Do Unto Others Who Repel You

William Peter Blatty, author of The Exorcist, spoke with NPR around Halloween on the occasion of the 40th anniversary of the release of his book. Up to that time, I'd never read the book or heard him speak.

 

Listen to the interview here:
http://www.npr.org/2011/10/29/141683620/after-40-years-grisly-exorcist-book-gets-a-rewrite

The book and movie retained an evil tinge from my childhood. It was condemned by my church (you all know by now, Bethel Baptist Church in Erie, PA) and by Mrs Andrus, our Bible teacher at Bethel Christian School, who who said wonderfully dire things like "Satan must really be in his glory right now" ; i.e., "Don't you feel guilty for enjoying this spooky moment?," which we all of course did (and enjoyed it). Satanism and demonology were all the rage at the time, along with UFOs, Bigfoot, and all those delightfully mysterious things that capture a child's imagination.

Yet, Blatty said in the interview that he intended The Exorcist to be a story of faith. When I heard that, and coming as it did from what seemed to be a sensitive writer who'd thought a lot about it, I was intrigued, so I planned to listen to the book.

I'm nearing the end of the the audio book now, and I can't say enough good things about Blatty as a writer and narrator. If the topic weren't so devilish, I'd call it enchanting.[1]

Professor Oppewal taught me at Calvin College that most every piece of literature has a thematic passage. It may or may not be intentional on the author's part, but you can find it if you're paying attention.

I came across that thematic passage last night. During a break in the exorcism, Fr Karras is asking Fr Merrin why this is all happening, "Father, what's going on in there? What is it? If that's the Devil, why this girl?".

The story has hinted at the ancient Babylonian deity Pazuzu and Reagan's (Linda Blair's) use of a Ouija board, but the truth incorporates and transcends all these clues. Father Merrin says:

 

"I think the point is to make us despair, Damien - to see ourselves as animal, and ugly - to reject our own humanity - to reject the possibility that God could ever love us.[...] And there lies the heart of it, perhaps: in unworthiness [emphasis mine]. For I think belief in God is not a matter of reason at all; I think it finally is matter of love; of accepting the possibility that God could love us. [...] He knows... the Demon knows where to strike. [...] Long ago I despaired of ever loving my neighbor. Certain people repelled me. How could I love them? I thought. It tormented me, Damien; it led me to despair of myself, and from that, very soon, to despair of my God. My faith was shattered. [...] at last I realized that God would never ask of me that which I know to be psychologically impossible; that the love which He asked was in my will and not meant to be felt as emotion at all. Not at all. He was asking that I act with love; that I do unto others, and that I should do it unto those who repelled me, I believe, was a greater act of love than any other [emphasis mine]."[2] (Read more from this passage .)

I understand from another account that Max von Sydow (Fr Merrin) wanted some of this dialog in the film, and that it was indeed filmed, but director William Friedkin eventually edited it out, apparently thinking it was redundant, but probably also that it was a bit preachy. Blatty had also wanted to keep some of it in. Read more here.

There are entire lives lived inside that quote above, like Mother Teresa, and even my own dear Mrs Andrus, who couldn't have gotten past the dross to see gold.

[1]
I've finished the book and was pleased with how Blatty ended it. I won't ruin it if you haven't read it, but it did maintain Blatty's intent to present a story of faith. And if you've seen the movie and enjoyed it, Blatty's narration is a terrific treat you don't want to miss.

[2]
John Whitehead calls Blatty's writing "meat and potatoes prose," which I first interpreted as condescending, but it needn't be, if you imagine it as filling, nourishing, and tasty. Perhaps a story of faith should be precisely those things. Meat and potatoes are accessible.

I wouldn't use "meat and potatoes" to describe most writers I enjoy, Truman Capote for example, who is filling and satisfying in a different way, most definitely not "like eating an entire box of chocolate liqueurs at one go," but perhaps like eating one at a time as you turn each page.

(Incidentally, you should read Whitehead's entire article; I thought for example that the profanity and sacrilege in The Exorcist were gratuitous, but it's apparently typical of possessions, or psychological disorder, if you prefer.)

Started: 2012-03-01