'The suffering of being no longer able to love.'

Dear Parish Faithful,

At the Liturgy yesterday we heard the Parable of Lazarus and the Rich Man. The rich man's indifference to Lazarus was "costly" indeed, as he found himself in hades following his death, and thus separated from the "bosom of Abraham." Jesus said elsewhere that a simple "cup of water" would be sufficient to display care for those who are suffering from want. Yet, beyond indifference there was a lack of love for a fellow human being who was suffering.

In our Fall Reading Circle, we are discussing The Brothers Karamazov by Fyodor Dostoevsky. One of the main characters in this novel of "metaphysical and moral choices embodied in narrative form," is a Russian monk, the Elder Zosima. In fact, Book VI is entitled "The Russian Monk." And this one of the books we are now preparing to discuss at our next session (November 11). Whatever one may think about the character of the Elder Zosima, I find it rather extraordinary that one of the greatest of novels has such a character at the heart of its religio-philosophical center.

Be that as it may, I would like to share a passage from the Elder Zosima's teaching that Dostoevsky includes in the novel, a body of teaching that is meant to set an "active love" in opposition to the powerfully expressed atheism as articulated by Ivan Karamazov. This particular passage is presented under the heading, "Of Hell, and Hell Fire: A Mystical Discourse." (Dostoevsky was clearly influenced by the teachings of St. Isaac the Syrian in a good part of this discourse). I am sharing this opening paragraph of that section because, as you will read, there are some profound reflections on the parable of Lazarus and the Rich Man. According to the Elder Zosima:

Fathers and teachers, I ask myself: "What is hell?" And I answer thus: "The suffering of being no longer able to love."

Once in infinite existence, measured neither by time nor by space, a certain spiritual being, through his appearance on earth, was granted the ability to say to himself: "I am and I love." Once, once only, he was given a moment of active, living love, and for that he was given earthly life with its times and seasons. And what then? This fortunate being rejected the invaluable gift, did not value it, did not love it, looked upon it with scorn, and was left unmoved by it.

This being, having departed the earth, sees Abraham's bosom, and talks with Abraham, as is shown us in the parable of the rich man and Lazarus, and he beholds paradise, and could rise up to the Lord, but his torment is to precisely rise up to the Lord without having loved, to touch those who loved him - him who disdained their love. For he sees clearly and says to himself:

"Now I have knowledge, and though I thirst to love, there will be no great deed in my love, no sacrifice, for my earthly life is over, and Abraham will not come with a drop of living water... to cool the flame of the thirst for spiritual love that is burning me now, since I have scorned it on earth; life is over, and time will be no more! Though I would gladly give my life for others, it is not possible, for the life I could have sacrificed for love is gone, and there is now an abyss between that life and this existence."

"The suffering of being no longer able to love." What a powerful description of that reality that we call Hell!

Bored By Sin

Dear Parish Faithful,

Today is the Feast of the Meeting of the Lord. And we just completed a wonderful Liturgy with many worshipers present.

However, February 2 is also Groundhog Day. Not a "feast day" on my calendar, I can assure you. Yet, Groundhog Day brings to my mind a film by the very same title, i.e. "Groundhog Day."

I know that many people have seen this film, but I wonder how many realize just how "theological" of a film it actually is, though under the cover of being a romantic comedy. That theological dimension is what struck me probably after more than one viewing.

Some time ago, I wrote a film review of "Groundhog Day" and titled the review "Bored By Sin," which I thought was one of the major themes of the film. Many of you have probably read this review in the past; and it is one of the meditations included in my new book. Yet, for those who have not read it before; or for those who may want to revisit it, I have included it here below. If you have actually seen "Groundhog Day" and would like to share your own comments or understanding of the film, please feel free to do so in the comments panel below. I can assure you that I would be glad to hear back from you.

