Young people are listening to exorcists. The endless need for content in Catholic media, especially on podcasts, has led to a host of newly-minted celebrity exorcists—many of whom are humble, helpful priests, and some of whom seem, frankly, nuts.
People love to hear about evil. Mafia movies and shows do great business. True crime—at least since In Cold Blood—has been its own industry. And like the Bugsy Siegels or Charles Mansons of this world, demons need their chroniclers. Exorcists fit the bill.
This trend presents obvious problems.
Young people need faith. And exorcists, by sharing stories of the love of God, can help them come to faith. But when they become, essentially, performers, telling spooky stories while the cameras roll, exorcists can make the Church look ridiculous.
Young people need truth. And exorcists, by inviting people to take the spiritual world seriously, to consider God again, and to avoid evil, can help them to the truth. But when an exorcist sets himself up as an authority—especially when he uses his supposed authority to criticize Church teaching and discipline, or to lay burdens on people that the Church does not—he can wall people off from the most urgent truth: that the Church, not any one priest, is the sole trustworthy teacher of the way of salvation.
Young people need meaning. And exorcists, when they draw people away from dull materialism and into the high stakes of the spiritual life, can help them find meaning. But when the exorcist upsets people, acts as a prophet, or implies that the only “real” Catholicism is some dramatic life of extravagant spiritual feats, rather than a simple and sober life of love, they can lead people toward the false meaning of grandiose obsessions.
Evil spirits are powerful, and they prey on us where we are vulnerable. Celebrity is a vulnerability. It makes normal people weird. It can turn helpful people problematic. While exorcists have grand stories, we should not lead them into temptation by conferring too much celebrity on them.