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Popular Culture, Religion and Society. A Social-Scientific Approach 3
Giuseppe Giordan Adam Possamai Editors
The Social Scientific Study of Exorcism in Christianity
Popular Culture, Religion and Society. A Social-Scientific Approach Volume 3
Series editor Adam Possamai School of Social Sciences and Psychology, Western Sydney University, Penrith South DC, NSW, Australia
What happens when popular culture not only amuses, entertains, instructs and relaxes, but also impacts on social interactions and perception in the field of religion? This series explores how religion, spirituality and popular culture co-exist intimately. Religion sometimes creates and regulates popular culture, religious actors who express themselves in popular culture are also engaged in shaping popular religion, and in doing so, both processes make some experiences possible for some, and deny access to others. The central theme of this series is thus on how religion affects and appropriates popular culture, and on how popular culture creates and/or re-enforces religion. The interaction under scrutiny is not only between the imaginary and ‘real’ world but also between the online and off-line one, and this revitalises the study of popular religion through its involvement in popular culture and in new social media technologies such as Facebook and Twitter. Works presented in this series move beyond text analysis and use new and ground-breaking theories in anthropology, communication, cultural studies, religious studies, social philosophy, and sociology to explore the interrelation between religion, popular culture, and contemporary society.
More information about this series at http://www.springer.com/series/13357
Giuseppe Giordan • Adam Possamai Editors
The Social Scientific Study of Exorcism in Christianity
Editors Giuseppe Giordan Dipartimento di Filosofia, Sociologia Pedagogia e Psicologia Applicata University of Padova Padova, Italy
Adam Possamai School of Social Sciences Western Sydney University Sydney, NSW, Australia
ISSN 2509-3223 ISSN 2509-3231 (electronic) Popular Culture, Religion and Society. A Social-Scientific Approach ISBN 978-3-030-43172-3 ISBN 978-3-030-43173-0 (eBook) https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-43173-0 © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 This work is subject to copyright. All rights are reserved by the Publisher, whether the whole or part of the material is concerned, specifically the rights of translation, reprinting, reuse of illustrations, recitation, broadcasting, reproduction on microfilms or in any other physical way, and transmission or information storage and retrieval, electronic adaptation, computer software, or by similar or dissimilar methodology now known or hereafter developed. The use of general descriptive names, registered names, trademarks, service marks, etc. in this publication does not imply, even in the absence of a specific statement, that such names are exempt from the relevant protective laws and regulations and therefore free for general use. The publisher, the authors, and the editors are safe to assume that the advice and information in this book are believed to be true and accurate at the date of publication. Neither the publisher nor the authors or the editors give a warranty, expressed or implied, with respect to the material contained herein or for any errors or omissions that may have been made. The publisher remains neutral with regard to jurisdictional claims in published maps and institutional affiliations. This Springer imprint is published by the registered company Springer Nature Switzerland AG The registered company address is: Gewerbestrasse 11, 6330 Cham, Switzerland
Contents
1 Introduction���������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 1 Adam Possamai and Giuseppe Giordan Part I Case Studies in Early Modernity 2 The Secret History of the ‘Earling Exorcism’ �������������������������������������� 17 Joseph Laycock 3 Demonic Possession and Religious Scientific Debate in Nineteenth-Century France���������������������������������������������������������������� 33 Roberta Vittoria Grossi 4 A Brazilian Exorcist at the Beginning of the Twentieth Century: The Supernatural as an Empowerment Strategy��������������������������������� 53 Tiago Pires Part II Case Studies in Late Modernity 5 The Devil Returns. Practices of Catholic Exorcism in Argentina ������ 75 Vernica Gimnez Bliveau 6 Diagnosing the Devil. A Case Study on a Protocol Between an Exorcist and a Psychiatrist in Italy �������������������������������������������������� 95 Giuseppe Giordan 7 Doing Battle with the Forces of Darkness in a Secularized Society���� 111 Deirdre Meintel and Guillaume Boucher 8 Spirit Possession and Exorcism in Today’s Church of England���������� 137 Douglas J. Davies 9 Spiritual Flows and Obstructions: Local Deliverance in The Universal Church of the Kingdom of God�������������������������������� 159 Kathleen Openshaw v
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10 Ethnography of the Devil: The Aftermath of Possession, Exorcism, and the Demonic�������������������������������������������������������������������� 175 J. Tyler Odle 11 Exorcism, Media and the Romanian Orthodoxy: Chasing the Devil, Coping with Uncertainty�������������������������������������������������������� 191 Antonela Capelle-Pogacean 12 Confidence in Society, Exorcism, and Paranormal Practices: The Mediating and Moderating Role of Spirituality���������������������������� 217 Victor Counted and Adam Possamai 13 Conclusion������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������ 237 Giuseppe Giordan and Adam Possamai Index������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������ 241
Contributors
Vernica Gimnez Bliveau holds a PhD degree in sociology (École des Hautes Études en Sciences Sociales, Paris/Universidad de Buenos Aires). She works as full researcher at the CONICET/CEIL. Her researches focus on the social and religious dynamics of Catholicism, the convergence of religion and health, the characteristics of beliefs in Contemporary Latin America, and the constitution of identities and movements of religious groups. She is adjunct professor at the University of Buenos Aires and has been invited as visiting professor at the Maison des Sciences de l’Homme (Paris, 2016), École des Hautes Études en Sciences Sociales (EHESS, Paris, 2013), Columbia University (New York, 2008), Institut des Hautes Études de l’Amérique Latine (IHEAL, Paris, 2010), Universidad de Villa María (Córdoba, 2016, 2009), and Universidad Nacional de Entre Ríos (UNER, Paraná, 2009, 2011, 2013). Her works include books and articles in specialized journals: Católicos militantes. Sujeto, comunidad e institución en la Argentina (Eudeba, 2016); La triple frontera. Globalización y construcción social del espacio (Miño y Dávila, 2006); and La triple frontera. dinámicas sociales y procesos culturales (Espacio Editorial, 2011). Guillaume Boucher is a PhD student in anthropology at Université de Montreal. After completing a master’s thesis on the Catholic Charismatic Renewal in Québec, he focused his doctoral research on Pentecostal congregations composed of Bhutanese refugees from Nepal. As regional coordinator of a broad study of religious groups in Québec, directed by Deirdre Meintel, his work concerns issues of conversion, religious healing, and religious pluralism. Antonela Capelle-Pogacean is a tenured researcher at Sciences Po CERI and a lecturer in history and political sociology at Sciences Po (Paris). Her research interests include identity issues, citizenship, religion and politics, and the social history of communism. Among her publications are (editor, with Patrick Michel and Enzo Pace) Religion(s) et identité(s) en Europe. L’épreuve du pluriel (Paris, Presses de Sciences Po, 2008); (coedited with Nadège Ragaru) Vie quotidienne et pouvoir sous le communisme. Consommer à l’Est (Paris: Karthala & CERI, 2010); and (with vii
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Nadège Ragaru) “Les horloges suspendues du futur: les mondes de la science- fiction en Bulgarie et en Roumanie” in Cahiers du monde russe (56(1), 2015, 77–109). Victor Counted is a social psychology and practical theology researcher interested in the psychological aspects of religious and place experiences in health, youth, and migration contexts. His scholarly work examines religion, place, and health – as well as the intersection of these three themes. He is research associate of the Cambridge Institute for Applied Psychology, and his work has been featured in Psychology Today, Journal of Community Psychology, Journal of Psychology & Theology, and Health and Quality of Life Outcomes. Douglas James Davies FBA, is professor in the study of religion in the Department of Theology and Religion at the University of Durham. He is an authority in the history, theology, and sociology of death. His fields of expertise also include anthropology, the study of religion, the rituals and beliefs surrounding funerary rites and cremation around the globe, and Mormonism. His research interests cover identity and belief and Anglican leadership. Giuseppe Giordan PhD (2002) in social sciences, is professor of sociology of religion at the University of Padova, Italy. He is author, coauthor, editor, and coeditor of 15 books and journal special issues in the sociology of religion. He is coeditor of the Annual Review of the Sociology of Religion (Brill) and elected member of the Executive Councils of the Association for the Sociology of Religion and the International Society for the Sociology of Religion. He is director of the International Joint PhD Program in Human Rights, Society, and Multilevel Governance based at the University of Padova. Roberta Vittoria Grossi is a PhD student in church history at Pontifical Gregorian University in Rome and archivist of the Society of African Missions (Rome). She completed her PhD in modern history from the University of Rome “La Sapienza.” Among her publications are “Scienza e Chiesa in Italia” in Dizionario Storico Tematico “La Chiesa in Italia” (P. F. Lovison B, director), volume I, Dalle origini all’Unità nazionale (Roma Città Nuova, 2015); and “Le Fonti sui Martiri all’ARSI” in Archivum Historicum Societatis Iesu (2012, I, 233–249). Joseph Laycock is an assistant professor of religious studies at Texas State University. His books include The Seer of Bayside: Veronica Lueken and the Struggle to Define Catholicism (Oxford University Press, 2014) and Dangerous Games: What the Moral Panic over Role-Playing Games Says About Play, Religion, and Imagined Worlds (University of California Press, 2015). Deirdre Meintel is professor of anthropology at the Université de Montréal and has authored numerous works on migration, ethnicity, contemporary religions, religious diversity, and pluralism. She directed a study of over 200 religious and
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s piritual groups across Québec and, since 2000, has undertaken individual research on spiritualists. Cofounder and editor of the journal Diversité urbaine, she directs an interdisciplinary research group of the same name. J. Tyler Odle is a graduate student at the University of South Florida pursuing a master’s degree in religious studies. He is the founder and president of the Graduate Religious Studies Initiative for Professional Development (GRIP), where in its first 6 months, he facilitated three graduate symposiums and two graduate student lecture events. He is currently peer-reviewing three articles for publication by first and second year master’s degree students. Kathleen Openshaw is a PhD candidate in the Religion and Society Research Cluster at Western Sydney University. She completed her master’s degree in anthropology and development studies from Maynooth University, Ireland. Her main research interests are Pentecostalisms from the Global South, local lived migrant religious expressions of globalized Pentecostalisms, and material religion. Her PhD research is an ethnography of the Brazilian megachurch, the Universal Church of the Kingdom of God (UCKG), in Australia. Tiago Pires is a PhD student in history at the University of Campinas (UNICAMP) and a visiting researcher at Roma Tre University (2017–2018) under the guidance of Professor Verónica Roldán, PhD. He completed his master’s degree in cultural history from UNICAMP and in sociology from Roma Tre University and earned a bachelor’s degree in history from Federal University of Ouro Preto (UFOP). During his master’s studies, he was a visiting researcher at the University of Udine, Italy, under the guidance of Professor Nicola Gasbarro, PhD, member of the Center for Studies on Cultural History of Religions (UNICAMP, Brazil). Adam Possamai is professor in sociology at Western Sydney University and deputy dean at the School of Social Sciences. He is the (co)author and (co)editor of nearly 20 books and special issues and nearly 90 refereed articles and book chapters. He is a former president of the International Sociological Association’s Committee 22 on the Sociology of Religion and of the Australian Association for the Study of Religions.
Chapter 1
Introduction Adam Possamai and Giuseppe Giordan
Abstract This chapter introduces this edited book as a study of exorcism within a social-scientific perspective in Western societies. Applying the sociological work of de Certeau, and the anthropological perspective of Malinowski, this chapter presents a collection of research papers which reexamines the relationship among magic, religion, and science within the context of secularization thesis. Modern practices of exorcism are considered within the Christian and global contexts with the focus on both early and late phases of modernity. The case studies presented in this volume touch on various geographical areas in Europe, North and South America, and Australia, and cover numerous Christian groups and denominations. We also emphasize the idea that exorcism is not an exclusively Christian practice and that it can be found as part of other religions, such as Buddhism, Islam, or Judaism. The study of modern practices of exorcism in non-Christian contexts is warranted to tackle understanding of this growing phenomenon around the world and to consider exorcism no longer as an atavistic ritual in conflict with science and modernity. A practical reason – a need to provide guidance and support for these victims or patients, through medicine, spiritual care, and community assistance – fosters this research project. Keywords Multiple modernity · Supernatural · Rationality · Magic · Religion · Science This book is a revisionist piece on the place of magic in Western societies. It follows recent social-scientific research on religion, and adapts it to the field of magic. Indeed, over years of research and debates, many specialists in religion, who observed the reversal of the process of the secularization process in late modernity, have had to reconsider the views of early sociologists such as Durkheim, Weber and A. Possamai School of Social Sciences, Western Sydney University, Sydney, NSW, Australia G. Giordan (*) Dipartimento di Filosofia, Sociologia, Pedagogia e Psicologia Applicata, University of Padova, Padova, Italy e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 G. Giordan, A. Possamai (eds.), The Social Scientific Study of Exorcism in Christianity, Popular Culture, Religion and Society. A Social-Scientific Approach 3, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-43173-0_1
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Marx. The first set of secularist revisionists, working in the last quarter of the twentieth century, acknowledged that during the early phase of modernity – a period since the French and Industrial revolutions, that witnessed the development of science, education, and urbanism – it was supposed that religion would disappear from both the public and private social spheres. Later, in the current phase of late- modernity, a time that began to question the use of instrumental reasoning to the detriment of other ways of thinking – such as post-colonial, indigenous, and spiritual – it became evident that religion had never surrendered the private sphere and had even reappeared in the public sphere. The first quarter of the twenty-first century brought a second set of secularist revisionists who took their argument further: religion had never really disappeared during modernity, even in the public sphere. The views previously brought to the debate were mainly Eurocentric and did not adequately take into account the situation in other parts of the world. The argument here, following the multiple modernity thesis, is that at certain times in history and in certain regions of the world, religion might predominate over secularization, or vice versa. There is no universal trend leading to a ‘full’ secularization that ended with the advent of modernity. While this was a project that emerged from Europe, it never fully eventuated, not even in communist countries. While modernity has spread around the world, its European links with secularization have not necessarily been followed by other countries. This has even led Berger, Davie and Fokas (2008) to claim that secularization in Europe has become the world exception, instead of the norm previously thought of last century. Instead of seeing the development of modernity leading to secularization, we should rather see some back and forth movements between religion and secularization that have been fluctuating in different proportion in many parts of the world during these last three centuries. The same can be argued with regards to magic. While a first set of researchers, in the last quarter of last century, started to revise their understanding of the disenchantment process, a second set of revisionists is today starting to argue, in the light of the above argument concerning religion, that magic never really disappeared, and that it would be more prominent at certain times in certain parts of the world, depending on the various contexts, including the strength and legitimacy of scientific and religious discourses. Weber analyzed the beginning of the disenchantment process through, first, the impact of religion (for example, Judaism and later the Protestant ethic and its doctrine of predestination), and, second, the development of instrumental rationality in collusion with new scientific methods. Some even argue that scientific discourse did not have much work left to do, as the logic of predestination was assumed to have eliminated all possibility of magic, and that in the seventeenth century (according to Thomas Khun) the partnership between science and magic had already ended (Tambiah 1990). Religion, until the heyday of modernity, and science, since industrialization, became the dominant ideologies, but their conflict with magic did not go according to plan. Their proponents might have attempted to eradicate magic, and if they realized that this attempt was not working, they believed that it was only a matter of a few further years of educational and scientific development before eradication would be complete. This never happened. Today, in late modernity, and
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especially in a Western context, with religion and science no longer dominating political and civil societies, magic, this tertium quid that was never actually absent, is remerging from the shadows and from our unconscious. This does not mean that our lives are now better or worse – just different. While some commentators (e.g. Hume and McPhillips 2006) will see this worldview as presenting a positive alternative or complement to calculative rationality and as an alternative to a logocentric view of the world, others such as the Spanish painter Goya would see it as the awakening of monsters while reason sleeps. Indeed, not everything dealing with the supernatural world is positive – today, for example, more and more people believe in the Devil. As this book details, the need for exorcism was felt in the early phase of modernity, and today, in the late phase of modernity, there is increasing demand for exorcists to deal with issues arising from the supernatural. Today the key question to ask is no longer, “Is magic returning or not?” but “How, in modernity, does belief in magic impact on people and their societies, and how do people adapt themselves to these changes?”
1.1 Science, Religion, and Magic In his classic work on magic, science and religion, the famous anthropologist Malinowski (2013, pp. 86–87) argues that the ‘primitive’ person uses a type of scientific reasoning: Magic is akin to science in that it always has a definite aim intimately associated with human instincts, needs, and pursuits. The magic art is directed towards the attainment of practical aims. Like the other arts and crafts, it is also governed by a theory, by a system of principles which dictate the manner in which the act has to be performed in order to be effective… Both science and magic develop a special technique… Thus both magic and science show certain similarities, and, with Sir James Frazer, we can appropriately call magic pseudo-science… Magic is based on specific experience of emotional states in which man observes not nature but himself, in which the truth is revealed not by reason but by the play of emotions upon the human organism. Science is founded on the conviction that experience, effort, and reason are valid; magic on the belief that hope cannot fail nor desire deceive. The theories of knowledge are dictated by logic, those of magic by the association of ideas under the influence of desire… Both magic and religion arise and function in situations of emotional stress: crises of life, lacunae in important pursuits, death and initiation into tribal mysteries…
By ‘science,’ Malinowski was not referring to the scientific methods developed during the Enlightenment, but to a specific frame of mind that involves a methodological way of thinking aimed at resolving a problem. It is when this scientific (or rigorous) way of thinking fails, that magic comes into play to find a solution to whatever issue needs to be addressed. As he states in his key work on this topic: We do not find magic wherever the pursuit is certain, reliable, and well under the control of rational methods and technological processes. Further, we find magic where the element of danger is conspicuous… The integral cultural function of magic, therefore, consists in the bridging-over of gaps and inadequacies in highly important activities not yet completely
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Indeed, depending on what needs to be achieved, magic or science will be applied in a different fashion to solve a problem. Malinowski’s understanding of science has, of course, been critiqued as being far from, let’s say, Popper’s perspective that science is strictly about testing theories against experience, and not about solving problems. With a stretch of the imagination, it could be argued that this perspective on science is akin to that of an early twentieth century monotheist theologian critiquing the popular classical religion of polytheism. This is still religion, but of a different type, and the same can be said about science. Western societies are scientifically developed and it is evident that we do not share the same lifestyle as the informants of Malinowski’s researches, and that science and religion are indeed different. But what about magic? During the early phase of modernity, scientific views were dominant in public discourse and were even changing the nature of faith. Indeed, in this age of rational knowledge, religions were forced, despite some resistance, to rid themselves of any magical components. In order to maintain their relevance in this new world of calculative and scientific reasoning, dominated by science, anything that was seen as superstitious had to be eliminated; religion had to become more rational to be socially and politically acceptable. This, also, was a time of crisis; adapting large populations to the changes brought about by industrialization created difficulties. There were problems of overpopulation, rural exodus, rapid urban growth, and famine in the early stages of the industrialization of society. Beliefs in the supernatural still existed at that time, but they did not emerge sufficiently from the social underground for any growing trend to be perceived, even if many new occultist and esoteric groups developed during that period (see, for example, McIntosh’s (2011) study of the rebirth of magic in France in the nineteenth century). For example, it was only with the late Pope John Paul II at the end of the previous century that the Catholic Church started to evaluate again its cult of saint and of the Virgin, and to reinvigorate pilgrimages, after years of having denigrated aspects of popular religion within its faith (e.g. eradication of some of its processions, blessings, and exorcist activities) (e.g. Voyé 1998). Another example is the one provided by Goossaert (2003). In China, around 1900, there were approximately one million temples open dedicated to what we would call from a western point of view a popular religion. Today, we are left with only a few thousands left open as religious sites, and a few other thousands as museums. These temples were part of China’s mainstream religion before the birth of the nineteenth century and were the centre of worship of ancestors and of the cults of deities that held together a community around a local religious figure (like a saint in a Christian interpretation). Many Chinese thinkers (e.g. Kang Youwei (1858–1927) in the early twentieth century became so influenced
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by western reason that they wanted to modernise their country and this meant, paradoxically, creating a totally new religious project for the whole country. To build the new modern China, the country needed new schools, post offices, police stations, local government buildings, and confiscated the local temples to turn them into these new modern spaces. Before China became communist, these local cults were seen by the new intelligentsia as superstitious and in need of being removed from the new project of modernity. By bringing the modern and western model in their country, Chinese officials had to distinguish religion (a term which appeared only in Chinese as zongjiao in the twentieth century to reflect the modern and institutionalised western model of official religion) from the superstition of its local cults. At the present time, in late modern societies, science is no longer the dominant paradigm and must engage more and more with religions; and religions, in turn, must take magic on board. In this post-colonial, post-industrial, post-Fordist world, Westerners are experiencing new types of crises that undermine the voices of the intellectuals and the experts, and beliefs in the supernatural are again coming to the fore. Science today is not dominant enough to curb this revival of magic, and this is why we are talking about a ‘re-enchantment’ process in contemporary societies. This, we want to state, is in fact a misnomer, as it is not a case of the re-emergence of the existence of magic itself, but of the extent of its visibility and acceptance. Jeanne Favret-Saada’s (2009) famous study on sorcery in rural France noted how, in the 1920s, the Church moved to stop providing support to these types of magical beliefs in rural environments and began instead to treat such beliefs and associated practices as superstitious. Since that time, it has been the practice of the Church to systematically ban or disqualify these atavistic approaches. As its collusion with religion waned, sorcery changed, but did not disappear. Expertise in these abnormal forces became more specialized, and also, paradoxically, became more secularized: Satan was invoked less in the rituals. In his book, The Problem of Disenchantment, Asprem (2014) provided an excellent description of the plurality of claims by intellectuals about knowledges in the heyday of industrialization and science at the end of the nineteenth and beginning of the twentieth centuries. He proposed a synchronic analysis of these knowledge exchanges, and discovered telling conceptual affinities between physics and occultism, between experimental biology and psychical research, and between methodological challenges in psychology and the practice of ritual magic. These knowledge exchanges were aimed at resolving enigmas, and recourse to a magical way of systematically investigating an issue was not deemed inadequate by all intellectuals. As Asprem (2014, p. 27) stated, with regard to the revisionist approach detailed above: …it may be more fruitful to look at how certain historical actors, predominantly intellectuals, have negotiated the issues conjured up by the ideal-typical image of a ‘disenchanted world’ in a number of different ways, rather than differentiating two types of expressions attributed to the parallel actions of disenchantment and re-enchantment processes. In short, this means a shift in focus away from disenchantment and re-enchantment as processes, towards a focus on disenchantment as a cluster of intellectual problems.
If the ‘primitive’ person from Malinowski’s research is simply using (first) scientific and (second) magical methods for resolving pragmatic issues, according to Asprem’s
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research, when it comes to science, systematized magical ways of thinking are around the corner when science fails. Asprem’s work is key in pointing out how mythic the re-enchantment process is, as magical beliefs were never really abandoned by Western societies.
1.2 Exorcism as a Social and Cultural Event In recent years, interest in the occult world and in the rituals that release individuals from demonic possession has increased, becoming more and more widespread among broad segments of the population and thus justifying a renewed interest on the part of certain religious institutions (Giordan and Possamai 2018). In his study of the mass exorcism of Loudun in seventeenth-century France, Michel de Certeau (2005) developed a theory that links the increase and spread of exorcism with periods of profound social change. In this sense, the study of exorcism today offers an opportunity to describe not only the crisis and the drama of a single individual, but also the crisis of the society in which the possessed lives. Indeed, exorcism is a most powerful and significant site where new frontiers of the relationship between social order and disorder are revealed, and where the boundary between sacred and profane is constantly challenged and redefined. The growing significance of the rite of exorcism, both in its more structured format within traditional religions (for example, Catholicism) and in its less controlled and structured forms in the rites of deliverance within neo-Pentecostal movements, sets up new relations of force within the religious field, reaffirming beliefs (such as in the existence of the Devil and spirits) that, according to the Enlightenment, were thought to be residual and disappearing. At the same time, the fight against demonic possession underlines the way in which changes within the religious field, such as the rediscovery of typical practices of popular religiosity, challenge the expectations of the theory of secularization. Our argument is that if possession is a threat to the individual and to the equilibrium of the social order, it is possible to re-establish a certain balance and order through the ritual of exorcism and the power of the exorcist. Exorcism is often considered as a battle between the possessed and demons. It is a combat with entities that are not part of our society and as such could be seen as an event that is not regulated by any social norms. Social scientific research on this topic, however, are quite clear that this is a social phenomon. As Durkheim wrote on suicide, that the perceived most individualist act a human being could do is still part of a social phenomenon and has social characteristics, the same can be said of one of the most individualized religious experience, which is having an unwanted presence in one’s body. These possessed people, as Levack (2013), consciously or not, act according to their own religious culture. In his analysis of the difference between Catholics and Protestants in Europe in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, Levack (2013, p. 30) claims that people involved in these rituals acted according to how they were expected to behave by the members of their religious communities.
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All illnesses are to some extent socially constructed, and demonic possession (and its exorcism) is far from being an exception (Levack 2013, p. 114). In the same way that we are able to make reference, sociologically, to the sickness role – that there is a social and cultural way to be sick which is dependent on the expectation of certain behaviours of a sick person and his or her society – the same can be stated of the influence of demonic possession. In his historical research, Levack (2013, p. 135) finds that displays of superior strength, contortionism, various manifestations of ecstasy, and other extraordinary behaviours became part of the experience of possession once it was well under way, or until the ritual of exorcism put an end to it. Even if people can be (or believe themselves to be) possessed, unconsciously they are still cultural performers. They act as they are expected to act within their culture. As an example, Catholic demoniacs often demonstrated a horror of material objects that were held as sacred in Catholicism, such as relics, crucifixes, and other objects that had been blessed or consecrated. Protestants, however, considered such material objects magical and sources of false worship; what was sacred in Protestantism was the Word of God. Protestant demoniacs, therefore, reacted negatively to the presence or the reading of bibles; not so much to the physical books themselves, but to the Word they embodied. (Levack 2013, p. 158)
1.3 Content The case studies presented in this book are Christian and global, and from the early phase of modernity to the present, what we call the phase of late modernity. They touch on various geographical areas in Europe, North and South America, and Australia, and cover numerous Christian groups and denominations. We also acknowledge that exorcism is not an exclusively Christian practice and that it can be found as part of other religions, such as Buddhism (Kapferer 1991), Islam (see, for example, Bubandt 2017; Dieste 2015; Drieskens 2006), or Judaism (Chajes 2009). A similar study of exorcism in non-Christian contexts is warranted to tackle understanding of this growing phenomenon around the world. Part I of this edited book focuses on cases during the early phase of modernity, when scientific discourse was dominant in the public sphere. These three chapters are historical, and demonstrate that exorcism did not disappear, even if secularism relegated this practice to an ancient and ‘irrelevant’ time. The cases are from the United States, France, and Brazil and concentrate on Catholicism. Since, already during the Middle Ages, Protestant groups were attempting to eradicate rituals of exorcism (even though they still occurred) as a form of demarcation from Catholicism, it is within the Catholic ambit that cases of exorcism are less covert. With the full emergence of Pentecostalism in late modernity, this near monopoly of Catholicism within Christianity began to lose its grip. This is discussed in Part II of this book. Chapter 2, Joseph Laycock’s “The Secret History of the ‘Earling Exorcism’,” details the various debates around a famous case of exorcism in Earling, Iowa,
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conducted on a woman variously called Anna Ecklund, Emma Schmidt, or Mary. This case was studied by William Blatty, director of the movie The Exorcist, and heavily influenced the way he portrayed the ritual on screen. The historical event took place among German Catholics living as a minority group in the US in the early twentieth century, and the chapter describes the tension of the Church in reporting the event. One segment of this institution was trying to hide the incident, as it reflected poorly on the rational aspect of its theology during modernity; the Church did not want its religion to be perceived as a superstitious type of the ‘hill- billy theology’ of Begone Satan. Another segment of the Church wanted to energize American Catholics by merging the phenomenon of possession with the promotion of an apocalyptic prophecy received through the voices of the good spirits who were visiting this energumen (along with the bad spirits). This almost made a prophet of the possessed woman. According to Laycock’s analysis of historical documents, it was through the tension in American Catholicism between the ecclesiastic sector, that sought to put a brake on this phenomenon, and the folk Catholics who were seeking truth in the statements made by this woman while possessed, that the emergence of a full-blown Messianic movement was crushed. The tension described by Roberta Vittoria Grossi in Chap. 3, “Demonic Possession and Religious Scientific Debate in Nineteenth-century France,” is not within the Church, but between science and certain branches of Catholicism in nineteenth-century France. With the development of modern psychiatry and neurology, scientists in France began to revise early accounts of exorcism and even representations of this ritual in artworks (for example, Rubens’ “Wunder des Hl. Ignatius von Loyola” (1617–1618)), and superimposed on them their scientific accounts, such as the psychiatric theory of hysteria, through a type of ‘retrospective medicine.’ Through an analysis of this historical debate, Grossi highlights how the Society of Jesus and the Jesuits were arguing against these theories that were rereading the past, and how a religious discourse was adapting itself at a time when rationalist medicine was becoming a dominant ideology intent on explaining all extraordinary manifestations as resulting from natural causes. Science, in that period, was replacing the soul with the brain; and science, claimed these theologians, could not explain all contemporary cases with which they were faced. Tiago Pires’s Chap. 4, “A Brazilian Exorcist at the Beginning of the Twentieth Century: The Supernatural as an Empowerment Strategy,” brings to us the case study analysis of a Brazilian exorcist, Monsignor José Silvério Horta (1859–1933), who wrote an unpublished autobiography with a strong focus on his counter- demonic work. This autobiography, along with documents from the Vatican Secret Archives on Brazil in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, serve as the main source of data for this chapter. In his examination of the documents, Pires sees that in these ritual practices the Church found a way to regain its power. It was the time when Brazil opened up to American Protestantism and Allan Kardec’s Spiritism, and the Catholic Church found itself in the middle of a religious competition. As the notes of the exorcist indicate, it was often the case that the possessed had previously taken part in activities related to Spiritism, the implication being that this religion was to blame for attracting the Devil. This chapter’s historical account
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also highlights the difficulty of practicing a type of mystical theology perceived as atavistic, which deals with supernatural phenomena such as ecstasies, visions, and various other types of sacred experience. In the heyday of modernity, these were seen as relics of an antiquated medieval model. Around that time, the Catholic Church was also quite silent about practices of exorcism. However, this did not stop people from seeking assistance from this particular exorcist, who was asked to perform various forms of deliverance from the Devil, or even miracles. Horta undertook his pastoral work not only as a way to help people to deal with ‘supernatural intercessions’ but also as a way to strengthen the faith of believers in the Catholic Church. His writings provide, not a real portrayal of what happened, but rather an interpretation by a leading exorcist in Brazil at a time when the Catholic Church was faced with the advance of modernity and religious competition. Casting the Devil, from a sociological and historical perspective, is never a value-free practice. In Part II the studies move to recent years, revealing that, compared to the early phase of modernity, interest in the occult world and in the rituals that release individuals from demonic possession has increased, becoming more and more widespread among broad sectors of the population and thus justifying a renewed interest on the part of certain religious institutions. For example, in the US, Gallup polls have shown that the percentage of the population that believes in the Devil increased from 55% in 1990 to 70% in 2004. Close to 59% of the sample of 1200 people surveyed in the 1998 Southern Focus Poll answered in the affirmative the question: “Do you believe that people on this Earth are sometimes possessed by the Devil?” In the second wave of the Baylor Religion Survey, in 2007, 53.3% of people surveyed answered in the affirmative, or strongly in the affirmative, the question: “Is it possible to be possessed?” We have argued in a previous publication (Giordan and Possamai 2018) that the only valid data we have to deal with the return of the devil is with regards to the increase of ‘possessionists’ (those who believe in the devil and the need to get rid of him or her; and this includes people who regards themselves as possessed). We can only assume that there has been a growth of exorcism to address the demand from the ‘possessionists’ in certain parts of the world. However, as the chapters from this book will address, exorcism is not the only solution. We have seen a growth of ministries of deliverance that deal with the presence of the devil, as a type of para-exorcism. Full blown exorcism are considered rare but that does not mean that people do not try to cure or protect themselves in other ways. In Chap. 5, “The Devil Returns. Practices of Catholic Exorcism in Argentina,” Verónica Giménez Béliveau explores a contemporary setting in Latin America. From 2013 to 2018, Béliveau conducted comparative qualitative research in the Catholic Church in Argentina, involving more than 30 religious experts on the topic of exorcism, including six exorcist priests and some people who were affected by these practices. She also engaged in fieldwork and observation of rituals. She found that even if cases of possession – the most spectacular manifestation of the Devil in action – are very rare, there is nevertheless a growing demand for ways to deal with some types of discomfort attributed to the work of the Devil that cannot be alleviated through medicine or psychology. Béliveau studied the Catholic context and discovered that exorcism is primarily a healing ritual, a therapeutic-ritual form. It is
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becoming more and more common for requests to be made by members of the community for help from religious experts in solving problems, such as: “Somebody put me under a spell,” “Please exorcize my house”, or “My son has a spiritual problem.” In her research, Béliveau also found that the Devil can be understood to affect a place and thence spread across the world, and is also capable of affecting some people across time, and within their family histories. As with Pires’ findings (Chap. 4), these exorcists also condemn the work of Spiritism and Umbanda as being responsible for attracting the Devil. The therapeutic ritual can be open to the public and is often performed during Mass. It can may include laying on of hands, and some Catholic priests use glossolalia in their prayers. Other types of ritual are more private and deal with people’s specific personal problems. Evil, as discovered through Béliveau’s sample, is present everywhere and a large number of sufferers are seeking help. Chapter 6, Giuseppe Giordan’s “Diagnosing the Devil. A Case Study on a Protocol between an Exorcist and a Psychiatrist in Italy,” examines exorcism within the Catholic Church in Europe. In 2015, Giordan conducted a series of interviews with an exorcist and with a psychiatrist with whom the religious professional works very closely. This team uses religion and medicine as complementary forms of knowledge that work together. For just this purpose, a protocol has been developed between the two practitioners. This case study shows that, despite the discourse promoted since the Enlightenment, theological and scientific knowledge can still work in a mutual exchange of legitimacy. Giordan uses Pierre Bourdieu’s theory of the field and Ervin Goffman’s concept of social stigma to understand the cooperation between these two experts. As the literature has pointed out, with the new scientific discourse, and especially with the advent of psychology and psychopathology, the Devil became secularized and a part of the scientific discourse – for example, through the newly developed concept of multiple personalities. The case study explains that this exorcist, who has dealt with more than 1000 cases of alleged possession, works first with the psychiatrist to determine if the cause of the malaise can be explained by modern medicine. In such cases, dealing with disease of the soul, not everything can be explained as a psychiatric disorder, but it is only when scientific knowledge fails that the exorcist starts to explore the possibility that these might be true cases of possession. Both the psychiatrist and the exorcist highlight how their approach is pragmatic (rather than ideological), in the hope of curing the troubled person’s soul. With Deirdre Meintel and Guillaime Boucher’s “Doing Battle with the Forces of Darkness in a Secularized Society” (Chap. 7), we remain within the Catholic Church, but look more specifically at the Catholic Charismatics. This chapter also compares and contrasts the activities of a Catholic exorcist with those of an exorcist from the Spiritualist Church, both from Montreal. Among the activities associated with Catholic exorcism, the authors find a practice of Deliverance, as influenced by Pentecostal groups. These deliverance rituals refer to combat with demonic forces rather than the expulsion of the demon from the body (as in the ritual of exorcism). Deliverance rituals can be built into regular church services and performed (as was seen in this case study) by lay people. Also, some rituals, such as the Mass of the
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Ancestors, are orientated towards clearing from those in the present, the adverse effects of their ancestors’ contact with the occult. Like the exorcist in Giordan’s case study (Chap. 6), this priest also has access to a psychiatrist to make sure that the issue is not one of mental illness. Within the Spiritualist group studied, Meintel and Boucher find an exorcist, which is very rare for this religious group. The focus of this exorcist is not on Satan per se, nor on demons, but on the lower spirits. These are spirits of the dead, who exist on a lower astral plane and attack people living on Earth. Possession might be caused by a single entity, or by a dozen malevolent entities in the aura of the possessed. These can also be ‘wandering’ spirits, who do not grasp the fact that they are dead, and might haunt certain places. Within his prayers during exorcism, the exorcist appeals to God, His angels, and His ‘light workers’ for help and support to clean a person’s aura or to clear a house. In their research, Meintel and Boucher discovered that people who approach these two exorcists usually have some kind of religious background, but practice little or not at all. They also tend to be lapsed Catholics. Neither of these two exorcists seems to use the ritual as a proselytizing tool. In Chap. 8, “Spirit Possession and Exorcism in Today’s Church of England,” Douglas J. Davies declares upfront that full-blown demonic possession is rare in contemporary England. That said, it does not mean that the Church of England is not concerned by this phenomenon; it has, in fact, a type of pastoral-managerial commitment to what it considers to be a Ministry of Deliverance. At the time of writing, the Church was even working on a new policy document. In his chapter, Davies explicates the almost paradoxical intersection between ancient and modern worldviews. Drawing on the theories of Max Weber, Clifford Geertz, and Bryan Wilson, Davies explains how an idea (in this context, the idea of demonic possession), when pervaded by an emotional charge, can become a value, which, in turn, can become attached to a person’s sense of identity and become a belief. In his assessment of the Church of England, Davies argues that for most of its members possession and exorcism are just ideas, but for some, these ideas have developed into beliefs. The Church of England’s response to possession is mainly concerned with a process of healing (that is, the elimination of evil agents) and providing reassurance. The latter is an indicator of a need that has spread extensively in contemporary society as the complexity involved in finding meaning, purpose, and a sense of identity has increased. The Ministry of Healing refers to various forms of interaction with the people involved, with some forms of prayer and blessing; it is developed within a framework of liturgical, bureaucratic and legal action within the Church. As a final observation, Davies underscores that, in addition to helping the disturbed parishioner, the Deliverance Ministry can also include a duty of care to the disturbing spirit. Chapter 9, Kathleen Openshaw’s “Spiritual Flows and Obstructions: Local Deliverance in the Universal Church of the Kingdom of God,” offers a unique approach to this field of research. Openshaw personally experienced a ritual of deliverance while conducting participant observation (2015–2017) in a Pentecostal Church in Australia, and thus came to an embodied understanding of what it means to be ‘delivered.’ The Church in which she conducted fieldwork is the Universal
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Church, established in Brazil in the 1970s, but in this Australian setting it is attended neither by the Brazilian diaspora nor by Anglo-Australians, but by socially and economically disenfranchised migrants from the Global South. Deliverance, in this context, is not exorcism but a process of spiritual cleansing to free people from evil oppression. It is delivered through two stages: the expulsion of the Devil (often dramatic), and the ongoing everyday lay work of keeping the Devil distant. The possessed body becomes a type of spiritual warrior, not only fighting a personal battle, but also becoming a foot soldier in a perceived global spiritual war. Among these migrants, evil is perceived as hyper-mobile and able to journey across geographical borders, even following migrant routes. Openshaw discovered that these practices and beliefs offer their adherents an alternative way to manage their life circumstances and help to remove obstacles to their sense of well-being and purpose. In Chap. 10, “Ethnography of the Devil: The Aftermath of Possession, Exorcism, and the Demonic,” J. Tyler Odle presents the results of a study in Florida on the mental challenges of people who have been exposed to the rite of exorcism. While liberation from the demon is considered cathartic at the time of the cure, further trauma can eventuate after this confronting experience. The findings of this chapter are based on extended interviews with two key participants: an exorcist and an individual who had experience with the demonic as a young adult in the 1970s. This victim, who has served as a source of inspiration for a novel and a subsequent movie, is still impacted by what happened years ago. Faced with a case of purported possession, the exorcist in this case study – who has treated hundreds of individuals – first seeks a therapeutic solution and uses the ritual only as a last resort. This religious professional spoke at length of his experiences with his patients and of the long term consequences of possession. The results point out the difficulty in dealing with the long term effects of demonic possession and exorcism if there are no support structures provided by family and/or religion. Negative community response to a person who has been possessed, it was claimed, can negatively affect recovery from the trauma. This can contrast with the attitudes of followers of some other cultures, such as Voodoo, where the community comes together to deal with the possession, its cure, and its aftemath over a long period of time. Enduring a rite of exorcism usually has long term physical, emotional, and communal implications that need to be taken into account, not only in future research, but in finding new ways to help victims of what they report to be demonic attacks. Antonela Capelle-Pogacean’s Chap. 11, “Exorcism, Media and the Romanian Orthodoxy: Chasing the Devil, Coping with Uncertainty,” details the mediatization of a famous case at the beginning of the twenty-first century in a remote Orthodox monastery in Eastern Romania. A 23-year-old nun died of the consequences of a ritual of exorcism. This ritual of healing and deliverance was performed according to the letter of the Patristic scriptures and of traditional practices. However, the event became a catalyst for the expression of social anxiety in this post-communist orthodox country, 2 years before its integration in the European Union. The Church attacked this religious ritual as being primitive and barbaric, and attempted to distance itself from the atavistic event. On the other hand, the Church, carrier of national identity after the fall of communism, was held indirectly responsible for
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this death and was attacked by militant atheists wanting to sever the close links between Church and State. Also, while one media camp was denouncing the exorcist as a murderer, another was celebrating him as a therapist turned martyr. Capelle- Pogacean argues that in this context the social visibility of the Devil reflects the contested field in which various social institutions are growing in importance and in which the different forms of authority are becoming more and more diversified. The final chapter, “Confidence in Society, Exorcism, and Paranomal Practices: The mediating and moderating role of spirituality,” by Victor Counted and Adam Possamai, presents the results of a survey of supernatural beliefs among 760 Australian Facebook users. It was discovered that regardless of the religious or non- religious background of the respondents, spirituality is positively associated with belief in demons and the practice of exorcism. The results also show that the stronger their level of confidence in society, the weaker is their belief in demons. The latter finding echoes de Certeau’s (2005) statement that the Devil is more likely to emerge in times of crisis. In this sense, the less confident a person is in his or her social structure, the more likely it is that he or she will be open to the presence of the Devil. However, this argument needs to be nuanced, as the results of this study also highlight that those who are more spiritual tend to have more confidence in their society. Thus, in this context, spirituality has a moderating effect on both confidence in the system and belief in demons.
1.4 Conclusion In late modernity, exorcism should no longer be regarded as an atavistic ritual in conflict with science and modernity. Social scientists today need to understand such rituals, especially rituals of deliverance, as moving from the shadows into the social alleys (they are still not highly visible). There is a need to acknowledge the reality of these phenomena, and not regard them as rare and isolated cases. However, as stated recently by Illueca (2018), most cases of spiritual distress are addressed though prayers and support rather than resorting to a major, full-blown exorcism. In this book, we also echo her advice that there are people, often isolated, who are suffering from these afflictions – be they perceived or real – and that there is a need to provide guidance and support for these victims or patients, through medicine, spiritual care, and community assistance.
References Asprem, A. (2014). The problem of disenchantment: Scientific naturalism and esoteric discourse, 1900–1939. Leiden: Brill. Berger, P., Davie, G., & Fokas, E. (2008). Religious America, Secular Europe? A theme and variations. Farnham: Ashgate.
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Bubandt, N. (2017). Spirits as technology: Tech-gnosis and the ambivalent politics of the invisible in Indonesia. Contemporary Islam, 13, 103–120. https://doi.org/10.1007/s11562-017-0391-9. Chajes, J. H. (2009). Between worlds: Dybbuks, exorcists, and early modern Judaism. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press. de Certeau, M. (2005). La possession de Loudun. Paris: Gallimard. Dieste, J. L. M. (2015). “Spirits are like microbes”: Islamic revival and the definition of morality in Moroccan exorcism. Contemporary Islam, 9, 45–63. Drieskens, B. (2006). Living with Djinns. Understanding and dealing with the invisible in Cairo. London: Saqi Books. Favret-Saada, J. (2009). Désorceler. Paris: Editions de l’Olivier. Giordan, G., & Possamai, A. (2018). Sociology of exorcism in late modernity. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan. Goossaert, V. (2003). Le destin de la religion chinoise au 20ème siècle. Social Compass, 50(4), 429–440. Hume, L., & McPhillips, K. (Eds.). (2006). Popular Spiritualities. The politics of contemporary enchantment. Farnham: Ashgate. Illueca, M. (2018). Interdisciplinary perspectives on spirit possession and deliverance ministries. Journal of Pastoral Care & Counseling, 7(4), 269–277. Kapferer, B. (1991). A celebration of demons. Exorcism and the aesthetics of healing in Sri Lanka. Oxford: Berg and Smithsonian Institution Press. Levack, B. (2013). The devil within. Possession and exorcism in the Christian West. New Haven and London: Yale University Press. Malinowski, B. (2013). Magic, science and religion and other essays. (Introduction by R. Redfield). Milton Keynes: Read Books. McIntosh, C. (2011). Eliphas Lévi and the French occult revival. New York: SUNY Press. Tambiah, S. J. (1990). Magic, science, religion, and the scope of rationality. London/New York: Cambridge University Press. Voyé, L. (1998). Effacement ou relégitimation de la religion populaire. Questions Liturgiques, 79(1–2), 95–109.
Part I
Case Studies in Early Modernity
Chapter 2
The Secret History of the ‘Earling Exorcism’ Joseph Laycock Abstract The exorcism of a woman variously called Anna Ecklund, Emma Schmidt, or simply ‘Mary,’ by Theophilus Reisinger, a German-born Capuchin monk, in Earling, Iowa, in 1928, is a near legendary event. The case was studied by William Peter Blatty in his research for his novel The Exorcist and many of the famous tropes popularized in the film adaptation of Blatty’s novel (levitation, uncanny projectile vomiting, and a young woman physically restrained on a bed) have their genesis in accounts of this event. Most of what is known about the Earling exorcism comes from a pamphlet called Begone, Satan! A Soul-stirring Account of Diabolical Possession in Iowa, written in German by one Father Carl Vogl and translated by Father Celestine Kapsner, a Benedictine monk from St. John’s Abbey in Collegeville, Minnesota. There was, however, a second account of the exorcism that was never promulgated by the Church. A pamphlet entitled The Earling Possession Case: An Exposition of the Exorcism of ‘Mary’ a Demoniac and Certain Marvelous Revelations Foretelling the Near Advent of Antichrist and the Coming Persecution of the Church in the Years 1952–1955 was written in 1934 by one Rev. F. J. Bunse, S. J. The pamphlet is based on Riesinger’s own account of the event written in German. Bunse’s account reveals, among other things, that the exorcism of ‘Mary’ – as Bunse calls the energumen – did not end in 1928! Mary’s possession resumed in 1929 and Riesinger was apparently still performing regular exorcisms on her when the pamphlet was written in 1934. Furthermore, Mary was not merely being possessed by demons – she was receiving frequent messages from ‘heavenly visitors’ that included Mary, Jesus, the archangel Michael, and numerous other angels and saints. This chapter examines these two accounts of the Earling exorcism in an attempt to arrive at a clearer picture both of what happened and of how the narrative was spun by Church authorities. These two accounts demonstrate the political interests at stake in the rush to narrativize the significance of Mary’s experiences.
J. Laycock (*) Texas State University, San Marcos, TX, USA © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 G. Giordan, A. Possamai (eds.), The Social Scientific Study of Exorcism in Christianity, Popular Culture, Religion and Society. A Social-Scientific Approach 3, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-43173-0_2
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Keywords Exorcism · Theophilus riesinger · Emma schmidt · Anna ecklund · Earling · Abundant events
2.1 Introduction In July 1935, a pamphlet appeared, in English, entitled Begone Satan! A Soul- stirring Account of Diabolical Possession. Printed with the approval of a Catholic censor and with the imprimatur of Joseph F. Busch, bishop of St. Cloud, it described the successful exorcism of a woman by a Capuchin monk named Theophilus Riesinger at a convent in Earling, Iowa. In its first year, tens of thousands of copies of Begone Satan! were distributed to Catholics throughout America (Bandini 1950, p. 1). An article that appeared in The Minneapolis Star on 7 February 1974 described a fourth printing of 45,000 copies.1 In 1936, Time adapted the pamphlet into an article and the exorcism became a legend. Historian Paula M. Kane (2015, p. 261) wrote, “The Earling exorcism became the best-known supernatural event of the decade and one of the last episodes of demonic possession in modern Catholic history.” Robert Orsi (2016, p. 159) still encountered stories about the Earling exorcism while interviewing Catholic nuns in Nebraska. Begone Satan! was also one of the texts studied by William Peter Blatty while researching his novel The Exorcist. Blatty (2015, p. 22) said of this story, “I instinctively felt it could not have been invented,” but also that “[t]he tone of the pamphlet seemed so overly credulous, so replete with pietistic asides and exclamations, that it turned me off.” However, for all its notoriety, very little is known about this event, including the identity of the energumen, who is referred to variously as ‘Emma Schmidt,’ ‘Anna Ecklund,’ ‘Mary X,’ or simply ‘The Woman.’ (I will refer to her as Emma Schmidt, as this name appears slightly more often in the literature.) Furthermore, few people are aware that there is a second account of the Earling exorcism, written in 1934 by Riesinger’s associate, a Jesuit named Frederick J. Bunse. This account, which did not receive Church approval to be published, reveals that the exorcism never actually ended. Schmidt became possessed again almost immediately and was still being exorcized when the second account was written. Furthermore, Schmidt was being visited by Jesus, Mary, the archangel Michael, and other heavenly personages as well as by demons. Riesinger used her ecstasies to question these beings about various doctrinal matters, eventually constructing a complex eschatological plot in which Jesus would return in 1955 and in which the events in Earling would play a pivotal role in the final war between heaven and hell. Between these two texts, along with other scant archival resources, there are tantalizing but ultimately inconclusive clues about who Emma Schmidt was and what her relationship with Riesinger was like. We will probably never know what The Harry Ransom Center at the University of Texas at Austin has a copy of Begone Satan! given by H. L. Mencken to Joseph Hergesheimer. It is inscribed, “For the infidel Hergesheimer in hopes of his salvation.”
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‘really happened’ to Schmidt. David Yamane (2000, p. 184) writes of religious experiences: “By the time the individual comes to understand the experience, it has past. What remains is the memory, the interpretation, the linguistification, the recounting, the emplotment, the narrativization. This is the ‘data’ which sociologists must study.” What does seem apparent though, is an alignment of interests in which multiple parties came to benefit from the narrative that ultimately formed around Schmidt. Riesinger, who was often chastised by other clergy for his enthusiasm to exorcize, seems to have been using Schmidt as a source of revelatory authority. Through her, he constructed a connection to the realm of Catholic myth and a heroic role from himself. As for Schmidt, it is hinted that she was a survivor of incest, experienced unwanted sexual fantasies, regretted certain things done in her youth, and was thought by some to be mentally ill. The narrative of demonic possession excused her past actions and unwanted thoughts and, more importantly, rendered them understandable. There is also evidence that she came to experience agency over her exorcisms, especially as she transitioned from being the victim of demonic attack to a seer playing a key role in the coming apocalypse. Finally, Begone Satan! appealed to American Catholics who had just experienced the stinging defeat of Al Smith’s presidential campaign in 1928. It served as a reminder that supernatural forces were real and that Catholic prayers were still efficacious. In the end, the story of what happened to Schmidt was produced through collaboration by different interests. I suggest that such alignments of interests are, in fact, common to the way supernatural narratives are elicited, interpreted, and deployed. We will never know what the originary event behind the narrative was, but it may be possible to untangle the various interpreters who produced the narrative in order to arrive at a greater understanding of their worldviews, hopes, and fears.
2.2 Begone Satan! Neither Riesinger nor Schmidt lived in Iowa. Riesinger was friends with Joseph Steiger, the monsignor of St. Joseph’s parish, and Steiger had agreed to host the exorcism at the Convent of the Franciscan Sisters. Following the events of 1928, Steiger visited Germany in 1931, where he told his story to a priest named Carl Vogl (sometimes written as Vogel), a canon in the diocese of Passau. Vogel wrote a long article for the German-language Catholic magazine Liebfrauenbote, entitled ‘Vade Satana – Weiche, Satan! Eine Aufsehenerregende Teufelsaustreibung in Nordamerica’ [Begone Satan! A Fascinating Devil Expulsion in North America]. The magazine had some circulation in America among German Catholics (Bandini 1950, pp. 2–7). Indeed, nearly everyone involved in the Earling exorcism was either German or German-American. A Benedictine monk named Celestine Kapsner at St. John’s Abbey in Collegeville, Minnesota, translated Vogl’s article as a pamphlet. After receiving approval from the bishop, it was published in July 1935 as Begone Satan!
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In Steiger’s story (as recounted through Vogl), Riesinger contacted him about a woman in need of exorcism. Riesinger had received approval for this exorcism from Thomas William Drumm, bishop of Des Moines, a detail that is supported by an article that appeared on 23 September 1928, in The Des Moines Register. Steiger is also described as speaking about the exorcism personally with his bishop (Vogl 2016, p. 58). Both Schmidt and Riesinger are described as arriving separately in Earling by train for the exorcism. Where they were arriving from is not stated. Schmidt is described as being 40 years old, but little else is said about her. At the convent, Schmidt displayed numerous symptoms of possession, including the ability to speak English, Latin, and German, and an aversion to everything holy. She could tell whether or not food had been blessed. At one point she is described as preternaturally leaping from the bed and clinging to the wall above the door frame. Much description is given to her vomiting, which she did 10–20 times a day, despite eating almost nothing. The author writes, “These came in quantities that were humanly speaking impossible to lodge in a normal being” (Vogl 2016, p. 65). This detail was almost certainly an influence on Blatty’s The Exorcist. Various possessing entities identified themselves in the course of the exorcism, including Lucifer and Beelzebub (apparently, two separate entities), and Judas. One of the entities identified itself as Schmidt’s deceased father Jacob (or Jake in Bunse’s account), who had somehow escaped from hell. Vogl (2016, p. 69) writes: He now admitted that he had repeatedly tried to force his own daughter to commit incest with him. But she had firmly resisted him. Therefore he had cursed her and wished inhumanly that the devils would enter into her and entice her to commit every possible sin against chastity, thereby ruining her, body and soul… Even in hell he was still scheming how to torture and molest his child.
The implication in this account is that Jacob’s ‘curse’ was the cause of Schmidt’s possession. Jacob is also described as having been a scoffer of the Church while alive. Finally there was a female entity named Mina, described as having been Jacob’s mistress in life. Mina had also escaped from hell, where she was sent for her immoral relationship with Jacob and also for murdering her own children. When asked how many children she murdered, Mina answered, “Three – No, actually four!” (Vogl 2016, p. 70). Mina especially enjoyed spitting on Steiger and Riesinger. The other demons possessing Schmidt are not named, but there was apparently not a finite number of them. Vogl (2016, p. 81) writes, “The number of silent devils was countless.” The exorcism lasted for 23 days, during which Schmidt did not eat and “nourishment in liquid form was injected into her” (Vogl 2016, p. 84). At one point Steiger states that he is “unhappy about the whole affair” (Vogl 2016, p. 74). In the end, the exorcism is presented as both successful and final: “From that time on, the woman, always sincerely good, pious and religious, visited the Blessed Sacrament and assisted at the Holy Mass” (Vogl 2016, p. 91). The text does discuss how the demons – forced by the exorcism to reveal their plans – explained that the Antichrist would reign between 1952 and 1955 (Vogl 2016, p. 87). However, the emphasis of the narrative is on the exorcism as a collective victory for the entire Church. Steiger
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is described as asking the parish for prayers and penance to aid the exorcism. Vogl (2016, p. 89) writes: “The faithful flocked to the church in large numbers from early morn until late in the evening in order that, by their prayers, they might add their mite to the word of the Church in this her mission.” Begone Satan! was not without its critics. Albert Bandini, an Italian-born priest from California, wrote his own pamphlet in 1936 critiquing it. Bandini objected that the story contradicted Catholic theology. He argued that the sovereignty of God would not allow a damned soul to return in order to commit “a sort of monstrous soul-incest” (Bandini 1950, p. iii). He also cited scriptural authorities explaining that Beelzebub and Lucifer are different names for the same entity. Bandini was unimpressed that Schmidt, who was almost certainly a German Catholic, understood English, German, and Latin. He also hints at an ulterior motive held by Schmidt and Riesinger, opining, “On the whole this tremendous concentration of all the forces of Hell under their supreme commander about a poor ignorant woman at Earling, Iowa, appears considerably unnecessary” (Bandini 1950, p. 10). Bandini (1950, p. 5) researched how the narrative in Begone Satan! came to be, writing, “It seems that we have in the pamphlet a more or less coherent reconstruction designed to make an intelligible dialogue out of a loose mass of words, howls, and yells: a reconstruction contrived 3 years after the events in Iowa by a man in Germany and based on some personal reminiscences of the Pastor and a good deal of hearsay.” When Bandini wrote to people involved in creating Begone Satan!, they seemed to back-pedal. Steiger replied to Bandini, “Had I known that Father Vogl would publish the story I would have refused to give him a detailed account of it… While the pamphlet is not chronological, it is nevertheless all correct: the facts given are true and I can vouch for them and I do not fear the searchlight if turned on the case” (quoted in Bandini 1950, p. 3). Bandini also wrote to Monsignor J. P. Durham V. G. of the diocese of Fort Wayne. Durham was the censor who gave the pamphlet a declaration of nihil obstat [nothing stands in the way], meaning that nothing in it contradicted Catholic doctrine. This point was emphasized in the Time magazine article about the pamphlet. Durham replied, “Concerning my nihil obstat on the pamphlet Begone Satan, let me state that I knew nothing about the pamphlet until letters came to me from different parts of the country seeking information and then, only after some months I received a copy from a Catholic book store and read a few pages and threw the pamphlet in the waste basket” (quoted in Bandini 1950, p. i). Durham’s explanation – that he gave a nihil obstat to a text he had never even seen – seems unlikely but demonstrates his embarrassment when confronted by a skeptic like Bandini.
2.3 The Bunse Text The second account of the Earling text appears in a manuscript entitled The Earling Possession Case: An Exposition of The Exorcism of ‘Mary’ A Demoniac and Certain Marvelous Revelations Foretelling the Near Advent of Antichrist and the Coming
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Persecution of the Church in the Years 1952–1955, by F. J. Bunse. Bunse was born in 1863 in Elberfeld, Germany, and came to New York, possibly following the expulsion of Jesuits in the 1870s and 80s. In 1924, he was stationed at St. Ann’s Church in Buffalo, New York. There, according to the text, Riesinger lived with him for over 3 weeks and told him about the 1928 exorcism. This document, which I will refer to as ‘The Bunse Text,’ was never published, but multiple versions exist that were apparently typed by hand. The first lines read: N.B. The following facts concerning the famous ‘Earling Case’ are culled from the German manuscript of the case written by Rev. Father Theophilus, O. M. Cap. THESE ARE NOT TO BE PUBLISHED THROUGH THE PRESS OR FROM THE PULPIT At the command of our Lord the case has been sent to the Holy Office. The translation and discussion of the facts are hereby submitted by Rev. F. J. Bunse, S. J., Buffalo, New York, February-March, 1934. Rev F. J. Bunse, S. J. died last year. (Bunse 1934, p. 1)
It is not stated who wrote this nota bene. According to an obituary in The New York Times, Rev. Frederick J. Bunse died on 17 April 1935. It is possible that this text existed as a hand-written document until an unknown typist transcribed it in 1936. At any rate, where Begone Satan! draws on a story recounted by Steiger, The Bunse Text draws on Riesinger’s account. It has more details about Schmidt, since Riesinger knew this woman long before 1928. I have tracked down two different versions of this text. The first was obtained from the University of Scranton. Corrections have been made to this text in pencil and the name ‘Theophilus Riesinger’ is written neatly on the cover in pencil. It is likely because of William Peter Blatty that the university acquired the text. It was donated by Richard McSorley, a Jesuit who had taught at Georgetown. Blatty was a student at Georgetown and received his demonological training from Jesuits there. Jason Miller, who played Father Karras in The Exorcist, was a graduate of the University of Scranton and may have convinced McSorley to donate his rare demonological text to their library. Sadly, this text was missing pages 14 and 35! I located a different copy from The University of Saint Mary of the Lake that appears to contain the missing content. Each copy was individually typed with different pagination. My citations refer to the copy from the University of Saint Mary of the Lake as it is the more complete. Bunse refers to the energumen as ‘Mary X.’ The text gives more hints about who she was and her relationship to Riesinger. We learn that she was born in 1882, which would have made her nearer to 50 years of age in 1928. We also learn that Riesinger had previously exorcized her on 12 June 1908. Finally, we learn that her possession was still ongoing in 1934. Bunse (1934, p. 29) writes, “Mary was free, but only a very short time, perhaps a day or two… The second and most trying period of the Earling exorcisms was soon to begin for the honor of God, the welfare of the Church, and the salvation of Souls. We do not intend to speak about that period.” However, the text does discuss other exorcisms of Schmidt, at least obliquely. There is a reference to Riesinger exorcizing Schmidt in Milwaukee (Bunse 1934, p. 30). This exorcism was apparently public as it caused “many conversions” and
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was attended by a physician. It is unclear whether this was before or after the exorcism in Earling. An interview with Riesinger that appeared on 8 March 1936, in The Des Moines Register, describes Riesinger exorcizing Schmidt “in 1926 and again in 1928.” It is possible that Riesinger and Schmidt travelled the Midwest for a time, providing multiple exhibitions of exorcism. Bunse (1934, pp. 2–3) concedes that Schmidt already knew English and German, but adds that while possessed she understood “Latin and Hebrew, the Italian, Polish and other Slavonic languages which she had not learned.” The damned spirits also appear in this text, although Schmidt’s father is named “Jake” and Minnie is described as Schmidt’s aunt rather than Jake’s mistress. There are transcripts of Riesinger interrogating the spirits, that Riesinger likely reconstructed from memory. Riesinger apparently knew Schmidt’s family, as he tells Jake, “You wretched dog, you want to ruin your child forever? I have known you in life, miserable hypocrite” (Bunse 1934, p. 4). Minnie explains she is in hell for “devilish deeds,” for being baptized Lutheran, and also for murdering her children. When asked how many she murdered, she answers, “Five, and another one, six in all” (Bunse 1934, p. 3). This detail suggests an actual conversation that Steiger and Riesinger remembered slightly differently. The text also says that Minnie was “known among the people as a witch” (Bunse 1934, p. 2) and the transcript suggests that “bewitched herbs” are the cause of Schmidt’s possession: Q. Did you give something to the girl by means of which the relation of this girl to the devils was established? R. I have done that. Q. How did you do that; by food or drink? R. Both ways. (Bunse 1934, p. 3)
These seem to be leading questions, but Bunse cites the rite of exorcism from the Rituale Romanum, which does indeed instruct the exorcist to ask the demon if it is there because the possessed has consumed magical objects, and, if so, to vomit them up. However, Bunse (1934, p. 4) further adds, “A curse actually uttered against Mary by another woman, whose name we are bound to conceal at this time, though it really was not meant, enabled the spirits to enter Mary again… Another curse hurled against Mary by her own father Jake (we have heard it in the questioning) gave the spirits a new Satanic title to her body.” The impression is that Schmidt was becoming possessed again and again, always through no fault of her own, and that new explanations were devised on each occasion. Where Begone Satan! emphasizes the triumph of the Catholic community over Satan, the focus of The Bunse Text is apocalyptic prophecy. Bunse (1934, p. 5) explains that on “a certain day” during Schmidt’s possession, new spirits arrived that are described as “good spirits, heavenly visitors.” This day, which Bunse states occurred sometime in 1930, marked Schmidt’s transition from energumen to prophet. Or rather, Schmidt and Riesinger became a sort of prophetic team. In 1931, God told Schmidt, “All the revelations which I have made to you are to be given to my servant, your confessor, that he may prepare the world – not only that he himself may know them but that he may prepare the world” (Bunse 1934, p. 6). In addition
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to the prophecy that the Antichrist would reign between 1952 and 1955, the heavenly visitors told Schmidt that Prince Otto of Hapsburg would prove to be “The Great Monarch” that would precede the return of Christ. End-time prophecies of a Great Monarch are a feature of European Catholic folk tradition and several other European Catholic mystics have discussed this figure.2 The scenario ends with everyone on Earth seeing Christ in the sky in 1955 and joining the Catholic Church. Riesinger continued to extract these prophecies during the exorcisms, asking the heavenly visitors questions whenever Schmidt said they were present. In one case, Riesinger even asked whether the Capuchins could finance a new building. Curiously, the heavenly visitors always spoke in German, while the demons spoke English (Bunse 1934, pp. 8–9). The text describes Riesinger posing questions to the heavenly visitors via letters in 1933 (Bunse 1934, p. 18). Apparently Riesinger and Schmidt parted ways at some point but continued to produce prophecy by correspondence. Schmidt and Riesinger saw themselves not only as revealing the future, but as playing a pivotal role in defeating the forces of evil. In 1930, Jesus spoke to Mary, declaring, “I rejoice, My daughter, that you persevere so bravely and are the instrument by means of which great honor is done to Me and great help given to the Catholic Church. In this exorcism ten million devils have already been cast into hell.” Jesus is followed by the archangel Michael, who describes “billions and billions of devils cast into the abyss in Earling” (Bunse 1934, p. 23). Schmidt was also told that revolution did not break out in Germany, that the Church was not persecuted in Italy and Spain, and that a 1931 bombing plot against the pope failed, all because her exorcisms had depleted Satan of the demonic agents necessary to complete these plans. During one exorcism we are told, “Lucifer shouted in despair: ‘Oh, that these exorcisms would take an end’” (Bunse 1934, p. 25). Riesinger wrote an ‘official report’ that was sent through his provincial to the General of the Capuchins in Rome, with instructions to forward it to the Holy Office. To confirm whether the Holy Office had received his report, on 9 August 1932 he simply asked Schmidt’s heavenly messengers, and they confirmed that the Holy Office had indeed received it (Bunse 1934, p. 21). The text also relates that he described at least some of these prophecies to his provincial where they concerned local affairs. The provincial replied that her prophecies were more likely from the Devil (Bunse 1934, p. 8). Indeed, throughout the text there are hints that other Catholic clergy found Riesinger annoying. Bunse (1934, p. 20) describes priests who “belittle Father Theophilus” and writes, “His fellow religious and other priests expressed doubts about the soundness of his judgment on account of the stand he took in Mary’s [Schmidt’s] case.” He also writes, “It was not one of the Father’s hobbies to exorcize, as some very thoughtlessly said” (Bunse 1934, p. 25). Bunse’s conclusion is 2 The idea of the Great Monarch in The Bunse Text is specifically adapted from Bartholomew Holzhauser’s (1613–1658) interpretation of Revelation 10. Holzhauser was a German priest and mystic. He believed an angel described in Revelation 10 was actually prophesying a human monarch that would spread Christianity and bring peace to the whole Earth.
