Colin Wilson - Ritual in the Dark

To begin with, the pathological killer is not often a boaster. You see, his crimes are often due to an overpowering impulse, and when the impulse disappears he may become a completely different person. In Germany we have a name for this type of crime. We call it Lustmord — joy murder. Motiveless joy murder. And the joy-murderer is not often proud of the impulse that turns him into a wild animal periodically. You see?

The priest said softly:

But if I remember rightly, your friend Kurten wrote to the police.

That is true. But not to boast — only to draw attention to a body. And then perhaps you remember the case of the Chicago murderer — I forget his name — who wrote above one of his victims: Stop me before I kill again.

Heirens, Sorme murmured.

Ah, you know the case! Well, you see, that is the schizophrenic murderer.

He turned to the priest, and an almost mischievous smile passed across his face.

He said:

Now you see, Larry, why I had to become a psychiatrist rather than a priest. How could I prescribe penances for sins when I am not sure that the man who performs the penance is the same man who commits the sins? That is a problem you can't answer me.

The priest said, smiling.

We also recognise your split personality in the Church you know, Franz. But we talk of sin and remorse instead. It all comes to the same thing…

Stein chuckled throatily. It was obvious that he enjoyed luring the priest into discussions. He said:

No, no, Larry. It is not the same thing at all. When you prescribe a penance, you assume the man who committed the sin is the same as the one who will do penance. But what if they are two different people, eh? What about that?

The priest said quietly:

I wouldn't prescribe a penance for such a man.

No? Stein said, raising his bushy eyebrows. And what would you do?

Try to help him, just as you would.

And how can you help him, if your only way of describing his condition is in concepts like sin?

The priest said:

I need only two concepts to understand his condition — spirit and matter.

Stein said, smiling: Not even God and the devil?

Not even God and the devil.

Then tell me, sir, how you would explain a man like Kurten in these terms?

I'd have to think about it…

Ah! You said that last time we argued!

He turned to Sorme and winked, saying:

He is a very difficult fellow to argue with. All these Dominicians are the same…

When you get them in a corner, they demand time to think!

The priest's expression remained mild and thoughtful. He said slowly:

Very well, if you want me to try to explain… I would express it this way. Man knows himself as body, and what he knows of spirit comes through grace. The poet would call it inspiration. But the spirit bloweth where it listeth. Man has no control over his inspiration. If a piece of music or a poem has moved him once, he can never be certain that it will happen again. But man hates to think that he has no control over the spirit. It would discourage him too much. He likes to believe that he can summon the spirit by some ordinary act. Instead of striving to prepare himself for it through discipline and prayer, he tries to summon it arbitrarily through some physical act — drinking Dusseldorf beer, for instance…

Stein said, chuckling:

Which is the way all good Dusseldorfers summon the spirit, since our Dunkelbier is the best in Germany.

The priest laughed with him, and for a moment Sorme had a curious impression that he was listening to an argument between two undergraduates instead of two men in their late sixties. He shrank deeper into his armchair, wanting them to forget his presence.

The priest stopped laughing first, and Sorme had a glimpse of the tiredness that always lay behind his eyes. Stein also became grave again. He said:

Very well. But what has this to do with the murderer?

It has to do with sex. For sex is the favourite human device for summoning the spirit. And since it is also God's gift of procreation, it nearly always works… unlike music and poetry.

Or beer, Stein said.

Quite. But even sex is not infallible. And man hates to think that he has no power over the spirit. The more his physical methods fail him, the more voraciously he pursues them. His attempts to summon the spirit become more and more frenzied. If he is a drinker, he drinks more, until he has more alcohol than blood in his veins. If he is a sensualist, he invents sexual perversions.

Ah, Stein said.

There are many other ways, of course — the lust for money and power, for instance. All depend upon man's refusal to face the fact that the spirit bloweth where it listeth, that no physical act can be guaranteed to summon it…

Sorme had forgotten his resolution to keep silent. He said:

But is there no certain way of summoning it, father?

The priest went on looking at Stein as he answered:

None. The best we can do is to train ourselves in patience. When the priest invokes the descent of the spirit in the Mass, he does not expect to see it or feel it; he accepts by faith that the wine has become the blood of our Lord, the bread His flesh. The priest knows that all he can do is wait. The business of religion is to teach men patience.

As soon as man loses patience, he loses all he has…

So! Stein said. What am I to tell my patient who feels an urge to rape a child? To have patience?

The priest said, with unexpected sharpness:

What else? Why does he want to rape the child? Can you explain it?

Stein shrugged:

It usually springs from a feeling of insecurity. Or boredom. Many of my patients have complained that they feel a perpetual sense of injustice — that they have a right to lead more interesting lives. A sexually frustrated man will try to express his sense of injustice in sexual murder.

The priest had begun to look tired; his voice had become low and monotonous:

Religion teaches that all men are equal in the sight of God, that the beggar is no better off than the king, that all men die and are subject to the same miseries. If a man felt that, how could he feel a desire to rape a child?

Stein said: True. But a man would need to be a philosopher to feel that, and most psychopaths are not philosophers…

The priest said quietly: He would need to be a philosopher… or a Christian.

Stein stood up. He said: Perhaps you are right, my friend. But I think we should leave you. I think we are beginning to tire you a little.

Sorme could not help smiling at the injustice of the 'we'.

The priest said: It is kind of you to come and see me.

Stein said, smiling: I like seeing you.

He turned to Sorme, and said: We have known one another for nearly fifty years.

Sorme said politely: Really?

So! Stein said. We leave you to your meditations.

The priest said: You must come in again, Gerard.

Thank you, father. I'd like to.

Have you seen Austin since you came here last?

Yes. Quite a lot. I'd like to talk about him some time, father.. By the way, father…

He glanced uncomfortably at Stein before formulating the question, then went on:

Does… Mrs Nunne know about… Austin?

The priest took his meaning immediately. He said quickly:

No. Why?

I wondered. His aunt — a Jehovah's Witness — found out through some busybody friend of hers. But I don't think she'd mention it to his parents.

Stein had put on his overcoat, and was standing by the door. The powerful face was beaded with perspiration; it was obvious he found the room oppressive. Sorme said: Well, goodbye, father…

Goodbye, Gerard. Goodbye, Franz. I hope you'll come again next time you pass by. Both of you.

Auf Wiedersehen, Larry. I shall certainly come.