Reflection for the Vigil of the First Sunday in Lent

(1 Cor.1:18-25; Matt. 4:1-11)

In conversations with people outside the monastery, I’ve noticed a disturbing trend recently. Some online preachers, including Catholic priests, have become obsessed with demons in the world.  It’s not just recognition of the evil that exists in some form, but an actual fear of creatures behind every bush and under every bed, waiting to attack good people and possess their wills. These preachers give advice on how to know when they’re around and how to combat them with various prayers and rituals. The most important protection you can have is the official exorcism medal of the Catholic Church. It looks like this (hold up St. Benedict medal). We can get it in solid gold, surrounded by diamonds, on Walmart.com for $2849.90 or a simpler, but hopefully just as effective, version on Sister Mary Agnes’s free table in the gift shop.

There is so much fear and anxiety with all the violence, deprivation, and suffering in our world that it is no surprise that many want to put it completely outside of ourselves and blame it all on something random and shadowy, of which we must live in constant fear or which we can blame, beginning already with Eve’s

“The devil made me do it.”

Abba Antony, the model for monastic life, sees it another way, and this is the way that we learn from Jesus. When the demons would attack Antony, he would just say, “Here I am. You have no power because Jesus has already won the battle.” In his discourse on demons, which it is pretty clear he equates with the temptations within us, he explains that the “demons” come to us in the manner in which we are most susceptible to being weakened. Even today, we refer to our internal struggles as “our demons.” They are the temptations that attract our attention away from the good. If our weakness is wealth, we will be distracted by offers of wealth; if anger, they point out all the aggravations around us, and so forth. So the trick is to learn not to have any interest in the temptations they offer and to know that we are loved and saved by Jesus if we hold to his ways.

We see in the temptation of Jesus in the desert that violent possession by demons is not the devil’s main weapon, but rather, it is luring us away from good by human desires from within. Says the devil: “Here, eat something,” to which Jesus replies, “No thanks. I’d rather do what I came to do.” Devil: “How about wealth?”; Jesus: “Nope, don’t need that either.” Devil: “Surely, I can tempt you with power?” Jesus:

“Why would I want that selfish power when I have the true power of God’s love.”

The devil keeps trying to find Jesus’ weak point, and all he gets is, “Yeah, I don’t need that. I’m fine.” Then Jesus uses the most powerful weapon, his trust in the Word of God, which gives him strength. As the reading from Corinthians reminds us, this is the foolishness of faith, something that rejects all the things that the world would tell us we should desire for reasons that, in truth, are not the way to wisdom and happiness.

If we are to follow Jesus and overcome temptations this Lent, we need not look to exorcists and magic charms; our superpower is our trust in Jesus to keep us steadfast in the way of true wisdom that leads to true happiness. If the devil suggests we should have more creature comforts, or to look at another person with jealousy or anger, or even to look at ourselves negatively, we should place our trust in God, maybe even repeat a scripture quote (it seemed to work well for Jesus), and just think, “Sorry, devil. Don’t need it — don’t need the doubt, the distraction, the desire. I’m good without your offers, and Jesus will help me handle it.”