Fr. Steven

+ + +

'Bored By Sin'

Archpriest Steven C. Kostoff

Perhaps some of you recall the film "Groundhog Day" that goes back to 1991. If not quite a "cult classic" (it was too mainstream for that), it was immensely popular and was subject to multiple viewings and an endless flow of commentary and interpretation. The lead role seemed to be a perfect fit for precisely Bill Murray's type of deadpan and highly ironic sense of humor.

Having enjoyed the film myself, and having seen it a few times, I suggested "Groundhog Day" for our latest Feature Film Festival for the parish, based on some of the themes that I will expand on below. When we watched the film together I believe that it was thoroughly enjoyed by one and all. There was certainly a great deal of laughter!

Yet, the purpose of our watching films together, beyond the social significance of "getting together" as a group, is to find those films that are morally and ethically probing, in addition to their "entertainment value." Movies and movie-going dominates our popular culture, so trying to deepen that experience a bit strikes me as a sound idea. In other words, we try and choose films that will make everyone think. That is the purpose of our post-film discussions.

So why choose a film such as "Groundhog Day," a film described as "zany" and "wacky?" 

Now, there is no doubt that "Groundhog Day" plays as a very effective and highly entertaining romantic comedy. However, this is deceptive for there are layers of meaning underneath that rather well-worn and rather predictable genre. 

How many people are aware of the fact that at least for a few years after its release, "Groundhog Day" was subject to a great deal of philosophical and even theological commentary and interpretation? I recall reading many insightful reviews of this film in some very "high brow" journals. What makes all of that even more intriguing is that the director, Harold Ramis, claims that all of that went beyond his intention in making the film. The creative process can be mysterious.

"Groundhog Day" is essentially a romantic comedy with a real twist. It charts the life of a rather cynical and ambitious Pittsburgh weatherman, Phil Connors, played perfectly by Bill Murray. His self-absorption and unapologetic egoism are of gargantuan proportions. His charm is manipulative and self-serving. As the center of the universe, apparently everyone and everything around him is meant to satisfy his needs and desires. As he admits later in the film, he is a "real jerk." Phil the weatherman is sent to Punxsutawney, PA, in order to cover the groundhog day festivities there. In his mind, it promises to be a boring excursion into small town existence. At one point, he contemptuously calls the local population "hicks." He is accompanied by his TV station's producer, Rita, and cameraman Larry. Obviously, Phil does not want to be there, and can't leave soon enough once his responsibilities are fulfilled. However, a blizzard that he failed to predict, sends him back to the small town for at least one more night. When confronted with the blizzard, he angrily shouts back to the highway patrolman: "I make the weather!" But even he is forced to succumb to the power of nature and back to town he goes.

Yet, Phil wakes up the "next day" only to discover that it is February 2 and groundhog day all over again - exactly, down to every detail. He is now trapped in an inexplicable "time warp" that forces him to relive the same day over and over again, apparently without end - into eternity itself. It is the myth of the "eternal return" but on a daily basis in small town Punxsutawney! It is a living nightmare. The film wisely makes not even the slightest attempt at explaining this new reality. How could it? It simply is, and Phil is helplessly caught in it alone, for the same people that he meets are unaware of his predicament. They remain as static and unchanging as the surrounding environment. 

At first bewildered and frightened, Phil begins to make "adjustments" to his new situation. His "selfish gene" kicks into action. He soon realizes that his newly-achieved "immortality" means that his actions on one day have no consequences for there no longer exists a "tomorrow." There is no one or nothing to answer to. As it plays out in the film, it is something of a lighthearted version of Dostoevsky's aphorism, "if there is no God, then everything is permissible." Phil can now break any conceivable law - civic, social, moral, divine - with total impunity. He can now unleash his hidden passions with no restraint or "anticipatory anxiety." He can "eat, drink, and be merry" without the slightest cost to his well-being - or so it seems to him. The film exploits all of this to wonderful comic effect, and it is hard to dislike Phil in the process, "jerk" that he is. But perhaps our sympathy with Phil is grounded in the "fact" that he is living out some of our own uninspired fantasies. As in: what would you do if you won a billion dollar lottery? Or, what would you do or be like if there were no consequences to your actions?