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that criticism from other clergy paradoxically proves that Riesinger and Schmidt were really fighting supernatural evil; he writes (1934, p. 25): No doubt, the evil spirits who threatened Father Theophilus to take vengeance on him for his persistent and successful work against hell by ruining his character, especially among his own fellow religious, have succeeded to a large extent. But could anything else be expected of the powers of darkness? The efforts of hell prove the genuineness of father’s case.
This rhetoric is quite common in the rhetoric of modern Catholic seers and mystics: when Church authorities doubt private revelations, a seer’s followers will often claim that persecution proves the revelation is true. At one point, Schmidt described being visited by the spirit of a deceased Capuchin named Father Fulgentius. In life Fulgentius doubted Schmidt’s possession but, speaking through Schmidt as a spirit, announced that she tells the truth! (Bunse 1934, p. 8).
2.4 Who Were Schmidt and Riesinger? From these texts, and a few clues found in newspapers articles, it is possible to create a partial sketch of Schmidt and her relationship with Riesinger. Bunse (1934, p. 1) describes Schmidt as “small of stature, and of a weak rather than strong constitution.” He adds that she had wanted to become a nun, but was prevented by her mother. She is described as working in “factories” alongside Protestants who mocked Catholicism. Bunse (1934, p. 1) also describes the circumstances that led to her first exorcism by Riesinger: When she was about 26 years old [i.e. 1908], she suddenly gave up her pious Christian life completely. She became melancholy, avoided company, and finally went to places and persons that cast a shadow on her good character. She threw blessed articles away, smashed crucifixes, and had thoughts of despair. People were amazed and scandalized. Some described this sudden change to an operation she had undergone.
The last sentence is perplexing. It seems as though the sentence ought to say either that the change was ‘described as an operation’ or that is was ‘ascribed to an operation.’ The syntax appears this way in both copies of The Bunse Text. If Schmidt did undergo a literal operation that Bunse does not name, it seems likely that it was an abortion. Both accounts specify that her father repeatedly attempted to have an incestuous relationship with her. An article that appeared on 23 September 1928 in The Des Moines Register read, “One rumor, said to be based on facts, is that the woman’s condition was brought on by ill treatment from her father, although the nature of the abuse or exactly what mental conditions it caused in unknown.” Bunse (1934, p. 5) also briefly describes a former “lover”: “Again, after a certain John, Mary’s [Schmidt’s] lover, whose impure intensions she baffled, had commited [sic] suicide and gone to hell, he was like Minnie and Jake, sent by Lucifer into Mary’s body to ruin and drag her to hell.” Although Bunse states that Schmidt was a virgin, it seems plausible (yet far from certain) that Schmidt became pregnant – either after
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being raped by her father or by her lover – and sought an abortion. We might further speculate that the behavior described here would be a natural reaction to the feelings engendered by such a development. Schmidt’s behavior was interpreted by some as hysteria. Bunse (1934, p. 7) writes: At one time – it was in New York – Mary was suspected of being insane; but before she could be sent to an insane asylum, she was examined by two physicians, independently of each other: each of the two declared that the girl was both ‘bodily and mentally quite healthy,’ and that there was no touch of insanity or hysteria in her.
Both texts emphasize that Schmidt was suffering from unwanted sexual fantasies that were attributed to demons, although Bunse is more graphic; he writes (1934, pp. 2–5), “The spirits tormented her every night from 12 to 3 by arousing her passions and tempting her to commit sin… For years she saw these horrid figures, male and female, doing the most revolting acts of impurity before her eyes, arousing her passions, and inciting her to sin.” It is unclear how much of this is Schmidt’s own description of her problem and how much is prurient interest on the part of the exorcist. The proposed diagnosis of ‘hysteria’ likely had to do with medical notions of the time about ‘disordered sexuality’ in women.3 However, some of the behavior attributed to demonic control would probably not have been attributed to a medical problem, but simply to deviation from Catholic norms. For example, Bunse (1934, p. 2) writes, “It was these wicked spirits who blinded her and drove her about the city so that, when she intended to go to church she at last found herself in a clairvoyant’s room.” Mediums and Spiritualists would have been common in 1908 and visiting one would not be unusual. But attributing this behavior to demonic possession may have allowed Schmidt to preserve a self- narrative as a virtuous Catholic woman. A bit more may be pieced together about Schmidt, but first we must investigate her exorcist, Theophilus Riesinger, about whom much more is known. According to an obituary that appeared on 10 November 1941 in The Appleton Post-Crescent, Riesinger was born in Stelza, Bavaria, on 27 February 1868, to Jacob and Katherine Riesinger. He had three brothers – Joseph, James, and Alyosius – who remained in Germany. An article from 12 June 1942, in the Catholic publication The Messenger, states that he came to the United States in 1892 and stayed at Saint Fidelist Monastery and at Yonkers before he entered the Capuchin novitiate at Detroit. He completed studies for the priesthood at St. Francis monastery in Milwaukee, where he was ordained on 29 June 1899 by archbishop Frederick Katzer. He was initially sent back to St. Fidelist monastery. In 1904 he was briefly transferred to Saint Michael’s parish in Brooklyn and then to Our Lady of Sorrows. This church, sometimes called 3 The ‘operation’ alluded to could also have been a clitoridectomy. Schmidt was in the right place, historically and geographically speaking, and suffered the appropriate symptoms to receive such a procedure. The bulk of medical articles describing this procedure were published between 1880 and 1924. Sarah Rodriguez (2014, p. 13) describes a 29-year-old woman named ‘Lizzie B’ who was subjected to a clitoridectomy by her father in Brooklyn in 1896 because she was ‘morose’ and masturbated frequently. Schmidt was of a similar age in 1908 and is described as having a similar combination of depression and vivid sexual fantasies.
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‘Pitt Street’ in church writings, was established by the Capuchins. It was known as Kleindeutschland [little Germany] and served as the national parish for German immigrants. However, by 1904, the parish was already becoming predominately Italian. Riesinger was sent there because he knew Italian. Around this time he also took a course on socialism at Fordham University, allegedly in order to combat the influence of socialism on working class Catholics. Notably, The Messenger states that in 1912 his interest in exorcism brought him into conflict with diocesan authorities and he was transferred to Appleton, Wisconsin. (Appleton is in the diocese of Green Bay, where Frederick Katzer was bishop before transferring to Milwaukee.) Riesinger was transferred to Marathon, Wisconsin, where he helped lay the the groundwork for St. Anthony Seminary, and then back to Appleton in 1921. He died in Menasha, Wisconsin, collapsing shortly after Mass. (According to an article by Maija Penikis, that appeared on 4 March 1973 in The Post-Crescent, he actually died in the middle of communion.) It seems that Riesinger deliberately tried to cultivate an image for himself as an exorcist. The obituary in The Messenger notes that his patron saint was Michael, and characterizes him as a “warrior knight.” He also kept a running tally of his successful exorcisms. The article in Time about Begone Satan!, from 17 February 1936, states that he had performed 19 exorcisms prior to the one in Earling. That same year, Riesinger gave an interview to journalist Frances Stover that appeared on 8 March in The Des Moines Register. There Riesinger stated he had exorcized “22 possessed persons.” If Schmidt is one such person, who are the other 21? In the interview, Riesinger said that “hundreds” of allegedly possessed people were sent to him by both “priests and laymen,” but added that usually his investigation did not conclude that the possession was genuine. In fact, Riesinger seems to have been a wandering exorcist. In 1973, Penikis tracked down the son of a physician who had observed one of Riesinger’s exorcisms in Milwaukee. The physician asked to observe an exorcism Riesinger was to perform in Texas, but Riesinger forbade this. He may have used mission work as an opportunity to perform exorcisms or he may have done numerous trips like the 1928 one to Earling and this is simply the only one that was documented. It seems unlikely he had approval from a bishop for all of these exorcisms. Riesinger’s activities were clearly an embarrassment to some Church authorities, including the diocese of New York. Penikis interviewed a Capuchin priest, who remarked, “Twenty times in any man’s life-time is a great deal. The Church obviously felt it was far too often. Theophilus apparently diagnosed possession too often.” From these clues, it is clear that Riesinger met Schmidt in New York. Bunse (1934, p. 8) states that Riesinger met Schmidt when she was 16, which would have been around 1898. Riesinger was ordained in 1899 and sent to Saint Fidelis monastery in New York City. Schmidt may well have been one of the first people he met. An article that appeared on 23 September 1928 in The Des Moines Register read, “Relatives living near here are thought to have prevailed upon the Reverend Joseph Steiger, pastor of St. Joseph’s church, to bring the woman to Earling from an eastern city for the ritual.” As previously noted, the transcripts of exorcisms also suggest
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that Riesinger knew Schmidt’s father. It seems that while Schmidt may have had relatives in the Midwest, her family was from New York. In the Stover interview, Riesinger said he performed his first exorcism at age 40. This would have been around 1908, and Bunse states that Schmidt’s first possession lasted from 1908 until 18 June 1912. We can reasonably conclude that Schmidt was the first exorcism of Riesinger’s career. Riesinger also told Stover: I watched the case for years before I acted. The woman was my penitent – you understand, she confessed to me. She had always been very good. But all at once she did not come to church any more, she refused to receive the sacraments, she could no longer see the error of her ways and she was tormented day and night by horrible phantasms. My duty was to find out whether or not there was a possession. So I exorcized and forced the devil to tell me that he was there.
From this, it seems that Riesinger, and not Schmidt, was the one who first interpreted Schmidt’s behavior as possession. Riesinger also admits that instead of confirming possession and then performing an exorcism, he used the ritual exorcism to prove demonic possession. He adds that he made the demons confess that Schmidt had always lived a good life and had not committed a mortal sin. The interview also contains insights into Riesinger’s demonology. He stated that possessed people often contain “diabolical material” in their bodies that must be expelled, a belief that may explain the emphasis on vomiting in Begone Satan! He added that devils often take possession through curses and he used the word ‘maleficium’ – a Latin term for sorcery found in early modern treatises on demonology. He also stated, “As a rule, priests who exorcize do not live more than a couple of years after an exorcism, but God has given me an extra gift of strength.” Bunse (1934, p. 24) writes that Schmidt was “quite free in 1912, and that for a long time.” However, she and Riesinger apparently continued to correspond after he left New York. The Stover interview mentions an exorcism in 1926, suggesting they saw each other at least once between 1912 and 1928. Bunse (1934, p. 26) describes a letter Schmidt wrote to Riesinger on 16 July 1928 in which she wrote, “The devils called you a d.s. of a.b. [dumb son of a bitch]” and said, “Does he not know that hell is stronger than heaven, that there are more in hell than heaven? … The devil adds that he will make life so disagreeable for me that I will gladly turn to a life of sin.” The 1928 exorcism in Earling began the following month. This letter suggests Schmidt was anxious to receive another exorcism and not above delivering taunts and threats to get Riesinger’s attention. By the time Schmidt began receiving messages from ‘heavenly visitors’ she was exerting increasing agency over the exorcisms. For example, Bunse (1934, pp. 6–7) writes: At one time she awoke from an exorcism, she said she had received orders from heavenly visitors for Father Theophilus, such as the following: St. Michael told me – she was addressing Father Theophilus – you should use Prayers of the Ritual rather than make your own. Your strength, he said, is in the prayers of the Ritual. It was the truth; Father Theophilus, quite exhausted from the long exorcism and no longer able to read from the Ritual, had formed his own prayers.
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There are also hints that Schmidt embraced her new role as seer. Teresa Neumann was a famous mystic and stigmatic in Bavaria. She was very popular with German Catholics in America and likely a model for Schmidt’s emerging role as a seer. Joseph Schrembs, bishop of Cleveland, was another German immigrant who travelled to Bavaria in 1927 to speak with Neumann. Schrembs wrote a pamphlet called Amazing Teresa Neumann, in which she was quoted as telling Schrembs, “In your country there lives a person in whom soon great things will be done.” Someone apparently read this pamphlet in Schmidt’s presence and Schmidt later claimed that, when they got to this quotation, she heard a voice saying, “You are that person” (Bunse 1934, p. 5). It seems that the exorcisms were an arrangement that benefitted both Schmidt and Riesinger. Schmidt’s feelings of depression and shame were transformed into a heroic role of singular importance. Riesinger seems to have enjoyed his role as ‘warrior knight’ and the co-revealer of an unfolding apocalyptic scenario. Bunse (1934, p. 10) writes, “The supposition that Father Theophilus himself fabricated revelations involves a sinful daring of which no one who knows Father would think him capable.” This disclaimer suggests that at least some of Riesinger’s contemporaries suspected he was soliciting these revelations from Schmidt for his own satisfaction. We do not know what finally became of Schmidt, although the exorcisms were apparently still ongoing in 1936, as revealed in the Stover interview: ‘About the Earling, Ia, case, father?’ ‘That is a mystery that is still going on. God has destined that case to break the power of hell in a very special way so that billions and billions of devils will be locked up and unable to do harm. This case will continue until Christ says, It is enough.’ ‘Do you mean, father, that she will have to be exorcized again and gain, and that each time billions and billions of devils will be locked up and made unable to work harm to humanity?’ He nods his head in serious assent. ‘It is no mystery to me,’ he says.
Why should the exorcisms ever end if both exorcist and energumen regarded them as a source of ultimate significance? One wonders, though, whether Schmidt lived to the age of 73 – to the year of the return of Christ as predicted by her revelations.
2.5 Conclusions As extraordinary as the Earling exorcism case was, it is a story that has played out before. Schmidt was not the first Catholic woman to shift between being a tormented energumen and an exalted martyr and seer. In early modern Europe, demonic possession and holiness were frequently intertwined. Sarah Ferber (2004, p. 125) has described how, for Catholic women in early modern France, possession was “simultaneously the means for gaining spiritual authority and a source of profound vulnerability.” Schmidt’s case shows that these same dynamics surrounding
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exorcism, gender, and power were still in place among German Catholics living in the United States in the early twentieth century. Riesinger’s conflict with Church authorities also repeated an older pattern. Begone Satan! ends with a letter from a Milwaukee physician named John Dundon, who interviewed Riesinger. Dundon opines that exorcism “should command the patronage of the medical professions, rather than to be allotted to the realm of superstition of necromancy” (Vogl 2016, p. 94). But, strictly speaking, Riesinger was a necromancer, in the sense that his exorcisms were conjuring spirits of the dead and interrogating them about doctrinal matters. This was one of the key issues that prompted Bandini to write his own pamphlet condemning Begone Satan! The question of whether possessed people are inherently untrustworthy, or whether spirits can be compelled to tell the truth, has been the subject of great debate in Catholic exorcism. Rule 14 of the rite of exorcism found in The Rituale Romanum specifically states, “The exorcist must not digress into senseless prattle nor ask superfluous questions or such as are prompted by curiosity, particularly as they pertain to future and hidden matters, all of which have nothing to do with his office” (Kesler 2012, p. 275). These are, of course, exactly the kinds of questions that Riesinger and Bunse seemed most interested in. In Riesinger’s defense, Bunse (1934, p. 3) comments, “It is true that the evil spirits are liars by habit; but they are compelled to tell the truth by the exorcism of the Church when, under the ordeal of the exorcism they attempt to lie, they feel great pain and soon cry out, ‘I have told a lie’.” Moshe Sluhovsky (2008, p. 19) describes how the traditional warning for exorcists not to listen to demons began to falter following the Protestant Reformation, when some Church officials turned to exorcism as a source of supernatural authority to confirm the tenets of Catholicism. While Schmidt’s exorcism took place long after the Protestant Reformation, her community had similar concerns. It is understandable that German Catholic immigrants, finding themselves in a new country where Catholics were a minority (and apparently mocked in the factories where Schmidt sought employment), might welcome exorcism as confirmation of their doctrines as well as of the supernatural authority of their Church. Tellingly, one of the questions Riesinger asks the damned spirit ‘Minnie’ is, “Which faith is the saving one?” to which she answers, “Only the Catholic Faith is the saving one,” repeating this again and again (Bunse 1934, p. 3). Vogl’s account, especially, portrays the 1928 exorcism as an affirmation not only of the supernatural authority of the Catholic Church but of the capacity of the entire Catholic polity to defeat the forces of Satan. Finally, discourse about the Earling exorcism points to ongoing tensions in American Catholicism between the ‘vernacular religion’ as experienced by lay Catholics and the ‘ecclesiastical religion’ espoused by Church authorities. An article that appeared on 21 March 1993, in The Des Moines Register, related an interview with Chuck Kottas, who was a priest at St. Joseph’s church in Earling where Joseph Steiger had once worked. Asked about the exorcism, Kottas replied: We have people ask about that from time to time, but we don’t answer the question. We think our community has more going for it than some incident that supposedly happened way back then. Most people today will tell you there probably wasn’t any possession at all, that the poor little girl probably just had seizures. It was blown all out of proportion.
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The various phenomena described in Begone Satan! cannot be explained away as ‘seizures’ and, of course, Schmidt was not a ‘little girl’ in 1928, but a woman in her mid-40s. Kottas may have been conflating the event somewhat with Blatty’s character, Reagan MacNeil, in The Exorcist. But at stake in Kottas’ response is a concern that such stories are an embarrassment and a distraction from what he considers to be the important work of the Church. We see this same concern 60 years earlier in Bandini’s account (1950, p. 2), where he writes, “American Catholics have been accused of many things but of nothing so disgusting as the hill-billy theology of ‘Begone Satan’.” Note that Bandini, an Italian immigrant, frames this embarrassment as a problem unique to American Catholics. In the early twentieth century, American Catholics were still perceived as superstitious immigrants and Bandini clearly feared Begone Satan! was lending ammunition to this stereotyping; he writes (1950, p. 10), “The Author’s demonology fits more with the idea of Walpurgis Night with Imps and Gnomes and Sprites and Witches on broomsticks than with Catholic doctrine.” Walpurgis Night is, of course, a Germanic tradition associated with witchcraft. Bandini’s comments portray an image of a Church desperately trying to rein in the superstitious folk traditions of German immigrants. Whatever else the Earling exorcism was, perhaps it is best conceived as what Robert Orsi calls “an abundant event.” Orsi employs this concept to think about such historical events as the experience of the Marian seer Bernadette Soubirous at Lourdes. The core of such an event is ‘a density of relationships’: in these narratives of supernatural encounters there is an intimacy not only between people, but between heaven and Earth, and the living and the dead. Within such a situation, the imagination becomes ‘unlocked,’ in the sense that old assumptions fall away and new ideas of what is possible emerge. Orsi (2016, p. 67) writes, “The givenness of the ‘real’ dissolves in the abundant event.” During the exorcism, Schmidt’s intimate relationship with Riesinger became inextricably linked to her relationships with the demons and ‘heavenly visitors,’ with her deceased family members, with mystics in Germany, and with officials in the Vatican. The exorcism even entailed a relationship between Schmidt and potential forms of herself, reflecting both her darkest fears and highest hopes about what kind of person she might be. Thanks to Joseph Steiger, the abundant event spread first through the Earling parish and then across the Atlantic ocean and throughout America. As the prophecies recorded in The Bunse Text reveal, imaginations were ‘unlocked’ and new futures became conceivable. Paula Kane (2015, p. 262) writes, “The Earling exorcism became an event that propelled Catholics from homogenous time into ‘messianic time,’ transforming the United States into a battleground where cosmic forces are always wrangling and shaping an environment that made Sister Thorn’s stigmata less incredible.” However, Orsi also notes that the Church always tries to control the supernatural ‘presence’ that emerges during abundant events. Presence – the experience of closeness to the supernatural – is both powerful and potentially destabilizing. Orsi (2016, pp. 29–30) writes, “Presence forever exceeds the bounds set for it. This is the perennial dilemma of Catholic authority. The power of the Church depends on offering access to supernatural presence while at the same time controlling who gets such access and when.” The story of the Earling exorcism has the power to energize
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American Catholics (Celestine Kapsner, the translator, called it a ‘soul-stirring’ account) or to bring embarrassment to the Church as an example of superstitious folk religion and ‘hill-billy theology.’ The Bunse Text, which was not meant to be published, had the potential for a full-blown Messianic movement centered around the return of Christ in 1955. It is no wonder Church authorities like Bandini and Kottas worked to deflate the story. In the final analysis, perhaps the most remarkable thing about the Earling exorcism is not that it happened, but that the story was ever told at all.
References Bandini, A. R. (1950). Angels on horseback: A critical review of the pamphlet ‘Begone Satan’ which relates an alleged case of demoniacal possession occurred in Earling, Iowa. Fresno: Academy Press. Blatty, W. P. (2015). If there were demons, then perhaps there were angels. New York: Tor. Bunse, F. J. (1934). The Earling possession case: An exposition of the exorcism of ‘Mary’ a demoniac and certain marvelous revelations foretelling the near advent of Antichrist and the coming persecution of the Church in the years 1952–1955. Unpublished manuscript. Ferber, S. (2004). Demonic possession and exorcism in early modern France. New York: Routledge. Kane, P. M. (2015). Sister Thorn and Catholic mysticism in modern America. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press. Kesler, K. W. (2012). The Roman rituals. Scotts Valley: CreateSpace Independent Publishing. Orsi, R. A. (2016). History and presence. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. Rodriguez, S. B. (2014). Female circumcision and clitoridectomy in the United States: A history of medical treatment. Rochester: University of Rochester Press. Sluhovsky, M. (2008). Believe not every spirit: Possession, mysticism, and discernment in early modern Catholicism. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Vogl, C. (2016). Begone Satan! A soul-stirring account of diabolical possession in Iowa. (C. Kapsner, trans.). In C. Vogel, T. Geiger, & C. Kapsner (Eds.), Mary crushes the serpent and Begone Satan! Gilbert: Caritas Publishing. Yamane, D. (2000). Narrative and religious experience. Sociology of Religion, 61(2), 171–189.
Chapter 3
Demonic Possession and Religious Scientific Debate in Nineteenth-Century France Roberta Vittoria Grossi Abstract This chapter presents the analysis of the course of legitimation of the religious system of nineteenth-century France and the redefinition of its traits in the medical and scientific debate: magnetism, hypnotism, hysteria, medicalization of consciences. The study is presented using the point-counterpoint technique, referring to the work of two theologians from the Society of Jesus: Maximilien de Haza Radlitz, the authorized exorcist of Paris diocese, and Joseph de Bonniot, collaborator of the journal Études; the former authored a chronicle of a demonic possession (1880), the latter was the author, in 1888, of a series of interventions against JeanMartin Charcot’s Les démoniaques dans l’art. The major transformation that the Church went through following the political and social events which occurred from the second half of the eighteenth century to the end of the nineteenth century fuelled a widespread sense of confusion and uncertainty. In this climate the evil, portrayed as demonic possession, constituted also the main field for scientific and religious debates. This phenomenon must be contextualized within the evolution of the epistemic framework, and a new attitude towards these expressions. Keywords Demonic possession · Exorcism · Obsession · The roman Ritual · The Society of Jesus · France · Hysteria · Psychiatry · Jean-Martin Charcot · Society · Modernity · Religious system · Scientific system · Observation · Complexity · Positivism · Constructivism theory · The Salpêtrière hospital · Grand Guignol theater · Niklas Luhmann
3.1 Introduction Historiographical studies identify the decline of demonic possessions at the end of the seventeenth century, when the discourse on the phenomenon moves away from the religious universe to be gradually subject to medical practice (de Certeau
R. V. Grossi (*) Historical archivist at the Società delle missioni africane, Roma, Italy © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 G. Giordan, A. Possamai (eds.), The Social Scientific Study of Exorcism in Christianity, Popular Culture, Religion and Society. A Social-Scientific Approach 3, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-43173-0_3
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1970; Venard 1992; Muchembled 2000). However, after the revolutionary events, France faced a wave of supernatural manifestations, not only visions of the Virgin Mary but also episodes of mysticism and demonic possession. Through the causal relationship between Satan and the Revolution, Catholicism interprets the complexity of this time. This period has been little explored by historians. Demonic possession in France is analyzed in general works (Young 2016), or in demonological literature (Muchembled 2000; Capelli 2005; Waardt de et al. 2005) and traces can be found in social history, in which it is examined as part of popular religion and superstitions (Devlin 1987); but most of all, this subject is glimpsed in studies on modern psychiatry (Gilman et al. 1993; Edelman 2003; Guillemain 2006). In Italy, a recent collection of essays (Cicerchia et al. 2015) suggests a new interest in this period when demonic possession constituted a phenomenon that was anything but residual. This essay aims to contribute to the debate on Catholic demonic possession, suggesting a new theoretical framework starting from structural functionalism theory, according to which religion is a functional subsystem within modern society, that is, an autopoietic system that produces all elements within itself (Luhmann 2013). The contribution seeks to provide an introduction to the debate on science and religion in the phase of evolution to modernity, in which scientific medicine becomes a self- organizing and self-generating system, independent of traditional moral and Catholic influences. Charcot’s studies on hysteria constitute the gateway to this modernity; in fact, his thesis is formulated starting from the scientific conception of the disease, according to the true/false code. Demonic possession in nineteenth- century France is analyzed in the country’s transition phase from a hierarchical order in which Catholic religion played a predominant role, to a modern society differentiated functionally (Luhmann 1995), in which the Church loses the monopoly of truth. The birth of psychiatry is an exceptional observatory for the investigation of the debate on Catholic demonic possession, because its status is questioned and problematized in the Foucauldian sense (Foucault 2005). But the division between the two systems is rigid: the scientific one operates with the concept of truth, the religious one with faith. All observations are plausible; society is the totality of all social subsystems, in which there is no predominant position.
3.2 Charcot’s Interpretation of the Painting The scenario is a painting by Pieter Paul Rubens (1577–1640), the Wunder des Hl. Ignatius von Loyola (1617–1618), specifically, the canvas stored at the Kunsthistorisches Museum in Vienna. The milieu is nineteenth-century France, when the iconographic theme became the focus of medical-theological reflections by a scientist, Jean-Martin Charcot (1825–1893), and a theologian, the Jesuit Joseph de Bonniot (1831–1889). At the center was a compelling question: hysteria or demonic possession?
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Le cou est gonflé… La bouche est ouverte avec protrusion de langue, les narines sont dilatées et relevées, les globes oculaires convulsés en haut et cachant presque complètement la pupille sous la paupière supérieure… La robe entr’ouverte qui retombe sur les hanches témoigne de la violence des convulsions qui ont précédé et de la fureur qu’a mise l’énergumène à se déchirer elle-même. Il était impossible de dire plus en aussi peu de traits et de réunir en une même figure plus des signes effrayants qui caractérisent la grande névrose.1 (Charcot and Richer 1887, p. 61) Deux possédés sont au pied de l’autel, un homme et une femme entourés des personnes qui les ont amenés et qui leur prêterons au besoin leur assistance. Les démons, à la vue du saint, ont pris la fuite; on les voit qui s’envolent en désordre vers le fond de l’église… Mais en partant, les démons ont laissé suivant leur ordinaire, un témoignage de leur fureur. Les deux possédés poussés à la renverse ont reçu intérieurement une secousse qui les a fait entrer en convulsion.2 (de Bonniot 1888, p. 26)
The first description is taken from Les démoniaques dans l’art by Jean-Martin Charcot and Paul Marie Louis Pierre Richer (1849–1933), published in 1887, which is an examination of demonic possession-themed artworks, based upon new knowledge of hysteria. In this review, the painting is presented as an excellent example of severe neurosis, a thesis validated by the contortions of the woman’s body depicted in the work. The second reflection is taken from the article Iconographie des possessions, that Joseph de Bonniot published in 1888 in the journal Études religieuses historiques et littéraires, to refute the arguments of the two doctors. It is not the external signs that interest the theologian, but the analytical procedure underlying work carried out based upon an incorrect iconological reading of the painting. Charcot was bound to a preconceived paradigm, completely ignoring other sources on demonic possession, such as the literary tradition of hagiography. This would have led Charcot to incur a series of errors, such as recognizing signs of hysteria in women suffering from other ills, as some biographies demonstrate (de Bonniot 1888). Charcot, a neuropsychiatrist and the founder of the science of neurology, taught anatomy at the Sorbonne and for many years was Director of the Psychiatric Clinic at the Salpêtrière hospital in Paris. His Leçons du mardi were famous. The cultured and cosmopolitan urban society participated in these lessons, including first and foremost medical colleagues, then artists, state officials, scholars, politicians, and priests. Particular importance was given to the studies on neurosis and hysteria, which Charcot strongly held to be of psychological origin, describing the symptomatology and indicating treatment through the adoption of a suggestion while in a state of hypnosis. He was the first to identify and describe some diseases, such as lateral amyotrophic sclerosis, or Charcot’s disease, and hereditary neuropathy, or Charcot-Marie-Tooth disease. His books became reference classics, translated into various languages and adopted for the training of medical students in the most prestigious European universities. His clinical work was equally important, as evidenced
1 “The neck swollen, the mouth open with protrusion of the tongue, the nostrils dilated and raised, the eyeballs convulsed, the dress half-open. The signs of great neurosis.” 2 “At the foot of the altar there are two demoniacs, a man and a woman. The demons, at the sight of the saint, flee, leaving a testimony of their fury, that is the convulsions of the two energumens.”
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by the rich international clientele who availed themselves of his experience (Charcot 1998). Les démoniaques dans l’art proposes a re-reading of works of art from the past in the light of new psychiatric theories, primarily on hysteria, through a type of strategy defined as médecine retrospective. Bas-reliefs, miniatures, frescoes, paintings and engravings, that over the centuries depicted scenes of exorcisms and described attitudes and contortions evident in possessions, represented, according to Charcot, a valid source for identifying precise aspects of a purely pathological state. Such nouvelles découvertes constituted, in themselves, solid support for remotely establishing the historical presence of intense neurosis. In some works, the depiction of the nature of the possessed (characteristics, signs, and traits) were so precise and scrupulous that, according to the two doctors, imagination could not have invented them. They suggested that the painters’ models were certainly subjects affected by hysteria (Charcot and Richer 1887). From the historians’ point of view, the process referred to as ‘retrospective medicine’ immediately proves to be an extremely dangerous procedure, and there is no hesitation in affirming it as anachronistic, due to the confusion of associating ideas with an epoch in which those ideas were unknown and for the de-historicizing of the examined artworks. In the preface to the treatise, the reader is advised not to be surprised by the recurring use of the word ‘hysteria’ throughout. The term had now assumed a meaning different from its traditional one, scientifically defining a new pathology, characterized by clear stages and periods (Charcot and Richer 1887). On the one hand, this illustrates the rapid transformation that the concept of hysteria had undergone, having been reformed and updated, its true meaning no longer having any relation to its etymological one, although it had not been long since that same term had contained moral and religious connotations. On the other hand, the process of retrospective medicine wanted to show that this disease, as it was now being understood, had always existed; it had simply been confused with something else, as if the meaning of a word and the information it contained had remained unchanged synchronically and diachronically, only to transform at some point, in a uniform and parallel way (Koselleck 2009). Georges Didi-Huberman (2007) invites us to reflect on the lesson that an analysis, even if anachronistic, projects into the society in which it is performed. Having eliminated every connection with the past, with historical-anthropological and medical aspects related to the definition of hysteria, Charcot lacked a tradition which supported his theories, leaving a void that needed to be filled by anchoring them to permanent structures identified not in the history of psychiatry, but elsewhere, in artistic representation and in the history of art. The definition of hysteria had undergone profound transformations over the centuries prior to Charcot and continued to do so in the decades following him. Its conceptual evolution is strongly rooted in the period of reference and constitutes a complex problem, from the historiographical point of view, because it has an ancient history, with the first evidence of reference to hysteria being observed on papyrus dating back to 1600 BC. The definition of hysterical neurosis is eliminated in the
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third edition of the American Psychiatric Association manual (DSM-III) and the disease is described as a dissociative identity disorder (APA 1980).
3.3 T he Salpêtrière Hospital and the New Conception of Hysteria Out of the long history of hysteria, the period in question concerns the nineteenth century, particularly in France and primarily at the Salpêtrière, where Charcot was preparing what would be called the ‘theatre of hysteria.’ Public exhibitions took place during which, through hypnosis, a hysterical attack was provoked. A ‘distorted’ curiosity surrounded this, very similar to what characterized, in the past, the treatment of obsessions through exorcisms staged by the Jesuits in France (Brambilla 2010). At the close of the eighteenth century, Franz Anton Mesmer (1734–1815) (Darnton 1968; Armando 2013) had identified the imbalance of the body’s magnetic fluids as the cause of an extensive number of illnesses, from restlessness of the soul to neurosis, traditionally characterized by religion as moral disorders. The action of the exorcist was replaced by that of the magnetizer who, through the relationship, or the connection, that he was able to establish with the patient, treated and restored equilibrium. Expressions of the ‘wondrous’ (Gallini 2013) domain of the Church, then, began a transition from the supernatural environment to medical science, but also led down a path of stigmatization and segregation of the deviant (Foucault 2011). Onto this scene, at Salpêtrière, entered a medium, a technique – photography – whose success in the psychiatric field is evidenced by the extensive collection of pictures of the insane and demented posing for photographs in Europe during these years. Photography was a sort of witness to a perception of nosological inadequacy pertaining to the possibility of connecting visible signs with the various forms of madness. There was debate about the epistemological implications of its use in clinical and pedagogical practice. Given its characteristics, it promised to show what the eye was unable to grasp. It is this final element which led Charcot, who was committed to defining a diagnostic canon in the treatment of hysteria, to using it in his clinical practice. The result is contained in Iconographie photographique de la Salpêtière (1876–1877), a collection of hystero-epilepsy cases observed in the hospital. Here, the theatre of hysteria is actually made up of various stage settings, all co-present but which can be viewed as falling into a variety of categories: clinical, hypnotic, or obscene. In this polymorphic framework, science, simulation, and internment proceeded and coexisted in that space-time dimension that constitutes the very essence of theatre (Didi-Huberman 2008). In that same period, Paul Marie Louis Pierre Richer, anatomist, physiologist, sculptor, and Charcot’s assistant, published, in 1881, a work that was both historical and medical: Études cliniques sur l’hystéro-épilepsie ou grande hystérie. His interpretation tended to emphasize the blasphemous attitude of the women in the tonic
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phase of a major hysterical attack, their passionate inclinations and the diverse facets of the attacks referred to as demonic, in a sort of hysterization of the past (Guillemain 2006). This is the framework within which the publication of Les démoniaques dans l’art is set. According to the definition from Didi-Huberman, it is a work full of paradoxes, transitioning from the past to the present (that is, from the representative- painting to the referent-illness, the symptoms), and using art to disprove a suspicion and to validate the nosological existence of a concept. Art is also used as a place in which scientific knowledge is established. Charcot designed this work following a heuristic defeat: the case of young Celina, whose symptoms and continuous body movements defied any classification. Seeing becomes knowing, and knowing how to reproduce is to re-see, and so to study and to analyse. The eye and observation are the instruments for looking for rules in the body. Therefore, Ruben’s painting shows what the body of Celina does not allow to be seen; the defeat is overcome with historic knowledge. This methodology was perfected with Iconographie photographique, in which elimination of movement – the symptom par excellence of the disease – was a technical requirement connected to the photographic procedures of the time, creating the appearance of a correct form of hysteria, the perfect attack, or rather, a simulation (Didi-Huberman 2007).
3.4 The Cultural Strategies of the Bibliothèque diabolique Between 1883 and 1902, neurologist Désiré Malgrois Bourneville (1840–1909) was head of a specific project that led to the publication and reprinting of new and ancient documents concerning cases of demonic possession. The result was a series of nine volumes known as the Bibliothèque diabolique. The objective of the collection was to reread descriptions of demoniac and ecstatic episodes to develop diagnostics for new medical theories. Each volume investigated a case from the past. Redefining the supernatural as natural and pathological kept pace with the times of secularization of republican politics; hysteria implicitly contained the rudiments of an anticlerical campaign (Goldstein 1990). The attention paid by nineteenth-century psychiatry to the possessed must be grasped through the broader interest in the phenomena of disintegration of the self that these individuals seem to express, that is, loss of self-control and of one’s will. A sort of eclipsing of the will cuts across the investigations of both Charcot and Pierre Marie Félix Janet (1859–1947), situating itself in a defined cultural context in which the focus of the subject relegates to the realm of madness everything that threatens its unity. Nevertheless, with the birth of this new field of psychiatry, heterogeneous factors converged, such as the affirmation of a new professional category, renewed questioning of the anthropological status of the person, and the vital permanency of religious figures and folk tales. On the other hand, the first descriptions of the mentally ill resort to archetypes, to classical images of religious tradition, from the mystics to the possessed, which well expressed the inner conflict at
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the base of that construction of the subject and identity, the fundamentals of modernity (Fiorino 2002). In 1886, Soeur Jeanne des Anges, supérieure. Autobiographie d’une hystérique possédée was published in the Bourneville collection. Based on an unpublished manuscript kept at the Tours library, the text was annotated by doctors Gabriel Legué (1886) and Gilles de la Tourette (1857–1904). The preface, written by Charcot, presented the autobiography of Sr Jeanne des Anges as a document with particular characteristics of sincérité et véracité. It placed the reader in direct contact with the patient who, although illiterate, left a thorough description of her suffering, thanks to meticulous self-observation, complete with instructive details not found in contemporary medical observations, allowing for a thorough analysis of her illness. These attributes confer on the document an extraordinary strength concerning the examination of hysteria in history. The hysterical suffering and the series of nervous crises, characteristic of this pathology, were clear in the Ursuline superior: somatic phenomena such as major attacks and hyper-sensitivity, vomiting blood, stigmata, visual and auditory hallucinations, and a state of suggestion leading to the perception of pregnancy (Charcot 1897). Incidentally, the physician Gilles de la Tourette presented a theatrical piece, La Dormeuse (1901), inspired by the case of a real patient (Chenivesse 2008), on the stage of the Grand Guignol (1897–1962), the macabre and comic theatre that, at the end of the nineteenth century and in reaction to the century of measure and rationality, was characterized as a spectacle of excess. It placed man in contact with madness through a speech apparently irreconcilable with scientific rigor and focused on fear and the grotesque (Rivière and Wittkop 1979; Pierron 1995). Also in 1886, Bourneville reprinted La possession de Jeanne Fery, religieuse professe du couvent des sœurs noires de la ville de Mons, which had appeared for the first time in 1584. The initiative was aimed at analysing the facts illustrated in the story for a medical interpretation of women’s afflictions characterized by convulsions, delirium and hallucinations; Bourneville went so far as to judge the attitude of the religious involved in the matter: the latter were guilty of having used the conditions of women ad usum controversiae when the true presence of Christ in the Eucharist and the cult of the saints were being questioned by Erasmus, Luther and Calvin (Bourneville 1886). In fact, the Bibliothèque, while referring to the esprit scientifique, resorted to the same rhetorical device. This criterion was applied to works of art. In this way, the Convulsionnaires de Saint Médard (1727–1760) (Maire 1985), in which various phenomena of ecstatic delirium and miracles were revealed, was examined through paintings that, portraying convulsive gestures with meticulous detail, highlighted the real nature of the manifestations, that is, the signs of hysterical attacks and of severe neurosis. In the deformations and contortions of the bodies represented, the trace of an unquestionable pre-established order and the constancy and rigor of a scientific law was identified (Charcot and Richer 1887). From the Middle Ages to Marguerite Marie Alacoque (Darricau 1990), to the Ursulines of Loudun (de Certeau 1970) up to the stigmatized of the nineteenth century, such as Louise Lateau (Guelff 2011), modern medicine constructed the
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concepts of hystero-epilepsy and hypnotism at the expense of a thousand-year-old Catholic tradition. Scientific discourse, in fact, by naturalizing the illness and investigating the brain, reinterpreted the universe of the supernatural as one of brain anomalies. In this context, Catholic literature was constituted as a normal documentary reservoir to be drawn upon to investigate diverse clinical records of pathological forms. Similar reflections touched the theological sphere and Charcot did not hesitate to attribute to the phase of hysterical attacks, defined as clownisme,3 the strength and agility of the insane that the Roman Ritual assigns to the presence of a demonic force as soon as the energumen shows a physical power superior to that normal for the age and sex of the person who manifests it. In the first half of the nineteenth century and up to the 1870s, the territory of mental illness remained strongly dominated by religious practices. Conditioned by theology, the alienist physicians believed that the recovery of the rational will in the madman occurred as a result of moral treatment; while the religious and exorcists did not reject the progress of medicine, they preserved the evangelical and therapeutic function of the Church. Feelings of compassion, humility, self-denial, and gentleness were long constituted as the means to fight the sin at the root of madness. The break between the two systems is outlined in a concrete way from the 1870s with the progress of positivism, the process of the medicalization of society, and the publication of Darwinian theories on evolution (The Origin of Species 1859) that, transforming the image of the causes of evil, gave a further impetus to the process of secularization of the soul. Moreover, in the middle of the century, an intense debate about hallucinations had overwhelmed the concept of the mystic, transforming it into someone afflicted by a pathological state and reconfiguring it into the category of ‘the hallucinating’ (Piretti 2017). In this changed perspective, madness loses all moral characteristics, and religion, judged as the most pathogenic form of delirium, leaves the scene. The first conference on hysteria (1870), led by Jean-Martin Charcot, strengthened the arguments in favor of the pathologization of the mystical states, contributing to the social deconstruction of demonic possession (Guillemain 2006).
3 The hysterical attack occurs in four stages. The first, defined as epileptoid, is articulated by a tonic, clonic and resolution phase. It begins with convulsions and the loss of knowledge. The second stage, of contortions or clownisme, is characterized by great acrobatic movements, including the circle arc, in which an exaggerated force appears in the patient. The third is that of the passionate attitudes in which hallucinations are manifested. The fourth is the terminal period, in which the patient gradually regains his balance (Charcot and Richer 1887).
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3.5 The Religious and Scientific System When separated from the religious setting, modern psychiatry removes from its praxis the disturbing elements considered to be wrong – in the first place, the moral practices. It is a new paradigm that no longer corresponds to the pairings of health/ holiness and illness/sin but is based on the scientific health/disease binomial. On the contrary, the extraordinary experiences of mystics and demoniacs registered at that time are clear proof of an episteme that was disappearing in the face of scientific advance. From a brief review of the documents kept at the Archives of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith that relate to France, significant data emerge on nineteenth-century demonic possession, connected to diverse demonstrations that range from aspirations for spiritual renewal to legitimist claims. They suggest a widespread circulation of the phenomenon, greater than what is recorded in the Roman sources. It is not just a matter of a few case records and the fragmented figure of tradition, multiplied in an assortment of diabolic profiles in which the deep conflicts of France at the time are also recapped in a representative way. Such experiences, peculiar to women, are often linked to political-territorial interests, from which ecclesiastical hierarchy representatives were not exempt. Now far from the mass epidemics of previous centuries, the cases analyzed remain bound by individual events, for which there is still space, although residual, in culture and society. An extremely careful and suspicious ecclesiastical environment was confronted with these cases and, because of the current debate, these episodes had to be carefully examined, guaranteeing an unquestionable degree of certainty to the few that were recognized as authentic and that had gone through a strict filter. Un seul cas de possession tranche le débat entre les croyantes et les incroyantes.4 (Leroy 1897, p. 342)
3.6 J oseph de Bonniot S.J. and the Debate on Demonic Possession The Society of Jesus and the magazine Études played a leading role in the debate with medicine and in the refutation of those theories that, rereading the past, also examined the biographies of the saints. The French Catholic periodical of contemporary culture was founded in Paris in 1856 by Jean Xavier Gagarin (Ivan Sergeyevich Gagarin 1814–1882) (Beylard 2001) with the name Études de théologie, de philosophie et d’histoire, becoming Études religieuses historiques et 4 “A single case of demonic possession cuts the debate between believers and unbelievers” – Henry Joseph Leroy (1847–1917) from the pages of Études in the article: Démons et démoniaques (1897) replying to L’homme et l’intelligence (1884), by the French physician and physiologist Charles Robert Richet (1850–1935), Nobel prize winner in 1913 for discoveries on anaphylactic shock. The Jesuit proposed a theological synthesis of possession from the Holy Scriptures and the Ritual.
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littéraires in 1862, and finally Études in 1897. It was suspended several times due to war events and resumed regular publication in 1888. The topics covered ranged from the defence of Catholic teaching to the polemics concerning the philosophical interpretations of the Thomist tradition on the union of body and soul, as well as a special interest in the direct study of the sources (Vallin 2000). De Bonniot collaborated with the journal from 1866 until his death in 1889, when his final articles on possession and hypnotism were published (de Bonniot 1889–1890). His obituary praised his zeal and determination in the face of scientific controversies, about which he was quite knowledgeable (Nécrologie 1889). He was the author of numerous works on miracles, hysteria, hypnotism, ecstasy, magic, spiritism, demonic possession, and mental suggestion (Sommervogel 1890), which were printed in this same journal as well as in several monographs. The key points of his reflections were based upon the natural/supernatural distinction, on the heart–brain difference, on the unity of the body, and the separation from the soul. He wrote during a period when science replaced the soul with the brain and was breaking down the human body by investigating its individual parts. In the first half of the nineteenth century, theories about this, censured by the Church, had already been circulated. The physician Franz Joseph Gall (1758–1828) is given credit for the first complete description of the skull and for the theory that intellectual and moral faculties are located in the brain (Alfieri 2017). De Bonniot developed a series of essays explicitly aimed at challenging the modern scientific theses. Hence, the need to clarify that the consciousness (in which all sensations are gathered: pain, joy, sadness, love, doubt, certainty, will, knowledge, and judgement – that is, phenomena and changes of the soul that are perceived from within) reveals the indivisibility of the person. In an open argument to the theses of doctor Claude Bernard (1813–1878) related to the heart muscle as a suction pump and to the brain as the unique organ for sensitivity and thought, the theologian establishes the relationship of the heart with the sensitivity faculties of the soul, considering the heart to be capable of unimaginable spiritual operations for a bodily organ (de Bonniot 1889). With a rational eye, science was investigating during a time of maximum propagation of the Sacred Heart of Jesus, a devotion opposing the spread of rational enlightenment and the principles of the Revolution. It was not about the adoration of a body part, but a symbol of Christ’s life, in which the Church brought together emblems of the Passion and the royalty of the Son of God. At the same time, it was turned into a refuge from the anxieties and hardships of existence and allowed to give voice through its polysemic nature to a collective spirituality steeped in all its anthropological-existential aspects (De Giorgi 1996). The Jesuit Henri Ramière (1821–1878), a theologian of grace and the mystical body, was among the greatest proponents of the Sacred Heart and of Christocentric theology. He is best known as: the propagator of the Apostolat de la Prière; the founder, in 1861, of the Messager du Coeur de Jésus; and a supporter of the return to Thomist philosophy in response to the challenges of liberalism (Mayeur and Hilaire 1985). Through the pages of Études religieuses historiques et littéraires, he
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even sought a type of mediation with the scientific theses that did not negate the idea of the heart moved by the most noble sentiments (Ramière 1874). This debate raised far more complex questions relative to the concept of the soul, engaging theologians on heterogeneous ground. De Bonniot did not fail to investigate such a universe, in order to understand the different actions exerted upon a person from a demonic presence compared to pathological causes. The starting point of his examinations was the distinction between passionate life and personal life, which were subject to a reciprocal influence because the former influences the latter. This concept became the key to understanding the phenomena of possession and hypnotism. The practice of hypnotism had been defined as the technique for transforming man into animal, since it makes room for passions by allowing artificial sleep to numb attention and free will. In this condition, reason is inactive, imagination and memory follow the influence of the hypnotist and, upon awakening, the subject is unable to remember. At the same time, demonic possessions are described as cases of hypnotism in which an infernal spirit dominates. A more intelligent and skilful being that perfectly knows the constitution of the human body, the role of passions and affections, that is, emotions, has the power to shake up or paralyse at its pleasure the material fibres upon which rational life depends. The difference between the two states, possession and hypnotism, according to the theologian, is determined through two different methods of savoir-faire. As a creature, the Devil is subject to the conditions of its origin, having the power to change without being able to create anything new and without ever directly reaching the soul (de Bonniot 1889a). The passionate or sensitive life is a playground for the demon’s work, since he directs his efforts to the nerves, energetically provoking and exciting them. This type of agitation can coexist with a determination contrary to that of the subject, resulting in two contrasting actions. The resistance triggered in the individual, in which two opposing forces battle, takes on a violent character due to the energy of the excitation and the more energetic effects of the resistance. However, while demonic obsession is very painful, the possessed person would not be aware of this condition because personal life has been annulled. The obsession presupposes the simultaneous suspension of rational faculties, configuring itself as a state analogous to lethargy or catalepsy. The demon, in fact, turns the human body to clay in its hands, inducing anomalous, monstrous poses and employing the brain to manifest anger, pride, and hatred of God, which can all explode in a crisis that has no limits. This singular intelligence would prevent possession from appearing to be a type of mental disorder (de Bonniot 1890b). This meticulous analysis can be viewed as a response to rationalist medicine and its denial of extraordinary manifestations in favor of explanations based upon natural causes. It was intended to provide “[un obstacle, du moins dans quelques esprits, à l’invasion de la grande hérésie des temps actuels, qui est le naturalisme! [an obstacle to the invasion of the great heresy of present times, which is naturalism]” (de Bonniot 1879, p. XI). When scientific discourse becomes dominant, the Church must reconstruct its own legitimate path. In this framework, de Bonniot’s articles in Études, which were
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developed in response to Les démoniaques dans l’art, not only constitute a critique of Charcot’s theses, but also have the characteristics of a theological treatise with which to discern cases of demonic possession. These principles were essentially recognized in the guidelines of the Roman Ritual: Signa autem obsidentis Daemonis sunt: ignota lingua loqui pluribus verbis, vel loquentem intelligere; distantia et occulta patefacere; vires supra aetatis aut conditionis naturam ostendere, et id genus alia, quae cum plurima concurrunt, majora sunt indicia.5 (de Bonniot 1888b, p. 33)
If, historically, the process of liberation from demons has been enriched by numerous variations, not always orthodox (Lavenia 2010), the interventions in Études indicate on several occasions the unavoidable recourse to the Ritual. This insistent reference indicates, first of all, in a tormented phase for the history of the Church, the need to place these dynamics within solid and recognized boundaries. Moreover, this strategy allows the body and its physical and psychological manifestations, now dominated by medicine, to be excluded from disputes over its government. It is a transition of expertise and ends: from the Church to the State, from religion to science, from salvation to healing. Drawing on the cases of the Catholic tradition, de Bonniot carefully explains the canonical path used by the exorcist in his discernment, thus distinguishing his competence from that of the doctor. Traditionally, the Church had made use of an approach based on the separation of skills: to the priest the task of administering spiritual remedies, to the physician the competence of physical remedies within a framework favorable to religion. The boundary between natural and supernatural also marked the difference between what was and what was not medically treatable (Dondelinger-Mandy 1990). With Charcot, this mechanism is reversed: faith becomes functional to medicine in the thesis of psychological autosuggestion, as can be deduced from the essay La foi qui guerit (1897). His argument takes its cue from the concept of faith-healing developed in the Anglo-Saxon area to scientifically explain the suggestive force in some religiously practicing patients. But extraordinary healing does not escape the natural order of things, appearing to be a singular disposition of the patient, that is, faith in what is commonly referred to as a miracle. The physician Pierre Marie Félix Janet (1898) resorts to a so-called modern exorcism to send away the “devil of remorse” from the patient, neutralizing the theological dimension of this ministry. Taking advantage of the procedures known to him, regarding the ritual of exorcism, he manages to hypnotize a patient and discover the discomfort at the base of his psychosis – severe moral disorder. The restoration of balance was attained through medical care because the devils were nothing but the shadow of his remorse.
5 The Ritual of exorcism in use was practically identical to that published in 1614 by Pope Paul V (Dondelinger-Mandy 1990). “Signs which may indicate a demonic possession: people understand and speak in languages they never learned; knowledge of distant or hidden events; showing superhuman strength.” Also, extreme aversion to the sacred.
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In de Bonniot’s Iconographie des possessions, the need to clearly outline the function of exorcism seems implicit. A rigorous investigation by the priests is required and only when faced with insufficient ordinary means can they appeal to the exorcist to verify the demonic origin of the evil, that is, the intervention of a power with an intelligence superior to that of man. The same Ritual authorizes an appeal to the doctor for recognition of illnesses whose symptoms are similar to those of the possessed and which could be misleading. In this way, confirming the domain of competence of theology, de Bonniot highlighted the gaps in Charcot’s conclusions and in the whole operation underlying Les démoniaques dans l’art. De Bonniot contrasts the theological tradition with the instruments, subjective and fallible – the eye and observation – as used by the medical scientist. There was, in fact, a substantial difference. In the religious system, knowledge is what tradition has defined as such, that is, authority, and every experience contrary to it is rejected. Scientific truth, on the other hand, focuses on what has been empirically proven and affirms itself precisely through contestation with the authority of tradition. The theologian’s conclusions outline the inherent objective in the painting by Rubens: not of representing a clinical subject but rather the supernatural power of St. Ignatius. It was not a real scene, since the saint had never practiced the ministry of the exorcist, but an apologetic, symbolic representation, testimony to his power against demons manifested after death. Undoubtedly, more pressing questions relating to the very essence of the supernatural constituted the background of such literature, when psychiatric science and brain studies evaluated these phenomena as somatic dysfunction.
3.7 A Heterodox Hypothesis on Santa Teresa Limits to medicalization had to be determined in a clear and unequivocal way. In the religious arena, particular institutions and mechanisms perform the task of correcting error, deviation from the rules. It is for this reason that Les phénomènes hystériques et les révélations de sainte Thérèse (1883) by the Jesuit Josephus Hahn (1836–1906), that is, the three essays published in the Revue des questions scientifiques, end up in the Index Librorum Prohibitorum in 1886 (ACDF C. L. 1875/5, 1886; Piretti 2017). The author’s intention was to enter the scientific debate through an investigation supported by a methodological approach which the rationalists could share (Hahn 1883, p. 80): “Nous nous sommes proposé d’examiner si les visions et les révélations de sainte Thérèse présentent un caractère surnaturel, susceptible d’être démontré avec toute la rigueur des procédés scientifiques.”6
6 “We have tried to verify if the visions and the revelations of Saint Teresa have a supernatural character, that can be demonstrated with all the rigor of the scientific procedures.”
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The essays begin with a careful examination of the discoveries, theories and experiments of Charcot at the Salpêtrière, where Hahn goes to deepen the research, intentionally omitting the documentation and the procedures provided by the act of canonization. His opinion is clearly positive, acknowledging the scientific merits of the progress achieved in the medical field. The articles summarize everything concerning hysteria, in order to examine and explain the extraordinary phenomena that Teresa d’Avila experienced; therefore, the available biographical sources are compared with the clinical documentation of the hysterical attack and with the letters and reports to the confessors, as well as with the physicians’ reports concerning the signs of the disease (Hahn 1883, p. 81): “Thérèse souffrait d’une hystérie organique, elle n’était nullement atteinte d’hystérie intellectuelle.”7 Hahn ambiguously established that the symptoms were those of the illness, while the intellect and morals, usually affected by the same phenomena, remained free and therefore under the competence of the Church. Such conclusions gave rise to denunciations and criticisms that the work contained pernicious definitions, and false and injurious claims that the saint was equivalent to the hysterics of Salpêtrière and had never been possessed by demons. The barefoot Carmelites took a further step by making a request to the Prefect of the Congregation of Rites to handle the situation (ACDF C. L. 1875/5, 1886). The demon was not only a matter of debate with science, it concerned a problem of faith itself. From Luhmanian reflections, we know that the Devil and hell constitute the positive value of the God/demon code, and with its renunciation, the capacity to characterize God collapses (Luhmann 2016). The Nobel Laureate, Richet, in L’homme et l’intelligence (1884), finding no more cases of possession and witchcraft, decreed the disappearance of demons. He was convinced that no one was willing to believe in the presence of the Devil anymore or in his intervention in the lives of men, since science had foiled Satan’s tricks and revealed that in delirium a precise order was hidden, that is, a pathology. Tel est le verdit de la science moderne… Elle a décidé que les possessions du démon sont aujourd’hui impossibles et même que le démon n’existe pas…écoutez au moins un laïque, un homme de monde qui vient vous raconter simplement ce qu’il a vu et entendu.8 (Gasaudan 1895)
“Teresa suffered from physical hysteria, but she was free from intellectual hysteria.” “This is the verdict of modern science according to which the demoniacs do not exist today. Listen to a layman, a man of the world who simply tells you what he has seen and heard.” 7 8
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3.8 N otre-Dame of Pellevoisin, a City-Shelter Against the Demons As the above citation from Gasaudan shows, in accordance with the times, anyone who felt the need could communicate his or her experience regarding demons, and a free literature on this subject circulated. The book Histoire d’une possédée du Démon (Gasaudan 1895) interests us in a special way because of the description that the author gives of the sanctuary of Notre-Dame of Pellevoisin, defined as a cityshelter for all those who were tormented by the spirits of evil. It originated in 1883, and a mere 10 years later the confraternity associated with it had 200,000 members and the scapular was widespread throughout France. The place became known following the visions of thirty-year-old Estelle Faguette (1843–1929) in Pellevoisin (Faguette 1993; Gétrey 1994; Tentori 2006), diocese of Bourges, who was ill and to whom the Virgin appeared from 15 February to 8 December 1876. Thanks to Mary, she completely recovered from pulmonary tubercular lesions. The divine messages guided people towards prayer, the reparation of the outrages to Jesus, and the spread of a scapular, approved on 4 April 1900 (Laurenti and Sbalchiero 2010). In a short time, Pellevoisin became the symbol of liberation, thanks to Estelle’s victory over the demons. The sacred place, in fact, denotes stability, and provides a path towards the heavens through which rebirth occurs. It offers itineraries of the body and the spirit and places where humanity is put in communication with the divine omnipotence and experiences regeneration and liberation through rituals and prayers (Dupront 1993).
3.9 Unusual Female Congregation, Victims of Demons It’s not surprising that the same sanctuary is at the center of a complex and articulated story linked to the case of the demonic possession of a young woman of Auxerre, Désirée Léjeune (1846–1940). Considered demonically possessed, her spiritual director sent her to Paris in 1876, where she met the official exorcist of the diocese, the Jesuit Maximilien de Haza Radlitz (1831–1909). The exorcisms she received, around 40, some official, many in the privacy of the confessional, did not result in liberating her definitively. The Virgin of Pellevoisin represents the fundamental figure around which the practice of exorcism revolves. The Immaculate, who was the subject of the visions of the possessed woman, transmitted messages to her for the foundation of a new religious order directed at opposing evil. The theologian Joseph de Bonniot, mentioned previously, personally assisted at two exorcisms, on 10 February 1879 (APUG ms 3016) and 10 March 1879 (APUG ms 3017), as an expert of the phenomena and by virtue of the fact that his brother, Victor de Bonniot,
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a priest, represented a constant presence at the events; he was deeply disturbed and drew up a testimony about it. The exorcist, de Haza Radlitz, taking notes day by day for about 3 years, composed a Récit (1877–1880), a chronicle, consisting of 12 manuscript notebooks (APUG ms 3009–3020) . It is the fresco of a microcosm whose description is characterized by completeness. The elements that traditionally identify a story of possession and exorcism are all present. It is populated with a variety of figures, symbols, and devices that make it a miniature condensate of the religious and social milieu of late nineteenth-century France. The Devil is at the center of the narrative that constitutes, first of all, the reflection of a cultural system: the theology of visibility. From the best known characters, Lucifer and Beelzebub, to the historical characters considered heretical by the Church, like Elizabeth of England, Cromwell, Robespierre, Marat, and Voltaire, these figures intruded alternately and incessantly into the woman’s body without actually freeing her permanently. The Devil’s word is the fulcrum of the history and the pages dedicated to the interrogators constitute the predominant part of the chronicle’s structure. In this way, the reader is confronted with a hostile and incomprehensible utterance, forced into direct contact with a document that is sometimes illegible, and lacking an edifying ending. Called to perform the role of Victimes, against their own will, a group of young people entered the circle of Désirée Léjeune and were chosen by divine will to live this condition; not a demoniac epidemic, but a divine plan that the Virgin Mary communicated to the young woman during a vision, giving them the precise task of suffering and offering themselves, against their will, by remaining indefinitely in a state of possession. The protagonist encounters, in a more or less direct way, other cases of demonic possession, unrelated to the project she was announcing, and with very peculiar experiences: those of the false mystic Madeleine Cantianille Bourdois Nicout and the visionary Jeanne Piechocka. The first, marked by a rather complex biography, is inserted in the vein of the eschatological and apocalyptic movement of the political struggles linked to the monarchical restoration and the diocese of Maurienne (Multon 2002). In 1866, Jean-Charles Thorey published the Rapports merveilleux de Madame Cantianille B. avec le monde surnaturel (condemned by the Holy Office), frescoing in two volumes the prodigious life of the woman, the possession, the celestial visions, the definitive liberation. In the second case, of Polish origin and closer to Désirée Léjeune, the visionary defined herself as chosen by Our Lady to carry out the special mission of spiritually uniting herself in marriage with her confessor and freeing the world from evil (ACDF, RV 1918 n. 6).
3.10 Demons and Complexity’s Reduction The return of demons to Earth is a theme that fully conforms with the sensibility of the period and the concept of reparation within the dominant theme of devotion that deeply marks the nineteenth-century French society pervaded by apocalyptic visions. The disrupting of the socio-political equilibrium of the Ancien
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Régime, the Franco-Prussian war, and the capture of Rome, consolidated the reading of such events as punishments from God. The profound transformation that the Church encountered inevitably generated a widespread feeling of uncertainty, and a language full of moral, mystical and apocalyptic overtones became customary in a context of collective disorientation. An expectation of redeeming and miraculous intervention circulated in the Catholic conscience of the time. This religious orientation, starting from a dogmatic position, would have taken root in low-class environments, thanks also to the multiplication of Marian apparitions (Stella 1968). These characteristics are summarized in the figure of Pius IX and in his speeches to the faithful, when he recalled the punishments that the suppression of temporal power had brought to the people of God. The recourse to medieval images, like the figure of the Antichrist, together with the waiting for the triumph of the Church, increased the number of prophecies, signs, and wonders. In a peasant society, a theology of punishment, simplistic but effective, in which the castigation followed the sins, the miracle and the extraordinary intervention offered compensation for a life that felt excluded from any kind of gratification (Camaiani 1976). In this context, the theme of the Devil reappears in the speeches of the Pope. The Civiltà Cattolica resorted to using the figure of the demon by linking Luther’s heresy to the Revolution and socialism. This established a causal relationship with reality that would prove to be suitable for every historical circumstance in which it was necessary to bear witness to the primacy of faith, against the opponents from every era. The image of the Devil, more accessible than any treatise, could have rooted in the popular consciousness the idea of truth and error; and the Immaculate, who crushes the head of the snake, rises to a counter-revolutionary symbol, through a visual representation of evil (Camaiani 1972).
3.11 Conclusion The article has provided a reading on the debate concerning Catholic demonic possession in France during the nineteenth century, when hysteria became the explanatory paradigm for the investigation of the phenomena traditionally linked to it. The Church, to safeguard her competences, re-examined the figure of the demon through a rich literature on the subject, in which the Jesuits played a predominant role. At that point, with respect to a new wave of cases, the Church carried out a meticulous review and confirmed only a few cases as authentic. Unlike in the past, in which the Church’s truth was predominant in society, the religious explanation of the phenomenon of possession remains valid only in the sphere of believers, while in the rest of society it will be interpreted differently – through hysteria, for example. Therefore, the progressive disappearance of religious and moral aspects from nineteenth-century medical practices should not be understood as a symptom of a particular irreligiosity of the society; it is connected exclusively with social evolution.
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Mayeur, J. M., & Hilaire, Y. M. (1985). Dictionnaire du monde religieux dans la France contemporaine, 1. Les Jésuites (P. Duclos, Ed.). Paris: Beauchesne. Muchembled, R. (2000). Une histoire du diable, XII–XX siècle. Paris: Seuil. Multon, H. (2002). Catholicisme intransigeant et culture prophétique. Revue historique, CCCIV/I, 124–135. Nécrologie. (1889). Études religieuses historiques et littéraires, ann. XXVI, t. XLVIII, septembre- décembre, 513–514. Piretti, G. (2017). Teresa d’Ávila e il dibattito medico-psichiatrico sulla santità in Francia nell’Ottocento: un caso paradigmatico, un esempio singolare. Dimensioni e problemi della ricerca storica, 2, 211–242. Pierron, A. (1995). Le Grand Guignol: le théâtre des peurs à la Belle Époque. Paris: Laffont. Ramière, H. (1874). La dévotion au sacré Cœur et la physiologie. Études religieuses historiques et littéraires, ann. V, t. VI, 481–507; 801–820 Richet, C. R. (1884). L’homme et l’intelligence. Fragments de physiologie et de psychologie. Paris: F. Alcan. Rivière, F., & Wittkop, G. (1979). Grand Guignol. Paris: Henri Veyrier. Sommervogel, C. (Ed.). (1890). Bibliothèque de la Compagnie de Jésus (Vol. I, pp. 1748–1753). Paris/Bruxelles: Picard-Schepens. Stella, P. (1968). Per una storia del profetismo apocalittico cattolico ottocentesco. Rivista di Storia e Letteratura Religiosa, 4, 448–469. Tentori, A. M. (2006). La tutta misericordiosa. Le apparizioni di Pellevoisin. Milano: Edizioni Paoline. Thorey, M. J. C. (1866). Rapports merveilleux de Madame Cantianille B. avec le monde surnaturel. Paris: Louis-Hebvé, Libraire-Editeur. Vallin, P. (2000). Études. Histoire d’une revue. Une aventure jésuite. Des origines au Concile Vatican II (1856 à 1965). Études, numéro spécial. Venard, M. (1992). La hantise du Diable. In M. Venard & M. Mayeur (Eds.), Histoire du Christianisme des origines à nos jours, VIII, Les temps des confessions (pp. 1530–1620/30). Paris: Desclée-Fayard. Waardt de, H. et al. (2005). Dämonische Besessenheit: zur Interpretation eines kulturhistorischen Phänomens. Bielefeld: Verlag für Regionalgeschichte. Young, F. (2016). A history of exorcism in Catholic Christianity. London/New York: Palgrave Macmillan.
