Monthly Archives: June 2018

Exorcist III: A Lengthy Consideration of Certain Points

(As the title warns, this is an unusually lengthy rumination on The Exorcist and the late William Peter Blatty’s self-directed movie sequel to his original novel.)

There seem to be quite a few misapprehensions about William Peter Blatty’s filming of his novelistic Exorcist sequel, Legion. This essay hopes, as best it can, to re-adjust some of the prevalent distorted takes on the film.

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1. The demon from The Exorcist – both the novel and the film – is definitely still active in the Exorcist III film – “he” is referred to by James Vennamun/the Gemini Killer (played by Brad Dourif) as “the Master…on the other side”, and also as a “certain party” who trapped Father Damien Karras in his own body, thus forcing the priest to watch as the Gemini mutilates and kills people who were involved in Karras’s earlier exorcism.  “…Oh…. Let’s call it revenge”, says the Gemini. All too frequently, viewers claim that they have no idea of who the demon is, whereas the screenplay makes it clear that it is the same demon of the original novel and film. “He” is out for revenge against Father Damien Karras, and others who were involved in the demonic possession of Regan MacNeil.

During the exorcism, the Gemini personality disappears and is fully replaced by the demon itself, who tells exorcist Father Paul Morning, “This time, you’re going to lose” (exactly what the same demon told Father Merrin in Blatty’s original Exorcist novel – and therefore a confirmation that we are dealing with the same demon), and who has been tormenting police lieutenant William Kinderman (played in the original by Lee J. Cobb, in the present production by George C. Scott). The demon indeed actually does emerge as itself alone at the climax of the film to taunt Morning and Kinderman. The demon still remains the supernatural villain of the piece, just as it did in Blatty’s original story and in the Blatty-Friedkin film.

2. Kinderman is always, only, seeing Karras’s/Miller’s face and body. Only the audience sees the Gemini/Dourif as Miller and Dourif alternately perform the role.

We know this because the Gemini asks Kinderman, “Look at me, Lieutenant, and tell me what you see”, and Kinderman replies, “I see a man who looks like Damien Karras”, to which Vennamun furiously replies that he is James Vennamun, the Gemini Killer. This is later confirmed because Kinderman requests a dental records-profile of Karras – whom he can see is the only physical entity in Cell 11.

So the film contains: Only one body, occupied at first by two personalities – Karras and the Gemini – and at the end, after the Gemini personality has receded – only by Karras and the original demon itself. Kinderman can only look on with shock and dread…because,  as the Gemini speaks, he succeeds in convincing the detective that the he, the Gemini, has truly, really, come back to life as a parasite living within Karras’s body … and, even more shockingly, is now forcing Karras’s resuscitated body to “rip and tear and mutilate” various victims.

3a. The ceiling-crawling old lady is not the lady who is lurking behind the door. That lady is actually the Gemini-possessed patient with the bag carrying the wannabe Kinderman-killing surgical shears. In fact, both women are in the same scene: while the old lady ceiling-crawls, the nurse exits the door behind Kinderman, who finds that the “nurse” is possessed by the Gemini, and has incapacitated a real nurse and donned her uniform as a disguise so she can travel to the Kinderman residence incognito.

3b. The individual who attacks the nurse in the corridor is not a phantom, or a Christ statue come to life, as many viewers mistakenly believe. The figure is only one of the hospital patients who the Gemini temporarily possesses, for whatever reason covered by a white bed sheet, and wielding a pair of “missing” (Gemin-stolen) surgical shears.

4. The MAJOR change from the Exorcist and the Legion novels, vs. Exorcist III :

In the both the Exorcist and the Legion novels, protagonist Damien Karras has succeeded in saving Regan MacNeil – and has spiritually triumphed and gone on to his heavenly reward. End of story.

And, consistent with that theme, in the Legion novel, Karras is not at all present as a living personality. Assumptively, he is in heaven. Nor is he possessed, because he is not occupying his resuscitated body in the first place. Rather, it is only that empty carcass which the demon regenerates and which the Gemini inhabits. Karras himself, as a person or as  a soul, is not even there to be possesssed-and-saved.

However, for the Exorcist III film …the studio demanded an exorcism scene, on the principle that because they’re calling the film an Exorcist sequel, of course, it must contain an exorcism. This unexpected imposition caused Blatty to hire Jason Miller – who had recently become free to do the project – to replay the role of Damien Karras. So Blatty re-engineered his original story of Karras’ sacrificial heaven-tending death in the following way:

Instead of having Karras immediately going to heaven, Blatty invented the new scenario wherein the demon caught Karras’s soul while it was still “on his way out” of his battered body, and stuffed him back into his nearly-dead corpse – along with the recently-executed Gemini Killer.

