Tempted by an Unexpected Evil

A long time ago in a heavenly court far, far away, God made a cosmic wager with the Devil. God was boasting to the Devil of the faithfulness of his servant Job, who was blameless, upright, and turned away from evil. The Devil was unimpressed, believing Job was faithful because God protected him and blessed him with everything he could ever want. The Devil seemed to have found such an arrangement unsatisfactory, believing that God should be praised regardless of his benefits, asking “Does Job fear God for nothing?”

Exchange suffering for blessing — take away Job’s admittedly ridiculous bounty of riches — and he will surely curse God. And so God conceded to the Devil’s gambit and Job was subjected to unspeakable suffering and loss. His sons and daughters were killed, their flocks were taken away by enemies, and Job himself was afflicted with disease. Even still, Job did not curse God, saying, “Naked I came from my mother’s womb, and naked shall I return there; the Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the LORD.” Through all his torment and grief, Job unswervingly maintains his faith in God,[1] and the Devil is ultimately defeated in the wager.

The Devil next appears right at the beginning of Jesus’ ministry. After his baptism by John, Jesus went into the wilderness to pray and fast. Forty days without food, the Devil makes its first move, nudging Jesus to make some bread and break his fast. It then appears to Jesus to tempt him with the opportunity to gain notoriety and acclaim in the heart of Jerusalem. The final temptation goes to the heart of it: the Devil will hand over to Jesus all the kingdoms of the world if Jesus would fall down and worship the evil one.

From the hand of the Devil, Job received grief, skin boils, poverty and (worst of all) judgmental friends. Jesus was offered … bread and worldwide acclaim? The differences couldn’t be more stark — or illuminating. According to the book of Job, evil distributes suffering to those left unsuspectingly unprotected by God. God does not cause suffering, but the devil inflicts death and misery. In Jesus’ temptation, the roles are reversed, with the Devil offering balm to ease Jesus’ self-imposed distress.

It would be fantastical to suggest that the mythical personification of evil that is the Devil somehow learned from his defeat in its wager over Job. Attributing anything to evil that approximates repentance and a change of heart seems a self-defeating explanation. And yet the possibility cannot easily be written off. Between that long time ago in the heavenly court and the start of Jesus’ ministry, it seems the devil has changed its tactics.

Job suffered and yet did not curse God, so maybe the Devil had it the wrong way around? Perhaps humans — including the very human Jesus — could be persuaded with the avoidance of suffering, making evil itself appear benevolent, kind, and even gracious. Exchange blessing for suffering and the Devil will be praised.

The Devil offers Jesus glory without suffering, a way to avoid the pain and alienation of crucifixion. Why suffer needlessly, when everything you want can be had right now? In Luke’s account of Jesus’ temptations, all the kingdoms of the world are shown to him “in a moment in time.” Jesus sees Rome and Persia, London and Beijing, Tikal and New York City. The sufferings he is tempted to avoid are not only his, but that of the entire world. With the simple bending of his knee, Jesus could preempt all wars, lies, betrayals, and death.

The path chosen for and by Jesus inescapably runs through the cross — from Golgotha to the ends of the world. A crucified, suffering God who is worshipped by those who boast in their suffering.

In Lent, one hears a great deal of the disciplines of fasting, prayer, or the fairly trivial sufferings of abstaining from meat or social media for forty days. Of the difficulty of virtue and ease of sin. There’s nothing easy about doing what one is naturally disinclined to do. But the temptations of Jesus add a different lens to the difference between faith and sin, good and evil. For Jesus (and us by extension) evil presents itself as an alternative to suffering, a way to circumvent hardship and achieve what otherwise appears to be harmonious and good.

There was a third century Egyptian monk named Anthony who became famous across the Mediterranean for his piety. Truly, the stuff of legend. He would pray for so long he often neglected to sleep. When he did sleep, he usually did so on the ground. He ate only bread and salt, and drank only water. He worked to buy food, but otherwise had no possessions to call his own.

More than his piety, what is striking about the story of Anthony’s life is how many times he reports being assaulted by the devil. Anthony’s temptations are not like Job’s sufferings at all. Traveling between towns, Anthony would see an expensive silver dish on the side of the road and immediately recognize it as a work of the Devil. Rebuking the Devil, the dish would disappear immediately. Or he would come upon scattered gold coins, marveling at their quantity before running as fast as he could so that he’d forget where he found them. Such temptations happened so often to Anthony, he recounted them as though they were routine (Life of St. Anthony, 12, 40). One might contend that Anthony was unwell, but his trials closely resemble Jesus’ own in ways that should disrupt most notions of evil today. I know that if I found a sack of cash on my walk to the grocery store that I’d be praising God for a solid week afterwards.

When Jesus first told his disciples of his impending death, Peter rebuked Jesus, saying (literally) “Be merciful to yourself, Lord. This will not happen to you” (Mt 16:22). Jesus then answers with the very same words he spoke when tempted in the desert: “Get behind me, Satan!” The parallels between Peter’s advice to Jesus and so many modern advertisements is a little too close for comfort. “Be kind to yourself,” we are told incessantly — which usually means buying yet another unneeded item. Prioritize your own wellbeing first and give yourself some slack. Or perhaps less directly, we might exclaim that “it shouldn’t be this hard,” where the it can be anything from a relationship, to parenting, to the day-to-day grind of being alive.

The temptation of evil is what Martin Luther deemed a theology of glory, appearing in a form that “always seem[s] attractive and good.” This evil is a love without sacrifice, righteousness without confession, new life without death, glory without the grave, victory without struggle — the promise that all you can, in fact, have it all for free. In his final hours, Jesus prayed that his cup of suffering might pass from him. It was, however, the only way; suffering cannot be avoided. Love is only love when there’s sacrifice. Life is only found after death. Unending joy after momentary affliction.