So they came to the other side of the lake, into the country of the Gerasenes. As he stepped ashore, a man possessed by an unclean spirit came up to him from among the tombs where he had his dwelling. He could no longer be controlled; even chains were useless; he had often been fettered and chained up, but he had snapped the chains and broken the fetters. No one was strong enough to master him. And so, unceasingly, day and night, he would cry aloud among the tombs and on the hill-sides and cut himself with stones. When he saw Jesus in the distance, he ran and flung himself down before him, shouting loudly, "What do you want with me, Jesus, son of the Most High God? In God's name do not torment me." (For Jesus was already saying to him, "Out, unclean spirit, come out of this man!") Jesus asked him, "What is your name?" "My name is Legion," he said, "there are so many of us." And he begged hard that Jesus would not send them out of the country. Now there happened to be a large herd of pigs feeding on the hill-side, and the spirits begged him, "Send us among the pigs and let us go into them." He gave them leave; and the unclean spirits came out and went into the pigs; and the herd, of about two thousand, rushed over the edge into the lake and were drowned. (Mark 5:1-13)
The vision of the mind is often fitfully obstructed by thoughts and images projected from its unconscious depths. These are like wayward clouds that intercept the constant rays of the sun and cast their shadow on the ground. How frequently is an attempt at pure contemplation in the silence of God subverted by the emotional intrusion of ill-digested memories that impinge themselves upon the mind and will not be dislodged! How often also is the attention we ought to be giving to another person disrupted by material from the unconscious that brings with it a distasteful odour of past reminiscence! This casts its shadow on the present moment and robs the conversation of its tranquil intensity. The mind is all too often a seething cauldron of unhealed memories of past failure that blight our present equanimity and condemn us to future inadequacy, if not complete impotence. The names of the legion of hosts that possess the unquiet mind are anxiety, fear, envy, resentment, anger, lust, pride, suspicion and ill-will. We have inherited them as part of the conditioning we underwent during the formative years of our upbringing, and their number is steadily increased by the sordid life we live and our unsatisfactory relationships with other people.
Every action brings its corresponding reaction. The law of relationships is very plain. "Pass no judgement, and you will not be judged. For as you judge others so you will yourselves be judged, and whatever measure you deal out to others will be dealt back to you" (Mat. 7:1-2). St Paul expands on this theme of retribution, "Make no mistake about this: God is not to be fooled; a man reaps what he sows. If he sows seed in the field of his lower nature, he will reap from it a harvest of corruption, but if he sows in the field of the Spirit, the Spirit will bring him a harvest of eternal life" (Gal. 6:7-8). The importance of confessing our sins in order to obtain free forgiveness from God has already been discussed; there can be no permanent healing while the mind is clouded by existential guilt, by which I mean a feeling of guilt for a sin that has been deliberately committed and whose repercussions disturb the psychic atmosphere. But the mind is a seething mass of conflicting emotions. We have both sinned and been sinned against. Much sin is the result of the resentment and distrust that have arisen inside ourselves from injustice we have suffered and betrayal we have undergone at the hands of those whom we had innocently trusted. The emotional contortions of a darkened mind cannot be easily fathomed, let alone healed. Confession cannot become meaningful until the mental contents have been sorted out and analysed with clear, rational discernment.
It is from this cesspit of unassimilated emotional debris that the evil actions of men emanate. What we ourselves have failed to obtain we tend to covet in others. What we lack we envy in our neighbour. What lies beyond our reach we will strive to demolish in someone more gifted than ourselves, in the process seeking to destroy, if not his life, then at least his reputation. There is, I believe, a radical destructive tendency in human nature which, if released, could reduce the whole world to chaos, undoing God's own creative act of the beginning of time. This dark, demonic force shows itself disconcertingly when we gloat over the fall of the righteous and speak evil of those whom the world esteems. The naked pleasure that many of the spectators at Calvary showed as Jesus suffered his final humiliation on the cross is matched throughout all ages by the glee with which minority groups have been persecuted because of their racial origin, religious belief or style of life. If this persecution can be carried out in the name of God or common morality, the satisfaction is all the greater. It is indeed an enormous relief to project one's own inner disorder on to a helpless victim, who becomes a scapegoat. But the hatred so generated will pursue its own malign momentum in the collective psychic atmosphere long after its victim has been disposed of and destroyed.
