The Rite: The Making of a Modern Exorcist

by Matt Baglio

  After an hour or so, the stillness was broken by the loud thump-thumping of a helicopter approaching from the south. The Navy had sent a large CH-46 Sea Night with twin rotors. By then it was late afternoon, about four hours after Father Gary had fallen. For Jim, the sound of the approaching helicopter was extremely comforting. If Father can just hold on, he thought.

  After circling for several minutes, the crewman was lowered in a metal basket. Father Gary was placed inside and the crewman hooked the line up while the helicopter thundered overhead, the massive twin rotors shaking the trees violently with their downdraft. While this was going on, Jim remembers the crewman saying more than once, “We're losing him!” as Father Gary's blood pressure dipped dangerously low. When everything was set, the crewman got on top of the basket to secure it, and the helicopter lifted them into the sky, whipping through the air like a child's toy.

  As the helicopter disappeared from view, Jim and the other rescuers exchanged hugs. Gathering up their gear, they made their way down to South Fork Bridge. Jim's dog Buck was hoisted onto a stretcher (the one intended for Father Gary) and carried along as well, while Spitz followed on foot. When they reached the road, Jim was confronted by an amazing sight: The bridge was packed with every kind of rescue vehicle imaginable, including about ten fire trucks. In addition, a large earth mover had been employed in an attempt to carve out a road through the riverbed, though after fifty yards, this idea had apparently been abandoned.

  Meanwhile Father Gary was flown to a nearby abandoned golf course and dropped down on the ninth green, where a Life Flight helicopter was waiting to fly him to Memorial Medical Center in Modesto. Nobody on board thought he was going to make it.

  IN MODESTO, the doctors immediately went to work performing a series of operations on Father Gary the first of which lasted about fourteen hours. His injuries were extensive: The accident had fractured the c6 and c7 vertebrae in his neck, caved in a part of his skull, shattered his right wrist (this injury wouldn't be discovered until later), damaged the carpal tunnel, severed his orbital nerve, broken his kneecap, and turned his right elbow to dust. In addition, his face was severely lacerated and bruised and would require over a hundred stitches. The big question was brain damage; his head injury was serious and the surgeons wouldn't know the extent of the damage until they opened his skull.

  After surgery the doctors had good news. The brain membrane was intact, so there would be no brain damage. He also wouldn't be paralyzed, since he'd broken only two of the three bones in his neck (breaking all three can lead to paralysis). This relative stroke of luck was attributed to his probably falling directly onto the water bottles in the backpack, which somehow cushioned the blow. The only real doubt was whether he'd be able to use his elbow again. They had scoped it out twice, cleaning out shattered bone, but the damage was extensive.

  FOR THE FOLLOWING TWO DAYS Father Gary remained heavily sedated and in the ICU. He underwent another eleven-hour operation. And while he was conscious, the shock of the accident combined with the drugs clouded his mind. Doctors assured his parents that he would eventually come out of the fog.

  The whole time his parents, his friends, and numerous priests kept a vigil over him. In addition, prayer services were held throughout the diocese as word got around about Father Gary's terrible accident.

  On the fourth day much to everyone's relief, Father Gary came around, waking up in the ICU wearing a neck brace, a cast on his arm, and bandages on his knee. Seeing his mother standing over him, he posed the obvious question: “What happened?”

  “Don't you remember?” she said.

  In truth he didn't. The last thing he recalled was Jim handing him the backpack. “What am I doing here?” he said.

  She broke it to him. “You fell off a cliff.”

  He struggled to understand. “What day is it?” She told him it was Saturday.

  “I have two weddings to do today,” he responded.

  The doctor smiled. “That's great! He remembers.”

  After spending ten days at Modesto, he was transferred to Sequoia for twenty days of rehab.

  After yet another operation in August to repair his wrist, he went to stay with his folks, battered and bruised and barely able to function. After losing about a third of the mobility in his right hand, he couldn't do even simple tasks such as buttoning his shirt.

