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CHAPTER IV The Tempter
He had not eaten for forty days and nights.
His body starved, physically weak, he reclined on the barren earth of the mountainside, under a dead tree by the mouth of the cave where he spent his nights. There were perhaps thousands of these caves in the Judean countryside. His body emaciated, the shape of his bones clearly visible, his bowels had ceased to move and were it not for a cool pool of water recessed in one of the inner corridors of the cave, he would be dead of starvation.
This, indeed, was trial by fire. This was his passage, his initiation into the service of God. At the beginning of a new phase of his life, Jesus had been led by the Holy Spirit to this specific spot. It could not have been much worse. He thought with meager comfort of Elijah sitting outside his cave wondering what would happen to him. At least Elijah had the ravens! Were it not for the coolness of the cave's interior, he might have perished under the burning sun in this desert place.
Dusk and the hours that followed were blessed relief. He lay for hours staring at the stars. As he communed with the Father, he felt a kinship with these stars that none other would ever know. Now in his earthbound human body, of a mere thirty years, in the periphery of his consciousness he was aware that eons ago each celestial body had something to do with him. In this starved condition, his limited spirit now had trouble comprehending exactly what. On these starlit nights he mused until sleep tugged at his eyelids and he felt his undernourished muscles relax against the stone. He then retired into the cave until the soft glow of dawn began to paint its dreary walls.
Each day came and went. Unrelenting hunger wracked his body. He had long passed the days when his stomach became numb to hunger. Its pain had returned with devastating demands. "Just a morsel of my brother's venison!" As he thought about this, painfully bemused, he had a new appreciation for Esau as well as Elijah.
It was then that the tempter came.
Hungry, Son of God?" It was not a disembodied voice that Jesus heard. The question, a mockery. The title a derision, spoken by the source of evil incarnate. A man stood there dressed in expensive robes, serene, intellectual in appearance, and calm. A man who would stand out in a crowd as someone to respect and to whom others gave deference. "If you are the, ah, Son of God, then speak to these stones. Tell them to become bread. Surely God would not object if you took the edge off this insufferable hunger." He spoke in a manner, matter-of-fact, cultured and self-assured. The words were spoken philosophically, detached, yet hanging cold and demeaning. He appeared refined, polished and in command of himself. Not a man with whom one trifles, accustomed to command, accustomed to respect. Jesus, his body trembling, making aching and irresistible demands of him, his mind aware of something hard and unrelenting in the deepest corner of his spirit, considered the man--but without fear. On the surface of it, he was thirty years old--young and inexperienced. This fortyish man had an intimidating presence, a polished, professional, experienced, enormous intellect. Yet there was something within Jesus that reached back in time beyond his years. While his earthly eyes had never seen this man before, he knew him. The memory, however dim; he recalled encountering him. Things were different then. At that time, this man was not a man but what . . ? An authority? It was difficult to remember. Jesus heard himself speak, "You know well that I could command anything I wish. But I am human now, in a body limited by mortality." A very hungry human; a thought he put quickly aside. "Being human does have its constraints, does it not?" The man's lips turned upward, as if to smile, but there was no smile. "Perhaps you need to be reminded," said Jesus, "human that I am, 'Man does not live on bread alone, but on every word that comes from the mouth of God.'" The creature, who looked like a man, seemed amused. He wished to appear tolerant, not insensitive to the younger man's obvious discomfort. There was, however, a flash of calculating cruelty in his eye. "How profound!" He remarked with contempt. "How utterly . . . mystical!" Their transport, something ethereal, transcendent. For in the next instant, they were no longer on the mountain by the cave, but in the city of Jerusalem, standing at the highest point of the Temple. It was no accident that this particular city and this Temple tower were chosen. Jerusalem, the City of God! What better place to discredit his "Son"! The Temple tower, overlooking the Holy of Holies! What better place to desecrate the Holy One! "If you are the Son of God," the man said, "jump. You do know the Scripture, do you not? 'He will command his angels concerning you, and they will lift you up in their hands, so that you will not strike your foot against a stone.' Here in the holy city on the pinnacle of the Temple, could there be a better venue for a divine demonstration? It is only four hundred feet to the ground. Hardly worthy of the Son of God. Come now, show your credentials," On the surface of it, the challenge seemed rational enough. If the words of the psalmist were true, then there was nothing to fear. Clearly, he was the Son of God. But if not, he would die, and of course, the "Son of God" designation would become moot. Jesus answered him with confidence, "I do know the Scripture. And I remind you also of the word, 'Do not put the Lord your God to the test.'" The man was no longer amused. "The Lord my God!? Do you say?" The evil fire in his eye flashed even more brilliantly. He knew then that he would not distract this young man with tricks. He really knows; he really believes that he is . . ? They transported again, this time to the highest mountain. From here, the rim of the world could be seen. The man swept his arm encompassing the curvature of the earth and displayed to Jesus all the realms of the world and their splendor--as far as eye could see. "All this is mine, you know. It was accorded to me and me alone. I will give it to you," he said, "if you will give your allegiance to me, if you confess me to be the Lord your God!" The absurdity of such an offer apparently had never entered the man's mind. How does one offer the Creator that which he already possesses? How does the Creator worship the created? Nonetheless, it was out. The real reason for this encounter. This man, this devil, knew when to strike. Strike at human weakness. Strike at the point of doubt. Sometime during the last forty days, angels could have come. They did not. Why? Had God the Father deserted him? His cheeks had gone sallow. His body had lost substance of tissue and he was dying. Yet, he could not stop himself. He knew that he must suffer these things. But I am, after all, human! But this tempter? And this offer of satiety? Worship this . . . this thing? Then Jesus remembered. This "thing" was one Lucifer, the highest and most noble of all created beings. He, and he alone, was the angel of light. He came to believe that he was the equal, if not the superior, of God himself. And since Jesus had taken upon himself the form of a man, it is not remarkable that this unholy, despicable creature thinks of himself worthy of Jesus' worship. Stronger than the terrible demands of starvation, stronger than his human needs, finding the strength of his integrity, Jesus said to him, "Away from me, Satan! You know, you know what is written: 'Worship the Lord your God, and serve him alone.' Something, I might add, that you seem to have discarded." The man gazed at him with accomplished contempt. And then he was gone. Was there a question left hanging? Were there threatening words somewhere in the churning mists of violent hunger that said, "You will regret this?" Would there be another time of great suffering when he might once again hear the evil mockery, "I gave you a chance in the desert, on the Temple pinnacle and yet again on a mountain high. Now look at you. You were dying then. You are dying now, and this time . . ."
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