One of the great insights of our spiritual tradition is that sin - beyond its moral, ethical and spiritually corrupting effect - is ultimately boring. Besides immediate satisfaction it remains a distortion of true life, and instead of yielding an enhanced sense of life - or "living life" as Dostoevsky would call it - sin devolves into an empty caricature of life. It is the negation of life. That is why spiritual death precedes biological death. Repetition is not a relief, but an increase of this intolerable boredom. The passions are insatiable. Sin is thus an existential vacuum that is suffocating in its long-term effects. Unconsciously, or perhaps intuitively, Phil begins to realize this after endless bouts of "wine, women and song." Daily dissipation has worn him out. He embodies the biblical "vanity of vanities." His moral universe is unaware of a "higher reality," so he looks elsewhere for relief.

Although consistently maintaining its comic touch, the film now steers us in a darker direction. Attaining a sort of pseudo-omniscience by being able to predict the daily events around him, and realizing that he cannot die, Phil begins to fancy himself a "god." Not "the God" as he admits, but a "god" nevertheless. There is nothing new left to experience so he turns to suicide. Life is boring, so he will now try death! Phil now explores the many "creative" ways in which a person can commit suicide - from driving trucks over steep cliffs, swan-diving off of tall buildings, or electrocuting himself in the bathtub. This can be interpreted as a grisly form of finding relief to the nightmare quality of having to live out the same day in isolation from a non-comprehending humanity; or the thoroughly desperate attempt to discover some more "kicks" in his morally meandering and meaningless existence.

But what actually "kicks in" at this point of the film is the slow transformation of Phil after he has bottomed-out in the manner described above. The film has a "moral," and I believe that it is effectively realized in a natural and unforced manner that is not merely sentimental or banal keeping in mind the genre and intent of this film. And again, with a lighthearted touch that probably increases its effectiveness. Remembering that this is a romantic comedy, the question becomes: will the guy - or how will the guy - get the girl in the end? Phil has resorted to endless subterfuge in order to seduce Rita the producer. Try as he might, this is the one thing he could not succeed at, regardless of his great advantage of knowing her "inside out" after living out an endless amount of days with her over and over, each one ending with a well-deserved slap to the face as Phil's real intentions become obvious. Rita is quite attractive, but more importantly she is a genuinely "good person" with a pure heart and honest intentions. Within his juvenile universe of a warped moral sensitivity Phil does not understand this.

Yet, something happens within Phil and he begins to radically change by no longer living for himself alone. He somehow breaks through his narcissistic and solipsistic one-person universe. (There is a key scene involving a death in which he realizes that he is not actually a "god"). He discovers the "other," and this discovery is transformative. He beings to live altruistically. In fact, the film can be seen on one level as the transformation of Phil Connors from a "jerk' into a genuine human being. And this will prove to be the way into the heart of Rita. Genuine virtue, as the great saints both taught and realized in their lives, is never boring as long as it does not lapse into formalism and/or moralism. It bears fruit a hundredfold when practiced with patience and the love of the "other" primarily in mind. It is the means of ascending up the ladder of divine ascent, as St. Klimakos demonstrated. Virtue is endlessly creative, since it extends and expands our humanity beyond the limits of the self. As Phil will discover, it is also the means of breaking through the meaningless "eternal return" that has taken him down into the inferno and back. But perhaps that is something that you may want to see for yourself.

"Groundhog Day" remains consistent from start to finish. The ending is satisfying and not simply anti-climatic. The screenplay is clever, sharp and humorous, and regardless of its intentions, or lack thereof, raises many genuinely "profound" issues that can be explored and expanded upon. I may have given away too much in my commentary, but I would still recommend it if you haven't seen it before. It is highly entertaining. When we think of such topics as sin, repentance and virtue, the film lends itself to a "Christian interpretation" that is not unduly forced, but rather flows naturally and instinctively from the predicament as conceived and presented. Such discoveries can be rewarding. All in all, a worthwhile film from a variety of perspectives.

