The Rite: The Making of a Modern Exorcist (2 page)

For many years, a small but vocal group of overworked exorcists in Italy, led by Father Gabriele Amorth, has tried to get the Church to take the increasing numbers of people who claim to be possessed more seriously. First, they said, more exorcists need to be appointed. However, the Church would have to ensure that any new exorcists be properly trained. Advocates such as Father Amorth assert that in the past, too many exorcists were appointed in name only. In addition, some of these “untrained” exorcists gave the rite of exorcism a bad name by abusing their authority. One of the most egregious cases took place in 2005, when a Romanian nun who'd been gagged and bound to a crucifix in a room at her convent was found dead; the priest who had been performing the exorcism was charged with murder.

Hoping to rectify the situation, in the fall of 2004 the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith sent a letter to the various Catholic dioceses around the world, starting with those in America, asking each bishop to appoint an official exorcist.

At the same time, a Vatican-affiliated University in Rome began putting together a groundbreaking course entitled “Exorcism and the Prayer of Liberation” with the intention of educating a new cadre of exorcists about the official teachings of the Church on the Devil and exorcism.

A remarkable American priest answered this call and traveled to Rome in the summer of 2005 to be trained as an exorcist. Over the span of nine months he delved deeply into a world he never knew existed, completing the course and participating in over eighty exorcisms along with a senior Italian exorcist. As a result, his view of the world—and his place in it—changed dramatically, and he later returned to the United States, determined to use his new awareness of evil and its manifest presence to help people in their everyday lives.

CHAPTER ONE

ROME

We should try to be so closely united to our Lord that we reproduce his life in our own, that our thoughts and words and actions should proclaim his teaching, so that he reigns in us, lives in us.

—
Charles de Foucauld

W
hen Father Gary Thomas stepped out onto Via delle Fornaci at 7:45 on the morning of October 13, 2005, the road was already clogged with traffic. A long line of cars and buses inched toward the intersection of Via di Porta Cavalleggeri, funneled into the mouth of the tunnel by a canyon of four- and five-story buildings that ran along the base of the Gianicolo, one of Rome's many hills. A traffic cop, dressed like an airline captain festooned with epaulets, was doing his best to maintain order, waving cars through and screeching at the more aggressive motorists with his whistle. When the light turned green, drivers wasted no time laying into their horns.

On either side of the road, morning commuters hurried along in the direction of the Vatican, the acrid smell of cigarette smoke trailing behind them like contrails. Occasionally commuters would duck into a bar for their morning cappuccinos, and the roar of an espresso machine spilled out onto the sidewalk.

Standing on the corner, caught up in the chaos, Father Gary took a second to admire the scene as if it were some exotic postcard come to life. This was nothing like any rush hour he had experienced back home in San Francisco. The city the cars, the people—all seemed to harmonize like some massive orchestra.

Even though he was wearing his black clerics, he blended in seamlessly with the crowds. Rome is, after all, full of priests. According to some estimates, more than 15,000 of them walk the city's narrow streets, and that doesn't even include the several thousand seminarians who also wear the Roman collar and black garb. In addition, with all the chapels, monasteries, convents, and hundreds of churches, not to mention the Vatican itself, it was no wonder that Father Gary dubbed the city the “aorta of Christianity.”

As if he needed an additional reminder, the massive
palazzo
that housed the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, the all-important gatekeeper of Church doctrine, stood directly across the street. And beyond that, the distant sunlit cupola of Saint Peter's Basilica floated above the tops of the buildings like an apparition. The sight of it—which Father Gary could also see out of his bedroom window—never failed to move him. In Rome he felt he was part of something bigger than himself, bigger than just the petty little day-to-day concerns that sometimes overwhelm a parish priest. “When you are a pastor, you have to wear nine hats,” he said later, with a hint of regret. “It's not that it's all administration, but it does tend to take you away from the things that are more important, such as focusing on people's prayer life.”

At age fifty-two he had recently left his post at Saint Nicholas parish in Los Altos, California, where he had served for fifteen years, twelve of them as pastor. While he'd enjoyed the work at Saint Nicholas immensely and had made innumerable friends, the grueling daily grind of being pastor had taken its toll. He had not only helped to completely refurbish several buildings at the parish school; he'd also raised millions of dollars to turn the old rectory into a state-of-the-art community center that pleased parishioners so much they had named it after him.

Ordained in 1983, Father Gary had been a priest for twenty-two years, and over that time he had seen—and been through—a lot. In 1997 he had nearly died in a terrible accident. While hiking with a friend in the foothills of Yosemite, he'd fallen off a sixty-foot cliff onto river rock, miraculously surviving, though during his painful two-year recovery he sometimes wished he hadn't.

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.

I
N 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.

U
NLIKE 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.