Pastor takes a stand after Iowa city council starts official business with 'hail Satan' prayer: 'Reverse that curse'

An apparent fetishization of religious "diversity" had officials in an Iowa city permit a satanic invocation prior to conducting official business on Tuesday. While many at the meeting appeared willing to put up with the infernal appeal, one Christian man stood up and spoke out.
How it started
Ottumwa, a city in Southeast Iowa, adopted a policy on Jan. 20 allowing for invocations to be given at the start of official city council meetings.
'That's not welcome here.'
"This policy is intended to acknowledge and express the City Council's respect for the diversity of both organized and unorganized religious denominations, as well as other faiths, belief systems, or the lack thereof, represented and practiced among the citizens of the City of Ottumwa," the policy states.
Per the policy, invocational speakers are to be "selected without preference to any specific religion, belief, faith, or ideology, from amongst a diverse pool of Ottumwa citizens" and are asked not to proselytize, disparage other beliefs, and to keep their invocation under two minutes in length.
Summoning the devil
Matthew Dalbey, a former Ottumwa city council member, seized upon the opportunity not only to offer a prayer down to the devil but to violate the city's policy by taking a general dig at the beliefs of others.
"Let us pray," started Dalbey. "Dear dark father, let us stand now unbowed and unfettered by arcane doctrines born of fearful minds in darkened times. Let us embrace the Luciferian impulse to eat of the tree of knowledge and dissipate our blissful and comforting delusions of old."
RELATED: Inside the mind of a Catholic exorcist: Fr. Chad Ripperger talks shop with Shawn Ryan
Dalbey is a member of the Iowa chapter of the Satanic Temple. While Dalbey told KTVO-TV that he and other members of the Satanic Temple don't actually believe in Satan or worship him, the anti-Christian group and its members certainly behave as though they do.
After all, in recent years, the Satanic Temple has erected statues of Baphomet on government property around Christmastime; offered expectant mothers telehealth abortion services and promoted an "abortion ritual"; challenged pro-life legislation; distributed satanic literature to children; publicly performed "unbaptisms"; held a demonization ceremony in protest of the canonization of the Catholic Spanish priest Junípero Serra; and promoted euthanasia and pornography.
After imploring the devil to help the Iowans present to turn against ancient beliefs and deriding "arbitrary social norms," Dalbey championed "agnosticism in all things" and called for opposition against any "arbitrary authority that threatens the personal sovereignty of one or all."
The radical concluded his prayer with "hail Satan."
Righteous indignation
New Life Center Pastor Rick Bick refused to let the satanic prayer go unchecked.
Bick — who made an invocation prior to a council meeting earlier this year and is set to do so again in December — declared, "Let's just reverse that curse that was just put on our city."
"That ending with, 'hail Satan' and 'hail dark god'?" continued the pastor. "That's not welcome here."
'I am a Christian man with Christian values so I chose not to participate.'
Bick reiterated that the satanic prayer was a curse on this city and noted, "Most of you know that, and we just need to stop and reverse it."
Ottumwa Mayor Benjamin Foote attempted to defuse the situation by calling for a "moment of silence to reflect on whatever it is we need to reflect on at this time."
Cara Galloway, the council member who cast the lone vote against the invocation policy in January and reportedly warned about the inevitability of a satanic prayer, noted at the end of the meeting on Tuesday that selectively objecting to invocations now may expose taxpayers to legal liability.
The City of Ottumwa issued a statement on Tuesday, noting, "It is very clear that many of you have watched at least the first two minutes of the October 6 City Council meeting."
The city underscored that it "cannot discriminate against a denomination and everyone that is invited to perform the invocation has followed the correct protocol."
Councilman Bill Hoffman told Blaze News, "We as elected officials are not aware of the content before hand. In my opinion, I do not believe this one invocation expresses the beliefs of most of Ottumwa."
"Personally as a councilman, I only speak for myself, I did not stay in the room during the invocation as I do not agree with the content," continued Hoffman. "I am a Christian man with Christian values so I chose not to participate, and I stepped into the hallway and did a personal prayer to God for strength and wisdom for myself and to watch over our city."
Other members of the council and Mayor Foote did not immediately respond to Blaze News' requests for comment.
The satanic invocation has prompted widespread outrage.
"WTF," tweeted BlazeTV host Sara Gonzales.
Former NCAA swimmer Riley Gaines wrote, "Jesus, come back now."
BlazeTV host Steve Deace suggested, however, that it is par for the course in the Hawkeye State: "To be fair, Democrat candidate for congress @SarahforIowa does preside over Satanic weddings."
Sarah Trone Garriott, a leftist Lutheran minister who is presently running against Republican Rep. Zach Nunn, has helped oversee at least one "wedding" for satanists. In 2023, she discussed her efforts to accommodate disciples of the fallen on their big day, going so far as to consider readings about the devil "to make them feel more comfortable."
As of Thursday morning, Blaze News' Poll Watch has Nunn with a 6-point lead.

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Strong Men Will Save The American Church
A small Tennessee conference exposed how comfortable we have become with a Church that will not fight.Netflix ‘adapts’ Steinbeck’s ‘East of Eden’ — and Satan gets a sympathetic makeover

Any thrill I might have experienced upon learning an “East of Eden” adaptation was in the Netflix pipeline was rapidly extinguished by memories of the latest screen desecrations of beloved classics.
Earlier this year, provocateur Emerald Fennell turned Emily Brontë’s Gothic tragedy “Wuthering Heights” into cheap fodder for the smut-obsessed. This summer, Netflix retconned Laura Ingalls Wilder’s “Little House on the Prairie” — complete with culturally fluent pioneers and a DEI-mandated American frontier.
They are systematically eliminating our clearest portraits of evil because behind them lies the Christian realities that inspired them.
As for Christopher Nolan’s “Odyssey,” I thought it was a cinematic success, but it still made the face that launched a thousand ships a lesson in representation, while casting transgender “Elliot” Page as the Greek warrior Sinon, who’s not even a Homeric character.
I’m already recoiling thinking about the heresy that animates feminist auteur Greta Gerwig’s upcoming “Narnia” reimagining, which intends to emasculate Aslan and turn Lewis’ sacrosanct creation myth into a secular 1950s “rock opera.”
I could go on, but that’s enough to make plain the pattern of Hollywood’s utter disregard for adapting the literary canon faithfully. Always it must infuse its warped catechisms, lest we plebeians forget where it stands.
But being the masochist I am when it comes to these matters, I watched Netflix’s “East of Eden” anyway, and I have to tell you, I was genuinely gutted by what I witnessed. Not annoyed by predictable woke tropes, although those were there too. No — gutted.
My visceral shock, however, was less about the revision of John Steinbeck’s perennial Cain and Abel allegory and more regarding what that deliberate modification reveals about the dismal state of our culture.