Chapter 4
A Brazilian Exorcist at the Beginning of the Twentieth Century: The Supernatural as an Empowerment Strategy Tiago Pires Abstract The purpose of this essay is to understand how and why exorcisms were practiced in the Archdiocese of Mariana, Brazil, and how that procedure was connected to the cultural, religious and social imaginary of that society. To achieve this goal, we will analyze a case study about a Brazilian exorcist, Monsignor José Silvério Horta (1859–1933), during a time period in which exorcism was not a customary practice among Church members. At the beginning of the twentieth century, the Catholic Church in Brazil was faced with various difficulties caused by the secularization of society and the loss of the public Church’s legitimacy. The Brazilian nation had also opened its doors to new religions (like American Protestantism and Spiritism), thus giving way to a religious ‘competition,’ although Catholicism remained an influential institution. In the Archdiocese of Mariana, the population of Minas Gerais suffered several periods of hardship due to economic difficulties and epidemics of disease. As a consequence, individuals expanded their search for cures. Exorcism was offered to deal with some of these social demands and to provide ‘spiritual cures’ to a population that was living in a period of ‘weak believing,’ as well as an instrument to reinforce the institutional power and legitimacy of Catholicism. Keywords Exorcism · Brazilian catholicism · Diabolical possession · Autobiography
T. Pires (*) University of Campinas/FAPESP, São Paulo, Brazil © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 G. Giordan, A. Possamai (eds.), The Social Scientific Study of Exorcism in Christianity, Popular Culture, Religion and Society. A Social-Scientific Approach 3, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-43173-0_4
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4.1 Introduction Monsignor José Silvério Horta was born on 20 July 1859, in São José da Barra Longa, Minas Gerais, Brazil. During the course of his ecclesiastical activities, he took on important positions, for example, as canon of the Cathedral of Mariana and later as secretary of the bishopric (1898–1918). In 1904, he received the title of Secret Chamberlain of Pius X. Later, in 1925, he obtained from the Holy See the nomination of Domestic Prelate. From 1916 to 1926 he served as pro-Vicar General and official exorcist of the Archdiocese. Monsignor Horta was not, then, some unknown priest vainly attempting to exercise his ministry outside of the Church’s boundaries. He took on many important occupations in the Archdiocese of Mariana. In 1932, 1 year before his death, he wrote an autobiography about his life and experiences as an exorcist. This document – still unpublished – will be the main source for this paper, as it contains important considerations about exorcism that cannot be found in other publications of that time period.1 The practice of exorcism was very rare in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, even in South America. During our researches in the Vatican Secret Archives, we discovered that the Holy See was very cautious in analyzing possible possession cases coming from Brazil. The purpose of this paper is to understand how and why exorcism was practiced in the province of Minas Gerais, and how that form of practice was connected to the cultural, religious and social history of that society. At the beginning of the twentieth century, the Catholic Church in Brazil had to confront several difficulties: it was a time of secularization of the society and loss of the public Church’s legitimacy. Catholicism initiated several processes of self- consolidation so as to regain its supremacy in the face of national politics and changes in the population. Academic reviews on this subject refer to a period of ultramontanism, in which one of the Church’s purposes was the recovery of ecclesial power and the centralization of the Church’s power in the papacy. At that moment, Catholicism was still the predominant religion in both the private and public scenarios, despite the losses of privilege due to the separation of Church and State in the Constitution of 1891. The word ‘ultramontanism’ comes from the Latin ‘ultra montes’, meaning ‘beyond the mountains,’ referring to the Alps. The true origin of this term can be found in medieval ecclesiastical language, that denominated as ‘ultramontane’ all the non-Italian pontiffs (Santirocchi 2010, p. 24). In the nineteenth century, the term was used to explain a current theological perspective in Europe and also in Brazil 1 Until 2012, most of the documentation in the Ecclesiastical Archive of the Archdiocese of Mariana regarding Monsignor José Silvério Horta was not available for public consultation, such as his autobiography and personal correspondences. We obtained access to them through a special authorization by the Archdiocese to develop research about Monsignor Horta in partnership with Brazilian historian Virginia Buarque. In the Vatican Secret Archive (ASV) we found letters and official Holy See documents regarding Monsignor Horta and his contemporaries’ perspective on exorcism. In the ASV, all the analyzed sources were available for consultation.
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that aimed to support the central power and the supremacy of the papacy in decisions of the Catholic Church. It was also inspired by a Tridentine model of Catholicism. In this period, ultramontanism was defined by a set of practices of the Catholic Church against the regalism of the Catholic States and against the new political tendencies developed after the French Revolution and the secularization process of modern societies. In Brazil, ultramontanism guided many ecclesiastical hierarchy reformation projects intended to increase the empowerment of the Church and the centralization of religious power in the hands of the bishopric and the Pope (Pires 20142; Santirocchi 2010). From 1891, with this official separation of Church and State and the opening up of the religious field, one can clearly perceive an increased development of new religions in Brazil, such as American Protestantism and Spiritism (often mediated by African religiosity). This became a problem for the Catholic Church, as it was one of the first times that Brazilian Catholicism had to face the upsurge of new institutional forms of belief. All these historical changes created a veritable ‘spiritual’ and cultural war between Catholicism and these new religions, especially Spiritism. Monsignor Horta frequently repeats, in his writings, that the possessed, before seeking an exorcist, had participated at Spiritism sessions. Exorcism hence arose as a historical-cultural practice to cope with some of these social changes and to provide ‘spiritual cures’ to a population that was living in a period of ‘weak believing’ (de Certeau 2006), as well as being a cultural instrument or means to aid the people in the midst of their physical and existential problems. Exorcism in that period can be understood as an empowerment strategy to win back the power of the Church, and as a religious-cultural approach to dealing with the struggles of the local population. Certainly, it was not just a political strategy of the Church hierarchy: certain beliefs would not have been sustainable if they had merely been imposed by institutional power. There was already, amongst the population, an ‘environment’ and scenario apt to supporting this kind of practice. Not only exorcism in itself, but also a supernatural atmosphere, already present in Minas Gerais, formed that religious-cultural basis in the population necessary to tolerate and support just such a kind of ecclesiastical ministry.
4.2 T he ‘Superhuman’ in Horta’s Trajectory: Culture, Social Demands and Conflicts Events interpreted by Horta and his contemporaries as ‘supernatural’ had been part of this priest’s experience and ‘trajectory’ since childhood. In the following recounting, present in his autobiography, an ordinary and everyday situation is exposed to
Pires, T. (2014). O pastor das almas: José Silvério Horta e a construção cultural de um sacerdote exemplar. Unpublished Thesis (Master in History). Campinas: IFCH/Unicamp.
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a subjective analysis, transforming it into an intrusion by the ‘Devil,’ represented by an animal: I was, by then, a little older and happened not to be wearing pants but [rather] a long sweater. I was very ashamed to take care of my physiological needs in the presence of others and [so] I distanced myself from home to find a more appropriate site. It occurred several times that, in that location, there was a huge cat that faced me with flaming eyes. The cat was, naturally, frightened when someone shouted, ‘Our Lady!,’ and that animal suddenly disappeared. (Horta 1932, p. 2 (AEAM)).
Cases such as this recur throughout the life of José Silvério Horta. Some events were interpreted as ‘diabolic’ intervention also by Bishop Don Benevides and other ecclesiastical leaders of the Archdiocese of Mariana. Horta narrated in his autobiography the following situation, referring to a pastoral visit in which he was accompanied by the bishop: One night I went in search outside the house for some place to look after my physiological functions, and [so] I took a walk outside until [I reached] the end of the street. I then came to the wall of the local cemetery. When I got there, I saw a huge black-haired dog that began to growl and threaten me. Frightened [and] without any weapon, I took the Rosary of Our Lady from my pocket and with it in my hands I also threatened him, and that ghost disappeared, giving a shout as if he had been shot. Trembling with fear, I returned to the house. The next day I asked who the dog’s owner was, but no one knew of that animal. And as I persisted in this inquiry, the Bishop told me: ‘My Horta, you do not need to inquire about the owner of the dog, because it was the devil.’ I doubted somewhat but, ten years later, when I was, by then, a priest, on the bishop’s request I did exorcisms on a madman in Barbacena, and the devil on that occasion told me that he was the dog that I already knew. (Horta 1932, pp. 12–13 (AEAM))
In addition to this evil representation of a ferocious dog or cat – a recurrent social imaginary in modern history (Muchembled 2001, p. 147) – Horta attributed another event in his life to a supernatural order: a supposed angelic intervention. The angel he describes seems to be almost a blend of biblical representation and the symbology present in the early literature of the Roman Empire – an angel without wings or halo – but embroidered with a more elaborate and fanciful depiction, present in literary recounts from the fourth century onward, later revisited by the Renaissance with a rather infantilized and androgynous image of a blonde angel with childish traits (Jones 2011, p. 30). These more naturalistic angelic representations, though encompassing the characteristics of traditional angels (with wings and haloes), also became more recurrent in the cultural production of the nineteenth century (Jones 2011, p. 24). One of the factors that must have certainly contributed to Horta’s various supernatural interpretations of everyday situations was his religious background. In his autobiography he mentioned two priests who wrote about mystical theology in the eighteenth century: I continued to dedicate myself to Mr. Bishop’s private services at the Palace. To my usual studies, I added ascetic and mystical theology. The excellent compendium of Schram had, as it were, fallen into my hands, and I deliciously devoured it in a short time. I was also able to admire the mystical work of Scaramelli, which I appreciated mainly because he explored all the doctrines of Schram’s compendium, both having published their works at the same
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time, without knowing each other, one in Italy and the other in Germany. What happiness to have thus been able to complete my studies of Moral [Theology] for my future ministry as a Confessor! (Horta 1932, p. 12 (AEAM))
According to Ceci Mariani (2012), during the course of modern history, mystical theology suffered a ‘divorce’, detaching itself from its medieval model as well as from that of early modernity. ‘Supernatural practices,’ such as upheavals, ecstasies, visions, and other forms of sacred experiences, did not necessarily disappear, but they were no longer a priority. ‘Union with God’ was to be attained, rather, through a process of self-emptying and mortification, as proposed by the French school of spirituality. What happened is that at “the end of the nineteenth century and the beginning of the twentieth century…a new [form] of the [prior] scholastic [model] emerged: an effort [as it were] of reengagement between themes of spirituality and theology”; but “the starting point, now, is no longer [the category of] ‘experience,’ but the principles that govern dogmatic theology” (Mariani 2012, p. 869). The authors read by Horta swung between the aforementioned theological conceptions. Horta’s religious practices and interpretations may well have been marked by this perspective, present in his religious formation through the works of the German author Dominikus Schram (1722–1797) and the Italian, Giovanni Battista Scaramelli (1687–1752). Schram adapted a rather measured approach to the phenomena of spiritual life (apparitions, visions), emphasizing, instead, a good sacramental practice and the process of discernment that should be undertaken together with a properly prepared priest. Scaramelli, instead, defended the “extraordinary side of divine grace” (revelations and visions), analyzing them in a more detailed manner, and allying them with a pastoral approach of contemplation and prayer (Sbalchiero 2008, pp. 1549–1551; Scaramelli 1902). In Horta’s autobiography there are mentioned various cases understood by him as a revelation or vision coming from the realm of the sacred. Although not recurrent, such situations emerge as evidence of his religious formation and his appropriation of Schram’s mystical theology and, especially, of Scaramelli’s theology. Horta’s writings indicate that the religious culture of the Archdiocese of Mariana provided meaning to and sustained his supernatural interpretation of events. Don Benevides’ position and personal approach, shared by his successor, created a cultural space inside the ecclesiastical institution that supported the practices and supernatural readings of Horta described in his autobiography, as in other texts about his life. Although the cultural ambience was favorable to the acceptance of such interpretations in Mariana and in other regions of Minas Gerais (Martins 2008), many members of Church hierarchy did not express themselves explicitly on the subject. They tended to be cautious when confronting the question of cures, visions, and exorcisms attributed to José Silvério Horta. In Rome and among the representatives of the Holy See in Brazil, this suspicious attitude was even more severe. According to Ernesto de Martino, magical-religious practices only make sense and acquire their effectiveness within a society that accepts and legitimizes them (de Martino 2010, p. X). Understood from such a perspective as the Italian historian
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proposes, one must try to comprehend them within that precise historical-cultural system that enabled their development. Exorcisms such as the cures performed by Horta can be analyzed by this de Martinian perspective. It was not only the Church in Mariana that enabled the development of these religious actions. Horta’s positions were shaped by a cultural environment as well as by his subjective choices, as his actions were not so common (although minimally accepted by his superiors). There was also a social demand, a search for such religious practices that allowed for the continuation and appreciation of this way of conducting the priesthood. The Church did not have the capacity to impose all its doctrines without a resignification and revision of the believers. The Catholics of Mariana and Minas Gerais turned to José Silvério Horta with requests for prayer, healing, and exorcisms. There was a search for a ‘miracle’ and deliverance from what they interpreted as evil and coming from the Devil. In the words of Monsignor: Whenever I can, I do thanksgiving after Mass, but rarely, because the crowd that surrounds me from morning-time on is always asking for blessings for themselves and for others, as well as for religious objects, water, and seeds. I stay there, sometimes until noon, especially when I have to take care of the obsessed or those possessed by the devil, which is not uncommon. (Horta 1932, p. 28 (AEAM))
Such practices were an integral part of the pastoral profile assumed by Horta to deal with the daily demands (sicknesses, personal and psychological problems) of the local people, by means of what he understood as a divine intervention. Monsignor Horta used these moments of ‘supernatural intercession’ not only to help people, but also to strengthen the faith of believers in the Catholic religion: a strategy of empowerment, on behalf of the Church, to combat the other magical-healing practices coming from methods condemned by the Church, such as Spiritism (Costa 2002; Gomes Filho 2014). The ‘supernatural’ present in Horta’s trajectory had a twofold purpose: while performing practices inscribed in the Catholic liturgy, he was able to assume a pastoral attitude that was accepted and appreciated by the people, such as his ‘miraculous’ prayers, the blessing of objects, and rites of exorcism, seen by the population as a channel of healing for both body and soul. From such a perspective, it is possible to rethink the idea of orthodoxy within the ultramontane reform in the early twentieth century. The official message proposed by the Church did not completely contradict the practices of the believers of Minas Gerais. On the contrary, Horta strived to incorporate and rework what was already encompassed in the people’s way of believing – such as devotions and appreciation for ‘divine interventions’ – into the grid of doctrine and practices imparted by Church authority. In this process of cultural circulation, orthodoxy can be reconsidered and re-discussed not only through social demands but within itself. After all, how must one consider such supernatural interpretations? One must accept, or not accept, exorcisms as being a means of expelling a ‘metaphysical Devil’ capable of possessing the body of believers. In analyzing the cases of ‘possession’ witnessed by José Silvério Horta, we will come to understand that the ecclesiastical elite itself
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had difficulties in defining possible religious paths and solutions to the problem of ‘possession cases,’ even though already inscribed in the Catholic doctrine.
4.3 H idden Demons: Practices and Representations of Exorcism in the Discourses of Monsignor José Silvério Horta Since the nineteenth century, the Catholic Church had been silent about exorcism (Radoani and Gagliardi 1997, p. 43). Having already been stigmatized by a series of cases in the seventeenth century,3 during the eighteenth century the subject was treated with increasing caution and suspicion. Except for the prayer of liberation made by Leo XIII in 1886, exorcism was not a recurring theme in ecclesiastical discourses of the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. Rare cases can be found in Europe, but no explicit statement regarding the position of the institution and clergy connected to the Holy See. In the Archdiocese of Mariana, the situation unfolded itself in a different way, above all because of Monsignor José Silvério Horta’s performance as official exorcist, starting from the beginning of the twentieth century. We find little evidence about exorcists in the Archdiocese of Mariana between the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. Talk about exorcism, in the conjuncture that we are analyzing, was, of course, unusual. Our goal is not to verify the ‘reality’ of these actions, nor to study them from an anthropological perspective regarding exorcism as a rite. Our proposal on this topic is to understand how the practices and representations of exorcism appeared in Horta’s trajectory, either dialoguing or breaking with the ecclesiastical interpretations that circulated at that time. We propose to understand them in the context of the cultural demands and political uses that exorcism activities responded to and assumed, receiving a specific meaning for a particular community. The rite of exorcism practiced by Horta was linked to religious and political interests, but it was also sustained by his subjective choices and by the believers’ demands. In the following passage, taken from his autobiography, José Silvério reports the numerous exorcisms he witnessed, being called to attend to situations that were interpreted by both the people and himself as demonic interventions: Similar cases are numerous and individual possessions are a few hundred. I counted them up to 96 (ninety-six), then I did not bother myself anymore to count them because there have been cases of real possessions almost every day. As for the dubious cases, I counted three hundred many years ago. I will mention here only one of the most recent. It was in the village of Passagem, near Mariana. The possessed man was a poor and honest father of a large family. I was called by one of his sons and then I went there to visit him. I had just arrived at the man’s house when he gave a horrifying scream and wanted to jump through one of the windows, but he was stopped by his family. He was Portuguese, a robust man, See, for instance, the cases analyzed by de Certeau (2000).
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T. Pires who could read and write, but very badly. I made the exorcisms, but being almost night time, I promised to return the next day. In fact, I came back, and during the exorcisms, he was furious and said: ‘I am a man who can carry the weight of a donkey in my arms; however, I do not have the strength to break your bones – otherwise I would pulverize them.’ Then I exorcized him, and he said: ‘You will pay for this, because the Russian mule will give you a formidable fall.’ The mule was my animal, and it was calm as a lamb, so I ignored [his comment]. Finally, he told me: ‘You have won this battle,’ and added ‘equidem per fidem tuam.’ He was free from the devil. (Horta 1932, p. 19 (AEAM))
Exorcism was considered as a healing practice for physical and mental problems,4 or as a solution to the personal difficulties that the population could not solve and, for this reason, these problems were often understood as being the ‘Devil’s work.’ In the Minas Gerais society of the early twentieth century, with all its economic difficulties and the deficiency in technical and scientific resources for aid in the case of epidemics and other diseases, exorcism became a possible means of ‘cure’ and relief (Figueiredo 2008, pp. 52, 102). In a historical-anthropological5 perspective, exorcism can be considered a rite in which the ‘possessed’ person is constructed by a ritual (and linguistic) structure and through appropriations of the circulating cultural (including demonological) repertoire. In this sense, ‘demonic possession’ becomes an interpretation and a religious practice that produces the body of the possessed, a ‘convulsive body.’ The historical-anthropological approach proposed by Adelina Talamonti (2005), for example, tends to move away from the psychoanalytic explanation of possession,6 understanding it, rather, as a symbolic construction that produces and at the same time expels the evil that causes adversity. The solution of the problem – understood as having a diabolical origin – would be on a symbolic level and would reside in the belief that evil exists and can be expelled. This requires an agreement between those involved: the exorcist and the ‘possessed.’ In the texts on exorcism written by José Silvério Horta, it is possible to perceive both the process of naming and expelling evil, and the cultural representations of the ‘possessed’ contained in Catholic literature7 and in the social imaginary of the time: Having ascertained most certainly the presence of the devil, I then proceeded to the exorcisms and told him, the madman, to kneel. He answered me: ‘It is something I have never done [and] will not do: I will not prostrate myself.’ I commanded him to kneel; he did not answer me, but he jumped and fell. His companions, nine brothers, were startled, and said: ‘He has died.’ I then comforted them, saying: ‘He is not dead: it is the art of the devil’… I
4 ‘Demonic possession’ was in many cases associated with madness both from a medical standpoint and by the local population, as it appears in Horta’s writings. The monsignor himself even described a man as being ‘crazy’ before his exorcism. From ‘crazy’ he became ‘possessed.’ According to Horta, madness was associated with ‘diabolical intervention’ (Horta 1932 (AEAM)). 5 As Adelina Talamonti (2005) proposes in her work. 6 The psychoanalytic explanation interprets possession cases as hysteria or mental disorder, among other explanations (Centini 2008, pp. 108–109). 7 For example, in the Roman Ritual or in demonological treatises produced since the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, as de Certeau analyzed while studying the possessions at Loudun (de Certeau 2000).
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asked him what his name was. He replied: ‘Manuel.’ I asked the brothers what the patient’s name was, and they answered: ‘Manuel.’ I went back to asking what his name was, saying: ‘You’re lying, you’re lying, that is not your name. Tell me your name.’ ‘I am the devil’ [he replied]. I answered: ‘I know you are the devil, but you and each one of you has their own names. I ask you in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ.’ [And he:] ‘You’ve seen me before: I’m the dog.’ He gave a shout that reminded me of the dog that appeared to me in Santa Ana de Ferros, ten years before. From his house in Montevideo, his companions wrote to me saying that the madman was completely well, and thanked me. He was completely illiterate, but in that state, he had a very correct and even elegant language. I spoke to him calmly in Latin, but once I spoke to him in vernacular. He turned to me and said: ‘Have you forgotten your Latin?’ He corrected me sometimes in Latin, but very gently. I asked him once, ‘How many are you?’ He answered, ‘A thousand.’ I saw that this was not correct and I insisted upon the question, and he replied: ‘A hundred.’ ‘Adhuc semel mentiris, non est hic numerus tuorum; dic mihi verum numerum tuorum.’ He answered: ‘Nine.’ And indeed that was the true number because I repeated the exorcism nine times until [finally] the possessed man was freed. But he threatened me with folded hands and said: ‘If I could I would swallow you.’ Again, he said to me: ‘You drive me out of the house God has given me, but where will I go?’ ‘In locum ubi paraverit tibi Deo,’ I replied. ‘May I come in to your body?’ [he asked]. ‘Si id tibi Deus permisiverit, veni, ure, nihil mihi parcas.’ Then he fled, saying, ‘Who can enter the house of God without a license?’ What a horrible spectacle of a possessed man! And what a martyrdom for the exorcist! (Horta 1932, p. 17 (AEAM))
The exorcism rites described by José Silvério Horta follow a form very similar to the cases described elsewhere in history, such as the possessions at Loudun (seventeenth century) (de Certeau 2000). However, the uses, demands and political issues involved had changed significantly. It is possible to identify a long duration, in the course of history, of many elements present in the rite of exorcism. This can be explained by the fact that the liturgy that regulated exorcisms changed very little until the middle of the twentieth century, incorporating only new formulas and some extra documents, such as the prayer of liberation made by Pope Leo XIII. The Roman Ritual was still the central guide for conducting this activity and Monsignor Horta always carried it with him, even on other occasions: “Persuaded that there would be some doubt about mysteries of faith, or scruples about Christian virtues, I took the small stole and the vase of holy water that I always carry with me and I gave him the blessing of the Ritual pro infirmis” (Horta 1932, p. 26 (AEAM)). To carry out the exorcisms, Horta followed the liturgical principles promulgated by the Church, whether in solemn exorcisms or in cases of demonic infestation.8 The Roman Ritual was promulgated in 1614 and was a work of liturgical systematization of the Catholic Church.9 Part of the Ritual was dedicated to exorcisms, which were to be carried out only by authorized priests (Scafoglio and De Luna 8 Solemn exorcism is the rite in which the priest expels the ‘demon’ from the body of the ‘possessed.’ An infestation, instead, is a circumstance caused by demonic influence: physical attacks, movement of objects, etc. Both are described in the Roman Ritual of 1614 and in the Catholic literature on the subject (Radoani and Gagliardi 1997, p. 43). 9 Exorcism was considered a minor order after the Fourth Lateran Council (1215), lasting as an order until 1972.
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2003, p. 134). Until then, exorcism was practiced following different manuals produced throughout medieval and early modern history.10 The Ritual was modified only in 195211 and, in 1998, the new rite of exorcism, which regulates the practice of exorcism in contemporary times, was created. In addition to the Roman Ritual, another document became important for the regulation of exorcism in the early twentieth century: the Code of Canon Law (Codex Iuris Canonici) of 1917, which contains three clauses on the subject (1151–1153) (Bogetti 2011, p. 106), and, later, the CIC published in 1983, with just one clause.12 According to the Rituale Romanum of 1614, the priest should be ‘pious, prudent and righteous,’ acting not by his own virtue, but by divine will. He should be a mature and ‘respectful’ person. The requirements to be an exorcist are of a moral nature and they seek to exclude any risk of association between exorcists and magicians (Scafoglio and De Luna 2003, pp. 134–135) (this is a concern that appears in the writings of José Silvério Horta). In addition, the priest must be well instructed and capable of distinguishing and discerning the various cases that he encounters: he must not automatically consider all cases as ‘demonic possession,’ but rather be capable of evaluating the situation prudently, to see if it may be an episode of disease or melancholy. The symptoms that must be present in the troubled person, so that a priest might identify a case of ‘true possession,’ according to the Roman Ritual, are the following: speaking in unknown languages or understanding one who speaks them; knowledge of past or hidden things; manifestation of an energy superior to that normal for one’s age and physical condition (Bogetti 2011, p. 29). The Code of Canon Law of 1917 brought some additions to the practice of exorcism, whereas the part of the Ritual that deals with the subject in a systematic way was significantly modified only in 1998. The Canonical Code reinforced the stringency of the choice of the eventual exorcist as well as the issuing of a license for this activity. Exorcisms could be celebrated by authorized priests and were proposed for Catholics, non-Catholics and the excommunicated (Bogetti 2011, p. 26). The Codex Iuris Canonici of 1917 formulated a practice in use since the nineteenth century and previously suggested in the Roman Ritual of 1614. The Catholic Church’s attitude toward cases of possession and exorcism subsequently became ever more measured and dubious. Later documents (Code of Canon Law of 1983, and Roman Ritual of 1952/1998) confirmed a position that had already been desired by many members of the Church since the end of the nineteenth century: exorcisms must be unattended, that is without spectators, and be proceeded upon only in strictly proven cases
Manuals such as: Sacramentarium Gelasianum Vetus (V-VI); Missale Gallicanum Vetus (VIIVIII); Sacramentarium Gregorianum (IX-XI); Pontificale romano-germanicum (950); Malleus Maleficarum (1494); Liber Sacerdotalis (1523) (Bogetti 2011, pp. 97–105). 11 There was a modification of the text structure in 1752 and, in 1872, the addition of some formulas of blessing. But the main content was still the same (Omara 2008, p. 48).4 12 The rite of exorcism present in the Roman Ritual of 1952 was reformulated only in 1998, with the publication of De exorcismis supplicationibus quibusdam by John Paul II. The other rites did not necessarily receive changes after 1952 (Omara 2008). 10
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(Scafoglio and De Luna 2003, p. 141). In this following report by Horta, he demonstrates his sharing of these same intentions and rules of procedure; he wrote: In fact, the next morning they joined the Mother Church, but the madman was speaking extraordinarily: he was saying things that it was better not be heard and, as the Vicar was occupied with the administration of baptism, marriage, etc., I asked him [the Vicar] to lead the possessed one to the Rosary’s Church, a church which was more isolated from the center. The people, however, driven by curiosity, ran forward and filled the little church completely. When I arrived there, I told the crowd that I was only going to do an experiment, but that I could not do it in public because the Church forbade it, and so – although embarrassed – I had to ask the people to go outside. (Horta 1932, p. 17 (AEAM))
From the cases narrated by Horta in his autobiography and in his letters, we can understand that the exorcisms he undertook followed the guidelines of both the Rituale Romanum and the Code of Canon Law of 1917. Exorcism was an official practice of the Church, something that we can classify as belonging to orthodoxy. In the Archdiocese of Mariana, this ministry was exercised by Horta with a minimum of acceptance. It was not a common practice, but it was done with the approval of the religious leaders of the archdiocese. The Church’s official message was neither ‘static’ nor completely defined, at least not in the case of exorcisms in the early twentieth century. There were different Catholic interpretations on the subject; within orthodoxy itself, there were differences and conflicts. During our analysis, we noticed that the most cautious attitude was assumed by the members and representatives of the Holy See in Brazil and in Rome, as we can verify through the following case, documented in the Vatican Archive and discussed by historian Mabel Pereira (2009). In a letter dated 28 August 1922, the auxiliary bishop of Mariana, Don Antonio, made the following request to the Apostolic Nuncio, who was, at that time, Enrico Gasparri: Ex.mo. Rev. Mr. Apostolic Nuncio Please excuse me, your Excellency. I humbly beg His Holiness, Pope Pius XI, an Apostolic Blessing to a poor soul (in my care) who is in danger of losing its faith, because she [or he] has been vexed for many years by the devil, who terribly tortures her [or him], morally and physically, despite that I have already employed everything that the Church recommends in such cases. The case is treated under confidentiality, so I cannot declare the patient’s name. + Antonio, Auxiliary Bishop of Mariana, August 28, 1922 (ASV 1922)13
In response to this request, the representative of the Holy See in Brazil, the nuncio Gasparri, sent the following statement to the Vatican Secretary of State: I hesitated severely to accept Monsignor Assis’s wishes, but now that he came to Rio de Janeiro for the Eucharistic Congress, he placed much pressure and insistence upon me so that I might send such a request to the Holy Father. He also gave me explanations and information on the subject which, however, have contributed to increasing my suspicions that the case is a mystification. Monsignor Assis confirms what he says with the witness of Don Silvério [Gomes Pimenta], Archbishop of Mariana, who died about a month ago. But I Vatican Secret Archive (ASV). Fund: Secretary of State. Year 1922 – Rubric 82 – Fascicle 2 – Protocol 9781. p. 167.
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T. Pires knew Monsignor Silvério [Gomes Pimenta] very well, just as I know Mons. Assis: both are extremely credulous souls and are not just simple, but simplicites simplices; they are easily able to fall into a trick… But as the question is very suspicious and in its complexity is also largely indecent (doctors should intervene), sooner or later this may become part of public opinion, and it should not be known that His Holiness has intervened in any way. Consequently, in case His Holiness give the blessing requested by Mons. Assis, I ask that you might not communicate it neither to me, nor to Monsignor Assis, nor to anyone else. I’ll deal with Mons. Assis telling him that I sent, [but] not by official means, his request and that I do not know at the moment what was the result of it. (ASV 1922)14
The position of the nuncio Enrico Gasparri exemplifies a position prevailing among many members of the Catholic hierarchy of the early twentieth century. In the case of the exorcism reported by the auxiliary bishop of Mariana, we can ascertain that this practice had the consent of Archbishop Don Silvério Gomes Pimenta. The ecclesiastical hierarchy of the Archdiocese of Mariana was minimally in accordance with the rites of exorcism during the time in which Monsignor Horta acted. Doubts over the veracity of possession cases came from the representatives of the Holy See, not from the religious leaders of the archdiocese. The nuncio exposed his argument on the basis of medical-scientific explanations. The case should, in Gasparri’s view, be solved by doctors, not by an exorcist. It is interesting to note that this sort of medical-psychiatric approach, circulating at that time (Gomes Filho 2014, p. 237), was present within the ecclesiastical institution, and – in the end – reinforced and deepened the suspicious attitude of many priests. Medical-psychiatric knowledge was also included in official documents throughout the twentieth century, as well as in the reformulations of the Roman Ritual, which incorporate medical and psychoanalytical categories and language (Omara 2008). We did not find enough documents to carry out a more detailed analysis of other similar cases in the Archdiocese of Mariana. The silence on exorcisms and possessions – and especially on the viewpoint of the nuncio – provides us with evidence that supports our interpretation of the matter: Church authorities, especially the representatives of the Holy See, tended to maintain a cautious and distrustful attitude toward exorcism. On the other hand, we cannot affirm that the ecclesiastics of the Archdiocese of Mariana, including José Silvério Horta, promoted widespread acceptance and diffusion of exorcism among the people: there were conflicts and diverse interpretations of the matter even amongst the ecclesiastics themselves. General mistrust, among the clergy of the diocese, may have been less than that demonstrated by the nuncio Gasparri, but it was still present, especially because exorcisms frequently ran the risk of being associated by the people with Spiritism practices or with other religiosities. At a time of reformation and reaffirmation of Catholic identity, such an association would have been dangerous and a cause of disturbance to ecclesiastical equilibrium and orthodoxy. Monsignor Horta was able to construct a pastoral profile that aimed to strengthen the faith of believers and the power of the institution by integrating ecclesiastical
14
Fund: Secretary of State. Year 1922 – Rubric 82 - Fascicle 2 – Protocol 9781. p. 164–166.
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practices (exorcisms), social demands (search for cures and solutions to personal problems) and cultural representations present at the beginning of the twentieth century. Such a path was not traversed without various struggles and conflicts in interpretation, but it was sustained by the aforementioned elements. In analyzing the (auto)biographical documentation relating to Monsignor Horta, we observed that the demonizing interpretation that he provided and supported, of the ailments of various origins afflicting the people, was also shared among the population, inasmuch as people continued to turn to him as an exorcist. However, at many points of his narration, one notes that this sort of demonizing analysis made by the people was reinforced by José Silvério Horta. In many cases, people who came to him for help had not interpreted their problem as being ‘diabolic.’ Horta subsequently provided this meaning to those believers, who accepted it, not as merely passive recipients of such an interpretative process, but because they shared the same social imaginary and cultural representations. In the following report such a situation is delineated: In Mariana, there was a family in continuous disagreement although they were, as a fact, very good Catholics, both the husband and the woman. But there [seemed to be] no way of carrying forward their relationship and, for that reason, they caused me continual distress: firstly, the woman would come to expose her intimate dislikes of family-life, and then her husband would come to complain about his wife. I listened to them with great patience and I found no reason for such discord. One day, however, the woman appeared to me complaining about her husband; she had not yet said goodbye [to me] when her husband came to complain about his wife. I then said to him: ‘It was good to meet you here because your wife complains about you and you are wrong; you are wrong, but the greatest culprit [here] is the devil who disturbs you, and to prove this truth I will come to your house to bless you today. Wait for me until I have closed the office at 4 o’clock.’ In fact, I went there and I was expected by both husband and wife, accompanied by their daughters, already young girls. I made the blessing of the house and commanded the devil to leave the poor family in the holy peace of God. Oh! No one can imagine the immense quantity of demons that came out in the air with an infernal screaming. Their astonished neighbors came out into the street to ask me: ‘What is all this?’ No one could understand what they [the supposed demons] were talking about. I reassured the people by explaining to them what was going on in the house and that they were demons [making the noise]. After that, I was never bothered [again] by the poor family. (Horta 1932, p. 18 (AEAM))
Monsignor Horta helped the people who sought him out by choosing and implementing these and other strategies already analyzed in this text. Through such a sustainment, he indeed did not fail in strengthening the institution’s objectives and correcting those practices perceived as inappropriate by the Church. These elements of integration and dialogue between social demands and ecclesial practices were part of a project of reform and reinforcement that the archdiocese had already been undertaking since the mid-nineteenth century. However, José Silvério Horta also used his writings to circulate his pastoral stance, his message of faith and his battle against what he considered enemies of the Catholic faith – such as the current of Spiritualism – emerging in his time.
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4.4 T he ‘Superhuman’ Phenomena in Written Works: A Circularity of Beliefs At the end of the nineteenth century, many writings of the famous Spiritualist, Allan Kardec, were already circulating in Brazil, having been translated into Portuguese by journalists or others interested in the subject (Lewgoy 2008, p. 87; Silva 1993). In 1884 the Brazilian Spiritualist Federation (FEB) was created, index of the process of consolidation of these religious groups in several areas of the country. According to Bernardo Lewgoy (2008), Spiritualism soon became “a vanguard religious alternative whose charm was in its singular conjunction between experimental science and revealed faith, associated with an anticlericalism that appealed to an audience of enlightened opponents of the Empire” (Lewgoy 2008, p. 87). Despite the appreciation of the middle classes, Spiritualism – which later served as a sociocultural background for the formation of Umbanda15 – extended itself through various social classes, including the poorest, who saw in this religiosity a therapeutic pathway for the treatment of their diseases and personal problems. A significant literary and journalistic campaign against Spiritualism circulated in the early twentieth century, usually linked to the Catholic Church. Its authors were mainly priests, and these writings aimed to criticize and combat the growth of Spiritualism in Brazil, defined from the ecclesiastical standpoint as being ‘dangerous’ and ‘diabolical’ (Costa 2002). Criticisms against Spiritualism were already present in the newspapers of the Archdiocese of Mariana at the end of the nineteenth century and in the pastoral letters of Don Silvério Gomes Pimenta (AEAM 190216; Oliveira 2013, p. 29). One of the first criticisms, on behalf of the Church, was made in the pastoral letter of 1867, written by D. Manuel Joaquim Silveira, Archbishop of Bahia, in response to the book Spiritual Philosophy by Luiz Teles de Menezes (1828–1893).17 Horta supported and reinforced this institutional criticism, promoting it through his letters and his communication with the population. His demonizing interpretation of events exemplified and confirmed the position of hostility assumed by the Catholic Church against Spiritism since the mid-nineteenth century. Exorcism practices and representations were also used by Horta as a way of curbing the advances of other religions and combating the non-Catholic doctrines that circulated in the Archdiocese of Mariana and in Brazil. In many of his correspondences, as well as in his autobiography, he associated diabolical action with involvement in mediumistic groups: “It would be an intricate and tedious task to mention all the cases of diabolism that I have witnessed. One thing I have noticed: many of these cases were determined by the practice of spiritism” (Horta 1932, Formed in the 1920s and 1930s, with appropriations of Kardecist Spiritualism and African religiosities, its initial followers were of a low level of income and education (Lewgoy 2008, p. 87). 16 Journal Boletim Eclesiástico da Arquidiocese de Mariana (1902, p. 241). Cabinet 2, Shelf 3. 17 De Menezes was a primary teacher, writer and journalist from Bahia, considered one of the pioneers of Spiritism in Brazil (Buarque and Pires 2012, pp. 149, 221). 15
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p. 19 (AEAM)). In a letter to Vicar Guilhermino, dated 5 April 1930, Horta made the following declaration: …the devil seeks to deceive souls and for doing this he is a most skilled master, as he himself (the devil) told me a few years ago while I exorcized a certain possessed, in the presence of many people in a sick and strange family. On that occasion, he was Luciferus, the only spirit that deceived men. But that bald man (referring to me) the devil could not deceive, because he always and everywhere persecuted him. That poor sick man [the possessed one], a good head of a large family – simple and rustic people – became possessed by the devil because of spiritism. Almost illiterate – nonetheless – he spoke with great elegance and precision the Latin tongue and other human languages… (Horta 1939, pp. 15–16)
The cases of exorcisms, cures and ‘miracles’ attributed to Horta were represented in the (auto)biographical writings that emerged immediately after the priest’s death, whereas his biography and the compilation of his letters and sermons were later ordered and classified by his nephew, Francisco Horta (Horta 1934; Horta 1939). Many events narrated by José Silvério Horta in his autobiography were reported in such memorialist works (the biography and compilation of Horta’s writings) with only a reasonable degree of correspondence, and were thus not entirely faithful to historical truth. In the autobiography, the various topics and episodes narrated were developed with more details and without the filter of several restrictions, which were imposed later in the memorialist works. Besides living with his uncle, Francisco Horta probably had access to the autobiographical manuscript of Monsignor José Silvério. Thus, as we have already mentioned, the autobiography of Horta circulated in an indirect way. The acceptance of Monsignor Horta’s practices as ‘superhuman’ created some conflicts of interpretation. His autobiography, in which most of the events of that order were described, was never published. The excesses of this ‘superhuman attitude’ may have been the main hindrance to the publication of his autobiographical manuscript, although, as mentioned previously, some ecclesiastics of his day were in agreement with his doings and interpretations. The circulation of his writings came about mainly with the later memorialist works. The cases of exorcism narrated by Horta and his memorialists also transcended the ecclesiastical narrative field, as they were mentioned in some literary works, but without the combative tone toward Spiritism. In the book Mariana, published for the first time in 1932 and reprinted in 1966, Augusto de Lima Júnior18 wrote a tale of what took place in the city of Mariana between the period of the episcopate of Don Silvério Gomes Pimenta (1896–1922) and that of Don Helvécio Gomes de Oliveira (1922–1960). The author was still alive during the bishopric of Don Helvécio, and was able to participate at the commemorations of the bishop in the Augusto de Lima Júnior was born in Leopoldina, on 13 April 1889. During his childhood he lived in Ouro Preto, capital of the province at that time. He died in Belo Horizonte, in 1970. Augusto de Lima Júnior wrote articles for several newspapers, collaborating with various Carioca journals (such as A Gazeta de Notícias, A Noite, Jornal do Brasil, Jornal do Comércio, Correio da Manhã). He also maintained an active presence in the press of his state, founding the newspaper O Diário da Manhã (1927), which, in the hands of other owners, became the O Estado de Minas (Buarque and Pires 2012, p. 221).
18
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Seminary of the city. “This work reveals the profile of its [the diocese’s] clergy, of its believers and of its great administrative moments and, at the same time, confirms the tensions and conflicts that developed themselves during his episcopal government” (Pereira 2009, p. 93). In his work, Lima Júnior mixed documented traces of the history of the archdiocese with fictional elements. The names of the characters refer to members of Mariana’s clergy. D. Helvécio was named ‘D. Salesius’19 and Monsignor Horta was called ‘Monsignor Jardim.’20 One of the chapters of the book, entitled “A Case of Satanism,” reports a case of ‘diabolical possession’ and exorcism that took place in Passagem, a neighborhood in the city of Mariana (a similar situation was described by Monsignor Horta in his autobiography). The case experienced by the monsignor must have been known at the time and Augusto de Lima Júnior, in metaphorical language, described it in a fairly accurate way (although with some ironic moments), if we compare it with the writings of Horta and with the ecclesiastical guidelines of the rite of exorcism: Manoel João, the owner of the mine, a good and quiet man, [suddenly] became furious three days ago. He struck the woman [his wife] with a wooden stake and did not kill his son [only] because the people rushed to rescue him. The doctor went to see him: he gave him several injections, he called another doctor to help, but the two of them did not attain any [satisfactory results]. Manoel João, [who] was not sleeping, was bound, self-inflicted wounds and spoke foreign languages from time to time. Sometimes, when we said in a room, near where Manoel was, that we wanted to call Father Zeca to bless him, Manoel João, without hearing our conversation, said: ‘Father Zeca, come here if you can! I’ll point out all of your mistakes.’ Father Zeca came to know of this and did not want to see him… (Lima Júnior 1966, p. 93)
Continuing the narration of the exorcism – describing a scene filled with tension and struggle, together with indirect criticism of the positions of some priests – Lima Júnior presented the way Horta supposedly faced the ‘Devil,’ following what was prescribed by the Church in the Rituale Romanum: ‘Infamous, naughty and stupid priest! Who sent you here to persecute me, filthy! Go away now, or I’ll reveal your secrets!’ They all stared astonished at Monsignor, who, with the greatest tranquility in the world, opened the suitcase in Eugenio’s hands, and, taking the surplice, the stole, and the Ritual from it, he dressed himself there. He traced, over the possessed, a cross with his hand and quietly began to read the prayers of the Ritual: ‘…ut fias creatura exorcisata ad effugandam omnem potestatem inimici, et ipsum inimicum erradicare…’ (Lima Júnior 1966, pp. 96–97)
4.5 Conclusion The events understood by Monsignor Horta and by the population as belonging to the supernatural, such as exorcisms, were legitimized in the Archdiocese of Mariana not only by social demands or ecclesiastical actions: the letters and narratives by 19 20
This was in reference to the Salesian order to which D. Helvécio belonged. ‘Horta’ and ‘Jardim’ are synonymous in Portuguese, meaning ‘garden.’
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and about Horta, as well as other literary publications, helped to construct an atmosphere in which such practices became diffused, legitimate and even effective. These writings should not be regarded as depictions of what actually happened, but rather as elements drawn from or constructed on the basis of representations already circulating in Minas Gerais society during the early twentieth century. The narratives that emerged at the time of and after José Silvério Horta’s death provided an elaboration, an understanding and a circulation of faith-meaning: a faith that aimed to respond to the requests of the believers, strengthen the power of the institution, reform certain conduct, and combat the advance of groups considered by the Church as opponents and as harmful to society. In Horta’s writings, the ‘superhuman’ elements validated and justified a reaffirmation of ecclesiastical power. After all, the Catholic Church still ‘healed,’ still performed ‘miracles’ and it was still casting out the ‘Devil.’ In an ecclesial interpretation, the Church provided an effective pathway and the course that should be followed by priests and believers in solving the diverse problems of human life. Monsignor Horta, both in the formation of his approach and in his subjective choices, did not cease to dialogue with the ecclesiastical rules existing in the Archdiocese of Mariana and in the formulations of the Holy See. However, he was inspired by views that often caused estrangement with many members of the ecclesiastical hierarchy. The practices considered by him as ‘superhuman’ (miracles, cures, exorcisms) are an example. Although exorcisms were part of and were regulated by official liturgy, they were evaluated very cautiously by the representatives of the Holy See in Brazil as well as in Rome. Because of the risk of being associated with the other religiosities present in the society of Minas Gerais, such as Spiritism, the ‘supernatural interpretation’ – among many members of the Church hierarchy – was permeated by a sense of distrust and by a restrained stance. In the Archdiocese of Mariana, pastoral conduct such as that exhibited in Horta’s ‘trajectory’ was generally accepted, even though there were criticisms and doubts about the ‘supernatural’ attitudes instilled in and by many of such practices. Our goal was not to evaluate their validity, but rather to demonstrate how the ‘supernatural’ question was used as a way of spreading and strengthening the faith, and likewise as an instrument for combating other religions. Through his religious practices, especially those designated as ‘superhuman,’ Horta assumed a pastoral attitude that incorporated the social and personal demands of the population, without excluding the liturgical and doctrinal elements of the Church. His pastoral attitude was also tactical in strengthening the faith of the people and consolidating and offering a model of Catholicism and Catholic faith. With his comparatively flexible conduct – although still a debtor to his rigorous Tridentine formation – Horta tried to shepherd the population by attending to their needs, including those ecclesiastical demands dictated by his superiors. Horta did not break with the institution but, rather, proposed alternative ways of exercising the clerical métier.
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References Monsignor Horta’s writings and other historical documents Archives of the Archdiocese of Mariana (AEAM). (1902). Journal Boletim Eclesiástico da Arquidiocese de Mariana (1902). Cabinet 2, Shelf 3. Archives of the Archdiocese of Mariana (AEAM). (1932). Horta, Mons. José Silvério. Autobiographical manuscript. Horta, F. (1934). Monsenhor Horta: esboço biográfico. Oficinas Gráficas Castelo: São João del Rei. Horta, J. S. (1939). Cartas, sermões, práticas e outros escritos (Compilados por Francisco Horta). Belo Horizonte: Imprensa Oficial do Estado de Minas. Vatican Secret Archive (ASV). (1922). Fund: Secretary of State. Year 1922 – Rubric 82 - Fascicle 2 – Protocol 9781. p. 164–166.
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blog.br/wp-content/arquivos/2008/02/assombracoes-eprodigios-sobrenaturais-em-diamantinana-virada-do-seculo-xix-para-o-seculo-xx.pdf. Muchembled, R. (2001). Uma história do diabo: séculos XII-XX. Rio de Janeiro: Bom Texto. Oliveira, N. R. (2013). Entre a pátria do céu e a pátria terrestre: D. Silvério Gomes Pimenta e a cristianização da República brasileira (1890-1922). Thesis (Master in History). Belo Horizonte: UFMG/FFCH. Omara, F. (2008). Exorcism in church law: Charism, ministry and canonical regulation (Thesis (Doctorate in Canon Law)). Roma: Pontificia Università Gregoriana. Pereira, M. S. (2009). História, Literatura e demônios. SAECULUM – Revista de História (20). João Pessoa, jan/jun. Radoani, S., & Gagliardi, G. (1997). Vattene, o satana. L’esorcismo: rito, psichiatria e mistero. Bologna: EDB. Santirocchi, I. D. (2010). Uma questão de revisão de conceitos: Romanização – Ultramontanismo – Reforma. Temporalidades, 2(2), ago/dez. Sbalchiero, P. (Ed.). (2008). Dizionario dei miracoli e dello straordinario cristiano. Bologna: Edizioni Dehoniane. Scafoglio, D., & de Luna, S. (2003). La possessione diabolica. Roma: Avagliano Editore. Scaramelli, J. B. (1902). Directorium asceticum or guide to the spiritual life, vols. 1–4. Paternoster Row, London: R. & T. Washbourne; New York, Cincinnati and Chicago: Benziger Bros. Silva, E. M. (1993). Vida e morte: o homem no labirinto da eternidade (Thesis (Doctorate in History)). Campinas: Unicamp/IFCH. Talamonti, A. (2005). La carne convulsiva: etnografia dell’esorcismo. Napoli: Liguori. von Arx, J., & Washington, S. J. (Eds.). (1998). Varieties of Ultramontanism. Washington: The Catholic University of America Press.
Part II
Case Studies in Late Modernity
Chapter 5
The Devil Returns. Practices of Catholic Exorcism in Argentina Vernica Gimnez Bliveau Abstract Exorcism has been a well-known practice since the beginnings of Christianity. It entails facing the presence of a hostile spirit in the body of the faithful, with the intervention of a specialist whose objective is to chase out the intruding spirit. In Catholic contexts, the priest has the monopoly on this ritual, a practice considered spiritually and physically risky for the executer. As a consequence, the exorcist is often supported by a group. Seen as a legitimate demand by some Church members, and an expression of psychiatric illness by others, the practice of exorcism has grown. I present here the results of a comparative ethnographic and qualitative research undertaken in Argentina between 2013 and 2018. I have worked with groups developed by Catholic priests who carry out these rituals every week as an answer to an increasing number of requests by the faithful. This chapter analyzes the involvement of various agents: possessed people, priests, exorcist’s assistants, relatives of the possessed, and psychiatrists. Possession and the subsequent ritual of exorcism place the body at the center of particular manipulations, spawning also practices related to body regulation. Participants under tand both possession and expulsion as related to healing and liberation processes, and in line with the quest for well-being found in the Charismatic Catholic spirituality. Keywords Exorcism · Catholicism · Healing rituals · Revivalist movements · Argentine
V. Gimnez Bliveau (*) Ceil-CONICET, University of Buenos Aires, Buenos Aires, Argentina e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 G. Giordan, A. Possamai (eds.), The Social Scientific Study of Exorcism in Christianity, Popular Culture, Religion and Society. A Social-Scientific Approach 3, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-43173-0_5
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5.1 Introduction Catholic bishops in Argentina usually agree on the view about exorcism of one of the prelates of the Archdiocese of Buenos Aires: “We have had no cases of possession for 30 years.”1 However, there is an increased presence, among Catholics and Christians, of discourses about the Devil, how he acts on the faithful, and the ways to fight him. There is a corresponding increase in the demand for rituals to deal with unspecific discomforts which cannot be solved by the biomedical or psychological approaches. Those afflicted thus turn to priests, nuns and Catholic laypersons, calling upon them to address complex problems in which psychological and psychiatric elements are combined with social and spiritual ones. This chapter aims to analyze the rising demand for exorcism in Argentina: it discusses the representations of evil by different Church agents, the emergence of services and actors to help those who feel affected by it, and the processes set in motion to fight against it. It further reflects upon the context of this growing demand: a Catholicism which gives pre-eminence to people and their emotions, in dialogue with discourses and processes that point out the limitations of biomedicine in treating these discomforts. This chapter is based on ethnographic research that I conducted among Catholics in Argentina between 2013 and 2018. I followed exorcist priests, interviewed bishops, parish priests and affected people, and undertook ethnographic studies of groups formed to help believers having problems with the Devil.2 The contemporary study of exorcism in Catholicism focuses on describing exorcists’ rituals and practices and how they relate to the context and society which has produced them. According to Giordan and Possamai (2016), the greater public visibility of exorcism-related topics is due to the increased number of ‘possessionists,’ that is, those who claim to believe in possession and are willing to consult an exorcist. Thomas Csordas (2005, 2012) works on the exorcism-healing process in the context of the Catholic Charismatic Renewal movement. His research delves into a field of practices in which the religious and the medical intersect, and in which the body is afforded a prominent place. Our own research (Giménez Béliveau 2003, 2017) reveals that actors themselves interpret their discomfort in terms of a broadened concept of health: they do not attribute their ailments exclusively to a physical and psychological source, but also recognize a spiritual one, and it is in this context that they consult exorcists (Amiotte-Suchet 2016). This link between Interview with the Auxiliary Bishop of Buenos Aires, 27 September 2016. From December 2013, I interviewed in Argentina six exorcist priests, eight parish priests, two bishops and over 15 members of exorcists’ assistants groups (other interviews were conducted in Chile, Dominican Republic, and France, but they are beyond the geographical scope of this chapter). I attended healing Masses, training seminars about spiritual deliverance, healing and intergenerational healing, laying on of hands sessions, prayer and worship groups, and I interviewed people affected. I also analyzed the texts used in the training seminars, as well as the leaflets, newsletters and written texts handed out in patient interviews. 1 2
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therapeutics and exorcism rituals is highlighted in both contemporary studies (Csordas 2005; Giménez Béliveau and Fernández 2018; Lanternari 1988, 1994; Talamonti 2005, 2008; Uribe 2009) and historical ones (de Certeau 2005; Messana 2007). In Latin America, exorcism studies have developed in Pentecostal rather than in Catholic environments, probably because it was precisely Pentecostal Evangelicals who started to include practices of exorcism in their rituals (Oro et al. 2003; Silveira Campos 2007). These studies focus on the Universal Church of the Kingdom of God (IURD – its acronym in Spanish), a Pentecostal Church that originated in Brazil and promptly became widespread across the world. In IURD rituals, exorcisms play a key role (Jungblut 2005; Mariz 1997; Ribeiro 2005; Tadvald 2005, 2012). According to studies that consider the Catholic environment, exorcism is primarily associated with healing rituals. The strong link between discourses about evil and about emotional Catholic worship has also been investigated by Uribe (2009) and Ospina Martínez (2006) in Colombia, by Steil (2006) in Brazil and by Giménez Béliveau (2017; Giménez Béliveau and Fernández 2018) in Argentina. Historical studies about possession, exorcism and witchcraft in the West have focused on trying to understand the relationship between these rather marginal phenomena and the dynamics of society. This is the case of the analysis by de Certeau (2005) of the Loudun possession in the seventeenth century: there, the demonic crisis made it possible to assign meaning to the plague. Along the same lines, research by Ginzburg (1966, 1989) shows how the fears of fifteenth century Italian Alps society were verbally expressed through the concept of the Sabbath and accusations of witchcraft. Historical and contemporary approaches to the phenomenon of exorcism, both those focusing on the Catholic and those focusing on the Pentecostal field, follow the thread that links a social manifestation to certain characteristics of society. This chapter intends to provide a sociological perspective from which to rethink the phenomenon of evil, its definition, and the ritual responses implemented by the Catholic Church in Argentina.
5.2 The Devil in Society and the Church’s Perspective As demonstrated by the very publication of this book, the growing interest in the ritual of exorcism is not confined to a single geographical area: it has increased in different countries in the West and Latin America, especially since 2014, when the Vatican officially recognized the International Association of Exorcists. The press in several countries has reflected this growth by publishing stories about the rise of this practice, as well as interviews with exorcists. In Argentine society, the evil–exorcism dyad manifests in different ways. The Universal Church of the Kingdom of God broadcasts healing and exorcism rituals live every night on television. On the Internet, among endless pages of
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demon-eviction rituals (Ospina Martínez 2006), it is easy to find videos of exorcisms carried out by a Lutheran pastor on the periphery of Buenos Aires. In 2016, this pastor created a school of exorcists for a broad public. The Argentine written press has published several interviews with priest Carlos A. Mancuso, appointed exorcist of the La Plata Archdiocese.3 In addition, the international entertainment industry produces mass consumption films, series and books, targeted mainly at a young audience, which are widespread in Argentina: works such as The Exorcist (1973), The Exorcism of Emily Rose (2005), The Rite (2011), and the series The Exorcist (2016) stir a renewed interest in the topic and give rise to the representations of evil, demon-expelling rituals, and actions by specialists which are ubiquitous in the field (Ospina Martínez 2006). Ideas about how to fight the Devil also circulate in Argentina’s public media. These are rooted in the Christian tradition but combined with representations originating from other religious traditions (especially African- American) and the world of mass culture. Films and series provide long-lasting images that take root in collective memory and enable content to circulate in domains beyond the entertainment. Such content strongly shapes personal experiences related to discomfort or strange physical or spiritual experiences which do not fit with the current interpretations about health and illness. Father E., the appointed exorcist of a diocese on the periphery of Buenos Aires, was consulted by another priest about what the latter considered to be a case of possession, and was asked to perform an exorcism. The exorcist asked the priest about the symptoms. After the priest described them, the exorcist replied: “The symptoms you describe are quite clear; they are taken from the film The Exorcist.” Puzzled, the priest asked the exorcist if there were others. The exorcist replied that there were, but that he would not reveal them, or otherwise the priest would find them among his churchgoers.4 The story told by the exorcist, who acknowledges treating most cases with scepticism and who usually recommends a psychiatric hospital rather than a ritual, shows, on the one hand, that notions about symptoms and rituals are widespread among priests and believers, and on the other, that interpretations are aligned with the contents of mass culture that have become an essential point of reference in structuring and sustaining images and interpretations of the Devil and exorcism. The top hierarchy of the Catholic Church is usually sceptical of the idea of an increase in the number of possessions and of demonic action. The existence of possession is not denied, but it is considered that it should instead be interpreted as a psychiatric, psychological and a social problem. It is acknowledged, however, that the demand for exorcism has increased. When I asked Father M., bishop of one of the provinces in the north of Argentina, if he had appointed an exorcist, he was 3 Interviews include: La Capital, Mar del Plata, 9 August 2009, ‘Some People are Possessed because they are Victims of Magic or have been Put under a Spell’; Perfil, Buenos Aires, 10 November 2012, ‘Confessions by Carlos Alberto Mancuso, “the exorcist priest” of La Plata’; La Capital, Rosario, 12 October 2012, “I Spoke with the Devil and he Once Told me that he Surrendered,” among others. 4 Interview with Father E., appointed exorcist, 14 March 2017.
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visibly surprised and rather annoyed. “I have appointed no exorcist; there is still one, an old man, appointed by the previous bishop.” And after stating that his main concern was the contamination caused in the region by an international mining company, he said, as if talking to himself: “Curiously, it is a growing demand. We had a long discussion about this in the last diocesan synod.”5 Although bishops accept – and often sustain – deliverance, healing, and exorcism services in their dioceses, the topic is not part of the prelates’ concerns, neither individually nor as a body. Few dioceses in Argentina have a permanently appointed exorcist: when an episode that warrants a ritual intervention is reported, the bishop authorizes the ritual for that particular case. The technical denomination of the priest appointed is an ‘ad casum exorcist’. While most bishops have a restricted perspective about the practice of exorcism, this does not seem to be the case among priests. Those in charge of parishes, especially, one of whose main tasks is to help the members of their community, report being frequently consulted about this topic. Requests such as these are frequent: “I have something inside me, I have a demon”; “Please, exorcize my house”; “Somebody put me under a spell”; “My son has a spiritual problem.”6 Even those priests who believe the least in the Devil’s direct action recognize that there is a growing demand, and act according to a set of principles which varies depending on the case: they may tell people to go to the hospital when they recognize a medical disease, they may bless houses, take believers to see an exorcist whom they know, or pray with those who suffer and with their relatives. As a result of the influence of the Charismatics on Catholicism, revivalist discourses and practices (Viotti 2017) have become widespread in several domains of the Church. However, even priests who do not identify with that emotional movement and prefer other forms of Catholic commitment linked more to social work and helping the poor (Giménez Béliveau 2016; Mallimaci 1995) recount stories of extraordinary events in which they came into contact with the Devil. Such stories often start with the words: “The truth is I don’t believe in these things, but I saw this with my own eyes, nobody told me about it.”7
Interview with Father M., bishop, 5 December 2014. These are problems reported by the diocesan priests interviewed: Father F., Buenos Aires, 13 April, 2015; Father T., San Isidro, 16 September 2016; and Father P., Buenos Aires, 22 June 2018. 7 Among others, interview with Father P., Buenos Aires, 22 June 2018;he reported that he accompanied a possessed believer, saw sacred objects flying, and felt that his movements were inhibited by invisible forces. 5 6
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5.3 T he Devil and Bodies in Focus: The Catholic Charismatic Renewal and Other Revivalist Groups There is no doubt that the discourse about the Devil, and his agents circulates freely and insistently in Charismatic Masses, celebrations, workshops, meetings, and prayer groups. At the heart of the Catholic Charismatic Renewal movement are the Holy Spirit and His actions among the faithful, bestowing His grace and gifts. There is a strong involvement of the body in ritual practices, praying, and gatherings in faith communities (Csordas 2012; Giménez Béliveau 2016; Ospina Martínez 2007). The movement has grown exponentially not only in Argentina but in other Latin American countries as well (Soneira 2001). How is evil depicted in Charismatic discourses? How does it manifest itself in the practices of the groups related to deliverance and exorcism? Several texts authored by Charismatics and commonly used by revivalist groups in Argentina acknowledge that attacks from the Devil can take various forms, different routes, and lead to multiple actions. The action of the Devil affects individuals in a variety of ways, usually classified into everyday, ‘ordinary’ interventions, and ‘extraordinary’ ones; the latter being less frequent and more spectacular. Demons can affect people’s lives, causing ills that impact on them emotionally (e.g. “depression, pathologic anxiety, furious anger, passivity which does not react to anything”) and physically (e.g. “insomnia, night terror, migraine, gastritis, colitis”), and that provoke other indeterminate ills such as “mental confusion, difficulty in concentrating, crassness, weakness of will, laziness, chronic exhaustion, apathy” (Cruzábal 2005, p. 44). According to the literature and the priests consulted, possession, the most spectacular action of the Devil on the body, is extremely rare.8 Concrete actions by the Devil on people can be found on a spectrum from temptation only to full possession (Dezzi 2003). Between these extremes, there is also oppression (a “special and long lasting anxiety which hinders spiritual growth”), abuse (“discomfort that comes from an external source”), infestation of animals or spaces which causes “inexplicable damage,” and obsession, which causes “compulsive ideas” and affects the “imagination or reason” (Manual de Convivencias con San Pablo 2011, p. 47). Temptation is considered “the Devil’s task, his art, his work, and it is on this work that the continuity of hell depends” (Dezzi 2004, p. 37). The Devil tempts humans in order to lead them astray from the path of God, and the best that humans can do is to resist temptation by finding support in prayer. Possession occurs when the Devil invades a person’s body, “acts in that person and treats them as if he owned them, imposing a despotic rule” (Dezzi 2004, p. 44). Stories also mention mixed cases of oppression and possession. The idea that evil attacks can have different degrees of intensity – from the most frequent and less harmful to the least frequent and more destructive – makes it 8 Interviews with Father C., Father A., Father I., Father L. and Father E. Statements of the same kind have been gathered among exorcists in France, Chile and Dominican Republic.
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possible to organize ways of fighting against it. On the one hand, as analyzed by Ospina Martínez (2006), the Evil One is everywhere and ‘deregulated’, and in order to prevent his attacks, believers cannot afford to ‘lower their guard’; on the other hand, evil actions are specific and can be dealt with through specific therapeutic rituals which are not as extreme as exorcism. Far from being considered exclusively in spiritual terms, evil has a thick materiality: it is transmitted through objects and it affects bodies, leaving marks and introducing substances and things which end up being expelled later in the healing and deliverance rituals. Two aspects of this materiality are of particular interest: the role of objects, and the expressions in the body. Maledictions and bad influences can circulate through concrete objects. Such ‘cursed items’9 carry the intentions of those human beings who wish evil on others, helped by demons, and they are targeted at specific people (although they can affect an entire family), animals and places. Dolls made with parts of the cursed person’s body, needles, red ribbons, and pieces of paper with curses are objects that exorcists report finding in their work. However, there are other objects that channel demons to people, even when that was not the intended purpose: this is the case with games such as the Ouija board, Charlie Charlie, the spirit of the glass challenge, and violent videogames. These objects are usually referred to as being related to a particular demographic, that is, young people and adolescents, who inadvertently become prey to the Devil. Such objects, which both carry and transmit evil, have the power to radiate the evil contained in them. This is why they are to be sought in specific places, close to the people affected. Father C. once found a ceramic doll buried under a lemon tree in the garden of an affected person (he showed me a picture of it that he keeps on his iPad, so that I could verify the existence of the curse); on another occasion, he found threads of red wool in the mattress of a married couple who were unable to have intercourse. The exorcist claims that “the cursed object acts as a caller, the person comes into contact with that object, is affected, and that’s when that person could start to suffer some kind of visible disorder.” Studies on witchcraft (Adler 2007; Fernández Juárez 2011) highlight the key role of objects in transmitting discomfort to the body of the cursed person. Evil manifests itself in people’s bodies in different ways, becoming apparent to the exorcists’ expert eyes. The source of physical ills is always subject to divergent interpretations: they either have a ‘natural’ cause and must therefore be medically treated, or they are embodiments of a supernatural origin (Cruzábal 2005). The diagnosis of exorcists is characterized by this tension, which is typically resolved in one of three ways: the disease is recognized and the patient is referred to a medical institution; the origin is assumed to be a combination of medical causes and demonic influences, and the patient is referred to the biomedical system while ritual therapies are also provided; or evil actions are identified and ritual therapy (which, as will be seen later, has different degrees) is applied.
Interview with Father C., San Isidro, province of Buenos Aires, 13 February 2015.
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Father C. tells the story of a patient who went to see him covered with marks on his skin: “From his neck up to his ears, cheeks, head, scalp, he had some sort of what seemed to be endless micro tattoos which were impossible to remove; they were on the skin, very weird signs.” Father B. and one of his assistants talk of bodies rising off the ground and walking on walls.10 Ospina Martinez (2015) found, in Colombia, a case of blue marks resembling contusions or bruises. An affected woman being treated by Father C. mentions pressure in her chest and genitals during the night, which she attributed to evil spirits having sex with her.11 These marks can last for some time or suddenly appear at the point of diagnosis or discernment. Nausea, changes of body temperature, dilation of pupils, difficulty in focusing one’s eyes, sudden aggressive movements, and imitation of animal movements are interpreted as evidence of an evil presence that has to be fought (Giménez Béliveau 2017). Evil affects also the priests’ body but in different ways. When Father L. faces an evil entity, he feels “like a burden on [his]shoulders, a pressure in [his] head, which squeezes [him] and feels like pincers.”12 When Father C. ends his two-and-a-halfhour session of laying-on of hands, he is exhausted; his deacons and assistants surround him, stretch out their hands as well and offer praise over him, to set him free from evil influences.13 Father B. is used to walk around the neighborhoods of his parish, however before he returned home after a ritual, one of his assistants would call the others to join in a Charismatic prayer over him: “Where have you been, father? You’re all infested,”14 they tell him, perceiving evil influences that besieged the priest’s body.
