by Matt Baglio
EVEN BEFORE MEETING WITH HIS BISHOP, Father Gary had been thinking about the day when he would have to perform an exorcism. He already knew—based on his own experience with depression— that he wanted to establish a measured, calm approach that could help put people at ease and create the right kind of environment for healing. He had been turned off by some of the more “fundamentalist” books he had read attributing just about every problem under the sun—doubt, fear, alcoholism, greed—to a demon. He found that “theologically troubling.” As C. S. Lewis so famously said in The Screwtape Letters, “There are two equal and opposite errors into which our race can fall about the devils. One is to disbelieve in their existence. The other is to believe, and to feel an excessive and unhealthy interest in them.”
For this reason, he planned on starting out small. The first thing he'd probably do would be to ask a series of questions: Do you go to mass? Do you worship or pray? When was the last time you went to confession? If the answers were no, he would most likely get the sufferer to start going back to church and the sacraments before he would perform an exorcism. Of course, he would still offer a simple blessing.
But would it be that easy to convince people to follow this cautious approach?
He knew from his experiences at Saint Nicholas, where some of his techno-conscious former parishioners had to have the latest piece of gadgetry that it wasn't going to be easy to ask people to slow down and invest their time in something that may not show immediate results. “We are a culture of instant gratification,” he would later say, voicing a criticism that virtually every exorcist shares.
Months later, Father Vince would have a similar experience when he tried to get a woman who came to see him to return to mass. “It is almost like people want to believe in the extreme,” says Father Vince. “I am happy to pray with people; but if I tell them that they need to start going back to the Church and taking advantage of the sacraments, they look at me like I am crazy for actually suggesting that they practice their faith. And I know if I told them to go out and do the extreme, ‘Go stand on your lawn and swing a dead chicken around your head and you will be fine,’ they would do that. But just going to mass or confession—they think that is kind of mundane.”
There would be other challenges as well, some of them uniquely American. Whereas Italy is basically a monocultural (predominantly Catholic) society America is anything but. In Father Gary's estimate, in the diocese of San Jose alone, more than one hundred different languages are spoken. There is a sizable Vietnamese community in town, as well as a large Hispanic population. He would have to know a little about the cultural mores of the various immigrant groups (as well as their traditions) if he was going to become an effective exorcist.
Father Gary didn't pretend to have all the answers. He hoped to be able to share information and get advice from some of the other exorcists in the United States who might have more experience. He had talked to Father Vince as well as to an exorcist he knew in Nebraska about the need to begin networking. The problem was the paucity of exorcists. Father Gary had heard the number was somewhere around fourteen officially appointed exorcists in the entire United States. In addition, as he'd shared with his bishop, some of these exorcists had received no formal training beyond being handed the Ritual. Just trying to work out a common approach would present a challenge, never mind battling a demon.
AT THE BEGINNING OF LENT, Father Gary began participating in mass each morning at one of the old titular houses, original house churches used by early Christians when nascent Christianity was still outlawed. Each morning he would get up around 5:30 and set out from the Casa along with about sixty other priests to walk to the one designated for that day of Lent. Typically, the priests would take turns saying mass at the different churches. When it was Father Gary's turn, he said mass in San Martino ai Monti, a tiny church where it was rumored that the Nicene Creed had been read aloud for the first time. The experience offered him a very real reminder of the traditions of the Church and once again helped him to reconnect to the roots of his faith.
During this time he also continued witnessing exorcisms three days a week out at San Lorenzo, along with Father Vince. Almost all the people were repeat cases, and by now Father Gary was an old hand and knew what to expect, though there were still a few surprises. During one exorcism, a woman seemed to come out of the trance on her own and say in a normal voice, “Okay, I'm fine. You can stop praying now.” Father Carmine studied her carefully and then threw some holy water onto her, causing the demon to explode with rage.