Will the real Cathy Ames please stand up?
If you haven’t read Steinbeck’s “East of Eden” (and please do!), I’ll take the liberty of giving you a little teaser: The novel's antagonist, Cathy Ames, is certainly one of the most heinous villains in American literature, if not in the entire Western canon.
The book introduces her with this haunting bit of prose: “I believe there are monsters born in the world to human parents.”
And that’s an apt entrance for Cathy. She is a monster at birth, a mutant at the soul level, a fiend cloaked in human flesh. Modern-day psychologists would diagnose her as an incorrigible sociopath who takes pleasure only in the torture, humiliation, and demise of other people.
Cathy is also what critics call a “static character”: She undergoes virtually no meaningful change over the course of the novel. More unsettlingly, she remains almost impossible to relate to at a human level. Steinbeck gives her no humanizing backstory that draws our sympathies, no redeeming ethical or moral arc, no thing we might point to and say, “See, that’s why she behaves so horribly.”
Static characters are almost humorous in their simplicity, and they serve a variety of purposes in literature. But in Cathy’s case, her function is symbolism. She is an emblem for unadulterated evil, and that’s neither my nor the literary authorities’ verdict. It’s Steinbeck’s. In a letter, he called Cathy Ames “a total representative of Satan.”
It’s a tailor-made description, given she frames two young boys for sexual abuse, drives a man to suicide, and burns her parents alive all by the age of 16 and the end of the chapter that introduces her. In hopes you will read the book for yourself, I won’t spoil the rest of the unspeakable horrors that unfold at Cathy’s polluted hand.
But as sinister as she is, Cathy Ames plays a paramount role in this story. “East of Eden” is a moral epic, meaning it’s not just an entertaining tale about fictional people and events. It actually employs those things for the explicit purpose of drawing our attention to the cosmic war between good and evil, heaven and hell, God and the devil. Cathy, as I’ve already noted, represents the dark side of that epic struggle. Humanize her in any way and you collapse the entire framework.
But surprise, surprise — that’s exactly the sin the makers of Netflix’s “East of Eden” committed.
A moral epic gets the Hollywood makeover
Writer Zoe Kazan told Reuters, "We wanted our audience to be able to identify with every single character, the ones that are good on the surface and the ones that are evil on the surface because if we think about people that are evil or bad as being not human, we don't learn anything about ourselves."
A pleasant sentiment, except no logical reader could conclude that Steinbeck’s Cathy Ames is evil “on the surface.” He makes it unmistakably clear from the outset that she is not just a perpetrator of evil but the embodiment of evil itself. “A malformed soul” are his exact words.
So to correct Ms. Kazan, Cathy is nonhuman in that she lacks the very qualities that make one so — empathy, moral quandaries, regret, emotional baggage, anything that would resonate with a real human being. The Bible gives Lucifer no domesticating backstory, so why should his literary stand-in have one?
Actress Florence Pugh, who plays Cathy in the series, had her own nauseating comments: “She can still make terrible decisions and face awful consequences, but there can also be ... an understanding of her history and her past, which makes her the way that she is.”
Except being a static archetype, there’s literally nothing in Cathy’s history or past to explain her savagery. The fact that she is inherently and incurably evil is the entire point of her character.
But that won’t do for Hollywood. It must tinker and snip at a classic until it creates its desired Frankenstein's monster. Thus Kazan gave the diabolical Cathy Ames a tragic backstory, turning her from a Satan figure into a woman we can pity, even as she destroys. She suffers abuse, acquires trauma, is driven to desperation, and, of course, experiences the cold hand of misogyny. It’s not even worth delving into. Suffice it to say it’s a lie. More important to me is the "why" behind it.
When killers get poignant backstories
The show's egregious misreading of Cathy raises an important question: Are the makers of this blasphemous series just stupid, or are they up to something?
That’s a rhetorical question. You know as well as I do there’s an agenda at play. What might surprise us is how ugly it is.
Obviously, these Hollywood revisionists are well aware Steinbeck’s Cathy Ames is not a sympathetic character in any sense of the term. But they chose to rewrite her as one anyway — and it has nothing to do with the audience wanting to “learn something about themselves,” as Kazan sold it.
"Introspection" is a reasonable sop to satiate the masses, but it’s a ruse. Cathy must be remade, for she represents the very thing the progressive left wants to retroactively undo. As long as objective evil breathes, it stands as a barrier to their dark vision for the world: a dystopia ruled by moral relativism, where one man’s act of slaughter is another man’s tragic mental break.
Or should I say woman’s? After all, the morally intact part of the nation has been watching, mouths agape, for months now as thousands of people (most of them mothers) fought for a woman who admitted to methodically strangling her three young children to death in a basement. “Postpartum psychosis” was an evocative enough backstory to tip the pity scales in Clancy’s favor.
A similar and equally disturbing trajectory of events surrounded the premeditated stalking and murder of United Healthcare CEO Brian Thompson. His admitted killer, Luigi Mangione, was made into a sympathetic vigilante by radicals who cheered his “courage.” His chronic pain, denied claims, and manifesto then made him an ideal mascot for progressives’ agenda to blame “the system” rather than the criminal.
Karmelo Anthony, the “good kid” who stabbed an unarmed student after a verbal confrontation, claimed self-defense, and was cast as a victim of racism, is yet another example.
There is a pattern here, and it reveals a dark truth: There is much power to harness when you give a killer a poignant backstory.
RELATED: 'I think they're demons': Why JD Vance refuses to downplay supernatural evil

Television tells a vision
But backstories, even those belonging to killers, are not off limits. On the contrary, they are the lens that allows us to see the gray, the nuance that tempers dichotomous thinking. Much good results from understanding motive so long as the line of objective morality remains unblurred — because for every degree it fades, Pandora’s box opens a hair more. And then suddenly, the demons are too numerous to count. And they do not go back in the box willingly.
But Steinbeck’s Cathy Ames is designed to make us look at those bloodthirsty demons, not the complexities of real people living in a broken world. To adapt her character, or any similar character, in this way is a calculated attempt to corrupt what C.S. Lewis called the “Law of Human Nature,” the idea that man is born with a moral radar.
No doubt entertainment has been powerful in the dulling of man’s intrinsic moral compass. Under the guise of artistic license, it surreptitiously conditions the masses. True to its name, television tells a vision — in this case, that evil is really just the manifestation of trauma or poverty.
By turning a Satan symbol into a tragic figure, a Netflix series becomes propaganda for the progressive push for absolution. And of course, the communists are cheering. Explaining away evil is their vision too, you know. The only difference is their endgame isn’t equity or decarceration; it’s dominion.