5.4 The Agents of Evil Exorcists, their assistants, and their patients, the ‘possessionists’ (Giordan and Possamai 2016), identify several agents who do the Devil’s work. These are both non-human (e.g. the Devil and other fallen angels) and human agents. The latter can be members of ‘satanic groups,’ religious experts (e.g. witches, sorcerers, spiritists, reiki masters), or people who, by envy of, or anger towards, someone they have a personal relationship with, call on an occult specialist to do ill to him or her. The leader of the agents of evil is Satan himself, the Devil of the Christian tradition. In the literature that circulates among exorcists (Cruzábal 2005; Dezzi 2004; among others) and in priests’ stories, Satan is viewed as an individual having agency, personality and will; his actions are described by quoting biblical sources
Interview with Father B. and one of his assistants, Quilmes, province of Buenos Aires, 19 November 2014. 11 Interview with Dora, San Isidro, May 202,015. 12 Interview with Father L., Ezpeleta, province of Buenos Aires, 27 February 2018. 13 Fieldnotes, San Isidro, April to November 2015. 14 Fieldnotes, February to April 2013; interview with Father B., 28 January 2013. 10
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and contemporary stories. Gifted with intelligence and a master of deception, he works “always under the guise of the good, seducing, causing confusion, to later exert some kind of influence on a person.”15 Even Satan’s henchmen are depicted as identifiable. Like other priests, Father C. conceives the supernatural world of evil as hierarchically organized: “Just as there is a hierarchy of angels, there is a hierarchy of the angels of evil; on top of all is Satan, Beelzebub, and there is an entire series of demons, evil spirits, many of them with names from the Bible ….”16 Among the ‘evil spirits’ there are also the spirits of dead people who spent their lives doing evil and who “wander through space” (Dezzi 2004, pp. 41, 47). In emic terms, they are called ‘legions’ and they act through human servants.17 Interestingly, the category of ‘demons’ operates in the field in an indeterminate way: they are not just the demons named in the Bible, but a plurality of agents of evil that, as stated by Jungblut in relation to the representations of demons in Brazilian neo-Pentecostalism, “are not Evil, but specialized promoters of Evil” (Jungblut 2005, p. 132). Human servants are assigned to different, sometimes overlapping classifications. “Satanic cults,” “Church of evil,” sorcerers, and Umbanda priests are identified as “Satan’s employees” (Dezzi 2003, p. 20), although they are thought of as having different roles and modes of organization that sometimes coincide. In a structure where the forces of evil mirror the forces of good, priests refer to the churches of the Devil: “Satan has his church and his ministers.”18 As research in Brazil has pointed out (Birman 1997; de Almeida 2009; Mariz 1997; Steil 2006), these groups are associated with entities originating in the African-Brazilian and spiritist religions: there are organizations of diverse religiosities which do not claim to be satanic, but are identified as such by the ‘possessionist.’ The rituals performed by these groups are equated to satanic ones and those who have come into contact with them are considered to be somehow contaminated. To a great extent, the construction of representations of satanic churches is part of a discourse meant to consolidate the group internally. An image of total otherness, symbolically opposed to the Church of God and involved in the fight of evil versus good, is created on the basis of loose elements – e.g. offerings found in certain places, public celebrations of entities like Iemanja and Oxum, ritual elements like the sound of drums and divination. Members of ‘satanic churches’ are believed to devise systematic plans to destroy the Catholic Church, for which purpose they do things like interfering with healing Masses through ostensive disruption (noises) and other actions which are only perceived by the priests and their assistants –resulting in the priests’ being distracted, stumbling upon reciting the Holy Scripture or being unable to utter prayers aloud.19
Interview with Father C., San Isidro, 13 February 2015. Interview with Father C., San Isidro, 13 February 2015. 17 Interview with Father B. and his assistant, Quilmes, 19 November 2014. 18 Interview with Father B and his assistant, Quilmes, 19 November 2014. 19 These characteristics are mentioned by Fathers B., C. and L. 15 16
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Witches, sorcerers and diviners are characterized as human agents of evil, who usually overlap with the figure of the ‘satanic cults’ leader. They act at a spiritual level, casting spells on a special request, for a fee. Their power stems from their expertise in invoking demons for specific purposes. Dezzi (2003, p. 20) defines them as “infamous beings who make a profit out of many Christians’ curiosity and despair, who use parapsychology to cause harm to other people, through rituals and invocations.” These agents, who specialize in invoking and administrating evil, can use their connection with demons for their own benefit. Finally, the people who contact these specialists are also regarded as human agents of evil. Relatives, former partners, neighbors motivated by envy, jealousy or desire for revenge turn to the specialized services of sorcerers and diviners, who cast spells in exchange for money. The victim can often clearly identify the commissioner, that is, the person requesting a spell to be put on someone. He or she can be a relative or an acquaintance having a specific intention, the will, and/or the motivation. By contrast, they cannot always identify who was the specialist who cast the spell and, even less, which demons helped him or her. Not all ‘possessionists’ personify evil with to the same logic. Exorcists and their assistants tend to personify the figure of Satan, as can be seen in their discourse about his characteristics, names, and nature. Among churchgoers and those who consult exorcists, the notion of the Devil is less specific, first, because their discourse is multifaceted – they talk about demons, which are described in terms of diverse criteria, from the demons mentioned in the Bible to those associated with alcohol, drugs or infidelity – and also because evil is often embodied in concrete human agents, and identified with known people to them. Personal and relational problems are thus re-signified cosmologically and interpreted in terms of the struggle between good and evil. As a consequence, evil becomes a permanent presence. This gives rise to regular actions directed towards protection and safeguarding (Ospina Martínez 2004, 2006; Uribe et al. 2006). Priests try to intervene in these representations by imposing some order on them and guiding them, although not with certain success. Father C. tells the story of one of his patients, a regular attendant at healing Masses, who went to see him concerned about the attack of demons. The exorcist asked him for details and the tormented churchgoer described his ailment. The diagnosis was categorical: “Listen, you don’t have the demon of infidelity, you are simply unfaithful,” Father C. determined, and ordered him to stand by his marriage vows and to join the parish prayer groups. The priest sets the limits of possessionist interpretations through the doctrine of free will: thinking of all evil (error, sin) as external reinforces the idea that the individual does not choose evil but is possessed by it. This tension between individual autonomy and a more strongly ethical religiosity has been highlighted by Mariz (1997) in the case of Brazilian neo-Pentecostalism. Priests’ attempts at regulation occur in a diverse field with open and porous borders: those who attend healing Masses, and those who consult an exorcist all circulate among plural therapeutic-ritual options and do not always become regular participants of specific groups (Mallimaci and Giménez Béliveau 2007).
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5.5 The Evil Fields of Action Evil-doing human and non-human agents act mainly in two domains: on a territory and through genealogy. As it unfolds over time, evil actions during past generations affect people, still causing symptoms in the present. As it spreads across territory, it can take over neighborhoods, houses, and institutions. The association between territorial and generational demons first appeared in the neo-Pentecostal domain (Mariz 1997), cuts across other Evangelical and Baptist denominations (Wynarczyk 1995) and became established later in parts of Charismatic Catholicism (Steil 2006). From the Charismatics’ perspective, just as evil spreads across the world, it is present in people’s family histories. Far from being confined to Christianity, the inner healing therapies– that also include work with the ancestors – are shared by different religious traditions and are quite widespread in the New Age world (Viotti 2017). They started to develop with particular intensity in Catholic Charismatic environments in the 1990s (Ospina Martínez 2007), with the proliferation of courses, workshops and publications. The Catholic groups practicing deliverance and exorcism rituals, and their followers, uphold the idea that evil is like a radiation: ancestors’ sins, diseases or unsolved pains are passed on to the present generations, and will continue affecting future generations unless appropriate rituals are performed. Here is an example from Father B. A mother went to see him, concerned about her troubled son. The child was unable to sleep and had strange dreams. During the ritual, it emerged that his mother’s grandfather had been a foreman in the Panama Canal construction works and had left without paying the workers. As a result, a curse had been placed on him and had been passed on to his great-grandson.20 Since 2003, Sister B. has been teaching Intergenerational Healing Seminars in Argentina and other countries in Latin America. She specializes in psychology and spirituality, and claims that “we are unique and unrepeatable, but we are the product of the generations before us.”21 Thus, people and their families are adversely affected by “negative patterns of behavior, addictions, mental and physical disorders, diseases, vulnerabilities, shortcomings … curses and negative forces”22 bequeathed by their ancestors. In the seminars, any diseases, vices and sins persisting in the family tree can be identified as alcoholism, suicide, depression, adultery, and cancer.23 Physical, moral and spiritual causes coexist and are traced back in time to previous generations: the suffering is genetic. As stated by Steil, the “geneticization of the
Conversation with Father B., Quilmes, Province of Buenos Aires, 28 January 2013. Fieldnotes, Intergenerational Healing Seminar, San Isidro, province of Buenos Aires, 7 October, 2015. 22 See previous note. 23 Fieldnotes, Intergenerational Healing Seminar, 23 September 2015, San Isidro, Province of Buenos Aires. 20 21
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etiology of diseases” makes it possible to identify a new language to “redefine the issue of evil and of the devil” (Steil 2006, p. 221). The processes through which evil is transmitted across generations and the subsequent healing processes performed on the family tree have some affinities with other discourses from other parts of the world. According to Csordas (2005), the origin of family tree therapies among the British Charismatics in the 1980s bears a connection to the Chinese tradition that posits a relationship among the living, their ancestors, and ghosts. Likewise, in contemporary practices in Argentina, it is possible to identify the compatibility between the language used in relation to these conceptions about the transmission of evil and that used in relation to the psychologized perspective that stresses the holistic and the immanent (Viotti 2014). Just like the body and its genealogical history, the territory is a locus of the cosmic struggle between good and evil (Mosqueira 2014). These eternally opposing but unequal forces – with God having absolute superiority, according to Catholic theology – fight over the territory through their agents: the Church of good and the agents of evil. Humans, aided or commanded by demons, contaminate the territory, which remains in that condition until it is delivered by means of ritual practices. González (2008), in his analysis of Evangelical campaigns in Switzerland, finds three types of practice that reveal demonic influence within a territory: they are related to religion, to the world of spirits, and to sexuality. Our fieldwork on the periphery of the city of Buenos Aires revealed a similar categorization in the discourse of Catholic priests and their communities. The third category could even be broadened to include sexual and moral practices. Father L. sees ‘idolatry’ growing in his neighborhood: altars and ‘Umbanda rites’ celebrating Iemanja24 on the shores of the River Plate as satanic practices. “The neighborhood has been taken over, it is totally out of control,”25 he adds. Evil settles in a territory when spirits are invoked through rituals or games. Father L., celebrating Mass before an evangelization campaign in his neighborhood, prays to God and asks Him to help the missionaries fight against the “sorcerers, Umbandas and spiritists” who invoke spirits and unleash them, through offerings and sacrifices at cross-roads.26 Licentious sexual behavior also creates a risk of contamination, which is transmitted from bodies to places. Father C. was called to exorcize a house where a man had been unfaithful to his wife ‘with a witch.’ Strange events (objects moving by themselves, disturbing noises and smells) started to take place in the house following the illicit sexual acts and the spell cast by the ‘witch.’ The same priest performed exorcisms in “places where evil lives in an explicit, clear and manifest form,”27 such as the surgery room of a clandestine clinic where abortions had been carried out for years. Evil thus seeps into houses, institutions and places, brought by
Iemanja is one of the entities of Afro-Brazilian cults. The Umbanda tradition identifies her with the Virgin Mary Stella Maris. 25 Interview with Father L., Ezpeleta, 7 October 2016. 26 Fieldnotes (Natalia Fernández), mission in the neighborhood, Ezpeleta, 1 April 2017. 27 Interview with Father C., San Isidro, 13 February 2015. 24
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religious or spiritist rituals, and by continuous and intense acts against Christian morality. The contaminated territories, the agents of evil and the cursed objects form a nefarious circuit. The territory is marked by people’s actions (González 2008), using fetishes, and the evil thus transmitted spreads and settles. As will be shown in the next section, the power of territorial demons is counteracted by the Church’s healing action. This involves first identifying the relevant places (e.g., an Umbanda altar, neighborhoods where a ‘sorcerer’ acts) and then performing a number of rituals aimed at deliverance – expelling the work of the Devil and thus healing – the main weapon of such rites being prayer.
5.6 Eviction Rituals and Exorcism Evil actions are widespread and gradual, and possession of a body is an extreme form and very unusual. However, many members of prayer groups, exorcists, Charismatic priests, lay people and parishioners attest to its existence. They constitute an open network where the discourse about demonic action persists and is sustained. These agents are within a type of system that upholds this ritual as an established discourse among ‘possessionists’ (Giordan and Possamai 2016). The members of these groups can also be former followers of Umbanda groups, people who claim to have made pacts with the Devil, or churchgoers who see themselves as sinners continuously exposed to temptations by the Evil One. Whether members of church groups or simply close to them, they tell stories of having flirted with the Devil in its diverse forms. They have been touched by the Devil and have known it first hand, which is why they can claim to recognize it in other people and work jointly with priests to evict it. In emic terms, evil actions are conceived of as part of a network consisting of ‘nodal actors’ and ‘key events’ (de la Torre and Gutiérrez Zúñiga 2017). Since evil manifests in various ways and through various textures, it can be fought by means of a complex plurality of therapeutic-ritual forms. In other words, rites of deliverance must be just as widespread and persistent as evil actions are. There is a mismatch between the present-day circulation of information, images, and discourses about exorcism and the number of rituals reported by priests. However, as already mentioned, major exorcism is only at one end of a continuum. It also includes other therapeutic-ritual forms that can be used to face less severe evil attacks on people. Deliverance and healing rituals, and deliverance prayers, are part of the everyday actions of ‘possessionist’ groups. These rituals are similar to exorcism, even if they do not include the formulas to expel evil (in which the priest commands the spirit, in the name of Jesus, to leave the body), and they sustain the imaginary of the constant presence of evil. Therapies against evil actions could be classified into two modalities: massive, open to the public, and individualized, responding to specific problems. In Argentina, exorcists combine both.
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Massive modalities are organized in healing, deliverance, and exorcism Masses, often followed by the laying-on of hands, campaigns and missions. During the Masses, announced as extraordinary events, evil and its agents are overtly named. In one of the Masses, a churchgoer told me that she was surprised that the priest made reference to exorcized water and salt. “Here they talk about the Evil One openly; it’s not the same in the regular Church.”28 The liturgy of healing and deliverance Masses includes the same sections as the common liturgical ceremony, but some sections are made to stand out and last longer. The priest’s homily usually focuses on breaking free from bad habits, spells, and ties, and some priests use glossolalia in their prayers. Prayer is the key moment of the healing ritual performance. In a strongly emotional atmosphere, the faithful, with their eyes closed, follow the prayer uttered by the priest. The priest invokes the Divinity and asks Him to put an end to diseases, spells, and vices: “Father, destroy all of the enemy’s work. Set us free from any chains, from any wall, obstacle, barrier.”29As the priest utters the prayer, the faithful whisper phrases. In this intense moment, some of the attendants faint, others scream and cry. I was present at several ‘deliverance’ rites: in March 2013, as two priests walked along the central nave of the church holding the consecrated host, a twenty- year-old woman started to scream in a deep voice. “No, no, no,” she screamed, as she shook her right hand furiously. When the priests noticed the woman’s reaction, they started to pray, laying their hands on her head. At one point, Father B. took a two-liter bottle of water, blessed it and poured it onto the affected woman. She screamed and resisted. The other priest took his stole and put the sign of the cross, embroidered in the fabric, against her back. Her tremors increased, and she arched her back, rejecting the contact. The priest kept repeating a prayer as he performed the gesture of pulling and winding a thread, as if he wanted to untie the possessed woman. After about 20 min, she started to calm down. This episode, which was explained to me as a deliverance rite, had all the components of an exorcism, except for certain prayer formulas. Manifestations of the presence of evil entities occur at two moments: when the priest prays or displays the consecrated host – considered among the faithful to be the real presence of Jesus – or at the laying-on of hands after the Mass. Evil spirits manifest themselves in the presence of holy symbols and need to be expelled by the Holy Spirit through the priest’s intervention. The second therapeutic modality entails helping affected people who seek assistance with personal problems. This modality is very similar to the care provided by biomedical therapies: an appointment with a specialist is required – some priests have a 2-month waiting list – and diseases, consultations with physicians, and vicissitudes of religious life are recorded in a file, akin to a medical record (Amiotte- Suchet 2016; Giordan and Possamai 2018). Here, the exorcist focuses on listening and interpreting the ailments reported (Giménez Béliveau 2017): the key is to distinguish physical or mental diseases from spiritual problems. When troubles with
28 29
Fieldnotes, conversations with Graciela, San Isidro, province of Buenos Aires, 20 May 2015. Fieldnotes, Mass during a healing campaign, Quilmes, province of Buenos Aires, 7 April 2017.
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Table 5.1 Mirror models of the action of evil and the struggle against it Material manifestation Linguistic manifestation Agents Action on the body Action on past generations Action on territory
Evil Cursed object, fetish Verbal curse
Good Ritual object: Holy water, blessed holy cards and images, holy oils, the cross Prayer/Healing prayer
The Devil, ‘satanic churches,’ The Catholic Church, Charismatic sorcerers, spiritists, reiki masters. priests, Christians who pray Demonic possession/obsession Healing possession by the Holy Spirit Sins/vices/crimes committed in past generations Occupation of territory by evil
Family tree healing ritual and prayers Mission to liberate territory (campaigns, way of the cross)
demonic entities are identified, the decision is made to perform the ritual, which is usually scheduled for another day, since most priests allocate a set day for it. The Catholic Church, unlike Pentecostal Churches (de Almeida 2009; Oro et al. 2003), chooses to carry out the demon eviction ritual inconspicuously. In Charismatic groups, public deliverance rites which are very similar to exorcism are performed, but not major exorcisms, which are not public and do not go on record in ecclesiastical files. Exorcists work by setting up teams. In Argentina, there is one publicly known exorcist with a permanent appointment –Father A., based in La Plata, where people go to see him. The rest of the exorcists provide assistance to people, and when they suspect possession and feel that the major ritual needs to be performed they have to receive the ad casum authorization from the bishop. This is why the teams’ names do not make explicit reference to the eviction of demons, but rather to the general work of listening to and helping people with problems. The Ministry of Consolation, the Intercession Groups, the Intergenerational Deliverance and Healing Groups are created in different dioceses as pastoral services. Among exorcists, a network that specializes in addressing problems with evil spirits has consolidated as a result of seminars, the circulation of books and videos, WhatsApp groups and other social networks, as well as diocesan, national and international congresses. This process has reinforced international networks. The therapeutic-ritual system of deliverance and exorcism is conceptually organized as a mirror image (González 2008) as evil actions, objects, and agents have their counterparts in the field of good. Table 5.1 shows the opposing elements that are part of the ritual. Cursed objects adversely affecting people are mirrored by ritual objects which help the exorcist to detect and neutralize their evil influence. Each exorcist chooses the holy objects he will work with; those most widely used include holy water, holy oils, the Cross, the priest’s stole, and exorcized salt, as well as objects that the affected people take home, such as medals of St. Benedict, blessed holy cards or rosaries. These material manifestations of evil and good are complemented by
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linguistic ones: curses – words uttered in a ritual order to cause damage (Favret Saada 2014) – have their counterpart in prayer, which, according to the imaginary of these insiders, is the most powerful weapon for those fighting against evil. The agents of evil, analyzed in the previous sections, are counteracted by the agents of good. Catholics, and especially exorcists and their teams, fight evil using various specialized ritual techniques, which start by recognizing and renouncing evil and close with the prayer which performatively delivers the affected person from demonic entities. The evil actions on the body, from past generations, and on the territory are fought against through ritual actions at the same levels. The most severe intervention in the body, possession, is mirrored by the Holy Spirit’s healing possession. Other actions, such as demonic obsessions, are also healed through this system: when the priest lays on his hands or utters the prayer speaking in tongues, the faithful often faint, cough or cry, signs which are interpreted as the Holy Spirit’s healing penetration. Evil actions from past generations are interrupted through family tree healing prayers performed in specialized seminars. These seminars teach prayers for the mothers and fathers of previous generations, from the first generation to the fifteenth. They are named (Jamut 2013) and a plea is made to obtain forgiveness for them in the name of the person uttering the prayer for his or her ancestors. This collective prayer is personalized with the development of a genogram: a diagram of the family tree that participants must complete with the names of relatives, and any diseases, sins or vices affecting the family that they can identify. On the last day, genograms are put together and presented as an offering during the Mass. Sister B.’s assistant reports that genograms are subsequently burnt.30 The infected family tree is thus purified by fire. Evil actions on a territory are healed through rituals performed within it. The main tools for the purification of the territory are missions, exorcisms of houses, and Stations of the Cross celebrations. Before an annual mission is carried out in one neighborhood in a peripheral district to the south of Buenos Aires, Father L. says a prayer: “May any domain of evil escape from this neighborhood. Jesus is the Lord, the owner of this place. May all demons escape, may the mere contact with people bestow health upon them. All darkness will be dispelled.”31 The ritual elements for combatting evil are interrelated and organized in a system. For the ‘possessionist,’ the purpose which gives meaning and order to ritual performances is clear: to restore the rule of good over their world.
5.7 Conclusions The presence of evil in society and in the contemporary Argentine Church is construed in different ways. There are priests and groups who, following Pope Francis, associate it as a consequence of predatory capitalism, and for others the 30 31
Fieldnotes, Intergenerational Healing Seminar, San Isidro, 23 September 2015. Fieldnotes (Natalia Fernández), Mission in the neighbourhood, Ezpeleta, 1 April 2017.
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source of evil is embodied in the person of Satan. The ritual of exorcism, as a means to fight against evil, is not part of all ecclesiastical movements, some of which consider that it is, to say the least, hardly an adequate remedy for contemporary ailments, or that it is outright dangerous for the affected people, since it fails to recognize physical or psychological causes of discomfort. The increase in exorcism rituals among Catholics results from a systemic conception about the action of the forces of evil and disease in the world, held by groups associated with revivalist sectors of Catholicism. The growth of these sectors, that identify themselves as Charismatics (Silveira Campos 2007), and of the practices which they propose also disseminates their notions about evil, its action in the world, and the appropriate ways to fight it. Exorcism practices fit into this worldview, and play a key role in providing meaning to the ritual and their discourse. According to the insiders’ understanding, evil is present everywhere (Ospina Martínez 2006) and gives rise to a struggle which demands attention from Church agents. Bodies and territories are under siege from, and invaded by, the Devil’s actions. This situation is counteracted with therapeutic-ritual actions intended to restore moral order through the central role of ritual and sacramental practice. Exorcists and their teams are increasingly specialized in the fight against evil: they devote all of their lives to this struggle, which becomes all-encompassing (Mallimaci 2015). The strong presence of the conception of evil in Charismatic discourse and rituals (Csordas 2012), the incompleteness of the answers provided by biomedicine, and the growth of spirituality (Giordan and Possamai 2016) and religious individualization (Viotti 2016), all contribute to the increasing demand for help and assistance from the “great mass of sufferers from secular modernity” (Ospina Martínez 2007, p. 395). (translated from Spanish by Gerardo Bensi)
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Chapter 6
Diagnosing the Devil. A Case Study on a Protocol Between an Exorcist and a Psychiatrist in Italy Giuseppe Giordan Abstract According to a positivist perspective, the relationship between religion and science has always been considered mutually exclusive and irreconcilable. This perspective has been deeply debated and reshaped in the last decades, and the example of the link between religion and medicine illustrates how the issues of healthcare, healing, and treatments are examined in these two domains. The ongoing negotiation process highlights the overlapping of medical and religious narratives in different spheres where scientific explanations of illness and healing coexist with faith-based discourses and practices. In this chapter we will present a case study of a Catholic exorcist who uses a ‘protocol’ in diagnosing and fighting the Devil: according to this protocol, he requires his patients to consult a psychiatrist in order to evaluate whether the declared presence of the Devil should be treated as a mental/psychological disease or as a possession by Satan. With obvious differences in the two systems of reasoning and explanation of causes, and in the treatments and consequences for patients asking for assistance, both exorcist and psychiatrist go through procedures which legitimize and reinforce each other. Analysis of in-depth interviews with the exorcist and the psychiatrist, and of a 200,000 word document written by the exorcist, containing the outcomes of the patients’ visits to the psychiatrist, will show how medical and religious narratives and treatments can reinforce each other, reexamining the understanding of the secular–religious divide. Keywords Exorcism · Catholic exorcist · Psychiatrist · Legitimacy · Medical and religious narratives · Secular-religious divide · Rationalization
G. Giordan (*) Dipartimento di Filosofia, Sociologia, Pedagogia e Psicologia Applicata, University of Padova, Padova, Italy e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 G. Giordan, A. Possamai (eds.), The Social Scientific Study of Exorcism in Christianity, Popular Culture, Religion and Society. A Social-Scientific Approach 3, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-43173-0_6
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6.1 Introduction In 2015 (from January to December) we held a series of monthly or fortnightly meetings with an exorcist working with one of the largest Catholic dioceses in northern Italy, fully expecting to find numerous topics to discuss. Our curiosity suggested plenty of questions to ask during our interviews. Does the Devil really exist? If so, how does he make his appearance in people’s lives? How do people who have been exorcized describe their experience? What exactly happens during an exorcism? Is it true that the possessed may vomit blood, speak in tongues, and develop a superhuman strength? Can they really know details of the personal lives of people they have never met before? On all these aspects, we have already published the results of our study conducted together with Adam Possamai (Giordan and Possamai 2016a, b, 2018a, b), emphasizing their theoretical relevance to the field of the sociology of religion. But our previous work with Possamai paid little attention to another intriguing element: in the interviews we conducted in 2015, the exorcist referred several times to a protocol that he adopted to establish with certainty whether a patient who asked for his help was genuinely possessed by the Devil, or, rather, had some psychological or psychiatric disorder that did not warrant the intervention of an exorcist or the ritual of exorcism – a distinction fundamentally important for both the exorcist and the patient. This protocol involved a stable form of collaboration with a psychiatrist, who continues to cooperate with the exorcist in the process of clarifying a patient’s problems. We found the idea of this collaboration between an exorcist and a psychiatrist particularly fascinating, for several reasons. For a start, taking the positivist view that, for decades, has drawn clear and undisputed boundaries between science and religion, the relationship between these two domains has always been irreconcilable and mutually exclusive. In the positivist world, it was assumed that science would sooner or later solve all the problems that people once believed could be solved by religion. Even without going to the extremes of those scientists who see religion as tantamount to superstition and sorcery, and of those religious people who see the arrogance of science as the work of the Devil, until not very long ago the clear distinction and incommunicability between scientific and religious knowledge had always been taken for granted. In actual fact, as explained in our previous works, the practice of exorcism (in Catholicism and many other religious and spiritual traditions) goes to show that the functional differentiation between the various spheres of social life – including the separation of religion and science – has been less clear and distinct than we are usually inclined to believe. As regards the relationship between religion and medicine in particular, the two spheres are connected by a much more complex web of relations than is generally officially acknowledged. The aim of the present contribution is to shed new light on various facets of the relationship between religion and medicine, illustrating how a collaboration between an exorcist and a psychiatrist makes sense and seems perfectly justified to the social agents involved in this interaction. Analyzing what they had to say seems to support the hypothesis that religion and medicine are two forms of knowledge that can
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acknowledge one another. More to the point, they can each legitimize the other with the shared goal of improving the well-being of individuals who are suffering in body and mind. In other words, by breaking down the ideological barriers that have separated them since the time of the Enlightenment, theological knowledge and scientific knowledge might support each other in a mutual exchange of legitimacy that makes the actions of psychiatrist and exorcist simultaneously significant. In our case study, patients’ medical stories and religious stories, with their respective treatments, had a mutually reinforcing effect, challenging our understanding of the secular–religious divide, and obliging us to re-examine the issue. This chapter describes a protocol devised by a Catholic priest and exorcist for collaborating with a psychiatrist, as it was explained to us during a number of in- depth interviews held in 2018 with the exorcist (six interviews) and the psychiatrist (four interviews), both separately and together (two interviews were conducted in the presence of both parties). In our analysis of the diagnosing of the patients’ spiritual and psychological conditions, we integrate two theoretical perspectives – one, by Pierre Bourdieu (1971), that looks at the autonomy of the religious field and the mechanism of exchange of legitimacy, and another, by Erving Goffman (1961, 1963), stressing the idea of the ‘medicalization of society.’
6.2 Science and Religion: Bridging the Gap The gradual advance of modernity has gone hand in hand with developments in science and technology, their principle of legitimacy founded on the rationality of the Enlightenment. In the Dark Ages, the principles governing an individual’s social and private life were based on sorcery and religious beliefs; then came the Enlightenment, and then positivism, to definitively bury the past belief that humans were not in full control of their destiny. People were finally able to find a rational explanation for everything that happened around and within them. Unsurprisingly, belief in the existence of the Devil, and in the efficacy of exorcism were, and in many respects still are, considered the most typical expression of those Dark Ages. The idea of a linear development of culture and society – from the sorcery of prehistoric times to religion, and from there to modern science – has taken shape in many radical versions of the theory of secularization, which predicts the disappearance of religion from the public sphere, and also its declining relevance in the private sphere (Acquaviva 1961; Casanova 1994). What is happening today does not seem to tend in this direction, however. The return of religions to the public sphere, and the revival of exorcism practices seem to bear witness to how magic, religion, and science are interwoven in a much more complex web than nineteenth-century positivists imagined. In our contemporary world, and in diverse social and cultural settings, there seem to be processes of secularization and desecularization underway at the same time. Scientific rationality no longer rejects the possibility of there being other ways of explaining the world and the individual’s role in it. Strictly scientific explanations
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are juxtaposed with more flexible and inclusive approaches, in which the boundary between rationality and religious or spiritual beliefs is permeable. As we will see later, a diagnosis of demonic possession and the subsequent practice of exorcism are good examples of how ‘magical’ and religious beliefs are interwoven with scientific explanations in our interviewees’ accounts. In the practice of exorcism, and more generally in the treatment of ‘diseases of the soul,’ the conflicting interpretations of science and religion become particularly specific and, in some ways, even paradoxical. In fact, historians of medicine attribute to exorcism a decisive role in the birth and expansion of psychiatry – to such a degree that it can be considered as a primitive form of psychotherapy. It was Ellenberger (1970) who explained how ‘dynamic psychiatry’ evolved precisely from the practice of exorcism, and how the various stages into which the ritual of exorcism is divided can be compared with the steps involved in a patient’s diagnosis and treatment by a psychiatrist. So medical practice would seem to have extended and improved on the religious practice of exorcism. Innamorati et al. (2018) made the point that, with the advent of psychology and psychopathology, the concept of ‘evil’ gradually came to be separated from metaphysics and religion, and the process of secularization of the Devil seemed to have irreversibly put an end to the practice of exorcism. According to Hacking (1995), the concept of ‘multiple personality’ marked an important step in the re-interpretation of what had previously been considered cases of demonic possession. Up until the nineteenth century, dissociative personality traits were generally seen as a sign of possession, and treated with exorcisms. An external entity was believed to be responsible for the presence of ‘other’ personalities that could only be dispelled by the exorcist sending this entity away. In the end, it was psychotherapy that sent the exorcist away. Relying especially on theories of psychological automatism, multiple personalities were explained as forms of internal psychopathology, and the notion of any influence of supernatural entities was definitively abandoned. The Devil was consequently secularized and became the emerging subconscious. (Innamorati et al. 2018, p. 37 – my translation)
Zimbardo (2007) took much the same view of the Devil’s secularization. Recalling the story of the biblical character, Lucifer (the angel fallen from grace because of his pride), Zimbardo spoke of the ‘Lucifer effect’: every good human being can turn bad as a result of psychological or social causes. The ‘power of the situation’ can turn Lucifer into Satan, from the bearer of light to the cause of all ills. The Devil could thus be further secularized, no longer a cause of inner malaise but the outcome of social and cultural variables. Despite the arrival on the scene of psychiatric science, and the calling into question of the very existence of the Devil (even within the Catholic Church), belief in this figure never seems to have disappeared. From some recent studies (Giordan and Possamai 2018b; Young 2016) it would even seem that the demand for exorcisms is on the rise, to such a degree that an International Association of Exorcists was established in 1991 and acknowledged by the Vatican by canonical law in 2014. The return of rites of exorcism clearly cannot be shrugged off as an echo from the past in the present. It is interesting to see how psychological and psychiatric discourse forms an integral part of this return to a magical practice born of an appar-
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ently anti-scientific mentality. It is not hard to imagine that the switch from religious to psychiatric explanations for this phenomenon is extremely complicated, and the boundaries between sacred and profane, between religious belief and mental disorder, between reality and fantasy, are extremely fluid. For our research on the diagnostic process, we find it appropriate to apply two sociological theories. The first theoretical perspective, developed by Pierre Bourdieu, emphasizes the exchange of legitimacy in the religious field. The rules of the reproduction of the religious field contain the mechanisms of exchange of social and symbolic capital. In our research, such exchange of legitimacy can be seen between the religious field and a scientific one. In the process of management of the sacred, Bourdieu (1971) described the legitimate and the profane manipulations of the sacred. In his postulates about the religious field and the establishment of its boundaries, the monopoly on legitimizing and constructing religious meanings required the existence of those who exclusively produce religious competences and those who consume them. Following this perspective, we hypothesize that religion and medicine compete in the process of exchange of legitimacy in their efforts to improve a patient’s well-being. In this competition for legitimacy, both religion and science increase their symbolic capital and power. We could say that religion needs medicine, and medicine does not seem entirely deaf to explanations founded on religious and spiritual premises. In our case study, the exorcist needs the psychiatrist for numerous reasons, the most important seemingly being to legitimize his action. Though it may seem paradoxical, medicine would serve the purpose of reinforcing the credibility of a religious belief (the existence of the Devil) and of a rite (exorcism) that might otherwise seem dubious, or even ridiculous. In other words, medical epistemology would be called on, more or less deliberately, to support theological epistemology on an issue that is particularly sensitive for both – ‘diseases of the soul.’ This recourse to medical science on the part of religion to legitimize rationally inexplicable phenomena applies not only to the case of demonic possession, but also to physicians being consulted and asked to acknowledge miracles performed by individuals who are due to be proclaimed as saints. The canonization process includes hearing the opinions of physicians to confirm the extraordinary nature of events, which are decisive in establishing the criterion of sanctity. The second theoretical perspective, which has explanatory potential for the study of exchange of legitimacy between exorcist and psychiatrist, we find in Ervin Goffman’s works related to the topic of expert control over patients’ identity and the prescribing of social stigma. In his two books, Asylums. Essays on the Social Situation of Mental Patients and Other Inmates (1961) and Stigma (1963), Goffman developed the idea of the medicalization of society, related to an attempt to distinguish between a ‘normal human being’ and one who is stigmatized due to various deviations, and the role of professional experts in this regard. What was developed in Asylums as an idea of medical and psychiatric treatment in mental hospitals of those “who would be judged ‘sick’ by psychiatric standards but who never come to be viewed as such by themselves or others” (Goffman 1961, p. 128) was further developed in Stigma. Goffman stated that it is the function of the specific expert groups to decide the difference between those whom he called ‘normals’ and a per-
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son with a stigma. Moreover, it is in the process of imputing particular stigmatized attributes that “the medical profession is likely to have the special job of informing the infirm who he is going to have to be” (Goffman 1963, p. 49). In this regard, psychiatrist and exorcist, each in their own way, define the degree of their patients’ ‘normality’ and in doing so use their expertize to define the diagnosis and the necessary treatment. It is interesting to mention here that, in the growing body of recent literature on exorcists’ activities and experiences, a feature of all the experiences described is the exorcists’ collaboration with a psychiatrist (Babolin 2014; Bamonte 2006; Cini Tassinaro 1984; Gozzelino 2000; Laurentin 1995; Salvucci 2000). Amorth (2000), an internationally famous exorcist and the founder of the International Association of Exorcists, dedicated a whole book to the interaction between exorcists and psychiatrists. He claimed to have been invited to various conferences of professional psychiatrists, and to have found the debate very interesting and open-minded. Thus, we hypothesize that it is not only a matter of religion needing medicine. Modern medical science does not wholly discount stories that go beyond the rational scientific approach typical of the Enlightenment. As several studies have demonstrated (Brody 2003; Burkhart and Hogan 2008; Cadge 2013; Cadge et al. 2009; Grant et al. 2016; Herman 2006; Rousseau 2000), many healthcare workers resort to religious and spiritual notions to make sense of what happens in the course of their professional activities. Overcoming the typical approach of the medical positivism of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, today, treating people who are ill is no longer described in terms of ‘healing the body’ (an outcome sometimes impossible to achieve). Care is interpreted nowadays in terms of a person’s overall well-being, in mind, body, and soul. Taking this more holistic view, it no longer seems strange to juxtapose advances in modern medicine with religious and spiritual elements capable of improving a patient’s overall well-being, and serving as a source of meaning that could not come from the application of scientific rationality alone. Simply put, science is unable to say the last word – even as regards human health – and, faced with its own failings, it acknowledges that it is untenable to ‘deny scientifically’ the meanings that a social agent may find in the world of religious beliefs. As seen from the narratives that we outline below, it no longer seems impossible to reconcile the approach of Western science – as crystallized in rationalized conventional medicine since the advent of positivism – with the perspective of religious knowledge. In fact, the narratives of the exorcist and psychiatrist seem to sustain and legitimize one another. By saying that he works together with a psychiatrist, the exorcist legitimizes his public image, making it more credible and less strange. The psychiatrist, on the other hand, opens his profession to the solution of cases that, from a strictly medical viewpoint, would seem inexplicable. The two narrations come together in the two parties’ shared effort to improve the well-being of individuals with a ‘disease of the soul.’ This obviously does not mean to say that the two frames of reference are perfectly compatible with one another, or that there are no dissonances and inconsistencies. Nonetheless, the narratives that we analyze describe how the diagnostic process highlights the exchange of legitimacy between
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exorcist and psychiatrist in their search for ‘medicalization’ cases, that is, the situation where each has to decide about a patient’s identity and the level of his or her deviation from the ‘normals.’ Thus, we intend to analyze the adaptation strategies and negotiating spaces that these two worlds, the scientific and the religious, can use when functioning one alongside the other.
6.3 Discernment: Interview with the Exorcist As mentioned earlier, we had already met the exorcist whom we interviewed in 2018 3 years earlier, and an atmosphere of mutual trust made our communications very easygoing straight away. We concentrated mainly on the exorcist’s adoption of a protocol that included collaboration with a psychiatrist. His work as an exorcist had begun when he was 70 years old. After concluding a career as professor of philosophy at a prestigious Pontifical University in Rome, he returned to his diocese in northern Italy and was officially appointed ‘diocesan exorcist’ by the Bishop. It is clear from his account that he would never have expected such an appointment, given his disenchanted and somewhat skeptical attitude to phenomena of demonic possession. “I could say that I began my experience as an exorcist with an attitude that was more scientific and critical than blindly fideistic. But, within a few months of contact with people with a disease of the soul, I became convinced that their suffering should be taken seriously. Otherwise they would turn to all sorts of sorcerers and charlatans, who would only add to their suffering.” In his decade of experience, the exorcist had seen more than a thousand cases. He had written a brief report on each case after every meeting, collecting them in a document of more than 200,000 words. This document reveals the ‘diagnostic’ procedure he adopted to clarify the troubles afflicting people who asked for his help. Having established that only 5% of these people genuinely needed to be exorcized (at least once), the main challenge was to understand whether a patient’s discomfort was physical or psychological-psychiatric, or of a more specifically spiritual nature. The keyword that emerged several times during our interviews was ‘discernment.’ The exorcist’s most difficult task, right from his first encounters with his patients, is to ascertain whether they are really possessed by the Devil or – much more likely – have other issues that would not benefit from a rite of exorcism. Although the boundary between psychiatric disease and spiritual discomfort is very fluid, “we need to be sure there is a genuine need before exorcizing a person, otherwise the rite of exorcism can even have negative effects.” Our interviewee was extremely precise on this point, and adamant in opposing ‘diagnostic exorcism’ (a full-blown exorcist ritual performed to establish whether an individual is actually possessed by the Devil or suffering from another disorder). In his experience, “practicing exorcism for diagnostic purposes is wrong because, if the patient already suffers from psychiatric problems, the rite of exorcism could even exacerbate their state of delirium and, instead of healing the patient, it would make their disease even more severe.”
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That is why careful discernment is essential. It must be achieved by means of indepth interviews with the patient and prayer, and also with the help of a specialist, that is, a psychiatrist. When the exorcist spoke of enlisting the help of a psychiatrist, we admitted we found it rather odd that someone operating in the name of God to chase away the Devil should need a scientist’s help – almost as if religion lacked sufficient resources to deal with the problem. By no means surprised by our question, the exorcist explained that he can understand why some traditionalists find it strange to request the intervention of a specialist physician. But he saw nothing strange about drawing on the knowledge and healing techniques of other sciences. “My approach to the phenomenon of demonic possession is not of a fideistic or readily gullible nature. The Devil has to be taken seriously, and I think an exchange with science lends seriousness to my work.” We pointed out that his words might sound ambiguous, if the seriousness of his work as an exorcist relies on the support of an outside voice that often questions the religious premises for the existence of the soul, and especially for the existence of the Devil. He said he is well aware that psychiatry has contributed to demystifying the figure of the Devil, but this does not mean that he is not still in action. The growing numbers of people who turn to exorcists and wizards, and practice occultism go to show that, despite the scientists’ claims, there is still ample room for beliefs and practices that have nothing to do with science. This exorcist is convinced that the need to consult a psychiatrist stems from the very fact that psychiatric and spiritual problems often overlap. Somebody who suddenly develops a Herculean strength is not always genuinely possessed by the Devil. They may have psychiatric issues or be subject to paranormal phenomena, both of which need to be diagnosed for what they are. “While it would be wrong to see the Devil everywhere, it would be equally wrong to peremptorily rule out his presence.” Hence the need for discernment, which also involves collaborating with a psychiatrist. According to the exorcist, this collaboration is not just possible, but necessary. After a first meeting, he advises virtually all of his patients to have a session with a psychiatrist if they have not done so before coming to him. The psychiatrist then submits a report to the exorcist. “It is not a matter of placing my work and the psychiatrist’s work on the same plane. We work on different levels and with a different expertise, each referring to our own professional competence. But the goal of our intervention is the same: to help a person feel better.” The idea of ‘working on different levels’ often returns during the interviews. According to the exorcist, this is the fundamental premise for a fruitful collaboration between the two types of expertise. Of course, both parties must be open- minded and have respect for the other’s work. “It would be ridiculous for the psychiatrist to want to be an exorcist and the same applies to the exorcist claiming to be a psychiatrist.” When we asked about the misunderstandings that such a collaboration might engender, we were told it is undeniably much more normal for someone to see a psychiatrist than an exorcist, but a patient who consults an exorcist is entitled to be taken seriously. The exorcist also said: “It is not essential for the psychiatrists to believe in God, nor must they necessarily believe in the existence of the Devil. For a collaboration to be possible, they just need to acknowledge the limits of their work, and not claim to know everything, or to be capable of solving every problem.”
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It is important to bear in mind that many of the people who turn to an exorcist have already consulted a psychologist or psychiatrist and, even though they may be taking pharmacological treatment, their physical or psychiatric symptoms have not disappeared. In analyzing the document that the exorcist updates after every meeting with a patient, it was interesting to see that all the medication they were taking (its dosage and duration, its expected and unwanted effects, and any adjustments to the treatment plan) was noted in detail. We were rather curious about this ‘medical’ precision in noting patients’ pharmacological therapies. The exorcist explained: “The help that modern medicine can offer to solve people’s psychic problems is fundamentally important. The help that comes from prayer is also just as essential to deal with cases that medicine is unable to solve.” A little provocatively, we asked which of the two – medication or prayer – was more effective. With no dent in his composure, the exorcist answered: “Medicines are perfect for treating psychiatric diseases, and perfectly useless for treating demonic possession. Vice versa, the rite of exorcism is useful for treating people possessed by the Devil, but even harmful for those who have psychiatric disorders.” Here again, the fundamental issue is discernment: distinguishing psychiatric disease from demonic possession. The former has natural causes that, however complex, can be identified and treated. The latter has supernatural causes against which, according to the exorcist, only the intervention of divine power can be effective. But what are the symptoms that most reliably point to a patient’s condition having supernatural causes? On this point, the exorcist’s writings consistently identify an aversion to all things sacred as being the most important and unequivocal symptom. This aversion may be exhibited in various ways, producing different types of behavior: some people might keep their mouths firmly shut at holy communion when the priest holds out the host; some may react violently to holy water; others may become dangerously aggressive at the sight of the crucifix held by the exorcist as he prays before the patient. Alongside such specifically religious clues, there are also ‘strange things’ that may be suggestive of paranormal phenomena or autosuggestion: doors and windows that open and close by themselves; household objects that move independently of the will of anyone in the room; mysterious voices or the sound of steps in an empty house; the sensation of being watched or touched when there is nobody there; the capacity to speak in tongues; a superhuman strength; or the ability to guess details of the private lives of strangers. Taken alone, such strange things are not enough to say that someone is possessed by the Devil. This certainty comes from various forms of rejection of the sacred. But all these clues point to ‘diseases of the soul’ that demand a pooling of religious knowledge and scientific medical knowledge. For the exorcist to use his collaboration protocol, patients must sign a statement to the effect that the psychiatrist is authorized to provide the exorcist with the information he obtains and his opinion on the case. For his part, the exorcist may provide the psychiatrist with information and his opinion too, but this exchange may be limited, for instance, by the seal of confession. When they meet the exorcist, many patients ask to confess, and useful elements for the purposes of the discernment process may emerge during their confessions. But, as the exorcist explains: “Of
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course, what I hear in confession I can reveal to no-one, not even to the psychiatrist. The seal of confession must be absolute, and any transgression can be reason for excommunication.” We note that this collaboration protocol is therefore not on strictly equal terms: with the patient’s consent, the physician can violate professional rules of secrecy, but the same does not apply to information obtained by the exorcist (during a patient’s confession, at least). With a smile, the exorcist admits that the two parties are not on exactly the same level in his collaboration protocol, because “the exorcist takes action in the name of God, and with a power that is not his own. As a consequence, the final word on the exchange of communications between exorcist and psychoanalyst lies with the former…and anyway, a psychiatrist could never certify to a person being possessed by the Devil.” There is no escaping the fact that the protocol cloaks a mix of communication codes and premises that underscore how the collaboration between our two interviewees demands different levels of mutual adaptation, and the rules of the game are effectively established by the exorcist. This does not mean that the collaboration does not work, or that it cannot arrive at results that – judging from practical experience – can benefit the patient. It is worth noting how, in explaining the discernment process, the exorcist often used a language that mixes the spiritual perspective with the language of psychology, focusing on patients’ well-being, their self-awareness, the space to be given to their daily lives, emotions and feelings. “What we have to bear in mind, when we collaborate with a psychiatrist, is that the goal is a good quality of life for the person asking for our help. In this quality of life, I, as a priest, also include a life free of sin, and free of the influence of the Devil.” This brings to mind what Bellah and colleagues said a few decades ago about a ‘psychological language’ and a ‘therapeutic mentality’ (Bellah et al. 1985). It also makes us think of the changes taking place in the sphere of religion, and what the sociologists have described as a passage from religion to spirituality (Giordan 2007; Heelas and Woodhead 2005). We made the point that the exorcist’s words seemed to echo this psychological language, and asked him whether he felt he might be trespassing in a sphere that was not really his: he almost seemed more concerned with his patients’ well-being in this world than with saving their souls for eternity. Once again, he seemed unruffled by our suggestion and said: “This is an accusation that I have often heard from many other priests, but I believe there is no difference between health and salvation. The health of a person as a whole includes their salvation too, because they cannot be well unless they achieve a balance between mind, body and spirit. Those who say this is a ‘new age’ approach have misunderstood Jesus’s message.” After our several interviews with the exorcist, we are led to suspect that his collaboration with the psychiatrist is only possible because their languages often overlap and blend. Any confusion would seem to be overcome by adopting a criterion of practical efficacy: this collaboration is possible because it works. Application to the concepts of the quality of life, integrity of human life, religious morality, well-being, eternity, salvation, body, and spirit indicate that the exorcist in his diagnosis and treatment combined the symptoms and conditions of both religious and medical fields. Based on his experience as a religious expert, he
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reproduces the social practices and language of a legitimate attitude towards treating the Devil; however he establishes a particular hierarchy of relationship between exorcism and psychiatric treatment. The exclusive monopoly on exorcizing a patient is in his competence and the medical expert does not control it. The autonomy of the religious field is based on drawing the boundaries between the areas of expertise.
6.4 The Diagnosis: Interview with the Psychiatrist Although it was the exorcist who introduced us, and we had met the psychiatrist together with the exorcist before meeting him alone, our first interview with the psychiatrist was rather strained. He seemed to suspect that we would ridicule his collaboration with the exorcist, possibly exposing critical issues that he himself saw in his work at the interface between science and religion. He was also worried that something of our conversation might find its way to the media, and this could have made things difficult for him, given his professional standing in the area where he works. Once we had convinced him that our sole objective was to understand how his work could help patients seeking to flush out the presence of the Devil, our interviews went smoothly, though the psychiatrist remained somewhat suspicious about our motives. What may have contributed to making our first encounter rather difficult was a question that we worded in an unwittingly provocative manner: “How can psychiatry diagnose the presence of the Devil in a person?” The psychiatrist’s response was quick and decisive: “Psychiatry does not diagnose the presence of the Devil because the existence of the Devil is only a question of faith, not an objective issue that can be demonstrated scientifically. Psychiatry is a science, the Devil is a religious belief.” So then we asked how it was possible for a psychiatrist and an exorcist to work together. In particular, how could a physician agree to write a report on a patient knowing that it would be used by an exorcist to decide whether or not the patient was possessed by the Devil. Several times in the course of our interviews, the psychiatrist returned to certain concepts: the differential diagnosis; reference to the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM) of the American Psychiatric Association (1994, 2000, 2013); the integrated approach; and the therapeutic alliance. The psychiatrist explained that the first way he, as a physician, can help the exorcist is by ruling out the possibility of a patient’s symptoms having psychiatric causes. In his view, achieving this result already enables a distinction between patients who might be possessed and those who are definitely not possessed by the Devil. “Understanding whether certain symptoms, such as panic attacks or forms of delirium, are attributable to psychiatric causes enables us to rule out the need for any further investigations on the part of the exorcist from the start. Of course, it is not up to me to say whether or not there is a Devil involved… What I can say is that, using the tools of science at my disposal at this time, I can explain some symptoms, but not others.”
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We counter that the simple fact that he cannot explain certain symptoms does not automatically mean they might be attributable to supernatural beings. There are other phenomena that appear to defy certain laws of physics, or that we see as contrasting with the laws of science, and that might be attributed to the world of the paranormal too. “There is no question that what we succeed in explaining scientifically today is only a part of what we will succeed in explaining scientifically tomorrow or the next day… But some phenomena, even in our own psyche, can be attributed to the influence of mysterious forces.” Here the psychiatrist mentioned the DSM, saying that even the American Psychiatric Association does not rule out the possibility of psychiatric phenomena being caused by mysterious spiritual entities. He suggested that such cases could also include demonic possession. The story of the possible inclusion of a diagnostic category of ‘dissociative trance disorder’ in the DSM is rather complicated, but the proposal to include it was ultimately rejected because not enough studies sustaining its validity had been conducted. As Innamorati et al. demonstrated (2018), numerous hypotheses have been built on this misunderstanding, not only by exorcists, but also by psychologists and psychiatrists (Amorth 1990, 1996; de Filippis 2002; Ferracuti 2002). Our interviewee was well aware of the troubled history of the category of ‘dissociative trance disorder’ in the various editions of the DSM, and rather surprised that we knew about it too. He saw its exclusion from the DSM as “the outcome of an old-fashioned ideological battle, founded on the prejudice that relegates anything that cannot be explained scientifically to the realms of magical ignorance.” In his opinion, this approach is typical of medical positivism, and puts its supporters in a difficult position, as they must somehow pretend to be capable of classifying every type of psychiatric disease, whereas in reality this is not always the case. We asked the psychiatrist why he feared that his collaboration with the exorcist might be made public beyond the closed circle of patients referred to him by the priest. He was acutely aware that such a collaboration could make his colleagues question his credibility as a physician. He admitted that this worried him, but he also felt sure that his work was very useful to the patients involved. With a good dose of pragmatism, he said that he, too, initially had his doubts about the utility and advisability of collaborating with an exorcist. Then a particularly touching experience made him put aside his concerns and hesitation. “I remember a young patient referred to me by the exorcist in the early stages of our collaboration, a professional woman at the start of what seemed a very promising career. She came to me in tears, pleading with me to help because she was ill, very ill, and could carry on no longer. She had no physical problems and, from the relational standpoint, at work, at home and in her free time, she had a satisfactory lifestyle with the usual problems of all normal people. I thought she might be suffering from a depression for which I was unable to establish a cause… It seemed impossible for such a ‘normal’ person to be feeling so ill for reasons that I could not identify. I remember as if it were yesterday when she tearfully pleaded with me: ‘Please make me well. I beg of you, please make me well! I don’t know if it’s the Devil or if I’m going mad, but please make me better.” What impressed him was that this patient spoke to him using the plural, meaning that she was speaking to both the psychiatrist and the exorcist. In her suffering, she drew no distinctions between their
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fields of expertise. “In her need to be well, that young woman granted equal dignity to the psychiatrist and the exorcist… From then on, I stopped wondering about the ideological issue of my collaboration with the priest.” The psychiatrist’s narrative reflects the holistic approach already apparent in our interviews with the exorcist. The focus is ultimately on the well-being of an individual, seen as a unity of mind, body, and spirit, and that is why the psychiatrist’s professional involvement seems to make sense. One of the pillars of his work is the ‘integrated approach,’ in which different types of expertise can join forces without prejudice, and with mutual respect, to improve a patient’s well-being. This integrated approach is founded on a ‘therapeutic alliance’ that involves the patient, the patient’s family, and the physician – and may involve an exorcist priest too. Widening the discussion to the relationship between religion and science, the psychiatrist said he did not see any incompatibility between the two settings. On the contrary, his experience prompted him to say that there can be a “fruitful exchange” between them. In his view, religion can be a meaningful resource for people who have difficulty bearing the burden of life. Only half jokingly, he added: “When a person prays and feels that the suffering they experience can have a meaning, then even psychoactive drugs become more effective! Prayer is not just an expression of the soul, it is also an expression of the mind… I’m perfectly aware of moving in a very dangerous border zone, constantly exposed to the risk of being misinterpreted and instrumentalized, but I can assure you that what I say comes from experience with practical cases, people with names and faces.” While emphasizing several times that it is not for him to say whether or not a patient is possessed by the Devil, and therefore not for him to say whether the Devil is a metaphor or a real, concrete presence, his activity leads him to claim that some situations cannot be explained or solved by science, and that there is something supernatural that is somehow capable of influencing what happens in nature. The psychiatrist’s comment about the possible lessening of trust in him from a professional community is an important issue if we apply the theories of Bourdieu and Goffman to the analysis of the diagnostic process. The exchange of legitimacy can affect the monopoly and the status of the expert both in religious and medical spheres. The psychiatrist took into consideration the absence of particular medical knowledge and the way the patient integrated religious and psychological problems. The objective structure and the rules of the medical field (with its gaps in knowledge) and the subjective patient’s ability to merge the meaning of the religious and psychiatric fields point to an interesting conclusion. While the subjective (patient’s) and objective (religious and scientific) structuring and differentiation of the social fields do not coincide, the monopoly on restructuring the relationship between them devolves to the experts. Both experts keep some independence from each other in designating the boundary, which Bourdieu described as the boundary established by knowledge and its absence. At the same time, the monopoly on the final decision of who has the competence for the treatment is unclear. If there is a process of differentiation of religion and science at the level of social structures, and this process does not fully follow the same logic at the individual level, the legitimate way to decide about this division is taken by the experts, while the role of the individual remains uncertain.
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6.5 Conclusion During the two meetings that we had all together, both the psychiatrist and the exorcist emphasized that their approach is pragmatic, not ideological. The chorus line of their narrative was: “Our collaboration is possible because it works. We have made people feel better, and that is why we will carry on with our experience.” The two share the idea that, both on the side of science and on that of religion, they need to believe: the psychiatrist believes his approach is effective, and so does the exorcist. The exorcist speaks of supernatural forces, with the Devil on the one hand and an all-powerful God capable of freeing the possessed on the other. The psychiatrist limits himself to treating psychiatric disorders after seeking out their natural causes. In their narratives, both speak of ‘diseases of the soul,’ and this seems to suffice to justify their collaboration protocol. In many respects, they engage in a sort of role- play: the psychiatrist is convinced that not everything he sees in his patients can be reduced to a psychiatric disorder; and the exorcist is sure that only a very few of those who believe they are possessed are true cases of demonic possession. It is fairly obvious that knowledge and the epistemological picture each has of the other serves a mutually legitimizing purpose. Through his collaboration with a psychiatrist, the exorcist’s professionalism is acknowledged, releasing him from the caricature of a “strange being, half wizard, half madman” (Amorth 1996). By collaborating with the exorcist, the psychiatrist seems to open up opportunities to manage cases that he would otherwise be unable to solve. As they move between medical diagnostics and religious discernment, both are aware that their collaboration involves walking a very fine line. The collaboration protocol adopted by the exorcist and the psychiatrist should logically lead to the nature of a patient’s discomfort being identified, and to the patient pursuing a path of treatment with one or other of the two experts. In actual fact, the situation is rather more complex. In most cases, both the priest and the physician continue to intervene in parallel, each with their own tools, for months and sometimes even years. This gives us the impression that religious discernment and medical diagnostics may well support one another in making their intervention credible, but that they have difficulty in arriving at a definitive answer on the nature of a patient’s problem. This uncertainty in defining only one cause in the diagnostic process is also supported by the patient’s inability to distinguish spiritual from psychological problems without professional assistance. Meanwhile, both the religious and the medical experts defined the spheres of their monopoly. The exchange of legitimacy between the exorcist and the psychiatrist created a space of mutual recognition of expertise, and at the same time, the autonomy of the religious and scientific fields derives from two different sources of authority. While the exorcist refers to the transcendent and divine, the psychiatrist refers to the professional community and scientific knowledge, and the patient is open to both experiences. Thus, in the process of medicalization of body and soul, the decisions of the two experts become crucial for the individual’s treatment. At the same time, the distribution of power and the positioning in the symbolic and social fields of the religious and medical
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experts is dependent on their status as professionals, which must primarily be recognized in each field independently. The division of the experts’ competences and the role of the patient in the process of diagnosing the influence of the Devil allows us to distinguish at least three levels of analysis – the structural level of society, the level of religious and medical expertise, and the individual level of the patient. Each level suggested a particular configuration for the relationship between religion and science, and the background narrative for all three levels, which we observed in the context of Italian society, was the subjective well-being of the patient. As Bourdieu (1971) noted, the psychological and personal function of religion has to be seen together with the structure of relationships in other fields; he stated that among the forms of religious practice, systems of beliefs, and specific religious interests of clients in a discrete historical period, we can observe a harmony, which has to be sociologically explored. That harmony rests on particular mechanisms of exchange of legitimacy between the religious and the medical fields, with mutual recognition and autonomy, but it is also interwoven with the other symbolic fields of society. Thus, the sociological analysis of this case requires further study of the relationship between religion and science through the rationalization and differentiation paradigms, adding to that analysis of exchange of legitimacy also economic and cultural conditions and gender issues.
References Acquaviva, S. S. (1961). L’eclissi del sacro nella società industriale: dissacrazione e secolarizzazione nella società industriale e post-industriale. Milano: Edizioni di Comunità. American Psychiatric Association. (1994). Diagnostic and statistical manual of mental disorders, Fourth edition (DSM-IV). Washington: APA. American Psychiatric Association. (2000). Diagnostic and statistical manual of mental disorders, Fourth edition, Text revision (DSM-IV-TR). Washington: APA. American Psychiatric Association. (2013). Diagnostic and statistical manual of mental disorders, Fifth edition (DSM-V). Washington: APA. Amorth, G. (1990). Un esorcista racconta. Roma: Edizioni Dehoniane. Amorth, G. (1996). Nuovi racconti di un esorcista. Roma: Edizioni Dehoniane. Amorth, G. (2000). Esorcisti e psichiatri. Bologna: Edizioni Dehoniane. Babolin, S. (2014). L’esorcismo. Ministero della consolazione. Padova: Edizioni Messaggero. Bamonte, F. (2006). Possessioni diaboliche ed esorcismo. Milano: Paoline. Bellah, R., Masden, R., Sullivan, W. M., Swidler, A., & Tipton, S. M. (1985). Habits of the heart. Individualism and commitment in American life. Oakland: University of California Press. Bourdieu, P. (1971). Genèse et structure du champ religieux. Revue Française de Sociologie, 12(3), 295–334. Brody, H. (2003). Stories of sickness. New York: Oxford University Press. Burkhart, L., & Hogan, N. (2008). An experiential theory of spiritual care in nursing practice. Qualitative Health Research, 18(7), 928–938. Cadge, W. (2013). Paging god: Religion in the halls of medicine. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Cadge, W., Ecklund, E. H., & Short, N. (2009). Religion and spirituality: A barrier and a bridge in the everyday professional work of pediatric physicians. Social Problems, 56(4), 702–721.
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Casanova, J. (1994). Public religions in the modern world. Chicago: Chicago University Press. Cini Tassinaro, A. (1984). Il diavolo secondo l’insegnamento recente della chiesa. Roma: Pontificio Ateneo Antoniano. de Filippis, C. (2002). Alcune considerazioni sulla demonopatia. In T. Cantelmi (Ed.), Gli dei morti sono diventati malattie. Cassino: EDT. Ellenberger, H. F. (1970). The discovery of the unconscious. The history and evolution of dynamic psychiatry. New York: Basic Books. Ferracuti, S. (2002). Aspetti clinici, psicometrici e psichiatrico-forensi del disturb dissociativo da trans. In T. Cantelmi (Ed.), Gli dei morti sono diventati malattie. Cassino: EDT. Giordan, G. (2007). Spirituality: From a religious concept to a sociological theory. In K. Flanagan & P. C. Jupp (Eds.), A sociology of spirituality (pp. 161–180). Aldershot: Ashgate. Giordan, G., & Possamai, A. (2016a). Branding the devil in new age and Catholicism: A sociology of exorcism. Religioni e Società, 86, 90–96. Giordan, G., & Possamai, A. (2016b). The over-policing of the devil: A sociology of exorcism. Social Compass, 63(4), 444–460. Giordan, G., & Possamai, A. (2018a). Mastering the devil. A sociological analysis of the practice of a Catholic exorcist. Current Sociology, 66(1), 74–91. Giordan, G., & Possamai, A. (2018b). Sociology of exorcism in late modernity. Cham: Palgrave Macmillan. Goffman, E. (1961). Asylums. Essays on the social situation of mental patients and other inmates. New York: Anchor Books. Goffman, E. (1963). Stigma. London: Penguin. Gozzelino, G. (2000). Angeli e demoni. L’invisibile creato e la vicenda umana. Cinisello Balsamo: Edizioni San Paolo. Grant, D., Sallaz, J., & Cain, C. (2016). Bridging science and religion: How health-care workers as storytellers construct spiritual meanings. Journal for the Scientific Study of Religion, 55(3), 465–484. Hacking, I. (1995). Rewriting the soul. Multiple personality and the sciences of memory. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Heelas, P., & Woodhead, L. (2005). The spiritual revolution. Why religion is giving way to spirituality. Oxford: Blackwell. Herman, C. (2006). Development and testing of the spiritual needs inventory for patients near the end of life. Oncology Nursing Forum, 33(4), 737–744. Innamorati, M., Taradel, R., & Foschi, R. (2018). Psicopatologia e demonologia. La diagnosi di possessione nel corso del XX secolo. Psicoterapia e Scienze Umane, 52(1), 31–46. Laurentin, R. (1995). Le démon, mythe ou réalité? Enseignement et expérience du Christ et de l’Eglise. Paris: Fayard. Rousseau, P. (2000). Spirituality and the dying patient. Journal of Clinical Oncology, 18(9), 2000–2002. Salvucci, R. (2000). Cosa fare con questi diavoli? Indicazioni pastorali di un esorcista. Milano: Ancora. Young, F. (2016). A history of exorcism in Catholic Christianity. Cambridge: Palgrave. Zimbardo, P. G. (2007). The Lucifer effect: Understanding how good people turn evil. New York: Random House.
