through physical means. For instance, after His resurrection, the man Jesus passes through locked doors. He is witnessed appearing and disappearing. These are properties reserved for spirits. Yet Jesus is not a ghost. He is a man, and remains a man. In order to defuse their doubts, the Lord chooses to eat with His disciples. He does the same today as His omnipresence continues to be employed by means of His human nature. He remains present in the flesh of His body and blood through Eucharistic celebrations at all times and at all places. He is always fully, and not partially, with us. The grip of evil may oscillate, but the presence of God never fluctuates. His nearness is not a yo-yo contingent upon our shifting prayers or lack of holy inner qualities. He is a God who has become man, entirely. He remains fully human—yet mostly hidden. The birth of Christ, which assumed all flesh in Himself, and His subsequent redemptive works culminating on Good Friday has re-dignified our human nature in general and our Christian bodies in particular. We are, after all, His body. Hence, those divine attributes and powers are, in a mystical and mysterious sense, our possession. My words can now frighten the demons by both form and content: they protrude from fleshly lips redeemed by Christ, the God-man, and they carry a divine message originating in the heavenly city. When God made humankind in His image, He knew that one day He would assume that very image in its entirety by the virgin birth.
I sometimes wonder whether or not the devil is jealous that God did not assume the form of an angel. In C.S. Lewis’ science-fiction novel, Out of the Silent Planet, the aliens on other planets (who also worship the Triune God) are dumbfounded and bewildered in their first meeting with a human being. Here before them stood the unique creature whose form the boundless Creator of the universe had assumed! God became man! The Creator had incorporated human beings into His life and Being. The authority that belonged to Christ had been communicated to His people and, to some extent, so had His capabilities.
That being said, what I didn’t know then but do know now, is that the “priesthood of all believers” doesn’t qualify every Christian to do all the same works in all the same places and at all the same times. Every part of Christ’s body battles the devil to different degrees, and to ignore distinctions between members is a very dangerous business indeed. Roman Catholic canon law forbids the laity any use of formulas of exorcism or their corresponding sacramentals (e.g. exorcized salt, oil and water). The exorcists undergo professional training. Even those who possess a certain charisma or gift of sensitivity for detecting demonic presence (and deciphering diabolical possession from, say, psychological illness) must have a reputation for being humble, prayerful and rejecters of money and theatrics, before they are publicly acknowledged and commissioned.14 Although we may find some of these restrictions legalistic, one must never forget that an exorcist acts on behalf of the Church at large—the Church militant—and not as an individual. For the same reason, the catholic and apostolic Church has authorized only ordained priests to preside over the mass and only divinely called pastors to preach publicly. When lay people attempt demonic warfare in a non-transparent and private manner, they deprive themselves of the full power and capacity offered by the Church universal. “If all were a single member, where would the body be?” (1 Cor 12:19) This happened to be my error with Lisa.
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Lisa fell into one of her trances as we strolled out of her mother’s dilapidated bungalow and passed in front of the weathered garage door. It was mid-summer, early afternoon. After a few steps, she froze in a stupor, except for her arms that swayed at her sides like rubber bands. Standing still as a mannequin, her head fell forward, motionless. This time, in this trance, something was different. She was not herself. More accurately, she was not there at all—something else was. I stepped away from her and asked God for guidance through a very short prayer with my eyes wide open. I had nothing to lose. I felt a bit paranoid, especially if it all turned out to be an immature prank. I began to address—what I thought might be—a demon. A wave of terror swept over me and I broke into a cold sweat. It all seemed so surreal. Lisa started to tremble slightly, head still hanging low, her face hidden under a veil of thick dark hair masking her sinking frame. To my surprise, I heard a deep voice protrude from a mouth that normally produced a high-pitched tone. It stated simply, “she’s mine,” after which the host resumed her ordinary state. No foaming at the mouth or 360 degree head spins. Yet those two simple words spoken in the third person sent chills up my spine. What an accurate expression summarizing its possession: “she’s mine.” It turned out that it was right.
St. Augustine, who is one of the first Christians to develop a formalized “demonology,” describes demons as discontented entities. Despising their creaturely status and envying human beings, they seek to enter human bodies and take residence therein, like a thief breaking into a house. Their ability to succeed is partially determined by whether or not the owner has left the door unlocked, or even left it swung wide open in an inviting manner. Actually “demon possession” is etymologically misrepresentative. Satan can never “possess” anything entirely (at best he can “borrow”) since the one true God remains the giver of all things. He alone retains the exclusive title of “Maker.” In the end, it is the devil’s greatest frustration.15 He remains a creature in spite of his ambition to become the Creator. Even hell is not under his rule. There, he suffers worse than all. In short, the demons feel themselves to be unfulfilled, dissatisfied with their place in life, driving them to usurp that of other creatures.16 But no matter where they are or what they do, they will never abide in joy. It sounds all too familiar. We too share in this error in our unhappiness with regards to our stations in life: jealous of our neighbours’ success or vocations, wife or husband, home, children, and whatever else belongs to him or her. We fraternize with the league of demons in our nebulous longing for membership in a more “suitable” church, life in a flashier city, the salary of a more lucrative job paired with a more exalted position, and all the other sins against the last commandments. We unobtrusively grumble, “If only I was God, I would do things differently.” Lucifer shared this same sentiment even before our creation.
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The nature of a demon is a subject worth pondering. The word “demon” comes from the Greek daimon, which can be translated as “instrument” or “tool.” Ironically, demons do not want to be what they are. Loathing their instrumentality, they reject their place in the cosmological hierarchy. Our Lord warns, “When you see the abomination of desolation standing where he ought not to be (let the reader understand), then let those who are in Judea flee to the mountains” (Mark 13:14). Unlike their angelic brothers, they refuse to remain God’s messengers and helpers, taking residence in places to which they are not assigned. Along with punk rock star Iggy Pop, they “lust for life,” but not their own. They want ours. Like us human beings, they are dissatisfied with their position in life. They reject their identity as servants and wish to seize the place of the king. They abhor being “used” and lust to be “ends,” even though that unique position is already fulfilled by God Himself who is the single end of all things.
The Lord is the sole source of peace, rest, love, and joy although the demons adamantly deny it (while we often resist it). Accordingly, every creature’s fulfilment is uniquely in Him. Even unbelievers know this to be true intuitively. The secular world too has its prophets. The novels of Henry James and Ernest Hemingway impart a message that all human choices lead to dissatisfaction. A disproportionate number of poets commit suicide. True peace and rest for the Christian are found solely in God because, at the end of the day, at the end of our life, at the end of the world, we have one single use. Just as a light bulb finds satisfaction solely in an electrical socket, having no other use, so too, worship is the manner in which human beings are plugged into God, their unique source of eternal contentment. But due to our sinful and corrupt nature we have allied ourselves with the devil, a false plug and empty hole: the begetter of death, robber of life, root of all evil and vice, instigator of envy, font of avarice, fomenter of discord, and author of all pain and sorrow. We are clueless to the fact that our simple dissatisfactions betray our true allegiance. Yet just like the demons, we do not want to be
