Trending: The Obsession With 'Demons'

Let me first preface this by saying I do not put the word demons in the title of this post in quotes because I don't believe in them. Quite the contrary. I know they exist, that they hate God and they hate us because we are His creation. Like most of us who are trying to make it to Heaven one day, I have suffered spiritual attack at the hands of the Enemy (read compilation with imbedded links here). 

Let me also preface this post by saying as a person who has been diagnosed with a mental illness, I am sensitive to the fact that in my life and in the lives of others who suffer under such crosses, one needs to be especially discerning with being able to differentiate ordinary temptations and even obsessions from the defects of the mind wounded by mental illness. Not everything is purely psychological, but nor is everything ill-fated event initiated by a henchman of Satan. Over the past twenty years of treatment and ordinary spiritual practice (Mass attendance, rosary, Confession, etc), I have largely learned to distinguish what comes from my own mind and what comes from outside of it.

This is not always easy. In my past life, my mental illness contributed to sinful behavior, which in turn took me outside of the protection of divine grace (mortal sin), which in turn probably made me more susceptible to diabolical influence. There have also been times when I was fortified in faith and prayer and was still besieged by thoughts and temptations that went beyond melancholic ruminating and clearly came from "outside the self." 

For one thing, the Diagnostic Statistical Manual (DSM) specifies that one must experience symptoms of depression for at least two weeks for a diagnosis to be given. In my case, as least, I have lived through months of depression (as well as shorter but prolonged periods of mania) which "checked all the boxes." However, during times in which my mind was being leveraged against me by what I felt were forces foreign to it (I'm not talking about schizo-affective thoughts, but normal diabolic temptation), it was more akin to a sudden thunderstorm that came out of nowhere--fierce and violent, but dispelled rather quickly with intercessory and personal prayer. Depression tends to roll in slowly like a settling fog, and is not always dispelled so quickly, but is usually helped by medication and therapy like CBT. And clinical depression is NOT a "dark night of the soul" (which 99% of us non-mystics will probably never experience viz-a-viz St. John of the Cross)

I write all this as a precursor because I have noticed a trend in the past couple years of a kind of over-emphasis on the work of demons. You can't open up Catholic media or YouTube today without hearing an exorcist talk about them (obviously, because that is their line of work); but the fact that we are seeing movies about Exorcists and possession, weekly "Exorcist Diary" columns, and podcasts with exorcists seems like a kind of pendulum swing. For years, modernist theologians have been downplaying and poo-pooing the reality of evil and the demonic as literal forces in the world; now we seem to have gone the opposite extreme: demons are everywhere, and we need to bring these stories to light.

I don't think is a bad thing, per se. But it does make me pause and wonder why these topics on the demonic are generating so much interest. Is it a chicken-and-egg scenario that such content is being produced because there is an unmet need to bring it to light? Or is it because talk about demons are the content du jour. After all, the analytics don't lie, and if "GOOGLE:DEMONS" is getting mad hits, than why not capitalize on the interest?

Columnist John Clark made an interesting observation about this phenomenon which I stumbled upon tonight in his NC Register article:

"...As far as I know, no movie has ever been made — nor has any popular book been written — about the minor exorcism that occurs before baptism. Why not? If it is exorcism itself that attracts our interest, why aren’t more Catholics routinely attending baptisms?"

Which brings me to an interesting observation from my armchair, which is this: during my time on social media. the Facebook posts that generated the most "buzz" were not the quote-unquote "boring" posts on prayer, the sacraments, theology, instances of charity, etc. They were the spiritually salacious ones posted to stir controversy, incite a misguided zeal or "rouse the troops" (See my post Fifty Shades of Rage). These were the posts with 200+ comments, the ones that made bored Catholics say "Oooo, I wonder what's going on here?" and then add to the pile. 

These back-and-forth exchanges were rarely spiritually edifying, stoked unnecessary curiosity, encouraged juvenile sound-offs, incited pride and vanity and attention-seeking, and contributed to wasted time and energy that would have been better spent in the, yes, boring work of prayer or spiritual reading. I should know, because I often posted and took part in such things myself. It's one of the reasons why I eventually cut the cord with my engagement on social media: I didn't like the wolf I was feeding, in myself first and foremost, but also what I was contributing in the world of online Catholic culture.

When I hear someone say, "my AV equipment wasn't working because DEMON" or "I got a flat tire because...DEMON!", I don't discount that Satan can disrupt our lives and attempt to derail the good in these ways. Like I said, I've had times when both grace was apparent and undeniable (though from a skeptic's perspective, could have just been a matter of luck or timing), as well as instances of diabolic interference.  