Rebuking the Tempter, and Following Jesus

Dear Parish Faithful & Friends in Christ,

Sunday is the Leavetaking of Theophany, the great feast commemorating the Baptism of the Lord and the revelation of the Holy Trinity at the Jordan River. It was His baptism at the hands of the Forerunner that inaugurated the public ministry of Christ – a public ministry that will begin with the words recorded in the Gospels and which continue to reverberate through the centuries to this day with a call and a challenge that is meant to shake all of humanity out of a false sense of complacency and comfort: “Repent, for the Kingdom of Heaven is at hand” (MATT. 4:17). 

According to Christ there is something more than the joys and sorrows that inevitably accompany the natural cycle of life and death. Acknowledging this with thanksgiving, the very pinnacle of our communal worship of God in the Liturgy begins by “blessing” the Kingdom of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit in the opening doxology. Yet, before these powerful words are uttered in the Gospels; and before the Lord will begin His ministry of demonstrating the Kingdom of Heaven’s presence through His words and deeds culminating in the Cross and Resurrection; there is an event of tremendous significance that further prepares Christ for His messianic ministry: The Temptation/Testing in the Wilderness (MATT. 4:1-11; MK. 1:12-13; LK. 4:1-13). 

The nuances of the Greek word behind this event allows us to think in terms of “temptation” or “testing.” Perhaps we could say that Christ was tested when God allowed Him to be tempted by the devil. Either way – or with a combination of both terms – the forty days spent by Jesus in the wilderness will shape Him and His ministry to Israel and to the world by defining an image of the Messiah that He will reject and one that He will embrace.

It is highly significant that it is the Spirit who “led” Jesus “into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil” (MATT. 4:1). Nothing in the life of Christ is accidental. In all things He is led by His heavenly Father acting through the Holy Spirit, including this “face-to-face” encounter with the evil one. 

The austere and unsettling figure of the Grand Inquisitor of Dostoevsky’s famous Legend embedded in his masterpiece The Brothers Karamazov, refers to the devil as “the dread and intelligent spirit, the spirit of self-destruction and non-being.” It is this dread spirit who will tempt Christ through the three questions that will test the fidelity of Christ to His unique messianic vocation as willed by His heavenly Father. 

Dostoevsky, through the tragic figure of the Grand Inquisitor, further reveals the power and non-human source of these powerful temptations, when the Inquisitor says in his monologue: 

“By the questions alone, simply by the miracle of their appearance, one can see that one is dealing with a mind not human and transient but eternal and absolute. For in these three questions all of subsequent human history is as if brought together into a single whole and foretold; three images are revealed that will take in all the insoluble historical contradictions of human nature over all the earth.” 

In other words, these three temptations were not “invented” or “made up” by the evangelists for dramatic effect. The very “perfection” of the temptations posed by the devil reveal their veracity.

And what are these three temptations? According to St. Matthew’s account, they begin with the following as Jesus is fasting and experiencing hunger in the wilderness: “And the tempter came and said to him, ‘If you are the Son of God, command these stones to become loaves of bread’.” 

This was followed by the second temptation to test God’s fidelity to Him after the devil “took him to the holy city, and set him on the pinnacle of the temple, and said to him, ‘If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down; for it is written, ‘He will give his angels charge of you,’ and ‘On their hands they will bear you up, less you strike your foot against a stone’.”  

The final temptation was grandiose and sweeping in its scope: 

“Again, the devil took him to a very high mountain, and showed him all the kingdoms of the world and the glory of them; and he said to him, ‘All these I will give you, if you will fall down and worship me’.” 