Christianity in the crosshairs
I initially thought it was ironic they chose a famous moral epic — the least fitting vessel — to undermine the idea of pure evil. But then I realized that’s exactly why they chose “East of Eden.” They are systematically eliminating our clearest portraits of evil because behind them lie the Christian realities that inspired them. If your goal is to unmake evil, Christianity is where you must aim the arrow.
Steinbeck’s 600-page epic boils down to a single word. After God rejects Cain’s offering in Genesis 4, he tells the soon-to-be fratricidal murderer: “Sin lieth at the door ... and thou shalt rule over him.” After a long spiritual journey, the character Lee discovers that the Hebrew translation for “shalt” — timshel — is less of a command and more of a gracious offering.
Despite Satan and his wicked pull on the hearts of man, “thou mayest” rule over evil. That is the lesson Cathy’s son Cal — who fears he has inherited his mother's malevolent nature — walks away with.
But when you get rid of objective evil, what is there to rule over? That’s what really guts me. By painting evil as buried trauma, the series offers a secularized, counterfeit timshel. Biblical permission to recognize and deny Satan’s influence turns into a therapy session on handling our misfortunes better than our forebears. It would be a decent message if it didn’t obscure precisely the cosmic war between good and evil that “East of Eden” seeks to illuminate — a darkness our culture exploits for any number of nefarious ends.
The war is real, however, and there's no opting out of it. You can distort works like "East of Eden" to pretend that it isn't, but you remain a combatant nonetheless. Just one who's chosen to fight for the losing side.
Famed televangelist Jim Bakker dead at age 86

Famous Christian televangelist Jim Bakker passed away on Monday at the age of 86, according to his wife.
Bakker was one of the most prominent television evangelists of his time before he was convicted of financial crimes and admitted to having an affair with a church secretary.
In 1987, Bakker admitted to a sexual encounter with Jessica Hahn. ... Two years later, he was convicted of fraud and conspiracy.
"It is with a broken heart that I share that my beloved husband, Jim Bakker, went home to be with the Lord this evening," said Lori Bakker, his second wife, in a statement.
"For 66 years, Jim gave his life to preaching the gospel of Jesus Christ," she wrote. "He was a pioneer of Christian television, but to me, he was my husband, my best friend, and the man I was honored to walk beside through so many seasons of life and ministry."
Bakker was born in Muskegon, Michigan, and dropped out of a Bible college in Minneapolis after marrying his first wife, Tammy Faye Bakker. They began a traveling ministry before hosting a kids' show for televangelist Pat Robertson.
He left in 1972 and began the PTL Satellite Network. PTL stands for "Praise the Lord."
He and Tammy Faye became cultural icons in the 1980s and 1990s through their popular evangelical television program. The show drew 13 million viewers at its peak and led to their building a Christian-based theme park and hotel in Fort Mill, South Carolina.
In 1987, Bakker admitted to a sexual encounter with Jessica Hahn, a church secretary, and was forced to hand over control of his empire to Jerry Falwell.
Two years later, he was convicted of fraud and conspiracy from an investigation into his company's finances. He was sentenced to 45 years in prison, but that was later reduced to eight years.
The trial resulted in one of the most well-known moments of the Bakkers' spectacle when Tammy Faye cried during a news conference and sang "On Christ the Solid Rock I Stand."
Tammy Faye divorced Jim Bakker in 1992 and went on to marry Roe Messner, the contractor of the Christian theme park. Messner was convicted of bankruptcy fraud in 1995, and Tammy Faye died of colon cancer in 2007.
Bakker continued to evangelize up until his death and was a supporter of President Donald Trump.
"Even in his final days, his heart was still for the work of God and for the gospel to continue reaching the world," Lori Bakker concluded.
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Halloween isn't opening a door to demons. Christians need to stop pretending it is.

It’s that time of year again, when certain well-meaning but misinformed Christians sin against their fellow believers by questioning their salvation and accusing them of inviting demonic activity.
One young woman told me she is 'called' to spend her time looking into these things, so she can warn everyone about the evil of Halloween.
The crime in question? Participating, in any way, in anything related to Halloween. Well, except for denouncing it — the well-meaning/misinformed group enthusiastically participates in things like this:

I appreciate the zeal of the people who came up with this. They want people to stop being evil and turn to Jesus.
But there are so many things wrong with this approach.
Let’s unpack some of their base philosophies on this — all of them pretty questionable.
Halloween is evil
The first false assumption is that Halloween is inherently evil.
The history of Halloween is a mash-up of Catholic and pagan traditions. All Hallows' Eve (“hallow” means holy) was the night before All Saints' Day, an explicitly Catholic celebration to remember dead saints, which intersected with pagan harvest time traditions related to the belief that the dead could come back as ghosts — thus the “spooky” imagery of the holiday.
Trick-or-treating seems to have emerged from a medieval British practice called “souling,” where the poor would go door-to-door on November 1 or 2, offering prayers for the dead in exchange for food, often “soul cakes.”
Are some pagan roots evident here? Yep, just like a lot of things in our culture. Our names for the days of the week, for instance, reflect the names of pagan gods — like Thursday is named for the god Thor.
The key point here, though, is that nobody will be worshipping Thor this next Thursday, most likely. Because how something started is largely irrelevant. What matters is how it is today.
Halloween traditions brought to the U.S. by immigrants from Britain, Ireland, and Scotland became increasingly mischievous and destructive in the early 20th century, sometimes leading to outright vandalism or violence. To curb this behavior, in the 1930s, various community groups, civic organizations, parents, and churches began promoting organized, door-to-door treat-collecting for younger children.
Trick-or-treating exploded in popularity after World War II and, as it was heavily marketed by the candy companies, grew into a cultural staple representing good clean fun for America’s kids.
That is what changed, and for the vast majority of Americans, that is where we are today.
So no, Halloween is not inherently evil, even in its history, nor is the American tradition of trick-or-treating.
Light should have nothing to do with darkness ...
We can agree on this one; it’s in the Bible, of course — “what fellowship has light with darkness?”
The problem is, as we just clarified above, that children trick-or-treating, which is 99.99% of Halloween for most American families, is not “darkness.”
Ironically, the misled are actually taking this passage out of context, because it certainly is not arguing that we can’t go out and be around “darkness” (unbelievers). On the contrary, how can we love them if we hide away from them?
The real meaning of the passage surfaces when we read the whole thing:
Do not be unequally yoked with unbelievers; for what partnership have righteousness and lawlessness, or what fellowship has light with darkness? —2 Corinthians 6:14
This is prohibiting close attachments with non-Christians that might compromise the Christian's faith — think marriage or perhaps a business partner.
It’s hardly an injunction against going outside on an October evening and chatting with trick-or-treaters.
... but we’re just fascinated with darkness
It is my observation that the misled crowd tends to be more interested in ferreting out sordid aspects of the darkness than they are in bringing light.
Some even boast of having “gone down the rabbit hole” of “research” on Halloween. But it isn’t actual research, or they would at least have some of the basics down (see above, “Halloween is evil” section).