But I also don't want to give the Devil more than his due. I like what Saint John of the Cross reassuringly says here:

"When the soul is clothed in faith the devil is ignorant of how to hinder it, neither is he successful in his efforts, for faith gives the soul strong protection against the devil, who is the mightiest and most astute enemy."

We don't spend a lot of time here in our household thinking or talking about demons. Especially for children, it is not always good to give undue emphasis to these things, given their impressionable imaginations and the potential susceptibility towards scruples. Yes, we have blessed salt and Epiphany water handy, and I have my copy of Deliverance Prayers for the Laity at my prayer station, and have found it effective in more than one instance with both myself and my children. But that was not because of the presence of demons, but the power of faith and grace. And remember--sacramentals are activated by faith. When our Lord couldn't work miracles in his hometown, it was due to a lack of faith. 

Faith, like a marriage, is grace...but it is also hard work. You have to tie yourself to the mast sometimes and just hold on in the dark night, not succumbing to the temptations to flee or violate your vows or throw in the towel. The ordinary things of marriage--the cleaning up after yourself, the being faithful, the deferring your preferences for your spouses' sake--these are the things that go unnoticed and uncommented on, which don't generate the viral hits but which constitute the daily instances of dying to self: the brick-by-brick foundation which is built up over time. 

When your faith is fortified because it has not been built on the whims of sand and curiosity or trends, you shouldn't fear the devil because, as St. John of the Cross says, faith gives strong protection against the devil. This is true even when the devil is the mightiest and most astute enemy and you are....well, you. That is because we do not rest on our own power, but in the mantle of the Theotokis and sanctifying grace which comes from God, who has the Devil on a leash. 

Daily prayer, daily rosary, regular confession, reading of holy scripture, reception of the Eucharist...these are the "boring basics" we should be concentrating on building brick-by-brick into the foundation of our faith lives. It's not glamorous. It's not podcast worthy. It doesn't get the hits. But it doesn't mean we can't learn about how to engage in battle with the Enemy. Read The Spiritual Combat (Dom Scupoli), or Discernment of Spirits (St. Ignatius) for starters. Read the lives of the saints who have the scars and have come out on the other side. 

To the degree an interview with an exorcists aids one's building brick-by-brick the foundation of faith, then okay. But when it becomes simply an opportunity for content creation, or a 2nd-party revenue stream riding the coattails of cultural curiosity, then maybe that focus would be better spent getting "back to basics." 

The Burden of Oppression, The Deceptiveness of Despair

 When I experienced my first major depression in my early twenties, nothing--and I mean nothing--really helped me. Not prayer, not scripture, not words of encouragement. There were only two dim lights that kept me floating on the surface of the water of the living: planting seeds and watching them grow in a little window greenhouse from Home Depot that a friend bought for me; and reading from Andrew Solomon's The Noonday Demon: An Atlas of Depression. Nothing made sense those days--but that book, and growing those little seeds, made sense and was within my diminished capacity to function, respectively.  

Solomon's book was an admirable weaving of painstaking research, clinical denseness, and raw personal experience. Nothing makes sense because depression is a scrambling of the airwaves, the way you would catch a word here and there but unable to string together a cohesive sense of meaning from the narrative. 

In one section of the book, the author recounts his desire for passive death (admitting that he lacked the resolve for a deliberate suicide attempt) was so strong at one point that he sought out anonymous homosexual encounters in an attempt to infect himself with HIV. Not that that was my cup of tea, but at the time the thwarted logic made complete sense to me, and a part of me nodded in admiration at this creative 'solution' to the problem of a mental suffering that can be so intense that if one hasn't been through it, such an objectionable action would make no sense. If you have experienced that despair, though, the question is not so much "Why?" but "Well, why not?"

The seedlings were another flicker of hope for me. My friend J (recounted in The Day That Cost Me My Friend) drove me to Hope Depot and helped me pick out the little greenhouse with the little prepackaged potting soil pods. I couldn't control anything in my life, or care for anything or anyone, but I could take care of those little seeds in the upstairs bedroom. It gave me a shred of hope that I, too, might not shrivel and die, but come alive again someday. Some day. 

These early years when my illness was in its virgin bloom were the days when it took grit, spit, and grinding the enamel from your teeth just to stay alive. Because there's no good reason that you can see, so you have to trust others who tell you that truth, like your family and close friends, and the Church. The fight against your own mind--who has become a shadowy sparring opponent--is a difficult one, because you have to outwit it, correct the faulty logic, rather than strap some TnT to it. For those who don't, can't, or won't, the specter of madness writs large. 

