Reviewed by: Believe Not Every Spirit: Possession, Mysticism, and Discernment in Early Modern Catholicism Alison Weber Believe Not Every Spirit: Possession, Mysticism, and Discernment in Early Modern Catholicism. By Moshe Sluhovsky. (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press. 2007. Pp. x, 374. $45.00. ISBN 978-0-226-76282-1.) In this fascinating and well-written study, Moshe Sluhovsky explores how early-modern Catholics struggled to create a reliable, probative method for reading supernatural signs in human bodies and actions. Were beatific ecstasies, visions, and voices gifts from God? Or were they deceptions of the devil, wont, as St. Paul warned, to disguise himself as an angel of light? Were demonic torments signs of sinfulness or spiritual progress? Drawing on extensive sources primarily from Spain, France, and Italy, Sluhovsky posits a close correlation between the diffusion and democratization of mysticism and the increasingly frequent determination that possessing spirits—especially in cases involving women—were demonic rather than divine. Part 1 addresses changes in the practice of exorcism that occurred in the early-modern period. At the end of the Middle Ages, demonic possession was a catchall term for various afflictions that failed to respond to medical cures, and exorcism was a common healing technique practiced by laity and clergy alike. There was no standard rite, nor was there agreement as to whether exorcism worked ex opere operato (by virtue of the rite itself) or ex opere operantis (by virtue of the exorcist’s divine gift). The sixteenth century, however, witnessed an explosion of treatises on exorcism and the discernment of spirits. What made the sixteenth century the Golden Age of possession? Previous scholars have argued that the printing press made it possible for Catholics to utilize dramatic stories of successful exorcisms in the propaganda war against Protestantism. Sluhovsky identifies another crucial factor—the “spiritualization of possession,” that is, the notion that possession can take place in the soul as well as in the body. As exorcists consequently acquired new importance as interpreters of souls, the Church moved to standardize the rite and exclude lay practitioners, a campaign that culminated in the Roman Rite of 1614. Although these efforts were part of the broader post-Tridentine program of clarifying the boundaries between the sacred and profane, Sluhovsky posits another concern: the growing anxiety over lay misappropriations of beliefs, practices, and rituals. [End Page 367] In part 2, Sluhovsky provides a lucid account of the nonsynchronous schools of Catholic interior spirituality. He groups various movements (recogimiento, dejamiento, Alumbradismo, orthodox Carmelite spirituality, Pelagianism, Molinism, and Salesian spirituality, among others) under the umbrella terms of pre-Quietism and, following Molinos’s condemnation in 1685, Quietism. Although these terms are burdened with connotations of sexual excess, there is no denying the usefulness of a comprehensive rubric for orthodox and heterodox forms of mysticism. A main argument of this section is that early modern Catholics established an increasingly close correspondence between the effects of mystical contemplation and diabolic possession. Many feared that the quieting of senses, memory, and will during contemplation could leave the soul susceptible to demonic assaults, as evil spirits rushed to fill the void in consciousness with libidinous suggestions and blasphemous ideas. Such fears were compounded by the belief that spiritually advanced souls aroused the particular ire of the devil. It is not surprising, therefore, that pre-Quietists and Quietists were accused of sexual improprieties. Sluhovsky declines to enter into a debate over whether the alleged debaucheries actually took place; his concern, rather, is with the theological anxieties that motivated such allegations. Part 3 addresses Catholic efforts to develop an infallible method of discernment—efforts that ultimately failed. Sluhovsky does an admirable job of analyzing influential texts from a vast corpus. From Gerson to Bossuet, he shows, the literature of discernment deployed misogynistic topoi—defining women as mentally inferior to men, more sensual, devious, and more easily deceived by the devil. According to Sluhovsky, however, this mistrust of feminine spirituality reached a peak in the late-seventeenth century, when a majority of women were judged as deluded, impostors, or possessed. Nevertheless, certain extraordinary women—notably Teresa of Ávila and Jeanne de Chantal—overcame criticism and even succeeded in practicing the art of discernment within...