Instead, they grab onto and fearmonger the most horrific (yet undocumented) claims. We’re talking about TikTok videos from highly questionable “pastors,” spurious claims by “ex-witches,” or paragraph after paragraph detailing pagan gods and occult practices — none of this is a good use of time for most Christians.
One young woman told me she is “called” to spend her time looking into these things, so she can warn everyone about the evil of Halloween. She might be called; I’m just not sure who’s doing the calling. Because this is what we’re told to focus on:
Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is dignified, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence and if anything worthy of praise, consider these things. —Philippians 4:8
There’s no darkness in that (above) at all!
Anyway, here are a few of the claims repeatedly made “from the dark side.”
CLAIM: You’re worshipping the devil when you trick-or-treat, whether you want to or not! (A lot of credit is given to what satanists have allegedly said about all this.)
FACT-CHECK: You can’t be "tricked" into worshipping the devil.
CLAIM: Halloween is the worst day for human trafficking!
FACT-CHECK: There is zero supporting evidence; there is no “worst day” for human trafficking, according to law enforcement.
CLAIM: Also human sacrifice.
FACT-CHECK: Again, zero supporting evidence for this.
CLAIM: Witches are out casting spells on Halloween; being outside risks having a demon attach to you.
FACT-CHECK: You can’t accidentally pick up a demon; you have to willfully sin to invite that kind of activity.
CLAIM: If your neighbor is a witch or a satanist, the neighbor curses the candy, and that demonic presence comes into your home!
FACT-CHECK: Your neighbors are most likely not witches or satanists. And if they are? “Little children, you are from God and have overcome them, for he who is in you is greater than he who is in the world.” —1 John 4:4
RELATED: The last ethnic Halloween costume nobody apologizes for

All demons, all the time
There is a flavor of Christianity that tends to fall into this obsession with darkness, and it reaches its pinnacle in so-called “deliverance ministry.”
Deliverance ministry focuses on casting out demons and tearing down spiritual strongholds and uses language about curses, “soul ties,” and the “legal rights” of demons. Much of this is not biblical. There are people who claim “deliverance” is their gift, and they dig deep into the darkness because of that.
The problem is that there is no such gift in the Bible. Only Jesus and the apostles were able to cast out demons. No instruction about that is given to us, and there is not even the suggestion that we should try to interact with demons in any way. On the contrary, actually, as we’ll see below.
Instead, every believer is given everything we need to win at spiritual warfare, in the fight against the demonic:
- We are to put on the full armor of God (Ephesians 6:10-18).
- We are to resist the devil (James 4:7).
- We are not to give him room in our life at all (Ephesians 4:27).
- We are to seek God, who tells us we can overcome the world, by simple faith (1 John 5:4).
- We are to be alert and of sober mind (1 Peter 5:8-10). A magnificent passage, and not a word in there about ordering demons around.
The things I have heard some Christians say about “opening a door to demons” are truly troubling. Touching a crystal opens the door. Stretching your body in a way that yoga teaches opens the door. A pumpkin on your porch opens the door — and the person wasn’t even talking about a carved pumpkin — just a pumpkin. Or my very (least) favorite: Using alternative medicine opens the door.
Some of the most outspoken purveyors of this kind of thinking are people who were formerly involved in the occult. I respect their desire to stay far from anything that reminds them of their old lives. But they overstep when they blindly condemn others for a pumpkin, a stretch, or a trip to a functional medicine provider.
Believers, of course, cannot “accidentally dance with the devil.” We are sealed in Christ, who never lets us go, as multiple Scriptures attest. We have nothing to fear from demons while we walk in His light. We can walk outside on Halloween night, and we can even bring home a Hershey bar and not fret that it’s “cursed.”
However, Christians can certainly make choices that open them to satanic influence. Mindfully disobeying God puts you in a dangerous place. But we are bought and paid for by the blood of Christ, and obeying the Scriptures above is our ticket to spiritual safety.
The bad attitude of the demon-obsessed
It shouldn’t be too surprising that people who get caught up in demon obsession are going to respond very negatively to being told they’re on the wrong track.
But they prove they’re wrong with how they interact with the rest of us. Because it is wrong to demonize (pun intended) fellow believers who participate in neighborhood trick-or-treating. The spiritual pride of those who think they have it right leads to them saying some pretty appalling things.
This guy on the right below is a prime example, and Red Pen Logic does an excellent job of explaining how he’s wrong in this brief video.
The 'Halloween Halters'
As for the “Halloween Halt” event advertised in the graphic at the beginning of this article, I think it’s pretty obvious that accosting families with children to tell them that their Halloween celebration is satanic is highly unlikely to win anyone to the cause of Christ, but it will certainly embitter, anger, and antagonize moms and dads just trying to enjoy this cultural tradition with their little ones.
Two truths the Halloween halters and haters are missing:
- God put you in your neighborhood for a reason.
- One night a year, God literally brings your neighbors to your door.
This is called a gospel opportunity, and next week I’ll share some ideas on how to make it truly a night of light.
This essay previously appeared at the She Speaks Truth Substack.
Did these 6 movies about Satan accidentally summon him to their sets?

Horror has always had a respectability problem. But filmmakers eventually discovered a useful trick for getting around it: Make the monster a metaphor.
The creature in "The Babadook" isn't merely a boogeyman under the bed; it's grief and depression. "It Follows" has been read as everything from an allegory for sexually transmitted disease to a story about sexual trauma and mortality. Jordan Peele's "Get Out" turned body-snatching horror into an examination of race and liberal paternalism. Even "Hereditary," which gives us actual demons, comes wrapped in grief, mental illness, and inherited trauma.
Moore was said to have been decapitated, horribly echoing the death Richardson had devised for the movie.
Nothing wrong with that. Horror works best when it gives physical form to intangible fears.
But the metaphor also provides a convenient escape hatch. Whatever battles of principalities and powers we see on screen, we know the real horror lurks in our minds — best addressed with modern, morally neutral techniques like therapy.
Asking us to believe in monsters that stand for nothing more than themselves — real monsters, in other words — takes us uncomfortably close to an idea Christianity has maintained for 2,000 years: Supernatural evil actually exists.
It's no wonder filmmakers who want their commercial success with a side of art-house respectability don't often go there.
But there might be another reason as well. When filmmakers do attempt to depict the devil, he has a curious way of making himself known through strange disruptions to the production: fires, equipment failures, injuries, even death.
Almost as if he would prefer to be dismissed as a fairy tale.
Here are six movies that took supernatural evil seriously — and the strange things that happened while people were making them.
1. 'The Exorcist'
If any movie were ever cursed, surely it was "The Exorcist." William Friedkin's 1973 adaptation of William Peter Blatty's novel has plenty to say about a broken family, psychiatric medicine, and a priest suffering a crisis of faith.
