The Temptation of Christ

Sympathy for the Devil

The Fates spun their thread, and here was the spindle. Necessity had made it so. From the long ago, in the ages of ages, when all the loose threads were gathered and brought to a single point it was known that they might break. Eight planets. Wanderers. Worlds. From Mercury to Neptune the gods held their breath and the crystal spheres did shudder. Now was the moment of choice. A choice made full and fully free. All the stars did wonder…

Did wonder to see what Fate might be.

A man sat on a rock.

He was lonely. He was tired. The skin of his body was browned from the desert sun and it pulled taunt against the bone as if in preparation for the tanner. All his ribs were visible.

The man’s tunic, rough and threadbare from weeks in the wilderness, was now little more than a loin cloth and it clung to his body from a single shoulder. His hair was long, matted, and beneath it both of the man’s eyes were sunken into his skull. Shoulder blades and collar bones stood pronounced and well defined beneath his flesh, the curved contours of each plainly visible. His mouth was parched. Lips cracked and dry. All around him the world stood indifferent to his suffering. Brown dirt. Stones. Sand and scorpions. And though he prayed, for all intents and purposes God had long since abandoned him. It had to be that way. He could have no one to help him. No angel, no guide. Were it not so the choice he was to make would not be his. It would not count. The choice had to be his and his alone. Forty days he had been without food. The Man hungered.

So it was that the Devil came.

The Devil and a Man beneath the noonday sun.

“I think you get it now.”

The spirit was there and he wasn’t. The man could here him, clearly. But… not with his ears. No form appeared before his eyes nor was there any visage in the air. It was instead a subtle thing. A quiet thing. A still small voice that stood perhaps in mockery of another and the man could not quite be certain that the voice was not his own. The voice made sense… and that almost caused fear to rise in him.

He was hungry.

The voice had never made sense before.

“You know, up there… things are different. It’s easy to be idealistic. Black and white. To think in terms of thou shalt and thou shalt nots. I get why He does it. I do. But, well, down here it just doesn’t work like that. Does it? I mean, it’s fine to know everything and be omniscient and all but, things just hit different when you experience them first hand. Don’t they? The rose tinted glasses lose a bit of their luster when its your ass going through the ringer. And suddenly, rationally, you see that what He wanted was never really possible. On paper, sure. Everything works on paper. In practice…

Well…

In practice hunger’s a bitch.”

The man’s belly twisted. Deep within his abdomen his guts cramped and spasmed with dehydration. Water was scant in the desert and he had not drunk his fill in weeks. His head began to swim and he felt dizzy and the voice’s words were strangely sweet like honey. Warm. Slightly intoxicating.

Or… perhaps that was merely the lack of sleep.

“And that’s what He never understood. Do you see? Do you get it now? He never knew what it felt like to be less than perfect. And when he demanded his perfection of creatures that clearly did not share it… well, the whole project was destined for misery. Square peg. Round hole. All His commandments ever accomplished was to make others feel guilty. Shameful and sad. There was never an ounce of hope that they could meet his standards. He made people imperfect… and then gave them a guilt trip about being so. Not his fault really. Like I say, I’m not blaming anybody here. He just… didn’t know.”

In a strange, immaterial way, the Man felt certain the voice smiled.

“But now you do."

It laughed gently.

“And, hey… now He does too. Right? And so you have to see now that I never meant any harm. Truly I didn’t. It’s just… well… it’s really all just been one big misunderstanding. Not that I hold a grudge or anything. It has been painful, yes, but, I know we’re all just doing our best. I had to make them like gods, do you understand? I had to. For their own good. They had to take the knowledge of good and evil for themselves because there was no other way for them to be happy. His standard was too high and they had to be able to make their own. A different standard. One they could live up too. I’m not proud of how it all went down but, well, can’t make an omelet and all that. Hindsight is twenty-twenty. In the heat of the moment mistakes are always made.

I loved them.

Do you see?

And I loved Him too.

I did what had to be done. What no one else was willing to do. Do you think I wanted all that? The death and the disease and the wars? No. Not I said the little red hen. I just knew in my heart I could be a better father to them than He was and history has proved me right. What? Would you make them immortal? That is simply pulling a thread too thin. They aren’t cut out for it. After seventy or eighty years they begin to despise life. To hate it. To regret it. The way I’ve made it they get to have their fun and then they shuffle off. Back to the dirt from which they came. And what does He get? He gets to be merciful! To play the good guy. He gets to pretend that this whole sorry affair isn’t all his fault.

Did I make the universe?”

Somehow the disembodied voice smirked.

“Did I make me?

No. I didn’t. A leopard can’t change his spots and an Ethiopian can’t change his skin. I’m just doing what He made me for. Right? After all, He knew how this would all go down. None of this is a surprise. Is that not so? Before the foundation of the world he saw you, here, right now, sunburned and starving and maybe wishing just a little that death would come and take away your pain. He willed this. He wanted it. He wanted it for you. He wanted suffering… for you.”

