The Rite: The Making of a Modern Exorcist (14 page)

In the context of the different societies, the “goal-directed nature”of demonic possession can also change depending on the social cues that the victim receives. According to Spanos, the Catholic exorcism, in which the demon is addressed, “produces strongly cued demon self-enactments as a central component of the demonic role.” Another example would be the person screaming that his skin is burning when the exorcist sprinkles him with holy water.

The prayer of exorcism itself is admittedly a highly suggestive one, according to Father Gramolazzo. It's not hard to see the correlation between a priest wielding a crucifix while saying, “I command you, foul serpent, to depart!” and an accommodating person undulating in the manner of a serpent. Numerous studies have shown that through suggestive methods, people can be convinced that they have experienced events that never took place. In one such study conducted in Italy, people were made to believe falsely that they had witnessed a demonic possession or had somehow taken part in an exorcism.

Dr. Giuliana A. L. Mazzoni is a professor of psychology at the University of Hull in the United Kingdom who conducted a study in the late 1990s on how memory and suggestivity can play a role in shaping our beliefs, even when those beliefs are considered “implausible.” In the experiment, performed on university students, Dr. Mazzoni and her fellow researchers proposed a “three-step model” for developing false memories: “First, the event must be perceived as plausible. Second, individuals must acquire the autobiographical belief that it is likely to have happened to them. Third, individuals must interpret their thoughts and fantasies about the event as memories.” To do this, she and her team instructed people to read some articles about the reality of possession and how often it occurs. Then, they asked the subjects a series of questions about their fears, which the researchers purposefully “interpreted” as evidence that the subjects had witnessed a possession. Then, in the last session, participants rated the plausibility of witnessing a possession and stated whether they had seen one themselves.

“One of the crucial aspects of the manipulation was that the people had to believe that these experiences were happening in their own culture,” says Dr. Mazzoni. “If they read reports about shamans or cases of possession in the ancient world, they were less apt to believe in it. If you can interpret people's fears in terms of being due to a specific experience, then you can get people to believe that they actually had that experience. Twenty-five percent came out pretty convinced. The others also increased their beliefs.”

When it comes to the world of exorcism, it's not hard to see how the theory about suggestivity could also be applied to an exorcist, who might influence a person's opinions by, say, providing a book about exorcism for the person to read. As Dr. Beyerstein observes, “When people go to see an exorcist, there is a role to be played; and they assume the role or they don't agree to be part of it.” All of this points to the potential pitfalls of a priest, untrained in medicine and without the help of a trained professional, diagnosing whether or not a person's mental illness is caused by the presence of a demon.

While all these conditions could be mistaken for similar traits symptomatic of possession, they do not explain the more dramatic symptoms related to possession, such as the paranormal or “poltergeist-type” manifestations. After all, it's one thing to be praying over a person who screams or claims to see visions; it's quite another to watch her levitate four feet off the ground, or be able to identify hidden objects sealed in a bag. “These phenomena definitely create a big question mark,” says Dr. Mazzoni. “Perhaps in fifty years we'll be able to understand why these things happen, but at the moment we can't.”

CHAPTER TEN

CROSSING OVER

Hell hath no limits, nor is circumscrib'd In one selfe place: but where we are is hell. And where hell is there we must ever be. And to be short, when all the world dissolves, And every creature shall be purifi'd, All places shall be hell that are not heaven.

—
Christopher Marlowe
, Doctor Faustus

O
n Tuesday afternoon, Father Gary once again found himself in the small room next to Father Carmine's office. In a repeat of the previous night's events, the waiting room was overflowing with people, some even walking in off the street for impromptu blessings like those performed at the Scala Santa.
Jesus, Mary, and Joseph and good Saint Ann
, he thought,
where do all these people come from?
He knew from the course that belief in the occult was rampant in Italy, and perhaps here was the proof.

Again, he was surprised by the relative “normalcy” of the folks as they entered the tiny room, pausing to take his hand and sometimes even offering gracious smiles as he stumbled through his greeting in Italian. None of them “looked” possessed. Once again, physical reactions included coughing and yawning. A few people tried to push Father Carmine away, while still others cried when he touched them on the back of the neck or on their knees with his crucifix. A couple of times people would dry-heave or bring up some “froth” that they, or the person with them, would wipe away with a handkerchief.

Sometimes Father Carmine would pray the whole
Ritual
, sometimes only a simple blessing, and sometimes one of the exorcism prayers. Father Gary wondered how Father Carmine made this distinction. Were there levels of possession, or a set of criteria? Then there was his habit of tapping people on the forehead with his index finger at the end of each exorcism. Sometimes he would also push his finger into their foreheads or pat their foreheads a few times with his palm as if giving them a high-five. In each case, they would open their eyes and take a few deep breaths to collect themselves, and the exorcism would be over. Was this a signal of some kind?

