HARD TO EXPLAIN TALES
Story of a Boy Exorcist
In August 1985, I was in a Summer Irish language course in the west of Ireland.
I was 11 years old at the time. I was discussing the topic of water divining
with some teenagers at the house I was staying at. Equipped with a
clothes hanger,
I went out to test our ideas and see if I could detect water!
While I was
walking about, I got a pain in my ears. I had the feeling, I was being attacked
by the devil and that he was trying to possess me. I said a prayer "Christ help
me!" and then I rebuked myself for letting my imagination get the worst of me -
it must be just an indication of water. I went inside and called the others out
to see what they thought (I didn't mention my first guess). I was blindfolded
and sent around in circles looking for water. (They didn't take me very
seriously!)
Afterwards, when we went inside to a bedroom, I was dared to
hypnotize a 16 year
old guy. A tea towel was placed on my head and under some pressure from the
others and not wanting to be mocked again, I tried it. The guy who I will call
"Shane" (don't remember his name), laid back on the bed and started acting like
someone on their deathbed calling out to their family. It was very funny and
intriguing all at once. Then, he suddenly lurched up, his eyes glaring and with
a menacing growl like a cougar makes, he started walking towards the centre of
the room. As I was backing up, I tried "one, two, three, awake!" or some other
such words to get a person out of a trance.
The joke was over and he was frighteningly violent. He arched his back, stretched his head back and foam curdled
out of his teeth-braced mouth. A couple of guys stepped forward to restrain him
- he threw back one and punched the other in the chest (that lad stepped back
afraid of him, even though he was older and bigger). He turned towards me and in
a guttural voice shouted "You! You! You! Satan wants you! Satan wants you!" I
was so terrified. I side stepped behind others to avoid getting hit.
As he was
trying to squeeze between two others, he spoke feverously in another language,
Hebrew or Arabic maybe. Then as he repeated what he said before, he started
saying words I didn't know the meaning of, till the name "Beelzebub" was
mentioned. I understood he was listing the Legion. Finally, he said "Molock!" I
tried to ignore what he was saying, but he shouted it again twice more. I was
backed up against the wall and had a choice of either going for the door or
circling back into the room. I chose the latter, and once again he turned
and came for me. Sean, a 17 year old stood in front of me to protect me. Shane kicked him in the
groin and he crumbled to the floor in pain. Two others shielded me and put me
into the cupboard for protection.
Either they dragged Shane back to the bed or
he walked back, I don't know which, but he didn't get in. While I was in
the cabinet,
I imagined myself talking before a bishop and some priests, and the following
words came to mind; "Choose carefully, because you will have to give an account
of yourself!" I peeked out of the cupboard, Shane was sitting on the bed,
looking blankly between his knees, seething with anger. I had enough, I walked
out of the room with Shane shouting after me.
I lay on the bed of my room across
the corridor, crying, praying and apologizingfor my sins. I asked Our Lady to
protect me. I had a sense that the year 2000 was connected to this and I had a
job to do. A guy came in and told me to go back to the school for the afternoon.
He said they would keep him there and that he might snap out of it later. I
hesitantly agreed. I took to my BMX
(bicycle) with a coat hanging from my head not wishing
to delay a second. Half way into the town, I heard the shouting of the group,
warning me to watch out. Shane had broken
away and was chasing me on a racer. He
was catching up to me quickly. I thought, short of a miracle, I was going to get
killed. I then saw Sean chasing Shane from behind, he caught up
and
cycled alongside and kicked Shane into a grassy ditch.
I stopped and looked back
to see whether it was a joke. Shane got back up and looked at me proudly with a
"why-should-I-run-when-I-can-attack-you-at-any-time" look in his eyes. I
continued on into town. I agonized over what to do with him, do I call in an
exorcist? What if it's a joke and they make an even bigger mockery of me? If I
do nothing, what if he kills himself, me or others?
The answer came the next day,
Shane came over to me in the room it began in and said simply "help me!" "Ok, I
will!" I asked everyone to hold his arms, legs and body. I stretched out my
right hand and prayed silently while he was cursing me and growling. I imagined
Jesus healing a sick person, his hand outstretched, "It is not the well who need
a physician but those who are sick. I have come not for the virtuous, but for
sinners." At that moment, I thought, "Why are you still here Satan? Can't you
see it's the same [my faith] all the way down?" I then said out loud, "I command
you (I said the Irish word "sibh" in my mind meaning "you plural")
in the name of Christ to come out of him!" With that the roaring stopped and
peace returned.
I kept what happened to me a secret. In the year 2000, I was
invited out of the blue to give a diocesan talk about my faith at a Mass to
celebrate the Jubilee. Nobody but me got the irony or my high emotion, when I
began the talk with "Your Lordship, assembly of priests, ladies and
gentlemen..." Two years later, I was in a Catholic library and deciding to
settle my doubts about what happened, I looked in an old book to see if Molock
appeared in lists of demons. It did, but it was spelt "Moloch". It was a demon
or pagan god associated with child sacrifice in ancient Canaanite
history.
This is a true story.
-Unsigned.