The origin of evil is itself something of an enigma. Some believe it is essentially an absence of goodness, and that it has no substantive existence of its own. The barbarity of man to his fellows, epitomized in the unsurpassed cruelty of the concentration camps of our own century, suggests that there is more to evil than a mere absence of goodness; it seems to have its own powerful identity even if its end is negative. Others attribute evil to ignorance, often rather glibly; the calculated tortures that punctuate not a few personal relationships as well as the prison camps already alluded to, point not so much to ignorance as to the unqualified enjoyment some warped personalities derive from hurting their fellow creatures. In the perversion of sadism this enjoyment has strong sexual overtones. The evil that has been inflicted on one group will very probably be visited later by them on others weaker than they, as they strive for the protection that power appears to provide. This vicious circle will continue until human consciousness undergoes a radical change in perspective; thus deliverance from the power of evil is a vital part of the ministry of healing, but is often not confronted directly in this light.
It would seem that evil has a collective origin; and arises from an abuse of the free will God has bestowed on his rational creatures. Its ultimate origin may indeed stem from ignorance - as symbolized in the story of the Fall, where Adam and Eve chose the knowledge of good and evil on a separative, acquisitive human level, rather than eternal life in God, from whom all wisdom comes. When we set ourselves up privately apart from others, rivalry and hostility are inevitable by-products of our individualistic endeavours until we grasp the truth that our own well-being depends on that of the society around us, and that success on a separative level is ephemeral and illusory. It is in giving our unique contribution to the whole that we cease to be a small, separate unit and become instead a vital part of the community. And then life in eternity opens up its welcome embrace even to us, the least of mortals. But once we have entered on the separative path, the consequences of our actions mount up within us and are discharged into the psychic atmosphere in which we live our inner life and communicate most intimately with those around us. The statement sometimes made that thoughts are things, though facile, has a real truth behind it. Our perverse inclinations poison the atmosphere around us, and if unredeemed can have an adverse effect on those who follow us on the path of life. On occasions these thought processes can assume a tangible form, and as such may be sensed by those who are sensitive psychically. These apparitions are, however, merely the tip of an iceberg of psychic debris that infests the inner world of aspiration, thought and relationships in which we live most vibrantly and from which the ultimate scale of values is derived. It is as a person thinks in the depths of his being, the soul, that marks his character and his relationships with others.
Evil cannot be spirited away by shallow rationalization. Each generation may give it a new name according to a current vogue in psychological or sociological thought, but in the end the evil tendency has to be isolated, exorcised and then redeemed. There are in this respect two practical aspects of evil; that which emanates directly from a person as the result of a moral disorder within him, and that which infests society as a whole, from which it may be concentrated on especially vulnerable people. This vulnerability depends on the person's innate psychic constitution and his family and cultural background. The two work closely together: even a very psychically sensitive person is unlikely to be the receptacle of evil forces so long as he lives an upright, morally aspiring life. In this respect membership of a worshipping community, one whose inner sight is directed to the Deity however he may be known, is of great protective value. In the end the moral law is obeyed, not by the fear of retribution in the event of one's being caught and unmasked by the stern, rather impersonal forces of justice in a community, but by a deeper love for all creation. St Paul spoke truly when he said that the whole law is summed up by love (Rom. 13:10); it is fulfilled in loving concern to all our neighbours. Indeed, the deliverance of a person from evil impulses - whether these stem from within him or have invaded him from without - is essentially a labour of love, an attitude that sees the other person as infinitely valuable and is prepared to give up everything for him.