In Dostoevsky’s particular and profound interpretation of Christ’s encounter with the tempter in the wilderness, Jesus refuses to receive obedience through miracle, mystery and authority as represented in these three tantalizing temptations. By compelling human beings to believe in Him by overwhelming them with the miraculous; by exploiting a sense of mystery to attract human beings to follow him; and by appealing to the human need for security through external authority; Christ would have accepted and approved of a distorted understanding of human nature. 

In Dostoevsky’s understanding of Christ, as attainable as these “powers” may be for the Son of God, each one in its own way violates the gift of human freedom given to us by God and appealed to by Christ. It is for this very reason that Christ did not come down from the Cross as He was “tempted” to do by those who mocked Him. Even if freedom is a burden as well as a gift, it is the true vision of humanity created “in the image and likeness of God.” We, in turn, freely choose to follow Christ, the crucified “Lord of glory.”

Dostoevsky had his particular concerns when he resorted to the temptation in the wilderness to dramatize the dialectics of human freedom and coercion in an unforgettable manner in The Brothers Karamazov. Within the context of the Gospels, we can say that Christ had to overcome the temptation to be a particular kind of Messiah that was not in accord with the will of God. He was not declared to be His Father’s “beloved Son” at the Jordan River so as to be a militant Messiah who ruled through power. The words of God the Father at the Jordan were clear echoes from the Suffering Servant songs from the prophet Isaiah. And the Suffering Servant would heal us by His “stripes.” His very suffering would be redemptive. And therefore that suffering (on the Cross) was essential to the divine economy. 

To overcome such temptations as man, the Lord resorted to prayer and fasting in the wilderness – the spiritual weapons given to us all in the Church for precisely the same purpose in the “wilderness” of a fallen world: to strengthen the “inner man” against false and pretentious promises. We can accomplish this by relying on “every word that proceeds from the mouth of God” (DEUT. 8:3). We further heed the words, “You shall not tempt the Lord your God” (DEUT. 6:16). And we also follow Christ who reminded us: “You shall worship the Lord your God and him only shall you serve” (DEUT. 6:13). 

Christ refuted the evil one’s false counsel by the power of the scriptural word. 

Another clear lesson for us in our relationship with the Holy Scriptures. As the “root” of a new humanity, Jesus re-enacts the history of Israel, but He “passes” the type of test that Israel “failed” to pass in its earlier forty-year wanderings in the wilderness. In fact, as the New and Last Adam He reverses the effects of Adam’s disobedience through His faithful obedience to the Father. 

It may sound startling to us today, but Jesus was “perfected” precisely through obedience!

Our human will was healed by the human will that the Son of God assumed and united to His divine will in the Incarnation. Before the Garden of Gethsemane, the perfect expression of that healing through obedience may just be the temptation/testing in the wilderness. 

As the final temptation was beaten back by Christ, He was able to say to the tempter: “Begone, Satan!” Our goal is to be able to rebuke the tempter with the same words when we are also tempted/tested – perhaps on a daily basis!

Glory to God for Autumn

Dear Parish Faithful & Friends in Christ,

(Here is an older meditation from over a decade ago. I thought to bring it back to life in case anyone would be interested in something that deals with the season of Fall that begins today).

Glory to God for Autumn

Fall officially begins at 4:02 p.m. (East Coast time) on Friday, September 22.  And that means later today. From my personal—and, admittedly, “subjective”—perspective, there is nothing quite like the fall among the four seasons.  For me, one of this season’s greatest attractions is found in the flaming red, orange, yellow and golden leaves that transform familiar trees into a series of neighborhood “burning bushes,” each one seemingly brighter than the other.  When combined with a piercing blue sky on a sunlit day and a certain crispness in the air, I find myself more vividly aware of the surrounding world and thankful for God’s creation.

On a somewhat more “philosophical note”—more apt to emerge, perhaps, on an overcast, windswept day—we may realize that this “colorful death” signals the fleeting nature of everything beautiful in this world, “for the form of this world is passing away” [1 Corinthians 7:31].  And yet this very beauty, and the sense of yearning that accompanies it, is a sign of the beauty ineffable of the coming Kingdom of God and our restless desire to behold and experience that beauty.

