Apples

What I remember from the board game Monopoly was that players competed with each other by moving around various places on the board and acquiring properties (e.g. hotels and houses, railways and utilities) along the way. You all began on the same starting block and as the game went on, you got to buy or lease these properties, which then gave you leverage in subsequent transactions, thus giving you power. 

Depending on your luck and savvy, the properties and power you had would be lost or multiplied. Eventually, one person won the whole thing by completely dominating the market (hence the word “monopoly”) and leaving the rest bankrupt and beyond bailout. If you were the winner and you had the personality, this aura of artificial domination did wonders for your self-esteem and made you proud.

Property (or possessions), power, and pride. In essence, these were the three tempting things the devil offered Jesus in the desert. To convert stone to bread is to change, well, rocky stuff into something of greater value and utility, such as property. To own all the kingdoms of the world is to amass power and command allegiance; and to fall down unscathed because angels anyway will be falling at your feet is to bask in pride.

These are not in themselves bad things. Property or possessions give you security and stability. Power you can wield to do good and give away good things. Pride you need to rebuild your self-respect and sense of responsibility. 

Imagine the millions you could feed if you could change stone to bread, or if you could mine all that subterranean capital and turn it into wealth. Imagine the millions you could convince and convert if you had the power to exact tribute or obedience from the minions at your feet. Imagine the tremendous sense of esteem and autonomy that could be obtained when you take pride in your accomplishments and army of angels.

Even our political candidates shall proffer all three to us this May, promising security, benefaction, and self-respect. After all, most got to where they are now from their possessions, power, and pride. In so many words, they will say: these are what we now have, these are what you need, and if you elect us, these are what you will have.

No wonder then that possessions, power, and pride are the three apples of the serpent in this different sort of Eden.

The story of the 40 days in the desert only suggests it, but Jesus must have been all torn apart by those gleaming apples.   After all, he could have taken the devil up on his offer (i.e. converting stone to bread, owning all the kingdoms of the world, and falling down unharmed), even without the devil goading him to. He could have converted all the water in the world into wine, multiplied the loaves and fish ad infinitum, replicated his platoon of disciples until it was an invading army, and he could have fallen down or flown away from the cross on Calvary.

We would have been amazed again and again, and we might have adored and worshiped and obeyed. But we would not have loved. Our conversion would have been only on the surface; our redemption like the gleam of apples and the veneer of goodness wrapped around these temptations.

Jesus could have returned us to Eden on the path of possessions, power, and pride. But that would have been another Eden and it would not have been God’s way. We learn of this from the Scriptures which become a refuge and shield for Jesus in the desert. Through God’s word, we come to believe that we live not by bread alone; neither are we to worship and serve other lords, nor are we to tempt and impose on God.

Jesus could have led us out of this valley of tears on the delicious goodness of those apples. But that would not have been honest and human. He could have emerged victorious as in Monopoly, dominating all the markets that were into buying and selling salvation, but that would have bankrupted the human heart. He could have done all this in an instant, with messianic flair, but it would not have been real and true and lasting.

The word “lent” comes from the German word “lenz” for “spring,” which in turn is drawn from the Germanic term for “long.” In spring, in that wonderful interlude between winter and summer (or when the fickle amihan wind changes to the steadier habagat), the days start to lengthen. Lent is more than thus a time for confronting our demons in the desert. As a graceful term of hope, lent is when light lengthens over dark. It is when the Paschal mystery of Christ’s passion, death, and resurrection comes to its fullest revelation.

It is through the luminous action of this Mystery in our lives that we are saved. Not by Monopoly or gleaming apples, but by his wounds are we healed.

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Fr. Jose Ramon T. Villarin SJ is President of Xavier University, Ateneo de Cagayan. For feedback on this column, e-mail [email protected]