Lycanthropy and Catholicism

Even a man who is pure in heart,

And says his prayers by night,

May become a wolf when the wolfbane blooms,

And the moon is full and bright.

Curt Siodmak

There are many different legends of bestial wolf-men and werewolves throughout history.

Lycanthropy appears as early as the second century BC when the Greek geographer Pausanias recounts the legend of Lycaon. According to legend, Lycaon ritually murdered a child and then offered the flesh to Zeus, who, in his anger, turned Lycaon into a wolf.

The Greeks have other legends concerning werewolves; they believed a person could become a Vrykolakas by having been killed or dying after living a sacrilegious life, being excommunicated, being buried in unconsecrated land, or eating the meat of sheep wounded by a wolf or werewolf. After death, the Vrykolakas would rise from the dead as a werewolf, and if killed again, the Vrykolakas could become a powerful vampire, retaining the sharp fangs and hairy palms of a wolf. This played into the novel Dracula by Bram Stoker. In the novel, Dracula states that the legend of the werewolf originated in his Szekely racial bloodline. Dracula shape-shifted into a wolf at night and during the day appeared as an old man with unusually long canines and hairy palms.

According to another legend, Romulus and Remus, who were the grandsons of King Numitor and the children of his daughter Rhea Silvia, were thrown into the Tiber River by order of their uncle Amulius, who feared they would overthrow him. The twins were found by a she-wolf and nursed, raising them as her own pups. Later, a shepherd, Faustulus, and his wife would find the boys and raise them. The two brothers would kill their great-uncle and reinstate their grandfather as king. Later, the two brothers tried to build a city together but would fight, leading to Romulus killing his brother Remus. Romulus would go on to become the founder of Rome and the forefather of the Romans. While not werewolves, they have something of a bestial nature, considering Romulus murdered his own brother.

In Norse mythology, Fenrir, one of the children of Loki, is a great wolf and demigod who killed Odin after breaking free from the chains of Ragnarok and was later slain by Vidar, another one of Odin's children. The Norse had their own werewolf stories involving father and son Sigmundr and Sinfjötli, who would transform into wolves by putting on magical wolf pelts. Other legends of the Norse involve the Úlfhéðnar, who were elite Viking warriors who took on wolf-like attributes in their fury, similar to the Berserkers, who took on the characteristics of bears and were devoted to Odin.

In Ireland, there are many stories about werewolves and wolfish men, such as the Fianna, a band of wolfish lads led by Fionn mac Cumhaill. He was descended from the Fir Bolg and had encounters with the Tuatha Dé Danann; he was something of an Irish Odysseus or Jason.

Jinn, Fae, and Elementals

Other stories involve the Laignech Fáelad, a warrior werewolf, and his noble lineage of the Ossory kings, who were all werewolves.

Later in Ireland, as Christianity spread throughout the land, St. Patrick was heckled by a band of blasphemers and sacrilegious men who were cursed as werewolves through the prayers of St. Patrick, who drove the serpents out of Ireland.

In France and in North America, in Quebec, Canada, and the United States (in Louisiana and other states where Acadian and Cajun people reside), there are tales of the Rougarou, a French werewolf or shapeshifter who, similar to the Native American Skinwalker, could take on the form of various different animals besides wolves. A person would become cursed if they were unrepentant during Lent for seven years straight or were bitten or cursed by another Rougarou.

The Skinwalker of the Navajo tribe was a medicine man or woman who turned evil and apprenticed under another Skinwalker, who was similar to a warlock or witch. A sacrifice was made through a heinous act, like murdering a loved one, and after that, the person could assume the form of various animals besides wolves or coyotes. Other Indigenous tribes have their own versions of the Skinwalker or Wendigo, but each tribe has its own culture, language, and words.

The Quileute tribe, which was the basis for the Twilight werewolves, believed that their ancestors were descended from wolves. According to their belief, the Dokibatt and Kwaiti are a dual deity that created the people of the Quileute tribe by transforming a wolf into a person.

Becoming a werewolf isn't always a choice; those bitten by werewolves can become cursed to turn into a werewolf by night or by the light of the full moon. In film and later in fiction, the curse of the werewolf was spread by its bite, but there are other ways people were believed to be cursed by lycanthropy.

Besides being cursed, people could also voluntarily undergo the transformation into a werewolf. Examples include wearing a belt made out of wolf pelt and saying some incantations, rubbing magic salve over their body, and drinking rainwater from the footprint of a wolf. Sometimes the curse or initiation didn't create a physical transformation but a spiritual one, where the person who became a werewolf would go into a meditative trance and astral project in wolf form into our world.

In Western Europe, in Italy and France, it was believed that the transformation is caused by sleeping out in the open on certain Wednesdays or Fridays with the moon shining on the person's face. Ironically, Wednesday and Friday are holy days in Christianity, traditionally recognized as days of fasting and penance.

