Abnormal psychology is the term usually reserved for the movements of the soul that run counter to the natural life of the soul. The natural life is one where the three psychic powers of thought, emotion and drive are balanced, and the consciousness is oriented to the uncreated light of the Holy Trinity.
Abnormality, and thus psychopathology, occurs when the powers are out of balance, when one or two eclipse the other(s), only because the light of the Trinity does not fill the lamp of the soul.
An orientation to the Holy Trinity opens the soul to the transfiguring light of Mt. Tabor, what is called the "uncreated light." This light is the grace that "deifies" the man or woman, and transforms the human life from an existence defined by biological necessities, to a life that attains true personhood, real freedom in that the personhood becomes more distinct in that he or she becomes more Christlike.
That is the natural life, growing toward the supernatural life, in an unbroken continuum between the ostensibly mundane and the frequently miraculous.
The unnatural life binds the soul to the necessities of regression and passion. The confinement of human life to the dictates of sexual and appetitive drives, irascible expression and prideful or self-aggrandizing agenda is patently unnatural. It impels the human psyche toward uncharted, physiologically-corrosive patterns that produce ego-disintegration, thought-disorganization, and psycho-somatic disruption.
It also, in extreme degrees, invites the despotic, totalitarian influence of other, alien psychic influences. Old-fashioned textbooks (like patristic ones) would use the term "demon" here. They were not shy to label a phenomenon demonic.
For several enlightened generations now, we have taken to bowdlerizing the fathers. We have substituted their "primitive" use of the term "demonic" with "mental disorder" instead, assuming that these pathologies were simply misunderstood by benighted pre-science primitives who couldn't have known any better.
For several decades now, we have been treated to a sequence of scientific and materialistic theories that have dismissed any possibility of alien psychic influence. But it turns out that none of these supplanting theories have been robust or reliable enough. None have been able to inform diagnosis well. And certainly none have been able to generate effective treatment, which is the only justification for a psychological theory's existence.
Take, for example, the theories surrounding the phenomenon described by the word "schizophrenia." The very chic family/systems theory which posited a "double-bind" etiology (i.e., theory of origin) for schizophrenia turned out to be a horrific slander against parents and grandparents and "family of origin." Its successor, genetic theory, might be able to predict the incidence of schizophrenia from one generation to another, but it still does not explain a single case, or give much guidance to therapy. Psychopharmacology actually helps in the treatment of many disorders, even schizophrenia and bipolarity, but only to the extant of symptom alleviation.
There is no real "treatment." There is no real diagnosis in any of the secular psychologies.
There is no improvement of etiology over what we witness in the Gospels. There is no better treatment than the charisma of grace begged by prayer and fasting, and the rebuttal of passions and demonic insinuations by theology and participation in the communion of the saints.
I am no enemy of the judicious use of therapeutic drugs. At the same time, I am distrustful of many popular "pseudo-spiritual" therapies that seem to inject themselves in the place of the Church. In my past work in inpatient psychiatric units, I saw many treatment modules that were patently religious in nature, but were all determinedly non-Christian. In particular, I think that the 12-step recovery program is successful insofar as it mimics the asceticism of the Apostolic Church: it fails insofar as it avoids the identification of the Higher Power as the Holy Trinity.
Nevertheless, while there is some success in some secular, extra-ecclesial therapies (such as cognitive-behavioral therapy for mood disorders), there is no real psychotherapy outside the Apostolic Church. Mental health, in the fullness of the term, requires submission to Holy Tradition, and communion in the mysteries, and the renewal of the intellect in Theology Pure and Sound.
In the Gospels, and in the Epistles, we see a clear reference to the demonic when voices are heard, when a person harms himself or is a threat to others, when the occult is evoked. The demonic is not invariably referenced: Peter's mother-in-law suffered from a fever, and Jairus' daughter succumbed, both without any mention of demonic attack. But where there was an anti-human and anti-Christ agenda, there was no hesitation to acknowledge the activity of an evil psyche.
We do not like to consider this. Even in an event as horrific as Monday at Virginia Tech, we recoil at the mention of demonic influence. Perhaps we do not want to risk the ill repute of primitive association. But I would ask simply this: if one of the Apostles saw what Cho had done in Blacksburg, how would he have characterized it, in his New Testament categories, in his Apostolic worldview?
Is our worldview any better? Did it produce a good century with the twentieth? Is the twenty-first starting out better?
