However, since this man was scientist, Father Gary Thomas wasn’t surprised that he was a skeptic when it came to supernatural evil. That was fine, since one of the first things the priest learned in Rome while training to be an exorcist was to remain as skeptical as possible, as long as possible. Still, there were troubling facts in the man’s story — such as an episode when a counselor urged him to channel spirits.

Finally, the priest turned to “De Exorcismis et Supplicationibus Quibusdam (Of Exorcisms and Certain Supplications),” the Vatican document released in 1998 that contains a modernized exorcism rite. He has been fighting this man’s demons ever since.

“When we started, he told me, ‘Wait! Can’t you just take this thing right out of me?’ But that’s rarely how things work,” said Thomas, the official exorcist in the Diocese of San Jose in northern California. “It’s hard to get people to understand that no two exorcisms are the same. Reality isn’t like the movies.”

The subject of demonic possession remains controversial, as illustrated by the media storm that greeted the revised exorcism rite, which was required by a Vatican II mandate three decades earlier. Later, the Vatican announced that Pope John Paul II had personally performed three exorcisms during his pontificate.

While the new rite warned exorcists not to confuse diabolic possession with mental illness, it also affirmed ancient teachings about the reality of spiritual warfare, as illustrated by biblical accounts of Jesus performing exorcisms.

Truth is, stressed Thomas, the events of Holy Week — especially Good Friday, Holy Saturday and Easter — make no sense without real demons, real temptations and a real hell. But many Catholics disagree.

“There are plenty of bishops and priests who simply do not believe in Satan and demons and they have told me so,” he said. “That makes a difference. What most people do not realize is that bishops are like independent contractors and they can do whatever they damn well want to do. … That’s why we don’t have many exorcists in America.”

At the request of his own bishop, Thomas took a Vatican-approved approved course on demonic possession while living at the North American College in Rome in late 2005 and early 2006. As part of his studies, the second-career priest — who worked in a mortuary before seeking ordination — participated in more than 80 exorcisms with a senior Italian exorcist. These experiences form the heart of “The Rite: The Making of a Modern Exorcist,” a new book written by American journalist Matt Baglio.

For the past three years, the 55-year-old priest has quietly been using the techniques he learned in Rome. He said that his teachers, from the beginning, emphasized that an exorcist must strive to remain the “ultimate skeptic,” pursuing every pastoral option before turning to the exorcism rite as a last resort.

Modern exorcists are urged to work with psychiatrists, psychologists and physicians while evaluating those who are suffering. They also test to see if spiritual health can be restored through confession, healing rites and frequent participation in Mass. However, Thomas noted that these contacts with “holy things” occasionally trigger open displays of demonic powers.

It’s one thing to hear the voice of a demon on a recording or to read pages of blasphemies in transcripts. Face-to-face encounters are another matter.

The classic signs of possession have been established for ages. The possessed may exhibit superhuman strength, describe private events in the life of an exorcist or possess the ability to speak languages — such as Latin — they have never studied. They often suffer bizarre physical reactions to contact with holy water, crosses or icons.

Most people seeking exorcisms are simply physically sick, mentally ill or emotionally distressed. Some may try to fake “Hollywood-esque symptoms” in order to draw sympathy or attention.

“You may see case after case in which there are other explanations for what these people are suffering,” stressed Thomas. “But then, every now and then, you see things that let you know that you are dealing with the real thing. That’s when you know that sin is real, hell is real and Satan is real. That’s when you learn what the cross and the resurrection are all about.”

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These churches are visions of horizontal utilitarianism, their flat, plain walls broken by patches of metal and glass while rows of chairs face ultramodern altars. The faithful are more likely to see balloons drift to the rafters than clouds of incense veil images of Jesus, Mary and the saints.

Blessed Sacrament Catholic Church in Dallas is certainly not a “Mass factory,” as both critics and fans of this poor but lively parish in a battered barrio would agree. Its Italian windows have been lovingly restored, Romanesque walls repaired and statuary augmented by treasures abandoned by others. Roses are popular, often in waves of 700 or more.

“Beauty is terribly important, especially for people who have so little beauty in their lives,” said Father Paul Weinberger, 44, a beefy, energetic Anglo who arrived 10 years ago after a Spanish-language immersion program.

“People need something that lifts them up, that lets them glimpse something higher. So I want worship here to be extravagant. I want their church to be like a garden in this workaday world. … I can’t guarantee that they’ll listen to me, but if their eyes wander around this church they’re going to drawn to things that point them toward the mysteries of the faith.”

But it was a change in the 1999 midnight Mass that helped create a buzz in Dallas and on the Internet.

Weinberger estimates that 70 percent of his flock speaks Spanish and the rest English. The challenge was to find a way for worshippers to gather in the same pews, at the same time, sharing a common language.

The priest’s solution raised eyebrows. He embraced the modern Catholic rite — the Novus Ordo — but elected to use the Vatican’s Latin text, accompanied by preaching in Spanish and English. This rite then filled the 10:45 a.m. slot in the parish’s Sunday schedule, mixed in with two Spanish Masses and three in English.

Now Weinberger is being transferred — against his will — and supporters believe his love of Latin is one reason for the decision. They fear sweeping changes in this revived parish.

This is nonsense, said Deacon Bronson Havard, spokesperson for Bishop Charles V. Grahmann. It’s perfectly normal for a priest to be rotated to another parish after 10 years and the next pastor will make the decision about Latin at Blessed Sacrament.

However, Havard stressed that the Dallas diocese does require priests to seek permission to use Latin rites — ancient or modern. This is an issue of loyalty. Only a directive from Rome can override the local bishop’s authority on matters such as this, he said.

As for Weinberger’s conviction that a Latin Mass is a symbol of unity, Havard said: “Using the Latin may mean something to him, but it means nothing to the people in the pews — especially not to the Mexican immigrants who come into this area. We’ve had many complaints about that.”

This is news to Weinberger. Diocesan policy requires that pastors receive copies of all complaints, he noted, and none have reached his desk.

This whole Dallas dispute sounds sadly familiar, said Helen Hull Hitchcock, editor of Adoremus, a conservative journal about liturgy.

“We hear reports from Catholics across the nation who are accused of doing all kinds of horrible things, like kneeling at places in the Mass where people have been kneeling for centuries,” she said. “Then people tell them that if they clash with their bishop … they’re being disloyal to the pope.

“It’s all very annoying. Some people are mad that these priests and parishes still exist.”

This is precisely what worries Weinberger.

The days of the Advent season are passing as he prepares for a final midnight Christmas Mass at Blessed Sacrament. Poinsettias, stacked 15 to 20 feet high, will frame the altar. Pews will be packed for the Latin Mass.

“What father does not want to see his whole family gathered around the same table? That has always been my goal,” he said. “I want to see our whole parish there, from the first-generation immigrants who only speak Spanish to the native Dallasites who only speak English.

“I don’t want the language to divide us. I want it to unite us.”

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