In various religious traditions, adherents have sought heightened states through experiences termed ecstasies. In the ancient Greek Dionysian mysteries, for instance, initiates employed intoxicants and intense dancing to achieve an ecstatic state. Today’s charismatic Christians practice “being slain in the spirit” whereby they may speak in tongues or engage in other unusual behaviors.

In Roman Catholic traditions, those called “mystics” have been distinguished from ordinary saints by their ecstasies, or personal experiences with God. Ecstasy occurs in what is popularly thought to be a “trance,” an altered state of consciousness in which one seeks to heighten perception, frequently experiencing several associated effects.

It is this tradition that I have determined to look into here, because the Catholic Church actually conducts investigations into the reputed mystic experiences of candidates for sainthood. Those investigations have become more critical in modern times, and some phenomena are now regarded with increasing skepticism. Even so, it is important to keep in mind that not every saint is a former mystic, just as not every mystic is likely to become a saint.

It is even more important to recognize that while mystic phenomena are regarded by the faithful as “gifts” of God, unless they are suspected of being diabolical, science on the other hand treats them as mere claims of the paranormal. As such, they may ultimately prove to be due to imagination, misperception, or even outright deception, many mystics having been exposed as perpetrators of pious fraud. In this overview, we will look at, in turn, the reputed inward effects and the outward signs of such alleged phenomena.

Inward Effects

The “inward effects” of mystics’ gifts include ecstasies themselves as well as such related phenomena as visions, revelations, psychic ability, and healing power.

Ecstasy

St. Teresa of Avila (1515–1582) frequently experienced ecstasies, also known as raptures. The nuns under her direction would see her suddenly drop to the floor and then spend hours frozen in position, supposedly incapable of speech. She attracted much attention with these acts, insisting that while enraptured she spoke with angels or conversed directly with God (a dangerous claim, given the Inquisition).

Sometimes during a rapture, the devil caused her to thrash around uncontrollably—or so the credulous believed. On occasion the opposite happened: when her wishes were thwarted, she might become cataleptic—once remaining in that apparent state for four days. On a very few occasions during a rapture, she was said to have levitated (a phenomenon to be examined later).

The trouble generally with assessing exhibitions of ecstasy is distinguishing a “real” one, which might be due to nothing more than self-suggestion, from one that could be a deliberate performance. Thus, a questionable ecstatic would be a contradiction in terms. Among such would be Angela of Foligno (c. 1248–1349, called “The Swooning Saint”); Saint Lydwina (1380–1433, who claimed ecstasies allowed her to make remote visits); and Saint Catalina Tomàs (1531–1574, who reportedly remained in ecstasies for as long as three weeks!).

Visions

Mystics are often visionaries: that is, those who have a religious experiences in which they purportedly “see,” paranormally, some past or future event or some holy person, or the like. Famous ones include St. Joan of Arc (1412–1431, the French heroine); Hildegard of Bingen¹ (1098–1179), who allegedly received revelations from the Holy Spirit); St. Bernadette of Lourdes (1844–1879, to whom at age fourteen the Virgin Mary allegedly made a series of appearances heralding “miracle” spring waters there); and of course many, many others, including meditative visionary Julian (Juliana) of Norwich (c. 1342–c. 1423).

Take, for instance, German nun Anne Catherine Emmerich (1774–1824). She proffered many claimed powers. As a child she had an invisible “guardian angel” (what we might call an imaginary friend) and supposedly experienced apparitional encounters with Jesus, Mary, and various saints. In time she also exhibited the stigmata.

Emmerich became much more widely known following Mel Gibson’s controversial movie The Passion of the Christ, released in 2004. A principal source was Emmerich’s “visions” as given in her book, The Dolorous Passion of Our Lord Jesus Christ, supposedly transcribed by Clement Brentano in 1833. However, while Brentano filled copious notebooks with Emmerich’s ramblings, many of them were written from memory after sessions with her and were also later edited, enhanced, and even supplemented with fabricated material—according to Vatican experts. Some material is patently ridiculous, such as her identifying a region where unicorns—having survived Noah’s Flood—could be found! Although Emmerich was eventually beatified, her alleged visions were eliminated from that process.

