What Really Happens During an Exorcism? The Truth Behind Demonic Entry
In a London home in 2018, paramedics encountered a scene both surreal and tragic. A 39-year-old man lay lifeless on a bed, four hours after he complained of a sore throat, as his family knelt around him in fervent prayer. Frantic, they had restrained him with ropes and spoken scripture over his body, convinced he was possessed by a demon.[1] Witnesses at the trial later recalled hearing his brother shout, “Kennedy, I command you to rise in the name of Jesus,” as he lay gasping for air.[2] In the eerie silence that followed, only a violent crisis remained. A prosecutor dryly observed that, no matter the affliction, “you wouldn’t normally ask Jesus to cure a scratchy throat.” The Ife family’s effort at exorcism ended with a man’s death and a jury’s stunned verdict: not guilty of manslaughter. But this modern case has come to symbolize something much larger—a revival of ancient fears and beliefs that demons can enter our world through ordinary doors.
Section Index
For many readers, the notion that demons could literally enter someone sounds like fantasy. We’ve grown up with the idea that exorcism is a cinematic rarity, courtesy of The Exorcist and similar films. As religious scholar Andrew Chesnut notes, Americans once thought demonic possession was “extraordinarily rare, almost covert,” an assumption largely shaped by that 1973 movie.[3] Today, however, reality is striking a different tone. Newspaper reports and academic studies reveal that exorcisms have become surprisingly commonplace—so much so that Chesnut says some priests now even perform them by cellphone.[3] In fact, a recent survey found roughly half of American adults believe in the Devil and that possession is possible.[4] Even in secular Britain, a few percent of people tell pollsters they think good and evil spirits affect our lives. (By contrast, majorities in places like sub-Saharan Africa may never question it.) So the London tragedy is not an isolated cult oddity but a data point in a global phenomenon: belief in demons is very much alive.
Gateway Sins and Moral Logic
At its core, the term “demonic entry” is modern jargon for an old idea: that certain actions, sins or circumstances open a door to malevolent spirits. You won’t find that phrase in theology textbooks, but in evangelical sermons and folklore the concept is ubiquitous. Charismatics often speak of “gateway sins”—anything from occult dabbling (Ouija boards, sorcery, tarot reading) to vices (drug abuse, pornography, unrepented wrongdoing). The list can be as mundane as anger or as exotic as astrological curses. Behind these tropes lies a simple logic: if a person does something reprehensible, they deserve spiritual punishment, so a demon can slip in. If they confess and repent, that door can be shut. This is, of course, a theological interpretation. Skeptics would argue that the concept just moralizes human error. One contemporary commentator wryly notes that if all our psychological problems were actually “demonic entry,” there’d better be a lot more priests than psychiatrists.
Medieval Fears and Political Allegory
This blend of fear and morals is very old. In medieval Europe, everyone from peasants to popes believed the physical and spiritual worlds constantly interacted. Catholic Church ritualized this in its rites: medieval exorcism manuals abound with prayers to expel demons from people, buildings and objects. If an outbreak of madness or illness befell a village, demons were often blamed. A canonical example comes from the 8th century Carolingian court. Einhard’s chronicle tells how a young girl tormented by a demon delivered a message: “I am Wiggo, Satan’s doorkeeper of the Franks.” This demon boasted that he had ruined the crops, killed livestock and caused famine—all because the King and his court were steeped in sin.[5] In other words, human vice had literally unlocked misfortune. Medieval listeners would have nodded—in their worldview, the boundaries between natural disaster and supernatural evil were thin. (As one scholar puts it, such tales were not just horror stories but political allegory in medieval dress.[5])
From Possession to Obsession
Over time, Christian thought even distinguished flavors of possession. By the late Middle Ages, physicians and theologians began to treat aberrant behavior compassionately as illness. The concept of demonic obsession emerged for cases where people were plagued by evil voices or temptations, without being fully taken over. This shift mattered: it meant someone could be sick without being condemned as inherently evil. Historian Deeana Klepper notes that viewing an afflicted person as obsessed (rather than possessed) offered a “second chance”—it allowed for spiritual or moral healing instead of outright execution or permanent shunning.[6] In essence, the demon was still blamed, but the human victim was treated with pity rather than terror.