That is the revenge that the Gemini talks about. Thus, the exorcism in the film has a twofold purpose: to expel the Gemini, AND to rescue Karras from the demon’s grip.

In fulfillment of this new scenario, the film’s climax presents two exorcists:

1) the official exorcist, Fr. Morning;


2) the unofficial “exorcist-by-gunshot” Detective Kinderman.

Thus, Karras, the former liberator of Regan MacNeil in the original story, is now himself the victim who needs rescuing. 

5. Regarding the supernatural “church invasion-distrubance” scene at the film’s opening, those flying bits and pieces are not locusts swarming into the church.

First – such a scene would, contrary to both reason and good taste, connect the film to the monstrous John Boorman production, Exorcist II: the Heretic, wherein locust swarms and a preternatural “Good Locust” largely and painfully figure.

Second – the objects in question are not insects, but rather street-and-sidewalk leaf debris, probably meant to be driven by “the Pazuzu wind” which in the first film starts to blow when Fr. Merrin confronts the Pazuzu statue across a rocky chasm.

Third, it is extremely likely that the scene as a whole is not to be taken literally, but rather as part of the opening narration, which itself seems to be an amalgam of the trapped Karras’s and the possessing Gemini’s garbled memories of the night of Karras’s “death”.

It is likely that the viewer is being invited to think of this opening narration as a kind of fever dream that is shared by both of the personalities – Damien Karras and James Vennamun/the Gemini – occupying the same resuscitated body. So it would seem doubtful that we are meant to take the debris-storm and the eye-moving crucifix as literal physical facts. If we do accept them as physical facts, this would be an unlikely case of the demon ineptly giving itself away – and that far too early and publicly by clumsily “outing” itself through an out-of-character, even ham-thumbed self-revelation.


The saintly priest’s soul has been trapped inside his own body and is the helpless witness of the Gemini’s depredations. It is Kinderman and Morning who save the day – Morning by attacking the demon via exorcism ritual and brandishing the crucifix at the beast – and Kinderman by providing the means of the merciful death that finally sets Karras free.

7. Father Paul Morning was a tacked-on character, but Blatty was careful to show that this new exorcist doesn’t quite, exactly, “come out of nowhere” as an annoying intrusion into the narrative. Blatty takes care to give Morning a brief, prior exorcistic history, and poetically sketches the aging priest’s character in a gentle, wordless introductory scene that shows that he has been caring for an injured bird; finds that the bird has suddenly died;and then encounters the presence of the old demon when he witnesses a crucifix fall off the wall, the sky darkening, while the demonic “Pazuzu wind” begins to blow through his room.

Blatty also shows Morning praying in the campus chapel – in another wordless scene, except for Morning’s vocalized prayer, which ends with a scriptural citation, “men of violence seek my life …my life…” an explicitly foreshadowing hint that, like Father Lankester Merrin before him, Morning himself “must soon face an ancient enemy”.

8. A final, very important (for those who care about spiritual matters dramatically expressed) theological notation:

Exorcist III is the first and (as far as I know) the only one of Blatty’s religious works in which the formerly hidden deity emerges into the material world to perform an act of divine intervention – for which we have that much-disdained added-in exorcism scene to thank.

This is worked out by showing a mysterious beam of heavenly light shining into the Gemini cell, which awakens the unconscious Father Morning, thereby permitting him to yell encouragement to Karras to break the demon’s hold – which Karras momentarily succeeds in doing – which in turn permits Kinderman the chance to free Karras by a lethal use of his service revolver.

In that final moment of clarity, Karras shouts, “Shoot me, Bill! Shoot now! Kill me now!”. Kinderman swiftly obliges the priest’s request. Karras’s final words are: “We’ve won… Now, free me.” Kinderman delivers a final shot, which permits Damien Karras at last to ascend to the heaven from which the vengeful demon had, for a hellish period, prevented his entry.

By this device, Blatty’s formerly hidden God has finally been permitted to reveal his presence on the scene – still invisible, but at last as a positively active Presence within the world – and this in a manner completely new to Blatty’s former theological contemplations about God’s absence from the world. A hopeful note on which Blatty ended his creative involvement in the Exorcist franchise.


Worship, Prayer, Angelomorphology, and Jesus’s “Deity”

Trinitarians typically claim that NT (New Testament) references to people “worshiping” Jesus or “giving Jesus worship” prove that the NT thinks that Jesus is God.