Visionaries such as Emmerich tend to exhibit traits indicative of a “fantasy-prone” personality. Called “fantasizers,” such individuals fall within the normal range and represent an estimated 4 percent of the population. In a pioneering study in 1983, researchers Sheryl C. Wilson and T. X. Barber suggested that “individuals manifesting the fantasy-prone syndrome may have been overrepresented among famous mediums, psychics, and religious visionaries of the past.” A careful study of mystics’ visions, especially when they are preserved in their own authored texts, can yield clues showing them to be works of the imagination. For example, the meditations of Julian of Norwich clearly contain dogmas and iconography of her own time.

Revelations

The term revelation is often used interchangeably with vision, but it strictly applies not just to something being shown but rather to some particular knowledge being revealed. Consider Saint Bridget of Sweden (1303–1373, whose Revelations were published posthumously). She had long wished to learn how many blows struck Jesus during his Passion (his suffering and death). One day, reported Bridget, Jesus himself appeared before her and said “I received 5480 blows upon my Body …”—certainly an incredible (that is, not credible) number!

To her were revealed other unlikelihoods, for example that the Virgin was blonde-haired(!). Still another revelation, showing the Virgin kneeling in prayer to her child, soon became common in art; however, the depiction actually predated Bridget’s, revealing hers to have been borrowed, apparently from the Franciscan Order to which she belonged.

If Bridget’s revelation powers appear—in retrospect—questionable, Pope John Paul II had recognized Bridget’s “holiness without ever pronouncing on her individual revelations,” yet still “accepted the overall authenticity of her interior experience.” In other words, if Bridget’s revelations weren’t really real, she was nevertheless sincere.

Among the most notorious of alleged revelations was that attributed to Saint Helena, (c. 250–c. 330). The mother of Constantine the Great, she is credited with divine inspiration—either by heavenly signs, dreams, or the guidance of a Jew named Judas—that purportedly led to the finding of the True Cross of Jesus. This event, an epitome of legend-making nearly three centuries after the crucifixion, was the culmination of Helena’s trip to Jerusalem in 326 CE. Indeed, the pious fiction claims she discovered the Holy Sepulchre itself, and it proved a veritable treasure trove of relics: not only the True Cross, but also the Titulus (title board of the cross), holy nails, Crown of Thorns, crosses of the “two thieves” crucified with Jesus (Matthew 27:38), etc.—apparently a combined tomb and storeroom! In time, this alleged revelation by Saint Helena provided a convenient attribution site for one fake relic of Jesus after another. (John Calvin would later say there were enough pieces of the True Cross [several of which I have encountered over the years] to form “a whole ship’s cargo.” (See my 2007 book Relics of the Christ.)

Psychic Ability

Many mystics have gained a reputation for purported psychic ability (not always precisely defined). I say “purported” because claims of such powers are without scientific support.

The term mystical clairvoyance, for instance, is sometimes used, defined by Kenneth L. Woodward as “the ability to read the hearts and secret sins of another.” Clairvoyance—after the French clair (“clear”) and voyance (“vision”)—refers to “seeing remotely” or gaining information through extrasensory (other than through the senses) perception.

Of course, a clever mystic might give the impression of having psychic powers by such subterfuges as secretly acquiring gossip about someone; by artfully fishing for information while shrewdly observing the person’s reactions (a technique called “cold reading”); by making occasional lucky guesses; or by employing broad statements that subjects will accept as applying to themselves. Still another technique is known as retrofitting (or after-the-fact matching). It involves issuing deliberately vague statements that may be cleverly matched to future facts after those have become known.

By just such means, boosted by rumors and folktales, mystics may obtain a reputation for psychic knowledge—just like so many storefront psychics of today. For instance, the Italian mystic Blessed Stephanie Quinzani (1457–1530) became known for her “ability to read souls” and St. Dona of Pisa (c. 1156–1207) could similarly “read hearts and minds,” while the Blessed Sybillina Biscossi (1287–1367) of Pavia was reportedly endowed with what Sarah Gallick calls “great gifts of discernment” (or notable judgment).

Healing Power

In earlier centuries, a person might be canonized for any of a number of “gifts.” But today, nearly all of the two requisite miracles for proclaiming a saint are medical cures. (This is in part because some phenomena—such as stigmata—have always been suspect).