  Taking a leave of absence, he spent the next eight months recuperating at his parents’ house in San Mateo, going to Stanford for rehab twice a week and doing an additional six hours of therapy every day at home—back exercises, knee exercises, and neck exercises. Some part of his body always needed to be addressed.

  Almost immediately, the effect of post-traumatic stress began to take its toll. At times, the pain was unbearable. Unable to bathe or go to the bathroom by himself, he felt uncomfortable with his own body and stripped of all dignity. His hair had been shaved for the surgery on his skull and coupled with that there were the bruises and numerous facial lacerations. He barely recognized himself in a mirror, which proved an apt metaphor for how he felt about life in general.

  In addition to his other injuries, the fractured skull caused a constant sensation of vertigo, necessitating that he walk with a cane. Beyond this, he began to obsess about the cause of the accident, and about when, if ever, he would feel whole again. At the hospital Jim had half jokingly called him “Lazarus” because he seemed to have been raised from the dead. But now that he was in so much pain, he began to question his faith, wondering why God had allowed him to survive at all. Now he was the one who needed tending, and he understood the plight of many parishioners in an entirely new way. Physical pain doesn't hold a candle to depression, he thought.

  Going back to work—which he did in November 1997, at first easing in one day a week—helped him stop obsessing. By January 1998, he increased his work schedule to three days a week, and by April, just nine months after his accident, he was back to full time.

  At first, it wasn't easy going. He still walked with a cane, had a shaved scalp and a face disfigured with scars. He was very self-conscious about his appearance. There were days when he would tell the staff, “Bear with me today. I am really depressed, and it's not you.” At times his depression got so bad that he contemplated suicide. Over and over he would ask the same question: Why did God save me on those rocks? Why didn't He let me die? In the end, the only thing that pulled him through was his reluctance to leave the world that way. Thinking about his parents quickly put an end to his suicidal thoughts—he would never burden them with that grief.

  He began taking medication and went to a trauma clinician— recommended by one of his parishioners—who helped him find relief through a technique known as EMDR (eye movement desensitization and reprocessing). He also went to healing masses at Saint Joseph's in Capitola. Already a big believer in the sacrament of the sick (in which the priest prays for the person to be healed in “body, soul, and in spirit”), he found the masses helpful not only for the blessings they bestowed, but also because they helped him reconnect with the healing ministry of Christ and with the power of prayer.

  In August 1998, he went to a neurologist, Dr. Susan Hansen, also his parishioner, to find out why his vertigo hadn't gone away. In the process of doing an MRI, Dr. Hansen inadvertently answered the question that had been tormenting Father Gary. She surmised that Father Gary's heart murmur must have caused his heart to throw a clot, in turn leading to him having a slight stroke before the fall. The stroke would have caused him to be disoriented, and as a result, he had probably just walked off the cliff. (The MRI also exposed the fact that Father Gary has a dangerously enlarged heart, and if that condition had gone undetected for much longer he could have suffered a major heart attack.)

  The second he heard the news he felt healed. He was elated as he shared this revelation with his parents and Jim. “I don't know why I am so damn excited,” he confessed. But the realization that he hadn't done anything wrong was a huge relief.

  In J
anuary 1999, nearly two years after his accident, he underwent one last operation to chisel down the bone growth in his elbow, which enabled him to have full movement of his arm again. He was finally healed—spiritually and physically.

  Because of this accident, Father Gary comprehended the depths of suffering following a traumatic event and could respond in a uniquely empathetic way to people who were convalescing or depressed. He also saw the importance of prayer in the healing process. As a result of the benefit he'd gained from the healing masses he'd attended, he planned on conducting a weekly healing mass at Saint Nicholas. Perhaps the most important thing he took away from his accident was that it helped him to understand the concept that “suffering was the cross,” which ultimately brought him closer to God. He could see now that “suffering was a part of life,” and that “nobody escapes this world unscathed.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  SUFFERING OF THE SOUL

  This ministry is very hard, but I thank God because it has allowed me to grow very much. Being in touch with people who are suffering can be an advantage, because they can somehow teach you a lot about patience and a real Christian life. In this way I feel privileged, even if it is very hard to be so in touch with the world of suffering.