The voice sighed. The Man was suddenly aware of a subtle shift in his environment. The heat of the sun still blazed down upon his shoulders but it was somehow darker now. Somehow less… real. The edges of things had lost their focus and before him all the colors of the desert had blended into a soft dull grey. The Man’s own breath seemed far from him, and he heard it as though it was someone else’s, the periodic inhalation and exhalation seeming to come from behind his own head. His heart was beating. Irregularly. Beneath his skin he felt a tingling. A crawling. Something like worms.

“That’s what he’s always wanted. What he’s always wanted for everybody. Suffering. He’s just not been Man enough to admit it. And so here I am Son of Man. Ha! Right here. Just the way He made me. Me. An angel. His angel. Reduced to an accuser. A satan.

Well…

It’s what He wanted.”

The Man felt the spirit bow before him. It bowed low, and the Man felt as though its hand swept the ground as it did, as if in prostration before a king.

“Thy will be done.” The voice said. It paused and it looked at him. Somehow…. it looked at him.

“I will be your Satan.” The voice nodded. “I will accuse.”

Before the Man’s eyes and hand took shape in the dull grey air. Aethereal and translucent yes… but a hand all the same. Bony. Long fingered and with skin as pale as moonbeams.

It pointed at him.

“This… all of this… is your fault.”

The hand vanished.

“You know it. I know it. He knows it. That’s why we’ve got to hang you from a tree. Because it’s your fault. You’re on the hook for this. All the pain. All the suffering. Every man that ever got sick, every woman ever raped, every baby that ever breathed its last within its howling mother’s arms. You did it.”

The voice grew more aggressive.

“You did it! YOU!”

Then it snickered.

“And damn you for it. For my pain and for theirs. You messed up. You should never have made this God-forsaken place and we are right to hate you for it. We are justified. I am justified. You asked more of your creation than it could give. More of me than I could give.

And that… well, that’s on you.”

A deep and mournful sigh resonated in the air around him, and the Man was alone. More alone than anyone had ever been since Adam. The desert had receded. It was there but also it wasn’t and everything, even his own body, seemed to exist in a dream. For a moment he thought perhaps he had died. That perhaps his fast had been more extreme than he had reckoned. Of course, this was impossible but… he was human… and humans have stray thoughts. Before him now came images. Visions. The poor and the needy. The starving. Desperate children appeared, images from his past walking dusty Palestinian streets. They begged with swollen bellies, hands outstretched for a morsel, a crumb of bread. Their mothers would sell them soon when they were big enough. The boys as slaves, the girls as prostitutes. The markets of the Roman empire would not be kind to them and many would travel far upon its roads. They would be beaten, they would be raped, they would be killed.

“But they will be fed.” The voice spoke again, as if knowing what images danced in the Man’s head.

“That’s the compromise. That’s what I have done. All the kingdoms of the world, all its systems, its rulers and its rules. I made that. I did it. I fixed it. I fixed what He had made. It is a patchwork solution, to be sure… but it does feed them. And isn’t that more than they can expect from Him? See I knew what they needed. I knew what they were like. He wanted to purge all their greed and lust and hatred and anger out of them before he helped them. Wanted them to be pure.” The voice scoffed. “Impossible. I took those misshapen souls as they were and turned their vices into virtues. Their ambitions, their fears, their lusts and aggression. By my alchemy I transmuted all that into civilizations. I didn’t ask them to change. I simply… helped them. As they were. And now the fear of starvation is turned into fuel to push the plow. The hatred of their brother focused onto the whip that drives the slave to build. The lusts of the flesh transformed as if by magic into trade and commerce. I have done this. Me. I have done all these things and now I do rightly call them my children.”

The voice paused.

“And… they do rightly love me. I am a better father to them than He is, for I am the only one that understands them.”

Before the Man now a shape materialized. A form. In the dim nether of the off-white desert the shape of man began to appear. Tall. Pale. He was beautiful and glowing, like a manifestation of Phoebus or Apollo worshiped in the pagan temples. His features were soft but also sharp, as though the noble countenance of an eagle had been made human. Indeed, it seemed as though this man had wings, for feathered pinions plumed behind his back in brilliant reds and greens. Blue eyes looked at the Man beneath a mop of golden hair and the creature sat on a stone opposite the Man, a look of deep compassion on his face.

“Or… at least I was.” The angel smiled. “But,” it’s head cocked playfully to the side, “not anymore. Now I think you understand them too. God… has been humbled. Brought down to Earth. Brought into blood and bone. And now you get it. You understand. Pain. Suffering. They’re not abstractions anymore are they? Not just concepts in an omnipresent brain.”

The Man’s stomach suddenly gurgled loudly and the angel’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“As I said… hits different down here, doesn’t it? But here’s the thing. You can make it all better. We can make it all better. You messed up. You didn’t know. You couldn’t fathom how it would feel to be, what’s the word… limited. How it would feel to pick and to choose and to act under constant threat of pain and suffering and death. How could you have!? How could anyone!? Given the circumstances what you did is almost excusable. It was a good idea. It was. It just soured a bit, that’s all.”