After the sessions, Father Gary and Father Vince continued to compare notes over a coffee. Father Gary was still frustrated that there wasn't much time to ask questions. The language barrier persisted as well, even for Father Carmine. After one evening of exorcisms, Father Gary suggested that the three of them schedule an hour to sit down and talk and have the English-speaking layman he'd met at dinner translate for them.
A few weeks after meeting with his bishop, Father Gary was asked to give a talk to a group of priests in the continuing education program whom Father Vince had regaled with stories from San Lorenzo. Worried that they might one day have to face off against a demon themselves, they asked Father Gary if he'd be willing to share his knowledge as well.
The talk took place in the common room of the NAC, used by the seminarians as a sort of TV and game room that included a large collection of travel guides. About sixteen priests, most in their mid-fifties, showed up for the talk. Perhaps not surprisingly, all had at least one story to tell, either about a candle that mysteriously blew out while they were giving a blessing in a windowless room, or having run-ins with parishioners who claimed to be cursed. One priest from Amityville, New York, even described an order of nuns in the diocese that he said had begun practicing Wicca.
Father Gary was his usual candid self, tucking his Roman collar into his front shirt pocket and giving the priests his standard stump speech on the topic: Take the person seriously, ask questions, don't rule out the possibility of demonic possession but don't rush to judgment, and always be conscious that the person is suffering deeply. “Evil takes many forms, and I think becoming more aware of it through our own spiritual lives will make us better priests. If we want to be able to guide someone else, we have to be aware of evil while not being paranoid about it. But I think if we are oblivious to it, or our own prayer life doesn't cause us to enter into the deeper mystery of it, then I don't think we are serving our people well.”
When the talk was over, everyone clapped.
Afterward, Father Gary and a friend ate at a noisy, packed pizzeria located just off Corso Vittorio Emanuele II. He was happy with how the talk went, but in truth he had something else on his mind. In a little over two weeks, it would be time for him to return to California.
Sitting in the packed pizzeria, with a huge spillover crowd mingling in the street outside, reminded him how much he enjoyed the energy of Rome. And now that his sabbatical was coming to an end, he realized how much he would miss it.
A FEW DAYS LATER, Father Kevin Joyce flew out from San Francisco, and Father Gary went out to the airport to meet him. The two had a great deal to discuss. Father Kevin had been sent a few cases by the bishop during Father Gary's absence and was eager to get Father Gary's opinion. One woman in her early thirties claimed to have balls of energy fly out of her. At times her fiance didn't even recognize her. A Hispanic man claimed to hear demonic voices and even see demons from time to time. More than a few times Father Kevin had been called out to bless parishioners’ houses.
As Father Kevin listened to what Father Gary had to say about these cases, both became so engrossed that they got on the wrong train and found themselves heading into the countryside rather than toward the center of town.
Father Kevin could see right away how passionate and excited Father Gary was about all that he had learned. Impressed with the new confidence and sense of spiritual growth that he observed in his old friend, he described Father Gary
as a “changed man,” and observed, “I think with this training you will be a real asset to the diocese.”
“I hope,” Father Gary responded.
Because Father Carmine was out of town for a few days and thus not available to talk with them, Father Gary instead contacted Father Daniel (who was so busy that he could be reached only between nine and ten in the evening) and asked whether he'd come over to the Casa to answer a few questions. The three sat in the break room for two hours talking about exorcism. Father Gary had already discussed many of the topics with the Franciscan, such as the best way to go about blessing houses; but other topics were new, such as how to recognize the presence of a curse, and about the efficacy of using blessed oil, water, and salt, specifically having the possessed person cook with them. In certain cases, Father Daniel even asked people to put a few drops of holy water into the washing machine to purify their clothes, which he said helped.
Father Daniel also discussed practical issues specific to the United States. For example, he suggested that before Father Gary performed an exorcism on anybody, he might want to draft a consent form for everyone to sign. Father Daniel offered another piece of advice that resonated: “Never bless a home without making sure the whole family is present. It's a great opportunity to perform a little catechesis, and that way you can also see if the problem isn't related to the house but instead to the family.”
