Let’s start with the Devil. Also known here as Satan and ‘the Tempter’.

In the Book of Job the Hebrew word śāṭān literally means ‘adversary’. And there, like here in this text, the adversary has a job to do. Namely to give voice to doubts, to destructive desires, to the debilitating shadows we all experience to some degree.

And in this text, the adversary, the Devil, works within the divine purpose and plan of Jesus’ life and mission. Not outside of that plan, or contrary to it.

I tis not difficult though to find across the Bible and other literature, versions of the śāṭān as a sort of anti-God, source and embodiment of cosmic evil - maybe hinted at in apocalyptic literature, but more the product of medieval and other cosmology and fantasy, not least from some fundamentalisms.

Similarly it is not difficult to find across Christian history the misuse of śāṭān as an instrument to apportion blame, to scapegoat, to stoke fear, and excuse all manner of violence. Like the witch trials in Europe (1400-1775), where an estimated 40,000 to 60,000 people were executed. Like the antisemitic pogroms, fuelled by a trope that cast Jews as children of the Devil. Like the hatred and violence towards gay, lesbian, and other Queer people, where their sexuality is labelled ‘a distortion caused by the Devil’.

We must never forget that bad theology, particularly the demonisation of minorities, can be murderous.

Personally I do not believe in a literal devil or śāṭān. Such a character is at best a literary device to talk about wrestling with our conscience, including our doubts, desires, and fears. Or a community doing similarly.

And this passage today from Matthew I would suggest is about the Matthean community wrestling about its purpose and mission, voicing doubts, desires, and fears, and finally repudiating the love of power in favour of the power of love.

One further comment before the triadic temptations. In verse 3 the Tempter says, “If you are the Son of God…”. And then repeats this in verse 6.

‘Son of God’ is not exclusively used for Jesus. Rather it is a title, an honorific, that is used to refer to King David, and Israel as a whole. Notably, the Roman Emperor used this title. The Matthew scholar, Daniel Harrington, points out the issue here is not so much whether Jesus is the Son of God, but what kind of Son of God Jesus will turn out to be.[i] A Son of God like Caesar, or David, or an altogether different ‘Son of God’?

The temptations. There is some comedy in all this. Jesus and Mr Tempter trying to out Bible verse each other. “Scripture says...” says one. “Scripture also says…” says the other. A proof text duel.

The duel underlines the fact that singular Bible verses are not authoritative by themselves. Nor indeed are whole books or (close your Presbyterian ears) the Bible as a whole. In terms of authority, the Bible works in conjunction with the interpretive community (the Church) who draw on tradition, reason, and experience. We, the Church, give the Bible authority. Not God.

The first temptation is the provision of bread, with its resonances to the Book of Exodus. This temptation is about aspiring to be a great leader in the footsteps of Moses, providing for the hungry with manna, and providing for Israel a new law. The irony here is that this is precisely how the rest of the Gospel of Matthew portrays Jesus – feeding the multitudes, giving a new law (the Sermon on the Mount), leading the people into freedom.

And maybe Jesus’ repudiation of this temptation is a message about not seeking to follow in the paths of any great leaders from the past, and thus being constrained by the expectations of such, but walking his own path, doing his own thing, commanding not a great Exodus towards liberation but a rag-tag bunch of losers who believed love was more powerful than the sword.

In short: we need to be careful about wearing the aspirations of others and from our past.

The second temptation is about dangerous acts and seeking angelic help. Skydiving off the Temple without a parachute. Dangerous adrenaline acts that seem to be for highlighting both the bravery of the risk-taker, and the saving power of the Almighty’s minions. Dangerous acts that are like circus stunts for onlookers to applaud. Acts that draw attention. Acts that have little to do with Micah’s (6:8) words: “What does God require of you, but to act justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly…”

Of course, bearing in mind what I said earlier about proof-texting, it’s possible to find biblical examples of warrior leaders, sons of God, engaging in dangerous acts, thinking they are just, ignoring mercy, and lacking in humility. And believing, with or without angels, they’ve been blessed by God.

But Jesus, or rather the Jesus of the Matthean community, was not following the path of popularity and demonstrative power. He was following an altogether different path.

In short: We need to be careful about how we use what power and influence we have, and for what purpose.

The last and climactic temptation is the Caesar moment. Here the Tempter is offering dominion (rule) over all the kingdoms (and queendoms) of the world. Just like Caesar has. For surely this is true power and the true purpose of any Messiah/Son of God. Restoring the glory of Israel and all that and all that. The only catch being you must bow in obedience and service to that-which-is-not-God. You must worship, desire, and accumulate mighty power. And love it. Rather than serve the weak power of love.

There are plenty of leaders today, of churches or in politics, who still quote Scripture, offer material rewards as the pay-off, and suggest God’s promises mean personal or even national glory. Such proposals to misuse power give off only the faintest of odours but threaten to cause all to rot. Evil is more likely to be banal, perhaps closer to common sense than we might think.

This Pānui tahi (First Reading) in the end has a simple message: Jesus is one who subordinates the desire for power to the power of love. And so should we.

++++++

The Pānui Rua (2^nd Reading), taken from my new book is titled ‘Todays Temptations’, though I’m sure there’s many more than what I list. It’s written in the style of couplets with antithetical or synonymous parallelism.

The first two address the modern, and Presbyterian, ailment called ‘busyness’. Or put more positively, when and how do we show our concern, and is action always necessary. Stillness, being centred in stillness, what our forebears might have called prayer, is a corrective to our cultural preoccupation with activity and our need to be useful. It’s about that balance between being and doing.

The third couplet addresses the ailment called ‘success’, and considering the successful blessed, and the unsuccessful failures. In our society we usually measure success in terms of money, status, and acquisitions. Which tips the scale in favour of those who already have gaining more. Whereas, following our first reading, if love – giving it, feeling it, nurturing it – was our primary measure of success, maybe we would all be happier.

The fourth and fifth couplet follow similarly. Again I’m critiquing our cultural assumptions around the alleged moral virtues of health and wealth. Both of which are nice to have. But because one doesn’t enjoy either or both does not mean one is lacking in either morality or happiness.

The sixth couplet is about suffering, and the temptation to get caught by its hooks. Suffering, hospitalization, and the healing process tend to turn us inward, understandably, on ourselves. Which, especially if the suffering is ongoing, can self-focus us, and even snare us. That’s when we need the courage, in spite of ongoing pain or discomfort, to turn our thoughts outward.

The seventh couplet is about love, the privilege of being loved, and the continual cultivation of gratitude for the same. The great heresy of our day(and every day past) is that love has to be earned. It doesn’t. Love at its best is unconditional. And we at our best need to model such unconditionally. Christians call that modelling of unconditional love discipleship.

And lastly a couplet about prayer. Which begins with a little deconstructing. Prayer is not just what we think and say. You’ve heard me on this subject before. Prayer is a whole of our being thing – a stillness, an engagement, a channelling of love to and from us. But, and here I move onto the second part of the couplet, with prayer when we think we’ve arrived, we haven’t.  One of the greatest prayers is simply: “Lord, teach me to pray.” And when we seem to have an answer, and are doing the answer, we will in time find ourselves again praying “Love, teach me to pray.” And when we seem to have an answer, and are doing the answer, we will in time again find ourselves saying “Life, teach me to pray.” And so it goes, and so it goes, as our life goes.

[i]Harrington, Matthew p. 66

‍