The angel leaned forward with his hands on his knees and looked deep into the Man’s eyes.

“But we can fix it. Look. I know you just want to help them. To save them. I get it. That’s all I want to and believe you me I know that’s all He wants. But his plan won’t work. He overestimates them. I tell you truly your name will mean nothing ten minutes after your dead. You think anyone will care? Do you think your message won’t be bastardized the moment you leave? Your sacrifice… if we can call it that… may save a handful, sure. Everyone else? Well let’s just say I know them well and have no cause to be hopeful. I have seen the future as well as you… and we both know how little of a damn they’re gonna give. Your own friends will betray you. Your own family. And let me tell you they will be right to do it. They’ll be right.”

As he said this, for just an instant, the lips of the speaker snarled.

“Because it’s just the same old offer. Isn’t it? At the end of the day, every sermon is the same: ‘Dear people, please be good.’ But they can’t be good. They can’t be perfect. They can’t be what He wants them to be.”

The creature with blonde hair opened his hands and displayed his palms to the man.

“But they can be what I want them to be.”

It smiled.

“And I want them to be happy. To live their short sorrowful lives that He has cursed them with in as much joy as they can. And then? To shuffle off. To go silent, and to decay. And I can do that.

We can do that.”

The creature picked up a round stone about the size of his palm.

“Think of it. All the hungry bellies. Filled. Not another starving child in the whole world. Forever. With your power I mean… every stone here amongst us could be bread. The scarcity of this place would cease. They’d have no reason to fight anymore. Nobody would get sick from malnutrition, mothers wouldn’t have to watch their babies waste away. And of course I don’t want the credit. No. No! Not at all. I know my place. I know that I cannot be their god. I get it. That’s for you. That’s your place. And we will show them that that also. In a way they can’t deny. Why… we’ll go up to the temple and hurl you off of it and let the angels catch you in front of all of them. Then they’ll KNOW. They won’t have to ‘believe’ anymore, they’ll just know. And you’ll have them. Like you always wanted. They’ll be there in your care and listen to whatever you say because you are provably a god. Their God. Their God that feeds them.”

The creature folded his hands together as if in supplication and pointed them at the Man.

“Their God who turns the very worthless stones around their feet to food. Oh and how they will love you. They will. They will love you that I promise.

And isn’t that what you’ve always been after?

Love?

You can have it. Today. Now. Because let me tell you for damn sure you won’t be getting it His way. His way they hate you. They spit on you. They beat you and curse you and two thousand fucking years later they’re still going to ignore you and be the same God-damned people who put you on the tree. They won’t change a bit. Not His way. But my way they will.

Do you not see?

I’m offering you their love.

And their devotion. And their obedience… Do this for me and they will listen when you tell them to stop killing each other. They will actually listen. No more do your words and commandments have to be in vain, they will listen. They will listen! Tell them to only sleep with their wives and they will listen! Tell them to share with the needy and they will listen! Tell them to forgive and they will listen! They will! Because what they need, what they want, will finally have been given to them.

A god that meets their needs.

A visible god. With them. A god in their midst. A god who loves them just as they are and does not ask them to change.

That’s what they want.

It’s what they need.

I am on your side and I want to give you everything you’ve always wanted. All the kingdoms of the world, all the nations, all the peoples, all the tribes, I can give you all of them. United. As one. Finally, at long last, one world. One people. One religion and one creed. An end to bickering and racism and bigotry. An end to all the wars and all the greed. A world that finally… finally… is at peace.

I can give you that.

I can give you that right now.

But you have to do it my way.

That’s the catch. You have to follow me. His way doesn’t work. How many thousands of years do we have to try it before you accept that’s true? He just doesn’t know them like I do… or… like you do. Like you do now. You get it. You understand. Will you do it Jesus?

Will you help me save the world?”

The starving Man stared at his bony hands. “It is written,” he said slowly, “that we ought worship the Father and serve Him only. My Father desires their hearts be converted, not only their bellies full and their obedience assured by worldly gifts. Selfless Love. That’s the standard. Nothing else is worth it.”

“They are not capable of such,” the creature responded.

“We shall see.” The Man answered.

The creature leaned back upon his haunches and slapped his thighs lightly with his palms. “I suppose we shall.” After a brief moment the angel slowly stood and clapped his hands together as if trying to remove invisible dust. It turned as if to leave but stopped midway through the first step. Without turning around it looked back at the Man over its shoulder.

“And, might I ask, are you quite certain you are capable of it? You know what they’re going to do to you. How they will treat you. Is Selfless Love, even that of God, great enough to cover all of that?”

The Man bowed his head. “We shall see.”

The angel clicked his tongue and nodded. “Indeed we will. My offer stands. You may take me up on it at any point. As your dying. Bleeding. Hurting. As they spit at you and call you names. Know I can make it stop at any point and all you have to do is ask. One word. That’s it.”

The Man sighed. “Leave me Satan. I have had enough of you.”

The angel nodded. “As you wish.”

For just a moment, the angel’s beautiful blonde head was replaced by a rotten skull.