In Eastern Europe, in Livonia, werewolf transformation is initiated by emptying a cup of specially prepared beer and reciting a set formula of incantations. This incantation is sung in Ralston's The Songs of the Russian People. The South Slavs and Kashubs in modern-day Northern Poland believed that children born with hair, birthmarks, or a caul on their head were destined to become werewolves. In Hungary, in the region of Transdanubia, it is believed that the curse of the werewolf is brought on in infancy by abuse, suffering, or being cursed. It's also believed in Hungary that a person can obtain the curse by walking under an arch made of birch wood three times with the help of a wild rose's spine.

In the Middle East, in Armenia, it was believed that women who committed deadly sins would be visited by a spirit holding a wolf's pelt, and the woman would be condemned to living life as a wolf for seven years.

Throughout the world, there are many more types of werewolves or were-animals, such as the Japanese Kitsune, a bipedal were-fox that could also assume a human form. 

Sometimes werewolves are humans that transform into beasts, and other times they are beasts in and of themselves, such as the Greek Cynocephaly or Cynocephalus, or Dog-Headed Men. These creatures had the body of a man and the head of a dog or jackal, sometimes being connected to the Egyptian god of death, Anubis. In modern times in America, a type of werewolf-like cryptid creature called the Dogman is sometimes seen in cemeteries and is believed by some to have a connection to Anubis or Hellhounds in Greek and Christian folklore and mythology. The topic of the Cynocephalus is a subject of debate and speculation amongst Christian theologians like St. Augustine, who corresponded with other clerics discussing whether the Cynocephaly were human and if they could be baptized and saved? The answer was yes, and that brings me to Catholic and Orthodox Christian Saint, St. Christopher.

Besides being the patron saint of surfers and motorists, as well as all manner of travelers, he is attributed to being one of the Roman Martyrs in the Early Church. St. Christopher was the Conan the Barbarian of saints; he was born with the name Reprobus, which in Latin means a person destined for hell.

Because of his great size, a literal giant, he was filled with pride and would only serve the greatest power on Earth, serving as a soldier and mercenary. His first master was a king of Canaan who had a mighty army and quickly took Reprobus into his inner circle. One day, the king's fool was singing a song, and every time he mentioned the devil, the king, who was a Christian, would make the sign of the cross. Reprobus asked the king why he would cross himself, and the king answered that he made the sign of the cross to protect himself from the devil so that he would do him no harm. Reprobus answered, "If you are afraid of the devil, then I will go serve him because I will serve no one except the greatest lord of this world." Reprobus wandered the desert searching for the evil one when he came across a swarthy band of men, one man looking more terrible than the rest. Their leader asked Reprobus what he was doing in such a wasteland? Reprobus replied that he was looking for the devil, as he had heard that he is the greatest lord of the world, and the leader of the band of wicked men answered, "I am he." Reprobus swore allegiance to Satan as a soldier of hell's army. One day, the devil and his men came near a roadside cross, and the devil began trembling, ordering his men to leave the road and take a long detour through the mountains. When Reprobus asked the devil why they were going out of their way? The devil answered that a man by the name of Christ was nailed to a cross; the devil answered, "Every time I see a cross, I am afraid." Reprobus then replied to the devil, "Then Christ must be stronger than you; I will go serve him." Wandering the desert, Reprobus found a hermit who explained what it meant to be a servant of Christ.

The hermit told Reprobus to live by the river and to carry on his shoulders travelers wishing to cross; such a task would be pleasing to Christ, and perhaps he would reveal himself to him there. One day, a little boy asked Reprobus to take him across the river. The child climbed onto the shoulders of Reprobus, and as he carried this little boy across, no older than two or three years of age, the boy became heavier until, finally, midway into crossing, Reprobus thought he might just drown with the child. Reprobus carried on, struggling with this child on his shoulders, becoming heavier with every step, afraid the child would be swept away and drowned. Reprobus safely led the child to the other side of the river and then said to the child, "Boy, you put us at great risk; who are you?" The child looked at Reprobus and then told him, "Today you carried on your shoulders the creator of the world; I am Christ, your king," then vanished. From that day forward, Reprobus became Christopher, which means Christ Bearer.

St. Christopher was believed to be a giant, possibly one of the Nephilim or a Cynocephalus transforming into a human after baptism. The depiction of dog-headed saints comes from Byzantine iconography; it was meant to depict Christopher as a Marmaritae because, in one version of St. Christopher's story, during the reign of Emperor Diocletian, he was captured during war and assigned to the Unit of the Marmaritae. A Marmaritae would be a person from Syria, and hagiographers believed that saints depicted with dog heads were of Canaanite ancestry.

St. Andrew, St. Bartholomew, and St. Parthians are depicted with dog heads as well, then shown with human features after baptism. In one story, after Christopher had carried the Christ child, he was ashamed of his past life and was then baptized by our Lord, gaining human features.

