Lent 1: Wilderness Testing

Scripture Matthew 4:1-11 

 

Then Jesus was led up by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tested by the devil. He fasted forty days and forty nights, and afterward he was famished. The tempter came and said to him, “If you are the Son of God, command these stones to become loaves of bread.” But he answered, “It is written,

‘One does not live by bread alone,
    but by every word that comes from the mouth of God.’”

Then the devil took him to the holy city and placed him on the pinnacle of the temple, saying to him, “If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down, for it is written,

‘He will command his angels concerning you,’
    and ‘On their hands they will bear you up,
so that you will not dash your foot against a stone.’”

Jesus said to him, “Again it is written, ‘Do not put the Lord your God to the test.’”

Again, the devil took him to a very high mountain and showed him all the kingdoms of the world and their glory,  and he said to him, “All these I will give you, if you will fall down and worship me.” Then Jesus said to him, “Away with you, Satan! for it is written,

‘Worship the Lord your God,
    and serve only him.’”

Then the devil left him, and suddenly angels came and waited on him.

 

Sermon      Testing in the Wilderness                   Rev. Pat Raube  

In 1942, Christian author C. S. Lewis published an epistolary novel known as “The Screwtape Letters.” It contained letters of advice from an administrative level devil, Screwtape, to his nephew Wormwood, who was on his first assignment trying to tempt a human (whom they called “The Patient”).

 

I’m no C. S. Lewis, but today I am going to engage in a similar enterprise. Today’s sermon is a first-person account, from the point of view of the devil who tempted Jesus. Pray for me.

 

~~

 

Of course, Jesus has been on our radar, to use a 20th century word, since, well, the beginning. The very beginning. Their God is so transparent, no security to hide the divine intentions whatsoever. Prophets spouting their plans for centuries. In some ways, the easiest foe to defeat. So, even before he was conceived, we knew about him—this strange hybrid Man-God, but not like the Greek demigods. Somehow fully their God and fully human. We still can’t get a decent explanation of that from any of their fallen.

 

But we were aware of the prophecy of the birth, and then the choosing of the earthly family, and of course, we watched—from a distance—as the tyke grew up. Why in the underworld did their God put him with such a family? Poor, humble… why didn’t they put him in a royal household, one with an army at its disposal? His father was a carpenter, for pity’s sake. (Though, it was a nice bit of irony when he died on something a carpenter built).

 

We were there when the family took their pilgrimage to their holy city, Jerusalem, and watched with glee as the boy separated from his family to go back to the Temple. We hung around there, hoping to catch him while his parents weren’t around. But the whole time, he was surrounded by all this piety, all this faith, all this goodwill. This was going to be trickier than we’d originally thought.

 

Finally, he was launched—he’d reach the age of maturity and gone to be dunked by that baptizer in the muddy Jordan River. But we could not believe what happened next. Imagine our delight when their God’s Spirit actually sent Jesus into the wilderness alone. No family. No friends. No food, and precious little water. I tell you, all around hell the demons were rubbing their hands together, and vying for this prime assignment. They chose me.

 

I waited until he was worn down with exhaustion and hunger—until forty days had passed, and I knew that he was, in every way, at his weakest. This was going to be fun. I appeared before him when he was asleep, just inside the cave where he usually took shelter from the midday heat. He looked ghastly, even for a human. His clothing filthy and all but falling off him. Emaciated, with deep circles under his eyes, his mouth crusted, his lips looking as if they’d been burned. I saw a collection of rocks just a few feet away from him, and knew my first move. I sat down next to him and said, in my most gentle, caring voice,

 

“If you are the Son of God, command these stones to become loaves of bread.”

~Matt. 4:3

 

Of course, the first appeal needed to be to his basic human instinct, survival. We know what hunger is—we’re the force behind all the starving people in your world today, one of our most successful campaigns. All we have to do is to make our appeals to the greed of the right people, and voila. Plenty of food, lots of people still dying. And this wasn’t even that kind of appeal—he was hungry. We had thirty years of surveillance showing us that this GodMan got hungry. If you’re God and Man, the Man gets hungry. It’s just logic.