Love is very different from sentimental effusiveness in which moral judgement is suspended so that the most evil actions are condoned, perhaps after being conveniently explained in terms of background and heredity. Love is a direct, fearless confrontation with the other person in which the totality of his inner life is accepted and exchanged in trust. Then comes the judgement, and this is passed by the person himself, perhaps acting in collaboration with the minister of healing. When Jesus attended the revelries of the lower strata of his society, he was performing a supreme healing act. It is probable that even he did not see it in this light, for if he had been too solicitous about the moral well-being of the revellers, an unpleasant aura of sanctimony would have intruded itself to the detriment of a perfect relationship between himself and the others. A perfect relationship is gauged by its transparency, that nothing need be hidden and the heart is completely open. In the open heart God shows himself even in the person of a very great sinner. The tragedy of the sinner is that his habitual attitude of selfishness obstructs the living God within, whereas those who aspire to a nobler way of life are increasingly open to the divine source inside themselves.
The healing Jesus performed in his social engagements was simply that of giving his essence to all who would receive it. Though he knew the baseness of the life of a prostitute, a drunkard or a dishonest tax-gatherer, he did not associate the trade or the weakness with the person he was then confronting. What he saw was a child of his Father, one who had fallen lamentably from his high calling as a son fashioned in the divine image, but one who nevertheless was a brother. To be with Jesus was to receive love, a love that penetrated to the depths of the personality and called the person once more to fulfil the divine imperative within him. This imperative is always the same: a limitless goodness comparable with that of our heavenly Father (Mat. 5:48). This goodness is made manifest in unconditional love, as the preceding sentences of the Sermon on the Mount make quite clear. It was the virtuous who often felt most threatened by Christ, because outer moral rectitude can be devoid of a deeper compassion for the pariahs of society. A morality without love soon deteriorates into a zeal for condemnation and persecution; indeed, evil flourishes best in such a milieu because it can hide behind the bastions of propriety and religion, even the name of the Deity.
Evil tendencies have therefore to be uncovered, preferably by the loving insight of the one who ministers healing; it is here that counselling and healing converge into the simple point of transfiguration. Once the evil has been acknowledged it should be given to God in prayer; the invoked presence of Jesus in the imagination can be of great help in this transaction to those who are committed Christians, but a great deal depends on the person's temperament. The minister of healing should share in the burden with the sinner, helping to relieve him of the terrible incubus of inner darkness in silent contemplation. This work of intimate psychic support is the crown of the healing process, and it may be consummated by the laying-on of hands as a sacramental gesture of the downpouring of the Holy Spirit on the personality now disembarrassed of its evil tendency. At this stage a confession is valuable; the confessor need not be a priest, but he must be a person of love and moral stature capable of bearing the substance confessed and interceding with God on the sinner's behalf We have already considered St James' advice in respect of the sick, of confessing our sins to one another, praying for one another and expecting healing (Jas. 5:16). In all this work scrupulous reticence is essential, comparable with the trust invested in a doctor who may be called on to hear the deepest secrets of a patient's life. It follows that no one should enter the healing ministry until he has attained that degree of discretion not to become entangled in the private life of the person he is serving and that moral excellence not to take advantage of anyone who puts himself under his care.
Love is quiet and effective in its embracing, healing activity. It cannot force itself on the object of its concern; it can only wait to be summoned, since it does not invade the personality or wear down the will of the one in need of help. When a person steadfastly refuses to confront the corruption within him or else simply rationalizes it away in terms of his past background, he will remain in bondage to it. So long as one clings voluntarily to a past attitude one remains subject to all its limitations and constraints. Christ himself cannot act against a person's will; he can only stand patiently and wait to be called. But when he is called, he immediately takes control of the situation and will not relinquish it until complete healing has been attained. This means that love is strong and directive; it will never let go even if it has to force the beloved to see the truth of the situation. The relationship between God and the Jews is a perfect demonstration of this truth in the whole sequence of the Old Testament. On a more personal, universal level Christ continues this work in the new dispensation. This forcing of the beloved to face the reality of his sinfulness and the consequences that have flowed from it in terms of ruined opportunities, broken relationships and shattered health is of the essence of deliverance from personal evil. Relationships are an especially valuable gauge of one's inner life: the two attitudes that are especially important in destroying them are insensitivity and treachery. There can be no inner healing so long as either of these prevail; insensitivity shields us from the living power of the Holy Spirit, while treachery separates us from the joyous community of life that is brought together by the Holy Spirit.