Today, through medication, healthier habits, and remaining in a state of grace, the good Lord has largely nullified these wild fluctuations in mood, temptations to destruction, and self-abusing tendencies. He has quieted my mind and lifted my spirit so that I can serve Him in spirit and truth. The blips are still there, but largely leveled out which allow me to function as a more or less normal human being.

When a tempest does stir up the dust, however--and sometimes severely so--I am largely caught of guard. Sometimes there is no rhyme or reason, and sometimes it may be that I have laid my guard down, left a hole unguarded in my spiritual fence. Sometimes, as of lately though, when I have spending more time with the Lord in prayer and adoration, the tempest blows in from the outside. It's my first thought to suspect mental illness, though, and sometimes rightfully so. Any good exorcist would do the same, to rule out the psychological. 

Over the years I have gotten slightly more adept at differentiating the things of the mind and the things of the spirit, when they are, in fact, distinct. I have noticed that historically, at least for myself, depression comes on slow and steady, like a front, that stays for weeks or months at a time, like a wool blanket that won't dry out after being submerged. Mania can creep up on you, but thankfully there are pretty clear diagnostic criteria to identify it. Sometimes, the malaise doesn't fit a psychological mold, which can be confusing, because the symptoms are similar. 

When I consider the spiritual (rather than the strictly psychological) elements at play, however, things start to come into focus a little more clearly, make more sense. I often have to rely on some of my more spiritual trusted friends to help diagnose such problems in lieu of a spiritual director (which I don't currently have), and the writings of the saints. St. John of the Cross said that the Devil is mightiest and most astute enemy, his wiles more baffling than those of the world and the flesh; he is "the hardest to understand" and no human power can be compared to him. (Spiritual Canticle, 431)

I will share that this is not the first time this has happened. As I wrote in Bring Me My Weapon, the temptations to suicide have come from the outside-in, rather than the inside-out, in brief but strong temptest of spiritual oppression that rendered me materially impotent. Days before undertaking spiritual combat manifest in "Night At The Masoleum", I was afflicted with a stomach pain so acute and unexplainable I thought I was having a burst appendix and went to a GI doctor who could find nothing wrong (I later read that such physical afflictions in this part of the body have been attributed to the devil oppressing various saints throughout history). Right before the night I set out, the pain disappeared as quickly as it had come.

I write this because this malaise can be hard to make sense of, and you can't talk about it with just anyone either, esp when the temptations (again, which seem to come from outside of the self) to things like suicide would cause a lot of--well, complications, esp among friends who feel it would be their responsibility once told to call the police, EMT, etc. So, you keep it in and try to grit through, but that often makes it worse. 

But like I mentioned above with the book and the seeds--worldly things that helped when nothing else would for a psychological ailment--spiritual issues (if they are truly spiritual, and not psychological) are aided by spiritual remedies. So, things like oppression is countered by personal and collective prayer, confession, fasting, reception of the sacraments, Mass, etc. For that I am grateful that my wife reached out to our friends and community of faith to solicit prayer. I do think they helped lift what felt like a strange and curiously onerous oppression, in which the past few days the temptation to despair was so great, that I would catch myself thinking and saying "I am Judas," and that I deserve his fate. 

It was only after these collective prayers, I think, that the fog kind of cleared a little enough to see that maybe these were not truths but lies, and to try to get to the source of where they were coming from. That is when I found the story, that I had not heard of until now, of the exorcism of Anna Ecklund in 1912 by Capuchin Father Theophilus Riesinger (think a kind of Fr. Ripperger of the early 20th century). The exorcism of Ecklund was a wicked grind and a brutal trauma of the power of evil for those who witnessed it. But this line in the story really stopped me in my tracks:

"When asked what business the spirits had with her, a voice claiming to be Judas Iscariot finally replied, "To bring her to despair, so that she will commit suicide and hang herself!"

Wow. Now, this was a case of full blown possession, but as many saints through history have recounted, oppression can occur by various demons as well. It made sense--if I had been going regularly to Adoration multiple times a week, Mass, confession, First Fridays, First Saturdays, daily rosary, etc--that maybe this was the Devil's way of mobilizing his entourage to knock one off the path. "He is the hardest to understand," St. John of the Cross wrote. Maybe part of his strategy is to attribute his actions to the self of the person afflicted (the mind, depression, etc) to hide himself there. Then with a Judas-spirit, one attacks the good (the self) like a spiritual auto-immune disease, the accomplish the work of evil (self-destruction, despair). Once he's found out, though, and exposed to the light of reason and a sound mind, well--like it says in scripture "Resist the Devil, and he will flee from you" (James 4:7).

