Thursday, March 31, 2011

The devil and his poisons



Vercingetorix, who had united the Gallic tribes against theRomans, almost routed the latter by attacking the weakest part of their fortifications—the upper camp that lay on a steep hill on the north side, which the Romans could not include in their defense works. Caesar had personally to lead the last reserves into battle in order to turn the tide.

Being the great military strategist that he was, Julius Caesar needed no reminders that an army is only as tough as its frailest flank. Or, as the saying goes, a chain is no stronger than its weakest link.

As in military combat, so it is in spiritual warfare. The devil knows Latin, and has read Caesar’s “De Bello Gallico.” The devil mounts his attack against the most vulnerable area of a person'scharacter, choosing to do this at a time when the person is least vigilant.

Luke tells us that Jesus spent 40 days in the desert without eating. We may never know the intensity of Jesus’ hunger after that, but the devil saw that it was intense enough for him to decide to strike there. And so the devil told Jesus, “If you are the Son of God, tell this stone to become bread.” (The devil could just have said “turn the stone into bread” instead of “tell the stone to become bread,” a more dramatic line—if the hoofed one lacked anything, it was not style.) The devil hit Jesus where he thought he was most defenseless—the stomach. But Jesus turned the tables on him, “It is written: ‘Man does not live on bread alone.’”

Thomas Aquinas remarks that the devil tempts man by feeding his intellect and sense. Aside from inviting Adam and Eve to eat of the fruit, the devil assured them that they would acquire such knowledge as would make them like God.

Using the same pattern, the devil first reminded Jesus of his power and status. He began inducing him to satisfy his hunger by saying, “If you are the Son of God…”

Man sins with his mind and will rather than with his sense, although they work in synergy, the latter being the servant of the former. William Carlos Williams makes theft the subject of a poem (“This Is Just to Say”), and yet, because of the lack of malice in the act, we look at it with more amusement than condemnation:
I have eaten

the plums

that were in

the icebox

and which

you were probably

saving

for breakfast

Forgive me

they were delicious

so sweet

and so cold
The devil makes for a flaw in a person’s character, more than in his physical makeup. The fact that a person has an enormous appetite matters less to the tempter than his greed or pride.

And so, where morally he is the least protected, there he should expect the infernal Vercingetorix to concentrate his attack, bringing forth from his camp the other-worldly equivalent of such weapons as Caesar enumerated—“long hooks movable penthouses, mural hooks, and other things…”

By enduring the devil’s temptations, Jesus puts across to us, not just the inevitability of the devil's inducements (by reason of human freedom), but also the need, with God's help, to hold fast and not to yield.

The inscriptions on the ancient medal of St. Benedict include “IVV” (Ipse Venea Vibas), which is Latin for—and this, in case of temptation or spiritual danger, we can say to the devil—“Drink your own poisons!”

In a sense, Augustine considers temptation necessary. “Man would have no prospect of any special praise,” he says, “if he were able to lead a good life simply because there was none to persuade him to lead an evil life…”

No comments:

Post a Comment