Growing up on a typical city block in Detroit, I distinctly recall a neighborhood “ritual” that marked this particular season:  the raking and burning of leaves that went on up and down the entire block once most of the leaves had spiraled and floated to the ground.  Everyone on the block raked the leaves down toward the street and into neatly formed mounds of color that rested alongside the curb.  Then they were lit and the task of raking now became that of tending and overseeing the piles of burning leaves.  This usually occurred after dinner for most families, but one could still see the shimmering waves of heat that protected one from the early evening chill and the ascending ashes rushing upward. Please momentarily forgive my politically incorrect indifference to the environment, but I thoroughly enjoyed those small bonfires near the curb as the pungent smell of burning leaves filled the air.  This unmistakable smell would, as I recall, linger in the air for a couple of weeks or more as different neighbors got to the task at different times.

The entire scene embodied the wholesomeness of a 1950s first-grade reading primer, as “Mom” and “Dad,” together with “Dick” and “Jane” (and perhaps “Spot,” the frisky family dog) smilingly cooperated in this joint, familial enterprise.  The reading primer would reformulate this “celebration” of healthy work and a neatly ordered environment into a staccato of minimally-complex sentences:  “See Dad rake;” “Dick and Jane are raking too;” “Here comes mom!”  This all served to increase the budding student’s vocabulary while reinforcing a picture of an idealized—if not idyllic—American way of life.

Since my parents were peasants from a Macedonian village, we never quite fit into that particular mold—especially when my mother would speak to me in Macedonian in front of my friends!  And yet I distinctly remember teaching my illiterate mother to read from those very “Dick and Jane” primers so that she could obtain her American citizenship papers, which she proudly accomplished in due time.

Before getting too nostalgic, however, I will remind you that this wholesome way of life - something of an urban idyll - was taking place at the height of Cold War anxiety. This, in turn, evokes another clear memory from my youth:  the air-raid drills in our schools that were meant to prepare us and protect us from a Soviet nuclear strike.  (Khrushchev’s shoe-pounding exhibition at the United Nations, together with his ominous “We will bury you!” captured the whole mood of this period.)  These carefully-executed air-raid drills were carried out with due solemnity and seriousness—lines straight and no talking allowed!  We would wind our way down into a fairly elaborate—if not labyrinthine—series of basement levels that were seemingly constructed, and thus burdened, with the hopeless task of saving us from nuclear bombs!  We would then sit in neatly formed rows monitored by our teachers, and apparently oblivious to the real dangers of the Cold War world, until the “all clear” signal was given, allowing us to file back to our classrooms.  Thus did the specter of the mushroom cloud darken the sunny skies of “Dick” and “Jane’s” age of innocence.

I must acknowledge that my short nostalgic digression does not offer a great deal for reflection.  So as not to entirely frustrate that purpose—and because I began with some brief reflections on the created world—I would like to offer some of the wonderful praises of the beauty of the world around us from the remarkable Akathistos Hymn, “Glory to God for All Things.”

This hymn, which has become quite popular in many Orthodox parishes, was said to have been composed by an Orthodox priest when he was slowly perishing in a Soviet prison camp in 1940.  In unscientific, yet theological-poetic imagery, he reminds us of what we are often blind to:  God’s glorious creation.  Would he have “missed” all of this if his life was as free as ours are to be preoccupied with daily concerns and cares that leave no time or room to look around in wonder?

