I read The Exorcist years ago, shortly after it was a best-seller. It changed my life in a subtle but profound way, and its effects continue to this day. I never saw the movie.

The story is not about the possessed girl, though a lot of the story is spent on her. The movie, of course, was controversial because of its explicit portrayal of her possession. The actress was not allowed to watch the movie, because she was to young to see the scenes in which she had the part of the girl.

But the book is not about the girl or possession, it is about Father Karras and his crisis of faith.

The people he serves are the dregs of the city: the homeless, the bums and drunks, the prostitutes, the criminals, the disturbed. And they smell bad. Serving them is a major part of Father Karras’s job as a priest. He has been thinking for a while that maybe he’s not fit to be a priest. He’s supposed to love these people, but they disgust him. He is seriously thinking that, after this exorcism, he will give up the church and find something else useful to do, find another life. Not as many pages are spent on him as are on the girl and her family.

But this is the struggle that is the core of the story. Blatty just shows it, he doesn’t point to it, or call our attention to it, or emphasize it. We see Father Karras’s thoughts, without any outside comment. They are just there, one misery along with all the others.

It isn’t until the last part of the story, when Father Karras is about to give up, that he has his epiphany. It happens, and the story goes on and comes to it’s conclusion. It is that epiphany which has been with me all my life.

How can he serve the people in his parish when he feels no love for them, only disgust? Because, the love of this kind isn’t what you feel, it’s what you do. Many of you probably know that.