Chapter 7
Doing Battle with the Forces of Darkness in a Secularized Society Deirdre Meintel and Guillaume Boucher Abstract Our contribution is based on fieldwork in the province of Québec, Canada among Catholic charismatics and Spiritualists. We examine the spiritual resources they offer to combat the unwanted presence of Satan, negative entities or other maleficent beings. We will first describe the religious landscape of present-day Quebec. We will then describe the practices around exorcism in Spiritualist and Catholic Charismatic milieux, taking into account their performative aspects, their relationship with healing practices, and how exorcists negotiate the boundary between the work of evil entities and psychological issues. After looking at the convergences between the two currrents as we observed them, we address the question of the relationship between the growing demand for exorcism in Québec, as elsewhere, and the secularization of the wider society. Keywords Charismatic renewal · Spiritualism · Quebec · Deliverance · Discernment · Satan · Ritual · Evil entities
7.1 Introduction It seems strange, at first glance, that in an era marked by the decline of religious attendance, the demand for exorcisms should increase. Such is the case in Québec, Canada, the site of our research. In this traditionally Catholic, French-speaking province, religious attendance is the lowest in Canada, and far lower than in the United States; only 8% of the population attend a religious service each week. Yet according to the Catholic and Protestant clergy interviewed in our broad study, detailed below, the demand for exorcism has increased greatly in recent decades. In this regard, Québec is far from unique. Giordan and Possamai (2017, p. 2) have noted the increase in belief in the Devil in the US, while news reports across Europe
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confirm the rise in the demand for exorcisms,1 and some reports speak of a three- fold rise in the demand for Catholic exorcisms. Because of this increased demand, the Vatican now offers an annual course for exorcists, having recognized an International Association of Exorcists in 2014; the course is attended mostly by priests but also by a few laymen and women.2 Here we will examine exorcism in two religious currents we have studied, which have seen increased demand for it in recent years, Spiritualism and the Catholic Charismatic Renewal (Renouveau charismatique). However, as we will show, the two are not completely separate. The Renouveau charismatique, which is the subject of Guillaume Boucher’s (2013) fieldwork, is the Catholic current where exorcisms and a related but distinct activity, deliverance, are most often performed; a priest he has interviewed a number of times has often acted as an exorcist and has long been associated with a Charismatic group in Montreal. Justine Louis (2007)3 observes that phenomena such as visions, spiritual healing, glossolalia, prophecy and clairvoyance are generally regarded with suspicion within Catholicism. However, all are part of the Charismatic Renewal; in this regard, both the currents we are examining share similar sensitivity to an invisible world and the spiritual gifts that allow contact with it. Both currents resist a purely psychological reading of human distress and suffering and accept the existence of evil entities, this in contrast with much of mainstream Catholicism (Louis 2007, p. 185). Spiritualism arose out of Protestant tradition. However, those who frequent the church in Montreal that Deirdre Meintel has followed for many years, the Spiritual Church of Healing (SCH),4 are mostly of Catholic background, as is the pastor, ‘Michel.’ The Catholic religious imaginary is alive and well in this congregation (Meintel 2011), where mediums frequently make mention of Catholic religious figures who are venerated by many in the group: for example, the Virgin Mary, Saint Brother André, Saint Joseph, Padre Pio. Most of the members keep some contact with the Catholic Church, attending Catholic services from time to time, visiting Catholic sites of pilgrimage or making a retreat in a Catholic convent or monastery. One of the most involved women in this church was an active participant in Catholic Charismatic services before joining the Spiritualist Church.5 In reality, those who frequent both groups mostly identify as Catholic. The Spiritualist Church reflects the current religious situation in Québec among old- stock French speaking Québecois, where those who identify as Catholic often seek 1 See https://www.express.co.uk/news/world/924168/exorcism-vatican-italy-demons-GabrieleAmorth-requests-for-help-triples Accessed 13 November 2018. 2 https://www.nytimes.com/2018/04/19/world/europe/exorcism-catholic-church.html Accessed 13 November 2018. 3 Louis, J. (2007). L’Église catholique face a l’extraordinaire chretien depuis Vatican II. Unpublished doctoral dissertation, Institut d’Histoire du Christianisme, Université Jean Moulin – Lyon3. Lyon, France. 4 All names of individuals and religious groups used herein are pseudonyms. 5 Membership does not concern religious identity (most in the group would say they are Catholic) but is, rather, a form of support for the Church.
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spiritual resources outside the Catholic faith. Individuals of Catholic background, who are seeking help to rid themselves of negative spirits, often solicit Michel’s help, sometimes after approaching the diocese or parish priests without success. At the same time, the mediumnic practices current among Spiritualists – SCH services feature various forms of clairvoyance, and more rarely, channelling – are often seen by Catholic exorcists as creating the need for exorcism or, in less serious cases, deliverance. In what follows, we first situate the contemporary religious landscape in Québec in its historical context and then describe the wider study within which the research presented here was largely carried out. After that, we take a closer look at how battle is waged with negative spiritual forces in each current. We will show that despite the fact that most Charismatic Catholics would see Spiritualism as ‘esoteric’ and thus spiritually dangerous, there is considerable convergence in the two religions in beliefs around exorcism. Finally, we will look at why negative spiritual forces are so problematic in secularized societies such as Québec.
7.2 Religions in Québec Today Both the Charismatic Renewal and Spiritualism appeared in Québec around the time of the ‘Quiet Revolution’ (la Révolution tranquille), a time of dramatic social change in the province (1960–1966) marked by rapid, if tardy, secularization, when the State took over the social welfare, education, and health systems that had been mostly under the control of the Catholic Church. Meanwhile, the religious practice of the Catholic faithful was rapidly declining (Linteau et al. 1989, p. 336) and the ranks of the clergy and other religious devotees were depleted. As the political system became liberalized in the 1960s, Québec society became thoroughly secularized and far more open to religious diversity. Until then, those who adhered to religions other than Catholicism and mainstream Protestantism risked social and professional ostracism, while Jews suffered considerable discrimination. The Catholic clergy controlled the books that were sold in the province into the 1940s (Lemire 1995, p. XV). Spiritualism appeared in Montreal in the early 1960s and the Catholic Charismatic Renewal in the early 1970s. The Spiritualist Church of Healing was founded in 1965 by a missionary couple from England, and a few years later was put in the charge of its current pastor, Michel. The prayer center studied by Guillaume Boucher was founded in 1976 and has remained active ever since, while many other French-speaking Charismatic Renewal groups dissolved. Since the 1980s, though, the Charismatic Renewal has been bolstered by the arrival of Latin American Charismatic Catholics. The new climate of religious freedom created by the Quiet Revolution has made for an ever more diversified religious landscape. Places of worship in the province, especially in cities (Germain and Gagnon 2003), have multiplied. Some of the new diversity is due to immigration; the Muslim population has been growing due to the
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selection process favoring immigrants from French speaking countries and now makes up 3.1% of the Québec population. Yet Christians are still the largest religious category among immigrants to Canada, and among them, Catholics are the largest religious group (Statistics Canada 2011). The mobility of native-born as well as new media influences have also contributed to Québec’s diversified religious landscape. Some Québecois have converted to Islam or to Evangelical religions, but many more have been attracted to yogic spiritualities such as Kundalini, Vipassana and Ashtanga, or to nature-centered currents such as Druidism, Indigenous inspired shamanism, Wicca and so on. Note that, like Spiritualism, none of these spiritualities require conversion, so that those brought up Catholic sometimes retain certain elements of Catholic identity and religious observance. We will next describe our research and then briefly discuss how maleficent spirits manifest and are driven out in the various religious currents we studied, before turning to a more in-depth discussion of such phenomena in Spiritualist and Catholic Charismatic groups.
7.3 The Research Our chapter is based partly on the results of interdisciplinary team research on religious groups in Québec, directed by Deirdre Meintel, and of which Guillaume Boucher was a regional coordinator. Around the time the research began, Québec was riven by heated social debates about immigrant religiosity, centered on visible symbols such as the Muslim veil and the Sikh turban and kirpan. Much was being said about religious diversity that was based on personal impressions rather than empirical data. We sought to document religious diversity and the role of religion in migrant resettlement and, more generally, to better understand the place that religion (or spirituality) holds in the lives of people living in the modern, secularized society that is Québec. The researchers and assistants (about 40 in all) came from various Québec universities.6 The study (2007–2015) was conducted in two phases: the first mainly in Montreal and the second in various regions of the province, including Saguenay (6 h by car from Montreal), Estrie, Lanaudière, and Basses-Laurentides (all about an hour-and-a-half’s drive from Montreal). Of the 232 groups studied, 81 were studied in depth. The more extended studies were based on participant observation carried out over several months, along with formal and informal interviews with leaders Researchers included Khadiyatoulah Fall, Sylvie Fortin, Claude Gélinas, François Gauthier, Josiane Le Gall, Deirdre Meintel (dir.), Géraldine Mossière, John Leavitt, and Fernand Ouellet. We are grateful for the financial support of the Fonds de recherche du Québec – Société et culture (Québec) and of the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council (Canada). We also express gratitude to Stéfan Thériault and to those we identify here as Father Lemieux, Father Leduc and Michel. 6
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and members of the groups. Groups studied were from currents that were established in Québec since the 1960s by immigrants (for example, Islam, Hinduism, certain forms of Buddhism, Evangelical and Pentecostal Christianity) or by native- born Québecois (Druidism, Wicca, neoshamanic and yogic spiritualities). We also included groups from innovative currents in established religions (reconstructionist and messianic Judaism, Charismatic Catholicism), as well as more classic congregations composed mostly of immigrants (Chinese Presbyterians, for example). In the team study, standardized research tools (interview formats, observation grids) were adapted to each group from the core of the methodology. Assistants observed religious rituals and other religious activities, such as neighborhood prayer groups, as well as social activities involving members, and at least one leader on their personal and religious trajectories, the role of the religious group in their everyday lives, and, when relevant, religious activities related to other religions. Our methodology, strongly influenced by approaches variously termed ‘phenomenological,’ ‘experiential,’ or ‘experience-near,’7 gave central place to the voice of the actors and their embodied experiences. By applying the same tools to a wide variety of religious groups, we sought to avoid some of the possible biases of an experience- centered approach. Among the principal findings of the team study was the individualization of religion that has been observed elsewhere,8 including circulation among different religious currents (often without formal conversion), hybrid spiritual practices and eclectic beliefs. Moreover, the centrality of healing and embodied experience that characterizes Spiritualists and Charismatic Catholics appears true of many other spiritual currents as well. The analysis presented in this chapter is also based on our individual research. Meintel’s work on the Spiritual Church of Healing was mostly carried out between 2000 and 2007 and is supplemented by her and other’s observations of the five other Spiritualist groups in Montreal; she continues regular observations in the SCH and has conducted many formal and informal interviews with its pastor and exorcist, ‘Michel.’ Boucher’s study of the Charismatic Renewal Center began with the team study; he continued to do independent research at the Center for another year. Since then he has on numerous occasions interviewed the priest who founded the charismatic prayer center and worked in the Deliverance Ministry there for 15 years, ‘Father Leclerc,’ as well as an exorcist priest whom he met at the same center, ‘Father Leduc.’ He has developed contacts with Charismatic Catholics in other parts of the province.
For example: Goulet (1998); McGuire (2008); Turner (1996). For example: France (Hervieu-Léger 1999); the United States (McGuire 2008); Italy (Giordan 2009); Switzerland (Campiche 1997). 7 8
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7.4 Combatting Evil Entities in Québec Before we look more closely at exorcism among the Spiritualists and Charismatic Catholics we studied, we propose to look at the broader panorama within which they are situated. Our team research found that many groups held beliefs in Satan and/or other maleficent spirits, most notably Pentecostal Churches. These churches may comprise native-born Québecois, Africans, Latin Americans, Filipinos, Chinese or other immigrants. Most often, they are an ethnic mix and, typically, groups from the same world region with a common language, but sometimes they include individuals from disparate cultures and language groups. Many religious groups – Pentecostal and others – see Satan (also known as the Devil or the Evil One) and sometimes other demons as being able to incorporate into human beings and cause distress (without necessarily resulting in full-blown possession). The signs of their presence include a wide range of disturbances, including illness, emotional distress, or obstacles in the immigration process. In some Catholic Charismatic and Pentecostal groups we studied, individuals afflicted by such beings have been known to go into convulsions after prayers or blessing. Such manifestations are sometimes seen as indications that an evil spirit seeks to leave the afflicted person; in other cases, what are considered ‘excessive’ charismatic manifestations are seen as a sign of possession or at least as a window of opportunity for Satan; for example, a Seventh Day Adventist pastor identifies behavior he sees as ‘too charismatic’ (such as falling into a trance or shouting – both normalized in Pentecostal groups) with Vaudou (Voodoo). The causes of demonic influence are various; in many cases they are associa ted with sexual deviation or esoteric practices, these last being defined in different ways from one group to another, as we will see when we examine the Spiritualist and Charismatic Renewal cases more closely. In some instances, yoga and holistic health approaches are seen as ‘esoteric’ and spiritually dangerous, while in others, they are considered harmless or even beneficial. In most cases, afflicted individuals are seen as having ‘opened the door’ to evil forces, though all currents seem to agree that ancestors of or individuals close to the afflicted person may be at fault. As we shall see in regard to Catholic Charismatics and Spiritualists, there are different degrees of negative spiritual ‘infestation,’ calling for different modes of treatment. The term ‘deliverance’ is used in Pentecostal Churches, as it is by the Charismatics, to refer to combat with demonic forces; deliverance rituals can be built into regular church services or may take a whole night or even several days. Typically, these are conducted by those trained to do them, often lay people, whereas only priests designated by the diocese can perform exorcisms.
7.5 The Charismatic Renewal Center The Metropolitan Charismatic Prayer Center (MCPC) was founded in 1976, at a time when the Renewal was flourishing in Québec. In 1979, there were 822 prayer groups with 38,083 members (Chagnon 1979, pp. 10–11). However, by the 1990s,
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numbers had rapidly declined and many groups were dissolved. The MCPC became a central gathering place for Charismatic Catholics in Québec, particularly among native-born French speakers. Today the Center includes some 60 volunteers, mostly between 50 and 75 years of age, who include a number of priests. About two-thirds of the volunteers are women. Mass and adoration of the Blessed Sacrament are held daily, along with a Mass celebrated by a priest associated with the Center; two lay persons assist in the laying on of hands before Mass. Evenings of prayer followed by a Mass are held on Sunday, and twice during the week, along with 24 h of adoration on the first Friday of the month. Normally about 30 people participate in the daily services, where the first hour and a half is given over to hymns, chants, and spontaneous prayers. The second part is a regular Mass. Once a month, healing ministries are held, where volunteers help with the laying on of hands, more time being given to this activity than at the prayer evenings. Normally, volunteers work in teams of two or more in the laying on of hands. Retreats are held a few times a year and attract hundreds of participants from all walks of life. Many have had problems with different kinds of dependence (for example, on drugs, alcohol or gambling), women somewhat more than men. Most participants are around 40 years old, but those who seek interior healing are somewhat younger. Themes vary depending on the guest speakers, who are usually priests associated with the Charismatic Renewal. Workshops allowing participants to learn more about charismas such as glossolalia or the laying on of hands are held during the retreat.
7.6 Priest and Exorcist Father Leduc, 42 years old, was born in a working-class neighborhood in central Montreal. His family were not particularly observant Catholics and, as a child, he did not enjoy catechism classes, which until 2008 were taught in the Québec public school system. However, after a spiritual awakening at the age of 12, he began to go to the neighborhood parish church on his own. He discovered the Charismatic Renewal through a woman he met at the age of 15. After high school, he entered the seminary, but left 3 years later due to a personality conflict with the director. After that he lived with a girlfriend for 3 years but ended the relationship because he realized that he still had doubts about his vocation: he had not completely given up on the priesthood. A year later, when a new director arrived at the seminary, he returned to complete his training. Once ordained, he became interested in exorcism, following in the footsteps of a great-uncle who was a priest and exorcist, and began to officiate at deliverance services for the Charismatic Renewal. Eventually he became the unofficial exorcist for the diocese of Montreal. Priests who carry out exorcisms can do so only with the permission of the bishop, “the first exorcist of the diocese,” as Father Leduc puts it. In practice, though, few bishops perform exorcisms themselves. By Father Leduc’s account, most exorcists
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learn through experience in the field, where the big issue is discernment: “You don’t learn discernment in books or in class.” Father Leduc continued in this work for 4 years on his own and with no official recognition until, because of a family tragedy, he was unable to continue. He still carries out exorcism and deliverance rituals, but only for those whom he meets in the Charismatic network or in the course of his normal priestly duties and he no longer accepts referrals from the diocese. He finds that the Charismatic Renewal is closely related to his work as an exorcist; he believes that this spiritual current, especially as it has evolved in Québec, has developed a special expertise in the healing of the spirit, particularly among priests like himself who work in prayer and retreat centers. Moreover, he believes, the Renewal is open to the Holy Spirit, and understands spiritual reality: “It operates in the same field as does exorcism.”
7.7 The Reality of Satan For the exorcist, spiritual combat is real and concerns everyone, though many people are unaware of it. Moreover, Satan and his fellow demons are real, personal beings, just like angels, and cause people great suffering. Unfortunately, from Father Leduc’s point of view, bishops often do not believe in the reality of Satan, but rather take him a symbol, something to be explained by psychology. Even if they do believe that demons exist, they are hesitant to dedicate resources to a ministry of exorcism, for fear of how the public and the clergy (not all of whom believe in Satan) might react – fearing that some might find it ‘medieval’ and that it could revive old associations between the Church and what many Québecois refer to as ‘the great darkness,’ ‘la grande noirceur,’ referring to the intellectual and legal strictures of the years before the Quiet Revolution. Moreover, he believes that dioceses are not usually enthusiastic about the Charismatic Renewal. After all, he says: “How can you control the Holy Spirit?” For the faithful who frequent the Center, the Evil One is all too real. A layman in a leadership role holds that “there are priests of the Catholic Church and there are priests of Satan.” And while the Holy Spirit confers gifts on people (that is, charismas), so does Satan. Many find his evil influence behind esoteric practices, including astrology. Everyone, not only the religious, is called upon to be discerning and to examine themselves: do their thoughts come from the angels, from Satan or are they simply human? Satan’s influence, for some, extends to the Church and the falling away of some priests from the true faith. Two laywomen in positions of leadership told Guillaume that “these days, even good priests are involved in esoteric practices,” before concluding that evil influences are now “a cancer on society.”
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7.8 Healing, Deliverance, Exorcism For these Charismatics, healing practices are an important way of combatting Satan’s influence and are closely linked to the practices of deliverance and exorcism. The laying on of hands is available every day at the MCPC for anyone who asks for it. According to the teachings followed in the Center, the person conducting the healing ritual should begin with a few words to say that it is done ‘in the name of God, our Lord, Jesus, our Savior’ or something similar. Normally, the one praying is touching the shoulders of the recipient, though other postures are possible. He or she should ask God to send the Holy Spirit to relieve the recipient’s ills or problems and should give thanks in advance for the healing that will be received. A ritual called the ‘Mass of the Ancestors’ is oriented to liberating those present from the harmful effects of their forbears’ contacts with the occult. The ceremony severs the bond with these ancestors as well as the esoteric influences they have transmitted. It is thought best not to touch people who have been involved with ‘esotericism,’ from fear of what Pope Jean Paul II considered a kind of “communion in sin,” a malignant contagion (Thériault 2014, pp. 4–5). ‘Esotericism’ can include consulting mediums, reading horoscopes, or playing a game of Dungeons and Dragons; even the martial arts are viewed with suspicion.9 When the ritual of deliverance is carried out for such individuals, it is likely to take several sessions. Short of full possession, states of ‘obsession’ (obsessive thoughts, often obscene or blasphemous, that may lead to sin or even suicide) or ‘oppression’ (difficulties with health, relationships, work),10 call for spiritual intervention. This may take the form of deliverance, a ritual often performed by lay persons in the MCPC. The ritual itself is only loosely structured. Henri Lemay, a layman who is a prominent figure in the Charismatic Renewal in Canada and whose works and conferences are followed by members of the MCPC, recommends that volunteers call on the inspiration of the Holy Spirit. However, it is important to establish a relationship with the supplicant, even if the ritual is being performed outside of an ‘inner healing’ retreat. It is also essential to look at factors that may be at work, such as immoral practices, engagement in occult activities, and so on. According to Lemay (2011, pp. 71–79), touching the recipient on the shoulders or the head can speed the demon’s departure (though he says this must be avoided with paranoid schizophrenics, who cannot tolerate such contact). Lay people at the MCPC have often used a ‘Little Exorcism’ prayer composed by Pope Leo XIII in rituals of deliverance. They are encouraged to work in teams
9 This view is not shared by all Catholics. We have met Catholic clergy who express more openness to various types of contact with the world of spirits, as well as two Catholics nuns who opened karate dojos and who see the martial discipline as a valuable tool for developing spirituality. 10 Oppression may spread to people and animals in the environment, in what is called ‘infestation.’
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when they use it and whenever possible to involve a priest. From Father Leduc’s point of view, the lay members of the Center are not always sufficiently trained to implement the spiritual accompaniment that should follow the ritual of deliverance. A laywoman who holds a leadership position at the Center tells of performing rituals of deliverance at her home and even by phone. When she feels blocked, she says, she falls back on the ‘Apostles’ Creed’ and finds it effective. Some priests, and even a local bishop, have called on the MCPC to intervene in cases where they were unsure whether they were dealing with possession. In one such encounter, the coordinator and a team of four, including a priest, prayed over a woman who then proceeded to overturn a large filing cabinet, seemingly with no effort and with a strange light in her eyes. They concluded that the woman was, in fact, possessed and referred her to a monastery. Given how demanding the ministry of deliverance can be, the lay leader often has to limit its activities, to avoid her team’s becoming exhausted. Father Leduc would like more diocesan recognition for this ministry at the Center, as well as for his work as an exorcist, because it would bring resources to filter incoming cases and provide the necessary follow-up catechetical work for recipients. A Catholic exorcism is considered a sacramental activity (though not a sacrament). In all aspects of exorcism and deliverance, traditional Catholic teaching is followed to the letter in the Center. Clergy and lay volunteers (non-Charismatic) working at Saint Joseph’s Oratory in Montreal (a site of pilgrimage founded by Saint Brother André, as Saint André Bessette is known locally) also follow the same directives. Only in the case of exorcism is Satan addressed directly. Even in exorcism, though, too much focus on Satan is generally discouraged. By most accounts, the need for exorcism proper is fairly rare and concerns cases where the individual has lost his or her free will. Those so afflicted are affected in mind and spirit, in their emotions and feelings, and their bodies (pain is often present). Signs that an exorcism is necessary include a person’s speaking foreign and previously unknown languages, displaying unusual physical strength, and revealing things normally unknown to the individual (Thériault 2014, p. 10). In the Charismatic renewal, laymen as well as priests see their combat with Satan as a way of helping those who are suffering. Lemay (2011, p. 76) emphasizes that deliverance is less a combat with the Devil than a form of spiritual care for those in need; as he puts it, “it should be part of a whole set of practices of spiritual care… Deliverance is one point on the spiritual path of the person.” As for exorcism, Father Leduc concurs: “You don’t focus on the Devil so much as on human suffering.” One of his mentors, who worked for a long time in Togo and Haiti, holds that “[i]t is really the fear that has to be exorcized.” Nonetheless, Leduc insists, one must never deny the existence of the Devil because he does really and truly exist. In a later section, we will look at who needs exorcism and why. First though, we will look at how a spiritual evil is dealt with in a Montreal Spiritualist church.
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7.9 Exorcizing Places Father Leduc is skeptical about exorcizing houses, something that has great salience for the Spiritualist exorcist we will present shortly. We know also of another priest who managed to rid an apartment of spirits (not demonic) that had been troubling the occupants. Still another, mentor to Father Leduc, holds that such exorcisms are possible and can be effective. This priest also sends teams of Charismatic volunteers to ‘clean houses’ that are affected. Father Leclerc, spiritual animator at the Center, tells of a woman who was troubled by strange noises in her home. He learned that that there had never been a funeral for her deceased husband. He celebrated a Mass for the man in the widow’s home and the disturbances ceased.
7.10 Support and Discernment Deliverance and exorcism are rituals that ideally are performed with the support of a team, at least in the Catholic tradition. Father Leduc has access to a psychiatrist, a friend and fellow Catholic, but no financial backing to compensate anyone he would like to consult. Like other Catholic exorcists (Chossonery 2000; Sagne 1994), he holds that a support team is essential. For one thing, it is important to make sure that mental illness is not an issue (with or without possession). Lemay encourages the formation of teams for deliverance and healing. This allows for various charismas to be mobilized for this ministry (spiritual authority, discernment, and so on) and can make it more effective. One person in the team should be designated to look after the others and be attentive to any indications that they themselves are being attacked (Lemay 2011, pp. 71–79). Spiritual support is also important. In an inversion of medieval practice, where the supplicant was required to fast (Chave-Mahir 2011), today, according to Father Leduc, it is the exorcist who should do so. However, he can transfer this responsibility to others. “Fortunately,” he says, “there are cloistered nuns who do this for me.” Discernment begins with filtering requests for exorcism. When callers, who may or may not be Catholic, are put in touch with Father Leduc for exorcism, the priest begins by asking questions about what is troubling them, their life story, their moral habits, and whether they have seen a doctor, psychiatrist or other health professional in relation to what they are experiencing. He also asks if they have consulted a priest – which is rarely the case. For Catholics, he asks them to go to confession. Only when the individual has complied with these conditions does he agree to see them. Once face to face with the supplicant, the exorcist asks the person to tell him again what is happening and about his or her life. He may test the person in various ways; if there are signs of repulsion when he mentions Jesus or Mary, for example, the long process of exorcism begins – long, because of the spiritual accompaniment
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involved, that can go on for years. In any case, the priest warns against entering into dialogue with Satan, “because he’s a liar.” Moreover, Satan likes to “waste your time, exhaust you, even outside the ritual.” For example, “the family of the person may start to call you all the time.” Speaking at a Charismatic Renewal congress held in Montreal in 2011, Lemay recounted that, in the earlier days of the Catholic Charismatic Renewal, those carrying out deliverance rituals were obliged to keep a pan handy because vomiting was so frequent among the recipients. These days, those conducting this ministry have more experience; it is an advantage, he says, because this way Satan is deprived of his showcase. Moreover, he admits, some bishops felt things might be going too far and asked for more discernment in how these rituals were carried out. Such discernment now extends to other Charismatic rituals in Québec that are now notably less effervescent than they were in the 1970s and 80s. The work of the founder of the MCPC’s deliverance ministry, Father Lemieux, has evolved in this direction. In the mid-70s, his work in the ministry of deliverance focused on casting away demons, and supplicants often vomited during the ritual. Now he favors evangelization (in the form of listening and spiritual counselling) and confession. That way, he believes, people are better equipped to liberate themselves.
7.11 Spiritualism in Montreal Spiritualism emerged as a religion in the Protestant tradition around the mid- nineteenth century amidst a swirl of spiritual currents such as Swedenborgianism, emphasizing knowledge via trance, and Transcendentalism.11 Its modern beginnings are traced to two sisters, Margaret and Kate Fox, who were living on a farm in Hydesville, New York. The girls established contact with the spirit of a dead man whose bones were eventually discovered in the basement of their house (Nelson 1969). The movement that developed around the Fox sisters, helped along by disaffected Quakers, spread across the United States and across the Atlantic to France, England, and points beyond, influencing French Kardecism, Vietnamese Caodaism, and other religious movements (Braude 2001). Kardecism, or Spiritism, came to Québec later on via French, Portuguese, and in recent years, Brazilian, immigrants. The founding of the SCH in 1965, only 5 years after the first Spiritualist Church was established in Montreal, coincided with Québec’s ‘Quiet Revolution’ and the increased freedom for non-Catholic religious currents that it brought. Those who frequent the SCH do not usually see Spiritualism as a religious identity, but rather as a kind of ‘spirituality’; most still consider themselves Catholic and some continue regular Catholic practice. Most who attend services at the SCH are French speakers who live in Montreal and nearby suburbs. Unlike most Spiritualist groups Swedenborgianism, named for Emanuel Swedenborg (1688–1772) still exists as a religion. Like Spiritualism it emphasizes the eternal life of the human spirit and the validity of all religious faiths. http://www.swedenborg.org/Beliefs.aspx Accessed 13 November 2018.
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in Montreal, the SCH has legal status as a Church, such that its ministers perform marriages, including gay marriages, and can officiate at funerals. They also perform naming ceremonies,12 usually for infants and young children. One sees more immigrants at church activities than earlier in the millennium; Haitians, Latin Americans, Rumanians, Italians, and a few North Africans come to services. Also, the congregation has become younger over the last decade; most attending services are adults under 60, along with a few retirees. Women considerably outnumber men at services, though there are as many men as women among the ministers, mediums, and healers who practice in the SCH. The six Spiritualist groups in Montreal are relatively small; the SCH has 187 members with a much longer mailing list. However, their influence is greater than their numbers would imply. Many non-members frequent their activities and have recourse to them for services such as marriages, clairvoyance and, at least in the case of the SCH, exorcism of individuals and houses. Requests for such rituals often come from non-members who seek to mark these rites of passage in a religious fashion but without constraints as to their religious belonging or practice. Like other Spiritualist groups in Montreal, the SCH struggles with limited means. The group rents a space on two floors in a building situated on a slightly seedy strip of a central artery near a subway station. Rent, heating and air conditioning costs are covered by donations. None of the eight ministers, who include four women, is salaried, nor are the mediums and healers who contribute their efforts at church services. Inside, the decor is simple, adorned with symbols from various religious traditions. A Bible (King James version) is on prominent display, reflecting Spiritualism’s Protestant roots13; a Star of David hangs on the wall, along with paintings of angels and other spirit entities, done in a ‘New Age’ style, as well as one of Jesus. Several portray First Nations (Indigenous) individuals. Decorations embellish the central space for holidays such Valentine’s Day, Mother’s Day, and St. Patrick’s Day, as well as Christmas and Easter. Upstairs, there is a library of Spiritualist writings, a kitchenette and a small office. Here one sees more traditional Catholic images, such as the Sacred Heart, on display. Services include prayers, hymns (mostly French translations of Protestant classics such as ‘Nearer My God to Thee’), and clairvoyant messages given by mediums. A healing service featuring the laying on of hands is held on Sunday (see Meintel 2007 for more details on SCH activities). Closed groups (‘circles’ in classical Spiritualist terminology), directed by one of the ministers (all of whom are mediums) and limited to those registered in the group for the year, meet on a weekly or biweekly basis. In these groups, members practice one or another form of clairvoyance. For example, they might be asked to ‘see’ what several others in the group need on a spiritual or material level. Michel gives a number of messages at the end
When asked why there was no baptism, given that such a ritual exists in the Spiritualist tradition, Michel says, “They’re mostly all baptized already” (i.e. as Catholics). 13 Bible reading is little emphasized in the SCH. Passages from the Bible (in French, no particular translation) are sometimes mentioned in ‘discourses,’ as sermons are called. 12
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of the session in his groups; very occasionally he may channel one of his guides, or several in turn. The basic principles of Spiritualism are the same from one congregation to another, though the vocabulary may vary. These include the existence of God and of angels, individual responsibility for actions committed on Earth and for the consequences of these actions in the afterlife, the continued existence and progress in the afterlife of the human soul, the possibility of communion with spirits, and so on. Two of the six groups in Montreal are particularly Catholic and Francophone in flavor, one of these being the SCH; the other has many services devoted to the Virgin Mary and marks Catholic Saints’ feasts on the calendar featured on its website. The other groups are formally bilingual, but function mainly in English.
7.12 Healer, Medium, Exorcist Michel, a youthful-looking man in his late 60s, was drawn to Spiritualism during the early years of the SCH. When the English missionary couple who founded the Church left Montreal, Michel, still in his twenties, was named pastor. At this point, French became the dominant language in the SCH. Michel, fully bilingual, grew up in working-class neighborhoods in Montreal in a French-speaking family. His father sent him and his four brothers to an English-language school run by the Jesuits, hoping this would ensure their upward mobility. After studying in an Englishlanguage university, Michel worked in finance and still does accounting on a parttime basis. Widowed in his mid-twenties, later divorced, he is now married to a Spiritualist minister and medium active in the SCH. As a young boy, Michel was very interested in religion and was already questioning notions such as that missing Mass once on a Sunday would condemn a person to hell. As he grew older, his questions often irritated the priests teaching him. He came to find the Catholic Church too authoritarian; however, he continues to believe in many Catholic teachings. Prayer is a very important part of his life; he prefers prayer to meditation because for him, “prayer is transmitting, while meditation is receiving.” He often prays for several hours in the middle of the night. Michel’s mother was Belgian and he was very close to her father, who was known as a powerful healer. Michel believes that his grandfather, long deceased, has helped him every step of the way in his development as a medium, healer and exorcist. (Note that Michel would not call himself a healer; in the SCH, all speak of ‘transmitting’ healing, not of ‘performing’ it.) In his early twenties, he hung out with countercultural types, including American draft dodgers. “No drugs,” he says, “I was into sports.” He learned of the SCH from an ad in an English-language newspaper. A few months later, Michel brought his brother into the SCH; his brother became a minister and is known as a very gifted medium. His parents were skeptical – his father did not believe in the afterlife – but after a car accident that resulted in a long hospitalization for both of them, they became very active participants in the SCH.
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As time went on, Michel realized that most mediums had trouble seeing the lower entities who were disturbing people. “Something had to be done,” he said. He says that he worked with his angels and spirit guides and eventually, “with a lot of humility,” accepted this was part of his mission; he had to do it. He believes, though, that is it a spiritual gift: “It doesn’t just come with time, it’s there or it’s not there.” He is the first to admit that he has a strong personality, and he believes that one cannot be too reserved in the exorcist role: “You have to challenge the lower entities, you have to challenge them, you have to go ahead, fight with them…” Michel is discreet about his work as an exorcist; it is rare that Spiritualist mediums perform exorcism and he is the only one to do so at the SCH. He receives about 150 calls each year for exorcism, often for ‘cleaning’ houses, that is, removing negative spirit entities. This began quite early in his work as a medium and exorcist, in the late 1970s or early 80s. As always, he prayed and asked his spirit guides for counsel before embarking on this type of work. With their agreement, he began responding to the requests he was receiving from people who felt that their homes harbored negative spiritual energies or entities.
7.13 The Reality of Satan and Other Negative Entities Michel almost never speaks of Satan; however, he himself is convinced of Satan’s existence. In a sense, he says, there are many Satans, but it makes sense that there should be a director of the lower spheres. Spiritualism works with higher spirits, but groups can be attacked, students in these groups as well as himself. Lower spirits “want to take over, they want to have control instead of letting the light have control,” tempting Jesus in the desert, attacking Brother André before the 6 am Mass. “If they who were spiritual 24 hours a day can be attacked, so can we.” As Michel sees it, negativity is all around us. People who were bad in this life can make trouble “on the other side.” They end up on a lower astral plane and attack people living on Earth. Mafiosi, contract killers and such – after dying, “they don’t sprout wings.” (Spiritualism teaches that souls progress after moving on from this life – but not necessarily right away.) Such ‘lower entities’ can cause a great deal of trouble for the living.
7.14 Forms of Affliction Most of the regular participants interviewed over the years have experienced attacks by ‘evil entities,’ or at least their unwanted presence. Evil entities are the spirits of the dead who are at a low point in their spiritual development and seek to control living persons, do them harm, pull them away from their spiritual development and, sometimes, seduce them into sexual dependency. Possession, according to Michel, may be a matter of a single forceful spirit, or there may be a dozen entities in the
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person’s aura. If they are strong enough, they will influence the person’s voice and body. The more general category of ‘lower entities’ also includes wandering or ‘vagabond’ spirits, those who are dead but cannot grasp the fact and who haunt spaces inhabited by the living, either because of sudden death, or because they did not believe in an afterlife. They may sometimes bother the living but are not reason for exorcism; Spiritualist mediums sometimes ‘rescue’ these souls and send them on their way. For example, Nancy, a young woman in the closed group, began sobbing loudly during a meditation.14 Michel went over to her and seemed to be giving healing, except that he held her hands.15 After that, she came to, smiling and talking normally with no memory of crying. Michel told us it was the spirit of a person who died in a recent plane crash and that he had worked to help the spirit on his way and this without negative effects for Nancy. Negativity can present itself in a non-personal guise; for example, a member of a closed group once perceived a ‘negative thought form’ around a young woman that looked like a dirty white cloudy mass. Michel interpreted this as the crystallization of jealousy in her workplace. In other cases, the damage done by others’ ill will is more serious; a middle-aged man active in the SCH sought Michel’s help because he was convinced that his Haitian ex-wife was behind a series of misfortunes in his life and that she had resorted to Vaudou. There is also a certain effect of contagion, where just being in proximity with someone involved in Satanism or in occult activities can be dangerous to others’ moral or physical well-being, by attracting negative entities into their auras. (As mentioned earlier, Charismatics have a similar notion of spiritual contagion.) Then there are people who are bewitched (envoutés) by spirits after playing with an Ouija board. When a group of girls plays with the Ouija board, only one may be affected. However, the effects can be felt by others who were not present, notably children and animals. Michel tells of parents who came to him because their young son was throwing himself against a wall, right out of his chair, head first – the work of a negative spirit, he says. Like most who consult him for exorcism, the parents do not attend the SCH. It turned out that they had held a party the week before where they had played with an Ouija board. “It’s not a game,” Michel warns. Several men and women of the SCH report having had sexual experiences with negative entities (Meintel 2014). According to Michel: That’s very bad, but it happens constantly… I’ve heard this often [from people who consult him], they think it’s a natural process. Absolutely not! Those are lower entities, and they can become satanic those entities, because once they have you in their control, they can do whatever they want with you… These are lower entities who are obsessed by sex.
Such entities are analogous to ‘Satan’s acolytes’ in the Catholic lexicon: demonic beings in the service of the Evil One. Another form of spiritual disturbance involves This and several other cases mentioned in this section are presented in greater detail in Meintel (2014). 15 Normally healers do not touch the one they are working on. 14
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astral projection, that is, a living person projecting himself into others’ personal space. One such case involved a medium from the SCH who amused himself by doing this, appearing in spirit in the home of other Church members, who then complained to Michel. When confronted, the man admitted what he was doing, but did not stop. After several warnings, he was expelled from the Church. Another case involved a man who was interested in another Church member and who made his presence felt in her home. Others visiting her also felt a foreign presence that was pressuring them to leave. She felt powerless to deal with this and so asked Michel to rid her home of this unwanted presence. These are cases where spiritual powers are used for selfish ends. Michel tells of individuals involved in black magic or Satanism who are nonetheless gifted clairvoyants: “These powers are given by the Creator, they can be used for good or bad.”
7.15 Protection, Healing, Exorcism Protection is a recurrent theme in Michel’s messages as a medium and in his teachings in the closed groups. All activities at the SCH include the Our Father16 at the beginning, as this is seen as the paramount prayer for protection. Often participants are encouraged to intensify spiritual protection by visualizing themselves surrounded by bright light. For himself, Michel does the following: I visualize a color bright like the sun, a brilliant golden yellow, that descends from above through my chakras17 down to my feet… I merge with the light, I don’t see myself anymore, just the color of the light. Then I see my angels and guides around me, holding hands, and then I ask God for protection for the day or for the night.
Given his work with many people who are being disturbed by lower entities, Michel prays for protection day and night: “I know what the negative, the darkness, can do… The negative is very sneaky and it’s everywhere on the planet.” Protection comes up often in his classes (closed groups). A woman he knows who was involved with the Rosicrucians did not believe in the need for protection. She was rushing to get across the street and fell on her face, then looked up and, she says, “I saw the face of Satan, it was horrible!” It was Satan who made her stumble, Michel concludes. After that, she understood why she had to pray for protection. Along the same lines, Michel strongly discourages any contact with black or white magic. Like Catholic exorcists (and Durkheim, we would add), he sees magic of any kind as ego-centered, an attempt to manipulate spiritual forces. He expresses the hope that those in his groups will not go to an annual exhibit for esoterica held in Montreal. While some who have kiosks there are well-intentioned, he says, there are others who bring negative entities with them. At the SCH, the prayer is identified this way, not as the ‘Lord’s Prayer,’ as is usually the case among Protestants. 17 As in many New Age circles, chakras are often mentioned in SCH activities. 16
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Healing is transmitted by designated individuals in the SCH, including Michel and the other ministers. They learn to do the laying on of hands without touching individuals, partly to avoid legal problems but also because touching is not necessary. For Spiritualists, working in the energy field around the person is effective. At the weekly healing service, five, six or more work at the same time, with recipients sitting in a chair in front of them, open palms facing upwards. Silence reigns except for soft New Age style music. If one is not well emotionally or physically, one should receive healing rather than transmit it. Nonetheless, those who work as healers confirm that this work is as beneficial to them as to the recipients. Many are in light trance as they work, so it is important that they try not to bump into each other. Sometimes Michel sees a person who needs exorcism before receiving healing and discreetly clears ‘lower spirits’ from the person’s aura so as then to be able to transmit healing. “I know the healing will work but there’s there are lower spirits around the person, so even if we heal, they’ll have the same problem…” Michel does not perform exorcism in front of people because “anything can happen – glasses go flying, that’s natural.” However, there are many cases where he sees lower entities entangled in the person’s aura that do not call for a full-blown exorcism: “I’ve had cases where I’ve seen lower spirits and where it seemed that I was healing, but actually I was taking the spirit away.” Such ‘cleansing,’ as Michel calls it, is also done in the classes (closed groups) he directs. Someone might have gone to a restaurant, for example, and got caught up in the aura of a person sitting nearby – the contagion effect mentioned earlier. “It can happen to anyone, anywhere.” Michel relates experiences of doing exorcism where knives stood on end and his glasses went flying. However, he tends to discuss this part of his work very little in public, preferring to emphasize more positive aspects of spiritual experience. To a large degree, he works at a distance and performs exorcisms repeatedly for cases that require it; for example, his prayers at night are often for those who are disturbed by negative entities in their sleep. He sees himself as working in a team, with his spirit guides and angels, saying, “I clean their auras and bodies with our exorcism team to deliver them from any unwanted spirits and then I perform a healing session on them.” If a child is afflicted by negative spirits, as in the case related earlier, he works on the child first, and then includes both parents, so as to complete the family circle. When asked who ‘does’ the exorcism, he answers that in physical terms, he does the exorcism, but in reality, the cleansing and clearing out of entities is carried out by “my guides and angels and other specialized workers in the light.” In his exorcism prayers, he starts out ‘most importantly’ with God, and then implores his guides, angels and other ‘light workers’ for their intervention. His main prayer is the Our Father, but he also makes up spontaneous prayers. Sometimes he directs prayers to Jesus or to saints like Padre Pio, Saint Frère André, and others. Usually he addresses the negative or evil spirits, but on occasion, in private, will also include Satan. On occasions where Michel performs exorcism in the spaces where evil entities are present, he brings sacred objects, including a tomahawk and a turtle rattle,18 a blessed crucifix, holy water, a Bible and, sometimes, sage. These were gifts from Mohawks at a nearby reserve where Michel once gave a spiritual development course.
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7.16 Houses Exorcizing houses, condos or apartments is a demanding exercise for Michel because it may take 6 h of intensive, focused prayer. There cannot be any children present; animals are allowed, but only if they are quiet. After the exorcism people want him to stay for coffee or a meal and ask for clairvoyant messages, which takes a few more hours. While Michel can give clairvoyant messages to a roomful of people over 3 or 4 h and come out feeling renewed, ‘cleaning houses’ as he calls it, is very tiring. Nowadays he usually does this type of exorcism at a distance, using a floor plan of the dwelling. He finds that many places need repeated cleansing. Prayers must be said over every opening (drains, windows, doors, and so on). If there are any closets, he goes inside the closets. I go room by room, cleansing the walls, the ceiling, the floors, from the basement all the way up. I bless the house inside and outside and the people that are in it. Then, I do this every day, minimum for a month…to make sure they [negative entities] don’t come back.
Even at a distance, because he has been doing this type of work for decades, he feels himself in the house. Doing the work of exorcism in his own home saves time, but nonetheless, he can be attacked (spiritually) while doing it. However, the evil spirits have not been able to wreak vengeance, because he is spiritually protected: “It’s never happened, but it definitely can happen.” Houses may need exorcism not so much because of the presence of former residents who have passed on, but because of occult activities. Michel tells of a recent case involving a Haitian woman, mother of five children, who was finding little nests made of human hair in her house and in her country place. Her children were having difficulties in school as well. This, Michel says, is the work of a medium familiar with the black arts, who wants to destroy the family unit. The family left webcams on at night and Michel says that the video footage showed forms moving in the night. The worst, he says, are places where someone has been engaged in satanic activities. In such cases, sexual attacks by spirits on those living in the home are not uncommon. In one case, he worked to protect the woman in such a house from spirit rape, but then the spirit kept her awake for hours with singing. More than one spirit may be causing trouble; in one recent case, there were six or seven spirits present; some months later, it was down to two, but “they are intransigent and do not want to leave.” In some places where particularly nefarious beings are present Michel has brought a crucifix. “And they [negative entities] laugh at it. So I know this is heavy stuff.” In other cases, homes are affected even when the owners do nothing themselves to invite negative spirits. For example, a psychologist who consulted Michel reported objects moving around by themselves. Through clairvoyance he found that the source was a patient of hers who had his therapy in her home office. After Michel worked on the home, the psychologist changed the man’s therapy session to an office elsewhere so that the problem would not recur.
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7.17 Support and Normative Guidance The theme of discernment is not particularly strong in Michel’s discourse around exorcism, and he does not work with a (human) team. However, as we have seen, his work as an exorcist is carried out within a clear spiritual framework and he only undertook it after long consultation with his spirit guides. Similarly, other activities, such as clairvoyance and healing, are governed by spiritual principles that, for Spiritualists, distinguish them from simply ‘esoteric’ activities. In fact, most Charismatic Catholics would probably consider Spiritualism ‘esoteric,’ but Michel and the other ministers of the SCH strongly reject this notion. Extraordinary occurrences (clairvoyance, prophecy, visions, and so on) are current among Spiritualist mediums, yet a strong normative framework surrounds spiritual gifts and their use. Clairvoyance is not ‘fortune telling,’ Michel insists, where all the readings are pretty much the same. Moreover, mind reading is strongly forbidden, given that it is done for egotistical ends, not spiritual ones. Some mediums, he says, do know how to read minds, “Yes I can read minds by telepathy, but I never have and I never will.” Transmitting clairvoyance or healing and performing exorcisms are sacralized by offering prayers for protection and help before they are undertaken. For Spiritualists, clairvoyance – never complete and never infallible – is to be used to help others orient their physical life or spiritual life: in Michel’s words, “to try and touch that soul within so that they can accomplish what they are supposed to accomplish here on Earth.” Many of the messages given by mediums at SCH services are spiritual ones, often with a strong Catholic flavor: “I see the blue of the Virgin Mary around you. Keep praying to her”; or, “I’m getting Brother André with you. Try to visit the Oratory whenever you can.” The closed groups, often termed ‘courses’ or ‘classes,’ are important not only for allowing participants to practice different forms of clairvoyance, but also for creating a certain habitus around mediumship. Clairvoyance becomes anchored in faith in God and one’s guides rather than mere self-confidence. Participants also learn how to present messages to others without frightening them, or giving orders or medical advice. Clairvoyance is presented as a spiritual tool, not an end in itself. Mediums who work at Church services are supported by the minister present, who is usually quick to notice any behavior that does not conform to the Church’s ethic about the use of clairvoyance. Those giving healing are selected by one of the ministers and are instructed in what healing means in Spiritualist terms: that it comes from God, and that our spirit guides help us transmit it to others. In healing, as in clairvoyance, ego is seen as a danger, that is, forgetting that God is the source of these gifts and that the medium or healer is but a vehicle. Finally, the behavior of congregants at Church services follows certain rules of decorum; speaking out of turn, moving around, exuberant gestures or crying out Pentecostal-style are not permitted. In classes, verbal aggression is handled first with humor but then with warnings and if these fail, expulsion.
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7.18 Who Seeks Exorcism? Both of the exorcists in our study are sought out by people of other faiths. Most of those who approach Father Leduc are nominally Catholic, but non-practicing. Few of those who approach Michel have been to the SCH. Most are, in fact, Catholic, usually non-practicing; a few are Muslim immigrants from Arab countries. Overall, most of those who seek help for getting rid of evil entities are not religiously active, but neither exorcist proselytizes. Father Leduc believes that urgent spiritual care (deliverance or exorcism) should take precedence over preaching or converting. Otherwise trust will be lost and those seeking help will go elsewhere. He finds that Haitians and other immigrants are familiar with spiritual evil-doing and so are likely to contact a priest early on, whereas French-Canadian Québecois usually seek esoteric practitioners of all kinds before consulting a priest, “making their problem worse at the same time.” Michel holds that those who seek exorcism via the diocese often find no help there and so turn to him. Some are told they have a psychological problem. “One woman told me they [at the diocese where she turned for help] said she was crazy, that bad spirits don’t exist!” (In fact, many Catholic exorcists, including Father Leduc, mention that not all priests and bishops believe in demons or Satan.) Those seeking exorcism for their home can find a priest who will bless the house, “but he won’t cleanse it.” And so the problem remains. Michel has harsh words for so-called exorcists, some of whom advertise online, who charge hundreds, if not thousands, of dollars. “There is so much fraud going around you know? … There is so much money to make with exorcism and things like that.” One woman who consulted him had paid $400 for having her house cleansed of negative spirits, to no effect.
7.19 Why Exorcism Now? Both exorcists in our study speak of the dangers involved in esoteric activities: unscrupulous mediums out for gain, playing with Ouija boards, practicing magic – white or black. Their definitions of ‘esoteric’ differ, as we have noted: many Charismatic Catholics would consider the SCH a den of esoteric activities. We should note here that Michel is on good terms with several Catholic clergymen and that he was once consulted by a bishop who was suddenly experiencing flashes of clairvoyance and premonitions that were borne out by events. Both exorcists abhor Satanism and consider it highly dangerous; moreover, both would agree that drugs and other dependencies (on sex or alcohol, for example) may open the door to infestation by maleficent spirits. Like Michel, Father Leduc considers that occult practices and drug consumption leave people open to evil influences, and possibly to the spirits of the deceased. Michel believes that the many people now ‘crossing over’ who have no knowledge of the afterlife may become ‘wandering spirits,’ not usually evil, but sometimes troublesome to the living.
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Michel notes that requests for exorcism rarely come from those who frequent his groups or SCH services, because they would probably consult him early on. Similarly, Father Leduc notes that certain populations who tend to be churchgoing Catholics would consult their priest as soon as they felt any disturbance. In the two groups discussed here, it is very rare that someone who has a regular religious practice (prayer and/or attendance at Mass or other Church services) would seek exorcism. Such requests usually come from people who have had some kind of religious background but who practice little or not at all. Media influences may also play a role. Coverage of exorcisms, as well as Popes Francis’ reminders that Satan is real,19 may lead to some thinking that exorcism would heal their suffering. Michel believes that this may be a good thing, in that media treatment of spirits and exorcism may impel people to seek spiritual aid. At the same time, the complexities of mental illness may lead some individuals to project their inner distress onto the world of spirits and to seek exorcism rather than therapeutic resources. Some Catholic practitioners of deliverance or exorcism use terms such as ‘forms of negativity’ (Thériault 2014), rather than speaking of Satan, for fear that speaking outright of possession might aggravate a psychological problem that is not caused by spiritual malevolence.
7.20 Convergent Beliefs and Practices We are struck by the many similarities between exorcisms as practiced in the two traditions under study. Spiritualist and Catholic beliefs concur as regards the danger presented by evil spirits to the living. Both currents see esoteric activities, as well as drug use, as opening the door to demonic influences, though the notion of ‘esoteric’ is variable. Moreover, both traditions see exorcism (along with deliverance, for the Charismatics) as leaving practitioners vulnerable. Both Michel and Father Leduc believe that they themselves could fall prey to their spiritual adversaries. Neither exorcist considers that they, as individuals, are battling Satan or his acolytes; rather, both advocate humility and believe it is God or (for Michel) His spirit workers who actually effect exorcism. Thus they can do their work without fear, while recognizing that the danger is real. Both men are atypical of their tradition, as few priests or Spiritualist ministers practice exorcism. Given the difficulty of finding an exorcist, they are often sought out by persons of other religious groups and religious traditions. Sharing the same faith is not a condition for successful exorcism (or deliverance) and neither man sees exorcism as a proselytizing tool, but both see a turn to spirituality by the recipient as helpful. In a sense, both exorcists have the same clientele, principally
As noted in an article on two American Catholic exorcists: https://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/2016/09/26/leading-us-exorcists-explain-huge-increase-indemand-for-the-rit/ Accessed 4 August 2018.
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composed of lapsed Catholics. In some cases, practicing Catholics seek Michel’s services as an exorcist when they cannot find what they need in the Church. Differences, while present, are not central to the practice of exorcism per se. Deliverance as a separate practice does not exist in the SCH. Members are not encouraged to combat negative spirits in any direct way; instead, they are frequently advised to say prayers of protection. However, as we noted, Michel adjusts his work to combat troublesome entities according to the situation and often does not perform a true exorcism. While Father Leduc does not exorcize homes as does Michel, there are other Catholic exorcists who do. Both religious traditions leave a place for spirits of deceased people who, without being evil, may trouble the living, though the ‘rescue’ of spirits that are merely troublesome features more in Spiritualist tradition. The many similarities between beliefs and practices around exorcism in these two cases arise from a number of factors. Charismatic Catholicism was greatly influenced by Evangelical Protestantism, while Spiritualism developed out of the Protestant tradition. The Catholic ethos of Québec, very present in the SCH, and his own Catholic socialization probably helped lead Michel to practice exorcisms, as nothing in Spiritualism would require him to do so. Moreover, there is considerable circulation among religious currents in Montreal in terms of attending services and rituals; those who are religiously inactive or who frequent other groups often seek religious services (life cycle rituals, healing, funerals) from priests and ministers, so it is not surprising that they would do so in the case of exorcism.
7.21 Conclusion From an anthropological point of view, we observe that certain aspects of modernity may help drive the current demand for exorcism and other forms of spiritual cleansing. Folk traditions of magic or witchcraft in some countries can lead to a sense of spiritual vulnerability that immigrants to North America bring with them. In more developed countries, the decline of religious practice in the classical sense of Church attendance, combined with the emergence of modern variants of occult practices and Satanism, can leave people feeling endangered by invisible negative forces. In societies like Québec, secularization did not only diminish the power of the Church; it also led to what we might call the deregulation of the world of the spirit. In such societies, modern religious diversity includes many new forms of gnostic spirituality, where direct contact with the spirit world is encouraged. Moreover, many individuals circulate among various spiritual currents, picking up religious tools and techniques along the way. Some (including Catholics) consider that a certain degree of spiritual hybridity contributes to the vitality of their inner religious life. Yet in such a context, those without any regular religious practice do not have the security of a coherent, uncontested religious worldview and may therefore feel ill-equipped to deal with adversity.
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This spiritual vacuum, let us call it, would be all the more keenly felt in societies such as Québec, where secularization was compressed into a fairly narrow, relatively recent time frame. While, sociologically speaking, it was a gradual process in some ways – for example, as regards religious practice20 – in the popular mind, it was experienced as a very rapid one that occurred mostly in the 1960s, when many relevant political, legal, and institutional reforms took place. Father Leduc and Michel both feel that there is a much greater need for help against evil spiritual forces than is generally acknowledged by the Catholic clergy. The fact that so many who have no regular religious practice come to feel the need for help against invisible negative forces is a telling indicator of the durable presence of spiritual reality – albeit of the negative sort – in supposedly materialistic, thoroughly secularized societies. The fact that those so afflicted seek the help of religious practitioners further attests to the enduring belief in invisible beings and powers. In present day Québec, people continue to situate themselves in relation to Catholicism: as practicing, non- practicing, lapsed, as Catholic by identity but not practice. It is thus not surprising that in moments of perceived danger, those feeling themselves the victim of negative forces would seek Catholic religious resources or, at least, as in the case of Spiritualism, Christian ones.
References Boucher, G. (2013). Rencontrer le Christ: Ethnographie d’un centre de prière du Renouveau catholique charismatique (Mémoire de maîtrise). Montréal: Université de Montréal. Braude, A. (2001). Radical sprits: Spiritualism and women’s rights in nineteenth-century America (2nd ed.). Bloomington: Indiana University Press. Campiche, R. J. (1997). Cultures jeunes et religions en Europe. Paris: Les Éditions du Cerf. Chagnon, R. (1979). Les Charismatiques au Québec. Montréal: Québec/Amériques. Chave-Mahir, F. (2011). L’exorcisme des possédés dans l’Église d’Occident (Xe-XIVe siècle). Turnhout: Brepols Publishers. Chossonery, C. (2000). Le renouveau de l’exorcisme. In P. Wallon (Ed.), Guérir l’âme et le corps (pp. 126–146). Paris: Albin Michel. Germain, A., & Gagnon, J. E. (2003). Minority places of worship and zoning dilemmas in Montreal. Planning Theory and Practice, 4(3), 295–318. Giordan, G. (2009). The body between religion and spirituality. Social Compass, 56(32), 226–236. Giordan, G., & Possamai, A. (2017). Mastering the devil: A sociological analysis of a Catholic exorcist. Current Sociology, 66(1), 74–91. Goulet, J. G. (1998). Ways of knowing: Experience, knowledge and power among the Dene Tha. Vancouver: University of BC Press. Hervieu-Léger, D. (1999). Le pèlerin et le converti. Paris: Flammarion. Lemay, H. (2011). Formation en guérison chrétienne. Premier niveau. Introduction à la guérison chrétienne. Orleans: Henri Lemay. Lemire, M. (1995). Dictionnaire des œuvres littéraires du Québec – 1940 à 1959 (Vol. 3, 2nd ed.). Montréal: Fides.
In 1948, 30–50% of Catholics in Montreal did not go to weekly Mass (Linteau et al. 1989, p. 336).
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Linteau, P. A., Durocher, R., & Robert, J. C. (1989). Histoire du Québec contemporain. De la Confédération à la crise (1867–1929). Montréal: Boréal. McGuire, M. (2008). Lived religion. Toronto: Oxford University Press. Meintel, D. (2007). When there is no conversion: Spiritualists and personal religious change. Anthropologica, 49(1), 149–162. Meintel, D. (2011). Catholicism as living memory in a Montreal Spiritualist congregation. Quebec Studies, 52(2), 69–86. Meintel, D. (2014). Spirits in the city: Examples from Montreal. In J. Hunter & D. Luke (Eds.), Talking with the spirits: Ethnographies from between the worlds (pp. 75–99). Brisbane: Daily Grail Press. Nelson, G. K. (1969). Spiritualism and society. London: Routledge. Sagne, J. C. (1994). Le ministère d’exorciste. In F. Laplantine & M. Introvigne (Eds.), Le Défi magique: Satanisme, sorcellerie. Lyon: Presses universitaires de Lyon. Statistics Canada. (2011). National household survey. Statistics Canada Catalogue no. 99-010-X2011032. Thériault, S. (2014). Accompagnement spirituel et déliverance. Montréal: Le Pèlerin. Turner, E. (1996). The hands feel it: Healing and spirit presence among a Northern Alaskan people. DeKalb: Northern Illinois University Press.
Chapter 8
Spirit Possession and Exorcism in Today’s Church of England Douglas J. Davies Abstract The Church of England, a Protestant transformation of Catholicism, is derived from a two thousand year cultural history of belief and ritual that has, within its own biblical texts, included ideas of the hard-form of possession and exorcism, and is heir to liturgies of baptismal initiation whose early forms included formal exorcism. Moreover British Protestantism itself hosted a significant late-medieval cum early-modern phase of possession and witchcraft engaging possession by evil forces. Focused, then, on its state church, this chapter briefly sketches its historical background, offers a slightly fuller account of the last fifty years, and a more detailed analysis of contemporary exorcism and its complementary notion of possession. The detail will take three Anglican dioceses, document their approach to what is often called deliverance ministry, and furnish some detailed account of case studies of a small number of selected clerical professionals. In theoretical terms the chapter will briefly indicate the way possession and exorcism are related to ideas of evil, of social deprivation, and of personhood and embodiment. This will include the theoretically challenging phenomenon of the post 1970s Charismatic Movement within Anglicanism with its doctrinal stress of the Holy Spirit as an influence upon its largely middle-class devotees, some acceptance of evil spirits, influences, and deliverance. This ritual-focus on deliverance will be compared with that of medicallylinked therapeutic care. These two foci frame an arena of cultural uncertainty, revealing paradoxical attitudes to notions of personhood, identity, ecclesial authority, mental wellbeing, and divine or satanic influence. This uncertainty will, finally, be discussed alongside phenomena that are not usually related to exorcism and yet which bring home the often ‘exotic’ elements of exorcism as belonging to some ‘other’ culture. Here the theoretical emphasis will lie on identity and one’s apparently ‘dead’ kin. The human capacity to identify with other living persons and to embrace them as part of one’s composite identity offers its own very weak form of possession, most especially when experiencing one’s dead parent’s embodied behaviour (habitus) in one’s own. In other words, the sense of the presence of one’s
D. J. Davies (*) Department of Theology and Religion, Durham University, Durham, UK e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 G. Giordan, A. Possamai (eds.), The Social Scientific Study of Exorcism in Christianity, Popular Culture, Religion and Society. A Social-Scientific Approach 3, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-43173-0_8
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dead in oneself, whether in everyday behaviour or, of the sense of being close to one’s dead, as fostered in some forms of liturgical context, offers a phenomenological family resemblance to possession, albeit a benign kind not usually requiring any exorcism.
8.1 Introduction Full-blown demonic possession is so rare in contemporary England that the fact that the Church of England has been concerned with it from the mid-1960s, and is at present composing a new policy document on it, is of interest in and of itself. This rarity of incidence underlies this chapter’s anthropological focus on the Church’s pastoral-managerial commitment to developing what it prefers to call the Ministry of Deliverance. In approaching the topic from what might be described as a worldview studies perspective, this chapter firmly signposts the cultural complementarity and constraints of the co-existence of health and legal systems, while not forgetting the media world alert to religious exoticism. Today, spirit possession and exorcism within the Church of England highlight the near-paradoxical intersection of ancient and modern worldviews. There is an inevitability in this, since any such complex ecclesial organization hosts several varieties of theology and liturgical practice within its evolving tradition of a double millennium of assorted Christian and cultural traditions. Significantly, as far as this chapter is concerned, the sixteenth century English Reformation not only metamorphosed these traditions into ongoing styles of ‘churchmanship’ but also generated an institution of State with the British monarch as its formal head. Moreover, possession and exorcism are of interest because today’s Church of England exists in a society whose other major social institution, the National Health Service (NHS), owns its own interest in the causation and classification of behaviors following diagnosis as medical-psychiatric rather than theological-demonic entities. While this coexistence is profound, as I have discussed elsewhere, I mention it here as backcloth to the existentially and theologically telling notions of health, well-being, and salvation surrounding this chapter’s possession-exorcism theme (Davies 2015, pp. 2, 5, 18, 98–101, 140–141). Moreover, both Church and NHS currently have their activities strongly framed by ethical-legal concerns over ‘safeguarding,’ the shorthand term for the well-being of parishioners and patients in their relationship with ecclesiastical and medical staff. Together, Church, Health Service, and ethical-legalities have come to determine, or at least furnish a fundamental sub- text for, ecclesial discussions of possession and exorcism. With that complex social context in mind, this chapter approaches the topic from a largely sociological-anthropological perspective, while ignoring neither appropriate historical and theological materials nor issues of wider British society. Similarly, the relation of elite and popular forms of belief, the diversity of religious and cultural groups, and the ecclesial tonalities existing within the one Church are all
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deeply relevant. So, too, is the technical issue of understanding ‘personhood,’ a theme of considerable relevance to both social science and theology, but which will receive only brief attention here. To speak of the Church of England today, as for much of British post-sixteenth- century history, is to touch on issues of social-cultural flux and diversity of access to social status and power – issues that sometimes attract the notions of anomie, the relative alienation of some, and with possession as one existential response (Lewis 1971). Godbeer, for example, describes how “only after the late sixteenth century did diabolical possession become a widespread and frequent occurrence,” not least in the emergent populations of New England (1992, p. 106). In many similar contexts of emerging and competing worldviews, especially where healing is concerned, we find extensive studies of coping mechanisms with shamans and neo-shamans controlling spirits, with modern forms of witchcraft and notions of superstition invoked to cover a diversity of astrology, amulet practice, séances, and the like. Examples could be drawn from contemporary Korea (Kim 2003), Israel in the 1980s (Beit-Hallami 1992, pp. 73–99), or Russia today, where Orthodox priests, often resident in monasteries, are “much in demand” as those “who can drive out demons” (Lindquist 2006, p. 66). Spirits, along with witchcraft and magic at large, have occupied a dynamic presence in contemporary anthropology (Greenwood 2000; Mageo and Howard 1996). Similarly, the late Matthew Wood’s nuanced sociological work has illuminated the interplay of social class and possession in England, something that Church of England material tends not to discuss (2007, pp. 163–178). These are but some examples of social scientific approaches to possession and ideas of supernatural power. Focusing more directly on possession and today’s Church of England, there is a certain aptness to this study, given that the Church of England is, at the time of writing in the early summer of 2019, actively and formally considering its position on these very issues, led by a designated bishop, the Rt Revd Peter A. Eagles, Bishop of Sodor and Man. That ensuing ecclesiastical report will probably post-date the publication of this chapter. This chapter is also timely given the recent publication of a major historical study of Anglican exorcism (Young 2018). With such factors in mind, this chapter adopts a largely anthropological-sociological perspective alert to the developing field of Worldview Studies (Droogers and van Harskamp 2014).
8.1.1 From Idea to Destiny What then of possession and exorcism amidst the worldview matrix of Christianity? It is certainly the case that ancient Jewish, early Christian, and emergent traditions assumed the potential influence of malign spirits and the capacity to restrain or exorcize them. Andrea Nicolotti’s research on the second and third Christian centuries demonstrates this. She described how “every Gentile who converted to Christianity had to renounce these evil beings that swarmed over all the world and
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the airspace surrounding it,” and how “exorcism played an important role in the Christian attitude towards paganism, the creation of a Christian identity, the maintenance of internal social cohesion, and the control of internal deviation” (Nicolotti 2011, pp. 632–633). Her allusion to the ‘swarming’ of evil beings and to the ‘airspace’ of the day aptly frames the important fact of the ethos of a culture and its inhering worldviews. The rise of ecclesial power structures that retained something of that worldview helps explain how, in the late medieval and early modern periods, malignity came to be subsumed under categories of witchcraft. Typified in the 1487 publication of the Malleus Maleficorum [Hammer of Witches] by the German Jesuit Inquisitors Heinrich Kramer and Jacob Sprenger, this involved its own variety of ecclesiastical and jural punishments. Their fifteenth-century venture, set in a society where the Catholic Church held sway – and magisterially described by Keith Thomas (1973) – was very different from mid and late twentieth-century England, where ideas of secularization, scientific-modernization, and facts of decreased public participation in Church rituals were growing apace. A time when Catholics, too, were altering emphases on exorcism whilst also managing resurgent interest in its practice (see Kelly 2006, pp. 318–322). Yet it was precisely in the 1970s that interest in spiritual-supernatural forces flourished within several Christian denominations in terms of the Charismatic movement, and in wider society in notions of possession and exorcism. Amidst the swirling secularization of the 1960s another Zeitgeist was the supernatural – whether defined positively or negatively. Blatty’s highly influential novel The Exorcist, published in 1971, much viewed as a film by 1973, and with over twelve million copies sold by 1979 had, oddly perhaps, had its ‘subject matter’ suggested by a Jesuit Priest (Blatty 1972, Acknowledgements). Other books followed, including that by Anglican priest, Christopher Neil-Smith (1920–1995), with his The Exorcist and the Possessed (1974) which embraces a variety of evil influences from witchcraft, through ghosts, to African based relatives acting malignly on students studying in England. He reflected public interest by telling of some 500 letters being sent him after a television film of an exorcism taking place in his parish church (Neil-Smith 1974, p. 95). From a non-theological standpoint, whatever else ‘possession’ may be, it needs to be understood within the complex field of identity generation and maintenance rooted in emotionally pervaded meaning-making, and gains part of its significance from how it is defined by authoritative sources. Although the major historical sources for it have tended to be ecclesiastical, with some legal overlap, today’s dominant perspective in modern developed societies tends to be medical-psychiatric, but also involving legal-ethical influence. Alongside these expert or professional domains it is hard to know what the population at large make of these phenomena, but some public appetite must exist given the ongoing media, television, and film sources generating programs on ghosts, spirits, haunting, and possession. One way of considering such interest is to think about an underlying scheme concerning ‘ideas’ and emotions. This approach proposes that when an idea is pervaded by an emotional charge it becomes a value; that if such a value contributes to a person’s sense of identity it becomes a belief; and if that belief goes on to frame a
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sense of destiny then we might think of it as a religious belief. The examples of possession or exorcism would be cases in point, much as I have argued elsewhere for ‘grief’ (Davies 2017, pp. 5–7), and for ‘ministry’ (Davies 2019, p. 67). On this basis, I reckon that most members of the Church of England hold possession and exorcism as ideas – just ideas. For some, perhaps especially theologically trained clergy, they may constitute what might best be described as a form of ‘theological idea,’ but an idea nonetheless. However, their familiarity with biblical texts of possession and the driving out of spirits, aligned with the life of Jesus, may confer a sensed affinity with these notions that consequently gain the status of a value. Similarly, for a minority of lay or clerical persons, some ‘odd’ or unusual life or pastoral experiences may emotionally charge ideas of ghosts, the ‘atmosphere’ of a house, or ‘possession,’ clearly raising these to the status of a ‘value.’ Furthermore, it may be that after a priest visits and, for example, says some prayers, the ‘disturbance’ ceases. For a few, however, these experiences may go on to influence their very sense of identity, and at that point a ‘belief’ arises. Indeed, in such contexts, the very notion of ‘possession’ may also implicate the notion of identity and of the agency of the person concerned. Finally, for a very small number, even a sense of destiny may become involved, raising the emotion-pervaded word through the levels of value and belief to religious belief. This gradation of intensification of emotion, identity, and destiny, offers its own way of grasping why some clergy, for example, take these things ‘seriously,’ and why some simply do not. Much depends on a person’s own life-experience and the interpretive worldview he or she finds satisfying.