Jesus gave his disciples the power of healing (Mark 16:15–18), and the practice has been carried on ever since. Many saints and mystics are credited with that ability, and cures are supposedly also effected by the angelic spirits of holy persons. Even their earthbound relics are credited with the power to heal; so allegedly is a cloth, such as handkerchief or apron, that merely touched a saint’s or mystic’s dead body.

Blessed Hildegard of Bingen, the twelfth-century visionary mentioned earlier, was said to have the gift of healing, although that may have been due largely to her talent for concocting herbal remedies. St. Nino of Georgia (d. c. 320) reportedly cured infants with nothing more than the power of prayer. The Welsh monk St. Beuno (d. c. 640) has a remarkable legend (albeit deemed “untrustworthy”) that he restored the head of St. Winifred (d. c. 650) after her beheading! Also, a spring legendarily sprang up where Winifred’s head had fallen and so effected many cures—though presumably none so remarkable as her own restoration to life. At the shrine of St. Walburga in Germany (710–779), the saint’s bones allegedly exude a healing oil that still flows from them, and tiny flasks of the oil are distributed to the hopeful.

As mentioned earlier, St. Bernadette of Lourdes, at age fourteen, reported her visions of the Virgin Mary showing her a healing spring. In 1884, the Lourdes Medical Bureau was founded at the French site and has since recognized seventy “miracle” cures there. However, miracle is not a scientific term or concept, and the requirement that healings be “medically inexplicable” invokes a logical fallacy called arguing from ignorance. (One cannot draw a conclusion from a lack of knowledge.) Besides, many of the cases have alternate explanations; for example, certain illnesses, such as multiple sclerosis, are known to show spontaneous remission. Other “cures” may be attributable to misdiagnosis, psychosomatic conditions, prior medical treatment, the body’s own healing power, and other effects. Ironically, Bernadette herself failed to be aided by the spring’s touted power and, bedridden, died young.

Outward Signs

This second category of mystics’ gifts comprises those whose effects, at least, are reportedly seen physically. They include mysterious illnesses, bilocation, inedia, stigmata, levitation, and other reputed physical phenomena.

Mysterious Illnesses

While the evidence for mystical graces is typically positive—a supposed awareness of a supernatural presence in the soul—the question sometimes arises: What is the source of that sensation of presence? Quite curiously, many mystics experience strange or inexplicable illnesses that seem to underscore that question. Here we look at some examples that make observers wonder whether those ailments are from God, who may be testing the mystic, asking whether that person is fit for their assigned role, or whether their suffering may be seen by others as somehow ennobling. On the other hand, one may question whether a given mystic’s apparent extraordinary powers may instead be of diabolical origin—or even, to take a more rational view, merely an indication of that person’s emotional disturbance or even role-playing.

As we have already seen, Teresa of Avila, the sixteenth-century mystic, suffered various afflictions. She was “besieged” by visions and raptures—that were caused by the devil, she said—until liberal use of holy water would invariably drive the malevolent forces away. Off and on, she was plagued by mysterious illnesses, “having too many symptoms for any single disease,” according to a biographer, and thereby suggesting the effects were either psychosomatic or, as I suspect, given the extensiveness of her whole repertoire, shrewdly pretended performances.

Other mystics who affected mysterious illnesses included St. Julie Billiart of France (1751–1816) who—having watched robbers shoot her father—suffered a traumatic paralysis (despite his recovery). That lasted for two decades until, having helped form a religious congregation, she experienced an alleged miraculous cure of her infirmity. Another such mystic was St. Rafqa of Lebanon (1832–1914) who asked God to give her suffering to bear and was rewarded with “a series of illnesses that left her blind and completely disabled.” Reportedly, despite the examination by many doctors, no scientific explanation could be found, which again suggests that the effects were psychosomatic or pretended. Still another supposedly plagued mystic was Padre Pío (1887–1968), who was canonized in 2002. He was “frequently ill and emotionally disturbed” and claimed he was often physically attacked by evil spirits.

Bilocation

One of the most curious of alleged mystical phenomena is what is termed bilocation—that is, the purported ability to be in two places at the same time. Paranormalists suggest (pseudoscientifically) that the phenomenon is “the projection of a double,” which may be perceived by observers either as physically solid or as appearing ghostly.

