The "Mystifying Oracle" is an Abomination to the Lord

"There shall not be found among you any one who burns his son or his daughter as an offering, any one who practices divination, a soothsayer, or an augur, or a sorcerer, or a charmer, or a medium, or a wizard, or a necromancer. For whoever does these things is an abomination to the Lord; and because of these abominable practices the Lord your God is driving them out before you."
Deuteronomy 18:10-12, RSVCE

I am fairly certain that I have never posted, here in The Small Shoppe, an article such as this previously.  I do so now in response to several requests from friends who have become privy to the fact that I have, in my past, a rather incredible experience involving my innocent and ignorant receipt and use of a most curious Christmas gift.

As I am now in my early sixties, it is possible -- nay, likely -- that I may be off by a year or so, when I estimate that these events took place when I had approximately 7 years of earthly life to my credit.

Someone, I am supposing an aunt or an uncle, and I am supposing innocently enough, gave me a rather large, gift wrapped box, containing my Christmas gift.  From the size and dimensions of the package, I surmised that it was some sort of board game.  As I tore the wrapping away, and tossed the ribbon and bow to the floor, I remember being somewhat awe struck at the enticing imagery on the box I now held in my hands.

I'm not sure that I could yet have read the words "Mystifying Oracle," and I know I could not have correctly pronounced "Ouija," yet I knew that there was something magical, and perhaps a bit "spooky" about this present that I now clutched tightly; sensing it had some great value.

I don't think my parents knew anything of ouija boards, nor of oracles.  It is likely that they took my aunt or uncle's word that it was nothing more than a fun game, that would provide hours of entertainment and fun for the family.

I do remember that we took it out of the box, set it on a card table, and tried to make it "work."  As I recall, it did nothing at the time.  Later, my older sister and older brother got it to spell out some things, but we all assumed they were pushing the little gizmo around, to make it say what they wanted.  This may well have been the case.

Uncharacteristic as it may be for males, I've always been the type to actually read directions and manuals.  When I determined that the ouija board was not working as described, I took out the directions, and my older brother and I gave it another go.  We touched our fingers so lightly to the movable piece (the thing I earlier referred to as a gizmo), that we could only barely feel that we were touching it at all.  Then, one of us -- I can't say for certain if it was I, or my brother, asked a question.  

After several minutes of nothing, the gizmo began to slowly glide around, stopping over certain letters, but neither my brother nor I could make heads or tails out of it; it seemed like gibberish to us. Then we tried asking some "yes" or "no" type questions, and the results came easier, and with less waiting.

Soon one of my sisters took over, and she had the ouija board answering questions to the obvious delight and amazement of our aunts, uncles, and cousins who were present.

I only remember playing with it a few times after that, and then it, like many board games received for Christmas, found itself unceremoniously stacked in a pile in our hall closet.

Strangely, it kept showing up on the floor in the living room, or in one of our bedrooms -- the children's bedrooms though, not my parents' room.  We would put it back in the closet, when told to by our mother, and in a day or so, it would be sitting out again.

Sometime thereafter, my mother had spoken with a chaplain at the Catholic Hospital at which she was employed, one Fr. Angelus Stunek, O.F.M., and he had filled her in on the dangers of ouija boards.  When my mother got home, she spoke with my father about it, and he took and dispatched the mystifying oracle to the garbage cans which had just been placed outside our backyard fence, for pick up the next morning.

The next day, after the garbage crew came and left, my dad found the ouija board on a bench at our kitchen table.  He demanded to know who had retrieved it from the garbage, and he received the response often heard by parents, the world over, "not me."  So, out it went to the garbage can again.

Later that evening, the ouija board turned up tucked under the couch where my mom usually sat after supper, while she would read the newspaper.

At this, my dad took the board outside, and chopped it into pieces with the axe with which he usually chopped wood for our furnace.  Then, he bagged the pieces, and, again, put them in the garbage.

That same evening, my father found the ouija board in our toy box, located in one corner of the living room.  The board showed signs of having been cut, or chopped into pieces, but it did not appear as though it had been glued or taped back together.  I appeared as though it had grown back together; as though the cuts and chops had been healed.

I remember my dad saying "This is it!"  He took the board outside, chopped it up again, burned it, and stayed outside until it was entirely reduced to ashes, and then poured holy water over the ashes until they were reduced to a black puddle.  Then, using a shovel, he dug up the ashy mud, and buried in our flower garden, under an outdoor shrine of Our Lady.  Some days later, Fr. Angelus came by, and blessed the garden.  He may have done other prayers and rites as well, but at my age at the time, I cannot now say for certain.  I can say for certain, that the mystifying oracle never again worked its way back into our home.

For more information on the Catholic view of Ouija Boards, see: http://www.catholic.com/quickquestions/are-ouija-boards-harmless