The existence (or not) of ghosts

Yesterday's humourous article about ghosts has raised a number of very serious comments on the subject. That's what I love about you, my readers. You are so unpredictable and often you make me think.

So I thought, let's look at this subject seriously.

Do ghosts exist?

Christians, (and other religions), believe that we have a soul which does not die when we do, but lives on into eternity in a spiritual world - in a spiritual form. Some people believe that we will be resurrected body AND soul. But let us not complicate matters further right now. Let us settle with the fact that we have a soul that lives on after our bodily death.

In fact, according to C S Lewis, "You don't have a soul. You are a soul. You have a body".

So, we have a soul that lives on after our death and is either in Heaven or hell. Let us presume here that the decision is made immediately at our death. Hence the commonly held belief that our loved ones are in Heaven now, and not in some waiting-room somewhere reading out of date magazines that have been re-cycled from the dentist or doctor.

In fact, in the Bible, in Jesus' parable about the rich man and poor Lazarus at his gate, we learn that they are both in their final destination now; and not in a holding place somewhere.

So I thought I'd check what my (Catholic) church says on the matter. Surprisingly, they do not have an official policy or teaching on the existence, or otherwise of ghosts. But they do have a strict policy and ruling that thou shalt not communicate with the other side. So any séance, Luigi boards, or mediums trying to talk to the dead is strictly prohibited.

So the church believes, like all Christians do, that we have an ever living soul but you should not attempt to communicate with it.

Let us therefore look at evidence in the Bible. When Jesus was transfigured on the mountain, (Matthew 17:1-9), the disciples saw Moses and Elijah (who had not yet resurrected) with Jesus on the Mount of Transfiguration. So, presumably they had seen the spirits/souls of Moses and Elijah. Can we call them their ghosts?

In Matthew 14:26, when the disciples saw Jesus walking on the lake towards their boat they thought Jesus himself was a ghost; indicating that they at least had an idea of ghosts. Jesus did not correct them by saying ghosts don't exist.

Appearing after His resurrection to the disciples, rather than correct the very idea of ghosts, Jesus simply says He isn’t one, "Look, I have a body. Ghosts don't. Look at my hands and side". (Luke 24:37-39).

Having said all this, the Catholic Church believes in apparitions of many Saints over the years. So presumably, these apparitions are the souls/spirits/ghosts of these people who at one time were alive and they are now dead. 

What the Catholic Church does affirm, however, is that God has from time to time permitted departed souls to commune with people on earth for their betterment — but the exact nature of that communication, (whether by an intellectual sharing or a physical manifestation), has not been defined theologically.

Some time ago I communicated by e-mail with one of my readers here on this blog. 

The reader asked: If God wanted to, can He allow a certain dead person to go back to earth to serve God's purpose? In my view, the answer is YES - God can do anything. 

The next question then is: Does God do that? Does He send people (souls) back to earth to serve His purpose? We don't know the answer, but I see no reason why He does not do so.

God sent Angels many times on earth to announce to Mary about Christ's birth, to announce to the shepherds the same thing, and to warn Joseph to go to Egypt. 

So why can He not send souls from Heaven to visit earth to serve His purpose - perhaps to protect us? 

In fact, this raises the question: Are Angels souls of those who have died and gone to Heaven? Do souls in Heaven somehow become Angels?

Whilst we have no answer to those questions, and they are not raised in the Bible, apart from the fact that Angels exist, we can assume that if God wanted to He could make souls in Heaven Angels, and He could send them to various missions on earth.

I once discussed this matter with a priest I know well. He said that every day he talks to his dead parents. He says, "Mum and dad, I love you. Please pray to God to look after me".

On a different, but related, matter. Catholics do NOT pray TO the dead or TO the Saints. They ask their dead relatives and the Saints to pray to God FOR them. To intercede on their behalf. To put in a good word for them. A bit like you giving me a good reference when I apply for a job, or writing a good review about my books.

This thing about praying to the dead and the Saints is often confused by many Catholics. But then, in my experience, a lot of Catholics are a confused lot.

So in summary, there you have it. Souls exist. They appear to (some) of us. They communicate with us when God allows them. We should not communicate with them.

Are they ghosts? Your guess is as good as mine.

A Ghostly Experience

Do you believe in ghosts? Have you ever met or seen one? Did it speak to you? What did you do?

