The Exorcism of Emily Rose

I saw this movie the past weekend with Beth. (But Jon, don't you live in College Station, which is several states away from Atlanta?) The movie is interesting. It really creeped me out and made me long for the days when saying the rosary at home was an everday activity.

I attended grade school at the Incarnate Word Academy (or The Academy, for those in the know). In the seventh grade, a priest by the name of Fr. Herron would come in to talk with us every now and then. Typically, he would tell us his ghost stories. These stories though, which wasn't obvious at the time, were pretty much vehicles for warning us against the dangers of the occult, devil-worship, or what have you.

Once he told the story of a priest who would frequently be overwhelmed with his study late into the night. He studied alone, in a creaky, old house relying solely upon candlelight to aid his vision. He was a holy man of famed repute for his skills as a theologian. One night, while reading on the signs and symbols of the early Church, this priest came across something very curious. He was spurred by such curiousity that he called a friend and colleague in hopes of collaboration in an effort to confirm his dark suspicions.

His friend, using his sound priestly instincts, warned the priest against putting too much stock in the material that he was currently reading. He warned him against exploring such tenebrous realms. The paganism found therein could have extraordinarily dire consequences. The priest mechanically agreed to his suggestions, but his own curiousity continued to gnaw and ache at his very soul. He wished to experience for himself the mystic, incredible power that the texts outlined for him in great detail. For years, the priest had been absorbed in fruitless meditation, He found that his concentration was lacking, with the exception of his innate ability to become absorbed in study.

The chants and ritual all seemed so simple. The texts promised great mysteries would be revealed to him through the course of intense meditation. He began one night with great trepidation in his heart. Finally the warnings he had received through his friend began to sink in. Slowly, he reopened the by now familiar text. His hand shook greatly. He began. The chant sounded in his head like a thousand walls crashing to the ground. Immediately, he felt as though he was right in exploring these dark rites. Blood started shooting out his nose and ears. The last thing he saw was a flaming pentacle appear floating before his very eyes. The medic would declare this the result of massive hemorrhaging of the brain.

But we know better, don't we?

So, my reproduction of that story is very poor (a tenuous one at best). What stuck with me though was how stern he looked at each of us when telling us to never, ever mess with anything dealing with the occult or the devil or whatever....because it is REAL! That's an intense moment for a seventh grader to have. I was honestly scared shitless after that (trust me, the story as told by him was much scarier and had a billion times better details).

I had bought an oujia board approximately a month before that incident. I went home and threw it away.

Word of the Day:

afflatus \uh-FLAY-tuhs\, noun:
A divine imparting of knowledge; inspiration.