Cross-Cultural Spirit Entry
Even outside Christianity, cultures have analogous ideas of “spirit entry.” In Jewish mysticism, the dybbuk is a well-known concept: an unquiet soul that attaches itself to a living person. Medieval rabbis wrote exorcisms to expel dybbuks, which were said to be wandering souls of the dead who have unfinished business.[7][8] In each case, a ritual is required to force the intruder out. In Islam, the Quran explicitly acknowledges jinn—spiritual beings of free will, created long ago. Most Muslim-majority cultures accept that a malevolent jinn can overtake a person; these days reciting Quranic verses (called ruqyah) is the standard cure. As one report on European immigrants found, many Muslims go to clinics for hijama (healing cups) and Quran-led exorcisms, convinced that Western psychology “cannot exorcise jinn.”[9] One young Dutch raqi (exorcist-priest) told a journalist that about 70% of his patients’ problems were due to evil jinn, so he must intervene with prayer and oil.[9] (Not all Muslims believe in literal jinn possession—a Dutch psychiatrist now treats “jinn beliefs” like a cultural syndrome. But many do, especially among migrants.)
In Latin American and African diasporas, syncretic faiths blur the lines further. Haitian Vodou, Cuban Santería and Brazilian Candomblé have pantheons of spirits (loa or orixás) that possess worshippers during ceremonies. Pentecostal clergy will describe those as demonic possession in Christian terms. Andrew Chesnut notes that in Brazil the growth of Pentecostal and charismatic churches has translated every local spirit into a battle against demons.[10] In Mexico, even the popular figure La Santa Muerte (a folk saint) is labeled “satanic” by conservative Catholics. In other words, across cultures the supernatural is real, but who’s the “true good Spirit” vs a demon can depend on who’s doing the talking.[10]
The Enlightenment Shift
So: world religions are replete with ways evil can get inside us. How, then, did Western eyes start seeing it differently? By the 18th and 19th centuries, science and medicine co-opted many cases. Ergotism, epilepsy and mental illness got natural explanations. Sigmund Freud, looking back, argued the Devil was really just a metaphor for our inner drives. As he quipped in 1908, “the devil is nothing but the personification of the unconscious instinctual life.”[11] In other words, demons are projections of the repressed self. Freud even wrote that the medieval woman burned as a witch would nowadays be shrugged off as insane or hysterical.[12] From a clinical standpoint, demonic possession is not a literal medical diagnosis—but psychiatrists acknowledge it lingers in social attitudes. The historian Klepper notes that, to this day, calling a delusion “demonic” is simply one psychological narrative; it might comfort believers to externalize guilt, but it has been replaced by secular diagnoses in hospitals.[13]
The Satanic Panic
Yet one need not be a believer to find this all fascinating. The ebb and flow of “demonic entry” is a mirror of our collective psyche. When society was unstable in the modern era, we have seen waves of panic that echo older fears. The classic example is America’s 1980s “Satanic Panic”: heavy metal bands, fantasy games and daycare teachers were accused (with no evidence) of opening gateways to Satan.[14] Courts tried and sometimes sent people to prison for alleged ritual abuse that never actually happened. Cultural critics say these fears broke out because people were anxious about changing family structures and new media. In sociological terms, this was a “moral panic”—a community identifying a vague boogeyman to explain what frightens them.[14] The result was dozens of sensational news headlines about hidden cults, ritual murders and mind control—all serving as newspaper proof that demonology was far from dead. (By the late 1990s, apologies followed, but the stories remain in our folklore.)
Modern Belief Statistics
In between panics, there’s the quieter persistence of belief. Surveys show that around 50% of Americans still affirm demons are real,[4] and within some denominations a majority take that literally. For example, about 70% of white evangelical Protestants say they believe Satan is an actual being, not a symbol; many of those also say they themselves have felt “demonized” during prayer. By contrast, only a few percent of secularists or mainline denominations concur. These numbers are significant for culture. As one political scientist notes, when even politicians start using “evil spirit” metaphors (calling a rival a “demon,” or a catastrophe a “curse”), it is a rhetorical signal of absolutes. We may smile at it, but such language influences how people conceive conflicts and tragedies. In that sense, believing in demonic entry becomes a story we tell ourselves, about clear villains behind complex social ills.
The Pentecostal Surge
Meanwhile, religion scholars and clergy describe the resurgence not as mass hysteria but as demand meeting supply. The “Pentecostal surge” of the late 20th century is often blamed. Dr. Chesnut and others report that in the Global South—Africa, Latin America, parts of Asia—Pentecostal and charismatic churches have grown explosively. These communities emphasize Holy Spirit and spiritual warfare in very tangible ways. They’ve even become institutionalized in megachurches. For instance, a Brazilian congregation reportedly devotes entire Friday-night services to “deliverance,” complete with baptismal tanks and prayer lines, though they might not call it “exorcism.”[15] Faced with this, the Catholic Church has likewise stepped up. In 2017 the Vatican did something remarkable: it published an official English version of the ancient Latin exorcism rite for the first time since 1614.[16] Pope Francis convened a global exorcist conference with hundreds of priests in Rome, literally to handle the rising caseload. And in Europe today there are even female Islamic healers charging modest fees to treat suspected jinn possession—for example, a British imam offering to “free the jinn” for 60 pounds.[17] The takeaway is that to growing numbers of believers, these practices are entirely mainstream. It’s a true multifaith boom in exorcism.