After some exorcisms, the person would break down, sobbing. One woman in her sixties turned to Father Gary with a look as if to say, “It's not my fault.” After they'd seen around five people and were taking a quick break, Father Carmine explained, “They feel somehow they brought this upon themselves. They are deeply deeply ashamed.”

At the Casa later that night, Father Gary reflected on what he'd seen. In that cramped little room out at San Lorenzo, nothing had gone according to script. He wondered why Father Daniel seemed to be seeing more dramatic cases at the Scala Santa. Just recently the Franciscan had told him about a woman who vomited seven black two-inch-long nails—six of which had dissolved into a dark liquid but the seventh he kept. Father Gary had also expected to see longer, more drawn-out exorcisms, not fifteen minutes of a person sitting in a chair yawning. Did they send the harder cases to certain exorcists?

Father Carmine had told him to return the following afternoon, and he hoped to get answers to a few questions then.

B
Y THE TIME HE ARRIVED
at San Lorenzo, as usual a small crowd had gathered outside the door. All the faces were new, however, and an image of a never-ending stream of people popped into his mind. A few turned to acknowledge him with a nod, but most kept to themselves. Nobody talked. Father Gary noticed a pair of women wearing the navy blue habits of religious sisters, with matching down jackets. One was young, perhaps in her mid-twenties, with short curly black hair and hard, tense features (her name would later be revealed as Sister Janica). Her kind-faced companion was in her late fifties. The older sister gave him a polite smile, but Sister Janica refused to look at him. There was something about her that he couldn't put his finger on—in some deep way she seemed very troubled.

The group waited patiently for another ten minutes until Father Carmine opened the door at around 3:40, looking groggy, having just awakened from his afternoon
riposo.

As everyone filed in, Father Gary went into the office.
“Ciao, Father Carmine, come stai?”
How are you?

“Bene,”
Father Carmine answered, but he seemed in a dark mood.

Realizing the toll of day-in-and-day-out work like this, Father Gary pulled out his carefully folded purple stole and draped it around his neck. He entered the now-familiar room, almost as if he were punching a time clock on the factory floor.

A few minutes later Father Carmine entered, followed by the two nuns. As she had outside, the older woman smiled at Father Gary when he introduced himself, while Sister Janica averted her gaze and sat down in the chair, not even bothering to take his hand.

Father Carmine, who usually chatted for a second or two with the person before beginning the
Ritual
, wasted no time. Picking up the squeeze bottle filled with holy water, he blessed both women. The older woman made the sign of the cross, while Sister Janica grimaced, clenching her eyes tightly as the drops of water splashed over her head. So far, nobody had reacted so strongly to the holy water.

As he had done with the others, Father Carmine put his hand on top of the nun's head. He then invoked the protection of Saint Michael the Archangel, revered by Christians as the leader of God's army, which was something new. Then, without so much as a pause, he jumped right into the
Ritual.

“Deus, humani generis conditor atque defénsor, réspice super huncfà-mulum tuam, quam ad tuam imàginemformàsti et ad tux. vocas glories, consortium”
[God, creator and defender of the human race, look down on this your servant, whom you formed in your own image and now call to be a partaker in your glory], he said, beginning the deprecatory prayer.
“Vetus adversàrius earn dire torquet, acri 6pprim.it vi, scevo terróre conturbat. Mitte super earn Spiritum Sanctum tuum, qui earn in lucta confirmet, in tribulatióne supplicàre dóceat et poténti sua protectióne mú-niat.”
[The old adversary twists her torturously oppresses her with violent force, and disturbs her with savage terror. Send upon her your Holy Spirit, who strengthens her in the struggle, who teaches her to pray in tribulation, and who fortifies her with his powerful protection.]

Within a minute, Sister Janica began to whine and shake her head. She halfheartedly tried to push Father Carmine's hand away.

To Father Gary, it seemed as if Father Carmine's hand had suddenly been plugged into an electric socket and a current was shooting through it, animating the nun.

“Exàudi, sànete Pater, gémitum supplicàntis Ecclésice: ne siveris filiam tuam a patre mendàcii possidéri; fàmulam, quam Christus suo sanguine red.im.it, diaboli captivitàte detinéri; templum Spiritus tux ab immúndo inhabitari spiritu.”
[Hear, Holy Father, the groanings of your supplicant Church: do not suffer your daughter to be possessed by the father of lies; do not suffer your servant, whom Christ by his blood has redeemed, to be detained in captivity of the devil; do not suffer this temple of your Spirit to be inhabited by this unclean spirit.]