The re-introduction of the demonic (as entity, not as a sociological extrapolation a la Wink or Stringfellow) can be, oddly enough, beneficial. For one thing, it can put to rest the mind-boggling quandary of figuring the evolutionary benefit of counter-survival strategies such as sin, in general. It can also provide startlingly reliable intuitions about the stereotypical nature (i.e., cross-cultural similarity) of evil.
It can also predict trends in culture, as culture declines from ecclesial influence and embraces self-expression and impulse-gratification instead. In secular criticism, this is called decadence. In ecclesial perspectives, the phenomenon is called reprobation. Individual and group behavior become more predictable, not less, as passions increase in intensity and dominance. The sociological trends are remarkably slavish to script. Demons are, after all, not creative.
Demonic influence is completely, and absurdly, misconceived in popular culture (e.g., The Exorcist) and in superficial Christian literature, fiction and non-fiction: the tele-evangelist and pentecostal displays of exorcisms are hysterical and histrionic. Demons are depicted, as planned, as denizens of the occult, which they are not. Or as physical monsters, which they are not.
They are psychic entities, and interact psychically with men and women. They do not need to be invoked (or interviewed). They are lighthoused by passion as moths to a flame and flies to piles. They cajole the soul with insinuations, distortions and darksome interpretations. They rejoice at slander. They become intoxicated at massacre. They are pessimistic, cynical, petulant and rageful -- and this is to be expected.
But they are also lustful -- and this is not mentioned all that much, if at all. The signal characteristic of Hades is that the malevolent intelligences are subject to passions without any means by which these passions may be assuaged. In a horrific possibility, it seems that the demonic seeks any human soul to surrender to passion for the entertainment of the spiritual entity. At every act of lust, there is always a voyeur, if not a vicarious participant. That is why rape is always violent, as it is always, always demonic.
The demonic is also dejected, as spiritual pride is a rejection of grace in totality. As a result, there is profound, hellish self-incurred deprivation of fellowship with the Trinity. The self is cut loose from the crest of time, and is endlessly pitched back into retrogression, decay and diminishing repetition. Depression is the union of dejection, and the physiological accommodation of the cognitions of dejection: the body will follow the soul, even, and especially, in decline.
The demonic will always break the mind. Even swine, as unclean as they were thought to be, could not endure one moment of demonic infestation. It speaks to the fallenness of the human condition that they can endure the demonic for much longer: nevertheless, the human soul cannot abide the alien, dark angelic leprosy, and will fester into sharp decline (some art and literature display, outwardly, the interior decay). That is why psychosis, thought disorganization, and failed reality testing are always frequent when the demonic is present.
Finally, the re-introduction of the consideration of the demonic brings this benefit: it helps in treatment. By all means, physical problems should be checked and treated. Psychiatric medications may even be tried, like resperidone or fluoxetine, or even methylphenidate (though I'm less sure about this one).
But with the demonic, only prayer and fasting will actually work. Symptoms can be managed or ameliorated by lesser means (like drugs, the rehearsal of new coping skills, the reframing of traumatic experiences, or -- my favorite -- moving far away with your juvenile delinquent).
There is only one word for treatment, however, and that is "healing" -- the Enlightenment never changed this reality, it only engineered terminologies to obfuscate ecclesial discernment: the only discernment that could recognize a demon for what it was.
The mission of the Orthodox Church is to proclaim the gospel, and to teach and to baptize. A very large part of this Great Commission will be the cultivation of an ecclesial culture of prayer and fasting. There was a reason why the Great Church had so many exorcists, and it wasn't because they were a bunch of snake-handlers who hadn't yet heard the gospel of Francis Bacon.
In the days and years to come, there will have to be more of this -- prayer and fasting and discernment, that is, not snake-handling.
At least, that's what the signs of the times imply: it is, after all, red in the morning.
And VT, and Cho, are a sign of the times.
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Posted by: Bidsantonetta | January 19, 2012 at 03:58 AM
Dear Tarwater,
I don't think a fast is called for with a severe major depression. First of all, this is a medical diagnosis, and may (and probably does) require medical treatment. There is nothing wrong with medical treatment if there is a physical component of the problem. I am only arguing against the denial and neglect of the greater spiritual realities of psychopathology.
If there is a passion of dejection underlying the physical/neurological problem of depression, then it should be fought against without exacerbating the physical disorder.