8.1.2 Worldview Diversity This variation of ‘understanding’ is, theoretically speaking, one major reason why it is probably difficult to produce an ecclesiastical report on possession and exorcism. For, here, different worldviews exist even within a single Church, and the same applies to notions of personhood and identity. Today many commentators dwell on the power of nation states, international companies, political groupings, commercialism and advertising in fostering ideas of individualism and choice, all intersecting with professional agencies, social media and personal relationships in contexts where expert prediction of events counts for little. Pervading these situations are thousands of ideological trends emanating from traditional religions, innovative forms designated in terms of spirituality, as well as conspiracy theories – to which I will allude later. Moreover, cognitive and emotional uncertainties, generated by such circumstances, sit alongside disturbing modes of fundamentalism as individuals seek to make their own assertive meaning in the world. The Church of England, through its hierarchical organization and presence across elite and popular social worlds, influences and is influenced by these many dynamic factors. Moreover, it is precisely here that the theme of possession makes its presence felt, especially if we approach the topic as one dealing fundamentally with the perception and
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anagement of power, understood as the interplay of social force mediated through m established institutions and appropriated by individuals. ‘Power,’ then is complex, relating both to the authority of legal institutions and to that personalized sense of being able to survive in the world.
8.2 Church of England, Origin and Ritual Shifts Behind issues of institutional power lies the historical background of the Church of England, not least in terms of our immediate concern with spirit possession. Though this topic has been valuably explored by Milner in terms of ecclesial-medical alliances (2000), and its history extensively documented by Young (2018), I draw attention to some additional aspects of its theology in relation to the social realignment of the English Reformation, before going on to deploy some technical social scientific analyses. Here the implicit power brokerage lies in the power of the Church as the agent of God, and of evil forces emanating from the domain of the Devil. One significant mode of access to the issues of power lies in the ritual formulae deployed by institutions as they classify and engage with the ‘powers’ energizing their worldviews. This is all part of a process of coding and coping with perceived realities in which words, notably ritual formulae, are vitally important, as Roy Rappaport’s account of ritual makes clear. In what is perhaps the best and most extensive anthropological account of ritual in the twentieth century he differentiates between the notion of ‘deutero-truth,’ or generally assumed notions of things of everyday life, and of ‘Ultimate Sacred Postulates,’ or the key faith-utterances derived from ritual experience (Rappaport 1999, p. 309). His ritual analysis highlights the force of liturgical dynamics in relation to theological formulations and helps us understand why some priests will see profound relevance in Deliverance Ministry and others simply will not. For it can be argued that liturgical creations become a matrix for theological elaborations even more so than theological assumptions generate the liturgy in the first place. That idea owns a long theological genealogy in the notion Lex orandi, Lex credendi, something of a favored Anglican motif to embrace the idea that the habit of prayer or worship informs the practice of theological reflection and formulation (Stevenson 1988). This is an important factor for the bishops as they consider ‘training’ for their selected Deliverance ministers. These very issues were paramount during the transitional identities of the new Church of England as it both broke and retained bonds with its previous (Roman) Catholic reality. The foundational starting point concerns this Church’s independence from the Roman Catholic Church and its self-understanding as the only source of divine power over evil. King Henry VIII’s 1534 Supremacy of the Crown Act made the monarch the ‘only supreme head in earth of the Church of England, called Anglicana Ecclesia,’ and would lead to numerous shifts in ritual and theology deeply influenced yet not ultimately commandeered by the European Protestant Reformation. This is evident in this Anglican Church’s new ritual book, The First Prayer-Book of King Edward VI (1549), where one of the prayers used in Baptism takes the form of
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an exorcism and, in this, mirrors previous Catholic baptismal practice of including prayers of exorcism; the ritual direction and prayer read, and here I retain all original yet still intelligible spelling (p. 219): Then let the priest lokying upon the chyldren, saye: ‘I commaude thee, uncleane spirite, in the name of the father, of the sonne, and of the holy ghost, that thou come out, and depart from these infantes, whom our Lord Jesus Christe hath vouchsauved, to call to his holy Baptisme, to be made members of his body, and of his holy congregacion. Therfore thou cursed spirite, remembre thy sentence, remembre thy judgemente, remembere the daye to be at hand, wherin thou shalt burne in fyre everlasting, prepared for the [sic] and thy Angels. And presume not hereafter to exercise any tyrannye towards these infants, whom Christe hathe bought with his precious bloud, and by this his holy Baptism callet to be of his flocke.’
In the second edition of this book, published only three years later, in 1552, this prayer of dominant power and exorcism is absent and there appears, in an earlier place than was the case in the 1549 rite, a focus on the godparents, who are addressed in a liturgical question posed by the priest (p. 175): Dost thou forsake the deuyl and al his workes, the vayne pomp and glorye of the world, with al couetouse desyres of the same, the carnall desres of the flesh, so that thou wylt not folow, nor be led by them? Aunswere. I forsake them all.
This shift from a direct commanding of an evil spirit to addressing godparents as members of the Christian community is profoundly significant. It is followed by prayers that speak of the infant being granted power and strength to have victory over and to triumph against the Devil, the world, and the flesh. Though this 1552 book’s liturgy was abolished by the short-lived Catholic Queen Mary, later Anglican prayer books, again under the influence of a moderated Protestantism, retain the absence of any formal ‘exorcism’ but stress promises and prayers to fight against the world, flesh, and the Devil. Such is the case in the next liturgical rite, expressed in The Prayer-Book of Queen Elizabeth 1559 then in the 1662 Book of Common Prayer, which became the foundational rite for the next 300 years, and still remains so, albeit alongside major rites adopted in the 1980s and 2000s. (All these are considered by Young (2018)). In this, ideas of exorcism and of direct confrontation with the Devil were refigured in a more pastoral concern with godparents and parents, their mode of life, and the examples they should set in godly and evil-averse living. Historically speaking, there is also much to be said for analyzing the need for exorcism in terms of antagonism of worldviews. I have already cited the oppositional nature of the second- and third-century Christian Church to the ‘swarming evils’ around it. When a religious institution has achieved power it may, of course, retain its rites of control, but it may also no longer require them. This is, perhaps, evident in Keith Thomas’s work, where he cites the English Reformation Bishop Jewel as saying that “the power to cast out devils had been a special gift, conceded in the heroic age of the early Christian Church, but no longer necessary in a time of established faith” (Thomas 1973, p. 571). The symbolic power of the Devil is simply diminished in the new State Churches of the Reformation when these are also the vehicles of a degree of Enlightenment thinking.
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If now we move from the sixteenth to the mid to late twentieth century we can bring sharp focus to the rather unanticipated emergence of the Charismatic movement at large, and within the Church of England, from the later 1960s and on into the 1970s to 1990s and to today. This posed new questions and issues concerning spirit-powers and biblical interpretation and, social scientifically speaking, highlights the very notion of personhood and of how the world works. While the 400 year or so run of Church of England Prayer Books had retained textual reference to the Devil, its greater developmental emphasis fell upon the reception of the Holy Spirit as a dynamic rooting for the religious life. The 1549 rite spoke of children being “baptised with the holy ghost,” something that “by nature they cannot haue,” a phrase repeated in the 1552 and subsequent texts, and accompanied by the idea of spiritual regeneration aligned with the baptismal rite. In other words, a positive stress on the Holy Spirit and not on the negative effects of the Devil comes to prominence. Though lying beyond the scope of this chapter, this distinction poses clear theological issues regarding the classification of these positive and negative dynamics of supernatural forces. Young (2018) has provided further liturgical detail in terms of modern service books. These shifts in liturgical formulae express their own iceberg-tips of theological- political differences between ongoing Catholic-influenced and Protestant-influenced groups within the Church of England. The nineteenth century, for example, witnessed the emergence of the Tractarian or Oxford Movement in the 1830s and 1840s, that echoed aspects of the High Churchmen of the later seventeenth century who fostered the ideal of the Church of England’s continuity with the Roman Catholic Church and its apostolic succession of bishops, often captured in the title ‘Ango-Catholic’ as opposed to ‘Roman Catholic’ identity. The opposing trend, echoing Protestant attitudes to the Bible and often identified as Evangelical, tended to accentuate the personal-individual appropriation of the Holy Spirit in a more self- conscious and non-liturgical fashion. Accordingly, over time, the precise nature of ‘regeneration,’ or ‘baptismal regeneration’ as it was more acutely focused and accepted within the Anglo-Catholic tradition was, most cautiously, objected to by Evangelicals, given their emphasis upon personal reception of the Holy Spirit in a personal heart-centered conversion. This difference colored ideas of the Holy Spirit, spirit power, and appropriate means and media of spirit-power reception. Meanwhile a Broad Church, middle way (Anglicanism’s classic via media) or rather liberal group, also established itself, so that by the middle of the twentieth century the Church of England could be described in terms of these three forms of ‘churchmanship’ – a term predating today’s gendered sensitivity of identities – and has even been described as a mélange (Pickering 1988, p. 370). This three-foldness, which was reinforced by ‘party’ training colleges and various other associations for the clergy, importantly sets the scene for the arrival on the British religious map of the Charismatic movement, largely from the later 1960s. This movement was institutionally distinct from the various Pentecostal groups that had existed as distinct denominations that emerged in the UK in the 1920s as extensions of dynamic experiences of the Holy Spirit in the USA. One key feature of such Pentecostalism that now extended into several non-Pentecostal UK denominations
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was that of glossolalia, or speaking in tongues, sometimes described as being ‘baptized in the Spirit.’ This did not refer to baptismal regeneration through formal water-baptism but to an experience encountered not only in group events but also during private prayer or at some moment of spontaneous verbal production. In many respects this was more a middle-class wave of experientialism than was the more working-class Pentecostalism of the earlier twentieth century (Davies 1984). This spiritual advent set up a challenge to the existing dynamic tensions between the sacramental focus of the Anglo-Catholics, the disciplined biblical spirituality of the Evangelicals, and the liberal interpretation of religion and religious experience of the Broad Church centralist party. This triple branded churchmanship had, in one way or another, existed in more obvious dynamic tension for nearly two centuries, and long possessed distinctive styles of worship. The arrival of the Charismatic movement influenced all of them in a variety of ways, both positive and negative, not least in terms of the notion of possession and its ‘treatment,’ and the worldview within which these operated, including the notion of evil; and evil is important within the dialectical ground-base of God’s creativity and the emergence of oppositional negativity.
8.3 Worldviews, Evil, and Tonality However, in approaching ‘evil’ in this chapter I choose to do so through some established social scientific thinkers and not in terms of formal systematic theology. I do so by fixing on two valuable theoretical approaches to ‘evil’ identified in the interplay of cognitive and affective dimensions of life experience, and drawn from the sociological work of Max Weber and Bryan Wilson. To help relate these perspectives to this chapter I will deploy the additional notion of ‘tonality’ as a means of understanding the ritual-symbolic practice of different religious groups, and of the way they seem to depict and manage ‘spirit power.’ Three sociological approaches, those of Max Weber, Clifford Geertz, and Bryan Wilson, will make the ‘tonal’ point.
8.3.1 Weber One clear theoretical base originates in Weber’s concept of a distinctive religious mood, or Gesinnungsethik, something he described as “the true instrument of salvation” (1966 [1922]). The value of this notion lies in the fact that it is designates something more complex than ‘emotion’ or ‘sentiment,’ spanning as it does ethical and affective aspects of existence, while also embracing mental dispositions, attitudes, convictions, and persuasion. This was all part of his broad approach to ‘understanding’ social life as portrayed in his much debated Protestant Ethic thesis, which aligned the theological idea of predestination and its formidable notion that nobody could actually know if they were predestined to eternal life or death, with
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the idea that God blessed His own people. A carefully managed life, with its practical religion of ethical control of resources, could hint at a person’s being on the eternal life list and not on the damnation list. The ensuing ‘capitalist’ success story of pious merchants alerts us to the interplay of ideology and action and invites the challenging task of designating religious moods within the Church of England and their relevance to possession.
8.3.2 Geertz Another perspective that will help in moving to possession lies in Geertz’s well- known cultural definition of religion, which included a focus on “long-lasting moods and motivations” aligned with “conceptions of a general order of existence” that led to such moods and motivations seeming to be “uniquely realistic” (1973, p. 4). This is important material because it fully acknowledges the emotional dimension within human thinking and practice. Both Weber and Geertz, sociologist and anthropologist alike, encourage us to approach the Church of England, its moods, motivations, and practical action in terms of spirit possession.
8.3.3 Wilson The third theoretical resource lies in Bryan Wilson’s sociological depiction of sects. Its focus on sects should not be counted against its deployment as far as the Church status of the Church of England is concerned, not least because aspects of the Charismatic movement influenced areas of that Church in ways that some see as sect-like. But, beyond that, Wilson is dealing with social organizations at large and does so in one particular way that makes his approach distinctly valuable for our discussion of possession. For he grounded his typology of sects in how each movement depicted evil and then dealt with it. Just why he did this is not entirely clear, though my hypothesis is that his Weberian sociological interests came to be complemented by his familiarity with the anthropological work of Evans-Pritchard, also a Fellow of All Souls College, Oxford, whose African ethnography offered its own form of attitudes towards misfortune (or evil) and accounts of how to cope with it. Evans-Pritchard’s Witchcraft and Oracles amongst the Azande (1937) had already become an anthropological classic by the time Wilson became personally familiar with him. The Azande ethnography depicted ways in which that people approached and managed situations of difficulty, stress, anxiety, illness, death, and the like. In all this, his overarching concern was with misfortune and what we could describe as ‘evil,’ as I have argued elsewhere when aligning notions of evil and plausibility theory and evil and witchcraft (Davies 1984). As for Wilson, one of his clearest expressions of the ‘evil’ motif speaks of how
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[m]en seek salvation from evil conceived in many forms – from anxiety; illness; inferiority feelings; grief; fear of death; concern for the social order. What they seek may be healing; the elimination of evil agents; a sense of access to power; the promise of life hereafter, or reincarnation, or resurrection from the grave, or attention from posterity; the transformation of the social order (including the restoration of a real or imagined past order). The common core of all these specific forms of salvation is the demand for reassurance. (1973, p. 429)
Two expressions from this quotation speak volumes for the Church of England’s response to possession and its functional tonality in so responding: (a) “healing; the elimination of evil agents,” and (b) “the demand for reassurance.” Both are theoretically significant not only because they capture the generic human drive for meaning – a key Weberian theme – nor because of its emotional allusion, itself an echo of Evans-Pritchard’s witchcraft studies, but because of its distinctive resonance with a State Church and its social-spiritual role.
8.4 Deliverance Ministry: The Church of England Way Our previous theoretical discussions now place us in a position to appreciate how the Church of England came firmly to contextualize the possession-exorcism topic less in terms of ‘possession’ and ‘exorcism’ and much more as one form of ministry, notably of ‘healing ministry,’ now typified as Deliverance Ministry. In the Foreword to the first relevant text, the Bishop of Exeter, Robert Mortimer, speaks of being “much disturbed” in 1963 by the “unhealthy and near-hysterical publicity” of the national press of the issue of exorcism in the Church of England. He accordingly convened a group of seven people to consider the topic. Appearing in 1972, the findings of the commission defined Christian exorcism as “the binding of evil powers by the triumph of Christ Jesus, through the application of the power demonstrated by that triumph, within his Church,” and stressed that it is only “demons” that are exorcized and that the term “must never be applied to humans as such” (Petitpierre 1972, p. 16). “Phenomena that might express or prompt problems embraced the souls of the departed, human sin, especially sexual misbehaviour, human greed linked to business premises, place-memories, poltergeists, and demonic interference; reflecting three quite different types of forces…human, impersonal, and demonic” (Petitpierre 1972, pp. 21–22). Reference is always made to a ‘patient’ and it is to be assumed that physical or mental causes underlie most cases. This brief text then offers a variety of prayers and instructions for the use of holy water – even including prayers for ‘exorcism’ and then blessing both the water and the salt that goes into it, to yield holy water. The stress on ‘forces’ is especially important as a key to a sociological analysis of ecclesial authorities seeing themselves as mobilizing the power of the Church to enact the power of Christ against negative powers of all sorts. There is also a brief section on ‘safeguarding’ which pinpoints the need for exorcism to be under the ultimate control of a bishop; it invokes Canon Law (LXXII) of 1604, which recommends that each diocesan bishop should establish a representative priest to bring
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this about. One anthropologically interesting point lies in the directive that the priest and his assistants should move around a house – the domestic scene seems to be paramount here – praying and sprinkling holy water and ensuring that all doors and cupboard doors should be open and not left closed. In other words, boundaries that might be containing forces should be removed. If cotton wool had been used to remove any holy oil that might also have been used to anoint the patient, then it should be burnt at the close of the ritual. Finally, all persons involved should gather as one group for a final blessing. Two further phenomena are worth enumerating because they reappear in subsequent literature, viz., that able persons should be present to restrain the patient in any “violent activity,” preferably in a deep armchair, and that a second priest should be present lest the officiant “experience sudden doubt or fear”: this is underscored as “not a trivial point” (Petitpierre 1972, p. 36). The ritual behavior advocated in all this should not be disconnected from the fact that of the commissioned group of seven, two were Jesuit priests, and, given ongoing Anglican concerns, that another member was an Anglican priest who was also a consultant psychiatrist; another was well-known Professor Eric Mascall, a systematic theologian of King’s College, London. Dom Robert Petitpierre, another Anglican Priest, was a member and edited the small volume. He then, in 1976, published his own extensive volume, Exorcising Devils, that elaborated many of these features as well as adding numerous anecdotal case studies going back to his own family – a father owning ‘telepathic powers,’ infancy, childhood, and undergraduate life at Oxford, including his friendship with Gilbert Shaw, another key person in this network of interested parties (Petitpierre 1976, p. 10). One of his sharp points is that “demonic control of any person is extremely rare,” and of “several hundreds” of cases he can recall “only…one case of genuine demonic control.” More specifically still, he states that “no more than one per cent of the all the cases coming forward” are demonic in the full sense (1976, pp. 26, 37). Nevertheless, he advises that if “as sometimes happens, there are violent physical reactions, the patient should be firmly held down” (1976, p. 161). Against that kind of information, it is understandable that Petitpierre expresses his sense that “the real future of exorcism” lies in “the healing ministry” (1976, p. 37). Following that commissioned report, the Church published, in 1975, The House of Bishops’ Guidelines for Good Practice in the Deliverance Ministry and these were revised and republished in 2012. It is a relatively short, three page document, whose five-point subdivisions are instructive, as “Deliverance Ministry” becomes the dominant motif, with the “demand for reassurance” being set within the authentic power structure of the hierarchical Church of England, itself an organ of State, and of allied welfare professionals. The preamble to the 2012 version includes reference to a 2009 “comprehensive survey and review of deliverance ministry…from every diocese in the Church of England.” It also speaks of “an increased awareness of a wide range of areas including mental health and safeguarding” as part of “such a sensitive ministry.” While that survey is not publically available, the Bishops’ document does refer to “the uneven nature of much deliverance ministry practice.” Its reference to ‘safeguarding’ and ‘mental health’ should probably be read alongside that Church’s concern
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over ‘safeguarding’ at large, most especially in terms of sexual safety, as that has become an ever increasing ethical, institutional, and legal concern of professional ministry. Again Young is valuable on cautionary cases of exorcism (2018, pp. 108–139). However, these factors emerge in the five-point guidelines which state that the Ministry of Deliverance ‘should be’: 1 . Undertaken by experienced persons authorized by the diocesan bishop; 2. Done in the context of prayer and sacrament; 3. Done in collaboration with the resources of medicine; 4. Followed up by continuing pastoral care; 5. Done with the minimum of publicity. Point 1 does use the phrase “exorcism and deliverance,” and point 2 speaks of the possibility of “an exorcism” being performed. Amongst the telling pieces of advice we find reference to the need for accountability, authorization, always engaging in joint and not individual activity, and the need for being covered by “adequate insurance,” available through the local diocesan office. The fifth point stresses “the privacy and dignity of individuals and families,” as well as the keeping of confidential records, within the constraints of The Data Protection Act. This stress on publicity is almost certainly a response to some high profile media-attractive exorcisms; so, too, point 2 stresses that “language, body language and touch should be courteous and considerate,” and that “no one should receive ministry against their will.” This contrasts with exorcisms filmed and publicized with the exorcist shouting out divine names against the possessing spirits, and especially publicity of children exorcized of evil spirits believed in by parents (and, probably, some independent Protestant Church pastors), notably from, for example, some African cultural contexts of spirit possession practices, and also publicity of more UK originating events – some discussed in Neal Milner’s excellent study of Church of England exorcism, originally published in 2000. Milner analyses the Church’s desire not to lose control and its own autonomy in a social context where spirit powers are abroad. He speaks of how the Church of England’s “exorcism policy is not so much a resistance to modernity and secularism as it is a very explicit attempt to accommodate contemporary, secular cultures…accommodates itself to the domination of conventional medicine…is a way of controlling charisma…as much ‘magic’ as possible is removed” (Milner 2000, p. 269). I think that a great deal of Neal’s study, with its many important bibliographical references, still stands, even if the wider cultural world, not least in the UK, has increasingly given credence to spiritual, natural, and psychological forces of many kinds.
8.4.1 Reassurance as Ministerial Direction And it is this that brings us back to Wilson’s work and his stress on people’s need for reassurance, most especially as the complexity of life increases in contemporary society with its many challenges to identity, meaning, and purpose. The sense that
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there are forces at work in the world, which many are aware of but cannot name, increases the need for that ontological security which Philip Giddens pursued in his sociology of modernity (1991). Whether or not we might wish to place an emphasis on the need to sustain a given sense of identity over and against challenges and change or, for example, as Browning and Joenniemi (2017) argue, pursue a sense of security through contexts of change, the overall drive for meaning will necessitate supportive contexts. One key factor underlining both stability and desired change concerns the framing of the forces that are influencing our sense of identity.
8.4.2 Conspiracy Theory: An Ecclesial Rumour of Spirits Here it would be easy to ignore the pervasive presence of conspiracy theories in the UK (Partridge 2005, 2018; Toseland 2019), a theme seldom considered by Church institutions yet indicative of that social awareness of forces that some groups feel they know are at work and can, to some degree, identify. Perhaps we could suggest, albeit in rather stark fashion, and in a way the Church would hardly recognize at all, that the Church of England’s Ministry of Deliverance is, to some degree, and unwittingly, its own form of participation in Conspiracy Theory. Though lying beyond the scope of this chapter, by this I mean to say that it acknowledges the complexity of life circumstances and exerts its own mode of dealing with the forces at work, rather echoing Milner’s understanding of the Church formally engaging in the arena of religious-secular meanings. It does not want to be left out of ‘things’ – spiritual things pertaining to human welfare, or in the religious expansion of that term, ‘salvation’ – but yet manifestly asserts its alliance with the medical-scientific professionalism of healthcare. Here it is not irrelevant to note that while sociologist Peter Berger once wrote of ‘the rumour of angels,’ we now find ‘angels’ appearing across swathes of clustered popular ideas. Angels are in the news at the very time the Church of England is rethinking ‘Deliverance Ministry.’ It would need a study of its own to integrate these positive and negative life experiences and the Church’s response. But here I remain with ‘evil’ and take us back to Wilson in terms of his sectarian typology of addressing evil, even though aligning his work on sects with that of an Established Church poses its own problems. Here I simply wish to highlight Wilson as an exponent of Weber’s notion of ‘orientation to the world,’ and ‘the need for salvation’ (Weber (1966 [1922], p. 139). Wilson is certainly focusing on both of these in the two of his seven types of sect that are germane to this chapter, those of the manipulationist and thaumaturgical types. Both refer to some form of ‘localized evil’ and involve their own technique of manipulation and, potentially, wonder working. In terms of the Bishops’ Guidelines and from the four interviews conducted, between January and April 2019, with ordained Anglicans advising on Deliverance Ministry, it seems as though the great number of such ministry events take the form of talking with the persons involved, engaging with them in some form of prayer,
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and blessing them and their domestic situation. Similar activity may apply to some departed person, the presence whose troubled ‘spirit’ may be disturbing to the parishioner. Such contexts are usually associated with someone hearing noises or reckoning that objects move on their own within the house – issues often typified as poltergeist activity – and in such a case the living may perhaps even be advised to acknowledge that they live alongside a happy spirit. Such ministry seems to achieve its goal with no further reference. One relatively experienced priest thought that perhaps some 80% of cases referred to him were really matters of psychological troubles, with another 10% or so being ‘genuine’ but still concerned ordinary phenomena that were ‘really ordinary’ even though they were miss-identified as such by inexpert people. He reckoned that perhaps only 10% were markedly distinctive and he had encountered very few of these indeed. So, too, with two other clergymen in different parts of the UK. As asserted at the beginning of this chapter, the emergent picture is of only a small number of cases deemed to be a possession by some alien agent. Accordingly, ‘major exorcism,’ a term derived from Roman Catholic practice, is rare. I have not been able to ascertain the actual number of such rare cases but each person I have spoken to agreed on their existence, even if they had not had personal experience of them. The crucial nature of such cases hangs on the notion of personhood adopted by the Church, as by the groups it serves. It seems to assume that the ‘possessed’ person, when in their relatively ‘ordinary’ state, possesses agency in a way that allows them to agree to Deliverance Ministry. However, the situation changes if, and when, some ‘other’ agent becomes apparent during the course of Deliverance Ministry. In all of this the notions of personhood, selfhood, and of demonic agency generate a complexity that current theological evaluation seldom encompasses. This, inevitably, also raises the question of the agency of the minister(s) acting in the name of the Church while engaged in Deliverance Ministry. For the moment, however, I can only discuss these issues in terms of the notion of tonality and Deliverance Ministry.
8.4.3 Tone and Authority The issue of tonality within a society and its constituent groups, though alluded to earlier in relation to religious institutions, is a relatively under studied aspect of sociology and the sociology of religion. Some anthropologists are deeply alert to the ethos of a group and to the diverse nature of personhood, and of how contexts affect them (Hardman 2000; Rosaldo 1980). In practical terms, the ‘foreign’ or exotic nature of such ethnographic description may invite our curious consideration, leaving us less alert to similar dynamics in our own society, groups, and times. Such social scientific materials on tonality often exist quite apart from the increasing psychological material on persons who sense agencies at work on or within themselves, as in the growing work on ‘hearing voices.’ I can but hint at these in work on aspects of tone of voices ‘heard’ by patients, often reckoned to be angry
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(Copolov et al. 2004), or the negative content experienced in auditory hallucination (Laroi et al. 2019). Such work highlights professional roles allied with that clinical work, including the NHS, to which the Church is astutely alert. Recent research has, for example, had patients generate computerized images of the negative voices assailing them, and then engage in dialogue with them (Leff et al. 2014). Just how such ‘Avatar Therapy’ embedded in psychological work might relate to Deliverance Ministry is a question all of its own, but does accentuate the caution of the Church in relation to clinical work. These domains raise, yet again, the notion of worldviews. From yet another domain, Norwegian novelist Karl Ove Knausgaard reflects on his own education and the influence of social theorists Roland Barthes and Michel Foucault, as he offers an excellent depiction of “the zeitgeist, the spirit of the time,” in terms of “a certain tone, a certain attitude to the language and form available”; and when he documents Norwegian author Dag Solstad’s work in the 1960s, 1970s, 1980s, and 1990s he refers to the “tone” of each (2019, pp. 15, 18, 14, respectively). When he speaks of these shifting decadal tonalities I am reminded of theological ‘tones’ or emphases of them, too. Such tonality is evident within the Church of England, reflecting the complex interplay of the styles of churchmanship already alluded to, the social class and regional locations of congregations and, increasingly, the gender of the priest. The State wedding of a Royal Prince in Westminster Abbey and of a local couple in working-class Yorkshire would offer obvious examples. But, beyond these too, the feel of Britain, as much influenced by the media as by the prime events they cover, has been and is changing. In terms of the rather different topic of the sociology of Church and sect we might propose that the more socially central or ‘establishment’ an organization is, the more bureaucratically ‘toned’ will be its approach to its aligning of preferred religious experiences and theological repertoire. This is dangerous theoretical territory that needs much greater analysis than I can offer here and we certainly cannot create a simple typology of tonality, though such a venture would have much to offer. Here Weber’s theories concerning a group’s orientation to the world and the type of salvation entailed by it would come into their own. I take my lead, here, from one of the formal statements in the Bishops’ Guidelines, and return to issues already cited from it’s section 2, point 7, making it clear that “[l] anguage, body language and touch should be courteous and considerate.” While appreciating that much of the Guidelines material is informed by the safeguarding criteria of the Church in relation to “children, young people, and vulnerable adults,” my present focus concerns the way this liturgical, ritual-symbolic action reflects a certain social class’s behavioral convention of being ‘courteous and considerate.’ Here we encounter a complex tonality, not simply one of English, and perhaps especially middle-class English, good manners, but a tone possible to and for officiants in a position of social power. Only the socially powerful can be polite to the Devil. Something of this directive carries an echo of accounts of exorcism in non- English derived traditions, perhaps especially from some African backgrounds, where loud commands and shouting at evil spirits is common, and where a kind of pushing of the possessed person’s body into falling into submission will occur.
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Interestingly, the idiom of being ‘slain in the Spirit’ has been common in some Charismatic contexts, but in terms of the Holy Spirit. The Church of England Guidelines seem to advocate and assume a form of relatively calm and controlled liturgical event rather than an all-in wrestling match with the Devil. Nevertheless, such ‘polite’ tonality of interaction would find its own problems if, as one person put it, a ‘person becomes resistant.’ This brings us back to agency and to identity, highlighting the sharp interface of social convention and of a possible theology of personhood. When persons begin in, as it were, their own agency, that is a situation paralleling much ordinary pastoral ministry, but if a person seems to fall under the influence or control of ‘another’ force, let us even call it an evil spirit, then a different scenario ensues. Here the theological ethics become complex in ascertaining that the initially troubled person had agreed to the ecclesial Ministry of Deliverance and that, during that process, a force that was, in a theological sense, not that person was dominant over the individual. Should the priests work, as it were, for the good of the person against his or her currently manifested behavior? This is precisely where the ontological notion of ‘evil’ comes to the fore, and it does so in terms of degree of behavioral shift – perhaps it is better to say of ‘abnormality’ in the scalar nature of how ordinary people behave, especially when distressed or seriously ill. This question of fundamental worldview has already been pinpointed in the fact that while the – admittedly few – Deliverance ministers to whom I have spoken all seem to have a theological mapping or ideological worldview that evaluates the great majority of cases as having a ‘psychological’ or a ‘genuine but misidentified’ source, each retains an awareness of the possibility of a different causation. The two key issues that arise here concern, first, the range of experiences priests are likely to have encountered in terms of ‘psychologically’ disturbed people, and, second, their theology of supernatural evil agents. Because priests in the Church of England necessarily share in the biblical narratives that inform the many theological interpretations of their faith, they participate in facets of a two and a half millennia stream of Jewish-Christian cultures. The various churchmanship styles already discussed provide their own emphases on particular moments in this flow of ideas, beliefs, and rites. This allows some to emphasize the first centuries of biblical texts, or the ensuing patristic, medieval, Reformation, Enlightenment, theistic, modernist, and postmodernist periods, with various elements of liturgy drawing some of those ideas into the life-experience of faith. This domain of personal awareness is vital, complex, and with both verbal and non- verbal roots. Just how priests think about and experience God, Jesus as a resurrected- transformed agent, and the Holy Spirit as a divinely embedded source remains a question all of its own, and this is a crucial factor, for these experiences serve as the matrix for identity, and for priesthood itself. It is interesting that the Church of England’s Doctrine Commission of 1977–1981, reflecting on a time of both liberal and Charismatic theological influences, could allude to a bishop who “might hesitate to license a reader” (a lay office in the Church) “whose teaching was known to show a medieval preoccupation with hell and damnation, even though what he taught could hardly be shown to be compatible with the tradition of the Church” (1981, p. 294). This typifies the cultural entailments of traditions and their
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s ubsequent appropriation, acceptance, or preferred rejection. This liberal, or even moderate Evangelical and Anglo-Catholic, attitude should not be overlooked within today’s Church of England, despite the more obvious ecclesial-theological power- groups of Evangelicals and Anglo-Catholics. This is worth highlighting despite the relatively easy classification of “two distinct approaches to exorcism/deliverance… in the exorcism of the ‘sacramentalists’ and the ‘deliverance of the Charismatics’” (Collins 2009, p. 188). Still, the complexity of the theological situation lies in the fact that hell and damnation are not far removed from the Devil and evil spirits. To disavow the idea of a self-existent Devil and of evil spirits might involve a dissonance of Christian identity, given the way Jesus and parts of Church tradition worked on the assumption of their influence. But to disavow that realm might also seem to denature the realm of positive spiritual forces that priests experience within their own lives and interpret through the layered forms of liturgy, prayer, ethics, and general pastoral ministry. However, not all priestly life exists in integrated coherence, and many are able to major in one cluster of thought and practice without paying too much attention to others: and this seems to be the case with possession. The critical analytical question of whether the Devil ‘exists’ as an evil force is as unacceptable to some as it is obvious to others. It is precisely here that worldview, theology, culture and the mapping of diverse phenomena come into play. Strange noises in the house, poltergeists, apparitions, post-mortem appearances or sensations of the dead, are often categorized in terms of how to cope with them. The ‘explanation’ lies more in the ritual act espoused than in any metaphysics. Though, even here, a kind of folk-belief allows a degree of explanation if, for example, there had been a horrific death in a house, with ideas of place-memories seeming to offer in that very labelling process a degree of understanding of the situation. Just how such an ideology can be aligned with formal theology is a question of its own. One priest spoke of his practice of an initial visit to a home to evaluate the ‘dynamic relationships’ between people, as well as to see what ‘books, or videos’ might be evident there: his search for cues of causation underlying any Deliverance Ministry. One aspect of the classification of a place in terms of harmful spiritual agents lies in the opposite situation of designating places as sites of positive spiritual energies as explored by John Inge, a Church of England bishop (2003). Human life is enormously complex, and so are the situations in which people find themselves and subsequently may either seek, or have it suggested to them, that they receive Deliverance Ministry. This is where phenomena such as, for example, speech impediments or sexual orientation enter the stage. For most Britons, I suspect, these are ‘natural’ phenomena and, in Rappaport’s terms alluded to earlier, lie amongst the deutero-truths of everyday life. But, even these can be interpreted as influenced by possession and amenable to deliverance, and typify a spirit-pervaded worldview where the power of the Holy Spirit can be set against the power of evil spirits. This would bring even a stutter into a ritual situation engaged with the Ultimate Sacred Postulates of the Lordship of Christ over the domains of evil. Speech impediment or sexual orientation or any number of activities may be unacceptable to some religious folk. These might seem like two ends of a spectrum of
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human experience lying well beyond ‘deliverance,’ with the sexuality factor pinpointing the nature of individual agency and identity. In today’s Britain, the issue of sexuality and gender, notably within the Church of England’s own debates, looms large and spotlights the safeguarding factors already emphasized as a powerful sub- text of the Bishops’ Guidance.
8.5 C onclusion: Ministering to the Spirits, Coding and Coping The desire to preserve professional-clerical integrity and to practice beliefs in divine love for humanity underlie today’s dominant action for safeguarding in the Church of England. Errors and cautionary cases, along with their criminal and economic consequences, let alone the harm done to popular views of Churches, demand this. What is interesting, indeed, intriguing, about possession and exorcism in the contemporary Church of England is that these desires need bureaucratic, legal, and liturgical action in relation not to ‘facts’ but to ‘beliefs,’ and to theological and hermeneutical factors. This is not a new situation nor a simple one. For the Church of England is set about considering ‘spirits’ at the very time it is also engaged in discussing homosexuality and gender issues, which also necessitate interpretation of texts and tradition, and there is little agreement on these things by some conservative and liberal exegetical theologians; and it is the same with spirits. Interpretation, or hermeneutics, as theologians often prefer to describe the task of grasping the sense of texts and ideas of different times and places in new times and places and through ever developing thought-forms, always leads from one issue to another. In one sense, hermeneutics achieves the ‘coding’ job of understanding a situation, while ‘coping’ with it falls to liturgy and ministry, with ethics straddling the two. But, when coding, one thing often leads to another, and so it is in this Conclusion, where I take the duty of care and Deliverance Ministry motifs a step forward. I do so by invoking but one 1970s contribution to The Case for Possession in which Cynthia Pettiward (1975), echoing several key exorcists of that period, sympathetically asks whether some spirits that may trouble or even possess a living person might not, themselves, be “discarnate humans” (1975, p. 113). She advocated a kind of pastoral ministry to the spirits as such. To exorcise a discarnate human without making any attempt to find out the cause of his trouble seems to me to be paralleled by the giving of tranquillisers to nervous patients without finding what ails them. (Pettiward 1975, p. 116)
In today’s Church of England, some 40 or so years later, the ‘Deliverance Ministry’ intended for the disturbed parishioner almost invites the ‘duty of care’ motif for the disturbing spirit. Perhaps this is the place where ‘safeguarding’ stands as the paradoxical signpost between dialogically opposed worldviews mutually coexisting in this State organization that must code and cope alongside the National Health
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Service’s codes and copings, while legal authorities watch on and insurance policies safeguard safeguarding. Acknowledgement Let me thank Professor Eileen Barker, a long-standing friend, without whose convivial company this chapter would not have been written.
References Beit-Hallahmi. (1992). Despair and deliverance: Private spirituality in contemporary Israel. Albany: State University New York. Blatty, W. P. (1972). The exorcist. London: Corgi Books. Browning, Christopher S. and Pertti, Joenniemi. (2017). ‘Ontological security, self-articulation and the securitization of identity’. Co-operation and Conflict, 52 (1), 31–47. Collins, J. M. (2009). Exorcism and deliverance ministry in the twentieth century. Eugene: WIPF and STOCK. Copolov, D. L., Mackinnon, A., & Trauer, T. (2004). Correlates of the affective impact of auditory hallucinations in psychotic disorder. Schizophrenia Bulletin, 30(1), 163–171. Davies, D. J. (1984). The Charismatic ethic and the spirit of post-industrialism. In D. Martin & P. Mullen (Eds.), Strange gifts. London: SPCK. Davies, D. J. (2015). Mors Britannica: Lifestyle and death-style in Britain today. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Davies, D. J. (2017). Death, ritual and belief: The rhetoric of funerary rites (3rd ed.). London: Bloomsbury. Davies, D. J. (2019). Sociology of ministry. In M. Percy with I. S. Markham, E. Percy & F. Po (Eds.), The study of ministry (pp. 56–69). London: SPCK. Doctrine Commission of the Church of England. (1981). Believing in the Church: The corporate nature of faith. London: SPCK. Droogers, A., & van Harskamp, A. (2014). Methods for the study of religious change: From religious to worldview studies. Sheffield: Equinox. Geertz, C. (1973). Religion as a cultural system (C. Geertz, Ed.). London: Tavistock. Giddens, P. (1991). Modernity and self-identity: Self and society in the late modern age. Cambridge: Polity Press. Godbeer, R. (1992). The Devil’s dominion. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Greenwood, S. (2000). Magic, witchcraft and the otherworld. Oxford: Berg. Hardman, C. E. (2000). Other worlds: Notions of self and emotion among the Lohorung Rai. Oxford: Berg. Inge, J. (2003). A Christian theology of place. Aldershot: Ashgate. Kelly, H. A. (2006). Satan: A biography. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Kim, C. (2003). Korean shamanism: The cultural paradox. Aldershot: Ashgate. Knausgaard, K. O. (2019). So much longing in so little space: The art of Edvard Munch. (I. Burkey, Trans.). London: Harvill Secker. Laroi, F., Thomas, N., Aleman, A., Ferneyhough, C., Wilkinson, S., Dearmer, F., & McCarthy, S. (2019). The ice in the voice: Understanding negative content in auditory verbal hallucinations. Clinical Psychology Review, 67(Feb. 2019), 1–10. Leff, J., Williams, G., Huckvale, M., Arbuthnot, M., & Leff, P. A. (2014) Avatar therapy for persecutory auditory hallucinations: What is it and how does it work? Psychosis, 6(2), 166–176. Accessed 16 April 2019 at https://doi.org/10.1080/17522439.2013.773457 Lewis, I. M. (1971). Ecstatic religion: An anthropological study of spirit possession and Shamanism. Harmondsworth: Penguin Books. Lindquist, G. (2006). Conjuring hope: Healing and magic in contemporary Russia. Oxford: Berg.
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Mageo, J. M., & Howard, A. (1996). Spirits in culture, history and mind. London: Routledge. Milner, N. (2000). Giving the Devil his due: Exorcism and the Church of England. Journal of Contemporary Religion, 15(2), 247–272. Neil-Smith, C. (1974). The exorcist and the possessed. St Ives: James Pike Ltd.. Nicolotti, A. (2011). Esorcismo Cristiana e possession diabolica tra II e III secolo. Belgium: Brepols Pubs. Partridge, C. (2005). The re-enchantment of the West, vol. 2. Alternative spiritualities, sacralization, and popular culture. London: T. & T. Clark, Continuum Imprint. Partridge, C. (2018). Close companions? Esotericism and conspiracy theories. In Handbook of conspiracy theories and contemporary religion (pp. 180–206). Leiden: Brill. Petitpierre, D. R. (1972). Exorcism: The findings of a Commission convened by the Bishop of Exeter. London: SPCK. Petitpierre, D. R. (1976). Exorcising devils. London: Robert Hale. Pettiward, C. (1975). The case for possession. Gerrards Cross: Colin Smythe Ltd.. Pickering, W. S. F. (1988). Sociology of Anglicanism. In S. Sykes & J. Booty (Eds.), The study of Anglicanism (pp. 364–375). London: SPCK. Rappaport, R. (1999). Ritual and religion in the making of humanity. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Rosaldo, M. Z. (1980). Knowledge and passion: Ilongot notions of self and social life. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Stevenson, W. T. (1988). Lex orandi-lex credendi. In S. Sykes & J. Booty (Eds.), The study of Anglicanism (pp. 174–187). London: SPCK. The first prayer-book of King Edward VI. 1549. (n.d.). Reprinted from a copy in the British Museum. London: Griffith, Farran, Okeden and Welsh. The second prayer-book of King Edward VI. 1552. (n.d.). Reprinted from a copy in the British Museum. London/Sydney: Griffith, Farran, Okeden & Welsh. The prayer-book of Queen Elizabeth 1559. (n.d.). Printed from originals in the British Museum and other public libraries. London/Sydney: Griffith, Farran, Okeden & Welsh. Thomas, K. (1973). Religion and the decline of magic. Harmondsworth: Penguin. Toseland, N. (2019). Truth, ‘conspiracy theorists’, and theories: An ethnographic study of ‘truth- seeking’ in contemporary Britain. Doctoral dissertation, University of Durham. Weber, M. (1966 [1922]). The sociology of religion (E. Fischer, Trans. with Introduction by T. Parsons). London: Methuen and Co. Ltd. Wilson, B. R. (1973). Magic and the millennium. London: Heinemann. Wood, M. (2007). Possession, power and the New Age. Aldershot: Ashgate. Young, F. (2018). A history of Anglican exorcism: Deliverance and demonology in Church ritual. London: Bloomsbury Academic.
Chapter 9
Spiritual Flows and Obstructions: Local Deliverance in The Universal Church of the Kingdom of God Kathleen Openshaw Abstract Every Friday, ‘strong prayers’ and violent spiritual confrontations can be heard coming from the Australian headquarters of the Brazilian Pentecostal megachurch The Universal Church of the Kingdom of God (UCKG). Deliverance services are where the UCKG’s predominantly disenfranchised migrant congregants battle malignant supernatural forces that ‘block’ the flow of prosperity to their lives in Australia. In the UCKG evil is hyper-mobile. Not only do evil forces move across the blurred boundaries between the physical and the supernatural realm, but evil is also personally and locally malleable. It can be inherited through generational curses, travels via routes of migration and through the transnational networks of the UCKG. Drawing on 2 years of ethnographic research in the Australian headquarters of the UCKG, I argue that the UCKG’s global and hyper-mobile supernatural nexus is characterized by spiritual ‘flows’ and ‘blockages’ manifested through the bodies and lives of its local congregants. In this chapter, my discussion of spiritual deliverance will show how local lived and embodied experiences are embedded within the currents and exchanges of globally mobile religions. Keywords The Universal Church of the Kingdom of God · Deliverance · Spiritual warfare · Transnationalism · Existential mobility
9.1 My Spiritual Battle In the early days of my fieldwork, I travelled interstate for a week-long academic conference. I decided to visit a small branch of The Universal Church of the Kingdom of God (UCKG/Universal Church) on the outskirts the city. In good spirits, I made my way towards the humble red brick public hall the UCKG rented twice a week. A tall Fijian man welcomed me as I crossed the threshold, and a neatly K. Openshaw (*) Western Sydney University, Sydney, NSW, Australia e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 G. Giordan, A. Possamai (eds.), The Social Scientific Study of Exorcism in Christianity, Popular Culture, Religion and Society. A Social-Scientific Approach 3, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-43173-0_9
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dressed African assistant showed me to my seat. There were fewer than ten of us waiting for the service to begin. From the moment the pastor entered, the atmosphere of the quiet hall changed. My ears were assaulted by the Brazilian pastor’s booming voice as it echoed through the near empty hall. He paced with force as he preached and he gestured intensely with his whole body. Sweat beaded on his forehead from his exertion. During the service we were instructed to leave our seats, approach the front of the hall, line up and then close our eyes. I obeyed. It was a Sunday morning service, the day of ‘empowerment.’ I was not expecting what was to follow, because of my experience of ‘lighter,’ more jovial Sunday services in the Church’s Australian headquarters (in Liverpool, New South Wales) where, by that stage, I had been doing fieldwork for a couple of months. I could hear the pastor’s aggressive prayers coming ever closer to me. I froze as I felt his heavy hand on my head. The pressure was uncomfortable, and his onslaught of prayers stunned me. He was moving my head back and forth in such a vicious way that I felt my neck was going to snap. Heat rushed up from my lower legs, eventually flushing my face. I felt on fire and very dizzy. I can only recall flashbacks of the pastor shouting inches from my face, ordering ‘the strongest one, the Boss’ to leave me. His piercing eyes burned into me. I eventually found my voice and pleaded with the pastor that I sit down. The other congregants minded their own business, literally shutting their eyes to my plight. I felt exposed and alone. As I sat, attempting to recover, the pastor did not allow me any rest. Instead he loudly interrogated me. Why did I feel ill? What was stirring in me? Did I go to church? After receiving no intelligible answers, as I teetered on the verge of fainting, the pastor, annoyed, left me to sit uncomforted. He simply moved on to the woman next in the deliverance queue. I was feeling poorly leaving the service, and was grateful for the express train back to the city. I felt worse as the day progressed. The pressure in my head was unbearable. I became suffocated by the Sunday-noises of the city – the ticking of traffic lights, crying children, rambunctious adolescents, bicycle bells. As I stumbled through the city, I was followed by a dishevelled homeless man with pitch black eyes, who would appear and disappear as I frantically darted down side-streets to try ‘lose’ him. I fled to the safety of my hotel room, locked the door and barricaded myself in with suitcases and a chair. I spent the afternoon between broken sleep and a disassociated reality. I was unstable on my feet, could not rid my mouth of an acrid taste and the feeling of something lodged in my throat. I felt spiritually violated and deeply disturbed by the corporeal and emotional fallout of this interaction. I raise my own experience of deliverance practices during this fieldwork trip in order to illustrate the foundation of how I came to an embodied understanding of what it means to be ‘delivered’ in the Universal Church. The Universal Church is a neo-Pentecostal, transnational church established in Rio de Janeiro in 1977. The UCKG in Brazil is mostly attended by the poor. In 2006, the UCKG opened its first Australian branch, and now headquarters, in Liverpool, a working-class suburb in Greater Western Sydney, one of the most culturally eclectic regions in New South Wales. The UCKG in Australia is not attended by Sydney’s Brazilian diaspora (who tend to be middle-class), nor is it attended by
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Anglo-Australians, but rather by socially and economically disenfranchised migrants from the Global South. The Australian headquarters’ congregation largely comprises of Indo-Fijians, South Sudanese, and Samoans, with a small number of congregants from other countries (including Uruguay, Ghana, South Africa, and Iraq). These congregants (some of whom are Australian citizens, and others who are not) find themselves in Australia through marriage, asylum seeking, and working visas. For many who attend the Universal Church, their life circumstances are characterized by spiritual flows and blockages (in the form of challenges and precarity), and a quest for existential mobility (Hage 2009). Anthropologist Ghassan Hage (2009) argues that a good life is embedded in what he refers to as ‘existential mobility’ – experiencing life as ‘going somewhere.’ The opposite is ‘existential immobility’ or ‘stuckedness.’ Hage posits (2009, p. 98) that people engage in a physical form of mobility (migration) because they seek existential mobility, and thus move to a space that constitutes a suitable launching pad for their social and existential aspirations. The Universal Church offers a spiritually suitable explanation for congregants’ stuckedness, and facilitates the process of spiritual liberation – this usually marks the beginning of their conversion. The Universal Church teaches that although challenges and physical illness are part of human existence, persistent cycles of suffering point to something nefarious. These hardships are believed to have spiritual roots – and spiritual problems require spiritual solutions. Deliverance is the only remedy. Indeed, deliverance removes the malicious forces from the lives, and bodies, of possessed persons in the UCKG. Not all spiritual purges are physically violent, and not all have such a prolonged physical effect on the person as mine had. Certainly, some who undergo deliverance appear euphoric afterwards. However, what is clear is that this is not a pleasant process. Deliverance requires a certain vulnerability on the part of the possessed individuals, where they entrust their spiritual well-being to the consecrated hands of pastors; their demons are literally exposed to strangers. The exposure, of those suffering, to the UCKG’s aggressive and public deliverance can be particularly confronting for researchers, but it is also what gives congregants the warrior mentality to fight in the spiritual war, and the tenacity to transform their earthly lives. This chapter argues that the UCKG’s global and hyper-mobile supernatural nexus is characterized by spiritual ‘flows’ and ‘blockages’ manifested through the bodies and lives of its local congregants. Through the purging process of deliverance, the possessed bodies in the UCKG manifest local and global connections as well as earthly and supernatural ones, making invisible forces from across worlds visible. Using material religion as a theoretical framework, this chapter highlights how deliverance practices in the UCKG are both material and universal. This chapter draws on my ethnographic research in the Australian UCKG headquarters and other branches in the country between August 2015 and May 2017, as well as a five-day pilgrimage with UCKG congregants to one of the Church’s most sacred sites, the Temple of Solomon in São Paulo, Brazil. During my fieldwork, I attended multiple services each week as well as the special proselytizing events held by the Church. I also actively followed the UCKG’s online content (websites, social
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media accounts, live streams), and listened to three weekly radio programs hosted on the local Western Suburbs radio station. I used the grey materials (for instance, leaflets, prayer request cards, UCKG produced newspapers) and the Church’s material culture (such as anointing oil, holy water, and consecrated salt) that I gathered during my research, as data. All names in this chapter are pseudonyms. In what follows, I first define deliverance, as opposed to exorcism. I then discuss deliverance in the UCKG as influenced by Brazil’s religious landscape, and how it is entwined with spiritual warfare. Next, I discuss deliverance in the UCKG with particular reference to how ‘strong words’ are important in the spiritual war, and how evil in the Australian headquarters is hyper-mobile. Deliverance, in the Universal Church, speaks to the spiritual sensibilities of its congregants. I demonstrate how the UCKG’s spiritual war provides individuals with a culturally familiar rationale for the challenges and hardships they face. In this section of the chapter, I also focus on the possessed body. Bodies are battlegrounds where the local and global, the earthly and the supernatural do battle.
9.2 Deliverance Is Not Exorcism This chapter is concerned with the process of deliverance rather than the formalized ritual of exorcism. ‘Exorcism’ is not used in the UCKG, and does not adequately capture what I found in my fieldwork. Deliverance, in the UCKG, is about spiritual liberation that extends beyond a one-off expulsion of evil. Brown’s (2011, p. 5) distinction between exorcism and deliverance captures the essence of liberation that congregants aspire to in the Universal Church: Although the term ‘exorcism’ can properly be used to refer to efforts (most of which are not dramatic) to cast out evil spirits, the alternative terms ‘deliverance’ or ‘liberation’ borrowed from the Spanish liberación (Portuguese: libertação), underline the priority for participants of freeing individuals from oppression rather than focusing on the demons themselves.
Deliverance is a process of spiritual cleansing in order to free the possessed person from spiritual captivity. Although the UCKG’s cosmovision is easily translatable to its global congregation’s diverse spiritual sensibilities, it is often viewed with suspicion where mainstream society does not embrace an enchanted worldview, including diabolical spiritual warfare. For instance, amid negative press1 and rumors about their spiritual cleansing practices, the Universal Church (UCKG n.d.) in the United Kingdom made the following clarifying statement on its website:
1 One highly publicized case that firmly placed the UCKG’s deliverance practices under public scrutiny was the death of eight-year-old Victoria Climbié in the UK, in 2000. Victoria was brought to the Finsbury Park branch in north London a few days before her death. She was believed by her carers to be possessed by evil spirits. Victoria reportedly died with 128 separate injuries to her body after suffering months of abuse and neglect at the hands of her carers. Following an investigation, the Universal Church was cleared of all involvement in Victoria’s death.
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Unlike some Christian churches including Roman Catholics and the Church of England, the UCKG HelpCentre does not practise exorcism. Instead, it offers deliverance services designed to pray for spiritual cleansing from all negativity, which often helps those attending to gain greater peace of mind.
In order to instil credibility into its practices in the United Kingdom, the UCKG’s statement avoids the emotive language and reference to spiritual infirmity and its causes (such as witchcraft, curses, and spirit possession) so commonplace in its advertisements and services. Deliverance is presented to the sceptical secular public in a framework that resembles a psychological therapy that takes place in a counsellor’s office, rather than on a spiritual battlefield. This may be because the UCKG tailors its public statements to avoid scandal, given that the UK’s general public is largely not religious. In 2017 the National Centre for Social Research (NatCen) released the results from its 2016 British Social Attitudes survey, which indicated that the proportion of people in Britain who described themselves as having no religion is at its highest ever level – 53% of the British public now describe themselves as having ‘no religion’ (NatCen 2017). Moreover, the Universal Church, as is characteristic of its well-known antagonistic attitude toward other religions, distances itself from the term ‘exorcism’ and its Hollywood dramatics by attributing it to Catholicism, and as the statement above indicates, to mainstream Churches.2 What the Universal Church emphasizes is beyond exorcism. In the UCKG, companions of war engage in ongoing battles for the full spiritual liberation of individuals from evil oppression. Deliverance is typically, but certainly not exclusively, undergone by new congregants and can be understood in two broad stages: that of the initial dramatic expulsion, and then the everyday labor of keeping the Devil at bay. Thus, it is focused both on casting out demons, and on the long-term liberation from evil in order to ‘tie-up’ the evil that creates impasses in individuals’ lives. Spiritual cleansing is essential in removing the obstacles blocking congregants’ existential mobility (Hage 2009) and holistic prosperity. Congregants believe that for every one demon expelled from a person, that demon returns with seven more aiming to invade and dwell in the person. This belief is based on the biblical verse from Matthew 12:45: Then he goes and takes with him seven other spirits more wicked than himself, and they enter and dwell there; and the last state of that man is worse than the first. So shall it also be with this wicked generation.
This means that congregants are particularly at risk of further possession immediately after dark forces (especially demons) have been cast out from them. Bourguignon (1976, p. 8) understands ‘possession’ as the idea that a “person is changed in some way through the presence in him or on him [sic] of a spirit entity or power, other than his own personality, soul, self or the like.”3 Although there are
See van Wyk (2018) on the anti-ecumenical stance of the UCKG in South Africa. Bourguignon (1976, p. 8) also defines a ‘possession trance’ as an altered state of consciousness. Possession trances certainly occur during the expulsion practice, when often the possessed person undergoes a change in consciousness. For the most part, ‘possession’ within Pentecostalisms refers 2 3
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extensive cross-cultural understandings of possession phenomena, and a blanket definition inevitably will not suit all cases, this definition speaks to the way UCKG congregants understand evil spirits. Dark forces control the lives and bodies of those possessed, causing chaos and pain.
9.3 Deliverance in the (Australian) Universal Church We know that in reality these spirits are demons, as Jesus used to call them. This has been a major point in the work of the Universal Church, the fight against demons. Even though other denominations know about the existence of the Devil and his demons, they do not voluntarily confront them, perhaps because they do not know how. (Silva 1991, p. 163) We are not better than any other church but what makes us different is that we fight against the problem…we retaliate against the Devil. (Australia’s Head Pastor Mattheus, field notes, 5 May 2017 – not verbatim, from field notes)
In Australia, where deliverance as a practice is less widespread than it is in Brazil, and where the Universal Church is relatively unknown, the UCKG positions itself as the only Church in the country prepared to battle the Devil. The UCKG uses its intense involvement in spiritual warfare to distinguish itself from other Australian Pentecostal Churches. It seeks to render these other Churches spiritually impotent by implying that they are preoccupied with performing music (alluding to Australian churches such as Hillsong, Planetshakers, Inspire Church, and C3, that are well known for dedicating a large proportion of their services to performing worship music) rather than fighting the spiritual war. Indeed, UCKG congregants are told that they have an eternity to sing songs in heaven, however, in the Universal Church they are at war, and that they cannot go to war with a flute. As Silva (1991, p. 163), who at the time of writing was a Brazilian UCKG pastor and ‘church planter,’ is very clear in stating, unlike other denominations who do know of the existence of the Devil and his demons, it is the Universal Church that takes up this fight. Certainly, the Universal Church has done so with gusto, and is (in)famous for its deliverance practices, not only in Brazil but across the world. As in most Charismatic/Pentecostal Churches, deliverance in the UCKG is interwoven with miraculous healing and spiritual warfare (Brown 2011). During his research focused on divine healing in Belém, Brazil, Chesnut (2011) noticed how the Universal Church attracted large numbers of people for libertação (translated as ‘liberation’ and referring to deliverance); so successful was the UCKG’s use of libertação methods of healing that he notes how most Brazilian Pentecostal denominations have incorporated it into their liturgy. Chesnut (2011, p. 178) argues that in instances where traditional and modern medicines fail to cure illnesses, Pentecostal faith healing can prove a potent remedy. This healing is not just confined to physical to the negative experience of being possessed by evil. However, congregants toil not only to expel dark spirits but to be inhabited by the Holy Spirit – this is indeed also a type of possession.
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ailments, but extends to all aspects of congregants’ lives. Prosperity gospel, understood beyond financial terms to include holistic well-being, begins with deliverance. Hunt (1998) describes deliverance as a common and rather mundane activity for Pentecostals. Certainly, in the UCKG deliverance is a daily occurrence, for both congregants and practitioners. Although common, possession and deliverance is rather a gendered experience in the Universal Church. Pimentel (2005) asserts that UCKG theology explains that female bodies are the preferred bodies to experience demonic possession. Women, however, as mothers and wives, are the instruments of liberation for their families, even though this does not elevate their social positioning. Indeed, in my research, the majority of evil spirits manifested in women. This, however, could be a reflection of the overwhelming gender imbalance in the attendees at UCKG services. This imbalance is observed both in Christianity in general, and in Pentecostalism in particular. The Universal Church’s demon expulsion practice largely aligns with Tomlinson’s (2014) ‘performative paths.’ Studying Pentecostal ceremonies in Fiji, Tomlinson argues that these performances follow a cyclical pattern, from declaration to promise to action – “patterned sequences meant to generate ritual efficacy” (2014, p. 38). Deliverance in the UCKG follows the performative path of “…identification (of demon) to determination (of actions) to either duration (of possession) and/or to ingression (of possession), and finally to either declaration and/or command” (Rowan 2016, p. 249). The sequence of the performance is important. In particular, the identification of the spirit/demon must be established first in order to characterize the evil. Csordas (1997, p. 168) explains: If the name of a demon indicates its essence, the corresponding pragmatic logic is that its name also indicates the demon’s effect on a person, and thus its discovery adds therapeutic substance to the ritual performance. The prototypical method of identifying evil spirits is to command them to name themselves via the voice of the afflicted.
This is echoed in Kramer’s (2005, pp. 109–110) description of deliverance in the Universal Church as a spiritual drama with three acts: …an opening that establishes the emotional tone for the service; an extended ritual that addresses and exposes evil, in which the Word of God forces demons to manifest their true identities and intentions; and the final climactic sequence of expulsion by the collectivity.
As I go on to discuss below, strong words and the physicality of demon expulsion feature heavily in deliverance services in the Universal Church. Following Coleman (1996a, b, 2006), I show that in the UCKG words are ‘thinglike’ and can thus become part of the assemblages (Deleuze and Guattari 1987 [1980]) expelling evil from possessed bodies.4
4 In assemblages (Deleuze and Guattari 1987 [1980]), actors within the assemblages affect other actors. These relationships are not static: they can be loose, open-ended, can assemble and disassemble, and parts can be attached to other assemblages. Assemblages only exist in particular arrangements at particular times.
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9.4 Strong words and Spiritual Warriors The word I preach has life! The life has to enter you! (Australia’s Head Pastor Mattheus, Bible Study, 4 January 2017 – from field notes)
The UCKG’s discursive technologies (Carmo 2010; Swatowiski 2007), and its pastors’ distinctive cadence and linguistic techniques have not gone unnoticed by scholars who study the Church (Corten 1997; van Wyk 2014, pp. 141–170). In the UCKG, words are powerful. Whether they are written, spoken,5 internal dialogue, played from a recording or prayed through a phone, transmitted through radio waves, television sets or online live streams, words affect individuals. Congregants materialize their prosperity in prayer requests, make positive confessions, profess their miracles in public testimonies, or write the name of their spiritual enemies (such as depression, cancer, addictions) that they wish to be (literally) burned up. Just as the spiritual authority to cast out demons is carried through the words of the pastors, so too can the written word of Jesus’ name and the consecrated hands of believers agitate an evil spirit. Biblical scripts are believed to be alive and filled with spiritual capacity to invoke life transformation. In the UCKG prayers are not ‘nice.’ Often the pastors will warn new congregants that their prayers are strong but not pleasant – congregants are encouraged to ‘vomit out’ their words to God, without restraint or consideration that their fellow congregants might hear them. Drawing on materials from Nigeria and the United States, Marshall (2016) discusses how in Charismatic Christianity (and, I argue, Pentecostal Christianity), prayers are embodied forms of inspired speech that are pivotal in constructing spiritual warriors who position themselves as global forces. UCKG congregants are well known for identifying themselves as spiritually militant subjects, and for them, words are weapons of spiritual authority. In much the same way as Versteeg and Droogers (2007, p. 22) observed with Dutch Charismatic Christians, words in the Universal Church are essential in deliverance. Words contain immediate power and change the power balances between good and evil. As a mechanism to illustrate power over dark forces, demons are both mocked and interrogated by cool and controlled pastors. In his PhD study of the UCKG in Brazil, Kramer (2001, pp. 204–208) observes deliverance to be the most tangible sign of the power of words in the UCKG. In his (Kramer 2001, p. 173) discussion of the ritual and cosmological meanings of certain words or phrases used by the UCKG in its media, Kramer refers to the verb ‘amarrar,’ which means ‘to tie’ or ‘to bind’ something. He notes how it is often used in the past participle, ‘amarrado,’ and thus refers to an unnatural disruption to the
5 Glossolalia, speaking in tongues, is not emphasized in the Universal Church. In many Pentecostal and Charismatic Churches glossolalia is considered a sign that a person has received the Holy Spirit. In the UCKG, congregants are warned that this phenomenon may be a sign of the Holy Spirit but can also be the sign of a demon, who is a spirit of deception. In fact, as a fallen angel, glossolalia is a demon’s native tongue. The Universal Church separates itself from other Pentecostal groups by warning congregants against being misled by these Churches who emphasize glossolalia.