But when Regan MacNeil starts speaking in strange voices and contorting her body, "The Exorcist" is blunt about the cause: demonic possession. Friedkin brings an almost documentary realism to material that might otherwise have been safely dismissed as gothic fantasy. Audiences fainted, vomited, and fled theaters. The movie became a cultural phenomenon.
And if the stories that emerged from the production are to be believed, audiences weren't the only ones disturbed by its unflinching treatment of evil. The trouble started before Friedkin had even begun shooting in Iraq. A statue of Pazuzu, the demon who possesses Regan, had been built in Burbank and shipped to Mosul for the movie's opening sequence. It never arrived.
Somehow, Pazuzu ended up in Denmark. “It was lost,” Friedkin recalled years later. Shooting in Iraq was delayed for weeks while somebody presumably worked out how to get the demon to the right country.
Things got worse back in New York. In the early hours of the morning, a fire tore through the set of the MacNeil house at 20th Century Fox's studio on West 54th Street.
“The production manager called me at 4 a.m. and said, ‘Don't bother to come to work today,’” Friedkin later recalled.
“I said, ‘Why? Am I fired?’”
No. The set had burned to the ground. Well, most of it had. Regan's bedroom — the room where Friedkin was filming the exorcism — survived. Investigators never established what caused the fire. Friedkin later blamed a pigeon that had flown into a light box.
Production shut down for six weeks while the set was rebuilt. Then Ellen Burstyn hurt her back. During the scene in which Regan strikes her mother, a stuntman attached to a wire was supposed to yank Burstyn backward. After several takes, Burstyn told Friedkin that the stuntman was pulling too hard.
“Well, it has to look real,” she remembered him replying.
On the next take, she landed hard on her coccyx and screamed in genuine pain. Friedkin kept the camera rolling. Burstyn later summed up her relationship with the director rather neatly: “He was always great with me. Except when he permanently injured my spine.”
Burstyn went on to do many more films. Others in the cast weren't so lucky. Jack MacGowran, who plays director Burke Dennings — murdered by the possessed Regan in the movie — finished his work and died of influenza at 54. Vasiliki Maliaros, who played Father Karras' mother, also died during production.
In the 1998 BBC documentary "The Fear of God: 25 Years of 'The Exorcist,'" Burstyn remembers others connected with the production dying as well: the newborn child of an assistant cameraman, the man responsible for refrigerating the bedroom set, and a night watchman.
None died in accidents while shooting the movie. But there were enough deaths, injuries, delays, and other mishaps that people began talking about a curse.
The actor playing the conflicted priest and trained psychiatrist who attempts to save Regan got a more explicit warning. In "The Fear of God," Jason Miller recalls eating and studying his lines at the Jesuit residence while filming at Georgetown. One day, an elderly priest handed him a medal of the Blessed Virgin and asked whether Miller had ever heard of “intervention.”
“If you do anything on the devil, anything at all on the devil to reveal him as the trickster that he is,” Miller remembered the priest telling him, “he will seek retribution against you, or he will even try to stop what you're trying to do to unmask him.”
The priest told Miller the medal would protect him.
About three days later, Miller was walking through the Jesuit residence on his way to dinner when something caught his eye in one of the side rooms. He went back and looked, only to see the old priest lying there in a casket.
By 1974, Castle of Frankenstein magazine was running an article with the wonderfully unsubtle headline The Curse That Hangs Over "The Exorcist."
Eventually, Friedkin called the Rev. Thomas Bermingham, the Jesuit priest serving as a technical adviser to the movie.
“Would you come down and exorcise the set?” Bermingham recalled Friedkin asking in "The Fear of God."
Bermingham refused. “I don't want to increase anxiety or anything like that,” he told him. But Bermingham wasn't laughing off the possibility that they had gotten themselves into something strange.
“There was definitely a feeling that it could happen,” he says in the documentary. “We were playing around with something. I even felt it. I felt we were playing around with something I shouldn't be playing around with.”
He blessed the production instead, just in case.
2. 'The Passion of the Christ'
Mel Gibson's 2004 "The Passion of the Christ" isn't a horror movie, although anyone who has sat through the scourging scene might dispute the point.
But neither is it the kind of "faith-based" film that confines the battle between sin and redemption to the dialogue. Gibson keeps the personification of evil in the frame.
Satan stalks Jesus through Gethsemane. He moves through the crowd as Christ suffers. During the scourging, he carries a grotesque child. After Christ's death, Gibson cuts away from Calvary to show Satan defeated. On screen, Satan can only howl in rage. What happened off screen suggests a more active opposition.
Jim Caviezel, the man playing Jesus, was struck by lightning. Producer Steve McEveety recalled seeing the bolt hit him from roughly 100 feet away. Assistant director Jan Michelini was struck too.
Which would already make for a pretty good story, except Michelini had reportedly been struck by lightning once before during the same production.
Caviezel later joked that the strike lit him up “like a Christmas tree.” Contemporary reports said neither man was seriously injured.
Caviezel had previously turned down three opportunities to play Jesus. He accepted Gibson's offer because, he later said, he sensed the director's commitment to telling the Passion story “without restraint.”
Be careful what you pray for.
The lightning strike was far from the only hardship. Caviezel separated his shoulder carrying the cross. He developed hypothermia while hanging nearly naked in bitter winds during the crucifixion scenes, followed by pneumonia and a lung infection. The elaborate makeup left his skin raw. During the scourging, one of the actors missed the protective board behind Caviezel and struck him across the back hard enough to tear the skin.
At one particularly miserable point, hanging on the cross in the cold, Caviezel remembered crying out to God:
“So you don't want this movie to be made?”
Caviezel kept making it anyway; appropriately enough, the suffering itself began to serve the movie. He received Communion daily, prayed the rosary during the long hours in makeup, and went to confession during production.
Caviezel also came to see his suffering as part of what made the performance work. Recreating the crucifixion on a comfortable soundstage, he later said, would have lost some of its “effect and reality.” The cold, the injuries, the exhaustion — things that might have stopped another production — became part of the movie Gibson and Caviezel had set out to make.
3. 'The Omen'
If "The Exorcist" created the cursed-movie template, "The Omen" perfected it.
The 1976 movie is even less interested in metaphor. The little boy at the center of the story really is the Antichrist, and the people who figure this out have a nasty habit of dying before they can do much about it.
Bob Munger, the advertising executive who helped originate the premise, later recalled warning producer Harvey Bernhard about making the movie in the first place.
“If the devil's greatest single weapon is to be invisible,” Munger told him, “and you're going to do something which takes away his invisibility to millions of people, he won't want that to happen.”
Bernhard eventually became convinced Munger was right. “The devil was at work,” he said years later.