Despair is deceptive, but oh so affective when combined with a darkening of the mind and spirit, and firm resolve. This is when suicide is a dangerous and imminent reality. I don't think this was the case for me, but like I said, the storm came in quick and intense, and I think now I'm just drenched but breathing. The thoughts however, were of the same essence and breed, emanating from the same wretched family. As Padre Pio may have said at one point, "wake up and smell the sulfur." Despair is deceptive, because it can never get us into bed with it without making us drunk and lying to us first. 

When I received my diagnosis in my early twenties, it was one of the biggest reliefs, because the scariest Viet-Cong type enemy is the one you can't identify. Once you do, you can treat it. I imagine it's the same in the spiritual life, once you know what' causing the malaise. I just got back from Adoration and Holy Mass on my lunch break, and prayed binding prayers for myself; thank you to all who stripped the façade by their prayers as well. Despair is deceptive, but once recognized and unmasked, a hearty guffaw and a get-back-to-business attitude will send it scrambling away naked as the day it was conceived. I feel bad for Judas--but not enough to keep him company for all eternity.

The A-List of the Damned

 Years ago, I had an idea for a novel. It involved a holy priest who set off for the mission field of...Hollywood. He rented a room in Skid Row, a stone's throw from Tinseltown, and lived a simple, unassuming life. His aim? To convert the culture from the inside out, starting with the celebrities who he saw as ultimately lost to the world. Over the years, he set himself to making the rounds on foot down Rodeo Drive, hoping to have chance encounters with movie stars so he could sneak--er speak--the Gospel to them. "So many wounded, searching and unhappy souls thirsting for Christ," he would say. "The rich need the Christ too." He figured if he could reach just one--a Justin Bieber or a Brad Pitt--it might be the spark that starts a fire in the Land of the Stars.

It was a tough rope to walk. How do you be in the world and not corrupted by it? Were these celebrities so enmeshed in a culture antithetical to the Gospel too far gone, too closed off, to hear the salvific message of Christ? Most of them, he figured, were. "But if I could just reach one..." he reasoned.

Ultimately the priest did encounter a B-list celebrity at a coffee shop going through a personal crisis; the soil for the gospel seed to take root was fertile in that moment, and the priest spoke to him with compassion and of the well that never runs dry. He invited him to Mass, which the priest himself would attend everyday not con-celebrating but sitting in the back pew unassumingly. 

After a few months, the actor stepped through the doors, and the priest embraced him. A friendship developed, and the priest shared Christ with Him, broke open the scriptures, and ultimately heard his confession, as he had been raised Catholic. The actor began to change his life, as the materialism of the L.A. lifestyle lost its luster. He told others in the industry who, like him, were not happy and searching for 'something more' about the priest. Word spread, underground, and soon a small group of actors and actresses would visit him on Skid Row to learn more about this Christ, to serve the homeless, and have their lives transformed. 

Though I never got the novel off the ground, I thought the storyline was a good one. A bit naive, but good. 

I always thought celebrities were just successful people who were wrapped up in the things of the world. But after a friend send me a video of an ex-Freemason-turned-Christian who spent five hours exposing the extent to which Freemasonry has infiltrated the entertainment industry, I realized there is something more nefarious going on in the spiritual aquifer beneath L.A. (Note: I watched the entire five hours, and though it seems kind of out there, it sheds light and explains a lot about the link between Satanism and Freemasonry and how prevalent it is in this industry, as well as politics. Search YouTube: "X-Factor Winner Reveals World's Secret Religion"

Can the Gospel seed take root when the lost have literally sold themselves to Satan for the promise of fame and fortune? Not without some serious battle-waging, as I see it. Deliverance Prayers for the Laity (Sensus Traditionis Press) has prayers for the breaking of curses specific to Freemasonry, including Scottish Rite and 33rd degree (highest order), so one can see that it is no easy thing to extricate from the bondage of such influence. There is a hatred of Christianity wrapped in the guise of fraternity and charitable service within these orders, and as the narrator of the video makes clear, some at the lower levels may not even realize they are part of the front for the more nefarious dealings in the higher ranks. 

If Satan is the prince of this world, and can deliver on his promises to provide one with their heart's desires for the things of the world (money, power, fame), is it any wonder the rise to fame some of these marginally talented agents have experienced? The thing is, he doesn't work for free, but expects something in return--ie, your soul. They have their reward.

But that doesn't mean some don't want to 'get out' but don't know how. I think of the Katie Holmes', in her case trying to escape Scientology, who had seeds of faith planted in her childhood, as one example. It must be a scary thing to be so awash in a sea of evil that you have no hope for someone coming to ransom you. But Christ can do all things. In the novel I had dreamed up, a holy priest saw the "poorest of the poor" in the spiritually lost but materially rich celebrities and went to them. One must have a deep and strong faith to resist the temptations one would encounter working in this dangerous collective spiritual environment. The priest has the authority and power given to him by Christ to exorcise such demons, but he must be living a holy, prayerful, and virtuous life himself not to be corrupted by its influence. 