My very first experience of a ghost was many years ago when I was a teenager. I was walking home late one dark evening and there on the ground, floating away from me as if frightened, was a baby ghost. On second thoughts, it could have been a white paper tissue. Now that's a story not to be sneezed at!

My second encounter with a ghost was in an old castle in Scotland. He was wearing the full traditional Scottish costume. It was on a dark and stormy night when suddenly a gust of wind blew his kilt right up in the air.

At first I was afraid, I was petrified. He must have been just as frightened as me because he broke wind. I think he was putrefied.

I discovered later he was known as the Farting Ghost. His name was I Ken McWind.

Another more recent encounter with a ghost was at the home of an old lady I used to visit every now and then. In this case there were real manifestations like movements from one place to another. I used to visit her and find that she was sitting at a different place from where I'd left her the previous week. Never in the same place. Sometimes on the armchair, or on the sofa or in one case she was sitting on top of the fridge.

There were also sounds involved in that ghostly house of hers. I remember once we were in the kitchen and she was making me a cup of nettles tea.

Why do people drink this stuff? It tastes like the product of a skunk on diuretic!

Anyway, we were in the kitchen and we heard voices in the living room. Like someone talking. I asked her whether she had kept the radio on. She said No. I asked her to stay in the kitchen, I put her on top of the fridge, and I went to the living room. The radio was not on, but the TV was. Strange or what? I switched the TV off and the voices stopped.

Do ghosts speak in different languages depending where they are from? For example in France do ghosts speak in French? Or would they know you would not understand and they would speak to you in English but with a French accent?

Are ghosts always indoors in houses, castles and the like? Or can they be outdoors? If outdoors would the ghost be Al Fresco?

Do ghosts predict your future and tell you what is to happen to you? Like the three ghosts from the past, present and future in that ghostly story whose name I can't remember. It was something to do with Christmas as I recall. What the Dickens was it called?

And if they tell the future, are they truthful or do they lie? Can you see right through them? I wonder.

Are ghosts more frightened of you than you are of them? I mean; it can be quite an experience for a ghost to be alone in a house and suddenly humans come in and turn the lights on and behave as humans normally do. The ghost must hanker to the good old days when he too was human. Imagine a ghostly lifetime without chocolate? Maybe that's why they're always miserable.

Do ghosts age? Or do they stay the same age as the person who died? Could it be possible that the paper tissue I saw was indeed a baby ghost? Are a collection of ghosts a roll of toilet paper? You don't see many of them these days.

Are ghosts always humans, or could animals become ghosts? Can you imagine a whale of a ghost? That would be very big to even enter your house. Our home is so small we would have sardine ghosts.

How about inanimate objects? Can they be ghosts too? Can you imagine a chair being a ghost? As you come to sit on it it moves away and you fall to the ground as all the other chairs and the table laugh.

How about the bed being a ghost? What stories it could tell!

I think my mind is all over the place right now thinking about ghosts.

How about you telling us your experiences or beliefs about ghosts. Is it true they can walk through walls? Or through a key hole?

What happens if you put a key in the keyhole just as a ghost is passing through? Do you get a ghost with an eye patch on one eye?

And finally ... do ghosts go to the toilet? If not, why are there sometimes droplets on the floor?

A Ghostly Experience

Not many people believe in ghosts. I didn't either. Until one day I saw one. Yes, I saw a ghost and he spoke to me. I'll never forget the experience.

It happened years ago on a dark and wintry night in the depth of a mountainous region of Scotland.

I was driving late at night after visiting some business customers up North and somehow I lost my way. It was the days before satellite navigation systems and cell-phones to help you communicate and get from one place to another.

It was raining heavily with thunder and lightning brightening the skies for brief intervals and piercing the darkness of the road ahead. As usually happens in ghost stories and movies, my car eventually stopped having run out of gas.

But this was for real.

Not a movie script which I could put down and return to my reality sitting next to a warm fire with a hot chocolate drink in my hands. This was for real. My car stopped in the middle of nowhere on a cold rainy night with thunder and lightning for companionship. I swear I heard the howling of some wild creature in the distance.

What was I to do? I couldn't stay in the car all night and possibly freeze to death. Or be tinned food for whatever hungry creature is out there. It could have been a giant man-eating haggis for all I know. I had no blanket in the car and I'd forgotten my overcoat at the office.

