Much of the Christian community is now observing the season of Lent: 40 days of preparation before the coming of Easter Sunday and the Celebration of the Resurrection. Lent began on Ash Wednesday (Mar. 5, this year) and runs to Easter Eve (Apr. 19).
On the first Sunday in Lent, many church goers heard the story that is the basis for the observance: Jesus fasting and temptation by the Devil. This year, the reading came from Luke’s Gospel (4: 1-13). Jesus spends 40 days in the wilderness after his baptism by John. During this time he is tempted by the Devil three times:
First: “‘If you are the Son of God, command this stone to become bread.’”
Second: “He took him up and showed him all the kingdoms of the world in a single instant. The devil said to him, ‘I shall give to you all this power and glory; for it has been handed over to me, and I may give it to whomever I wish. All this will be yours, if you worship me.’”
And third: “Then he led him to Jerusalem, made him stand on the parapet of the temple, and said to him, ‘If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down from here, for it is written:
He will command his angels concerning you, to guard you,
and:
With their hands they will support you, lest you dash your foot against a stone.’”
Of course, Jesus refused all three.
I have come to view these temptations as the three that, when taken to the extreme as the Devil presents, bring forth the most damage to us and those around us.
First, the pursuit of wealth: “Command this stone to become bread.” After all, if you can pull off that trick, why not make gold, or any other sort of riches. Your own Midas touch. We all know how that worked out for Midas. We often hear, “Money is the root of all evil,” when the actual biblical quote is, “The love of money is the root of all evil.” Obsession with wealth can be a terrible trap, with no ultimate goal that can be achieved.
This is epitomized in a citation attributed to John D. Rockefeller. According to popular attribution, Rockefeller, when asked “How much money is enough?” famously replied, “Just a little bit more.” Pursuit of wealth, far from bringing happiness, can destroy families and cause people to lose touch with the cares and concerns of the world around them, because all that matters is getting “just a little bit more.”
Then there’s power: “I shall give to you all this power and glory.” The famous quote “power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely” is attributed to John Emerich Edward Dalberg-Acton, 1st Baron Acton, an English historian, politician, and writer. This has been shown to be true throughout history, but can happen even on a smaller scale. Neuroscientists have found evidence to suggest feeling powerful dampens a part of our brain that helps with empathy. Even the smallest dose of power can change a person.
And finally, Immortality: “If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down from here.” Throw caution to the wind. Do whatever you want. Often, we attribute this attitude to foolish young people who act carelessly or recklessly, sometimes with disastrous results. But the quest for immortality drives many of us in different ways: The need to leave a legacy; the belief that you are needed because no one else can do it; or the belief that you are so important that it would be unthinkable not to continue in your leadership role — even as your talents begin to wane.
The insidiousness of all three of these is how they can come upon us almost unnoticed.
We just want to get ahead, so our instinct is to keep accumulating markers of wealth. A nicer home. An RV. A vacation home. Our own company. A bigger company. And on and on it goes. We never think of ourselves as falling into a trap of always needing “a little bit more.”
Or we seek more power. Rise higher in the corporate ranks. Have more people answering to us, obeying our every whim and fancy — believing that if we are successful, everyone else is successful, while we build our success on the backs of all those others.
Or we want to live forever. If not physically in body, at least prominently in name and image. A statue. A building named after is. A museum wing, college chair, city park, whatever it might be. There is always one more thing we must achieve to firmly place our mark in history for all eternity.
I see these tendencies in myself. I mean, do I write these columns so that 100 years from now, some Ph.D. student researching religious journalism in Jefferson County in the mid-2020s might discover my writings and be amazed, ensuring my musings new life? I recently went back to work half time because, after five years of retirement, finances just weren’t quite where I thought they would be ($6 and counting for a dozen eggs?). We aren’t hurting terribly, but somehow, I feel the need for “a little bit more.” And as a deacon in the Episcopal Church, well, let’s admit it: Most pastors have a bit of a power complex, and many are autocratic about how they serve in their congregation.
It’s all around us.
These temptations blind us to our need for self-awareness, seeing what we are doing for what it really is, and how it affects those around us. Sometimes we just need a wake-up call.
I am reminded of the scene near the end of the movie “The Bridge on the River Kwai,” when Alec Guiness’s character suddenly discovers that the bridge he so proudly built for the enemy was actually something he now needed to destroy. In his moment of realization, he says, “What have I done?” He got his wake-up call.
Lent can be a time of personal reflection, when we look at who and what we are, pray for objectivity, and try to find ways to achieve positive change. Temptation is out there, but so is the path to resistance, to a change in course that will make life better for those around us, and for us personally as well. But we have to be able to see it.
Roger Reynolds, a Jefferson City resident, is an ordained Episcopalian deacon.