Metropolitan Hierotheos of Nafpaktos, in his great work Orthodox Psychtherapy (for which I shall always be indebted) summarizes the Fathers' prescription for the passion of dejection:
... dejection must be cured first of all by a constant warfare against all passions within
... “We must struggle against the demon of dejection which casts the soul into despair … we must drive him away from our heart”
... The only sorrow permitted to a Christian is mourning in sympathy with the grief and pain of others, and the mourning in repentance for our sins — WHICH IS ALWAYS ACCOMPANIED BY HOPE IN GOD
... Dejection is cured when, by the grace of God and our own courage, we turn it into the spiritual and healing sorrow of repentance!
Hope this helps.
Posted by: Postman | April 25, 2007 at 07:30 PM
What type of fast have you seen to be effective in resolving severe major depression?
Posted by: Tarwater | April 25, 2007 at 02:28 PM
The demonic is all around us, but the One who is in us is greater and HE bids us to pray and fast.
His Grace,Metropolitan Phillip, wrote to his parishes in the USA, urging that we reach out to young people in our communities, seeking to bring them to baptism and chrismation. This is one of the Church's ways to address the demonic and to seal those who come in faith.
A thoughtful and thought-provoking post. Thanks.
Posted by: Alice C. Linsley | April 23, 2007 at 12:13 PM
Thanks for this post. I was disturbed by The Excorcist because I felt it portrayed the demonic as much more powerful that it really is, especially given that the priest could not even expel the demon. I would love to know more of your thoughts on this topic or book recommendations about how Christians are to perceive the power (and lack of power) of the demonic.
Posted by: Audrey | April 23, 2007 at 10:46 AM
Father,
You note that demons are psychic entities and are by no means physical monsters. Fair enough. Yet what are we to make of the foul-looking and smelling demons who repeatedly appeared to St Silouan to obstruct his prayer?
Thank you for this most illuminating post.
Posted by: Peter | April 23, 2007 at 09:24 AM
VERY good post. Like you said, we look for demonic possession to be some razzle dazzle head spinning kinda thing.
I think it's an incorrect and dualist question to ask, "Well, was it demons or was he just mentally ill? Or physically ill?" All three! Spiritual, physical, mental, all three--to be sick in any one area is to be sick in all three, as a unified person.
Get a cold, then you're cranky, then you get wrathful.
Get envious, then you're lonely, then you become sickly.
Become dispairing, then you're depressed, then you don't eat well.
Again, great post.
Posted by: ben | April 20, 2007 at 12:40 PM
Thanks, Och., for the kind words. While I cast some aspersions on Mssrs. Wink and Stringfellow, I liked them both all the same. I went to a revivalist/anabaptist seminary, and to an evangelical quaker undergrad school, so I was introduced to the writings of folk like Wink and Yoder, and actually met (and was scared by) Stringfellow. The latter let it be known that being with a bunch of evangelical groupies was not his thing. Nevertheless, his presentation helped some of us start to hope that there was life outside the second work lifestyle and rapturo-phobia -- a lifestyle you described eloquently in your last post. Pax, Phos, & Zoe Dad (and Mom)!
Posted by: Postman | April 19, 2007 at 06:41 PM
Your last three posts have been profound and brilliant. I find this post quite hopeful and encouraging in light of the events which brought you to write it. I have now read several things on the horror, but this is the first thing which has caused me to feel that there is a concrete and real way to directly confront the evil at hand. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
As an aside - I am pleased that you mention Wink and Stringfellow. Walter Wink's trilogy was quite influential to me in my early twenties and over the years, as my opinion on several things Wink likes to posit about has become contrary to that of Wink, I still find his method and categories persuasive. He is right, it seems to me, when it comes to confronting the powers in a way that is real, direct, and maintains integrity. As for Stringfellow, I was spent a weekend at his old house on Block Island - where the Berrigans hid out - when I was buying Daniel Berrigan's library for a former employer of mine. Somewhere around the house I have a couple of old cassettes of Stringfellow giving lectures. I think I will have to dig those out and give them a listen again. In one lecture he was speaking in NYC the same time a Billy Graham crusade was going on there and as I recall his comments on the uselessness of revival religion where spot on. Though again I would disagree with Stringfellow over any number of issues, I think that writers like Wink and Stringfellow give light to the fact that the lines drawn in the "culture wars" are largely false. I agree with David B. Hart that there really is no war because we do not know who to fight. This post has brought many strands of thought together for me in a way that is most helpful.
Posted by: ochlophobist | April 19, 2007 at 02:03 PM