O Lord, how lovely it is to be Your guest.  Breeze full of scents; mountains reaching to the skies; waters like boundless mirrors, reflecting the sun’s golden rays and the scudding clouds.  All nature murmurs mysteriously, breathing the depth of tenderness.  Birds and beasts of the forest bear the imprint of Your love.  Blessed are you, mother earth, in your fleeting loveliness, which wakens our yearning for happiness that will last forever.  In the land where, amid beauty that grows not old, rings out the cry:  Alleluia! [Kontakion 2]

You have brought me into life as if into an enchanted paradise.  We have seen the sky like a chalice of deepest blue, where in the azure heights the birds are singing.  We have listened to the soothing murmur of the forest and the melodious music of the streams.  We have tasted fruit of fine flavor and the sweet-scented honey.  We can live very well on Your earth.  It is a pleasure to be Your guest.  [Ikos 2]

I see Your heavens resplendent with stars.  How glorious You are, radiant with light!  Eternity watches me by the rays of the distant stars.  I am small, insignificant, but the Lord is at my side.  Your right arm guides me wherever I go. [Ikos 5]

Brings to mind Dostoevsky’s enigmatic phrase:  “Beauty will save the world.”

The Three Temptations of Christ

Dear Parish Faithful & Friends in Christ,

On January 6, we celebrated the Great Feast of Theophany, on which we commemorated the Baptism of the Lord and the revelation of the Holy Trinity at the Jordan River.  It is this open manifestation of God that accords this feast the name “Theophany” and not the Nativity of Christ.  For, as Saint John Chrysostom says, 

"Why, then, is this day called Theophany?  Because Christ made Himself known to all – not then when He was born – but then when He was baptized.  Until this time He was not known to the people.”  

It was His baptism at the hands of the Forerunner that inaugurated the public ministry of Christ – a public ministry that will begin with the words recorded in the Gospels that continue to reverberate through the centuries to this day with a call and a challenge that is meant to shake all of humanity out of a false sense of complacency and comfort:  “Repent, for the Kingdom of Heaven is at hand” (Matthew 4:17).

According to Christ, there is something more than the joys and sorrows that inevitably accompany the natural cycle of life and death.  Acknowledging this with thanksgiving, the very pinnacle of our communal worship of God in the Liturgy begins by “blessing” the Kingdom of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit in the opening doxology. 

Yet, before these powerful words are uttered in the Gospels—and before the Lord begins His ministry of demonstrating the Kingdom of Heaven’s presence through His words and deeds, culminating in the Cross and Resurrection—there is an event of tremendous significance that further prepares Christ for His messianic ministry:  The Temptation/Testing in the Wilderness (Matthew 4:1-11; Mark 1:12-13; and Luke 4:1-13).  

The nuances of the Greek word behind this event allows us to think in terms of “temptation” or “testing.”  Perhaps we could say that Christ was tested when He was led to be tempted by the devil. Either way – or with a combination of both terms – the 40 days spent by Jesus in the wilderness will shape Him and His ministry to Israel and to the world by defining an image of the Messiah that He will reject and one that He will embrace. 

It is highly significant that it is the Spirit who “led” Jesus “into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil” (Matthew 4:1).  Nothing in the life of Christ is accidental.  In all things, He is led by His heavenly Father, acting through the Holy Spirit, including this “face-to-face” encounter with the evil one.

The austere and unsettling figure of the Grand Inquisitor of Dostoevsky’s famous Legend embedded in his masterpiece, The Brothers Karamazov, refers to the devil as “the dread and intelligent spirit, the spirit of self-destruction and non-being.”  It is this dread spirit who will tempt Christ through the three questions that will test the fidelity of Christ to His unique messianic vocation as willed by His heavenly Father.  

Dostoevsky, through the tragic figure of the Grand Inquisitor, further reveals the power and non-human source of these powerful temptations, when the Inquisitor says in his monologue:

“By the questions alone, simply by the miracle of their appearance, on can see that one is dealing with a mind not human and transient but eternal and absolute.  For in these three questions all of subsequent human history is as if brought together into a single whole and foretold; three images are revealed that will take in all the insoluble historical contradictions of human nature over all the earth.”  