Actually an anciently claimed phenomenon, bilocation has allegedly been practiced by mystics, magical adepts, and other holy persons. Among the saints famous for bilocation were St. Anthony of Padua (1195–1231), St. Ambrose of Milan (c. 340–1231), and St. Severus of Ravenna (c. 308–c. 348). Today, probably the best known is St. Pío of Pietrelcina—i.e., Padre Pío (mentioned above in the section on Mysterious Illnesses). One friar said of Pio’s reputed bilocations that the phenomenon “was a gift for the people so that by this manifestation others might recognize the presence of the divine and hopefully make a change in their lives.”

However, the claims of Padre Pío’s bilocations and other mystical abilities are unproven, consisting of anecdotal evidence—a major source being the aptly named Tales of Padre Pío (1978). Indeed, Pío’s alleged psychic abilities appear no better substantiated than those of a typical fortune teller or medium. As to the bilocations, many are analogous to Elvis Presley sightings, while others are—at best—consistent with hallucinations, such as one reported during a migraine attack or others during a percipient’s “waking dream” (that occurs between wakefulness and sleep) or in some other altered state.

Inedia

Certainly one of the most outrageous claims of mystical phenomena is inedia, the alleged capacity to forgo food and/or water. It is commonly claimed by India’s religious godmen and fakirs, and it also has a tradition among Catholic mystics.

Perhaps most notorious was St. Catherine of Siena (1347–1380) who practiced flagellation and other excesses, including imagining torture by demons. In his book Holy Anorexia, Professor Rudolph M. Bell attributes Catherine’s inedia to acute anorexia. Being vainglorious, she died. In fact, she had restricted herself to a single consecrated Host she took as part of the daily Eucharist.

Among other inedia claimants was Blessed Laura Evangelista (1875–1967), who herself pretended to live on nothing other than the daily Eucharist (supposedly as penance on behalf of the soul of her agnostic father). Yet another was the French mystic Blessed Alpais of Cudot (c. 1156–1211), who, it is said, “appeared” to subsist only on the Eucharist; there were skeptics, some of whom at least suspected that she was demonically possessed. The problem with inedia is that even when cheating is suspected, it is most difficult to catch a charlatan who is clever and determined and who may have a secret confederate. Saint Lydwing of Schiedam (1380–1433) was observed by occupying soldiers for nine days, but they could only conclude she seemingly lived solely on air!

A more expert surveillance was conducted on mystic Therese Neumann (1898–1962) who made many other pretenses, including exhibiting stigmata, weeping bloody tears, undergoing miraculous cures, and more. She too claimed to avoid all food and drink except daily Communion. However, suspicious church authorities systematically tested her urine, which gave expected results for the time she was monitored but then returned to normal—consistent with her resuming intake of food and drink. Neumann refused to undergo further surveillance.

Stigmata

Of all purported mystical powers, perhaps none is more popularly equated with saintliness than stigmata: the wounds of Jesus’s crucifixion allegedly duplicated spontaneously upon a mystic’s body. However, although one historical survey indicated as many as a fifth of all stigmatics eventually become beatified or canonized, the Church has seemingly become increasingly skeptical of the alleged phenomenon (as we shall see presently from the case of Padre Pío).

From the death of Jesus (about 29 or 30 CE), nearly twelve centuries would pass before stigmata would begin to appear.² The first “true” stigmatic was St. Francis of Assisi (1182–1226)—his supposed supernatural wounding occurring just two years after a man who claimed to be the Son of God was arrested for imposture. Following St. Francis, there was a proliferation of the phenomenon, over twenty instances occurring within the next hundred years. This suggests a copycat phenomenon.

Drawing further suspicion, the phenomenon has been an evolving one. Francis’s stigmata (except for the wound in the side) were not bleeding wounds but the appearance of round, black nail heads, extending from the flesh. Since then, the bleeding type have been typical, while at the same time exceedingly varied—not at all like a consistent, genuine pattern. They have ranged from small slits to simple crosses, multiple slash marks, indentations, or whatever the imagination seemingly produced. In the case of Therese Neumann (the fake inedic mentioned previously), they shifted over time from round to rectangular—presumably as she learned the true shape of Roman nails. Then there was St. Catherine of Siena (1347–1380) who had “invisible” stigmata.