The stories began before audiences had even seen the movie. In April 1976, New York magazine was already reporting that Gregory Peck's plane had been struck by lightning while he was traveling to London to make "The Omen." The magazine named screenwriter David Seltzer and director Richard Donner in connection with troubled flights as well. Executive producer Mace Neufeld later recalled a lightning strike on his own flight. The surviving accounts make it difficult to say exactly how many people were struck by lightning, which is not ordinarily a problem a movie production has.
The close calls continued once Neufeld reached London. He later recalled walking out of his London hotel with his wife when a bomb exploded about a block and a half away. The couple also had reservations at Scott's, the Mayfair restaurant bombed by the IRA in November 1975. Both bombings are real; Neufeld recounted his brushes with them in the 2020 documentary series "Cursed Films."
For one of the movie's most memorable scenes, Damien visits a safari park and the baboons go berserk at the sight of him. The sequence was filmed at Windsor Safari Park. During the production period, 22-year-old keeper Sidney Bamford was killed there by a tiger. Later curse accounts claimed the keeper died immediately after the filmmakers shot the sequence. Contemporary reports establish the tiger attack, but not that timing or that Bamford personally worked with the movie.
And then there was the airplane the filmmakers didn't take. Donner later recalled that the production had intended to use an aircraft for aerial filming, only to lose it at the last minute when it was reassigned to Chinese customers. According to the story, the plane subsequently crashed.
There was a remarkably similar accident during production. On November 20, 1975, a Hawker Siddeley executive jet carrying a Chinese delegation took off from Dunsfold Aerodrome in Surrey, flew into a flock of lapwings, lost power in both engines, overran the runway, and struck a passing car.
All nine people aboard the aircraft survived. All six people in the car died.
The timing and the Chinese passengers make it a plausible match for the crash Donner remembered. What the investigation doesn't establish is that "The Omen" crew had ever booked that particular plane.
The strangest story came after "The Omen" was finished.
Special-effects designer John Richardson had helped create one of the movie's most gruesome deaths. Photographer Keith Jennings is standing by the side of a road when a sheet of glass slides from a truck and takes off his head. Richardson's effects team accomplished it with a rigged dummy and replica of actor David Warner's head.
In August 1976, Richardson was in the Netherlands working on "A Bridge Too Far" when he was involved in a car crash. Richardson survived. Sculptor Liz Moore, traveling with him, did not. Biographical accounts date her death to August 13.
Over the years, the accident acquired two details that made it irresistible to anyone writing about the curse of "The Omen." Moore was said to have been decapitated, horribly echoing the death Richardson had devised for the movie. And Richardson was said to have emerged from the wreck near a road sign reading:
Ommen — 66.6 km.
The crash and Moore's death are well attested. Those two grisly details are not. No contemporary report or official record located in our research establishes that Moore was decapitated. Richardson did later recall a roadside marker involving sixes and a road leading toward Ommen, but the famous “Ommen — 66.6 km” sign has never been independently verified.
By then it hardly mattered. "The Omen" had acquired a curse almost as elaborate as its screenplay.
Fox eventually made the legend part of the product. By 2000, the DVD included a featurette called "Curse or Coincidence?"
4. 'The Possession'
The 2012 movie "The Possession" had something most demon movies don't: a supposedly genuine haunted object behind it.
The “dybbuk box” was an old wine cabinet whose strange history had first attracted widespread attention on eBay. Kevin Mannis supplied a terrifying history involving a Holocaust survivor and a malicious Jewish spirit. Owners supposedly experienced nightmares, illnesses, and other misfortunes.
The story spread online, made its way into newspapers, and eventually became the inspiration for a Hollywood movie.
Then odd things started happening on the movie.
Director Ole Bornedal recalled production lights exploding even though they weren't switched on. About a week after filming ended, he said, a warehouse containing props from the movie burned; Bornedal said he never learned what caused the fire.
Years later came a fairly devastating blow to the legend: Mannis admitted that he had invented the box's elaborate backstory. So much for the haunted box.
Except Mannis inventing a story about a wine cabinet doesn't explain why Bornedal said lights exploded. It doesn't explain the warehouse fire either.
Bornedal himself offered the best skeptical argument. “Would we have noticed if this had been a ‘Love Story’? Perhaps not.”
RELATED: Inside the mind of a Catholic exorcist: Fr. Chad Ripperger talks shop with Shawn Ryan

5. 'The Omen' (2006)
Thirty years after the original "Omen," Fox decided to make it again, if only to take advantage of a uniquely demonic release date: June 6, 2006, or 6/6/06.
Director John Moore had been raised Catholic, and maybe that's why he found the strange happenings that befell him so unnerving.
Two days of footage involving the discovery of Damien's 666 birthmark were destroyed. Moore received an airfare costing exactly $666. And a promotional videotape apparently wound up overwritten with ESPN footage even though, Moore said, the machine wasn't capable of recording.
Moore was disturbed enough to wonder whether making the movie might offend God. Eventually, he reasoned that a movie acknowledging the existence of evil necessarily acknowledged the existence of good.
As for Fox, the curse was great publicity. Although perhaps even the box-office bean counters were a little shaken by the movie's first-day box office:
$12,633,666.
What were the odds? Pretty good, as it turned out. Fox distribution executive Bruce Snyder admitted that the studio had adjusted the reported estimate to give it the demonic final digits.
“We were having a little fun,” he said.
6. 'The Deliverance'
By the time Lee Daniels made "The Deliverance" in 2024, the old stories had become part of Hollywood folklore.
Daniels had read about what supposedly happened during the making of "The Exorcist" and "Poltergeist." His Episcopalian mother warned him about making a movie dealing with demonic evil.
“She was just like, ‘You are a portal. You work from a place of groundedness, and your soul is open, and I don't want anything bad happening to you,’” Daniels recalled.
He took precautions. The production brought in an ordained Christian who conducted deliverances on set. Daniels also instituted daily prayer circles.
“We prayed every day,” he said.
Netflix HR reminded him that Christian prayer couldn't be mandatory. Daniels told anyone who didn't want to participate that they were free to leave.
“There were a few that left, but for the most part, most of them wanted to be covered by the blood of Jesus,” he recalled. “They knew what was up.”
The precautions didn't prevent "The Deliverance" from acquiring a curse story of its own.
Daniels' sister had appeared in every movie he made as his “good luck charm.” For "The Deliverance," she appeared in a scene with Glenn Close involving chemotherapy.
Two days later, Daniels said, his sister was diagnosed with lung cancer.
“My dog died on set,” he added.
Mo'Nique had a more explicable brush with the supposed curse. While filming an outdoor scene involving a demon, Mo'Nique said material being blown around the set made it difficult for her to breathe. Afterward, she was hospitalized with an enlarged thyroid.
“It was a lot of things happening with ‘The Deliverance,’” she recalled.
