The Devil Did Not Make You Do It

Today's readings: Psalms 42; 146; Genesis 3:1-24; Hebrews 2:1-10; John 1:19-28

Temptation is a tricky devil. We tend to speak about it as though it lives outside of us. Though most people are speaking metaphorically when they say "The Devil made me do it!" the sentiment behind the phrase is fairly common. We don't like admitting our darker desires might originate in our own minds and hearts. It's convenient to shift blame to external forces. And if we act on those impulses … guilt is a powerful incentive to duck responsibility.

Today's reading from Genesis is well-known even outside religious circles. The serpent tempting Eve to eat the fruit of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil is such a recognizable image that ad campaigns often reference it.  Gender studies examine how Eve's role in offering the fruit to Adam has been exploited to paint women as seductresses who lead men to sin. The story influences many cultures, and illustrates how we think about temptation.

While the serpent is traditionally the villain of the tale, note that no one remains blameless– God punishes the serpent, the man, and the woman. "She made me do it!" is not an acceptable excuse. Do we suppose Eve spent the rest of her days cursing the serpent? Or that Adam couldn't stop mumbling about her under his breath? We never learn whether anyone took ownership of his or her own actions.

Do we claim responsibility for our actions? As a society of armchair therapists, we have become adept at rationalizing and identifying (correctly or not) the roots of our own temptations and unhealthy behaviors. Too often this is where we stop, and a diagnosis becomes an excuse. Everyone has heard (or said) some variation on "I was mistreated so I behave badly." Explanations are only a start – real healing moves us beyond them. Certainly people can tempt us with opportunities, but we make the choices. Until we admit we knowingly and willingly ate the fruit, we aren't equipped to resist the next bite. We also aren't able to forgive ourselves or – more importantly – know God has forgiven us.

Temptation is inevitable. Our response to it is not, as long as we don't blame the serpent.

Evening Psalms 102; 133

Angels in the Wilderness

Today's readings: Psalms 5, 145; Isaiah 40:12-24; Ephesians 1:1-1; Mark 1:1-13

"Jesus in the Wilderness" Charles de la Fosse, 1690

Imagine that on your first day of work the boss introduces you to everyone by proclaiming how proud he is of you. Immediately, as a reward for whatever it was you did that earned such enthusiasm, you are assigned an extended gig at a remote branch to address a disgruntled former employee who now runs the competition. Per the opening chapter of Mark, that pretty much summed up Jesus' first day on the job: John baptized him, God announced his favor from the heavens, "and the Spirit immediately drove him out into the wilderness" where he spent forty days grappling with Satan.

That's the way life goes though. Just as we finally screw up the courage to make that change, or earn that promotion, or have that baby, we discover it comes with a new set of problems we weren't anticipating. We may start asking if we weren't better off before we got what we wanted. It doesn't seem fair that doing everything right leads to more work. But if Jesus - in whom God was "well pleased" (Mark 1:11) - was sent to suffer temptation in the wilderness, maybe we need to realign our expectations and definition of success.

Doing good work - especially doing God's work - does not guarantee ease. To the contrary, the Jews as God's chosen people suffered tremendously, and Christian history is full of martyrs. Our own trials vary in difficulty, but all are real. Some say trials are tests from God, but God does not act to push us away. Accepting accountability - to our boss, our children, ourselves or God - enlightens us to the brokenness in the world, and how much of it we are called to heal, prevent or bear witness to. The Spirit didn't send Jesus into the wilderness alone: angels waited on him (Mark 1:13). We also have support available - our fellow Christians who share the same accountability. When times are tough, we remind each other why what we do is important. We help carry each other's burdens. We listen. We cry. We are angels to each other.

Faith doesn't bring on suffering. It does put us in touch with the suffering that already exists. We can count on our God - and our angels - to see us through it.

Evening readings: Psalms 82, 29 

The Details Are in the Devil

Today's readings: Psalms 34, 147:12-20; Proverbs 8:22-30; 1 John 5:1-12, John 13:20-35

In John's account of the last supper, after Jesus handed Judas a piece of bread, "Satan entered into [Judas]" and Jesus sent him on his way to advance his act of betrayal (John 13:27). What do we think of this idea of Satan entering him? Do we think Judas was set up? Not in control? A co-conspirator with the Devil himself? All these ideas and more have been proposed by theologians across the centuries. One of the reasons they appeal to some of us is that they suggest Judas was not wholly responsible for his actions, and the next logical step down that path of thinking is that perhaps we are not wholly responsible for our own wrongdoings. Even if we don't blame Satan directly, we are prone to pin our failings on others: parents who were too strict (or not strict enough), peers who pressure us into poor choices, employers who don't treat us fairly, spouses who disappoint us. The simple truth is we are responsible for our own actions. Period.


An earlier chapter in John tells us Judas, as treasurer of the group, stole from the money bag (John 12:6). Satan doesn't get the blame for that one, which implies something about Judas’ character. It may seem like a big leap from stealing petty cash to betraying the savior of the world, but is it really? Certainly we all fail and sin in ways big and small, so what’s the difference between us and Judas?

Nothing, that’s what. And admitting that unpleasant truth can keep us from falling into the same spiritual trap as Judas. Just as we let God into our lives a little at a time by opening a door in our hearts through acts and attitudes of love and charity, we let in evil – whatever we name it – through acts and attitudes of selfishness and betrayal. Evil didn’t force its way into Judas: it stepped through an opening pushed wide over time. The good news is we can control which doorway is wide and which is narrow. Facing up to that control may involve the difficult task of honestly reevaluating our accountability for our own choices, but doing so prepares us to make better ones that let Christ in further. And in Christ there are no victims, only victors.

Evening readings: Psalms 19, 121