However, it appears doubtful that the NT actually depicts people as worshiping Jesus in the Trinitarian/”God” sense.

The Bible uses “worship” not only to designate creatures’ subordination to God, but also uses the term to indicate reverence to kings, officials, prophets and other kinds of holy people. Thus in the Gospels, where it says ” ‘X’ persons worshiped Jesus”, it likely means only that they gave him high reverence, but the Gospels never imply that such people worshiped Jesus as God. Not only did Jesus explicitly exclude himself from the Godhead in John 17:3 (“You, Father, are the only true God“), he also said that he HAD a God, worshiped a God, and ascended to God. But of course God does not have a god, does not worship a god, and cannot ascend to himself.

Not even John’s “DoubtingThomas’s” expression to Jesus, “My Lord and my God!” necessitates the notion that Thomas was worshiping Jesus as God.

The story is not about some issue concerning Jesus’s supposed deity. It’s about Thomas not having witnessed the risen Jesus, and his telling the disciples that he won’t believe until he sees with his own eyes. The context, therefore, is not Jesus’s purported deity, but rather about Thomas’s unbelief.

The risen Jesus then appears and grants Thomas permission to probe his execution wounds, after which Thomas declares his faith, not in Jesus as God, but in GOD as Lord. That is, Thomas is rendering worship to the Father by whose will Jesus has been raised up. So the Thomas story is often misunderstood by Trinitarians to be about Jesus’s supposed divinity, whereas it is really about Thomas’s lack of resurrection-faith.

Had Jesus wanted to be worshiped, surely he would have openly encouraged the practice. Yet, in the Gospels, he never does.

And had early Christians worshiped Jesus as God, NT prayer would typically, frequently, be expected to address Jesus as God. But it never does.

NT prayer is only addressed to the Father, “through” or “in” Jesus, or “in Jesus’ name” – but never to Jesus as God. The Maranatha prayer – “Come, Lord” – is addressed to Jesus not as God, but rather as Messianic Lord, and is a hopeful request that he return soon. In Luke-Acts, Stephen’s outcry to Jesus that Jesus accept Stephen into heaven is not a prayer to Jesus as God, but again, simply to Jesus as Messianic Lord. In John’s Gospel Jesus says that the disciples can ask anything in his name and he/and/or the Father will grant it: again, this is a form of petition to God – in Jesus’s name, as the Messianic Son – not to Jesus as as some kind of an ontological “God”. Hence, according to the NT texts, Jesus was never given divine worship, for the simple reason that the first Christians did not regard him as ontological God.

So, to reiterate, it seems that that no one in the NT ever “worshiped” Jesus in a Trinitarian sense. The Bible uses “worship” in describing adulation directed to God, but it also uses the term in describing veneration of heroes, judges, prophets, kings and holy people. Nowhere in the NT is worship directed to Jesus as God, but only to the Father.

And the same principle applies to NT prayer – in the NT, no one prays to Jesus as God . On the contrary, they pray only to the Father, “through Jesus”, “in Jesus”, or “in Jesus’s name”. The “Maranatha prayer” is the disciples’ simple request to Jesus Messiah to return “soon”. In Luke-Acts, Stephen’s prayer that Jesus receive him into heaven is, again, a prayer to the Son of Man standing next to the Father. Etc.

The NT contains no worship of Jesus as God and directs no prayer to Jesus as God. That’s because the NT does not consider Jesus to be God, but rather to be the pre-existent celestial archangel who by his incarnation, suffering, death and resurrection was elevated above all other angels.

If at first it seems strange to view Jesus as an archangel, the NT itself seems to confirm the notion, especially in its portrayal of Jesus’s trial before the Sanhedrin, where he promises his judges that they will see the heavenly “Son of Man”, coming with the clouds in great glory, accompanied by “Power” (the living Presence of God). This pre-existent heavenly figure appears in the book of Daniel, in a heavenly “presentation ceremony”, where the Son of Man approaches the throne of “the Ancient of Days” (God). It is no surprise, therefore, that Caiaphas the Jewish high priest was said to have torn his robe and charged Jesus with blasphemy for claiming to be the cloud-dwelling celestial Son of Man.

Once Jesus’s own pre-existent, celestial Son of Man christology is delineated and clearly viewed, it becomes clear that Christianity had no need of a Trinitarian “Son” – for the simple reason that Jesus, as an “incarnation” of the heavenly Son of Man, already functioned as a divine Son on earth as well as in heaven.