In other words, these three temptations were not “invented” or “made up” by the evangelists for dramatic effect.  The very “perfection” of the temptations posed by the devil reveal their veracity.

And what are these three temptations?

According to Saint Matthew’s account (4:1-11), they begin with the following, as Jesus in fasting and experiencing hunger in the wilderness:  “And the tempter came and said to him, ‘If you are the Son of God, command these stones to become loaves of bread.’”  

This was followed by the second temptation to test God’s fidelity to Him after the devil “took Him to the holy city, and set him on the pinnacle of the temple, and said to Him, ‘If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down; for it is written, ‘He will give his angels charge of you,’ and ‘On their hands they will bear you up, less you strike your foot against a stone.’”  

The final temptation was grandiose and sweeping in its scope:  “Again, the devil took Him to a very high mountain, and showed Him all the kingdoms of the world and the glory of them; and he said to Him, ‘All these I will give you, if you will fall down and worship me.’”

In Dostoevsky’s particular and profound interpretation of Christ’s encounter with the tempter in the wilderness, Jesus refuses to receive obedience through miracle, mystery and authority as represented in these three tantalizing temptations.  By compelling human beings to believe in Him by overwhelming them with the miraculous; by exploiting a sense of mystery to attract human beings to follow him; and by appealing to the human need for security through external authority, Christ would have accepted and approved of a distorted understanding of human nature.  

In Dostoevsky’s understanding of Christ, as attainable as these “powers” may be for the Son of God, each one in its own way violates the gift of human freedom given to us by God and appealed to by Christ.  It is for this very reason that Christ did not come down from the Cross as He was “tempted” to do by those who mocked Him.  Even if freedom is a burden as well as a gift, it is the true vision of humanity created “in the image and likeness of God.”  We, in turn, freely choose to follow Christ, the crucified “Lord of glory.”

Dostoevsky had his particular concerns when he resorted to the temptation in the wilderness to dramatize the dialectics of human freedom and coercion in an unforgettable manner in The Brothers Karamazov.  Within the context of the Gospels, we can say that Christ had to overcome the temptation to be a particular kind of Messiah that was not in accord with the will of God.  

He was not declared to be His Father’s “beloved Son” at the Jordan River so as to be a militant Messiah who ruled through power.  The words of God the Father at the Jordan clearly echoed the Suffering Servant songs from the prophet Isaiah.  And the Suffering Servant would heal us by His “stripes.”  His very suffering would be redemptive.  And therefore that suffering (on the Cross) was essential to the divine economy.  

To overcome such temptations as man, the Lord resorted to prayer and fasting in the wilderness – the spiritual weapons given to all of us in the Church for precisely the same purpose in the “wilderness” of a fallen world:  to strengthen the “inner man” against false and pretentious promises.  

We can accomplish this by relying on “every word that proceeds from the mouth of God” (Deuteronomy 8:3).  We further heed the words, “You shall not tempt the Lord your God” (Deuteronomy 6:16).  And we also follow Christ who reminded us, “You shall worship the Lord your God and Him only shall you serve” (Deuteronomy 6:13).

Christ refuted the evil one’s false counsel by the power of the scriptural word—another clear lesson for us in our relationship with the Holy Scriptures.  As the “root” of a new humanity, Jesus reenacts the history of Israel, but He “passes” the type of test that Israel “failed” to pass in its earlier 40-year wanderings in the wilderness.  In fact, as the New and Last Adam, He reverses the effects of Adam’s disobedience through His faithful obedience to the Father. It may sound startling to us today, but Jesus was “perfected” precisely through obedience!

Our human will was healed by the human will that the Son of God assumed and united to His divine will in the Incarnation.  Before the Garden of Gethsemane, the perfect expression of that healing through obedience may just be the temptation/testing in the wilderness.  As the final temptation was beaten back by Christ, He was able to say to the tempter. “Begone, Satan!”  Our goal is to be able to rebuke the tempter with the same words when we too are tempted/tested – perhaps on a daily basis.