Sister Janica began banging the back of her head against the wall, gently at first but then with increasing intensity, until the picture of Christ hanging on the hook above her head began to rattle. Father Gary edged forward on his seat, worrying that she might hurt herself. Her companion, however, slipped an arm behind Sister Janica's head to protect it and a struggle ensued. Father Gary wondered whether he might have to intervene, but for some reason remained riveted to his chair, looking between his copy of the
Ritual
and the strange rocking figure. He prayed silently that God would come to her aid.

As Father Carmine continued with the prayers, a low guttural growl began to emanate from Sister Janica. Father Gary studied her, trying to determine its source. The sound seemed to be coming from deep inside her, from her stomach. It sounded like the noise a dog makes when it's getting ready to bite someone. From his reading he did know that it was possible for a demon to attack an exorcist during the
Ritual.
In one such instance a demonized person had ripped a bedspring from a bed and stabbed the exorcist with it. He had no idea what he would do if something violent like that occurred.

“Exàudi, Deus, humànce salútL amàtor, oratiónem Apostolórum tuórum Petri et Pauli et omnium Sanctorum, qui tua grátia victóres extitérunt Maligni,”
Father Carmine intoned. [Hear, God, lover of human salvation, the prayer of your Apostles Peter and Paul and of all the saints, who by your grace emerged as victors over the Evil One.]

All at once, Sister Janica lashed out at Father Carmine, trying to knock his hand off her. As she struggled, her companion tried her best to keep Sister Janica from hitting Father Carmine.

“No, no, NO!” Sister Janica shouted, followed by an ear-piercing
“Basta!”

Father Gary's eyes were now fixed on the nun, whose eyes remained tightly clenched. Again he wondered whether he might have to jump in and restrain her. If things got worse, he didn't think that Father Carmine and the companion could do enough to stop her.

“Libera hanc fàmulam tuam ab omni aliena potestàte et incólumen custódi ut tranquillas devotióni restituía, te coràe diligat et opéríbus desérviat, te glorificet làudibus et magnificent vita.”
[Free this your servant, from every foreign power and keep her safe, so that restored to peaceful devotion, she may love you with her heart and may serve you zealously with her works, may glorify you with praises and may magnify you with her life.]

Sister Janica let out a low, torturous moan. It didn't sound human.

Father Gary studied her again, aware that a change had come over her. What was it? He couldn't put his finger on it. It didn't seem like she was there anymore.

Without pause, Father Carmine moved on to the imperative formula.
“Adiúro te, Satan, kostis humanas salútis: agnósce institiam et bonitàtem Dei Patris, qui supérbiam et invidiam tuam iusto indicio damnàvit,”
he said, accentuating the word
Adiúro.
[I adjure you, Satan, enemy of human salvation: know the justice and goodness of God the Father, who damns your pride and envy with His just judgment.]

Once again Sister Janica screamed, an otherworldly tone that unnerved Father Gary. Then he heard it, a deep rasping guttural sound that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. It was the “voice.”

“Shut up, you stupid priest!” The furious voice screamed in Italian at Father Carmine. “You dirty sack of shit!” followed by more howling and groaning. Sister Janica was breathing heavily now, her face contorted into a mask of rage.

Father Carmine paid no attention to this tirade; in fact, it didn't seem to faze him at all.
“Adiúro te, Satan, princeps huius mundi: agnosce poténtiam et virtútem Iesu Christi, qui te in deserto vicit, in korto superàvit, spoliàvit in cruce.”
[I adjure you, Satan, prince of this world, know the power and strength of Jesus Christ, who defeated you in the desert, overcame you in the garden, vanquished you on the cross.]

Sister Janica screamed again. Her head shook violently.
“Zitto!”
the gruff voice shouted over and over, trying to drown out Father Carmine. “Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! You have no power over meeeeeeeee!” A high-pitched wail was immediately followed by a deep bass groan. Father Gary had never heard such range in a human voice. Beyond the tone, there was also a certain quality to it: It seemed infused with a kind of superiority while at the same time caged—like a trapped animal striking out.

“Adiúro te, Satan, decéptor humàni generis: agnosce Spiritum veritàtis et grátia?, qui tuas repéllit insidias tuàque confúndit mendàcia: exi ab hoc plàsmate Dei.”
[I adjure you, Satan, deceiver of the human race, know the Spirit of truth and of grace, who drives off your snares and confounds your lies, depart from this creature of God.]