Although some writers suggest stigmata may be due to the effects of suggestion, that possibility has not been supported by experiments. Again and again, when the true cause of stigmata has been known or strongly indicated by the evidence, it has been the result of fakery. For example, Magdalena de la Cruz (1487–1560), fearful of dying a sinner, confessed that her stigmata, inedia, and other phenomena were deliberate deceptions. Another, Maria de la Visitacion (1556–1598) known as the “holy nun of Lisbon,” was accused by a sister nun who saw her painting a fake wound onto her hand; this was subsequently scrubbed off, revealing unblemished flesh beneath, and she confessed. I have had the very rare opportunity of examining two suspicious stigmatics: one had a long cross scratched on her left arm (she being right-handed); the other had wounds only on the backs of the hands and tops of the feet—that is, not penetrating through the appendages and thus consistent with fakery.

A special case was that of Padre Pío (canonized as St. Pío of Pietrelcína—discussed earlier under Mysterious Illnesses and Bilocation). A pathologist who examined his stigmata found no sign of any wound under the crusts of blood. Another concluded that the side “wound” had not penetrated the skin at all. Moreover, it was on the left side (whereas St. Francis’s was on the right) and was reportedly in the shape of a cross rather than like what an actual lance would make. He also lacked wounds on the forehead (as from a crown of thorns). For years, he wore—cleverly I believe—fingerless gloves; the credulous attributed the choice to modesty, but of course it also eliminated the necessity of repeatedly wounding himself! At his death, his skin was unblemished, and subsequently neither of the two miracles Church authorities chose for his canonization involved stigmata—the phenomenon for which he was best known.

Levitation

Notwithstanding the law of gravity, some mystics have appeared to levitate or even fly. The phenomenon, compared with stigmata, is as rare as it would be difficult to fake. Yet mystics have found ways to do just that.

Among the purported levitators was the much talented St. Teresa of Avila, whose ecstasies, visions, and raptures we have already noted. One incident occurred just after she had received Communion, whereupon “she grabbed at the bars of the grille to keep from levitating but went up anyway—an embarrassing interruption of her normal routine,” according to biographer Cathleen Medwick. Now suppose she only pretended that she was in the clutches of a power and, leaping up, grabbed the bars and, holding on tightly, extended her legs while yelling for help from those near her. If done with proper theatrics, the result could have been quite convincing.

Another of Teresa’s reported levitations occurred when she was praying in chapel and, according to Medwick, “rose about a foot and a half off the ground.” Suppose the mystic threw herself down and onto her back in one of her fits of ecstasy. Then she could have simply arched her body dramatically while calling for others to hold her down. This stunt has been used in modern times. As televised on a 1991 20/20 broadcast, a sixteen-year-old “possessed” girl stole glances at the camera before affecting demonic behavior. The levitation? As she strained upward, a priest claimed that had she not been held down, she would have been levitating!

An Italian friar who became the master of alleged mystical “levitations” was Joseph of Cupertino (1603–1663), who was given to fits of ecstasy, divining thoughts, effecting cures, and (at least in a tale he told) exhibiting the power of bilocation. As something of a “performance artist,” he held lengthy masses during which he rendered himself immobile, then slowly seemed “to rise and float.” I believe he mimed this by stretching himself upward until he artfully stood on tiptoe, then danced lightly in place so as to create the illusion of a light body “hovering” just above the ground. On occasion, he would then soar—actually (from a running start) bound through the air—to a suitably high point, say the feet of an elevated statue, which he then adored while “floating midair.” Actually, he simply “embraced”—that is, held onto—the statue! Perhaps, using muscular ability, he extended his body horizontally to add to the effect that he was apparently floating.

Accounts indicate Joseph’s most dramatic aerial traverses were launched by a running leap (much like basketball marvel Michael Jordan, who, dubbed “Air Jordan,” seemingly levitated toward the basket). In one especially high flight, it is apparent that Joseph bounded in increments onto the altar where he “rested between the candles”—that is, on the support that held them. And there, for several minutes, he was “embracing”—in other words, holding onto—the tabernacle (which contained the Eucharist). He was never simply floating in air, as sources may seem to imply. His trajectories were clearly simple arcs—never circuitous or spiraling flights like a bird’s. Still, he awed his superstitious seventeenth-century audiences and was canonized in 1767. By then, exaggerated memories of him no doubt aided his cause.

