No Sympathy for the Devil

  • The Gospel text for the day was familiar enough: Matthew 4, depicting the devil's threefold temptation of Jesus in the wilderness. But the Sunday sermon, delivered last week by New York's John Cardinal O'Connor, quickly became a headline grabber. To illustrate the reality of evil and give the biblical theme a contemporary twist, O'Connor recited what he termed "gruesomely realistic" portions of The Exorcist, the 1971 novel (and later film) that drew upon accounts of hundreds of exorcisms. Moreover, after Mass the Cardinal revealed to reporters that priests had been authorized to perform two exorcisms in his archdiocese over the past year. "As far as we know," he said, "they have been successful."

    That might have been enough for many preachers, but O'Connor wanted to give the devil his full due. He warned in his sermon that "diabolically instigated violence is on the rise" and asserted that heavy-metal rock music can "help trap people, especially teenagers," into dabbling in disgraceful Satanist practices. In particular, the Cardinal denounced rocker Ozzy Osbourne's tune Suicide Solution ("Wine is fine but whiskey's quicker/ Suicide is slow with liquor . . . Suicide is the only way out./ Don't you know what it's really about?").

    O'Connor's attack enraged Osbourne, a flamboyant performer who first won fame singing with a group called Black Sabbath. The singer's onstage artistry has included such excesses as biting the head off a bat. Osbourne, who has fended off a lawsuit claiming his songs prompted a youth to kill himself, fired off a telegram, informing the Cardinal that he had "insulted the intelligence of rock fans all over the world."

    Satanism? Exorcism? Was O'Connor seriously suggesting that demons were loose in the land? To be sure, the Cardinal did say in his sermon that demonic possession is "very rare," and that exorcisms are not conducted unless psychological or medical possibilities are first ruled out as explanations for extreme behavior. Still, the fact that they are performed at all seemed remarkable in an age when literal belief in demons is widely viewed by Roman Catholic theologians as a naive medieval holdover. (Among Protestants, exorcism is confined mostly to missionaries in areas where spirit-possession cults are common, and to Pentecostalists, many of whom make it a regular practice to cast out demons.)

    Although the New Testament includes numerous mentions of satanic activity and exorcisms, liberal theologians have all but scratched Old Scratch. Father Richard McBrien, chairman of the theology department at the University of Notre Dame, dismisses the idea of a personal archdemon as "premodern and precritical." Individuals tend to personify evil, he explains, "because we see it in people." But for sophisticates acquainted with sociology and other disciplines, says McBrien, "sin is now seen as something systemic, institutional and structural, as well as personal." Laments William Peter Blatty, author of The Exorcist: "The devil has been soft-pedaled and de- emphasized by the church." Absent the notion of a personal devil, of course, exorcism becomes an obsolete, in fact meaningless, exercise.

    Indeed, the practice has fallen on hard times in the wake of Vatican II. Candidates for the Catholic priesthood no longer pass through the minor order of exorcist en route to ordination. The official baptism ritual, which included an ancient exorcism formula ("Accursed devil, come forward and acknowledge your condemnation . . ."), today concentrates on asking God to / fill the child with his grace rather than expelling the power of darkness.

    Nonetheless, the official Roman Ritual still includes a rite of exorcism. The code of canon law includes rules for exorcism, specifying that only a bishop may authorize one. Rome still holds fast to belief in Satan: in a 1986 sermon, Pope John Paul insisted upon the reality of a personal devil and recognized the possibility of demonic possession. The secret draft for a forthcoming Catechism for the Universal Church, now being examined by the world's bishops, continues the traditional teachings about Satan and fallen angels.

    It is impossible to know exactly how many Catholic exorcisms occur these days, since, as one priest observes, "It's not a thing people talk about." In the ritual, a priest places his hand on a person's forehead and recites the prescribed words: "I cast you out, unclean spirit, along with every satanic power of the enemy, every specter from hell, and all your fell companions, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ." In addition to such ritual bouts, Catholic priests are occasionally called upon to pronounce blessings to ward off weird and possibly sinister occurrences. Just two weeks ago, for example, an Indianapolis priest uttered such prayers at the home of a teenage devil worshiper. The reason: objects kept moving about inexplicably.

    As that case illustrates, the practice of Satanism seems to be widespread in the U.S., even as the notion of Satan loses currency in the seminaries. Father Richard Rento of Clifton, N.J., who frequently speaks about Satanism among the young, first became involved when a 15-year-old student attempted suicide, saying he wanted to meet Satan. Explains the priest: "It has become my work to inform parents and children that Satanism is not a lark. It often means tragedy and death for the child and for others." In January 1988 a fixation upon Satan played a part in a New Jersey matricide-suicide case.

    Clergy are not the only professionals concerned about the problem. Judith Schechtman, a clinical social worker for the St. Louis police and the State of Missouri, says there is a dramatic increase in reports of serious, highly secretive satanic cults that practice bizarre rituals to cloak animal torture, drug abuse, pedophilia and child pornography. Such cases are unusual, she says, but extremely damaging to youths. "In the worst-case scenario, therapy can take years."

    Social worker Dale Trahan, a Chicago expert, believes pop Satanism, often inspired by heavy-metal music or games like Dungeons & Dragons, sometimes leads youths into the real thing. He notes that cults play upon the feelings of powerlessness that afflict millions of teens. Thus therapy seeks to improve social skills and build self-esteem.

    O'Connor joined a chorus of U.S. clergy and others concerned about the weirdness of some rock music and its potential for harm. Though some music has exploited satanic and occult themes, the religious crusaders are more concerned about other problems. The Rev. Donald Wildmon's American Family Association, based in Tupelo, Miss., is concentrating on vulgar, sadistic and violent sex songs. Tipper Gore's Parents' Music Resource Committee of Arlington, Va., especially decries records that foment contempt toward Jews, minorities and women.

    Is there, however, a direct causal relationship between heavy-metal music and Satanism, as Cardinal O'Connor contended? Father Rento, the New Jersey expert, does not make such a claim. But he does provide carefully couched support for O'Connor's concern. Music, says the priest, "is one of the factors helping to create a climate in which the hitherto unthinkable becomes thinkable."