by Matt Baglio
With his medium height and build, thinning but neatly trimmed brown hair, and gold circular wire-framed glasses, Father Gary had the unassuming appearance of a person content to put others at ease. While not physically imposing, he exuded the quiet confidence of a man who loves his job and knows he is very good at it.
Since the rules of his diocese require that priests be relocated after fifteen years of service, Father Gary took advantage of the opportunity to take a well-deserved sabbatical. Rome, with its numerous seminaries and prestigious universities, presents visiting priests a unique opportunity. For many, studying at Pontifical universities such as the Gregorian, where fourteen previous popes and twenty saints have studied, is an intensely sought-after privilege. Most of these students are full-time, either getting their license (equivalent to a master's degree) or doctorate. A few priests, however, are sent by their diocese for some reason, or, like Father Gary, they are taking a sabbatical year to do further study. One program that catered to this latter group was the Institute for Continuing Theological Education at the North American College (NAC), the largest American seminary on foreign soil. Started in the 1970s as a way to implement some of the calls by the Second Vatican Council for priestly renewal, the institute began offering a three-month “sabbatical” program at the NAC for priests who wanted to keep pace with current trends within the Church. At the same time, participants got a chance to enjoy Rome and to meet fellow priests from around the world.
Back in April, Father Gary had signed up to attend the continuing education program from September to November, after which he was going to take a couple of classes on spirituality at the Angelicum, the Pontifical University run by the Dominicans across town.
When he'd first arrived in the city in August 2005, he'd found Rome intimidating. Not only was there the language barrier (he didn't speak Italian), but the city, with its myriad tiny streets, proved extremely difficult to navigate. Now, after living in the city two months, he could laugh at himself for his early trepidation. He knew the bus system as well as any local and could go just about anywhere he wanted.
In addition to his time at the NAC and in other classes, Father Gary had another important assignment: His bishop requested that he take a specific course to become an exorcist. In fact, that morning he was on his way to the first session. Concerned about being late, he turned up Via de Gasperi and quickened his pace.
IN THE WINTER OF 2005, as Father Gary's time at Saint Nicholas was winding down, exorcism had been the last thing on his mind. At his Jesus Caritas monthly priest support group, he was surprised when his good friend Father Kevin Joyce mentioned that the Vatican had sent a letter to every diocese in the United States asking that an exorcist be appointed, and that the bishop had pegged him for the post.
Tall, lean, and studious-looking, Father Kevin personified the image of a thoughtful, composed priest. Yet perhaps most striking was his youth and vigor; despite being fifty-seven, he easily appeared fifteen years younger. Father Gary had known Father Kevin for nearly twenty years, and with his background (he had a doctorate in religious education with a specialty in spirituality), he seemed like the perfect choice to become an exorcist. But Father Kevin explained that he intended to decline the appointment. He had recently started the diocese's spirituality center and wouldn't have time to do both.
The fact that the diocese was planning to appoint an exorcist caught Father Gary off guard. The subject of evil spirits and demonic possession didn't often come up in his parish. In the previous year, he'd only spoken about the Devil during mass twice, once prompting a parishioner to ask him not to do it again for fear of frightening his kids. It wasn't a popular topic with priests in general.
While not exactly ambivalent about the Devil, Father Gary hadn't spent that much time thinking about him either. He knew there was a big difference between talking about the concept of evil behavior and the “person” of evil. Sometimes good people did evil things, he was well aware; but whether or not they were caused directly by the Devil he couldn't say. In thinking back to the little he had learned about exorcism in the seminary, he remembered that the scriptural basis for demonic possession was fairly well established. Beyond that, his mind drew a blank. In all his time as a priest, he hadn't heard of a single case of demonic possession or of an exorcism being performed. Now, however, he found himself wondering about this ancient and arcane rite. If called upon, would he be willing to do something like that?