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normal course of things, as in the phrase ‘tua vida está amarrada,’ translated roughly as ‘your life is stuck, blocked.’ Kramer argues that this type of usage of amarrado is widespread in Brazil and is associated with Umbanda, and thus would signal a spiritual issue present in a possessed body. Phrases that originate from the religious landscape of Brazil have found their way into the mouths of congregants in Australia, and have kept their spiritual authority. The expulsion of demons from the possessed person requires spiritual authority. This authority is usually demonstrated in the confident commands practitioners roar to stir evil within the possessed person. Common refrains across UCKG’s global branches include orders for the evil to “Get Out!” or for “The Boss to manifest!” or for spirits to “Burn, burn with the fire of God from head to toe!” In the Universal Church, what is verbally expressed is what is believed to take place both in the invisible supernatural and the earthly realms. When members of the UCKG shout, “Spirit of [insert name/issue] you are tied-up! Tied-up!” manifesting bodies obey. This verbal command is also a spiritual one – it physically subdues the demon in the possessed body, allowing pastors and assistants to do their work. In the Universal Church, when words are impregnated with spiritual authority they become ‘thinglike’ (Coleman 1996a, b, 2006). Coleman (2006, p. 165) argues that among many Protestants, words are objectified in their complex relationship to materiality – that is, when sacred words are ‘thinglike’ in their autonomous force and their production of tangible results, the identity of the born-again individual can be pervaded and even constituted by language. This is so in the Universal Church, in the case of the possessed body. During deliverance, words are permeated with the spiritual authority of God, as pastors stir, agitate, and expel evil from an individual. I suggest that words are immaterial sacred things that can be transmitted through various mediums (such as pastors’ spoken words, television and radio waves, or biblical verses) into possessed bodies. Sacralized words are spiritual weapons through which evil is physically expelled from possessed bodies. Words are integral in the UCKG’s spiritual war, a war where evil is stubborn, cunning, and fluid in nature.
9.5 Spiritual Warfare and Hyper-Mobile Evil The theology of spiritual warfare considers the world to be a battlefield between forces of good and evil. This does not mean that the spiritual war is confined to the spiritual realm. Spiritual disturbances manifest in the lived experiences of congregants. The ubiquity of spiritual warfare in the worldview of most Pentecostalisms around the globe can be understood as a ‘transposable message,’ as it has found a “footing across a diversity of linguistic and cultural settings” (Csordas 2007, p. 261). In Pentecostalisms worldwide, spiritual warfare is entangled with the enchanted ontologies of its adherents (Anderson 2006; Asamoah-Gyadu 2005; Gifford 2014; Kalu 2008; Lindhardt 2009, 2010; Meyer 1992, 1999). UCKG congregants in Australia are continuous with this ‘sacriscape’ (albeit with particularized
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theologies). As Marshall (2016, p. 94) observes, spiritual warfare “…with its apocalyptic visions, violent language and its obsession with enemies, appears as a particularly polemical instance of Christian supersessionism and expansionism.” Indeed, in its global branches the Universal Church subsumes other spiritualities into its wider spiritual war. When I asked congregants why the UCKG is not popular amongst Anglo- Australians, many explained to me that it is because they (Anglo-Australians) do not truly know the Devil, and hence the consequences of his interference in their lives. They believe that those who attend the Universal Church are more attuned to the manifestations of evil, and therefore to the unique power of the UCKG to overcome it. During my pilgrimage to the Temple of Solomon this question came up regularly in the conversations I had with my fellow pilgrims, particularly when we contrasted the enormous congregations the UCKG attracted to the temples we visited in São Paulo to attendances in its Australian branches. One such conversation in particular illustrates how congregants understand the UCKG’s appeal to migrants and their spiritual sensibilities. Akshan is a Fijian man from a UCKG branch in another state. He converted from Hinduism after he was delivered from alcohol addiction by a UCKG pastor, over the telephone. We chit-chatted as we strolled back to our tour bus after visiting a well- known UCKG Temple of Faith in the Santo Amaro district of São Paulo. We both noted how we had watched YouTube videos of the popular Addiction Cleansing Therapy (ACT) services led by Bishop Rogério Formigoni that take place there. The videos show the temple filled close to its 6000 people capacity and the demons of addicts being grilled with an onslaught of questions and commands by the pastors, and then powerfully evicted from the possessed person. When I asked Akshan why he thinks that the Universal Church does not attract as many congregants in Australia as it does in Brazil, and why there are so few Anglo-Australians who attend the UCKG, he candidly stated, “Because [Anglo-]Australians don’t believe in the Devil.” He went on to explain that when he goes out into the community to evangelize, white Australians often tell him about the difficulties they are undergoing in their lives. When he explains to them that their lives could be plagued by a curse or a demon, Akshan says they are simply not interested. He suggested that he, and the migrants who belong to the UCKG, believe in witchcraft, spirits, and curses because they grew up knowing about the existence of these entities. Therefore, they know that the Universal Church can help them. However, [Anglo-]Australians do not acknowledge the existence of the Devil in their lives and so do not go to the UCKG to address the spiritual roots of their problems. The evil Akshan knew as a Hindu child in Fiji is the same evil he fights in the Australian Christian UCKG. For congregants, evil is fluid and travels across countries and cultural forms.6 In the Australian Universal Church, evil is hyper-mobile. Evil crosses effortlessly from the supernatural to the earthly realms. As I will show below, it also 6 See van de Kamp (2013) for a discussion of how the historical colonial connections of the Lusophone Atlantic and understandings of evil serve as a meeting point for Brazilians and Mozambicans.
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enters humans with ease. Evil journeys across geographical borders – following migrant routes, and being sent by those left behind in the homeland. It is transmitted by malicious thoughts, or cursed words and is transported in material objects such as food, or local ‘medicines,’ or from parents to children through generational curses. Csordas (1997 p. 165) notes how “[a] great deal can be told of a people from the character of their demons.” Indeed, this is so in the Universal Church. Expressions of evil in the Australian UCKG are glocalized (Robertson 1995) – they are as diverse as the congregation, and are conceptualized through the congregants’ cultural lens. Pastors expel from local congregants manifestations of evil from all over the world – from Fijian witchcraft to Romanian gypsy curses, West African Juju, and Sudanese sorcery. Some congregants have converted from Hinduism and Islam and so still carry an understanding of ‘darkness’ in relation to these religions. Evil is also very personal. It searches for weak prey or is sent to specific individuals (as in the case of curses). The nature of the evil affliction (for instance, curses, spiritual possessions, witchcraft), or the type of spirits possessing a person (these can be anything plaguing the individual’s life, from a pornography addiction to depression) is also individualized. The mobility of evil is blamed for its pervasive stasis in the lives of congregants.
9.6 Permeable Bodies as Violent Battlegrounds A perfect health enters you. The spirit of depression, anxiety, panic attacks, sleepless nights, insomnia, the spirit of addiction moves out of your lives now and the spirit of peace, the spirit of light is touching you now. Receive from God what the world could not give you. (Australia’s Head Pastor Mattheus, Lifted Event, Liverpool, 28 May 2017 – not verbatim, from field notes) The same health that I have, I give to you. The spirit that is inside of me destroys the spirit of bad health that is inside of you. (Australia’s Head Pastor Mattheus, Sunday Service, 30 October 2016 – from field notes)
In a chapter (entitled “The Leaking Nature of Things”) of her book, van Wyk (2014, pp. 116–140) writes about how the majority of people who attend the UCKG in Durban, and in South Africa more broadly, exist in an environment where boundaries between people, things, and spirits are unstable. She goes on to note that in this context human bodies leak visible and invisible substances, collected by predatory spirits and people in order to harm individuals. In the UCKG, supernatural forces are entangled within the materiality of congregants’ everyday lives. Indeed, human bodies are spiritually permeable, they can be filled with the Holy Spirit or possessed by the Devil. Possessed bodies absorb the physical consequences of these demonic forces. Possessed bodies are violated, abused, malnourished, stressed, ill, and exhausted. Many scholars have demonstrated that embodied participation in Pentecostal practices is integral in creating the Pentecostal subject (Csordas 1997; de Witte
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2011; Klaver and van de Kamp (eds.) 2011; van de Kamp 2011). This is certainly true in the deliverance particularly of new congregants in the UCKG. Based on his work with Pentecostals in Iringa, Tanzania, Lindhardt (2014, pp. 179–182) demonstrates how Pentecostal rituals provide a space for learning the reality of spiritual warfare by embodying it. He argues that fellowships and open-air meetings serve as spiritual battlefields, where the struggle between divine and satanic nguni [power, life force or strength] often becomes physical, with the possessed person being restrained. Therefore, spiritual warfare engages aspects of embodied practice rather than remaining an abstract categorical framework. In the Universal Church, invisible supernatural actors have effect when they are in an assemblage (Deleuze and Guattari 1987 [1980]) with material actors (be they human or non-human). Similar mechanisms of manifestation can be used by the supernatural to do evil or to remove it. For instance, food contaminated by a witch imbuing it with an evil spell can curse the unsuspecting individual who consumes it, thereby causing harm and distress. The same curse can be broken when consecrated oil or holy water is ingested, and thus, the person is liberated from her suffering. This is common across UCKG branches around the globe. For instance, van Wyk (2014, pp. 116–140) describes how in the South African UCKG, sacred things function in a similar way to the traditional medicines used by witchdoctors. In the Universal Church, the accoutrements of deliverance include anointing oil, consecrated water, wet wipes (dipped in the holy water of the Jordan River), the sanctified altar, and the consecrated hands of practitioners. In this section however, I focus on the possessed body, as a material territory of conflict where the local and the global and the earthly and the supernatural intersect. The body is the main material through which spiritual entities make themselves known – spirits permeate the boundaries of the body either to bind up (evil spirits) or liberate (Holy Spirit) the person. Spiritual entities (good or evil) can enter flesh or minds (perhaps through the consecrated holy hands of pastors or the cursed words of a jealous kinsman), latch onto (evil) or anoint (Holy Spirit) bodies, or be ‘ingested.’ Coleman (1996; 2000, pp. 127–129) draws attention to this trope of ‘ingestion’ in relation to the Word of Life Church in Sweden. Adherents describe reading the Bible as a form of ingestion – that is, ‘eating’ the Word, thereby incorporating Christ into the materiality of the body and the mind. Similarly, in the Universal Church, congregants are encouraged to be ‘hungry’ for the Holy Spirit, or to allow the ‘light of God’ and ‘spiritual medicine’ into their bodies to ‘consume’ the illness ‘biomedical medicine’ (also ingested by congregants) has failed to heal. Congregants are also warned about unknowingly eating food contaminated with evil by being offered to a ‘false God’ (a reference to congregants who have converted from Hinduism and may still have a home altar), but are encouraged to take part in the Lord’s supper, the flesh of Christ (incorporated from Catholic communion). Thus, congregants must manage the permeability of their bodies by expelling evil, inviting the Holy Spirit in, and creating seals of protection. Bodies thus become battlefields between forces of good and evil. The practice of deliverance demonstrates the blurring of binaries of material/immaterial, supernatural/earthly, local/global, human/non-human actors, as they manifest through the
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bodies of possessed migrant congregants. In the Australian UCKG, evil, as a globally present force, takes on the different cultural guises – all of which can be seen to manifest during deliverance services in the bodies of local possessed migrants. Evil as an invisible force is made visible in the daily embodied being of the individual (for example, as disease, depression, stress), but also when it violently clutches hold of the body during its expulsion. Evil as a hyper-mobile non-human actor possesses the bodies of human actors in violent battles as part of a global spiritual warfare and an individually fought battle. During deliverance, pastors forcibly use the spirit of God to push the spirit of the Devil from possessed bodies, or spiritually burn the demons with the fire of God. It is frequently a violent process. A demonic expulsion that took place at the ‘Signs’ event, held in a local leisure center in Liverpool (NSW) in October 2017, illustrates how the practice of deliverance frays boundaries between and across worlds through an embodied violence. This event was publicly advertised to invoke a ‘sign’ from God in the lives of attendees. Indeed, one of the ‘signs’ from God that afternoon was revealed through the body of an Indo-Fijian woman in her late twenties. She was preyed upon by an evil spirit sent from a jealous woman in her homeland of Fiji, who wanted this woman’s husband. The spirit marred her life, distressed her body, and removing it was brutal. When the pastor encouraged attendees who had been ‘told by medicine that there is no solution for the problems they have’ to approach the front, out the corner of my eye I saw a woman visibly shivering as she left her seat. Along with other attendees seeking healing, she positioned herself against the stage. Noticing the quivering woman, the pastor asked her over the microphone why she was shaking. She was mute as she stared up at him. Again, he asked why she was shaking. She said nothing. The pastor turned his attention to the crowd, asking who had accompanied the woman to the event. When her mother made herself known to the pastor, the woman became agitated and began to screech at her mother in a malicious voice, and in another language. Suddenly, the woman’s body was thrown to the ground, as if by an invisible force, her glass, multi-colored bangles smashing in shards across the floor. The sounds coming from her thrashing body were ghoul-like and guttural. The pastor began commanding the demon to manifest whilst the other pastors on the ground attempted to subdue the woman’s body. The hoarse screeching continued. The struggling pastors brought the possessed woman on to the stage by leading her with a firm grip to the back of her neck, but the demon did not let the body go quietly, pushing the pastors and writhing under their control. She was snorting and gnashing her teeth. The woman’s mascara ran down her face, her hair was pulled from its ponytail, and her face was wet with tears, saliva, and perspiration. The pastor authoritatively explained to the stunned and silent attendees that curses can manifest in our life even if we are good people; some good people have bad lives and this is due to curses or demons. This woman may have had curses sent to her, or she may have been fed food that was dedicated to a false god, or her name may have been given to an evil spirit. He began to pray aggressively that the fire of God enter her body. He said forcefully: “The spirit in me rebukes the spirit in you! And from the strongest to the weakest, in Jesus’ name GET OUT!”
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When the woman became lucid, she was confused at how she had landed up on the stage and in such a state. She told the pastor that since she had gotten married she had endured a lot of bad luck, physical illness, and five miscarriages, and she became terrified of the evening approaching as she was too scared to sleep. She was often woken by an invisible entity choking her, or by Indian music that compelled her to dance erratically. She told the captivated audience that for the first time in years she felt ‘lighter’ and ‘free.’ The pastor, counselling her and lecturing the audience, explained that going through deliverance is necessary in order that individuals do not remain ‘frustrated Christians.’ However, he warned her and the audience that this was only the first step, and that evil does not go away automatically. This should just be the beginning of her journey. The physical violence inherent in many of the expulsion practices makes visible the sadistic gravity of spiritual warfare through the bodies of possessed individuals, and illustrates the spiritual authority of the UCKG to drive out this evil. Possessed bodies become spiritual warriors fighting their own personal battles, and becoming foot soldiers in the global spiritual war.
9.7 Conclusion The spiritual war rages in the invisibility of the spiritual realm, but has material consequences made visible in congregants’ everyday lives. The Universal Church attributes persistent problems in the lives of individuals to spiritual attacks by evil forces. It offers them an alternative way to manage their life circumstances and remove the obstacles that create impasses to their existential mobility (Hage 2009). Congregants and new members take up arms in the spiritual war as an act of resistance, resisting the secular boundaries of a disenchanted society that often fails them. They are dissolving the ontological confines of the profane structures within which they are immersed, returning to the familiarity of their spiritual sensibilities. The Universal Church is a space where binaries of material/immaterial, supernatural/earthly, local/global, human/non-human actors blur. The aim of this chapter was to illustrate how this takes place through the possessed migrant’s body. Those attending the Universal Church believe in the existence of the Devil and his malevolent actions in their lives. He is blamed for their persistent life maladies. The UCKG actively addresses this evil in their lives. For the UCKG and its congregants, bodies are permeable to spiritual entities. In order to create and maintain a prosperous life they must manage these entities – expelling evil and inviting the Holy Spirit in. For new (and some established UCKG) congregants, this expulsion practice, that of removing the shackles of evil, can be physically violent. The body is a battlefield where these invisible, immaterial supernatural forces visibly take hold of material bodies. Evil from across the world, and between the realms, manifests itself in local lives and bodies.
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Lindhardt, M. (2014). Continuity, change or coevalness? Charismatic Christianity and tradition in contemporary Tanzania. In M. Lindhardt (Ed.), Pentecostalism in Africa: Presence and impact of pneumatic Christianity in postcolonial societies (pp. 163–190). Leiden & Boston: Brill. Marshall, R. (2016). Destroying arguments and captivating thoughts: Spiritual warfare prayer as global praxis. Journal of Religious and Political Practice, 2(1), 92–113. Meyer, B. (1992). ‘If you are a Devil you are a witch and if you are a witch, you are a Devil’: The integration of ‘pagan’ ideas into the conceptual universe of Ewe Christians in southeastern Ghana. Journal of Religion in Africa, 22(2), 98–132. Meyer, B. (1999). Translating the Devil: Religion and modernity among the Ewe in Ghana. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press. National Centre for Social Research. (2017, 4 September). British social attitudes: Record number of Brits with no religion. Press Release. Accessed 1 August 2018 at http://www.natcen.ac.uk/news-media/press-releases/2017/september/ british-social-attitudes-record-number-of-brits-with-no-religion/ Pimentel, F. S. (2005). Quando psiquê se liberta de demônio—um estudo sobre a relação entre exorcismo e cura psíquica em mulheres na Igreja Universal do Reino de Deus. Unpublished MPhil thesis, Pontifical Catholic University of São Paulo. Robertson, R. (1995). Glocalization: Time-space and homogeneity-heterogeneity. In M. Featherstone, S. Lash, & R. Robertson (Eds.), Theory, culture and society: Global modernities (pp. 25–44). London: SAGE Publications. Rowan, K. (2016). ‘Who are you in this body?’: Identifying demons and the path to deliverance in a London Pentecostal church. Language in Society, 45, 247–270. Silva, M. (1991). A Brazilian church comes to New York. Pneuma: The Journal of the Society for Pentecostal Studies, 13(2), 161–165. Swatowiski, C. W. (2007). Texto e contextos da fé: o discurso mediado de Edir Macedo. Religião e Sociedade, 27(1), 114–131. Tomlinson, M. (2014). Ritual textuality: Pattern and motion in performance. Oxford: Oxford University Press. UCKG. (n.d.). Exorcism and healing. Accessed 9 July 2018 at https://www.uckg.org/press/ exorcism-and-healing van de Kamp, L. (2011). Converting the spirit spouse: The violent transformation of the Pentecostal female body in Maputo, Mozambique. Ethnos: Journal of Anthropology, 76(4), 510–533. van de Kamp, L. (2013). South-South transnational spaces of conquest: Afro-Brazilian Pentecostalism, Feitiçaria and the reproductive domain in urban Mozambique. Exchange, 42, 343–365. van Wyk, I. (2014). The Universal Church of the Kingdom of God in South Africa: A church of strangers. New York: Cambridge University Press. van Wyk, I. (2018). Fragile wars: Anti-ecumenism in a South African church. Journal of Southern African Studies, 44(2), 269–281. Versteeg, P. G. A., & Droogers, A. F. (2007). A typology of domestication in exorcism. Culture and Religion, 8(1), 15–32.
Chapter 10
Ethnography of the Devil: The Aftermath of Possession, Exorcism, and the Demonic J. Tyler Odle Abstract Exorcists, and the demoniacs they work with, face the mental challenges inherent in demonic possession itself, but also for a lifetime afterwards. The mental effects on those demoniacs liberated through exorcism are often described as cathartic, due to the demon within them having been expelled and therefore no longer tormenting the patient. However, no research on the long term consequences of having gone through such an experience has been undertaken. Also, the exorcist who enables deliverance from evil is likely to experience some form of mental suffering as a result of repeated exposure to the rite. This chapter presents an original ethnographic work dealing with two key informants. The first one is a case study analysis of a demoniac who has written about her own experience as a child and who explains the issue she had to deal with as an adult. The second one if from an exorcist in the Tampa Bay area and covers his experiences surrounding the craft, focusing specifically on the mental health of both practitioner (self-reported) and demoniacs (as reported by the exorcist). Both key informants in this field of research were strongly advocating for community support for the demoniacs. This chapter is a pilot study which offers two interviews focusing on for the first time on the long term mental health effect of, and the community involvement surrounding, the practice of exorcism in a western society. Keywords Demonic · Demon · Andrea Perron · The conjuring · Demonic possession · Ethnography · Ethnographic · Grounded theory · Exorcism · Communal health · Mental health · Trance · Dissociative · Mental illness · Possession · Recovery · Death · Community
J. T. Odle (*) University of South Florida, Tampa, FL, USA © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 G. Giordan, A. Possamai (eds.), The Social Scientific Study of Exorcism in Christianity, Popular Culture, Religion and Society. A Social-Scientific Approach 3, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-43173-0_10
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10.1 Introduction Exact numbers for how many exorcisms are performed per year is at this stage impossible to track down, yet Baglio (2010, pp. 6–7) makes reference to the Association of Catholic Psychiatrists and Psychologists claiming that there would be approximately 500,000 people a year, in Italy alone, who would receive the rite of exorcism. It is unclear how this figure was calculated. Unlike the ambivalent status of exorcism, which is difficult to quantify (Giordan and Possamai 2016), belief in possession and demons is better documented. The Association of Religion Data Archives reports that 53.8% of an American sample ‘absolutely’ believe the Devil exists (2010), and 54.6% believe ‘that people on this Earth are sometimes possessed by the Devil’ (1998). Demonic possession is not just the subject of popular horror movies, it is a phenomenon that is believed to continue to occur. Individuals who directly request an exorcism are more likely to be referred for prayer, counseling, or medication before being considered for participation in the rite (Cuneo 2002; MacNutt 2009). The medical community is resistant to acknowledge exorcism as a method of treatment due to a variety of factors, one of which is the unknown prognosis of possession (or of diagnosed mental disorders resulting from self-diagnosed possession). Within a religious context, exorcism is also debated and its efficacy is often questioned (Betty 2015). Due to this lack of legitimacy of this ritual in both these fields, and the difficulty in accessing data, the rite’s effects on an individual, both behavioral and physical, are at this stage undetermined. The aim of this pilot study is to offer an ethnographic approach to understanding how the rite of exorcism affects in the long term both the exorcist and the demoniac.1 Both types of participants in the rite face effects on their mental health during the ritual and after its completion – often for a lifetime. While liberation from the demon may be considered cathartic for the demoniac at the time of the ritual, the trauma incurred eventually changes the individual on a fundamental level. For the exorcist – if the demon can be exorcized at all – the moment of liberation is welcomed as the successful outcome of helping someone overcomes the demon. Whether living through the possession once or performing the rite hundreds, if not thousands, of times, there is no easy or guaranteed road to recovery for either party. In discussions, my two participants – an exorcist and a demoniac – and I attempted to recreate the memories, hardships, turmoil, and growth sustained as a result of their experiences with the demon(s).2
1 ‘Demoniac,’ as used in this work, is defined as an individual who has been possessed, physically assaulted, or haunted by a demon. 2 ‘Demon’ is defined as any spirit of insidious intent that seeks to harm, destroy, or possess an individual. This active definition was discussed with both participants.
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10.2 Demonic Possession Today Media, news, and movies portray exorcism, and related concepts, as violent and alien, even going so far as to conflate mental illness with demonic possession; as found for example in recent headlines such as ‘Mental Hospital Fire Leaves Hundreds of Demons Homeless’ (The Onion 1996) and ‘Chicago Mom Says Devil Told Her to Kill Children, Shrink Testifies’ (Perez 2017). What is often left out of any account on demonic possession are the immediate and long-term effects of being exposed to this rite. Cultural exemplars of exorcism, both in press releases and film, challenge the possibility of possession, focus on violent outbursts or events, and fuse mental illness with the demonic possession, rather than advocating peaceful solutions. Since the release of The Exorcist on December 26th 1973, clergy have been thrust into theological quandaries relating to requests for exorcism. When the film was first released, in almost every showing, an audience member would vomit, faint, or require emergency medical services. Nor did the strong mental impression end after the film did. In one case, construction workers renovating a building demanded that an exorcism be performed on it because it had been used as a pagan temple (Fiske 1974). Approximately 1 month after the film’s release, Rev. Richard Woods stated to the New York Times, “I’ve received dozens of calls from people who are horribly frightened or so confused that they have begun to lose their grip on reality” (Fiske 1974). During the mid-1970s, cases continued to come to light of violence and fear related to exorcisms, such as the story, from 1975, on which the movie The Exorcism of Emily Rose is based. In 1968, years prior to the event represented in the film, Anneliese Michel (portrayed as Emily Rose in the movie) was diagnosed with grand mal epilepsy. Convinced she could be saved through faith, she began a regimen of such assiduous praying that she ruptured her knee ligaments through genuflection. She also bit the head off a bird, licked her own urine off the floor, and (according to her neighbors) could be heard screaming for hours. It took Anneliese Michel three requests to get an exorcism in the hope of being free of her possession. In 1976, after enduring 67 exorcisms within 9 months, she died. She forced herself to fast, claiming this would dispatch the evil from within her, eventually succumbing to starvation. She died weighing 68 pounds (Day 2005). While this may be an extreme case insofar as the rite itself is concerned, reporting on exorcisms is usually violent. This reporting of violence is mirrored in more recent exemplars. For instance, at 9 am on 19 June 2017, a woman was observed beating her child on a beach in California. Authorities reported that the child “will probably require reconstructive surgery” after her mother attempted an exorcism on her (Rocha 2017). Cinema portrayals of exorcisms often depict torture, and physical, sexual, and emotional abuse (Maggi 2014, p. 778–785), and media coverage treats this rite as though it were no different from any other situation of violence. Commonly raised objections to exorcism include that the rite has been used, as mentioned above, in order to abuse children or other vulnerable people (BBC 2018). Media coverage of exorcisms
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continues to showcase exceedingly violent instances (often unapproved cases or those of individuals attempting the rite without training), treating them as if they had the same validity as those performed by Father Gabriele Amorth (the late Chief Vatican Exorcist), who has published extensively on the topic (Amorth 1999; Amorth 2002). He was also featured in a documentary on exorcism approved by the Vatican (Friedkin 2018). Unlike Gabriele Amorth who performed exorcisms under the guidance of the Vatican, media coverage usually focuses on unapproved or spur of the moment exorcisms by laymen that can sometime end in harming or killing the individual (Rocha 2017, Padilla 2019). While exorcism and possession may often be violent, within the ritual space it is more likely to end with the recipient receiving help, whether medical or spiritual, rather than as it is portrayed in the media, movies and TV shows. To deal with the sudden increase in requests for exorcisms (Cuneo 2002), the former archbishop of Madrid, Antonio Maria Rouco Varela, and the Archdiocese of Chicago have held special training courses on exorcism, in order to confront what is described as ‘an unprecedented rise’ in cases of ‘demonic possession’ (BBC 2018). This is a recent addition to the yearly courses offered near Easter in the Vatican. The Church in Spain was coming across many cases that “go beyond the competence of psychologists” and they were reported occurring with “a striking frequency” (Squires 2014). Some individuals will find the help they need in the ministrations of the Church, while others are more likely to benefit from therapy (or from both, as is usually prescribed by the Church). The two are not always mutually exclusive as the job of the exorcist can sometime be that of a therapist (Amiotte-Suchet 2016). Following an assessment as to whether or not someone is possessed, the determination, more often than not, is that the individual needs counseling or medical services rather than an exorcism (Giordan and Possamai 2017). Speaking to the press, the Church generally maintains that medical services should come first: The Church says that most people who claim to be possessed by the Devil are suffering from a variety of mental health issues, from paranoia to depression, and are generally advised to seek medical help. But in a few cases, it is judged that the person actually has been taken over by evil spirits, and an exorcism is required. (The Week, UK 2014)
Inquiry into the outcome of requests to one priest for help through exorcism has shown that only 5.1% of supplicants receive a major exorcism, 19.2% receive blessing, 13.2% undergo a ritual of liberation, and 13.5% are recommended to a psychologist or medical services (Giordan and Possamai 2017, Fig. 4). The increase in use of the rite of exorcism has sparked debate as to the validity of the sacrament in any situation – especially in terms of therapy. While the popularity of the ritual itself may be explained by its therapeutic properties, allowing, if successful, for the reentry of an individual into society, the screening process used to determine the legitimacy of the alleged possession often leads to medical or therapeutic services rather than the performance of the rite (Giordan and Possamai 2017, Fig. 4). There has been an increase in investigation as to why exorcism and
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the rite of deliverance3 may succeed where medication and psychological or psychiatric therapies fail, but this has been mainly through a theoretical approach (MacNutt 2009). Although some research has been published showing that treating dissociative identity disorder through exorcism can have positive effects, no firm conclusions have yet been drawn as to its efficacy (pp. 188–196). Working with both the rite of exorcism and therapy to better understand how a technique combining the two may deliver more effective treatment could provide a long-term solution; if experiments show promise, this may throw up more questions than answers (Betty 2015).
10.2.1 Exploring Long Term Effects The way that possession and exorcism are viewed is dependent on context. Whether these phenomena may be used, potentially, to justify violence against vulnerable groups, and whether exorcism serves as an alternative therapeutic method, a cultural phenomenon, or provides insight into the modern American paradigm, still varies case by case (Maggi 2014). What has yet to be explored are the experiences of the practitioner and recipient in the rite and how this affects them in the long term. This study focuses on those who have experienced possession, and its effects on their lives in both the short and long term. To address this issue, I visited local churches and spoke with colleagues who had experience with exorcists and demoniacs to seek out participants. I was able to only interview two key informants: one exorcist and one former demoniac. The former demoniac was located via the books she wrote on her experience which were adapted into a movie, the fame making it easier to find media contact forms. The only other method considered for finding demoniacs was through the exorcist they were treated by (and therefore legitimizing the case of possession). However, the eight exorcists whoe were contacted in the context of this study, were reluctant to talk, and when they did, they did not want to talk on the record or discuss any specifics. Only one exorcist agreed to participate in order to aid research into this field. Even if the sample is very small, these two people are providing information in this field of research that has not been covered yet. The exorcist has had experience in the rite and has remained in contact with the demoniacs he cured or saved. The second informant is a very special demoniac who has even become part of popular culture. But rather than her story being one of Hollywood horror, it is one that expresses the toll that such experience can have on one human being in the long term. 3 The rite of Deliverance from Evil and the rite of Salvation are similar practices; both generally referring to a minor exorcism (one that may not need the expressed approval of a bishop or someone in a similar position). The rite of Deliverance is traditionally used in Protestant communities, whereas the rite of Salvation is traditionally used in Catholic communities. I am not taking a stance as to which rite is which; when referring to them in the article, I find it appropriate to maintain the cited author’s context.
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The fieldwork consisted of two sets of recorded interviews (around one hour for each participant). More time was spent before and after to speak to them ‘off the record,’ and, at the request of the participants, no notes were taken during that time. Participants were also reminded before, during, and after the interview that they may withdraw from the study at any time. Data was transcribed into a word processor. From there, a grounded theory approach was used, as outlined by Lindlof and Taylor (2017), to analyze the data. The main themes covered for this chapter are on the long term effect and the community support provided.
10.2.2 Andrea Perron Andrea Perron and her family’s experience with the demonic ended when she was a young adult (sometime in the 1970s) and is documented in the trilogy, House of Darkness House of Light. The movie The Conjuring is also based on their story. Andrea has described her experience with the insidious entity (or entities) as causing both physical and emotional harm to her and her family. Andrea is considered a demoniac because she was physically and emotionally abused, as well as haunted, by demon(s). However, Andrea stated that she had not been possessed. Nevertheless, her experiences with the demonic, that are covered in this case study, began in 1970 and lasted almost a decade; the impact of these experiences is ongoing. When Andrea was 12 years old, a lot of “bizarre things” or abusive behaviour began to occur in the neighbourhood her family was living in. This prompted her mother to look for a new house and raise her children in the country. The house was built while America was still a colony in 1736. They spent approximately 10 years in the house as they did not have enough money to leave when they wanted to. Strange or temporal phenomenon began as they were moving into the house. In one instance, a family member entered the dining room to see another family eating around the table only to stop and look at her as though she was intruding. Other experiences were less indifferent: as an example, one of her sisters was grabbed by the hair, dragging her down to and across the floor. This scene was, dramatically and in different circumstances, shown in The Conjuring. The basic barriers to escaping, such as lack of money, physical illness or degradation, or an attachment to a location, are not, by themselves, necessarily a problem for the affected individuals, and not in the case of the Perron’s according to Andrea. However, when combined with the dehumanizing attitude and hostility of the surrounding community, feeling stuck in a location is. The Perrons were banned from the church and many of their neighbours shunned them. Being written to by the Bishop overseeing their parish to “go away” caused both pain and confusion, particularly for Andrea’s father, and ostracized them further from the community. The bishop went so far to send a letter directly to the family asking them not to come back. Even though the Perron’s had done no harm to the members of the community, they became shunned in their small town (but not by all). In the case of the
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Perron family, all of these were contributing factors that lowered the morale of the family. Community hostility and physical barriers to leaving may have made the Perron’s sense that they were being abandoned, but they did not lose hope. Andrea made a point of saying that family, and friends, created a strong support structure that caused her family to suffer as little as possible. The sharing of negative experiences allowed the family to maintain resilient. Andrea’s mother, Carolyn Perron, had a significantly physical and emotional reaction to exposure to negative or insidious spirits. Over the course of these 10 years, she went from experiencing hints of the paranormal to significant physical degradation. Within the first week, both Andrea and Carolyn were hearing and seeing entities within the house. This eventually shifted into physical contact with what was in the house. Driven by a desire to seek out what was the cause of these events, Carolyn became immersed in the history of the house and its former inhabitants. Unlike The Conjuring, no answers were ever definitively found. She began to change the way she spoke: using words such as yeomen (a term from the 18th–nineteenth century for land owners) to describe townsfolk. Her behaviour was changing over time, becoming either so immersed in the history of the town that she adopted the characteristics of the time while suffering from demonic obsession. Although they did have family in the Catholic Church who would visit from time to time, the Church seemingly could do little to help. After a visit from Andrea’s Uncle, who lived and worked in the Vatican, an Exorcist was dispatched for a home visit: When [the exorcist] came to the door, he simply said, ‘I’m Father so and so.’ I don’t remember what his name was. Introduced himself to my mother, asked if he could walk through the house. Never told us, or her, or my father, that Uncle Jean had sent him. We all knew Uncle Jean had sent him. He walked all through the house and he would pause… You could hear if somebody was walking through and he would pause in each room and pray… He came down into the parlour and my sisters were playing Parcheesi. I remember, he had to kind of walk around them. He came up to my mom and he said, ‘I’m so sorry, Mrs. Perron. This house cannot be cleansed.’ And then he left. And she wept. She went in the bathroom and wept.
This is not the first instance that an exorcist would come to the house. The church, and the Warrens, all refused to perform an exorcism saying either the church did not approve an exorcism or, when it did, refusing to perform one as they believed it would be unsuccessful. Carolyn experienced several dramatic instances where she was physically hurt. Early on in the 10 years of living there, Carolyn went out to the barn during the winter: Mom took a little trip out to the barn. There was a hand scythe. You know, one of those curved… that you load hay, you can bale hay with it. Very sharp knife with a long wooden handle. When she turned on the light in the barn it was suspended out on a beam about 40 feet above the ground. The main beam of the barn and there is this hand scythe out. Feet away from where anybody would have been. We’d all been in the barn before and nobody ever saw it before. But there it was. Mom said she heard a whooshing sound. She thought a bird was trapped in the barn. She looked up and she saw that it was spinning. Like, just
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spinning in place and making this whooshing sound. Then, all of a sudden, it just flew down and landed across the side of her neck. It cut the jacket from the back all the way to the front and went right across where her jugular vein would have… was. But it didn’t penetrate all the layers of clothes. It left a bruise, that’s how hard it hit her. It knocked her to the floor. Then it just fell on the floor.
There were more direct interactions with the insidious entity, one particular case during a séance that the famous mediums Ed and Loraine Warren oversaw in an attempt to dispel the evil in the house: The language that was coming out of my mother doesn’t exist on this planet. It was a dark force that was capable of killing her and choose not to. I know that. It had all the power it could have possible needed to snuff her out. And it didn’t. It tossed her from the middle of our dining room to the middle of our parlor, in the chair she was sitting in. An old captain’s chair, solid rock maple. The chair had to be 20–30 pounds. It just lifted up off the floor, it just lifted.
A few years into the abuse and after the séance, Carolyn began to sink into herself. Attempting to live on coffee and cigarettes, while not eating or sleeping. She struggled to cope or recover from demonic influence. Unfortunately, she … never really recovered. If, and I want to say this as delicately as possible, my mother is 78. She began aging at a remarkable rate at that house. It took a real physical toll on her. She’s still a beautiful woman. You’ve seen her in interviews, she’s lovely. It robbed her of her youth. She was only 29 years old when we moved into that house. She looked like she was 59 when we moved out 10 years later. It took a terrible toll on her.
As the interviewing process came to an end, the last thing Andrea shared with me was an emotional recollection of an attempt to banish the demon: What happened in the house that night… Cindy and I are watching my mom and she pulls her legs up and she is screaming and moaning and it’s not her voice. I mean we knew her voice, it wasn’t her voice. She started to literally cave in on herself like her body was being twisted into a ball. You would expect to hear her bones breaking. There was nothing natural about it. It was physical, it was psychological, it was spiritual, it was the most intense and compelling and disturbing thing I have ever seen in my lifetime. I never want to see anything like that again. I thank God every single day that my mother has absolutely no recollection of it at all… I thought I had just seen my mother die.
Her mother Carolyn doesn’t remember many of the events that happened while being abused or assaulted. She changed a significant amount in a very short period of time. Mannerisms, speech, and interactions with others shifted within a matter of months to that of a completely different person. Today, she lives a secluded life. Living with the entities caused her to age faster than she otherwise would have, both physically and mentally. For a 78 year-old woman, she is still able to tend a garden from time to time but otherwise lives a very low impact life. Mentally, Carolyn doesn’t remember vast portions of her life but has made almost a full recovery otherwise. Andrea, deeply impacted by the events of her youth, in her adult life has gone out of her way to share her story and connect with others. Becoming a prominent lecturer in America on spirituality and metaphysics, she has devoted herself to creating a community that accepts experiences such as demonic possession. Going out of her
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way to connect and work with people who had similar experiences and spreading this knowledge through a variety of media. Andrea wanted those in recovery to have someone, even if it is someone they don’t know, who will believe them and not criticize them for something potentially out of their control, believing that strength is in knowing that they aren’t alone. The communities that she started also aid in research efforts to find more effective means of treating and managing demonic possession and other negative supernatural experiences. While Andrea has been open about her experiences through her books, interviews, adaptations, and public speaking, this is the first time it has been placed into the research field. Locating her story among others of the same type bridges the gap between media representations of exorcism and the true stories that inspire them. Her story, an extreme case lasting 10 years, is one of survival and recovery unlike some, unordained, cases discussed earlier.
10.2.3 The Exorcist The Exorcist, hereafter referred to as E, found himself drawn to the fold during his time in college. As a psychiatry student and licensed counsellor, E volunteered as a Cult Deprogrammer where he focused on bringing individuals out of commune style esoteric groups. After some time he decided that the best way to lead people into the faith would be to lead them himself and went into the clergy specializing in spiritual counselling. E was ordained over 40 years ago in the Lutheran denomination and has been practicing counselling, and, when necessary, the rite of exorcism. Like the exorcist discussed by Amiotte-Suchet (2016), E prefers to seek therapeutic means first and only utilizes the rite of exorcism as a last resort. In the context of this study, we discussed two cases in great detail and other cases more broadly. The cases examined here in depth are explored with permission from E, without identifying the individuals involved. The exorcist himself has treated hundreds of individuals with personal or spiritual needs but did not disclose how many of those treatments included a major exorcism; blessing, use of holy water, or a minor exorcism (sometimes known as Deliverance from Evil) were common in his treatments. While those who sought the rite of exorcism as a cure to their ailments came from diverse backgrounds, the symptomology (see below) was generally consistent among those who received the rite. The intensity varied wildly however. For E, cautious skepticism preceded any supernatural explanation. For him, this initial phase was similar to him counseling anyone else who came to him for help: discussion of the problem, suggestion of physical or spiritual solutions (such as deep breathing exercises or praying), and, if nothing else worked, then psychiatric treatment. Other than two cases, E spoke in general terms about his experience with demoniacs and suggested a general pattern to their development. Prior to seeking any form of treatment, the demoniac often exhibits no symptoms or behavioral changes before the rapid onset of physical and emotional degradation. Sudden changes in
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personality are often preceded by an obsession with finding out the cause of their symptomology. At the beginning, mental symptoms are often, but not always, sudden onset depression, suicidal ideation, and isolation of one’s self. Physical pain, in many cases a result of physical degradation due to self-harm or by some unknown source, is often accompanied by voluntary isolation and the destruction of support structures or personal connections. The destruction of support structures is recurrently a result of callous or violent interactions, through isolation and degradation, which makes the demoniac becomes a different person. Communal, physical, and mental symptoms do not go away immediately, if the patient recovers it can take anywhere from months, to years. In some cases, even if liberated from the demonic the patient never fully recovers. The onset of possession seems like any other illness – lethargy, lack of productivity, and mental haze. Blatant disbelief – a sense of ‘this can’t be happening to me’ – ensues as medication or therapy fails. Trust in medicine, in this early phase coincides with a strong initial aversion to a supernatural explanation. If the personality is completely consumed by and integrated with the demonic, the affected individual may harm themselves or others. If not consumed, the personality may instead become obsessed. Treatment failure often results in the individual’s losing his or her privileges in society, such as loss of parental rights or becoming incarcerated, due to the diagnosis or to violent outbursts. Cognitive dissonance exhibited by the demoniac only worsens the problem. For E, the patients who are able to experience liberation still face a long road ahead of them. They have to reintegrate into society, reestablish their identity and potentially faith, and in severe cases need physical therapy. Also, the patient can become lost in the sense-making process as part of the behavioral readjustment to living without the insidious presence. E. also spoke about the physical recovery process after the exorcism itself, which can leave the recipient weak or confused for an extended period afterwards. The Exorcist shared with me, in depth, two particularly difficult cases for him: Patient A directly requested an exorcism from E. She had been a member of his Lutheran church for quite some time, but attendance had dropped off due to work stress. When E arrived at her house, she met him outside and begged for an immediate exorcism. He started a mental health screening process and determined that an exorcism was indeed needed. She had experimented with esoteric or “cultic” organizations during her time away from the church. Over the past few months she had been experiencing disturbing phenomenon at a steadily increasing rate: nightmares, bruises and scratches appearing at random on her body, irrational and obsessive thoughts, and a voice in her head telling her to harm others. As the exorcism was about to begin, she fled from the house and threw herself in front of a semi-truck. It was later discovered that she had thought the exorcist was going to harm her, describing the thoughts she was having as irrational. She was placed into a mental health facility where E continues to help her. Patient B was a devout member of E’s church for many years. When her attendance began to waiver, he encouraged and oversaw counseling sessions. In the course of these sessions, it was determined that she was facing a legitimate case of
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possession and the rite of exorcism was offered to her. While progress was being made, the exorcisms were not curing her of her fatigue, doubts, and violent impulses. She left the church entirely against the recommendations of E. Years later, she became a “lady of the night” and at the time had a 6-month-old child. The child was recovered by police after a neighbor discovered the baby was ill-treated. She continues to refuse any treatment or help, including exorcism which had failed in the past, and has been stripped of parental rights by the state. Performing the rite had its effects on E as well. In the extreme examples that he shared with me, he even questioned his career and faith. He understood why more clergymen didn’t perform exorcisms and why they often turn individuals away completely. E described burnout from other exorcists; unable to cope with stress, depression, or anxiety. Often, it does not take long for exorcists starting his or her job to choose to leave the role or their faith entirely. In regards of his own experience, E described having experienced the same. Leaning on his “flock”, his family, and his faith gave him the strength he needed to perform the rite for decades. He said that despite his long career, there are still periods when he experiences melancholy. During these moments, the most important part for E is his support structures. This helps him not to break down. Both family and faith facilitate E’s ability to persevere, and even to process traumatic experiences into points of strength. Those exposed to demonic possession often feel as though the world is turning against them. The patients can completely burn their support structures and job, becoming lonely and, if not on the verge of, homeless. Support structures that existed previously are ‘tested by fire’ and are either reinforced or severed during the possession experience. In some cases, they can also face local community hostility. For E, the bonds with his family were strained significantly as a result of dealing with stress and depression. In the long term, he said that it was these trails that strengthened his relationships. Speaking from his long experience in the field, E said that the exorcisms and therapy are more effective with patient having a community or familial support, as compared to isolated patients. Without support structures, patients turning to violent outburst over weeks, if not years, can often lead to pushing others out of their life. Feeling like the world has turned against them only intensifies their struggle, and when support structures begin to fail a snowball effect can occur. A deteriorating mental health then becomes expedited when the individual is alienated from the community they have left. E did not give specific examples on how demoniacs continue to live their lives as they go through the process of exorcisms and demonic possession, however he explained that leaving a job, a marriage, or moving to a different place are compounded on top of the community distain. Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) like symptoms persisted in about half of those he saw, and this contributed to self-inflicted separation from (former) friends, family, and community.4
E added that although he was a licensed counselor, he was not a physician and could not diagnose.
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Upon the demoniac’s reintegration into society, they were often ostracized away from their family, friends, and community due to the stigma surrounding demonic possession or acts they committed while obsessed or possessed. As treatment progresses, both the exorcist and the demoniac experience distress both during and outside of the rite. During the rite, specifically, both experience dissonance and perception shifts, and these may leave the recipient uncertain of himself or herself for some time afterwards (if not with serious changes in personality or life path). E continues to maintain a strong connection with his family, believing it key to mental strength and resiliency. E, and his family, have strived to spread positivity and steadfast faith to the community through fostering over 400 children, volunteering, providing free counselling services, opening and running community centers, and overseeing homeless shelters. E believed in the same thing that Andrea does, that having a religious community or a strong familial structure is a major contributor to recovering and escaping demonic influence, without it, his patients are significantly less likely to recover.
10.2.4 The Community as a Support Structure Whether in the short or long term, both the exorcist and the demoniac experience change and strain as a result of undergoing the rite. For the demoniacs discussed here, to undergo the rite is to choose the lesser of two evils; if successful, treatment aids in recovery, yet will leave permanent mental scars. For the exorcist, the rite is an intensive procedure that tests the perseverance of even the most devout. The demoniac may, according to E., vomit, thrash violently, attempt to harm the exorcist or themselves (then requiring restraints), perform supernatural feats such as vomiting 3-inch iron spikes, levitate off the ground, speak in tongues, or in some cases do nothing. While this havoc, or lack thereof, is occurring, E would pray over the demoniac. Touching them with holy water, blessed oil, or performing the sign of the cross in a rite that lasts, usually, from 30 to 90 minutes. The discussion of short-term changes in behavior of those exposed to demonic possession, prior to an exorcism, revealed that the key component was significant changes in a very short period (sometimes within days): disbelief rapidly shifting to fear, significant behavioral changes, and, if the demoniac were left to his or her own devices, (self-)isolation. The short-term effects can be broken down into three themes according to the analysis of these two interviews: a period of disbelief that accompanies rapid personality changes, a treatment that often fails or is insufficient, and the strain on relationships with the family and community. According to the E’s experiences, long term changes in those exposed to demonic possession and/or exorcism are reflective of both the rapid short-term changes in the individual and the community’s reaction. Trauma and the accompanying short-term effects develop into long term consequences. Dealing with the mental and physical toll can result in suicide, confusion, or even death in some cases seen by E. The trauma is often ignored or the sufferer shunned by those outside the immediate
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support system, whether it be religious or familial. Andrea’s experience also reflected this. In cultures such as New Orleans Voodoo, the community will come together if possession harms an individual; yet in the context examined in this study, the community surrounding an individual suffering a harmful possession can turn its back on the possessed person. There are fundamental differences between the way Voodoo, or Vodou, views possession: as a way for the Gods, or Loa, to interact peacefully with their believers and pass along knowledge. Possession, in this case, is something cherished and encouraged by the community and occurs during community gatherings. The Loa are welcomed to possess individuals. When harm comes to the possessed, which is rare, it is usually indicative of actions and sins that angered the Loa. While possessed, the individual is not responsible for their own actions, such as harming themselves, however the community as a whole will step in to ask the Loa to leave and will take care of the individual for as long as it takes for them to recover (usually from 2 hours to 2 days) (Fernández Olmos and Paravisini-Gebert 2011). In the Christian west, possession is an inherently negative experience bringing along with it negative effects. The community does not have a framework in place for the community to handle it, according to Andrea and E, and those who become possessed are often ostracized. The marginal experience of demonic possession leads to those who have such an experience sharing a bond, as both participants stated: “only those who have experienced it will understand.” An exemplar of such, both participants said, or agreed with the statement, “I’m not afraid of death.” These communities or groups of friends that have consolidated during and after these traumatic events embrace the common goal of education and of finding a ‘cure’ for demonic possession.5 In the case of E, he has worked with medical professionals and is supported by a community, his church and other churches that he works with, that comes together to work with the possessed individuals to cure them while trying to find trends that could contribute to a preemptive solution. Andrea, in addition to writing and spreading knowledge on paranormal experiences, works with the media and others who write on the topic in the pursuit of a better understanding through television shows and public lectures. Working to build these communities, and teaching and helping others, was described as a crucial directive in their lives.6 Such new communities are a result of both past community hostility to the possessed and the strong bonds built between those affected and their support structures during periods of possession or treatment. Communities, such as the ones that E and Andrea have built, in the context of mental illness are considered to beneficial to those in recovery (Bromley et al. 2013; UK Mental Health Foundation 2018).
5 I find it interesting to note here that not only did both participants thank me multiple times (in just the recorded interviews) for conducting research on demonic possession and exorcism, but also strongly encouraged me to continue to work in this field. 6 This was partially as a result of a belief that possession was and is behind certain acts of violence (including public violence). However, this belief will not be explored here.
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10.3 Discussion Exposure to possession and/or the rite of exorcism has a profound impact on those who experience it. The development of strong coping mechanisms and of communities based around shared experiences aids in combating the mental and emotional turmoil resulting from the rite. In the short term, prior to the rite, disbelief on the part of the demoniac (sometimes exacerbated by undergoing less rigorous means of treatment such as counseling in an attempt to discern the true cause of the symptoms) can lead to rapid deterioration. In the long term, even with a successful outcome, performing or experiencing an exorcism may mean that the participant never recovers from the trauma. While the mental health ramifications of exposure vary, finding community support and working to help others overcome their possession is a vital directive. The results of this study are presented as preliminary research into the long term behavioral and health effects of the rite of exorcism on the exorcist and the demoniac (that is, the participants). As stated before, this research is a case study. While the data here cannot be generalized, due to the small sample size, it can be used as a starting point for a larger study. Individuals who were referred to medical services (rather than to spiritual services) to be treated for something like dissociative disorder NOS (not otherwise specified (DDNOS)) see mixed results in the efficacy of the treatments delivered. The results correlated well with other research showing that most cases of selfreported demonic possession and/or requests for exorcism were likely to result in some form of spiritual counseling or medical treatment (Giordan and Possamai 2017). Although a specialized mixed spiritual (exorcistic) and therapeutic treatment is being considered (Betty 2015), it is necessary to determine its efficacy and longterm side effects prior to its application. Specialized treatment would aid in maintaining physical health and balancing community reactions – factors that are not otherwise considered in non-psychiatric settings. The potential for starving to death, as in the case of Anneliese Michel (Day 2005), or withering away, as described in the quote from Andrea Perron in relation to her mother, would be lessened through constant observation by behavioral health specialists.
10.4 Conclusion The rite of exorcism has much further reaching and longer lasting effects on the participants. Something lacking in previous accounts and research (e.g. Amorth 1999; MacNutt 2009). Degradation or tension impacts on all aspects of the participant’s life. The rite of exorcism was once surrounded by a veil of horror. Removing the veil, through sociological investigation, has revealed a dark truth, the
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ramifications of which are becoming clearer. This rite is not the final cure even when exorcism is used as a last resort. The data presented here shows promise in applications – from joint spiritual and medical treatments to a better understanding of the rite of exorcism itself. It is however difficult to generalize this data obtained from this small-scale ethnographic study, even if the two informants had years of experience in the field. What I am claiming here is that demonic possession takes a long-term physical, emotional, and communal toll on those who experience it. While this chapter does not claim or disclaim the existence of demons and the efficacy of the rite of exorcism to deal with these entities, it does highlight that these beliefs and practices do exist. The point of this pilot study is to confirm that the use of exorcism is not likely to disappear and that it has to be performed alongside treatments delivered by the medical community (Betty 2015; Bull 1998), but also that it should be supported by community and/or familial structure during and after the rite.
References Amiotte-Suchet, L. (2016). A ministry of ritual bricolage. The case of a diocesan exorcist. Ethnologie Française, 161(1), 115–126. Amorth, F. G. (1999). An exorcist tells his story (Edition Not Stated ed.). San Francisco: Ignatius Press. Amorth, G. (2002). An exorcist: More stories (1st ed., N. V. Mackenzie, Trans.). San Francisco: Ignatius Press. Baglio, M. (2010). The rite: The making of a modern exorcist (1st ed.). New York: Image/ Doubleday Religion. BBC News. (2018, April 17). Exorcism: Vatican course opens doors to 250 priests. BBC News. Accessed at http://www.bbc.com/news/world-europe-43697573 Betty, S. (2015). The growing evidence for ‘demonic possession’: Lessons for psychiatry. Journal for Spiritual & Consciousness Studies, 38(1), 36–60. Bromley, E., Gabrielian, S., Brekke, B., Pahwa, R., Daly, K. A., Brekke, J. S., & Braslow, J. T. (2013). Experiencing community: Perspectives of individuals diagnosed as having serious mental illness. Psychiatric Services (Washington, D.C.), 64(7), 672–679. doi:https://doi. org/10.1176/appi.ps.201200235. Cuneo, M. W. (2002). American exorcism: Expelling demons in the land of plenty. London: Bantam. Day, E. (2005, November 27). ‘God told us to exorcise my daughter’s demons. I don’t regret her death.’ The Telegraph. Accessed at http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/worldnews/northamerica/ usa/1504158/God-told-us-to-exorcise-my-daughters-demons.-I-dont-regret-her-death.html Fernández Olmos, M., & Paravisini-Gebert, L. (2011). Creole religions of the Caribbean: An introduction from Vodou and Santería to Obeah and Espiritismo. New York: New York University Press. Fiske, E. B. (1974, January 28). ‘Exorcist’ adds problems for Catholic clergymen. The New York Times. Accessed at https://www.nytimes.com/1974/01/28/archives/-exorcist-adds-problemsfor-catholic-clergymen.html Friedkin, William (2018). The Devil and Father Amorth. Retrieved from http://www.imdb.com/ title/tt6883152/ Giordan, G., & Possamai, A. (2016). The over-policing of the Devil: A sociology of exorcism. Social Compass, 63(4), 444–460. https://doi.org/10.1177/0037768616663982.
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Giordan, G., & Possamai, A. (2017). Mastering the Devil: A sociological analysis of the practice of a Catholic exorcist. Current Sociology, 66(1), 74–91. https://doi.org/10.1177/0011392116686817. Lindlof, T. R., & Taylor, B. C. (2017). Qualitative communication research methods. Thousand Oaks: Sage Publications. MacNutt, F. (2009). Deliverance from evil spirits: A practical manual (New ed.). Grand Rapids: Chosen Books. Maggi, A. (2014). Christian demonology in contemporary American popular culture. Social Research, 81(4), 769–793. https://doi.org/10.1353/sor.2014.0054. Padilla, M. (2019, October 2). Arizona man accused of killing 6-year-old son during attempted exorcism. The New York Times. Retrieved from https://www.nytimes.com/2019/10/01/us/arizona-child-exorcism-death.html Perez, M. (2017, September 22). Chicago mom says Devil told her to kill children, shrink testifies. Newsweek. Accessed at http://www.newsweek.com/ demonic-possession-homicide-chicago-669676 Rocha, V. (2017, June 19). Mother arrested in biting and choking of child during ‘exorcism’ at California beach. Los Angeles Times. Accessed at http://www.latimes.com/local/lanow/la-meln-mother-exorcism-california-beach-20170619-story.html Squires, N. (2014, January 4). Rise of the exorcists in Catholic Church. Telegraph. Accessed at http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/worldnews/europe/vaticancityandholysee/10550800/Riseof-the-exorcists-in-Catholic-Church.html The Association of Religion Data Archives. (1998). Southern Focus Poll. Accessed at http://www. thearda.com/Archive/Files/Descriptions/SFPCB98.asp The Association of Religion Data Archives. (2010). Baylor Religion Survey, Wave III. Accessed at http://www.thearda.com/Archive/Files/Descriptions/BRS2011.asp The Onion. (1996, December 17). Mental hospital fire leaves hundreds of demons homeless. The Onion. Accessed at http://www.theonion.com/article/ mental-hospital-fire-leaves-hundreds-of-demons-hom-4511 The Week UK. (2014, January 6). Exorcists on the rise as Church faces ‘unprecedented’ demand. The Week UK. Accessed at http://www.theweek.co.uk/religion/56720/ exorcists-rise-church-faces-unprecedented-demand UK Mental Health Foundation. (2018, December 12). Recovery. Retrieved November 25, 2019, from UK Mental Health Foundation website: https://www.mental
Chapter 11
Exorcism, Media and the Romanian Orthodoxy: Chasing the Devil, Coping with Uncertainty Antonela Capelle-Pogacean Abstract By examining the mediatization of an exorcism performed in 2005 in a remote Orthodox monastery in Eastern Romania, after which the exorcist was blamed for the death of the ‘possessed,’ this chapter engages with Michel de Cearteau’s approach to exorcism as a “language of social anxiety” (de Certeau 2005 [1973]). Over a few days, a local event became a national affair, colonizing various social fields (Boltanski 2009). Multiple media genres – sensational media, TV talk shows, orthodox blogging, narrative nonfiction, theatre performance, and a prize winning movie at Cannes – reformulate and relocate the local event over time and space. At the crossroads of the sociology of religion and media studies, this contribution considers media technologies (taking into account their agentivity), as well as different social actors (members of the Orthodox hierarchy and their opponents, journalists, politicians, medical doctors, sociologists) who confront their narratives on the exorcism and its aftermath. Beyond the unfolding competition among groups in the post-communist orthodox field, one can argue that the mediatization of exorcism reveals a generalized epistemological uncertainty, as far as religion, politics, medicine, and justice are concerned in Romania, two years before its European integration. Keywords Clergy · European union · Exorcism · Father daniel · Hesychasm · Irina cornici · Judicial · Media · Metropolitan of Moldova · Migration · Monasticism · Mount athos · Orthodoxy · Popular culture · Postsocialism · Romania · Romanian orthodox church · Synod · Tanacu · Tradition · Vaslui
A. Capelle-Pogacean (*) Sciences Po-CERI, Paris, France e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 G. Giordan, A. Possamai (eds.), The Social Scientific Study of Exorcism in Christianity, Popular Culture, Religion and Society. A Social-Scientific Approach 3, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-43173-0_11
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11.1 Introduction On 16 June 2005, the police inspectorate of Vaslui, a city of just over 70,000 inhabitants in northeastern Romania, announced in a press release the ‘suspicious death’ of a ‘23-year-old nun,’ ‘sequestered’ for three days by the hegumen of her monastery and four nuns, ‘tied with chains against a wooden cross,’ gagged and deprived of food (Niculescu Bran 2005). This press release triggered a media frenzy and the Tanacu monastery, about fifteen kilometers from the city, isolated in the hills, was besieged by the cameras of the new 24-hour news channels, and by photographers and journalists from the Romanian and foreign written press. From the very first images, the media account sought to explain the initial mystery of this death. The judicial inquiry was only just beginning, and the media scene became an arena of sensationalist denunciation of the monks, with the crucifixion of a young woman during an exorcism ritual at its center. Less audible, the voices of the 29-year-old hegumen and the four nuns who were implicated mobilized another regime of understanding. From the monastery church, which had been transformed into a set for television, they delivered the clinical picture of the diabolical possession from which the young woman had suffered. The prayers of healing and deliverance carried out according to the rules of the Orthodox Church had allowed her to regain serenity. She had died for unknown reasons in the ambulance on the way to the hospital. Although it did not permeate the media narratives, this story was heard by pilgrims who supported the father, ‘a good man’ with a charismatic reputation, now subject to violent and unjust media attacks. In the media drama broadcasted from Bucharest, these faithful from the eastern margins of Romania were assigned the role of a frustrated population, fanatical rural people, a presence to be ‘exorcized’ as harmful to the image of a country that was to join the European Union in less than two years time (Smith 2005). What had initially appeared as a miscellaneous news item became a ‘scandal’ that bordered on the ‘case’ (Blic and Lemieux 2005; Boltanski and Claverie 2007; Claverie 1998). The responsibility of the Orthodox Church, dominant in Romania,1 vehicle for the national identity, was raised both by actors embodying a militant atheism, critical of the links established between the State and the dominant Church after the fall of communism, and by public intellectuals claiming to be orthodox. On the defensive, voices of the clergy rose up against a ‘primitive’ practice of orthodoxy, some going so far as to deny the existence of exorcism, provoking in reaction the indignation of several venerated figures of the monastic clergy. The case thus gave rise to accusations and counter-accusations regarding the definition and qualification of misconduct and affected a variety of social sectors (religious, media, political, medical, judicial). The purpose of this article is to review the controversies surrounding Tanacu’s exorcism and thus shed light on the reasons of increasing the social visibility of the Devil in post-communist Romania. 1 In the 2011 census, 86.45% of respondents reported an orthodox religious affiliation (Institutul naţional de statistică 2013).
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As a result of a renewed interest in exorcism in both so-called secularized Western societies and non-Western societies, work in sociology, anthropology, and history has enriched an already important literature on the political, social, and cultural conditions for the production of beliefs in the Devil, demons and evil spirits (de Certeau 2005 [1973]; Levack 2013; Levi 1989; Muchembled 2000). Sociologists of religion studying Western countries and societies of Catholic or Protestant tradition have linked the deinstitutionalization and individualization of belief, on the one hand, with the rise of emotional and intermittent adhesions to more or less alternative forms of spirituality, on the other hand (Champion 1990). Some work has mobilized the categories of ‘popular religion’ and ‘official religion’ and observed how declining religious institutions employ exorcism associated with a ‘popular’ religion for purposes of relegitimization (Davies 2007; Milner 2000). More broadly, efforts by religious institutions to rationalize and discipline the Devil, coupled with the multiplication of personnel in charge of these operations (benefiting from specific training within the Catholic Church), have been advanced to explain the strengthening of belief in the Devil (Giordan and Posamai 2016) from a perspective focused on religious supply. Other sociologists and anthropologists have approached the social visibility of evil spirits through the prism of broader social and cultural changes. The mediatization and spectacularization of religion and rituals, including possession rituals, and their globalization, have thus been highlighted to observe the diffusion of ritual practices and innovations (Diantell and Hell 2008; Dole 2006). The impact of a popular cinematographic culture celebrating the figure of the exorcist, on the one hand, and the “therapeutic ethos of contemporary culture” (Illouz, 2008) on the other, were mentioned to reflect the multiplication of healing therapies in the United States, and, in particular, exorcisms (Cuneo 1998, 2001). The new relationships between medicine (including psychiatry), psychology, and religion, in a highly competitive market for salvation and healing goods, have also been investigated, suggesting a relative questioning of scientific rationality and a blurring of the boundaries between religion, spirituality, and medicine in several Western societies (Champion 2013; Durisch-Gautier et al. 2007; Talamonti 2007). In the Greek Orthodox field, the reform of psychiatry, leading to the closure of institutions in the 1990s, concomitant with the arrival on the market of so-called non-Western healing therapies, has encouraged the Orthodox Church to offer its own healing services, in particular confession and exorcism (Péglidou 2013). Without devoting themselves – with a few exceptions (Năumescu 2010) – to exorcism, studies of post-communist societies have associated the social visibility of religion characterized by a strong capacity for ritual innovation and by a lack of stability in practices, with a context marked by brutal and rapid political and socio- economic changes (Bănică 2014; Borowik 2002; Gurchiani 2017; Michel 1994; Pelkmans 2009, 2015; Stahl and Venbrux 2011). Finally, non-Western (especially African) fields have been able to feed into questions formulated from the perspective of a political anthropology sensitive to historicity and have considered the social visibility of evil spirits in post-colonial contexts (Geschiere 2013; Meyer
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2008). These studies have shown an articulation between intimacy, trust, and witchcraft in an era of brutal globalization. Building on this renewed literature, this contribution examines the social visibility of the Devil as it is shown through the social form of the scandal. In the wake of Michel de Certeau, we consider exorcism as “a language of social anxiety” (de Certeau 2005 [1973]). In Romania, this concern does not arise – as it did in France during the Loudun possession tale in the seventeenth century – from the friction of multiple truths associated with different knowledge and the highlighting, through their competition, of the relative nature of each of them. The Tanacu scandal questions the status of each truth, whether media, religious, medical, or legal, within a globalized society which is affected by strong social inequalities and cultural differences. The Orthodox Church, which has undergone spectacular institutional development since the fall of the communist regime, is itself confronted with this differentiation, a source of internal tensions. Its offer of healing therapies, which is supposed to respond to a whole series of epistemological, cultural, and existential uncertainties, is at the same time diversified and contested. This concomitance contributes to the visibility of the Devil. To test this hypothesis, we examine the Tanacu scandal, considered here as an indicator of social tensions and an operator of change (Boltanski and Claverie 2007; Lemieux 2007). The scandal is deployed according to crossed temporalities, mainly in the media field, and in religious, medical, and judicial arenas, each with its own rhythm, logic, and audience. First, we focus on the production of the media scandal and on the conditions for the use of the metaphorical figure of the Devil, where representations from orthodoxy and folklore meet, but also where the ‘horror’ codes of a globalized popular culture play a role. This figure of the Devil embodies an inferiorized social otherness. In the second part of the chapter, we examine the televised performance of the religious actors accused of causing the death of the young woman, to shed light on a regime of truth shaped by a rigid and mystical orthodox monasticism, which at the same time appears to be a resource for negotiating a social status for the individuals who invest in it, in post-communist Romania. Returning to the Orthodox Church’s handling of the scandal, the third part will question the idea that the social visibility of the Devil is a result of contested institutional growth and polarization around an identarized orthodoxy. The analysis draws on written and visual sources. The chapter is based primarily on the review of five central daily newspapers (Adevărul, Jurnalul naţional, Ziua, România liberă, Evenimentul zilei) between June 2005 and January 2008. The only two-hour television interview with the monks in Tanacu is also used, as well as the two non-fiction novels published in 2006 and 2007 by the former head of the BBC’s Bucharest office. Documents produced during the legal proceedings by the Church, the judiciary, and two NGOs, which are available on blogs and orthodox forums (for example, Brașoveanul 2005), appear both as (re)sources and actors in the controversies, as producers of orthodox sociability in networks. Some documents available on legal blogs are also incorporated. Finally, several orthodox specialized periodicals with more or less large audiences (Lumina credinţei, Altitudini, Bărăganul ortodox) are mobilized.