  —Father Carmine De Filippis

  What you are saying is worthless!” the guttural voice growled at Father Carmine.

  The Capuchin stood with his right hand on Sister Janica's forehead while in his left he held his crucifix against the back of her neck. She howled in pain.

  Father Gary sitting a few feet away kept his eyes trained on the nun's face. He'd seen a number of exorcisms in the two weeks since her last visit—including several dramatic ones in which he heard the gruff, demonic voice speak—but he was still struck by the violence of Sister Janica's reaction to the prayer.

  “I am stronger!” the deep voice bellowed. Sister Janica took several strained breaths that sounded more like screeches, “Heeeeeeeee! Heeeeeeee! Heeeeeeeee!” She bared her teeth.

  “Adiúro te, maledicte draco, in nomine Domini nostri Iesu Christi eradicate et effugàre ah hoc plàsmate Dei,” recited Father Carmine. [I adjure you, accursed dragon, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, to eradicate yourself and depart from this creature of God.]

  Again the voice exploded: “Really! Who do you think you are? You can't make me do anything! We are many!”

  Father Carmine continued, undeterred, “Ipse Christus tibi imperat, qui te de supérnis caúórum in inferiora terra; demérgi prcecépit.” [Christ himself commands you who enjoined you to be cast down from the heights of heaven into the lower parts of the earth.] Again he repeated imperat a few times, accentuating it as he did, “ímmmm-paaa-rat. ímmmm-paaa-rat.”

  Sister Janica screamed, “You think so?”

  “Illum métue, qui in Isaac immolàtus est, in Ioseph venúmdatus, in agno occisus, in hómine crucifixus, deinde inférni triumphàtor fuit. Da locum Christo, in quo nihil invenisti de opéribus tuis,” intoned Father Carmine calmly. [Fear that one, who was sacrificed in place of Isaac, who was sold in place of Joseph, who was killed in place of the lamb, who was crucified in place of man, and then was triumphant over hell. Give place to Christ, in whom you have found nothing of your works.]

  Sister Janica's demeanor suddenly shifted from snarling and pride-ful to whimpering and whining. “Basta,” she begged, in an almost inaudible whisper. “Stop. Please stop.” She began to cry and curl up into a fetal position in the chair.

  Father Carmine paid no attention to this change in tactics. “Humillare sub poténti manu Dei.” [Be humbled under the powerful hand of God.] He repeated the word humillare, drawing it out in a slightly deeper tone, “humiliaaaaare.”

  “Basta!” the voice screamed, once again becoming enraged. “Don't you know who you are talking to?”

  Father Carmine put a few drops of holy water on his fingers and pinched the bridge of her nose. She immediately thrashed wildly, shoving at Father Carmine and slamming herself backward into the wall repeatedly. Her companion and Father Carmine tried to hold her, but she was too strong.

  Unable to stand on the sidelines any longer, Father Gary tossed his Ritual book aside and jumped into the fray. He worried that she was going to hurt herself or possibly even Father Carmine. He threw himself between the chair and the wall. Sister Janica pushed back with such incredible strength that all he could do was keep her from pounding a hole in the wall with her head.

  For nearly twenty minutes, he struggled to hold her back. When it was over, everyone was exhausted. When Father Gary glanced down at the metal chair, he was surprised to see the back legs were completely bent out of shape.

  AFTER HIS THIRD WEEK, Father Gary had begun to recognize some of the Latin words of the Ritual and was generally only a few lines behind Father Carmine, keeping one eye on the page and another on the reactions of the victim. Usually, Father Carmine prayed fifteen to twenty minutes per person, but this varied—some got a simple blessing, while the more stubborn cases, such as Sister Janica, might go on for the better part of an hour.

  Since there is no time limit specified in the Ritual, Father Gary wanted to know how Father Carmine knew when to stop. In the beginning he'd just assumed that an exorcist followed the prescribed prayers all the way to the end—including the litany, the Gospel readings, and the actual exorcism prayers. Instead, the reality proved very different.