I think this nefarious taproot goes deeper than we can imagine, especially in the worlds of politics and entertainment.  Who will save the lost? Are they worth saving? Are they open to grace and the redemptive power of Christ? Don't underestimate the grip of evil and not being in a state of grace, but don't give it more power than it deserves either. Christ is victorious over death itself--he can save those who cry out to Him. But He asks, "Who will I send?"

The Good Samaritan

 Yesterday I was really struggling...complete emptiness and the familiar creep of depression rolling in. Though I've battled it for the past twenty-some years, it still catches me off guard sometimes. Self-accusation, feelings of failure, bitter loneliness (even in the midst of people who love me), lack of energy, and self-isolation. None of my depressions these days are too long-lived (unlike in the past, where they would stretch for weeks or months), but they can be fierce like a tempest.

I went through my mental rolodex of people to call, but was struggling to think of anyone who would understand. Except there was one guy who I thought might, though I hadn't talked to him since I met him at the Courage conference a couple years ago (as an aside, I don't have SSA, but have friends who do, so thought it would be a good chance to understand some of the issues in the Church surrounding SSA and help support those who were trying to live chaste lives by the Church's teachings). 

I have a general policy, that if anyone flashes through my mind at a given point, I either pick up the phone or email/text them, figuring there is a reason why they popped into my consciousness. In this case, I think it really was divine inspiration. This was a man who had lived the gay lifestyle for years until he was converted and came back to the faith, and now lives chastely. An unlikely friendship, honestly. We talked for about two hours, and it was a true balm. I was actually surprised, at the end of the conversation, I was able to get off the couch and do some things--planted some tomato plants after work, cleaned a little around the house. He was kind and encouraging, didn't write me off, and though it wasn't anything in particular he said, it was enough to know that someone believed in you and cared enough to take the time to talk. 

In "Bring Me My Weapon" I wrote:

The thought of killing myself hadn't crossed my mind in a number of years. So I didn't recognize it when it appeared tonight in my bedroom like an unwelcome guest, a Stranger "rapping sharply, four times...on the fatal door of destiny."

I hadn't invited the Thought. It seemed a culmination of events had led to leaving the door slightly ajar, able to be pushed in from the outside. Feelings of betrayal from friends, stress at work and home, and doubt were likely suspects, but not enough to explain the barrage of negative and aggressive thoughts, the usual suspects: "It's useless. You'll never amount to anything. Better off without you. You have no one. You are alone. Just get it over with already and quit wasting our time."   Everything just seemed to be going down. I lay in bed and stared at the wall. Tears had dried up hours ago but I was weary and had trouble moving out of bed.

This seemed like a similar outside attack, but it's hard to distinguish sometimes--brain chemistry, circumstances, moods, and of course the spiritual. All I know is I was feeling brutally low, and I was grateful this ex-gay man picked up the phone when I called. There must have a been a reason he came into my mind. These periods can be frightening, when you are fighting your own mind. Kindness has such a soft connotation, but when it is sincere, it can reach places where other approaches can't. Most of the time, in these periods, I recognize that people have their own stuff they are going through and precious little time, so it makes it harder to reach out. Plus you don't want people to see you when you are your worst. But this man took the time, as much time as I needed, and bandaged my mental wounds just by caring about me in that moment.

So, I'll stick to my policy of reaching out to others, and reaching out myself, when a flash of a person comes through my mind and take it as divine inspiration. I'm sure there was a reason this time.

"The Spirit of God Left Him:" When Mental Illness and Demonic Obsession Meet

Last night as I was helping my son prepare for his first Confession, and we were going through an examination of conscience in his St. Joseph First Communion book, I realized I have been a little sloppy in my own EOCs. I have a bad memory, and yet I don't write my sins down typically. I go through a general Examination of Conscience in my head, but not in fine detail. When I do go to Confession, I don't withhold anything intentionally, but cover myself with "for all these sins and those sins I can't remember, I humbly beg pardon, penance, and absolution" on account of my forgetfulness.

But last night I decided to join my son in writing down my sins, and using a more thorough Examination of Conscience. I said we would burn the papers in the outdoor fireplace together after we finished making our Confessions and received absolution (which we did). There is something about writing down sins, and confessing them with the lips, that makes it real in a way, something I think many Protestants miss out on without the benefit of the Sacrament. The taste of holy shame on our lips as the words are spoken, like a burning crimson ember, turns to sweetness when the Lord extinguishes it with a breath in absolution. Then we are filled with the Holy Spirit to begin our lives anew, white robes and all, ready to die and ready to live.