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11.2 The ‘Priest of the Devil’ or the Rhetorical Devil The media coverage of the suspicious death mentioned in the Vaslui police press release had the effect of extracting the initial news item from the local context and projecting it onto the national and international levels, where it initially took on the appearance of the Gothic novel and horror film. Exorcism and crucifixion constituted the core of this media story centered on the figure of the priest, which was massively followed for several weeks. One of the first national newspapers to mention Tanacu’s tragedy headlined the story on the front page: “Medieval practices: The sister crucified by the Devil’s Priest” and stated, “M.I.C. (23 years old), a sister at the monastery of the Holy Trinity…died in atrocious suffering, after three days of almost biblical suffering” (Popescu 2005). The monastery is described as a “devil’s monastery,” “a scene of a crime that is difficult to imagine and reminiscent of the Middle Ages” (Tarata 2005c), and a “terror worthy of the era of the Inquisition” set up by the “Barbarians of Tanacu.” The horror escalated when, a few days after the young woman’s death, the priest, Daniel Corogeanu, was filmed at the bedside of his victim, tears in his eyes, while he performed the funeral service. A mainstream publication summarized: “the Redbeard monk has no regrets” (Grosu 2005). ‘Redbeard’ is one of the Devil’s incarnations in Romanian folklore. The same imagery was used to describe a long six-hour liturgy celebrated a few days later by the priest, described as the “circus of demons” (Tarata 2005a). This sensationalist plotting was shaped by the marketing technologies and tabloid codes that dominated the Romanian media landscape in the mid-2000s. The plot built an accusatory narrative. This was based on popular representations of Evil nourished by folklore and orthodoxy, but also fueled by a globalized popular culture of the ‘horror’ genre, making the association of exorcism and crucifixion credible. This account of Tanacu’s exorcism was performative in two ways. On the one hand, it created a scene populated by a variety of experts – investigators, religious leaders, sociologists, psychologists, public intellectuals, politicians – convened to reaffirm certain norms. But this scenario was also performative insofar as it aroused indignation among the religious actors and their supporters gathered in Tanacu. Their reactions – reference to the Devil as an explanatory variable for the practice of yellow journalism – were translated into images that legitimized the initial accusatory narrative. Close-ups of the face of the ‘exorcist,’ a long red beard and illuminated eyes, united with the Evangelist and the cross of blessing, denounced as ‘Satan in cassock,’ were reproduced in the pages of the newspapers and turned in loops on television screens. The discourse of the local Orthodox hierarchy facilitated the transition from the ‘Gothic’ news item to the scandal. It portrayed in the media a deviant character in conflict with the institution. The local hierarchy played the role of the denunciator. When questioned by the courts, local officials claimed that exorcism belongs to primitive religions (ICCJ 2008). Most notably, the day after the police statement, when a judicial investigation had just been opened for unintentional murder, the bishop vicar in charge of the Tanacu monastery went to the site, accompanied by
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journalists. He came to announce the suspension of the priest, with whom the hierarchy had long been in conflict. However, in front of the cameras, he was pushed by the nuns and pilgrims gathered in large numbers (around 300) for Mass, who all defended the charismatic priest. The hegumen resisted his superior, invoking obedience to God alone. The bishop vicar asked for the intervention of the gendarmes, threatened to close the monastery and questioned the priest’s psychological condition. On television sets in Bucharest, commenting on the mediatized rebellion of the Tanacu monastery against the bishop vicar, psychologists referred to “a mass psychosis generated by Corogeanu, a man suffering from paranoid personality disorders, but having kept the discernment, which succeeded in inducing a mystical delirium” (Roman Jr. and Ioan 2005b). An episcopal inspector from Vaslui also reported that the hegumen of Tanacu had refused his salary for more than a year and that he was supported by a powerful local businessman, converted to a rigid form of orthodoxy after a trip to Mount Athos. This local notable had positioned Corogeanu at the head of the monastery of the Holy Trinity, whose construction he had financed, after having earlier intervened with the old bishop of the diocese to ensure that the young man obtained his ordination after only a few months’ stay in a monastery. With this businessman, the priest would have formed ‘a clan that no longer follows the mother Church.’ At 29 years of age, the hegumen had still not completed his theological studies. Systematic reference to his background as a footballer in high school heightened the accusation of his incompetence. Three weeks after the case began, when the priest and four nuns had just been expelled from the monastic clergy by the bishop vicar and were in pre-trial detention, now accused of murder and no longer of manslaughter, the national daily Ziua summarized the case in these terms: “Tanacu. A case that probably represents an excellent scenario for a horror film. A film in which a priest and spiritual father (duhovnic), formerly a footballer, formerly a student of theology, kills in cold blood, helped by four nuns, a young nun, Irina. A girl sick of schizophrenia, but possessed by the devil, in the vision of these five people” (Tarata 2005b). The media spectacle posed the centrality of the exorcist, seized on through the religious and psychiatric deviance evoked by the local religious hierarchy. This was transformed into a social and moral deviance (‘criminal,’ ‘murderer,’ ‘barbarian’) in connection with the deployment of the criminal investigation. This narrative left in the shadows the four nuns, also questioned, who were reduced to the role of executioners. Besides, the narrative had little interest in the 23-year-old ‘possessed’ Irina Cornici, portrayed as a suffering, chained, gagged body. Her biography was very poorly informed and can be summarized in a few lines: birth to a rural family in northeastern Romania; placement in an orphanage at two years of age with her older brother; several three-month stays as part of commuting to Germany between 2001 and 2005; arrival at the monastery in early April 2005, accompanied by her brother, to visit a friend from the orphanage; emergency hospitalization shortly after arrival at the monastery and early diagnosis of disorganized schizophrenia; and less than two months later, violent death (BBC 2005). It was not until the non-fiction novel Confession in Tanacu (Niculescu Bran 2006) was published, signed by the former
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head of the BBC’s Bucharest office, that a portrait of the possessed woman crystallized in the autumn of 2006. The trial began at the same time. Fueled by a long journalistic investigation, the text of the BBC-trained journalist repopulating the exorcism arena is also a criticism of the Romanian press and was a potential vector of influence at the beginning of the trial. Finally, the media plotting offered a subordinate place to another traditional actor of the diabolical scene, the doctor. While Tanacu’s exorcism is a scandal, the diagnosis of schizophrenia and the conditions of Irina’s discharge from hospital are being questioned by a human rights NGO, calling into question the “irresponsibility of the medical staff who – at the nuns’ request – let Irina Cornici out for treatment in the monastic environment”; she “would not have had this tragic end if she had not been discharged early from hospital” (Adevărul 2005). In reaction to this public accusation, the director of the psychiatry department of Vaslui hospital, when interviewed, mentioned a gap between what would have been the real diagnosis (hallucinatory delirium) and that indicated on the medical prescription (schizophrenia), justified by administrative efficiency: schizophrenia allows easy access to reimbursement of neuroleptics and anti-anxiolytics, whereas the hallucinatory puff makes it more uncertain in an underfunded health system (Roman Jr. and Ioan 2005a). The same doctor, who had icons hung in his establishment, praised the therapeutic virtues of the monastic environment as being more likely to promote recovery than a psychiatric hospital deprived of resources, where patients are in excess. An administrative investigation resulted in some sanctions against doctors for negligence (Niculescu Bran 2007), but their criminal liability was not retained. Doctors occupied only a limited place in the media coverage of Tanacu’s exorcism, present mainly in the discourse of the incriminated religious, their public defenders, and their lawyers. The media narrative remained centered on the figure of the exorcist, ‘Satan in cassock’ or ‘Redbeard monk,’ and thus shows a metaphorical and ironic portrayal of the Devil. This figure circulates between registers, a cultural reference shared beyond its specific, media, or religious appropriations. Without discussing the modes of belief, an opinion poll a few years later proposed, based on a sample, the picture of a Romania where 96% of the respondents stated that they believed in God, 76% in the existence of paradise, 61% in that of hell, and 54% in the existence of the Devil (IRES 2013). Beyond its epistemological and methodological limits, this survey gave an insight into social imaginaries in which cultural and/or religious, asymmetrical figures of God and the Devil were present. In the media narrative, the Devil refers to a social otherness (‘rural,’ ‘medieval’) and a moral one. Its association with the figure of the priest was made possible by an anticlericalism present in Romanian society that can go hand in hand with the enhancement of orthodoxy as a culture and identity symbol. The media condemnation of the hegumen did not lead to an unequivocal questioning of exorcism, but rather to an ironic degradation of the status of this practice and, in some investigative articles, to a questioning of the moral responsibility of the Church for the post-communist development of this practice (Roman Jr. and Ioan 2005c).
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Finally, it should be noted that the media scandal was performative: it framed the public discussion of exorcism, and broadened both the community of support – an emotional community initially formed as part of the interaction between the priest and his bishop – and the circle of accusers. It also affected the judicial process. If at the beginning of the investigation the facts alleged against the priest, Daniel Corogeanu, and the four nuns were qualified as manslaughter, one week later they were considered as intentional homicide. With the media hype, local prosecutors were dismissed and replaced by prosecutors from the Prosecutor’s Office of the High Court of Cassation and Justice, the highest court. The monk and nuns were subjected to 29 days of pre-trial detention which was considered on appeal as non- renewable because it was not sufficiently justified. At the end of the criminal investigation in March 2006, prosecutors reverted to the initial qualification – deprivation of liberty followed by the victim’s death – which was then applied at the various stages of the judicial procedure.
11.3 T he Thaumaturgist Monk and the Televised Account of the Struggle of Good and Evil Six days after Irina Cornici’s death, on 21 June, Corogeanu and those who supported him responded to the dominant media narrative and mobilized other media outlets to produce their own truths, trying to influence public debate, clerical sanctions, and judicial proceedings. Their statement, which combined defense and denunciation, was made in the context of a talk show that was very popular in 2005. Every evening, for two hours, its star host, Dan Diaconescu, main investor of the OTV channel created in August 2001, suspended for two years by the National Audiovisual Council and who had resumed broadcasting in April 2004, dealt with news items live in a sensationalist tone. The star host is also known for his nationalist stances. Corogeanu was supported by nationalist monastic networks who invited the journalist and his team to the Tanacu monastery (Coja 2018). Recording (OTV 2005a, b) took place in the monastery church under unfavorable technical conditions. The television presenter reminded his audience that in Tanacu electricity and running water do not exist. Two microphones were placed on a table. From time to time, one of them, mobile, was used to pick up the speech, hardly audible however, of the nuns far from the center of the stage, which was occupied by the priest and the television presenter. To the right of the priest sat the Mother Superior and to the left of the host, Irina Cornici’s brother. The two-hour talk show is essentially made up of a succession of close-ups of each person speaking, most often the priest and the Mother Superior, rarely the other three nuns under investigation and the brother. A few lateral shots show thirteen other nuns, seated, standing, or kneeling, the vast majority aged in their twenties. Use of the television network and the host’s rather rare interventions include the interview within the formal framework of the talk show, “the first talk show in a
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church, and not just any church,” as the presenter pointed out. At the same time, the scenography – in particular the Evangelist on the table, the icons on the grey walls of a church that had not yet been painted – as well as the postures of the nuns dressed in black, and the sung prayers that mark the beginning and end of the talk show at the priest’s request, reflect the religious participants’ desire to insert their television confessions into a specific regime of understanding and truth. Against the sensationalism of the media and institutional marginalization, they proposed a narrative – also dramatized – of healing and deliverance nourished by the cosmology of the Orthodox Church, structured by the confrontation between Good and Evil (Stewart 2008). Their re-encoding of the narrative implies in particular a return to the term ‘exorcism’ based on the vocabulary specific to orthodoxy. The practice was both (re)sacralized and vernacularized: “Exorcism is a secular term,” stated the priest strongly on this subject; “We are not saying that we do exorcisms. We pray to keep away the evil spirits that have taken possession of a soul. And that makes a body suffer” (OTV 2005a). Corogeanu and the nuns retraced the circumstances of the mobilization of this cosmological ritual. In doing so, they also produced an orthodox biography of the possessed as well as of the exorcist. The latter seems to have acquired a local reputation as a healer, having embodied the imaginary of the ‘deified’ monk associated with hesychast spirituality. This tradition promotes bodily and mental ascesis (struggle against pride, anger, envy, and so on). It involves the continuous invocation of the name of Jesus (the Jesus Prayer) as a way to reach quietude and union with God (Meyendorff 1959). These techniques of the body and heart, spread from Mount Athos in the fourteenth century, are not reserved for the monastic environment, but they are more present there. After the fall of the communist regime, hesychast mysticism, which has a monastic tradition in Romania, again became seductive (Forbess 2010). Notwithstanding his young age (29 years), Daniel Corogeanu administratively directed the monastery of nuns but also occupied the function of spiritual father (‘duhovnic,’ equivalent to the Greek ‘geronta’ and Russian ‘starets’) usually reserved for an old monk, an Elder, recognized for his spiritual charisma (Denizeau 2011; Forbess 2010). One of the nuns surveyed, also young (24 years old), who claimed to have visited more than 60 monasteries over six years before settling in Tanacu, praised the spiritual gifts of Father Daniel, a duhovnic “in the spirit of God, who listens to you when you need and helps you,” promoter of a real monastic life in the tradition of the Egyptian Fathers, hermits, and monks of the fourth century (OTV 2005a). Corogeanu and the Mother Superior confirmed the arrival of Irina and her brother, Vasile, in Tanacu at the beginning of April 2005 to meet a friend from the orphanage who had been living in the monastery for two years. This friend was also present on the set, but on the margin, without ever speaking. After a few days in Tanacu, Vasile and Irina planned to follow their friend’s example and stay at the monastery. They were encouraged to do so by the hegumen, who wished to see the expansion of his community, created in 2000 and gathering nuns, but also including some men aspiring to monastic life housed in a nearby site (Niculescu Bran 2006). Shortly after her arrival in Tanacu, Irina wanted to confess. The next day, her
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behavior became strange. She was agitated and made sexual gestures and allusions. The priest proposed the religious hypothesis of incomplete confession, unadmitted sins being perceived as sources of unrest. The confession was repeated in the presence of the friend, who was supposed to translate the body practices of the adolescents in the orphanage into the images of the struggle between Good and Evil learned at the monastery (Niculescu Bran 2006). Later, when Irina was discharged from hospital, she would say that she had heard evil voices following her because she had sinned through thought (Roman Jr. and Ioan 2005a). Her second confession agitated Irina even more. She became violent, hit others and banged her head against the walls. The nuns called the emergency services three times, but they refused to send help to the monastery, considering the case as a non- priority. Eventually, the nuns immobilized the young woman and transported her to the city’s emergency service, about fifteen kilometers away. She remained there for eighteen days, in the psychiatric ward and under intensive therapy, between life and death for several days, very agitated, and at times tied to her bed. The Mother Superior, her brother, and other nuns visited her. They supported her when she wanted to leave the hospital and continue her treatment for schizophrenia at the monastery, even though she was not cured, especially since the psychiatrist, himself very pious, recommended the therapeutic virtues of prayers (Bruckner 2005). The image that the Mother Superior mobilized to tell the story of Irina’s return to the monastery was that of a child: “the sister who cared for her and administered her treatment took her by the hand to take her to the table, accompanied her to the bathroom, washed her; …we took care of her, like a baby that we take where we need to” (OTV 2005a). Moreover, taking up the practice already current in her former host family, when in private the young woman called the hegumen ‘daddy,’ and the 32-year-old Mother Superior ‘mummy.’ During the talk show, in a weak and hesitant voice, her brother briefly mentioned their biological family: the father who had committed suicide before they were placed in the orphanage, the summer stays with the mother and her new companion, their alcoholism and the violence sometimes perpetrated against the children. Against this, the monastery was represented as the family that had welcomed Irina. This reference to family – the one chosen in the context of monastic life – also appeared in the priest’s words when, speaking about the ritual of exorcism, he referred to Irina as someone who had become a “member of this family.” This account confirms what other sociological or anthropological analyses have already pointed out: the diagnosis of possession is relational and exorcism is a family affair (Giordan and Possamai 2016; Năumescu 2010). Before this second crisis, Irina, who had stabilized, asked again to confess. The practice is carried out weekly in this rigid monastery. The Mother Superior explained this episode: Father Daniel said to us: ‘Take the confessional guide. Help her to confess. That the same thing doesn’t happen to us as it did last time.’ And the sister who cared for her took the guide, explained the sins, which she did not understand, and after confession, Father Daniel gave her penances – 1000 metanies which she did all in one day – we are used to it, but she did not have it; and the next day she was able to receive communion… And after communion, Irina returned to a normal state. We have all witnessed it. (OTV 2005a)
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Her brother Vasile, outside the frame, confirmed: “Yes, she was in good health.” Here we recognize the representation of God as a doctor of the soul (Forbess 2010; Peligou 2013). The mobilization of the guide sheds light on the process of reinvesting orthodox healing therapies after 1989 by actors unfamiliar with this knowledge. From the second half of the 1990s onwards, several confessional guides were published. One of them, reprinted several times, signed by an old charismatic and traditionalist monk, listed sins according to four categories of sinner: lay people, priests, their wives, and finally monks and nuns. The first inventory included 201 sins, the second 224, the third 24, and finally the fourth, targeting monks and nuns aspiring to become a spiritual elite, 438 (Cleopa 2006). So Irina was doing well after the confession, the story says. A few days after receiving communion she went back and forth to the southwest of Romania to collect personal belongings from her former host family and the remaining 3700 euros of savings accumulated from working in Germany as a babysitter and waitress, assigned to the housing purchase project. But she came back with only 500 euros. To ward off the bad fate, Irina and her brother decided to mobilize the techniques observed at the monastery to obtain divine help. They fasted and prayed all night long. The next day she was agitated again. The disorder was attributed both to the shaken trust in her former host family and to the violation of the rules of monastic obedience. She and her brother had not had the blessing of the hegumen, recalled the priest who emphasized: “Christians know what it means to do penance without having the blessing in a monastery.” As Irina’s condition worsened, Father Daniel suggested that her brother choose the type of care his sister should receive: return to hospital or prayers for deliverance “as written in every priest’s liturgical book for this type of situation” (OTV 2005a). On the set, in the same weak voice, the brother confirmed the choice of prayers, explaining that the hospital had failed to heal his sister. He also adhered to the diagnosis made by the monks, in the eyes of whom the young woman suffered not only from psychological problems – which are not denied – but also from possession. However, evil spirits are not driven away by tablets, “one heals only with fasting and prayers, as the Holy Scripture says” (OTV 2005a), insisted Father Daniel. The respective etiologies of psychic and demonic disease were compared several times for nosographic purposes. What seems to distinguish possession, according to Father Daniel and the Mother Superior, is a mobilization in the negative mode of the sacred, which, on the other hand, leaves the madman indifferent. The knowledge not only of scriptures and hagiographies but also of the practices in other monasteries provided a basis for the identification of this evil. In support of their diagnosis, the hegumen and the Mother Superior invoked the blasphemies and pornographic remarks made by the possessed woman suggesting the sexual assaults of a man or sometimes a woman, her dialogue with an invisible world, the evocation of bad spells that had been cast on her, the cries for help that mobilized the image of the Devil – “Mother do not leave me, here is the Devil with his fork” (OTV 2005a) – and finally a supernatural force that develops in contact with sacred objects. It was this supernatural strength that required – in order to protect the possessed from her own aggressiveness, to protect other people and to allow the good
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functioning of services while pilgrims converged at the monastery for the celebration of Ascension – that the priest and nuns tie her to her bed, in her cell, for two days. And it was this supernatural force that required her to be attached to a stretcher improvised from two vertical boards and one horizontal board, so that she could be transported to the church for worship and the conditions of ritual effectiveness could be fulfilled. At the TV host’s insistence, the contention was justified both by the reference to hospital practices – several times the nuns discovered Irina tied to her hospital bed – and by the references to a hagiographical literature very present on the orthodox market, where the supernatural force of the possessed is commonplace (Bălan 1993; Cleopa 2002). Moreover, this hagiographical literature nourishes practices in other monasteries and churches where, said the Mother Superior, the possessed are attached “for even longer periods of time,” the brother adding in a voice-over, “are attached even more tightly.” And Father Daniel added: “Even chained, we do not hold the possessed” (OTV 2005a). But the stretcher was never a cross, it was just an improvised stretcher, and the crucifixion is the sensationalist invention of the media. In addition, Irina’s hospitalization was considered as an alternative if the prayers did not show their effectiveness after three days. The hegumen returned to his fight against evil and concluded: “I have only done what is written, from Amen to Amen… I have done what any priest with a true priest’s conscience and spiritual courage would have done” (OTV 2005a). Tanacu’s exorcism was not a crime, nor a deviance, but a ritual of healing and deliverance performed according to the letter of the Patristic scriptures, tradition, and current practices. Moreover, at the end of two days of prayer, Irina no longer struggled or shouted. She calmed down and accepted drink and food, before fainting, which induced the nuns to call for the ambulance. She may have died in the ambulance on her way to the hospital. The causality proposed by the director of the Vaslui emergency department and the city’s forensic doctor, linking contention, fasting for three days (Irina refused water and food) and death – the causal charge that led to the judicial inquiry and the media scandal – is not credible in the eyes of the monks. Neither the Orthodox tradition, which experiences fasting over much longer periods, nor what is known of biology validate such a hypothesis. The monks also point to a faltering in medical truth: had the ambulance doctor augmented the resuscitation procedures during the transfer to the hospital, his line manager reproaching him, once there, for having taken a person who had already been dead for 24 hours, and accusing the nuns of a crime, calling them criminals? Subsequently, the forensic expertise and counter- expertise conducted as part of the judicial procedure was not able to produce a consensus and therefore a truth about the time and causes of death, despite the exhumation of the deceased for a new autopsy three months after the funeral. Where the prosecution’s expertise, validated by the highest authority of Romanian forensic medicine, points to fragilities greatly aggravated by contention and dehydration, and considers that Irina had died two hours before the arrival of the ambulance, the defense’s counter-expertise calls into question medical errors during the resuscitation process. This disagreement of forensic doctors itself fueled the controversy, the
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hypothesis of medical error resurfacing in the media and being embraced by the defenders of the priest and the nuns of Tanacu. While the media narrative represented Tanacu’s exorcism as embodying a radical, ‘medieval’ (rural) otherness and an institutional deviance, the religious narrative of deliverance placed the exorcism within a rigorist regime of orthodox truth. However, this rigorist worldview, that placed journalists in the same class as pimps in the rankings of evil (Niculescu Bran 2007), ended up negotiating with the sensationalist media. It should be noted that the protagonists of the exorcism ritual were young – three were less than 25 years old, the priest (29 years old) and the Mother Superior (31 years old) being the eldest. They belong to what some studies on post- communist orthodoxy consider to be the ‘missing generation’ of Churches, the generation with the lowest percentage of Orthodox practitioners (Bănică 2006). There is little evidence as to the protagonists’ biographical details other than a family anchorage in northeastern Romania, near the border with former Soviet Moldova, shared by at least four of them, including the Mother Superior and the priest. The latter has a brother who intervened in the controversy, also a student of theology. It is also known that the protagonists of the ritual completed high school, and two of the nuns and the hegumen continued their studies after the baccalaureate. We will later learn that the priest had hesitated between higher studies in law and sport before moving, at the age of nineteen, to a strict practice of orthodoxy, with the mediation of two old confessors from Bucharest, and choosing the monastery (Niculescu Bran 2007). The Mother Superior had been a nun for ten years. The other three nuns implicated had arrived at the monastery two to three years previously; their conversion to rigorism was recent. For all, this conversion took place in a local context with an important monastic tradition dating back to the sixteenth century. In the mid-2000s there were about twenty monasteries in the diocese. This social space is at the same time the product of post-communist deindustrialization, which is accompanied by strong internal and external migration. The city of Vaslui saw its population decline by 27% between 2002 and 2011 (Cojocar 2012), the department lost 20% of its inhabitants during the same period and this mobility led to an ageing population remaining, the majority of which was rural (Institutul naţional de statistică 2013). In this context, ascetic, mystical, and rigorist monasticism is a resource for negotiating a social status for young people, and at the same time a resource for political and social criticism. The confessions of the monks, which were made with great assurance (in the case of the priest and the Mother Superior) in front of the cameras, contrasted the affirmation of moral and spiritual superiority with the social inferiorization denoted by the media account. In the face of the sentence they were facing, they insisted on their devotion to a person who had been the victim of the family and the institutional betrayals denounced here. Irina’s ills also echoed those suffered by a society whose youth is shaped by consumerism, engaged in migration to the West, liberated in its sexuality. Even at the Faculty of Theology, the students’ skirts are getting shorter and shorter, the priest said, in front of the cameras. To this post-communist youth, the priest and nuns of Tanacu pose as a counter-model.
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11.4 O rthodoxy, Monasticism and Society in the Mirror of Exorcism The thaumaturgical discourse of the monks of Tanacu is based on the monastic tradition redeployed after 1989 through a series of texts on spirituality, advice and dialogues, polemical writings, homilies and sermons that foster the notoriety of several ‘deified’ monks. These publications support the new market of orthodox literature (Bălan 1993; Cleopa 2002; Papacioc 2004). It is this same domain that partly shapes the orthodox offer of healing and accords an important place to the Devil. As early as 1993, an audio recording was made of a ‘Devil’s Monologue,’ produced during a series of exorcisms performed by seven monks in a monastery in northern Romania (Sihăstria), less than two hours’ drive from Tanacu. According to the proposed reading, this monologue was the product of demons who had invaded and occupied the body of a possessed young woman for ten years. This presence of the Devil was not only the result of her sins, but also the effect of evil spells cast by the mother of a man whom she had refused to marry (Bălan 1993). The ‘monologue,’ which proposed an orthodox and popular culture reading of the demons, had been circulated on cassette and transcribed in a book published by the Metropolitanate of Moldova, entitled The Healing Power of the Holy Oil Office (Bălan 1993). The author, a literate monk, an archimandrite known during the communist era for the production of a hagiographical literature that valued figures of Romanian monks and confessors (Bălan 1980) and, through them, a national orthodoxy, was one of the officiants of the ritual. If the recording gave a voice to the demons, it above all staged the miraculous power of the monks. The book also proposed a mapping of an orthodoxy of miracles as deployed in the twentieth century on Romanian territory and contributed to the construction of the charismatic reputation of several monasteries located mainly in the northeast of the country. The publication of the book was justified by a worrying reading of the exit of communism, which made the presence of the Devil more prominent in society. The text identified some of the Devil’s weapons, namely, “atheism, renunciation of orthodoxy, lust and debauchery, alcoholism, crime, easy distractions, hatred between men, witchcraft, etc.” (Balan 1993, p. 53). In the 1990s, social inequalities increased and economic liberalization led to deindustrialization, which simultaneously fueled a return to the countryside and emigration to the West. The restitution of land nationalized under the communist regime introduced conflict within families themselves (Verdery 1996, 2003). In this context of uncertainty, the supply of modes of healing has diversified. Actors claiming to be orthodox rub shoulders not only with neo-Protestant2 movements, 2 The legalization of the Greek Catholic Church after the fall of communism challenged the monopoly of the Orthodox Church as a national religion. At the same time, neo-Protestant cults were growing significantly. In 2015, a statistic from the State Secretariat for Religious Affairs placed the Orthodox Church at the top of the list for the construction of new places of worship
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but also with those promoting divinatory therapies emerging from a semi-clandestine status (Chelcea and Lățea 2003), astrology and yoga. Figures from the monastic domain mobilize the reference to tradition. Some had been involved in the extreme right-wing orthodox movement in the early 1940s and had passed through communist prisons. Now aged, they embody the continuity of a monastic mysticism, often nationalistic.3 This trend had developed significantly between the two World Wars, when mystical orthodoxy fueled nationalist ideology and promoted an orthodox definition of the Romanian national identity (Clark 2015; Iordachi 2004; Livezeanu 1995; Popa 2017). This nationalization of the religious, a symbolic resource for national unification, was part of the nation state formation process. In Romania, as in other nation states of the area formed as a result of the decline of the Ottoman Empire, it began in the second half of the nineteenth century. Nationalist mysticism and, more broadly, monasticism were repressed in the first two decades of communism. A decree adopted in 1959 resulted in the closure of many monasteries and the reduction of monastic staff. It defined a threshold (55 years for women and 60 years for men) below which individuals, with the exception of theology graduates, were prohibited from entering a monastery (Enache and Petcu 2009; Forbess 2010). But in the years 1970–1980 a patrimonial revaluation of the monasteries took place, thanks to the nationalist turn of the Romanian communist regime. This patrimonialization makes possible a discrete development of the monastic environment, distinguishing Romania from the other Orthodox Churches of the communist East. At the same time, monasteries are exercising a new social seduction, at a time when the emancipatory ideology of the regime no longer makes people believe in the communist utopia. At the fall of communism, the high Orthodox hierarchy was challenged for having compromised with the past regime (Capelle-Pogăcean 2008). Thanks to their ability to distinguish themselves by their ascetic lifestyle and the purity of their isolation, actors from monasticism represent a resource for legitimization and spiritual renewal for the Orthodox Church. Pilgrimages and religious tourism to monasteries increased in the 1990s and 2000s (Bănica 2006). Within a Church in institutional growth, the monastic domain itself is growing. The number of monasteries (about 500) is estimated to have increased by three to four times from 1989 to 2005. Romania has the densest monastic network as compared to other regional orthodoxies, with a concentration traditionally located in the northeast of the country. In 2004, 12,855 priests and deacons and 8090 monks and nuns (2866 monks and 5224 nuns) served the Church (BOR, Organizarea. (n.d.); Nica 2009). However, this growth goes hand in hand with the recruitment of young people and an accelerated transmission of religious knowledge, freeing up space for ritual arrangements and since 1989 (3191), followed by Pentecostals (1950), Baptists (790) and Seventh Day Adventists (762) (Secretariatul de Stat pentru Culte 2005). 3 This is the case of Arsenie Papacioc (1914–2011), Iustin Pârvu (1919–2013) and Gheorghe Calciu-Dumitreasa (1925–2006), who took part in the controversy concerning Tanacu in defence of the monks.
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innovations. In this monastic world, whose horizon is no longer exclusively national, a local administrative authority and a spiritual authority whose center of reference is Mount Athos are gradually emerging in tension. The Tanacu monastery created in 2000 is part of this multifaceted institutional growth. The scandal of exorcism shows the polemical and political reappropriation of a monastic tradition and the affirmation of a charismatic authority that can be opposed to the administrative authority. In the monks’ discourse, the reference to the orthodoxy of the Egyptian Fathers is opposed to the bureaucratized religious mode, embodied by the leaders of the bishopric who are committed to ‘modernism.’ The hegumen testified to the relationship with his superiors: [T]they wanted to build a road to the monastery. I don’t need it. I want to lead a monastic life… I didn’t become a monk to live in a village, to stay under the streetlights and on the asphalt and take a shower with a perfumed shampoo. I became a monk to live as it is written that hermit monks live. This does not mean that we are not men. Or madmen, as they consider us. But spiritual elites who wish to rise from the earth to God. (OTV 2005b)
The statement is in keeping with the tradition of the Eastern Church, which places the monastic universe as a spiritual vanguard. The high clergy comes exclusively from this environment. The range of factors that brings together monks and spiritual elites is therefore also available to challenge the hierarchy and administrative authority. This version of hesychasm does not promote withdrawal from the world, but goes hand in hand with integration into local social relations. The Mother Superior, who, like the priest, comes from this region and who uses the power of the priest to care for her mother who suffers from epilepsy (Niculescu Bran 2007), looked back at the social conditions for production of a community and the value of social proximity: …the villages and villagers support us because here for five years the masses have not stopped and the father receives at any time the one who needs him; we had only one sponsor to build the church, the rest we did with the two cents of the widow that we used to build cells for each of the nuns; we did not buy foreign cars, nor did we build palaces. (OTV 2005b)
This socially anchored orthodoxy also appears as the bastion of an orthodoxy that is a vehicle for national identity, doubly threatened: from within the Church by a hierarchy that promotes doctrinal and institutional changes and promotes ecumenism, and from the outside, by migration, secularization and consumption, of which the media are the vectors. In the Tanacu monks’ narrative, the local hierarchy was associated with the desire for ritual and institutional reform, but also with an ostentatious consumption that goes hand in hand with a commodification of the Church. Where the bishopric accused the priest of being close to a powerful local businessman, the foundation of his economic independence, the hegumen and his supporters questioned the transformation of the monasteries of the diocese into commercial enterprises. These are responsible for the sale not only of religious objects and books, but also of wine or brandy from producers linked to the religious institution, in exchange for episcopal support. During the televised testimony, these practices were implicitly mentioned.
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On the other hand, the local hierarchy was explicitly criticized for not having had the courage to confirm the theological truth of the Devil’s existence at the beginning of the media scandal. It had thus legitimized the sensationalist (and secularist) reading of the media without God. A possible closure of the monastery could provoke “a revolt. Not only here but in the country,” said Father Daniel (OTV 2005b). The televised account of deliverance thus took on prophetic accents and made visible in the public space tensions and internal competition within the Church and the society in which it is anchored, which contribute to the visibility of the Devil. The episcopal sanction came two days after the interview. The exclusion of the five monks from monastic life and of Daniel Corogeanu from the priesthood was adopted at the end of a rapid procedure, in the absence of the interested parties, who were not heard. It was promoted by the bishop vicar, who wrote in a report presented to the patriarchate: “Father Daniel is an unskilled individual, who took advantage of our clemency when we were facing a crisis of monastic personnel” (Niculescu Bran 2007, pp. 35–36). This 39-year-old high hierarchical figure, who followed the doctoral training of the Faculty of Protestant Theology at the University of Marburg, is a close relative of the Metropolitan of Moldova who embodies the ecumenical trend among the high clergy.4 The bishop vicar experienced a rapid rise in the hierarchy, made possible by his academic capital and his interpersonal skills. Thus, barely two years after his tonsure, he became an archimandrite, achieving the highest rank of monasticism, and soon after, a bishop vicar, right-hand man of an aging and sick bishop. In the second half of the 1990s, the latter had encouraged the creation of monasteries, sometimes, as in the case of Tanacu, with the support of businessmen who had become prosperous in the turbulent circumstances of the transition from the state-owned economy to the market economy. It was necessary to consolidate a bishopric that had been abolished during the communist era and reconstituted in 1996. In 2005, however, some of the diocesan monasteries shared neither the ecumenical orientation nor the institutional vision of the rejuvenated hierarchy. In this context, the Tanacu scandal was a test of power for the bishop vicar. The Synod, the highest decision-making body of the Church, noted its analysis, after two days of bitter debates, on 7 July 2005. A statement from the Patriarchate’s press office expressed the “astonishment, dismay and pain” of the assembly of bishops and accused the priest and nuns of imposing on Irina Cornici the suffering “which led to the death of the victim” (Patriarhia 2005). The presumption of innocence was not retained. The text also validated the clerical sanction decided locally. By opposing their bishop, the hegumen and nuns violated the vow of obedience, it was said. Nevertheless, the Synod did not relegate exorcism to the margins of primitive orthodoxy, nor did it call for a ban on this ritual in monasteries, as some members of the clergy suggested at the beginning of the case.
4 The Metropolitan of Moldova obtained his doctorate from the Faculty of Protestant Theology at the University of Strasbourg. In the 1980s he spent several years as associate professor and deputy director of the Ecumenical Institute in Bossey, near Geneva. In 2007, he was elected head of the Romanian Patriarchate.
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Instead, the statement insisted on the importance of canonically framing the practice and policing the Devil: Exorcism, that is, the sequence of prayers to drive out evil spirits, is part of the doctrine and practice of the Universal Church, being founded in the Holy Scriptures; it consists exclusively in prayers accompanied by the sprinkling of holy water and anointing with holy oil. Any act or process beyond this, such as those that took place in Tanacu, constitutes serious violations of ecclesiastical discipline. (Patriarhia 2005)
The text also specified that “the tragic event in Tanacu is the first of its kind in the history of the Orthodox Church and cannot be considered emblematic and defining of Romanian orthodoxy; similarly, there is no danger of contagion in monastic or parish circles” (Patriarhia 2005). However, bishops were invited to intervene against “ritual excesses,” which would be the effect of reputation competitions (“vedettism”) or would have “pecuniary motivations” leading religious personnel to easily respond to social demand. This position reflects the search for a compromise between the defenders of doctrinal orthodoxy, whose power in the religious field is legitimate through academic capital accumulated through long theological studies in Romania and the West, and those, linked to monasticism, much older, honored as great charismatic confessors, who embody a lived orthodoxy and speak the language of mysticism, mixed with nationalism, and who support Tanacu’s hegumen. Both criticize the way in which the local hierarchy handled the Tanacu scandal and excluded the monks long before the criminal investigation was completed. But the former exploit this as an opportunity to rationalize the Church inside its own truth regime. A theologian warns against the danger of “shamanic orthodoxy” (Preda 2005). A bishop vicar assigned to the Romanian archdiocese of Munich insists, during a meeting recorded and published on an orthodox blog, on the need to strengthen catechesis in the face of a popular orthodoxy described, rather, as superstitious, thus giving rise to a magical mobilization of the Church required to “ensure the prosperity, health and annihilation of enemies identified as a source of misfortune” (Brasoveanul 2005). After the Synod’s meeting, a priest, a doctor of theology, calls for the refoundation, “between the limits of tradition,” of what was built after the fall of the communist regime “with more or less discernment” (after 1989) (Costache 2005). In the monastic camp, the Synod’s communiqué slowed down the mobilization sketched out in favor of the hegumen and the nuns, at least in its public dimension. A letter had been circulated before the meeting of the bishops, signed by five renowned charismatic confessors, nationalists, and anti-ecumenists, who judged the practice of the Tanacu priest as canonical (Niculescu Bran 2007). Famous confessors and some hegumens at the head of monasteries in northern Romania had expressed themselves in the same way in orthodox forums (Calciu-Dumitreasa 2005; Filotheu 2005; Guşă 2005). All judged the brutal exclusion from monasticism of the five religious actors as non-canonical. The validation by the top hierarchy of the episcopal sanction was considered as a renunciation. But the criticisms, which were rare, remained confined to the space of orthodox forums and some periodicals independent of the Church, where counter-speeches emerged participating in
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several conflicts. In a widely distributed monthly orthodox magazine, an archimandrite expressed his fear of the marginalization of monks and denounced a part of the urban parish clergy who, for financial reasons, had invested in and so impoverished the ritual of exorcism, traditionally associated with the monastic universe (Stoica 2005). He thus contrasted an authentic orthodoxy of the monasteries, faithful to tradition, with that colored, in certain parishes, by the capitalist spirit of the time. The defenders of nationalist and anti-ecumenical monasticism perceived the media coverage of Tanacu’s exorcism by the press, and the institutional management of the scandal by the Orthodox Church, as a test of marginalization. This came at a time when Romania was preparing to join a secularized European Union on 1 January 2007. However, this prospect was worrying. The Tanacu scandal became the position from which it was possible to denounce the reformist and ecumenical hierarchy as an actor of secularization and submission to the West. An old monk (86 years of age), a charismatic promoter of anti-ecumenical sensitivity, who was close to the hegumen of Tanacu, criticized, two years after the drama, in a nationalist orthodox journal, the reformist ambitions of the high hierarchy: “not only did it [the hierarchy] not explain the importance of the Church’s prayers, but it renounced certain ecclesial ceremonies established with equal care and piety by the Saints and Fathers of the Church” (Pârvu 2009). Thanks to the dissemination of judicial information, defending Daniel Corogeanu – betrayed by the hierarchy – validating his practice beyond the mistakes that can be attributed to his young age and a lack of humility, also fed a denunciation of the State, its public health system and its justice, which marginalizes the weakest. The defense of mystical monasticism aligns with a nationalist and anti-European critique of the neoliberal state, as in a pamphlet published by a monk, Savatie Bastovoi—a renowned writer translated into several languages of Moldovan origin and known for his nationalist commitment – “For Whom the Bell Tolls in Tanacu” (Baștovoi 2009). The controversies surrounding Tanacu’s exorcism led to an institutional definition of the legitimate way of managing the Devil and to a series of institutional and ritual reforms. It put in a strong position actors among the high clergy favoring ritual aggiornamento, while making visible a minority group of resistance fighters concentrated mainly in the northeast of Romania. Institutional polarization was not only the result of a dynamic specific to the growing institution, the institutional growth within the Church faced with the diversification of capitals and sources of authority, in the national and transnational field. The post-communist mediatization modes of orthodoxy also worked the institutional dynamics. Notwithstanding the diversification of actors and technologies (mass television and print media; specialized orthodox media, dependent on or independent of the Church; blogs; orthodox resource sites), emotional or sensational approaches dominated this mediatization which promoted the visibility of the religion and, in this case, the Devil. However, this visibility regime was the subject of criticism from public intellectuals who mobilized diverse academic knowledge, history, anthropology, and theology to assert expertise and an elitist position. The controversy surrounding Tanacu redeployed this elite critique of post-communist orthodoxy formulated by actors whose influence on the institution remains weak.
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The proliferation of exorcisms and miracles proposed by Orthodox monks and priests “claiming in a more or less justified way to have different ‘powers,’ including that of exorcising” (Vasileanu 2005), was denounced by the chief editor responsible for the supplement “Culture and Religion” of a central daily newspaper. In an editorial calling for the “exorcisation of the popes factory [sic],” he questioned the quality of theological training “which could be improved by the assimilation of psychological knowledge” (Vasileanu 2005). An orthodox conservative essayist considered Tanacu’s drama as revealing of “postcommunist theological illiteracy” and “the mental confusion of a society dechristianized by communism and chaotically adapted to the contemporary world which inevitably produces phenomena of false chaotic rechristianization” (Paleologu 2005). This, while challenging media ignorance and its “myth of the Middle Ages.” Another conservative, a historian trained in the United States, expressed doubts about this elite intellectual posture and above all denounced “the calvinization tendencies of orthodoxy” manifested by a hierarchy that has distanced the elders from the control of the Church (Platon 2005). The mode of management of the Devil thus opens up an area of intellectual competition where the dominant group stages an orthodox urbanity as opposed to a superstitious rurality. More radical, anti-possessionist criticisms, if we take Michel de Certeau’s distinction between those who believe in the possibility of possession and those who do not, come from actors who have been committed since the 1990s to the separation of the State and the Church in Romania. The Tanacu controversy coincided in time with the discussion of a new law on cults that was adopted in January 2007, at the time of Romania’s entry into the European Union. In this context, calls were multiplying for a separation of the State and the majority Church, which claims the status of national Church. The scandal was an opportunity to delegitimize this requirement and criticize the promotion from the highest level of the hierarchy of “primitive superstitions and customs, without any spiritual charge, rather contrary to Christianity which is a religion of values and not explanatory aberrations” (Andreescu 2005). From a perspective of self-orientalism, Tanacu’s exorcism was interpreted as a symptom of a gap for which the Orthodox Church was responsible, in relation to “a new European mentality”: [I]n a region that barely breathes [economically], what other refuge can there be than alcoholism and mystical faith? And the proximity to the Slavic space, or rather the neighbourhood with the Republic of Moldova, accentuates the weight of this type of refuge. It is obviously nobler to have direct access to the transcendent than to drown in ethyl fumes, but none of these gestures rhyme with a new mentality, reformed and adapted, pragmatic and realistic, productive and European. (Protopopescu 2005)
The Tanacu scandal thus reveals a field of multiple tensions that controversies are redeploying. Media, religious, and intellectual actors debate both the place of orthodoxy in Romanian society and its legitimate contour and internal hierarchies, based on a variety of resources and legitimacy. The social visibility of the Devil appears to be the effect of these disputes.
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11.5 Conclusion In the wake of Michel de Certeau’s suggestion that exorcism is a ‘language of social anxiety,’ this article took as its subject the scandal of Tanacu’s exorcism to shed light on the concerns of which the social visibility of the Devil is the product. The analysis of the media coverage of Tanacu’s exorcism made it possible to observe the metaphorical usages of a figure of the Devil who is not confined solely to religious space but is anchored in an imaginary shaped over time by intertwined popular and religious beliefs. The various ways of engaging with this imaginary can hardly be described using the dichotomic language opposing official religion and popular religion (or lived religion), or as a struggle between possessionists and anti-possessionists. However, in the context of the institutional growth of the Orthodox Church some actors mobilize this dichotomy in their competitions, as the Tanacu scandal and the contest over norms of the management of the Devil have shown. These competitions are simultaneously fueled by national and transnational dynamics and processes. They are the result of an accelerated diversification of the forms of authorities and of the religious sensibilities within post-communist orthodoxy. Dominant and dominated actors emerge in this way. At the same time, the publicization vehicles for these competitions are multiplying. The actors in the disputes over the management of the Devil can mobilize either a doctrinaire knowledge or a mystical knowledge (sometimes referred to Mount Athos), putting forward a thaumaturgic tradition reinvigorated in competition with the neo-Protestants and divination practices. This may or may not be associated with an orthodox nationalist ideology that emerged between the two World Wars and was redeployed after the fall of the communist regime. But the circulation of the Devil is not only the effect of post-communist religious competitions. The latter diversify the range of healing therapies in the context of a growing demand that does not come only from the working classes, from those penaliset by the post-communist changes. The Tanacu exorcism scandal is a multi-layered scene. Actors as diverse as the monks of a rigorist monastery, a young woman raised in an orphanage – who had experienced labor emigration to Germany – and the director of a psychiatry department in a provincial town, but also the lawyer who represented the accused, all spell out the therapeutic powers of orthodoxy, which they applied in various registers and contexts. Exorcism is one of the orthodox healing tools. Its use creates a scandal and divides only when it is publicly denounced because associated with death and not with healing. This publicization of exorcism is invested by various actors to promote specific agendas. Yet the scandal took hold because it divided and created two asymmetrical camps, one denouncing the exorcist as a murderer, the other celebrating him as a therapist turned martyr. The opposition of these two camps highlights social hierarchies and takes on identity accents. On the accusers’ side, the Tanacu scandal makes it possible to build a Romanian spatial and temporal elsewhere, a marginal otherness, both rural and regional – eastern Romania in contact with a Slavic world – associated not only with
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poverty and backwardness, but also with an orthodox piety suspected of European non-compliance, less than two years before Romania’s entry into the European Union. The supporters of the hegumen of Tanacu question a legal procedure that leads to a disputed truth. The responsibility of religious specialists in the death of Irina Cornici remains partly unclear, and this uncertainty calls into question the medical and judicial truth. Finally, the visibility of the Devil also reflects the disturbances of these different regimes of truth.
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Chapter 12
Confidence in Society, Exorcism, and Paranormal Practices: The Mediating and Moderating Role of Spirituality Victor Counted and Adam Possamai Abstract This chapter examines the role of spirituality in the relationship between confidence in Australian society and paranormal outcomes involving belief in demons and the practice of exorcism among different religious and non-religious groups of Australian Facebook users (N = 760; Female: 60%). It provides an understanding of the nature of paranormal phenomena among different individuals in relation to their experience of spirituality and confidence in Australian religious, health, legal, and educational institutions. Using bivariate and multivariate analyses, we assessed the role of spirituality in the relationship between confidence in Australian society and paranormal practices involving belief in demons and practice of exorcism among five religious and/or non-religious groups: Christian, NonChristian, No Religion, Spiritual, and those who identify with Paganism. Compared to other groups, pagan participants scored higher in paranormal practices involving belief in demons and practice of exorcism but significantly lower in scores of levels of confidence in society. Female participants also scored significantly higher in paranormal practices than their male counterparts. Overall, further analysis indicates the mediating and moderating effects of spirituality in the relationship between confidence in society and the practice of exorcism. The moderating effect was such that confidence in Australian society was negatively related to the practice of exorcism among spiritual participants compared to those who are not spiritual. On the other hand, the mediating effect suggests that spirituality could account for the negative relationship between confidence in society and practice of exorcism. This implies that spirituality contributes to the way through which lack of confidence in society influences practices of exorcism. These findings shed further light on de Certeau’s classic study of exorcism and his hypothesis that the devil is more likely to emerge in times of crisis
V. Counted (*) · A. Possamai School of Social Sciences, Western Sydney University, Sydney, NSW, Australia e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 G. Giordan, A. Possamai (eds.), The Social Scientific Study of Exorcism in Christianity, Popular Culture, Religion and Society. A Social-Scientific Approach 3, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-43173-0_12
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Keywords Confidence in society · Exorcism · Paranormal experiences · Spirituality
12.1 Introduction Recent studies have highlighted the salutary effects of spirituality in contemporary life (Kuh and Gonyea 2006), discussing how this phenomenon is related to health outcomes (Counted et al. 2018; Eckersley 2007), and important for public life (Mouw 2005) and community development (Dalton 2007; Spittles 2008). These studies position spirituality as an important construct analogous to meaning-making; an existential experience that can be developed outside the walls of traditional religious institutions. Over the past two decades, scholarly literature on spiritual experiences has reasoned for a clearer understanding of spirituality’s defining essence and relevance in contemporary society. Attempts have been made to conceptualize spirituality in various disciplines and from different theoretical frameworks. For examples, spirituality has been conceptualized based on the attachment-religion relational model (Counted et al. 2018; Granqvist and Kirkpatrick 2016), within the context of New Age spiritualities and popular religions (Possamai 2000), and self-ecological constructs involving nature connectedness and ecopsychology (Trigwell et al. 2014). Having a sense of spirituality can be kaleidoscopic and does not always entail being religious as well. Indeed, individuals who identify themselves as being spiritual may not necessarily be religious; in the same way, religious individuals may not be spiritual (Pascarella and Terenzini 2005). According to Possamai (2000), being ‘spiritual’ emphasizes the position of believers as individuals who locate authority in their inner selves, thus perceiving themselves as unique individuals expressing their spirituality through a plethora of affinitive connections with the sacred. Being ‘religious’ emphasizes the position of the individual believer as an affiliated member of an established religious institution or tradition. Studies have shown that emerging adults in contemporary society are more likely to be spiritual than religious, due to the freedom their sense of spirituality gives them to explore the depth of their being outside the circumference of religious membership. This category of believers has been conceptualized as the ‘spiritual but not religious’ group (Herzog and Beadle 2018). This particular group of spiritual individuals has gained a great deal of attention in mainstream media, partly because they offer a warning to those in established religions who think they are not connected to the sacred. According to Watts (2017), this understanding of ‘religion’ problematizes the nature of religious experience, which is complex and multifaceted, taking different forms in different people and contexts. In addition, having a sense of spirituality can be a foundation for paranormal perceptions, with reports showing that individuals reporting paranormal activities identify themselves as being spiritual (Eaton 2015; Irwin 2018). The perception of paranormal phenomena has been studied as both a psychological state and a psychological trait (Irwin 2018; Nees and Phillips 2014), with ‘psychological state’
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emphasizing how believers in paranormal activities recount their experiences based on transient reactions to internal and external episodes (Clapin 2002; Irwin 2018). The ‘psychological trait’ emphasizes how such activities and beliefs are relatively stable attributes of the individual’s disassociative personality (Hamaker et al. 2007; Saucier 2008). For example, McClenon (2005) claims that the psychological trait basis for paranormal experiences is usually allied with an ongoing dissociation – a sort of detachment from reality, involving a biological contagion and trauma. Measures of paranormal phenomena developed by Tobacyk and colleagues (1983, 1985, 2004) include an eclectic mix of mystical experiences, and themes involving belief in ghosts, demons, and the practice of exorcism. However, while these studies contribute to the overarching literature on spirituality and paranormal phenomena, none has examined how these experiences may be related to the individual’s level of confidence in the world. Most studies have only explored the role of spirituality in shaping self confidence among believers who model their identity in relation to their religious figure (Top, Chadwick, & McClendon, 2003). Another study by Hughes (2009) examined the concept of spiritual confidence among Australian secondary school students, noting that a lack of confidence is related to lower levels of ontological well-being, which involves having a sense of identity, self-esteem, and a life purpose. The way individuals perceive themselves in relation to their society can have an effect on their life and spiritual experiences. For example, individuals with a strong sense of self, who have confidence in themselves and in their society may engage in paranormal activities without losing a sense of who they are in the process. Spirituality may partly explain the relationship between one’s level of confidence and their engagement in paranormal practices. However, engaging in paranormal practices may be an indication of a lack of confidence in one’s society; the individual engaging in such practices may have given up hope in the functionality of his or her society, and thus be seeking for answers to life’s challenges through paranormal means. According to Thomas (1999), in her book Under the Canopy, mystical practices involving belief in the existence of demons and the practice of exorcism are a response to the systemic issues faced by people who lack access to basic healthcare and the satisfaction of their societal needs. The casting of demons, according to Thomas (1999), was a way of negotiating the qualities of life that are missing for people on the margins of society, serving as a resource for socio-political and economic transformation. Lack of confidence in the system has been conceptualized by de Certeau (2005) in terms of the notion of crisis and the resurgence of the Devil. In his classic study of exorcism, he argues that such paranormal perceptions are more likely to emerge in times of crisis. Given the complex nature of the relationships between level of confidence in one’s society, spirituality, and paranormal practices, we propose the following hypotheses. First, we expect (H1) that spirituality will be positively associated with paranormal outcomes involving belief in demons and the practice of exorcism, given that having a sense of spirituality exposes spiritual individuals to paranormal experiences regardless of their religious background. Second, we hypothesize (H2) that confidence in established institutions in a society will be negatively related to
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belief in demons and the practice of exorcism, since believers in the paranormal who lack confidence in their society may turn to paranormal activities for assurance of security and ontological well-being. Third, we expect (H3) that spirituality will be unrelated to confidence in the Australian society, or at least not directly related. It is further hypothesized (H4) that spirituality will have a moderating effect on the relationship between level of confidence and a person’s paranormal experiences involving belief in demons and the practice of exorcism. In other words, the impact, on paranormal experiences, of having confidence in Australian society will be affected by the individual’s sense of spiritual connectedness. This hypothesis shows the role of spirituality in the individual’s life as an agency for counteracting and/or enhancing paranormal perceptions that may emerge during a time of crisis, when confidence in society is lost. Lastly, it is hypothesized (H5) that spirituality will mediate the confidence/paranormal link, such that confidence in society will be indirectly related paranormal practices via the sense of spirituality.
12.2 Methods 12.2.1 Participants and Procedure Using the Qualtrics online software and Facebook adverts between 31 January and 21 June 2017, cross-sectional data was collected from Australian Facebook users, in order to understand their religious and paranormal experiences and their perception of their society. Through a Facebook advertisement inviting potential participants of all age groups, interested persons completed the online survey on Qualtrics and data were retrieved for preliminary analysis. The use of the online survey was necessary since this data collection technique, according to Couper and Bosnjak (2010), helps in accessing hard-to-reach groups that might not be easily reachable, and especially, we assumed, individuals who practice exorcism and believe in demons. Also, as the sample was non-probability based, posting the survey online was ideal (Couper and Bosnjak 2010; Fricker 2008). Study participants were asked to place themselves on various scales comprising paranormal belief items, confidence in Australian society, and religious experiences. Participation was voluntary and confidential. A total of 889 participants showed interest in completing the online survey; however only 760 participants completed it appropriately. The time-wizard calculation was used to determine the minimum amount of time participants could take to complete the survey. Based on five pilot tests conducted it was determined that it would take a minimum of 15–20 min to complete the entire survey, hence participants who spent about 5 min on the survey may have rushed it or not mentally engaged with the questions. Based on our time-wizard calculation, we removed 129 responses. Cross-sectional data on the remaining 760 participants were used to examine the relationships among confidence in Australian society, spirituality, and paranormal outcomes involving belief
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in demons and the practice of exorcism. Data analyses were performed using SPSS 24.0. Study participants (N = 760) were of various demographics. More than half were female (n = 436; 60%). The year of birth of the participants ranged between 1927 and 2001, with a mean year of 1965 (SD = 16.54). More than half of the participants (67%) were born and raised in Australia, while others were born in Austria, Canada, China, Germany, New Zealand, Philippines, Zimbabwe, Scotland, Sweden, United Kingdom, United States of America, Vietnam, Seychelles, among other countries. More than half of the participants (68%) had a tertiary education qualification whereas other completed a high school certificate (19%) and a technical certificate (9%). The survey question on religious background was ignored by 31 participants (4%). With regards to the religious group composition, majority of the participants (N = 411) identified themselves as non-religious (54%) whereas 242 of them identified as Christian (32%). We have in this category 9.1% (66) of Catholics, 7.7% (56) of Anglicans, 10.6% of Protestants (77 people in Baptist, Lutheran, Pentecostals, Presbyterian, and Uniting churches). Only 3 claimed to be from the Orthodox church and some claimed to be ‘Christian’ without indicating any specific denomination. The non-Christian sample was lower with only 3% (9 Buddhists, 4 Jewish, 1 Hindu, 4 Muslims, and others). Fifty-three participants (7%) claimed to be spiritual while answering the question on religious belonging. We put together in the Pagan category people who claimed to be Wiccan, Pantheist and Animist. They were 30, that is 4% of the sample. Two people (one Dudeist and one Dischordian) claimed to be religious but as the number was so small, it was not statistically relevant to categorise them in the hyper-real religious category (Possamai 2012). One question of the survey asks the participants the extent to which they see themselves as spiritual. Table 12.1 shows that 37% of the whole sample would regard themselves as moderately and very spiritual. More than half of all the respondent who claimed to be religious (as a categorical variable) were also spiritual (as a continuous variable). The No Religion category also includes 61 people (19%) who thought themselves as spiritual. It is not clear from the way we phrased this question if this style of spirituality was humanist or secular. Among the self-identifies spiritual peoples, 80% of people of them claimed to be moderate or very spiritual on the spiritual scale. For this Chapter, we are using ‘Spiritual’ as a category for those who listed ‘spirituality’ in the other category to the question about their religion (as a categorical variable). For the ‘non-religion’ category we refer to those who ticked Table 12.1 Spirituality To what extent do you see yourself as a spiritual person? [Moderate to very (4 and 5 from a 1–5 scale)] No Religion Pagan Spiritual All Religious Christian Non- N = 319 N = 30 N = 20 N = 613 Categories N = 222 Christian N = 22 N (%) 116 (52%) 13 (59%) 61 (19%) 19 (63%) 16 (80%) 225 (37%)
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Table 12.2 Supernatural beliefs How much do you agree or disagree with the following statements? (Scale from 1 to 7) Only the evil ghosts must be exorcised [Somewhat to Strongly Agree]
Christian N = 227 23 (10%) We need more exorcists to fight N = 228 the devil. [Somewhat to Strongly 22 Agree]1. (10%) Ghosts are spirits of the dead N = 228 [Somewhat to Strongly Agree]1. 77 (21%) N = 229 Attended a ritual to expel demons and evil spirits [At least 16 (7%) once]1. N = 227 All ghosts are demons [Somewhat to Strongly Agree]1. 20 (8%) Not all ghosts are dangerous N = 228 [Somewhat to Strongly Agree]1. 93 (41%) I sometimes feel an unseen and N = 227 evil presence around me 60 [Somewhat to Strongly Agree]1. (26%) N = 227 I sometimes feel a ghostly presence around me[Somewhat 63 to Strongly Agree]1. (28%) Some ghosts can be the spirit of N = 227 our ancestors [Somewhat to 85 Strongly Agree]1. (37%) N = 229 I feel anxious when I feel a presence of something that I 44 can’t see but can feel [Somewhat (19%) to Strongly Agree]1.
Non- Christian N = 24 2 (8%) N = 24 1 (4%)
No Religion Pagan N = 383 N = 28 14 (4%) 4 (14%) N = 387 N = 38 1 (0%) 0 (0%)
N = 23 5 (13%)
N = 384 62 (9%)
N = 24 2 (8%)
N = 398 3 (1%)
N = 24 0 (0%) N = 24 6 (25%)
N = 384 2 (0%) N = 383 95 (25%)
N = 24 5 (21%)
N = 386 35 (9%)
N = 24 4 (17%)
N = 387 71 (18%)
N = 24 N = 383 10 (42%) 65 (17%) N = 24 3 (12%)
N = 386 55 (14%)
N = 28 19 (36%) N = 30 5 (16%) N = 28 0 (0%) N = 28 24 (86%) N = 28 9 (32%) N = 28 18 (72%) N = 28 23 (82%) N = 28 7 (25%)
Spiritual All N = 21 N = 683 0 (0%) 43 (6%) N = 21 1 (4%)
N = 688 25 (4%)
N = 21 N = 684 8 (33%) 171 (25%) N = 21 N = 702 1 (5%) 27 (4%) N = 21 0 (0%) N = 21 11 (52%) N = 21 5 (24%)
N = 684 22 (3%) N = 684 229 (33%) N = 686 114 (16%) N = 21 N = 687 11 167 (52%) (24%) N = 21 N = 683 9 (43%) 192 (28%) N = 21 N = 688 5 (24%) 114 (17%)
the box ‘no religion’. We acknowledge the fussiness of these categories and this is an issue experienced by many researchers (e.g. Cox and Possamai 2016). Table 12.2 provides some cross-tabulations between these various religious categories and some supernatural beliefs focused on exorcism, ghosts and demons among the participants. The cross-tabulation offers insight on the distribution of the sample in relation to their paranormal practices. For example, the data show that 4% (N = 27) of the sample have attended at least one ritual to expel demons and evil spirits. While there were not many among the non-religion (1%) there was a higher proportion among Pagan (16%). This give further evidence to the argument of Giordan and Possamai (2018) who have discussed how these rituals are becoming more and more ‘normal’. Even if this is a small percentage, we were not expecting such an amount from this sample. Overall, only 4% (25) believed that there is a need
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for more exorcists, the highest percentage being among the Christians (10%). 26% of the Christians can sometime feel an unseen and evil presence around them, but that does not mean that this creates a stronger need for exorcism. Of interest, 32% of Pagans feel the same presence but none of them has asked for more exorcists. If something has to be done, it is clearly through another way than using an exorcist. This makes sense as many Christian exorcists would claim that paganism is a cause to attract the devil. Study participants also seem to believe in demons and ghosts, even though this is also a difficult category to define. The history of exorcism details that at certain time period, and within certain groups, all ghosts were deemed to be all evil entities. Various religions would also recognise that non-evil ghosts can also possess people (Giordan and Possamai 2018). The statements in Table 12.2 were thus created to test these beliefs, and it appears that Pagan participants were the strongest group claiming that not all ghosts are dangerous (86%) and that they can be the spirit of their ancestors (82%). We have less non-religious people (25% and 17% respectively) but still a fair amount among Christians (41% and 37% respectively). What is discussed in theological texts and at sermons is not always followed through in the everyday believes of people. It is however among the Christians (8%) that we find the strongest belief that ghosts are demons. Apart from two non-religious people, no one else hold that belief. Of interest, even if Pagans seem to be the group most inclined in not equating ghosts with demons, it does not mean that they cannot feel anxious when feeling a presence (25%), which is higher than the average (17%) and the Christian group (19%). While the crosstabulation table summarises examples of items used for assessing paranormal practices in this current study, the data also show that not having a religion does not mean that one does not believe in the paranormal. More insights on the operationalisation of the measures are provided in subsequent paragraphs.
12.2.2 Measures Belief in the Practice of Exorcism A 7 item scale on the practice of exorcism was used to assess participants’ understanding, belief in, and practice of exorcism. This measure was reliable with a Cronbach’s alpha of .74, scaled on a 1 (“strongly disagree”) to 7 (“strongly agree”) rating scale. Sample items included the following: “We need more exorcists to fight the Devil”; “Ghosts are spirits of the dead”; “Only the evil ghosts must be exorcized.” Mean score average was computed, with higher scores suggesting the likelihood of practicing exorcism and lower scores indicating a lack of belief in exorcism or non-practice of exorcism. Belief in Demons Participants’ belief in demons was assessed using a 10 item scale which explored the extent to which they feel or experience the presence of a non- human, ghost-like or demonic entity. Examples of these items included: “I sometimes feel a ghostly (demonic) presence around me”; “I sometimes feel an unseen
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and evil presence around me.” These statements were rated on a scale of 1 (“strongly disagree”) to 7 (“strongly agree”). A mean score was computed, with higher scores denoting a strong belief in demons and lower scores suggesting a lesser or lack of belief in demonic entities. Cronbach’s alpha was 0.89 for this scale. Spirituality We assessed participants’ sense of spirituality using questions that measured the extent to which the participants saw themselves as spiritual but not religious. Questions included: “To what extent do you see yourself as a spiritual person?” which was scored on a 1–6 Likert scale (“not spiritual at all” to “very spiritual”); “In my life, I experience the presence of the Divine” which was rated on a 1 to 6 Likert scale (“Strongly Disagree” to “Strongly Agree”). Spirituality was rendered as the total mean score for each of these items, with higher scores suggesting a higher level of spirituality. Cronbach alpha was 0.81 for this scale. Level of Confidence in Australian Society Participants were asked to rate to what extent they have confidence in their society and its established institutions, on a scale of 1 (“not at all”) to 6 (“a great deal”). Statements presented tap into different levels of confidence in relation to the Australian religious institutions, legal system, media, banks, police, local government, state government, federal government, major companies, schools and educational system, health systems, and charities. Ratings were summed and mean-averaged to measure the level of confidence in Australian society. This scale has a reliable Cronbach alpha of 0.85. Socio-demographics We collected data on the profile of the participants in relation to their gender (1 = Female; 2 = Male), religious background (1 = Christian; 2 = Non Christian; 3 = No Religion; 4 = Spiritual but no religious; 5 = Pagan) and year of birth (average year mean: 1964). These data were used as control variables for estimating the relationship between level of confidence, spirituality, and paranormal outcomes involving belief in demons and the practice of exorcism.
12.2.3 Data Analysis The study’s results are presented in two batches and sets of calculations which were done using the SPSS software. First, sub-group mean differences in relation to gender and religious background are summarized in Table 12.3 using the analysis of variance (ANOVA), which is used to analyse the differences among group means in a sample. Second, descriptive statistics are calculated and presented in Table 12.4, summarizing the mean scores, standard deviations, and Pearson’s r correlations between paranormal outcomes, spirituality, and level of confidence in society. Next, as shown in Table 12.5, a moderation and mediation analyses were conducted, using a hierarchical regression analyses to identify the direct and indirect effects between level of confidence, spirituality, and paranormal outcomes involving belief in demons and the practice of exorcism among different religious
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groups. In the first Step of the hierarchical regression analysis, we introduced Confidence in Society in the first step, followed by Spirituality in Step 2, and then the interaction terms (Spirituality X Confidence in Society) in Step 3. All tests were set at p