Later in his life, Christopher left the river to comfort Christians in Lycia (present-day Turkey) who were being martyred under the reign of Emperor Decius (249-251). He was captured and brought before the local king but refused to sacrifice to pagan gods, so was imprisoned. During his imprisonment, the king sent women to seduce Christopher, but Christopher resisted temptation and instead converted them all to Christianity. Eventually, he was martyred with the rest of the Christians, where he was shot with arrows and then beheaded.

St. Christopher is found in the Roman Martyrology; his feast day is July 25th. The earliest artistic image of him is dated from approximately the year 550 AD and is preserved in the Monastery of St. Catherine on Mount Sinai, and what is believed to be a relic of his skull is held in The Museum of Sacred Art at Saint Justine's Church.

St. Christopher is the patron saint of ferrymen, sailors, mariners, fishermen, motorists, cyclists, athletes, and many more causes. People place St. Christopher medals around their necks, in their vehicles, or on keys to protect them on their travels. Medals with enamel coatings are especially popular in skate and surf shops or souvenir shops in coastal towns.

There is a famous and beloved poem about St Christopher by Silas Weir Mitchell. 

St Christopher 

FOR A CHILD

THERE was none so tall as this giant bold.

He had a name that could not be told,

A name so crooked no Christian men

Could say it over and speak again.

One day he came where a good man prayed

All alone in the forest shade.

Then the giant in wonder said:

"Why do you bend the knee and head?"

"I bend," he said, "because I be

The weakest thing that you can see.

To Christ who is so good and strong,

I pray for help to do no wrong."

"Ho," said the giant, "when I see

One strong enough to conquer me,

I shall be glad to bend my knees,

Which are as stout as any trees."

"But," said the good man, sad and old,

"Yon stream is deep, the water cold.

Prayer is the Spirit's work for some.

Work is the prayer of the body dumb."

"If that be prayer," said the giant tall,

"The maimed and sick, the weak and small,

Across the stream and to and fro,

I shall carry and come and go,

Until the time when I shall see

Thy strong Christ come to humble me."

So all day long, with patient hand,

He bore the weak from strand to strand.

At last, one eve, when winds were wild,

He heard the voice of a little child

Saying, "Giant, art thou asleep?

Carry me over the river deep."

On his shoulder broad he set the child,

And laughed to see how the infant smiled.

Up to his waist the giant strode,

While fierce around the water flowed;

His great back shook, his great knees bent,

As staggering through the waves he went.

"Why is this?" he cried aloud;

"Why should my great back be bowed?"

Spake from his shoulder, sweet and clear,

A voice,—'t was like a bird's to hear,—

"I am the Christ to whom men pray

"When comes the morn and wanes the day."

"No," said the giant, "a child art thou.

Not to a babe shall proud men bow!"

He set the child on the farther land,

And wiped his brow with shaking hand.

"In truth," he cried, "the load was great,

Wherefore art thou this heavy weight?"

The little child said, "I was heavy to thee

Because the world's sins rest on me."

"If thou canst carry them all on thee,

Who art but a little child to see,

Thou must be strong, and I be weak,

And thou must be the one I seek."

Therefore the giant, day by day,

Still kept his work, and learned to pray.

And his pagan name that none should hear

Was changed to Giant Christopher.

Many clerics particularly the Bollandist who identified 17 different Latin versions of St Christopher's story relegated many patristic saints to being mythical. They may be correct or they may be wrong but I'd like to believe the stories of St Christopher and other early church saints as being true. In Matthew 18:3 Christ commands us to having a child like faith. Such childlike simplicity and trust remind me of a quote a late friend of mine by the name of Jim Carrol loved to reference. 

Romance? Let me say something of the wild poetry that now rules my life.

I have a charm chalked on my front door to call a blessing down from wide Heaven. I carry a Rosary like a deadly weapon in my pocket and hang the medallion of Saint Justin Martyr, whose name I take as my true name, atop my computer monitor where he can stare at me.

Two angels follow me unseen as I walk, and I live in a world of exorcists and barefoot friars, muses and prophets, healers who lay on hands, mighty spiritual warriors hidden in crippled bodies, and fallen angels made of pure malicious spirit obeying their damned and darkened Sultan from his darkest throne in Hell. And I live in a world where a holy Child was born a secret king beneath a magic star, and the animals knelt and prayed. And from that dread lord, the small Child will save us.

My life these days is a storybook story. If there were more romance in it, it would be enough to choke Jonah’s whale. Without Catholicism, there is no romance. Outside the Church, where are the miracles?

Should I hide this? Should I hide a world larger and more glorious than mortal worlds?

It is the only type of story worth a man’s time to tell or heed.”

John C. Wright

Stay strong in your faith and behold Saint Christopher and go your way in saftey.