In digging deeper last night than I normally might, I unearthed some sins that I may have confessed and been forgiven of, but which still haunted me because I did not perhaps lay them out in as much detail as was warranted, given how shameful they were (I should mention that I do not struggle with scrupulosity, OCD, or feeling unforgiven).

Of course, those sins are for the Lord's eyes only, and I do not plan to go into detail about them. But it was from a chapter in my life in which, I believe, I actually went through a mild form of demonic obsession that coincided with a period of acute diagnosed mental illness. In fact, I speculate that it was not being in a state of grace that opened up a spiritual wound which got infected, and my mind was leveraged against me during this period by demonic forces.

I am very careful in sharing my own testimonies of God's grace and redemption, my particular struggles, and trying to do so for the glory of God. Not because I am afraid to share some personal things, but because I don't want to generalize what I have experienced as a proscription for others. My situation is unique in some ways and ordinary in others; I would hope relatable on some fronts, and maybe particular to my circumstances on others.

This can be a very difficult area in which to tread because of symptomatic overlap. It needs to be stated that mental illness is usually in its own diagnostic category (psychiatric) and that spiritual issues should be dealt with spiritually (via the sacraments, confession, consultation with clergy and spiritual directors, etc).

It is when spiritual malaise and mental malaise intersect in a kind of Venn diagram of illness that it can be very difficult to discern root causes and treatments. Some fundamentalists will put forth that mental illness is a sin problem, not a mind problem; Psychiatric professionals would purport that there is no spiritual element to strictly neurological or psychiatric conditions. I think both are not entirely accurate. There are spiritual elements at play, as well as biological/neurological/psychiatric. The intersection is where it gets muddy.

A passage from scripture that has always stayed with me because of it's frightful imagery appears in 1 Samuel 16:14

"Now the Spirit of the Lord departed from Saul, and an evil spirit from the Lord terrorized him." 

And later in 1 Sam 19:9-10:

"But an evil spirit from the Lord came on Saul as he was sitting in his house with his spear in his hand. While David was playing the lyre, Saul tried to pin him to the wall with his spear, but David eluded him as Saul drove the spear into the wall."

We know, that when we commit moral sin, the spirit of God departs from us, as it did to Saul. We are spiritually naked and out in the wind, so to speak, vulnerable and in danger of damnation. I was very much in a state of mortal sin prior to the onset of my first severe psychiatric episode. When the episode itself hit like a tidal wave (acute mania followed by psychosis), the spiritual vulnerability was leveraged in obsessive religiosity.

But it was not the holy kind. In fact, there were unmentionable instances of blatant blasphemy that I was driven to, not unlike Saul being driven by an evil spirit to pin David to the wall with a spear. I cannot use the illness itself to release me from the hook, though it may have mitigated culpability to an extent. But because I was not in a state of grace (my choice, my will, my volition), I had made a home for demons to dwell and force my hand against the Lord God, my Savior himself. Part of me would say today, "I did not know what I was doing." But that was the scary part. Who was moving my will? Who was forcing my hand? Who was throwing the spear? There was no grace in me--I was spiritually dead. And so in that vacuum, a nest was made.

In recounting my past sins of such blasphemy--which I had confessed before but which now seemed so grievous that I'm not sure I confessed them in the amount of detail that should have been warranted--I was able to verbalize in shame, feeling the burn, and rooting out the vestiges of straw and bark from the nest itself. I may not have been in my right mind, but I was not in a right spirit either, and that I had brought on myself through disobedience. The danger was acute. I was driven to the brink of suicide in the ensuing crash following these psychic highs, in which I had visions of "a black man, a shadow figure, a faceless one, wearing a hat and calling me to another side" from which only God's merciful grace (of which I had not merit to) kept me from crossing over to.

Part of "tripping into" this state of moral desolation in which the spirit of God is not living within a person (mortal sin) is so commonplace today, I fear for the vulnerability of the mind of those going through it, including my own. Which is why I am so careful, and so grateful, to have been shown (by grace) what needs to be avoided, and what needs to be embraced, to be in a state of grace. Because I truly believe that a state of grace is what fortifies my mind against unwelcome guests, the same spirits that afflicted Saul and drove him mad. I have had no symptoms of psychiatric malaise, despite a severe and verified clinical diagnosis, in almost ten years, and I attribute this in part due to that indwelling grace that was not killed off by mortal sin.