The notion of standing in a room and squaring off against the Devil didn't frighten him because he might see bizarre or offensive things. Before becoming a priest he had worked in the funeral business from the time he was fourteen. In fact, he was a licensed embalmer. Over the years he had seen some pretty horrible things, including disfigured bodies, some burned beyond recognition. He knew he had the stomach for just about anything. Helping people was one of the main reasons he had decided to become a priest. And wasn't that what Jesus was doing when he cast out evil spirits and healed the sick?
After submitting his name in place of Father Kevin's, Father Gary eventually got an answer about his appointment when he ran into his bishop at a convocation of priests. The bishop was delighted by the news that Father Gary was willing to assume the role. The bishop told him that in the past twenty-four years, only two investigations of possible demonic possession had been conducted in the whole diocese of San Jose. Smiling, the bishop added in his Irish brogue, ‘And I hope I won't have to be calling on you too much either.”
As the conversation wound down, Father Gary confessed his concern about getting some kind of formal training. Then the bishop filled him in about the exorcism course in Rome. “It should work out perfectly with your sabbatical,” he said.
UNLIKE IN THE AMERICAN CATHOLIC CHURCH, where exorcism is only talked about in hushed tones, exorcism is more accepted in Italy. In 1986, Pope John Paul II gave a series of talks in which he reminded the faithful not to forget about the dangers posed by the Devil, and that one of these was the real possibility of “bodily possession.” And as recently as September 14, 2005, Pope Benedict XVI hosted a large group of exorcists at the Vatican and encouraged them to continue their work “in the service of the Church.”
Today, Italy has gone through an exorcism boom. Not only are the numbers of officially appointed exorcists on the rise (reported to be somewhere between 350 and 400), but they also created their own guild-like association—the International Association of Exorcists—in 1992. In addition, thanks in large part to a recent spate of violent crimes linked to satanic cults, the police, in conjunction with the Church, created a special squad in 2006, called the Squadra anti sette (Anti-Sect Squad) dubbed SAS for short, tasked with investigating the phenomena.
Interest in exorcism had been steadily growing in Italy since 1998, when the exorcism Ritual, originally set down in the 1614 Roman Ritual, was finally updated, as per the requirements of the Second Vatican Council of 1962-1965, which called for each of the Church's rituals to be updated. (Incidentally, the ritual for exorcism was one of the last of these.) Journalists swarmed, looking for a story, and Father Gabriele Amorth was picture-perfect. The official exorcist of Rome and best-selling author, Father Amorth was already a well-known television personality in Italy and abroad. In books and interviews he condemned a wide range of things as being satanic—including the Harry Potter books—while drawing attention to what he claimed was the growing power that the Devil wielded in a secular world, which increasingly turned to the occult for answers.
Even worse, in Father Amorth's eyes, was the plight of the exorcist. In an interview published in the Catholic magazine 30 Days in 2001, he said, “Our brother priests who are charged with this delicate task are treated as though they are crazy, as fanatics. Generally speaking they are scarcely even tolerated by the bishops who have appointed them.” Time and time again he chastised bishops and priests alike for their ignorance. “For three centuries, the Latin Church has almost entirely abandoned the ministry of exorcism,�
�� he said. And while the problem might be bad in certain parts of Italy, he believed it to be downright appalling elsewhere. “There are countries in which there is not a single exorcist, for example Germany, Switzerland, Spain and Portugal.” Other countries, such as France, he claimed, had appointed exorcists who didn't even believe in exorcism.
On May 18, 2001, the Italian bishops’ conference, meeting in plenary assembly in the Vatican, issued an official statement: “We are witnessing a rebirth of divinations, fortunetelling, witchcraft and black magic, often combined with a superstitious use of religion. In certain environments, superstition and magic can coexist with scientific and technological progress, inasmuch as science and technology cannot give answers to the ultimate problems of life.”