 

He opened his eyes and looked at me. I couldn’t read his expression, which surprised me. Generally, humans are pretty transparent when they’re that near death. When he spoke, it was barely a whisper, as if he didn’t have enough strength to speak. I thought that was a good sign, until he said,

 

“It is written, ‘One does not live by bread alone,
    but by every word that comes from the mouth of God.’” ~Matt. 4:4

 

I… was surprised. What’s the harm in him conjuring some bread for himself? (Of course, you know the answer to that—it keeps him from trusting fully in his God, or his God-self, or whatever the deal is with that. Still. I was annoyed. This move is usually foolproof.)

 

I grabbed his arm and apparated us to the holy city. Not just the holy city, but the Temple. Not just the Temple, but the pinnacle of it—the highest turret, with the greatest view.

 

Now his eyes were open, and his breath started to come faster. I thought, “Now I’ve got you.”

 

This time, I did not use my most gentle voice. I said, ““If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down, for it is written,

 

‘He will command his angels concerning you,’
    and ‘On their hands they will bear you up,
so that you will not dash your foot against a stone.’” ~Matt. 4:6

 

This time, I made a direct challenge to his vanity. I presumed that he was planning to go around Galilee, telling everyone he was the Son of God. Well, he’d better have some tricks up his sleeve to prove it. And if I, with my recent promotion to Demon First Class, could get him to show those tricks to me… well, that would be a win, wouldn’t it?

 

But now he was no longer whispering. Now his voice came out stronger, as he said,

 

“Again it is written, ‘Do not put the Lord your God to the test.’” ~Matt. 4:7

 

Huh. OK, so, not interested in doing tricks. He was proving a greater challenge to me than I’d anticipated. Now I was getting angry. Once again, I grabbed that thin arm. This time I took him to Mount Quruntul, not only overlooking the great city Jericho, but providing, through my own magic, a view of all the world’s great cities. A strong wind whipped across the peak where we stood—I could see it buffeting his thin frame. The danger of falling to a premature death was real. I could see it in his eyes. I drew close enough to him that I knew he could feel the heat of hell rising from my skin. Now, I whispered,

 

“All these I will give you, if you will fall down and worship me.” ~Matt. 4:9

 

This was the temptation that never failed. Take a person who has decided to live a public life and offer them the power they inevitably crave. In Jesus’ case, he could even reason that, who else should have the power but he? He was the right and natural person for it, coming as he did, from God. I was counting on his weakness blinding him to the fact that the ends do not necessarily justify the means, and that worshiping me would be an unspeakable violation of his person and mission.

 

I watched Jesus, who drew himself up, appearing, suddenly, taller than he had when I’d first tempted him. His eyes were clear. His voice was steady, firm. As he spoke, he leaned down, suddenly dwarfing me.

 

“Away with you, Satan! for it is written,

‘Worship the Lord your God,
    and serve only him.’” ~Matt. 4:10

 

At that moment I felt myself yanked backward, as if by a leash attached to my waist, and I was back in the hot, chaotic underworld. I had failed. There would be a price to pay. I roared in fury and frustration.

 

I won’t go into my punishment.

 

But I will say that I failed. I failed to get a starving man to eat, to get God’s own Son to demonstrate his confidence in God, to get a soon-to-be superstar to accept all earthly power for the low, low price of a bended knee. I had failed.

 

Jesus, on the other hand, had triumphed. He had shown only disdain for everything I offered him, from miraculous bread to marvelous riches. He had proved himself trustworthy. He had kept his eye on that God of his—of theirs. He had trusted in someone who wasn’t even there… at least, to my eyes. Maybe his God has better security than I’d thought. Worst of all, he had shown himself in complete solidarity with the humans. He’d shown that he wouldn’t take advantage of his God-like powers to show people that he was actually God. This was bad. This was very bad for us. But… could it be… did he actually love those humans? Would he never give himself special privileges over them? He might even be willing to die for them.

He was unlike any god we’d dealt with. For the first time in my life of temptation I actually felt… fear. This one would be the greatest challenge we’d ever had.

 

The next devil assigned to Jesus had shown up at the same moment I was pulled away, but only for the purposes of surveillance. Later he showed me an image of what happened next. Angels. ANGELS. Disgusting.

 

One thing is certain: I’ll be back. There will be another opportunity. I MUST find a way to shake his faith in his Father. That would be everything.

 

I’ll be back.

 

Thanks be to God. Amen.