So there I was. All alone in a car with no means of communication. Cold. Hungry. Afraid. And I wanted to go to the toilet too. I should not have had that second cup of coffee they offered me. Coffee is quite diuretic, you know.

Stupidly perhaps, I decided to get out of the car and water a nearby tree. I could hold it no longer it was so freezing. Moments later I was back in the car totally wet and even colder than before because of the driving rain; but greatly relieved. After all, I had to do what I had to do and I could not do it from inside the car.

Now back in the car I was shivering and my teeth were chattering in tune with my racing heartbeat. My wet clothes stuck to the leather seat. My shoes and socks were soaking wet throughout. Because of the rain ... the rain ... are you paying attention? Please don't make up your own jokes at my misfortune.

Stupidly again, I decided to get out of the car and walk in any direction trying to find shelter. I locked the car and walked ahead in total darkness and driving rain, (or should I now say walking rain?)

Every so often my solitude was broken by the occasional clap of thunder followed by a flash of lightning.Or was it the other way round?

Anyway, after walking for about half an hour there it was. Not a castle, as you'd expect in the Highlands. But a house. Admittedly a large house; again just like you'd expect in horror movies. Big and dark with overhanging trees and climbing ivy everywhere. But not a castle.

I knocked at the door ... no bell. And eventually, after what seemed an eternity an old man opened the door.

He was wearing an eye patch. What I mean, he was wearing clothes, very old clothes, and he had an eye patch on. Did you really think he was wearing nothing else but an eye patch? Where would he put the eye-patch in that case? I wish you'd pay more attention.

"Och aye ... It’s a dreich day! Aye right." he said in his native tongue. I didn't understand a word he said, so I asked him whether I could seek shelter for the night.

"Yer're drookit!" he said, "Aye ... come in ... come in ..."

I entered a dark room lit by a couple of candles. He beckoned me to sit by a small log fire to keep warm.

As I sat there still shivering he walked away towards the wall and vanished through it.

My blood ran cold. A shiver, ran down my spine ... that's a new shiver, not the one I was shivering with previously. I could have said a frisson, but I was in Scotland not France. So a shiver it was ... och aye!

I could not believe my eyes. The man had actually walked through a wall.

Admittedly, it was dark, I was cold and freezing wet and quite hungry, but I assure you I was not hallucinating. I did not imagine it.

The man just walked towards the wall and vanished through it. The experience made me want to go to the toilet once again; but this time it had nothing to do with the coffee. I must have cried in fear a little because I felt tears running down my leg.

Moments later he returned through the wall just as he had vanished. He stood there looking at me with one eye. The other eye was covered by an eye patch, remember.

My knees were knocking together in rhythm with my heart and chattering teeth. I had butterflies in my stomach and their knees were knocking too. Even my goose bumps had goose bumps of their own.

"Are you ... are you  ... a spirit?" I heard myself mumble.

"Yer mean ... be I a drop of whisky?" he muttered, "Of course not ... I be a ghost ... A ghost, laddie. I been here fer' years. Och aye! Trapped in this house of doom fer ever, laddie."

I gulped and asked "Are you the ghost of a pirate? I mean ... the eye patch ..." I continued pointing at his face.

"Och no ... laddie," he said, "this be no pirate's doing! I got this one day as I was sliding through a keyhole and someone put a key in it. Occupational hazard for us ghosts!

"On another occasion I slid under a door. There was an old lassie on the other side vacuum cleaning and I got sucked in the vacuum cleaner."

I smiled and said nothing.

"Now I just walk right through walls and solid objects," he said in perfect English, "much safer don't you know old boy ... what?"

I picked up a bottle of vintage whisky nearby and took a gulp to keep me warm.

They found me the next morning fast asleep with an empty bottle beside me.

A Ghostly Experience

Not many people believe in ghosts. I didn't either. Until one day I saw one. Yes, I saw a ghost and he spoke to me. I'll never forget the experience.