According to the Associazione Comunità Papa Giovanni XXIII (Pope John XXIII Community Association), about 25 percent of Italians, or about 14 million, are involved in some way or another in the occult. In the south of Italy, for instance, certain groups still practice Tarantism, the belief that a person can be possessed by the bite of a spider, while “card-readers” congest the late-night cable channels hawking their prophetic wares and “lucky” amulets. This is not limited to Italy. In 1996, for instance, France's version of the IRS disclosed that during the previous year, 50,000 tax-paying citizens had declared their occupation as healer, medium, or other such practitioner in the occult-related trades. At the time, there were only 36,000 Catholic priests in the entire country.
However, the Church was most concerned about estimates (some would say exaggerated) that as many as 8,000 satanic sects with more than 600,000 members exist within Italy.
THE COURSE “Exorcism and Prayers of Liberation” was the brainchild of Dr. Giuseppe Ferrari, the national secretary of the Gruppo di Ricerca e Informazione Socio-Religiosa (Group for Research and Socio-Religous Information, or GRIS), a Catholic organization located in Bologna, Italy, that deals with cults and other new religions.
According to Dr. Ferrari, the idea came about in 2003 when he met with a priest from the diocese of Imola who told him that a growing number of his fellow clerics were being inundated by parishioners suffering from problems related to the occult: Either they wanted to quit and couldn't, or they in some way felt afflicted by demonic forces. In many cases, the priests felt so inadequate that they simply sent the people away.
In looking into the Church's approach to appointing and training exorcists, Dr. Ferrari saw how haphazard it was, with each exorcist left to his own devices. The solution was obvious: There needed to be some kind of university-level course that would train exorcists.
Dr. Ferrari led a group of various friends and colleagues, including a few theology professors, doctors, and an exorcist, who came up with a working syllabus. Students would be introduced to a wide variety of historical, theological, sociological, and medical topics, in order to go beyond the superficial and sensationalist aspect of exorcism. The aim was simple: Give priests the knowledge they need to discern when and where Satan is active. And give the few who would go on to become exorcists (such as Father Gary) the knowledge necessary to defeat him.
But where to teach it? It was then that Dr. Ferrari got in touch with the rector at the Ateneo Pontificio Regina Apostolorum, Father Paolo Scarafoni, and the rest of the pieces fell into place.
INAUGURATED IN 2000, the sleek and modern Regina Apostolorum campus, with its large glass windows and straight lines, is a huge contrast to the old-world ambiance of downtown Rome. The manicured pathways and sprawling grounds of the hillside campus could easily be confused for the headquarters of a software company in Father Gary's native Silicon Valley—if it weren't for the groups of priests walking to and fro in their black cassocks. Run by the conservative Legionaries of Christ, an organization that some have likened to Opus Dei, the university's curriculum is decidedly right of center, following the strict teachings of the Church hierarchy on a variety of issues, including stem cell research.
The course was being taught in a large state-of-the-art classroom. And if the modern exterior seemed an odd setting in which to study exorcism, the bright, futuristic interior felt even more bizarre. Indeed, lab-coated technicians would look more appropriate bustling about among the white-on-white walls and ceilings, large windows and skylights, than would Franciscans wearing brown robes, rope belts, and sandals.
Having opted to take a five-minute train ride from Stazione San Pietro rather than the arduous hour-long slog through morning traffic on the bus, Father Gary made his way through the grounds, admiring the neatness and precision of the place. Inside, his favorable impression only grew as he climbed the marble stairs inside the brightly lit interior. By the time he arrived for the first lecture, a large crowd had already gathered outside the doors to the classroom, chatting amicably and looking over a stack of literature advertising the school, which had been placed on a nearby table. It looked to him like a good turnout, though he was surprised at the presence of the news media. Several TV cameras had been set up in the back of the classroom and along the far wall.
The first session of the course, launched in the winter/spring of 2005, had created quite a stir. Captivated by the idea of a university-sponsored course on something as arcane as exorcism, the media had shown up in force, and the headlines didn't disappoint: “Exorcists go back to school.” “Priests get refresher course on exorcisms.” The publicity actually served the organizers well, getting the message out that the Church was no longer ashamed of exorcism.