Legal and Ethical Concerns
Yet not everyone regards this as an unequivocal good. The very fact that such cases can be deadly has led to scrutiny. In some countries, courts have intervened. In Italy, exorcists must report any priest who uses exorcism without authorization. In India, more than one state has outlawed exorcisms on minors. In Britain, officials have begun to ask training police to recognize when a frantic believer might need mental health intervention rather than a ritual. At the same time, advocates defend exorcism as a last resort for the incurably afflicted. One priest argues that if modern medicine fails, faith should remain an option—after all, he points out, we still believe in miracles in other fields.
And there is a human dimension: fear and tragedy are real for the families involved. Take the Ifes: by one measure, their heartbreak was genuine. As reported, those siblings had never seen their brother act so wildly until those last days.[18] In their terror and grief, it made sense to them that something supernatural was happening—a possibility whispered by their church. After the acquittal they returned to their lives having lost a loved one and carrying a profound story of grief tangled with faith. Others in similar situations interpret these events differently, but no one in that room can doubt the raw emotion that flowed.
Metaphor and Reality
In stories like these, “demonic entry” functions partly as a metaphor. It externalizes personal pain: if depression or fits or confusion are caused by a demon, at least one can fight it with rituals, prayers and community. It also offers a scapegoat for tragedy: perhaps a distraught parent finds it more bearable to imagine their child was ill and spiritually afflicted than to accept an inexplicable death. As anthropologist Emma Park suggests, narratives of possession can help survivors make sense of senseless suffering.
Of course, fully secular perspectives see it all differently. Modern neuroscience would say demons aren’t needed to explain epilepsy or psychosis. In fact, diseases like rabies, typhoid fever or severe mental illnesses were all blamed on the Devil in pre-scientific eras. Today, a hospital is more likely to prescribe valproate than an exorcism. But as Carl Jung noted (regarding societies, not just individuals), ancient symbols often reappear in new forms. Demonic possession tales are the psychological residue of times when unexplained threats stalked a village and religion was the only map for dark corners. And even now, sudden personality changes or frightening hallucinations look like demons to those without access to advanced care.
Even the secular intellects echo the language. Freud’s remark that the devil was merely the unconscious alive plays oddly well today. In this way, psychiatry has its own version of demonic entry: we speak of “letting it out” if we unleash repressed traumas, or of “feeling haunted” by past sins. We personify our mind’s demons, too, in therapy (“the inner critic,” “inner child,” etc.). But at least in therapy, unlike in exorcism, those dialogues happen within a person, not from voices coming through them.
Through all this, modern culture can still indulge its appetite for horror and wonder. Netflix shows like Evil, social media vignettes of dramatic “deliverances,” and even church websites advertise exorcism lodges. Some teenagers dress as demons at festivals, ironically chiding Satan for being “played out.” Others earnestly keep vigilant, looking for any glint of “satanic panic” signs in the news. Meanwhile, fiction has not forgotten these themes. Novels like Hugo Lunny’s Lacuna, for instance, explore a certain spiritual emptiness that hints at an unnamed evil—a playful, literary take on this ancient fear. Every Halloween, of course, the iconography of demons and doorways fills comic books and costumes, as if we are still enchanted by the idea that a malignant spirit might be hiding in the shadows.
What can we make of it all? Demonic entry is not a phenomenon that yields to easy answers. On one hand, it is clearly a holdover from pre-modern times, a symbolic way of grappling with suffering and evil. On the other hand, it has concrete effects in the world: it motivates charities in Pentecostal churches, influences the training of priests, and even shapes how some courts rule on family disputes. As Chesnut observes, the drama of exorcism ultimately “seeks to establish who is good and who (or what) is evil.”[19] In that sense, it remains a way to map morality onto life’s chaos.
We can say with confidence: there are no actual demon-spirits prowling London parlors or New York hospitals. But we must also acknowledge that the belief in demonic entry fills a psychological and cultural role. It provides a framework—however flawed—for people to interpret the unexplainable. And it reminds us that, even in 2025, we carry a bit of ancient folklore in our modern souls. Whether that is comforting or dangerous depends on what we do with it. If we treat it as a metaphor for evil and work to heal people in the name of that narrative, it might save lives. If we treat it as literal truth, without compassion or caution, it can end lives too. The stakes of believing in demons, after all, continue to be very real.
