Wrestling with Demons

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Demons and devils are the personification of evil. To think of demons is to imagine that misfortunes, temptations, and sufferings are caused, not by accident or by impersonal “forces of nature” but by sentient beings. Belief in demons arose from a time and place where it was assumed that all events and phenomena, good or bad, originated from a person. Demons were part of a worldview in which the universe was inhabited by a rich variety of unseen persons: angels, demons, saints, dragons, monsters, powers and principalities, thrones and dominions.

We no longer always assume that events and phenomena have their origin in persons; we believe in impersonal or abstract forces of nature. The unseen realm has been all but depopulated. Nature is morally neutral. Bad things “just happen.” Misfortune is just unhappy accident. Demons, it seems, have been given the metaphysical pink slip; we no longer need their services to explain evil. Humans, and perhaps God, are all that is left of the sentient beings in the universe.

This difference in worldview makes it difficult to understand the writings of Scripture and the early church. However strange those writings seem to us today, it is worth making the intellectual leap into their worldview. Early Christians spoke about demons in order to understand the mysterious source of evil. Belief in demons helped them explain a particular part of life that still puzzles us today. “Why do I do things I don’t want to do?”

The first Christians knew that the biggest evils start out small. Evil cuts through the heart of every man and woman; temptation is just around the corner. Evil does not only exist “out there” in genocidal maniacs, illegal immigrants, or politicians. Imagining demons as the source of evil can help us grasp and name evil, from the most egregious to the most subtle. Demon-talk shows us that the most visible and heinous evils are only magnifications of the smallest secret evils.

The same demon causes both the smallest prideful thought and genocide. He whispers in our ear, offering judgmental thoughts about our neighbor next to us. “That guy is really stupid,” he suggests. We enjoy thinking that we are better than our neighbor, and we can get in the habit of thinking like this. What starts as the demon’s provocation can become a habit. We begin to think that not only is that guy stupid, but other people too, whole groups of people, are stupid. This can progress until we think it’s a good idea to kill all the Jews, capitalists, or other scapegoated minority. Perhaps this is an oversimplification, but it seems that Jesus himself held this opinion. (Read, for example, the gospel of Matthew, chapter 5.)

Their way of imagining evil in the world has diagnostic and therapeutic credibility even if we are skeptical of its etiological usefulness. Demon-talk is the early Church’s ethical technology. Even if we are not solidly convinced on the demons existence, we can employ this technology. When I hear the demon whisper “That guy is really stupid” I can choose to indulge the thought and take fleeting pleasure in feeling superior to my neighbor. When I indulge this thought, it interferes with my own happiness. Alternatively, I can turn away from the thought and pray. Although I seem to be unable to stop the demon’s suggestions from entering in my thoughts, the Lord, who is victorious over the powers of evil, never fails to help me. The prideful thought against my neighbor begins to dissipate, and is replaced by love.

Thinking of demons and devils seems at first glance to be an outdated superstition. However, on  closer examination, this personification of evil may show us the way to overcoming stubborn thoughts and desires that work against our own best interests.

What's the use?

This is a photograph of a sloth.

One day Anthony, a monk, was overcome by thoughts of hopelessness and lack of motivation. He thought he'd give up his monastic life, and go get a job and get married. As he observed negative thoughts beginning to overwhelm him, he cried to the Lord, "I want to stay here and find salvation, but my thoughts keep suggesting that it's all futile. What's the use? How shall I be saved from these disturbing thoughts?"

Once again, an answer was presented to him. He saw a man sitting, weaving baskets, then getting up to pray. He continued to work and pray, work and pray. Anthony heard a voice, "This is what you should do to be saved from your disturbing thoughts." His hopelessness gave way to joy and hope. Anthony continued to work and pray, and watch over his heart, and his troublesome thoughts left him. He was saved from his anguish by a gentle vision giving him simple instructions for living.

When faced with temptation, Anthony had some choices. Should he give in to the negative thoughts that disturbed his peace, and urged him to give up the monastic life? Or should he simply "man up" and force the thoughts away? He knew that he was not strong enough to combat these thoughts on his own. He liked to tell other monks "Do not trust in your own righteousness." In other words, "You're not as strong, upright, and moral as you think you are. You need help, and so do I." Knowing the futility of fighting against temptation on his own strength, he neither gave in to his negative thoughts nor relied on his own strength to save him. He called out for help from the one who is strong enough to help--the Lord.

Seeing his own helplessness in the face of disturbing thoughts forced Anthony to rely on the Lord. Ironically, his helplessness was the gateway to victory over those temptations. Anthony liked to say to his fellow monks, "We all need temptations to be saved." Temptations, if we watch for them, provide an opportunity to ask God for help, and rely more fully on Him. Temptations can break down that harsh master, our own ego. Temptations can produce humility and compassion, and we need them to mature and become closer and more like Jesus Christ.

(Stories taken from Benedicta Ward. Sayings of the Desert Fathers: The Alphabetical Collection. Kalamazoo: Cistercian Publications, 1975, pp. 1-9.)