Other Phenomena

A complete list of mystics’ special “gifts” can hardly be made, but a few others are worth brief mention. These include speaking in tongues, emitting the odor of sanctity, turning water to wine, and still many others, especially being bodily incorrupt in death. Examples follow.

Speaking in Tongues

Known as glossolalia, the phenomenon is one of incoherent utterances that result from an altered state of consciousness (as in religious ecstasy) and is a practice common to many religions. Some glossologists merely jabber in a manner that resembles a known foreign language. Some observers may—while half-listening to such a speaker—superimpose their own inner “voices” onto the pseudo-language so as to seemingly make intelligible that which is not. In short, the “gift” of speaking and praying in tongues is merely “psychobabble” that—depending on the motives of the practitioner—falls somewhere between conscious deception and pious self-delusion.

Emitting the Odor of Sanctity

For many centuries, the faithful believed that saints emitted a sweet fragrance that became known as the “odor of sanctity.” This was reported in connection with several saints, including France’s Blessed Agnes de Jesus Galand (1602–1634) and Teresa of Avila, perceived at her grave under an archway of the convent chapel. It was reportedly experienced in the very room where Italy’s St. Catherine dei Ricci (1522–1590) had died. That scent was likened to violets, and one wonders if floral arrangements had been placed there at the death of the future saint. In any event, there are numerous potential mundane sources for a fragrance, as well as the obvious possibility of suggestion. In the case of Padre Pío, those who accused him of various frauds claimed his “odor of sanctity” resulted from his own self-administered eau-de-cologne.

Turning Water to Wine

Mystics were often credited with replicating the miracles of Jesus, such as the changing of water to wine at a marriage in Cana of Galilee (John 2:1–11). In variations of that feat, we have at hand two examples, and I suspect there are likely more. One is from a legend about St. Bridgid of Ireland (c. 450–c. 525) in which she allegedly transformed water into ale, thus providing no fewer than seventeen churches with sufficient libations to celebrate Easter for ten days. The other example is attributed to the Italian saint Ubaldesca Taccini (1136–1206). According to a legend, while she was drawing water at a well, two men asked her to do likewise for them and bless the water, whereupon it turned into wine. The operative word in these narratives is legend, which is why there is the folklore genre of “saints’ legends.”

Incorruptibility

For centuries, when exhumed corpses were found relatively well preserved, they were termed “incorruptible” in Catholic tradition. As such, especially if the bodies were those of mystical persons, they would be potentially regarded as saints. In some instances, such as in that of St. Catherine Labouré (1806–1876), the corpse had been beset by excessive moisture; that may cause a whitish substance called adipocere (or “grave wax”) to develop in the outer layer. In other cases, supposedly incorruptible bodies are simply mummified (as from being kept in a closed, dry tomb). In still other instances, the preservation may have been effected by having unknowingly been embalmed: the viscera removed and the body treated inside and out with resin (thereby possibly also creating the “odor of sanctity”).

Getting the true facts in such cases is not always easy due to what we may call miracle mongering. For instance, photos are often shown of a beautifully “incorrupt” corpse of St. Bernadette of Lourdes. However, we do not really know whether or not the body had been injected with embalming fluid. In any event, when first exhumed after thirty years, it was found “emaciated,” and ten years later it had to be covered with a wax mask. True, science has shown the superstitious nonsense of the incorruptibility issue, and the Church has largely taken note. But—as with other claims of mystic phenomena—much still remains that is in need of enlightenment.

 

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Bibliography

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• ———. Psychic Sleuths. Amherst, NY: Prometheus, 1994.
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• ———. The Science of Miracles. Amherst, NY: Prometheus, 2013.
• ———. “The Visions of Julian of Norwich.” Free Inquiry 37:4 (June/July 2017), 43–45.
• ———. “Secrets of ‘The Flying Friar’: Did St. Joseph of Copertino Really Levitate?” Skeptical Inquirer 42:4 (July/August 2018), 20–22.
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• Wilson, Sheryl C., and T. X. Barber. “The Fantasy-Prone Personality: Implications for Understanding Imagery, Hypnosis, and Parapsychological Phenomena.” In Imagery: Current Theory, Research and Application, ed. by Anees A. Sheikh: New York: Wiley, 1983: 340–390.
• Woodward, Kenneth L. Making Saints. New York: Simon & Schuster, 1990.

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Notes