There is, however, a more collective aspect of evil that has already been mentioned. Evil inclinations pollute the psychic atmosphere, and sometimes they are attached to discarnate entities on the other side of death, which is in all probability, on the lower levels, much like our present life in general tone. This is where the ministry of deliverance becomes an important aspect of the work of healing. In Jesus' time this ministry was accepted without question, but nowadays the tendency is to attribute all perverse inclinations to the person himself and dismiss as illusory any source of interference outside the personal psyche that does not reach it in a rational or sensory way. On the whole this tendency is to be welcomed as it dispenses with much thought process that smacks of primitive superstition. Nevertheless, there are occasions when an outside influence does appear to be at work in causing internal havoc in a person already subject to mental or emotional disturbance, and the disposal of this mischievous influence can lighten the burden of the afflicted one considerably. The work of sensing such an influence is specialized, being the prerogative of a person with the gift of discernment of spirits. Some people have this psychic sensitivity as a natural endowment, whereas others appear to acquire it as they grow in spiritual maturity. The second way is preferable, because the discernment develops as a gift of spiritual grace, an acquisition on the rungs of the spiritual ladder. But the naturally gifted psychic is not to be discouraged, let alone discountenanced. Many people with a natural healing gift come into this category. What is required in such an innately sensitive person is a life of spiritual aspiration with the three beacons of prayer, worship in a believing community and service to the world outside, leading him on to a full encounter with God and with himself. If these prerequisites of the spiritual life are ignored or taken lightly, the gift may well become contaminated by the acquisitiveness of the personal ego and the personality itself infested by dark demonic powers emanating from the psychic realm.
The question of what St Paul calls "our fight, which is not against human foes, but against cosmic powers, against the authorities and potentates of this dark world, against the superhuman forces of evil in the heavens" (Eph. 6:12), always evokes strong feelings. The humanistic type of religionist tends to scoff at the concept of powers of evil in realms beyond human experience; he usually also has considerable difficulty in believing in life after death of the physical body. The enthusiastic exorcist, on the other hand, tends to see all difficulties and disappointments as the fruit of the attack of dark forces on the powers of light. The devil, however we may portray him - and he is a convenient symbol at the very least for the forces of darkness in and around us that would lead to general destruction if given free rein - has a cosmic power, but in the end all things work together for good for those who love God (Rom. 8:28). The risen man in Christ learns the supreme art of loving his enemies and praying for his persecutors (Mat. 5:44). This is no permissive tolerance but a warm compassion that sees all things potentially redeemed by the love of Christ and renewed by the power of the Holy Spirit. The ancient Jewish understanding that God is the master of good and evil should always be borne in mind: "I am the Lord, there is no other; I make the light, I create darkness, author alike of prosperity and trouble" (Isa. 45:7). The downpouring of darkness and trouble on the world is no doubt the result of secondary causes related to the ignorance and perverted will of the creature, whether angelic, human or of some other order, but God is in ultimate control and can be called on for help by the action of prayer. This essential spiritual practice re-aligns the will, so that we cease to do evil and start to do good, as the prophets of old were constantly exhorting the Jews.
St Paul says, "Adapt yourselves no longer to the pattern of this present world, but let your minds be remade and your whole nature thus transformed. Then you will be able to discern the will of God, and to know what is good, acceptable and perfect (Rom. 12:2). This process of remaking of the mind is effected by the humility of self-awareness and the ardent aspiration of rapt prayer. And then the gift of discernment is made manifest and sharpened to knife-edge discrimination. As one grows in spiritual light, so the other person becomes as close to one as one's own soul; indeed, the love of neighbour as of self reaches its final fulfilment - not as a fleeting rapture, but as a constant awareness. The growth into the knowledge of God's love brings us to the heart of all suffering creation. As we share in Christ's persistent agony - until the end of the world of separation - so we bring his compassion and light to all who suffer and are disfigured in body, mind and soul.
