I think the reason this happens is that it seems that in the ancient world, there was no clear distinction between - for want of a better word - what today we would divide into spiritual problems and health problems. Many people read these gospel accounts and do not believe that there were actual demons exorcised, but that this (and other accounts of exorcisms) were cases of mental illness being healed. So - in their minds - when they then make a link with mental health problems today, it's not because they believe the mentally ill are possessed, but because they believe that all those who used to be thought to be possessed were simply mentally ill.
Yes, that is a very fair summary.
We very often default from 'demon possesssed' to 'mentally ill', even though there is no evidence that this default is reasonable. The description of the man after the demons were cast out is of a calm, perfectly healthy individual. He does not have any pathology that we are able to identify and it is not reasonable to make guesses; all we can say for certain is that he had a raft of nasty demons, which the Lord cast out.
Adding on to that given story a layer of 'mentally ill' may have been normal enough at one time, but today it is indefensible. We know that mentally ill people are not morally deficient, or weak, or sub human. We know that they are us; the normal people around us, struggling to cope with normal life, and carrying a terrible burden. Stigmatised, far less likely to be employed, far more likely to be the victims of crime than the perpetrators of it, and yet portrayed everywhere as dangerous. We already carry far too much baggage in the form of other people's prejudices and assumptions; in Christian terms our cross is already far heavier than we can manage, and we struggle to stay upright.
Why would we want to make that burden heavier by linking our situation with a man possessed by demons?
Simply getting to church is a huge effort for me. I have to overcome social anxiety to leave my house, and enter a large room full of people milling around and talking loudly. Then the milling stops, which is better, but the organ starts, and that is even louder. Loud noises are triggering, people are triggering, and I become very anxious and hypervigilant. At the same time I can't walk around, or leave; I have to sit when others sit, stand when others stand, all the time trying to deal with rising panic.
Other people see me standing there, probably looking unhappy. They see that I don't sing or join in the responses. They don't see the fight going on inside between the flight response and my own thoughts, trying to stay calm, to say that this is a safe place; that I belong here.
If I manage to cope with all of that for an hour without crying and then make it to the altar rail, and then go home again, the result is complete exhaustion. Nobody knows that; nobody sees it.
So in church I am already in a heightened state of alert, even if my mum is not unwell, and then that prayer happens.
Which is why I heard it and nobody else did.
Now, different people will have different positions on that. I myself am not so sure that it is that simple. But there is some support for those ideas in the texts and that's why the connection is made.
But that does not absolve anyone of the responsibility to be incredibly careful in how they speak of these matters.
Yes, that is all that is needed. Thought, and care.
This should really have been a very quick discussion, followed by, 'I see what you mean; I will have a quiet word. Give me a couple of weeks or so; don't expect too much too soon.' 'That's fine; thanks for listening.' End of story.
Thank you, Paidiske. x
Goodness, F&B, maybe one might try gentler approaches first? I'd look into what the formal avenues are for complaint. I don't know what the C of E is like, do I remember that they don't have anyone like a Director of Professional Standards for a diocese?
Don't worry; I am not about to sue anyone.
'Ain't no poor man yet was better for law, or for lawyers.' Mr Bunce. Barchester Chronicles.