As a result of this success, the school decided to run the course again in the fall/winter of 2005 and 2006, with only minor changes. All the professors from the original course would be back, but this time lessons would be available via video conference to satellite locations in Bologna, Modena, and a few other cities. For the last class, several prominent exorcists were going to be invited to share their experiences and answer questions. And this time, rather than being limited to priests, the course had been opened to professionals such as psychologists and doctors who might, for example, want to hear how to distinguish between mental illness and possession.
When Father Gary had heard about the course from his bishop, he got in touch with a few Legionaries in his diocese to ask if there was someone he could talk to about it. They in turn gave him the name of a priest who was on the faculty at the university. A few weeks before he left California, Father Gary called this priest and was able to learn a bit about what to expect.
Though the course was scheduled to run for four months, from October to February, the budding exorcists would be meeting only one day a week—on Thursday morning from 8:30 to 12:30—for a total of ten classes. Five sessions would run from mid-October to late November, and the second half of the course from January to February 9. Perhaps the most important thing he found out was that the course was going to be offered only in Italian. Disappointed at first, he'd been reassured that since priests would be coming from all over the world, the school would provide him with a translator.
Now, however, when he approached a course organizer and inquired about the translator, he was told in an almost offhand way that there wasn't going to be one. Not today or, for that matter, not next week either. How was he supposed to learn anything if he didn't understand the language?
Dejected, he wandered over to the rows of desks as they were quickly filling up. The room was divided into two sections, consisting of long tables, almost like the pews of a church. At the head of a classroom stood a raised dais—the long and low kind you see at conferences and symposiums—with a blank screen behind it. Next to the dais was a cross, and on the back wall, a neorealist painting of Christ crowned with thorns. The row of tinted windows running the entire length of one wall looked down onto a large circular patch of grass, in the center of which stood a solitary olive tree.
A few minutes later, the chatter in the room died down and a line of priests and officials filed in silently behind the dais. Led by the organizer, everyone stood and recited the Lord's Prayer and th
en a Hail Mary in Italian. It was time for the course to begin.
The first speaker was a bishop whom Father Gary didn't recognize, though many in the room clearly did. His name was Andrea Gemma, and, at age seventy-four, he was a well-regarded exorcist and one of very few bishops who actually performed exorcisms. He had also written a well-received book, lo, Vescovo Esorcista (I am a Bishop-Exorcist).
As Monsignor Gemma spoke, Father Gary tried to make sense of it, but couldn't. Here and there he'd catch a word that sounded familiar; but before he could figure out what it meant, the bishop had already moved on to something else. After a while he gave up, becoming absorbed instead by the spectacle of media personnel who roamed the aisles, shoving huge TV cameras into people's faces. At the break he was tracked down by some English-language reporters and spent the remainder of the morning fielding questions about exorcism, telling them candidly that he knew nothing about it.
Afterward, as he sat on the train heading back into Rome, he was disappointed. He hadn't learned anything, and the circuslike nature of the first day made him wonder if this whole course would be a waste of time. It was an inauspicious start to his training. He certainly hoped the second session would turn out better.
CHAPTER TWO
THE CALLING
In our Catholic understanding, priestly ordination is a radical, total reordering of a man in the eyes of God and his Church, bringing about an identity of ontological “reconfigurement” with Christ. This priestly identity is at the very core, the essence, of a man, affecting his being and, subsequently, his actions.
—Monsignor Timothy Dolan, Priests for the Third Millennium
Back in September, once he'd gotten over the initial shock of Rome, Father Gary had settled in quite easily to life at the NAC. Originally founded in 1859, the NAC moved to its present site atop the Gianicolo in 1953. The massive six-story building—complete with its own church, auditorium, media room, library, classrooms, and dining hall—seems like a mini-oasis in the heart of Rome, set back from the noisy streets by a large security wall and gatehouse. The complex is big enough to house three hundred seminarians, with adjacent gardens and a million-dollar view of Saint Peter's Basilica. It is no wonder that Father Gary spent a few days exploring the inside.