A. calls from Germany, sounding dejected. His trip isn’t going the way he expected it to. Since he’s half-German, he’s always had the dream to take a vacation to the country of his heritage. He even—with lots of patience and perseverance—managed to get himself a German passport. If you know German bureaucracy, this is a small miracle.
This summer, he finally made his dream come true, by saving up enough money with his side job as a waiter at a ritzy Vermont resort. He even talked about moving to Germany and working there. In his mind, it was all but a done deal.
Now he doesn’t sound so excited. He says after a night of clubbing in Frankfurt with other young foreign tourists—drinking age in Germany is 16, clubbing age 18—he got mugged by a Syrian refugee. The guy punched him in the face and made off with his iPhone. He’s calling from his Airbnb host’s phone, asking me what to do.
I’m shocked and glad at the same time. This could have ended so much worse than with a black eye. Thank you, Jesus, for protecting my son from serious harm. He also still has his money, credit card, and plane ticket, so I tell him to lay low for the next few days and just come home.
Next, I call A’s friend J., who is house and pet sitting for us until K. gets back home, to see how he’s doing and to tell him what happened.
J. says the empty house feels a little spooky and that Winston the cat freaked him out the other night by jumping up at the window to be let in. I tell him, half-jokingly, that the house itself should be okay since it’s been blasted with Rosaries and sprinkled with holy water for the last year or so.
He instantly responds, and a two-hour conversation about paranormal and supernatural encounters ensues. Apparently, he is a natural sensitive, one of those people who can intuit the energy of places and people. He tells me that “if I feel that some place has a bad vibe, I get the heck out of there… and I’ve never been wrong.”
He says as a small child, he had an encounter in the woods while camping with his family. Something lured him into the forest, a little kid calling for him to come play. Then he came face to face with the caller—a humanoid creature with a nightmarish face that was perched high up in a tree and spoke first with the voice of a child and then with the voice of J.’s mother. He ran back to safety and refused to ever go camping again.
I tell him about my own encounters with things that go bump in the night (more details on my About page, if you’re interested) and suggest that he talk to a priest.
“Ever since I became a Catholic,” I tell him, “I don’t have to lie awake at night anymore, terrified that something may be coming to get me.”
It’s true. Even as a New Ager, I always knew that calling on Jesus protected people under demonic attack, but I also suspected (and rightfully so) that you had to really believe in him to get the full protection.
Many New Agers believe in Jesus, but their Christ is not the Christ of the Bible. The New Age Jesus never judges and doesn’t disapprove of any kind of behavior or lifestyle. He’s fine with whatever you do because he loves you. People who think that way tend to conveniently forget the parts of the Gospel where Jesus calls sinners to repent and “sin no more.”
As one woke woman claimed on Twitter (I paraphrase), “The real Jesus would be compassionate; he’d go along to the abortion clinic and hold the woman’s hand during the procedure.” I think you’d be surprised, lady.
Looking back, I can’t believe I used to think that way. Now that I’m not a New Ager or a phony Christian anymore, now that I’m all in, it’s such a relief to know that basically nothing bad can happen to me. Even if some evil spirit killed me (which, frankly, they can’t), I’d still be fine. I’d be with Jesus and VatiGod—or at least on the way to them, with a detour through Purgatory.
I learned from St. Ignatius of Loyola’s teachings—confirmed by personal experience—that the devil’s methods of turning people away from God are twofold:
1. Temptation. That usually takes the form of something you want very badly. Satan knows everything about you. Like the Facebook algorithms who can figure out what you like before you yourself are aware of it, he is a master at reading humans and their desires. But beware accepting his “generous gifts”; there are always strings attached.
2. Taking away hope. Depression, despair, hopelessness is what the devil wants us to feel. I’ll never forget the line in The Dialogue of St. Catherine of Siena where God tells her that even Judas could have been saved if he had believed in God’s mercy instead of giving in to utter despair.
I tell J. to consider becoming Catholic too, maybe take RCIA classes. Happily, he agrees to talk to Father J. I promise I’ll call and make arrangements for him. Please, God, let him be another one to be converted. I’ve done the preliminary work, but it’s out of my hands now.
I usually don’t comment on anything but I thought I’d share: J experience in the woods and my active imagination combined to freak me out. The pretty descriptive way you wrote it gave me nightmares for a few days. I can’t help but wonder what would have happened had he stayed, or why that thing was calling him. Thank God he’s ok!
Also wanted to let you know I’m thoroughly enjoying your blog :)
I don't know re: the encounters, but I always felt like I was divinely protected, even through all of those years as a New Ager. I felt very close to God, even then. Steubenville is awesome—Catholic paradise. :)