When they were finished, the two agreed to stay in touch. Father Gary thanked the Franciscan and promised to let him know what happened with his ministry when he got back to the States.
ON THE THURSDAY BEFORE HOLY WEEK, Father Gary and Father Vince went out to San Lorenzo for the last time. Father Carmine had a light load that day and they saw only a couple of people until five that afternoon, when the three sat down in Father Carmine's office and talked for about an hour and a half. Father Carmine had finally arranged for the English-speaking layman at San Lorenzo to act as a translator, so Father Gary had no trouble getting answers to all his questions, such as why Father Carmine put holy water in the person's ears, or where the demon went when it wasn't tormenting the person. There were also unexpected moments of levity. Since the Ritual mentions that the exorcist should fast, Father Gary wanted to know whether Father Carmine did this. Once the question had been translated, Father Carmine responded by laughing and patting his protruding belly. “I don't fast from food,” he said, smiling. But then he went on to tell Father Gary that he did fast from other things, such as TV and alcohol, and stated, “I have to deal with many humiliations. This is not an easy ministry.” Apparently he felt these humiliations were a form of “fasting” as well.
Near the end of the discussion, Father Carmine turned to Father Gary and said, “It's too bad you have to go home now.”
Father Gary thanked Father Carmine for being such a kind and generous teacher, saying it would not have been possible to have even contemplated performing the ministry without his invaluable training.
As he and Father Vince were getting ready to go, Father Carmine imparted one final piece of advice: “During the prayers of exorcism, remember that you are never addressing the person in front of you; you are always invoking the power of God. If you start focusing on this presence of evil in front of you as if your own self is dealing with it, you will get yourself into trouble, because that is not what you are doing; it is what God is doing through you.”
As a token of his appreciation, Father Gary gave the Capuchin a silver-plated image of Padre Pio and thanked him again.
With that, as Father Gary and Father Carmine shook hands, the Capuchin patted him on the back in a brotherly way. “Fai il bravo,” he said just before Father Gary left. Be good.
IN THE DAYS FOLLOWING HIS VISIT with Father Carmine, as he organized his things for his return trip to the States, Father Gary reflected on his time in Rome. Not only had his training opened up his eyes; it also changed the way he approached his priestly ministry. In many ways he felt like Father Daniel, who said that now that he knew the reality of the spirit world, he felt more responsibility to do something to help people. To go back now to the way he was before would be like “turning my back on God.”
AT THE START OF APRIL, the city slowly shifted gears as the bun-dled-up days of winter were replaced by the leafy passeggiate of spring. Father Gary had really been looking forward to celebrating Easter in Rome. He appreciated the holiday more so than the overly commercialized Christmas. For him, Easter was always about baptism and perhaps an apt time to start a new chapter in his priestly ministry. Father Kevin, who had been in Assisi on a retreat for a few days, returned in time for the two to participate together in the Triduum—the three-day period of Holy Thursday (the day of the Last Supper), Good Friday (the day Christ was crucified), and Holy Saturday (the night of the Great Paschal Vigil). On Thursday night Father Gary went to the mass of the Lord's Supper and afterward out to dinner with Father Kevin. On Good Friday, he went to the Vatican for a three-hour service and, in a coincidence, ran into Father Carmine, which allowed him another opportunity to say grazie. On Holy Saturday night he went up to the NAC for the Easter Vigil, which he found “glorious” and deeply spiritual. It also presented him with a chance to say good-bye to many of the seminarians and priests, some of whom he had grown close to and with whom he intended to maintain friendships.
When he stopped and thought about it, he had never imagined that his sabbatical would have turned out this way. It had been an incredibly enriching experience. When he'd told some of the seminarians that he was heading home, a few had said how much they wished they could go home, too. “Oh no you don't.” He shook his head. “I have had ten months without stress, and now I have to go home to a set of unknowns.”