None of this proves that anything supernatural was happening. Mo'Nique herself described a perfectly physical reason for becoming ill. Cancer diagnoses and dead dogs require no demonic explanation.
But half a century after "The Exorcist," Daniels went into another movie about demonic possession worried enough about the old curse stories to pray over his set every day and bring in someone to perform deliverances.
Then his sister got cancer, his dog died, and one of his stars wound up in the hospital.
From Disney’s ‘Hexed’ to Barbie songs: How kids’ entertainment sells self as savior

Walt Disney Animation Studios’ upcoming fantasy-comedy “Hexed” — which follows teenage witch Billie Doe as she discovers her magical powers and leaves behind normal life to join the world of witches — is set to hit theaters this November.
BlazeTV host Allie Beth Stuckey already has major concerns about the film, starting with the premise.
“It's presenting witchcraft and being a witch not as a bad thing — not as like the evil witch from 'Snow White' — but actually possibly as a good thing, as a neutral thing, or even as a superpower,” she says.
On this episode of “Relatable,” Allie is joined by Jenn Nizza, a former psychic medium who left the New Age after converting to Christianity, to explore how witchcraft and occultism have seeped their way into mainstream culture, including the areas that most impact children.
While movies like “Hexed” and “K-Pop Demon Hunters,” among others, deliberately lean into open witchcraft and demonic themes, other kid films and forms of entertainment take a more subliminal approach.
Allie shares that she recently had to stop her young daughter from listening to Barbie music.
“Every single song is about loving yourself and believing in yourself ... and if you are just more yourself and you live out your authentic expressions, then you'll have all the power that you need to accomplish anything that you want in life,” she says.
“It’s laying the exact opposite theological foundation than the one that I want to be set for her, which is that all of your sufficiency and strength and wisdom and power is going to come from Christ, not from yourself at all,” she adds.
Nizza argues that even something as seemingly benign as Disney’s classic “wishing upon a star” trope is designed to confuse and corrupt a child’s identity.
“It just looks like something ... hidden in a Barbie movie. I mean, nostalgia plays a big part. It'll be something again that focuses on yourself, on the idea of your heart, of love, wishing on things like the Disney wishing upon a star,” she says.
“Unfortunately, we're seeing such disastrous things going on in our culture that are very terrifying quite honestly that revolve around 'you can be whoever you want, and if you're not comfortable with where you are, you can change things about yourself.’ ... It's a confusion of identity. That's what it is,” she declares.
It’s no surprise to Nizza, however, because she believes Satan almost always “attacks through identity.”
“Sex, gender, weight, hair color, whatever it may be. Anything to confuse that person and get them away from having a real identity, a liberating and salvific identity in Christ Jesus,” she says.
“We want [our kids] to know they're made in the image of God, that He fearfully and wonderfully made them and all of those things, but we need to make sure that they are deriving their confidence from the right places — not from their own power because to me that's what lays the groundwork for some of this really, really dark and evil stuff,” adds Allie.
To hear more, watch the episode above.
Want more from Allie Beth Stuckey?
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After 800 years, why do we still treat St. Francis as a glorified garden gnome?

One of the first things I did when we moved into our semi-furnished rental last year was place a 12-inch concrete statue of the Blessed Virgin Mary — one of the few possessions I'd recovered from the ashes of our house in the Palisades — by the front door.
I thought the place needed a brazenly Catholic touch to counteract the tasteful Westside L.A. “spirituality” already on display: the Native American kitsch, the Henry Miller quote in the powder room, the reclining Buddha in the garden by the front door.
The closer Francis drew to Christ, the more intensely Catholic he became.
Never mind that next to the Buddha the owner had already put one of the Church's most famous saints: a tonsured St. Francis of Assisi, cradling a dove in his hands, rabbits gathered around the birdbath at his feet.
That Francis was even welcome at such an ecumenical gathering seemed to confirm my general impression of him as a kind of generic Christian Zen master. The statue looked like a glorified garden gnome to me.
Without even realizing it, I'd bought into modernity's slow domestication of one of the most radical Christians who ever lived.
Sainthood without sanctity
G.K. Chesterton noticed the problem more than a century ago. Modern admirers, he wrote, had learned to “appreciate the saint almost without the sanctity.”
Francis did not grow up poor. He was born in Assisi in 1181 or 1182, the son of a prosperous cloth merchant. As a young man, he enjoyed fine clothes, spent money freely, and dreamed not of feeding sparrows but of military glory.
Around the age of 20, he went to war against neighboring Perugia, was captured after Assisi's defeat, and spent months as a prisoner. Illness followed. Another attempt at a military career ended with Francis turning back before he had really begun it.
His conversion came slowly, through humiliation, failure, illness, and prayer.
Look at one of those garden statues of Francis, surrounded by birds and rabbits, and it's easy to imagine sharing at least a little in his saintliness. I like animals. I can be nice to a bird.
But Francis learned to love God's creation from the bottom up, beginning with nature at its most capriciously cruel and monstrous: leprosy.
Sweetness of soul and body
The disease could horribly disfigure the human body, and in Francis's world, its sufferers lived largely apart from everyone else. Francis, like everyone else, was repulsed by them.
Thomas of Celano, his earliest biographer, says that Francis once found even the sight of leper houses unbearable. If he spotted one from two miles away, he would cover his nose with his hands.
Then, Celano writes, Francis encountered a leper and did what would previously have been unthinkable: He approached the man and kissed him.
Francis' own account is less dramatic but probably more revealing. “The Lord himself led me among them,” he wrote near the end of his life. He began showing them mercy, and what had once seemed bitter became “sweetness of soul and body.”
Celano tells us what that mercy looked like. Francis went to live among lepers, washing them and cleaning the pus from their sores.
To repair the Church
According to Franciscan tradition, Francis was later praying before a crucifix in the crumbling church of San Damiano outside Assisi when he heard Christ tell him to repair His church. Francis, quite reasonably, took this literally, rebuilding San Damiano and helping restore other dilapidated churches around Assisi. Only later would the command acquire its more famous second meaning. Francis would spend the rest of his life repairing the Church in a rather more ambitious sense.
His new life brought him into increasingly bitter conflict with his father. Pietro Bernardone had spent years building a prosperous business and raising a son who now seemed determined to give the proceeds away. The dispute culminated in dramatic fashion. Standing before the bishop of Assisi, Francis surrendered his claim to his father's property and stripped off the clothes his father had provided him. The bishop covered the naked young man with his cloak.
The movement that formed around Francis eventually became the Order of Friars Minor. Its members worked, prayed, preached, cared for the sick, and lived without the ordinary security provided by possessions. Francis himself insisted on manual labor. “I worked with my hands, and I still desire to work,” he recalled near the end of his life.
Chesterton put the intensity of his asceticism more colorfully: “He devoured fasting as a man devours food.”