But I am acutely aware, too, that I need to be vigilant about the scummy buildup of venial sins on my soul that can make me and others more susceptible to mortal sin. Again, this is not a matter of obsession or scrupulosity, but tempered periodic soul scrubbing by the Divine Physician himself every few weeks in the Church's gift of the Sacrament of Confession. As I have stated in past conversations and writings, I still attend to the psychiatric preconditions necessary to stay healthy (medication, exercise, diet, sleep, doctor's visits, etc) to keep that "control group" in check. If I'm psychologically healthy and spiritually in trouble, the one can affect the other. Both are within my power, to a degree, due to the grace of baptism (the will) and knowledge (knowing what I need to do to stay healthy) so we don't have a repeat episode of what happened fifteen years ago. I don't every want to go through that again, while never wanting to forget the abomination of desolation that was my soul when not in a state of grace, and a nest of demons living in my inner being compelling me to act contrary to the virtues by the forcing and misappropriation of my mind and will. It is so very dangerous to give them any footing in the soul, which is why I try to be vigilant in staying close under the mantle of Our Lady and with the Cross every before my eyes. I know what's at stake, and the mind is an existential battleground where war is waged, a war against my very self, which I am not strong enough to withstand on my own. Without grace, I am doomed. If the Spirit of God leaves me, I am indeed a mad man in the making, hunting down the pious servants of God with deranged eyes, seeking to pin them to the wall with jagged spears, to crucify the saints and betray Christ himself. I can't afford that. So, I hope you will forgive me for treating the stakes very high in this battlefield of the mind. May God be praised, may His Holy Name be praised, that He extinguishes the burning ember of shame and we might taste the sweet fragrance of divine forgiveness, and be welcomed back into His friendship, restored to a right spirit, and a sound mind.

Night At The Mausoleum

About a month ago a friend and reader of this blog alerted me to a Satanic "Black Mass" taking place in Philly in mid-October. Now, I don't know the ins and outs of the occult and Satanic rituals, but I know they are not good! I used to live in Philly, and knew the area where it was taking place. I am young enough where I can still get into shows without looking like an old guy. I live about half an hour from the venue. I've been known to do a few, how shall we say, unorthodox things. So, I was kind of used to God saying (not audibly), "I need you to do something for Me." And I know enough to know that when God calls you to something, you do it. You can always say no thanks to free-will. But regret is a real possibility, as well as missed graces that come from obedience. So, I said Lord I will go.

The blasphemy against Our Lord was scheduled to take place 8pm Friday, 12 October at the Philadelphia Mausoleum of Contemporary Art at 12th and Spring Garden. It was sold out by mid-September. They opened up another one at 10pm. Sold out. A friend forwarded me the Facebook event page. 1,200 people interested in attending. So disheartening, first for those who know what they are doing and looking to get into, and those who don't. The occult is NOTHING to mess around with, and it does not take much to open up a door to evil.

This was the kind of thing I didn't want to go off doing half-cocked. On 9 September I wrote to Archbishop Chaput to alert him of the event (he was already aware) and to run by him the idea of sealing the perimeter prior to Friday the 12th, to seek his permission and blessing to undertake something like this. He gave it. I reached out to two traditional priests familiar with spiritual warfare, who both also gave their blessing, provided I was in a state of grace. I wrote to my spiritual director and told him of the plans, which he supported. I wrote to an well-known exorcist in Denver and told myself if he said, "not a good idea," I would drop it. I waited weeks for his reply, but never got one. So I figured no news was okay news, and decided to move forward.

I prayed. And prayed. But I also felt I was in a position to take action. I noticed on the venue's calendar there was a band playing on Thursday evening, 11 October. I bought a ticket and got down to planning. I ordered one hundred blessed and exorcised St. Benedict medals. After our experience with the power of the Miraculous Medals, I know that sacramentals activated by faith have great power to impart grace. They are not charms, they are not superstitious, but gifts of grace that can literally work miracles. I wanted to throw a stick in the spokes of these blasphemers wheels, but co-vertly. I heard once from a friend that one exorcised St Benedict medal was enough to drive a demon from a woman's house that he knew. The plan was to clandestinely place them throughout the venue and seal the perimeter with the exorcised salt and holy water.

I also found through a friend a contact for a traditional priest and was able to make an appointment with him to bless and exorcise in the old rite salt and water to use. I met with him on Monday 8 October--he heard my confession, prayed over me, gave me a blessing in Latin, and blessed and salt and water. I knew these were powerful sacramentals as well. A friend who is trained in spiritual warfare wrote this to me:

"I don't know if you remember the case of the coach who was told not to kneel and pray on the football field at a public school, but it happened in my town. The satanists aided by a teacher in the school had protested and forced him to stop, which he refused on legal grounds. The satanists in the region(we are a center for the cult)promised to show up to the next game to cast spells and oppress the coach and people.