Beyond a new parish, perhaps the biggest of these unknowns was about his own abilities as an exorcist. That demons existed he didn't doubt, but would they respond to him the way that they had responded to Father Carmine? Would the prayers of exorcism work for him? In addition, he worried about the prospect of having to confront a demon on his own. During the exorcisms that he'd witnessed, most of the demons had directed their attention at Father Carmine, and as an observer he had remained relatively isolated from that exchange. But as an exorcist, he would now have to bear the brunt of it himself. Would he be able to do that? There would be no way of knowing until he actually performed an exorcism himself.
When the vigil was over, it was past midnight and still the streets were packed. Alone now, he walked back to the Casa, and even though it was late he felt completely safe. Most of the restaurants and bars were still full, some with people just sitting down. Passing in front of the Pantheon, he followed the crowds heading down Via dei Pastini and toward Via del Corso, comforted by the fact that he knew his way around the city without a map—certainly a far cry from his first four days at the NAC when he'd been anxious about going out on his own. The nights had warmed up considerably over the past few weeks, making it easier for him to take his time. A few people he passed flashed him a polite smile, but most ignored him. To them he was just another part of the backdrop—a black-clad figure on his way to one of the many churches in Rome.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
THE EXORCIST
Once when I was a young man, trees were trees, mountains were mountains and rivers were rivers. When I grew up, trees were no longer trees, mountains were no longer mountains and rivers were no longer rivers. But when I became old, trees once again became trees, mountains became mountains and rivers became rivers.
—Zen poem
Father Gary began the morning as he always did, by reading the obituaries. It was a habit he'd picked up from his days in the funeral business. Back then, of course, he'd checked the listings for professional reasons—noting which funeral homes were handling the services. Now he did so to see if he recognized any names. He'd lived his whole life inside the confines of the South Bay and Silicon Valley, and during that time he'd gotten to know the community as only a parish priest can, from the minutiae t
o the milestones—baptisms, weddings, and yes, funerals. Spared the grief of recognizing anyone on that particular day, he moved on to the sports pages, devouring both the San-Jose Mercury News and the San Francisco Chronicle.
After finishing his morning routine, Father Gary walked to the parish offices. As always, there was much to do and never enough time. As he passed the church—which had nearly triple the capacity of his former parish, Saint Nicholas—and the school (K-8), his mind wandered back to Rome. There was a square patch of asphalt with some trees that served as the drop-off area for the kids; perhaps for no other reason than its shape, he'd dubbed it the “piazza.”
His first order of business had been to get to know the staff and let them know just how involved he intended to be in the running of the parish. One thing Father Gary had yet to discuss with them was exorcism. At some point he planned to sit down with Father Kevin and go over the specifics of his exorcism team, but for the moment he figured there would be plenty of time before he had to hash it out. Later that morning, however, while he was chatting with the parish administrator in the conference room, his secretary tentatively knocked. Unsure, she paused for a second as if weighing each word carefully. “There is a couple here for an exorcism.”
Father Gary froze. I don't believe this—already! he thought, then advised her calmly, “Tell them to wait in the front room. I'll be down when I finish up here.” After his secretary left, he turned to the parish coordinator, who was eyeing him expectantly. “There are some things I'm going to have to clear up with you. I can't go into it now, but we'll talk later.” Wrapping up the meeting, Father Gary pulled himself away and headed downstairs.
The couple was waiting in a small room just off the entrance to the parish office. As he entered the room, they stood up from the couch and he shook their hands. Their ages were hard to guess but he thought perhaps early thirties. The woman, Stephanie, had a very plain appearance and kept her eyes down, while the man, Chris, did most of the talking. As they began to tell their story, Father Gary recognized their case as one that Father Kevin had mentioned in Rome. In fact, the couple had seen Father Kevin but weren't happy with how things were progressing. “I need an exorcism,” Stephanie announced.