The peace of Christ
None of this means the familiar Francis of birds and flowers is a fraud. Francis really did possess an extraordinary love for creation. His "Canticle of the Creatures" praises God through Brother Sun, Sister Moon, wind, water, fire, and “our Sister Mother Earth.” The poem later supplied the title of Pope Francis' 2015 encyclical Laudato si’.
But Brother Sun and Sister Moon did not emerge from a pleasant afternoon spent admiring the Umbrian countryside. Francis composed the first part of the "Canticle" near the end of his life, sick and suffering at San Damiano.
When Jorge Mario Bergoglio was elected pope in 2013, his friend Cardinal Claudio Hummes embraced him and said, “Don't forget the poor!” Bergoglio later recalled that he immediately thought of Francis of Assisi — the man of poverty, peace, and creation. He became the first pope to take the name Francis.
Visiting Assisi later that year, he addressed the Francis most of us think we know.
“Franciscan peace is not something saccharine,” the pope said. Nor, he added, was it “a kind of pantheistic harmony with forces of the cosmos.”
Behind enemy lines
Pope Francis' contention that "the peace of Saint Francis is the peace of Christ” helps illuminate one of the most striking episodes of Francis' life.
In 1219, while Christian and Muslim armies were fighting the Fifth Crusade in Egypt, Francis crossed the battle lines near Damietta and entered the camp of Sultan al-Malik al-Kamil.
An eyewitness account helps us understand how extraordinary this was. Jacques de Vitry, bishop of Acre, wrote the following year that this unarmed friar had walked into enemy territory in the middle of a war and preached to the Muslims for several days. The sultan eventually had him returned safely to the Christian lines.
What Francis and al-Kamil said to each other is harder to know. Later accounts supplied increasingly elaborate details, including Francis offering to undergo an ordeal by fire.
But we do know what Francis thought friars should do among Muslims, because he wrote it down. They could live among non-Christians “without quarrels or disputes,” he instructed, acknowledging themselves as Christians. Or when they believed it pleased God, they could explicitly proclaim the Christian faith. Francis had walked unarmed across a battlefield to do exactly that.
Closing the gap
Francis' quieter contributions to Christianity proved just as enduring. In 1223, at Greccio, Francis arranged a manger with hay, an ox, and a donkey so worshipers could contemplate the conditions in which Christ had been born. A priest celebrated Mass over the manger. While there were no statues playing Mary, Joseph, or the infant Jesus, the celebration nevertheless became the ancestor of the Christmas crèche now found in homes and churches around the world.
Greccio also tells us something about the peculiar intensity of Francis' mysticism. Again and again, he seemed determined to collapse the distance between himself and the physical life of Christ. At Greccio, he wanted people to encounter Bethlehem almost as if they had been there: the hay, the animals, the feeding trough, the poverty into which Christ had been born.
A year later, at La Verna, that identification with Christ became more mysterious — and, if the Franciscan accounts are true, physical. During a mountain retreat, Francis experienced a vision of the crucified Christ and received wounds corresponding to the wounds of the crucifixion — the stigmata. The claim did not first surface centuries later. Brother Elias announced the wounds in a letter sent after Francis' death, and Thomas of Celano described them in the biography he wrote for Francis' canonization.
Francis himself left no account of receiving them.
RELATED: Pope Leo XIV: The right leader for a church in crisis

Brother Fire
By then, his body was falling apart. Francis was losing his sight to a painful disease of the eyes. Doctors tried plasters and eye washes. They opened his veins to bleed him. His condition only grew worse. Finally, a physician proposed something more drastic: burning the flesh around his failing eye with a red-hot iron.
When the doctor placed the instrument in the fire, the man who had written of Brother Sun and Sister Moon extended his friendship to the very element about to cause him terrible pain.
“My Brother Fire,” Francis addressed it, asking it to “be courtly to me in this hour.”
The hot iron was drawn across his face from his ear toward his eyebrow. It didn't work. Near death, according to Thomas of Celano, Francis asked his brothers to lay him naked on the bare ground so he could greet yet another member of his family of creation: “our Sister Bodily Death." On the evening of October 3, 1226, at the Portiuncula, she arrived. Francis was probably 44 or 45 years old. Two years later, Pope Gregory IX declared him a saint.
Today, October 3, marks exactly 800 years since Francis' death. Few Catholic saints have traveled as far outside Catholicism as Francis. Environmentalists claim his love of creation. Peace activists invoke his encounter with the sultan. Protestants have found plenty to admire too. Christianity Today has included him among its “131 Christians Everyone Should Know.” One evangelical writer simply called him “our Francis, too.”
And of course, he turns up beside Buddhas in Los Angeles gardens.
Catholic to the core
But the Church is observing his 800th anniversary in unmistakably Catholic fashion. At the direction of Pope Leo XIV, a special Jubilee Year of St. Francis began January 10 and continues through January 10, 2027. The Apostolic Penitentiary is offering Catholics a plenary indulgence for pilgrimages to designated Franciscan churches and other places connected to Francis, accompanied by the prescribed prayers and observances and the usual conditions of confession, Communion, and prayer for the pope's intentions.
A plenary indulgence is not the first thing that comes to mind when most people look at the little friar holding the bird. But neither, probably, is Francis' "Testament."
Francis dictated the document near the end of his life, partly to make sure the movement he was leaving behind remained recognizably Catholic. There he writes of his reverence for priests “according to the manner of the holy Roman Church.” He says he sees in this world nothing bodily of Christ except the Eucharist, which he wants “honored above all things.” He recalls that when God first gave him brothers, he wrote down their way of life and “the Lord Pope confirmed it for me.”
The "Testament" ends by telling his friars to keep it alongside their Rule and read the two together, so that they might observe the Rule “in a more Catholic manner.”
You don't need a specific creed to admire Francis, or even to follow him for quite a distance. But follow Francis far enough, and you eventually find yourself at the threshold of the Church and all it contains: the Eucharist, priests, confession, obedience, the pope.
At the same time, his example strips away centuries of polemic and invites us to see the Church more clearly. Here was a man almost comically ill-suited to the idea that Christianity is fundamentally about clericalism, bureaucracy, or institutional power. He owned nothing. He wasn't a priest. He preached to lepers and Muslims, slept on the ground, rebuilt ruined churches with his hands, and founded a movement whose very name emphasized the littleness of its members.
And yet the closer he drew to Christ, the more intensely Catholic he became.
Chesterton saw in that relationship something of the mystery of the Church itself: a human institution that somehow provides a path to the divine. “The casket that was locked in Palestine can be unlocked in Umbria,” he wrote, “for the Church is the keeper of the keys.”
Jordan Peterson Wants To Keep His Faith Private But Also Make A Profit Off It
Jordan Peterson still wants to keep his beliefs private. Fine, but then he should stop using God to line his coffers.