Moreover, the NT also says that Jesus was  given the divine Name and was charged with divine judgment. Which conception also happens to dovetail with the Jewish Bible’s depiction of the pre-existent-heavenly “Great Angel of Israel”, who bore the divine Name and executed divine judgment on the ancient Israelites.

The NT Jesus therefore represents a kind of conflation between the Great Angel and the Son of Man. So, to put the case flippantly, “Who needs a Trinitarian Son when in Jesus we already have God’s chief assisting Angel and the celestial Son of Man?” In these circumstances, a Trinitarian Son seems only to be an arbitrary, unnecessary, redundant and distortive addendum to an original Jewish, monotheistic christology.

Finally, to recap:

In the NT, Jesus was never worshiped or prayed to as God or as the Trinitarian Son. Moreover, in the NT, Jesus claims to be the heavenly Son of Man – the archangelic pre-existent figure who lived in the clouds of heaven, and who also shared certain exalted traits with Israel’s Great Angel.

Therefore, pragmatically speaking, no ontologically divine Trinitarian Son need (or should!) be superimposed on Jesus’s original Jewish-monotheistic claim to be the Son of Man both in heaven and on earth (“So that you might know that the Son of Man has authority on earth to forgive sins…” – Mark 2:10).

“Jesus-as-God” christology is most accurately viewed as a foreign, “paganized” Gentile, Greco-Roman category which the “post-Apostolic” Church Councils imposed upon an original Jewish-monotheistic christological assertion.

Baptism and Faith (“Alone”)

Christianity took over the notion of Jewish circumcision as an initiatory rite, and substituted baptism in its place. In the NT, it is baptism “for the forgiveness of sins” which causes the participant to be “in” Christ in a special kind of way. Not only that, Pauline baptism seems to be sacramental – that is, it is a ritual which is participatory – with the acolyte undergoing a spiritually real “dying and rising with Christ”.

Moreover, some NT texts imply that the foundational gift of the Spirit itself is given through baptism – the first and most noticeable example being that of Jesus himself, who when he was baptized by John the Immerser in the Jordan river, received “the Spirit Like A Dove”, who functioned as a tutelary guide, drove Jesus into the wilderness for his ordeal of prayer and fasting, and finally impelled him into his mission and his selection of disciples. Clearly, unlike Jewish circumcision, according to the NT, Christian baptism is far more than a mere initiatory, welcoming custom or tradition.

So it would appear that the NT recognizes baptism as a real, active agent of God’s immediate power, presence, and transformative grace.

So the question here is how sacramental baptism fits or does not fit with another NT conception, namely, that of salvation by grace/faith, defined as a sheer, unearned gift from God. Is there a tension between :

1) Baptism’s sacramental (salvation by works/rituals) aspects as conferring grace and Spirit on the recipient;
… and …
2) The (non-works) salvation-by-faith injunction?

I myself have not yet formulated a holistic answer to this question. Perhaps a reader might care to suggest some ideas.

Fundamentalism: Christianity as a Mixed Bag

Much is currently made about Christian intolerance and condemnation of non-Christians and non-Christian beliefs and religious groups.

The fact is that there are differing kinds, formats, and expressions in Christianity.

It seems to me that most complaints center around one Christian sector, which might be called “apologists”, and which I usually identify as fundamentalists.

The main issue is that fundamentalists believe that they have an absolute mandate, an immutable commitment, to a literalist reading of the Bible, to church doctrine…and most important, to their own salvation – a salvation which is automatically threatened when they entertain any concept outside of the strict party line. For them, to entertain any “heretical” belief, no matter how briefly, and even for the “best” of reasons (i.e., the conversion of non-Christians), is to jeopardize their salvation. A sign of weak faith. And weak faith leads to backsliding and the likely potential of “falling into Satanic error”. Thus, fundamentalist Christians have an in-built defense mechanism that forces them to commit to dogmatic assertions, on pain of eternal damnation. It is, therefore, not surprising that they cannot be dialogued with in a rational discussion. Their dogma and ideology prevent that happening from the get-go.

But of course, fundamentalists are a small but vocal sector in the total framework of general Christianity. There are plenty of progressive Christians in “emergent” churches who utterly disparage biblical literalism, “witnessing”, condemnation of non-Christians – and who at the same time embrace critical biblical scholarship and the allegorical, parabolic nature of Christian sacred literature.

It’s a mixed bag, and it is not objective to uncritically make sweeping generalizations which identify all Christians with the fundamentalist subset.