It’s been a fairly long time since most of us took the devil seriously, so it’s awkward to be confronted with the possibility that Jesus did take the devil seriously; that Jesus might actually have believed that the devil existed; and that Jesus might actually have encountered the devil face to face. Now and then, in my darkest hours - which are few and far between, to be honest, even at times like these - but in my darkest hours, I find it easier to relate to those possibilities: that Jesus took the devil seriously, that Jesus knew the devil exists; and the Jesus confronted the devil face to face, as we are told by St. Luke that he did.
Christian theology has never conceived of the devil as anything close to God’s equal. A persistent adversary that is willing to put up a fight doesn’t have to be an equal to cause lots of grief. The devil is not, in our view, the dark side of a coin or equation of which God is the light side. The devil is not the yin to God’s yang. Not every cause of our heartbreak comes from the devil: not sickness, or tornadoes, or heart attacks, and probably not even Covid; not tsunamis, or the wildness of a grizzly bear, or the pregnancy that did not make it to term.
But we do conceive of the devil as the prince of darkness, who finds strength in anything that causes us humans despair, as those awful events surely do. And we see that the devil’s area of expertise and interest is primarily in turning the human soul inward, to be ever more concerned with the self, ever more interested in one’s self above all else, ever more intolerant of anything that does not gratify one’s self. Every one of us faces these tendencies to center our attention more intensely on our own selves - my wants, my desires, maybe even my real needs - to a degree that is not good for us. We should hardly be surprised that as he prepared for his healing, forgiving, and life-giving ministry, Jesus confronted the darkness that takes offense at his light, and that that darkness, knowing that Jesus’ life was given for others, sought to bend Jesus’ life back in, toward himself, seeking to ply him with sustenance in his hour of hunger, power in his season of weakness, and pride in the time of his deepening humility.
There’s a line in an old country song that goes like this: “the devil made me do it the first time, the second time I did it on my own.” Of course, it’s a clever turn of phrase, delivered with a wink and a laugh. But, of course, it’s also funny because it’s true, or at least, it’s very close to the truth. Once we have allowed our attention to be turned inward, once we start to become ever more concerned and interested in our own selves, and ever more intolerant of anything that does not gratify ourselves, we find it’s easier to face that way than it is to make the effort to turn around and face others; and, in fact, there is much we enjoy about it. Being self-centered pays a lot of dividends up front. The devil might have made us do it the first time, but the second time, and every time thereafter, we may do it happily on our own. As it happens, there is a strong scriptural basis for this clever turn of phrase, but that’s not what the song is about.
People mostly tend to think that religion is about the first part of that phrase - that the devil made me do it the first time. But only a very small part of religion is really about that. Most of religion is about the second part of the phrase - that the second time I did it on my own. Most of religion says, “Yes… and what are we going to do about that?”
Jesus walks into the wilderness, and the devil, who is not yet convinced that Jesus is the Son of God, knows how these things work, and he knows an opportunity when he sees one. I’ll get him to do it the first time, the devil thinks, and the rest will take care of itself. But Jesus does not yield. Jesus does not require the devil’s sustenance; he does not want the devil’s power; he will not be puffed up with the devil’s pride. The devil can’t make Jesus do anything: not the first time, the second, or any time thereafter. Jesus is not just the light side of the devil’s dark math. Jesus is not merely the yang to the devil’s yin. For Jesus is light itself come into the world, and the darkness cannot overcome it. Not the first time, the second time, or any time thereafter. And the religion of Jesus is built in part on knowing this important truth: that Jesus is the light, and the devil’s darkness cannot overcome it, though he will try: a persistent adversary who knows how to put up a fight.
We are living in age of moral quandary. Can we tell the difference between the truth and lies? Can we tell the difference between right and wrong? Can we tell the difference between good and bad. And many people are not convinced about who the devil is; they are not convinced the devil exists. At its best, religion helps us figure out the truth about what’s happening in our world and our lives, not only because we become convinced about the devil who can make us do things the first time, but because we see what damage we do to ourselves and our neighbors, when we do things a second time, entirely on our own.
When we live in a society that encourages amassing fortunes so outrageously enormous that no one needs them, and still allows huge swaths of people to live in abject poverty, is this the devil’s doing or our own?
When we can see plainly the effects of four hundred years of racism in our nation, but we shrug and say it’s not really a problem, is that the devil’s doing or our own?
When an army of bullies storms its way into a democratic nation’s capital by force just because they want to and they have enough brute strength to do it, is that the devil’s doing or our own?
When we pour poison into, under, and all around our planet as though it doesn’t matter, is that the devil’s doing or our own?
And when we obscure the difference between truth and lies, we blur the difference between right and wrong, we confuse the differences between good and bad, is that the devil’s doing or our own?
Jesus’ experience in the wilderness tells us that the devil exists. It doesn’t tell us what the devil looks like, or if he sits on one shoulder or the other, or whether he’s serpent or a spirit; but it tells us the devil is real. Considering all we know about human history, it should not be too far fetched for us to believe that there is a prince of darkness, whose only aim is to turn our energy and emotions in, toward ourselves, to make us self-centered, self-interested, and intolerant of others. There is a persistent foe who is willing to put up a fight in order to win us over.
But the good news is this: the devil is no match for Jesus. He may persist, but he cannot prevail against Jesus. The darkness has not overcome the light, and it will not overcome the light.
Here’s more good news: the devil has nothing good to offer you and me. We do not need the devil’s sustenance, we’ll never require the devil’s power, and there is nothing to be gained by being puffed up with the devil’s pride. If Jesus doesn’t need any of that from the devil, then neither do we. The devil tried to convince Jesus to turn in toward himself, and think only of himself. But the devil could not do it the first time, and Jesus will not do it on his own.
Here’s more good news: We can tell the truth. We do know right from wrong. We can choose to be good. All these things are clearer and easier to do in the light of Jesus’ love.
Here’s more good news: there is nothing the devil can make us do the first time. And if there is no first time, then perhaps we’ll never ever do it on our own. But remember, most of religion is about dealing with the second time, the times we err and stray from God’s ways like lost sheep, entirely on our own. Maybe that’s why they call them “second chances.” And here’s more good news, since Jesus came to forgive us our sins: we get all the second chances we need.
Come quickly, Lord Christ, to help us who re assaulted by many temptations; and, as you know the weaknesses of each of us, let each one find you mighty to save!
Preached by Fr. Sean Mullen
6 March 2022
Saint Mark’s, Locust Street, Philadelphia
The Temptation of Christ by Gustave Doré