It happened years ago on a dark and wintry night in the depth of a mountainous region of Scotland. I was driving late at night after visiting some business customers up North and somehow I lost my way. It was the days before satellite navigation systems and cell-phones to help you communicate and get from one place to another. It was raining heavily with thunder and lightning brightening the skies for brief intervals and piercing the darkness of the road ahead. As usually happens in ghost stories and movies, my car eventually stopped having run out of gas. But this was for real. Not a movie script which I could put down and return to my reality sitting next to a warm fire with a hot chocolate drink in my hands. This was for real. My car stopped in the middle of nowhere on a cold rainy night with thunder and lightning for companionship. I swear I heard the howling of some wild creature in the distance.

What was I to do? I couldn't stay in the car all night and possibly freeze to death. Or be tinned food for whatever hungry creature is out there. I had no blanket in the car and I'd forgotten my overcoat at the office of the business I was visiting on behalf of my employer.

So there I was. All alone in a car with no means of communication. Cold. Hungry. Afraid. And I wanted to go to the toilet too. I should not have had that second cup of coffee they offered me. Coffee is quite diuretic, you know.

Stupidly perhaps, I decided to get out of the car and water a nearby tree. I could hold it no longer. Moments later I was back in the car totally wet and even colder than before because of the driving rain; but greatly relieved. After all, I had to do what I had to do and I could not do it from inside the car.

Now back in the car I was shivering and my teeth were chattering in tune with my racing heartbeat. My wet clothes stuck to the leather seat. My shoes and socks were soaking wet throughout. Because of the rain ... the rain ... are you paying attention? Please don't make up your own jokes at my misfortune.

Stupidly again, I decided to get out of the car and walk in any direction trying to find shelter. I locked the car and walked ahead in total darkness and driving rain, (or should I now say walking rain?). Every so often my solitude was broken by the occasional clap of thunder followed by a flash of lightning. (This was Scotland where thunder comes first because up North sound travels faster than light. Everyone knows that!)

Anyway, after walking for about half an hour there it was. Not a castle, as you'd expect in the Highlands. But a house. Admittedly a large house; again just like you'd expect in horror movies, big and dark with overhanging trees and climbing ivy everywhere. But not a castle.

I knocked at the door ... no bell. And eventually, after what seemed an eternity an old man opened the door.

He was wearing an eye patch. What I mean, he was wearing clothes, very old clothes, and he had an eye patch on. Did you really think he was wearing nothing else but an eye patch? I wish you'd pay more attention.

"Och aye ... It’s a dreich day! Aye right." he said in his native tongue. I didn't understand a word he said, so I asked him whether I could seek shelter for the night.

"Yer're drookit!" he said, "Aye ... come in ... come in ..."

I entered a dark room lit by a couple of candles. He beckoned me to sit by a small log fire to keep warm. As I sat there still shivering he walked away towards the wall and vanished through it. My blood ran cold. A shiver, ran down my spine ... that's a new shiver, not the one I was shivering with previously. I could have said a frisson, but I was in Scotland not France. So a shiver it was ... och aye!

I could not believe my eyes. The man had actually walked through a wall. Admittedly, it was dark, I was cold and freezing wet and quite hungry, but I assure you I was not hallucinating. I did not imagine it. The man just walked towards the wall and vanished through it. The experience made me want to go to the toilet once again; and this time it had nothing to do with the coffee. I must have cried in fear a little because I felt tears running down my leg.

Moments later he returned through the wall just as he had vanished. He stood there looking at me with one eye. The other eye was covered by an eye patch, remember.

My knees were knocking together in rhythm with my heart and chattering teeth. I had butterflies in my stomach and their knees were knocking too. Even my goose bumps had goose bumps of their own.

"Are you ... are you  ... a spirit?" I heard myself mumble.

"Yer mean ... be I a drop of whisky?" he muttered, "Of course not ... I be a ghost ... A ghost, laddie. I been here fer' years. Och aye! Trapped in this house of doom fer ever, laddie."

I gulped and asked "Are you the ghost of a pirate? I mean ... the eye patch ..." I continued pointing at his face.

"Och no ... laddie," he said, "this be no pirate's doing! I got this one day as I was sliding through a keyhole and someone put a key in it. Occupational hazard for us ghosts!"

I smiled and said nothing.

"Now I just walk right through walls and solid objects" he said in perfect English, "much safer what?"

I picked up a bottle of vintage whisky nearby and took a gulp to keep me warm.

They found me the next morning fast asleep with an empty bottle beside me.