Myself and a couple others from my Church and a couple from a local protestant church decided to go and pray over the field and area. We took blessed salt and Holy water and walked the perimeter, praying prayers of intercession and warfare prayers. We went into the stands and anywhere we knew people would be gathering. The only place we werent able to go was the upper parking lot because the band was practicing there. The next evening when the satanists gathered they simply were unable to step foot wherever we had walked, prayed and anointed. The ONLY place they could stand to be was the small parking lot were were unable to get to. The wrapped it up pretty quickly because it was very uncomfortable for them.

Here are warfare prayers suitable for this situation, and remember, you represent the power and authority of the Holy Creator of the Universe who wields all power and authority to overturn anything the enemy seeks to do. ONE drop of Christ's shed blood is more than enough to overturn all the death,destruction and evil of the enemy and sin. First say the prayer of St Patrick, pray for each other, then launch into warfare prayers"

I want to stress that this whole thing was an act of obedience. It seemed crazy. I don't know why God was calling me to the things He calls me to, but that shouldn't be my concern. We all have a part to play in the Divine plan, and the question is, will we carry out our part. But the closer the event came over the course of the past month, the more I did not want to do it. I felt like the son in the parable whom the father asked to go work in the vineyard and who said, "I won't," but ended up going (Mt 21:28-32).

On Wednesday evening, I got the spiritual artillery ready. The exorcised St. Benedict medals I placed on small 1"x1" tabs of black duct tape, 12 of them (for the 12 tribes of Israel), and mixed the exorcised salt in with the holy water in a spring water bottle.

This morning I went to Mass and prayed my daily rosary, had a work event, and got home from work a little early and prayed my prayers of deliverance, the Prayer of St. Michael and St. Patrick, the Litany of Humility and the Litany of Saints (in Latin), blinding prayers and prayers of adjuration. Many many friends were praying as well. I rested for a bit, and then headed to the city. I wore cargo shorts with side pockets where I kept the medals concealed in duct tape and a bag of salt, a green scapular touched to the true Cross of Christ, and a relic of St. Martin de Porres. I had been checking the forecast all day and was sure I was going to get dumped on, but miraculously the thunderstorms held off and it was completely dry. I also found a parking spot a block from the venue.

Doors were at 7:30, and I arrived right then. I had been studying the insides from google maps 360 degrees to get an idea of the layout. Tonight, though, they had the upstairs closed off. I got my ticket at Will Call and there were just a few guys hanging around, one selling beers and sodas, another at the front. I was early, and it was a small show and small venue. First stop was the bathroom.

I went in and immediately took out the medal tabs and placed them: above the door jamb, behind a framed picture on the wall, behind the sink. I splashed the holy water/salt solution on all the walls.

When I came out, it was still not crowded at all. I pretended to tie my shoe and managed to lodge a medal between a baseboard and wall panel. I moved over to where an inverted 6 foot cross was in the corner in preparation for tomorrow event. I couldn't believe my good fortune. The two or three random guys working the show and concession were not paying attention. I kicked a medal under the stage (right where the BM would be taking place), and placed another taped medal behind a piece of art on the wall. The venue was so small, there were not many other places I could place them without being conspicuous, but I figured that was better than I could have hoped for.

"What time is the show?" I asked the guy at the front, "Eight." "Okay," I said, "I'm just going to run out for a minute to get something." He nodded. I left through the front door and pretended to take a drink from the bottle of holy water/salt, but instead spilled it all over the front entrance stoop. I hung around front for a minute or so out front and found a small font where I also was able to place a medal. I couldn't believe it. I was in and out in less than 20 minutes. The place was sealed.

There was a woman and a young handicapped man praying the rosary out front. A friend had told me this woman would be there, coming up from DC where she was praying for the Red Rose Rescue trial. I nodded to her and placed a medal in the palm of her hand. Then I started walking away to my car. As soon as I got to my car, the skies opened up and it began to pour.

I did what I was asked, and now the rest is in His hands. I'm glad to be home and to have been obedient--there is peace in serving the Lord. So many graces. I would like to thank all those who prayed for this mission. I can honestly say this would not have gone as smoothly and without incident if this small army or prayer warriors were not interceding and covering me in protection.

Let us continue to pray through midnight 12th October that this event might be foiled and in reparation for the offense against the Most Holy Body and Blood of our Lord. I will be going to the FSSP parish in Conshohocken tomorrow evening for Holy Hour and Latin Mass in reparation.  The Devil hates Latin, as they say.

May His Holy Name be praised, now and forever. Amen.