In this way the sinner is loved as oneself and the sin banished to the world beyond our knowing where God's healing grace may be bestowed even on that perverted quality. In the ministry of deliverance the invading entity is called out in the name of God the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. But it is not simply left to perish - if indeed this were possible - in the outer darkness. It is directed in the name of love and by the power of the uncreated light of God to enter that place in the world beyond death that God has prepared for it in his infinite caring. The story of the pigs into which the evil spirits were let loose, which prefixed this chapter, and their tumultuous rush into the lake where they were drowned is surely only the outer manifestation of an awesome, indeed terrible, event. In the depths into which pigs and spirits were alike directed one may be sure that the love of God was not in abeyance. As we read in Psalm 139:8, "If I climb up to heaven, thou art there; if I make my bed in Sheol, again I find thee." God's omnipresence is the surety of our salvation once we have had the faith and wisdom to call upon him in prayer. In an act of deliverance the departing entities must be directed to God's love, and the person (or place) now cleansed must be blessed, while the power of the Holy Spirit is called upon to fill him (or it) with new life.
Furthermore, the prayer of a loving group should continue unabated for some days after the deliverance. It is much easier to dislodge a focus of evil than to replace it with a presence of peace and love. The story of the entity who returns with seven more of its own kind, even worse than itself, which we have already considered, must never be far from the thoughts of anyone involved in the work of deliverance. The person now delivered must be instructed in the life of prayer, scripture-reading and worship in a devout community. He must also devote time to the service of those less fortunate than himself. These are the ways in which reinfestation is prevented, and they are clearly an integral part of the full ministry of healing.
It is usual to consider healing as something given to an afflicted person from outside, especially through the agency of one who ministers to him. But in fact this is merely the initial phase. The end of such preliminary healing is to awaken and strengthen the inner healing power of the person himself. The vis medicatrix naturae that infuses the living body has its subtler and more potent counterparts in the realms of the mind and the soul. Only when these too are activated can the person start to lead a new life of release from past destructive attitudes and enter into joyful participation in the present moment. The risen life, which we at least glimpse even now, is one of open receptivity to the glory of the present moment, which is our immediate taste of eternity. This open receptivity is blocked by evil, separative impulses within us that shut out the rays of God's love from the soul within. Therefore a fundamental aspect of healing work is the remaking of the mind and a transformation of the whole nature, to quote Romans 12:2 once more. Certainly the skills of psychotherapy can play an important part in this process, but before these can be fully effective there must be a firm confrontation of the forces of evil, both personal and communal. Only when these have been disposed of can the deeper healing of the mind be initiated.
It should finally be stated categorically that the possibility of evil infestation of the personality by outside forces does not annul the principle of personal responsibility. It is the disturbed person who is most liable to such invasion by outside forces, and until his own house is put in order once more, he will be subject to recurrent harassment from without. As Jesus says in respect of the return of the Master at the end of time, "Even if it is the middle of the night or before dawn when he comes, happy are they if he finds them alert. And remember, if the householder had known what time the burglar was coming, he would not have let his house be broken into" (Luke 12:38-39). If this applies to the believer at the Second Coming of the Lord, it is even more immediately pertinent to the invasion of a torpid, complacent personality by the forces of evil. These fester at the root of the unredeemed ego, and lurk menacingly in the defiled psychic atmosphere from which we all derive our daily emotional sustenance.
The people whom Jesus delivered from the power of evil - whether of an inner disposition or of an outer infestation - are the sacraments of a new order of men with unclouded minds and radiant vision. They reveal the "right mindfulness" so stressed by the Buddha some six hundred years before Christ's advent. In fact, one can work with one-pointed application to the moment in hand only when one's mind is cleansed of evil encumbrances. The grace of God initiates this healing work once the will to be changed has been activated. And then the life of "meditation in action" proceeds. At first it may be fitful and disturbed, but as one grows in spiritual proficiency and humility, so it remains with one to become a constant blessing. This is the path of ministering healing to a world so distraught with trivialities that it is seldom aware of the undying love of God.