  “When the situation is bad, when you are dealing with a possession, in those cases you cannot pray for just fifteen or twenty minutes. It's not enough,” Father Carmine would later tell him. “It also depends on how much time you have or the person has, as well as on their ability to resist the prayer.”

  “But how can you tell when they have reached that point?” Father Gary wondered.

  “You know it, you see it,” Father Carmine assured him, “and you see that the person can't take it anymore; they are in pain, worn out.”

  Most of the people Father Carmine saw had what Father Gary would characterize as “minor reactions,” such as coughing or yawning. However, he did see some more dramatic cases. One of these involved a wholesome-looking brother and sister, both in their mid-twenties, whom Father Carmine exorcised together. During the Ritual the woman howled and groaned, her eyes rolling back into her head, while the brother made noises similar to a moose. Each had dry heaves and spit up frothy foam. Their mother, who had accompanied them, used her handkerchief to carefully wipe off the spittle. The sight of her lovingly caring for her children, who had been reduced to a subhuman level, moved Father Gary tremendously.

  When he asked Father Carmine about this case, the Capuchin responded that while it is rare, people can be hit with the same curse, and they can then be prayed over simultaneously. There was also the issue of time. On the night that he saw them, the waiting room was once again filled to capacity.

  Another case, involving a career woman in her forties, proved to be violent as well. Father Gary suspected something immediately when the woman—who appeared to have stepped out of a boardroom— entered and eyed him suspiciously. Following her into the room, Father Carmine wasted no time, sprinkling her with holy water almost before she sat down. The woman reacted instantaneously. She grabbed the wooden chair and swung it at Father Carmine, smashing it against the wall. Father Gary, along with the woman's companion, were forced to jump in to keep her from trying it again.

  In yet a third case, a mild-mannered housewife who had baked a cake for Father Carmine was transformed into a grunting beast, swearing at Father Carmine and saying in Latin, “We will never leave her!” only to smile politely at everyone when the exorcism was over fifteen minutes later.

  The diverse reactions amazed Father Gary. He was learning that every demon has his own “personality,” even to the point that an exorcist can recognize him. Father Carmine told him that demons apparently vary their reactions from one exorcist to the other, so that if two exorcists pray over the same person at different times, they will see different resp
onses. Or exorcists may experience the same exorcisms differently. Father Gary would have such a thing happen to him a few weeks later when he was witnessing an exorcism along with an American exorcist from Indianapolis. During the exorcism, Father Gary had the overwhelming sensation that the room was suffocatingly hot, while the priest from Indianapolis smelled a terrible “overpowering” stench.

  Occasionally, Father Carmine would turn to him and fill him in on the history of the case. “This person has been coming to me for three years and is afflicted by a curse,” or “this person has trouble studying, thanks to the demon.” Though few and far between, these little snapshots allowed Father Gary to piece together the tattered lives of some of the people who sought Father Carmine's help. Most, he learned, had either been involved in the occult or were victims of a curse.

  EVER SINCE THE LESSON delineating the causes of possession, Father Gary had pondered how to accurately assess whether a person was suffering from a curse. To him, the symptoms bordered on superstition.

  One woman complained to Father Carmine that her marriage had failed because of a curse. As Father Gary watched, however, it was clear to him that Father Carmine didn't believe her; and instead of praying the Ritual, he'd performed a simple blessing and admonished her not to believe in such notions.

  Later Father Carmine explained that such cases are common and warned, “You must never believe when a person says to you ‘I have a curse on me,’ In the majority of the cases, it's not true. Especially if another person told them that they were cursed, never, never give credence to this other person's words. The people who have a real problem will never tell you that the cause is demonic. Usually it is the last thing they think about.” And even if Father Gary suspected a curse at work, Father Carmine cautioned him to proceed slowly and prudently. “If you think the person might be cursed or have a problem, simply do a quick blessing over them. Tell them to calm down, that you are going to say a simple blessing, or pray the Ritual under your breath so they don't hear. If you told the person, ‘Yes, it's true, you've got a curse on you and now I am going to exorcise you,’ you could do huge damage to their psyche.”