The Temptations of This Lent

Considering the right deeds for the wrong reasons

Image: Pacher, Michael. Legend of St. Thomas Becket. 1470/80.

Now is my way clear, now is the meaning plain:
Temptation shall not come in this kind again.
The last temptation is the greatest treason:
To do the right deed for the wrong reason.

That is the last stanza of the poem in T.S. Eliot’s 1935 Murder in the Cathedral.

It’s Lent, so I’ve been thinking a lot about Temptation. In Western Christendom, in those churches that follow the Lectionary, the gospel for the first Sunday in Lent is Luke’s reporting of the Temptation of Jesus in the Wilderness.

I’ve been thinking of my own Temptations, especially in these times of chaos and confusion. Especially in these times when our Democracy is being intentionally dismantled, stone by bloody stone, plank by bloody plank, pillar by bloody pillar.

Here is my Great Temptation: I’ve found myself - no, literally ‘found myself’ as the action was not thought out or intentional but ‘found myself’ - standing in front of my library shelves reading Greek myths, studying them, comparing and contrasting them, with this sole purpose: To learn how it was that the ancients killed monsters.

Murder in the Cathedral? Pshaw! Apparently, my subconscious has been searching for ways to do murder at the White House.

I am horrified and ashamed. What have I allowed myself to become? Turns out, the greatest temptation of evil is to repay evil with evil.

In T.S. Eliot’s verse drama, the play portrays the assassination of Archbishop Thomas Becket in Canterbury Cathedral during the reign of Henry II in 1170.

As the scene of his Temptation begins, Becket knows that his martyrdom is eminent and has embraced it as inevitable. Three priests are the voices of Temptation, offering a parallel to the Temptation of Christ.

The first tempter offers the prospect of physical safety. The second offers power, riches, and fame in serving the King. The third tempter suggests a coalition with the barons and a chance to resist the King. Finally, the fourth tempter urges him to seek the glory of martyrdom.

When the Tempters have done their work, Beckett’s “mind is clear.” He says,

The last temptation is the greatest treason:
To do the right deed for the wrong reason.

Greater minds than mine or yours have considered the weight of those words. ‘To do the right deed for the wrong reason’. To perform an action that appears morally good on the surface (in Beckett’s case, to seek martyrdom), but the underlying motivation behind it is not pure or virtuous (for his glory).

Essentially, it is doing something considered "right" but with a self-serving or ulterior motive, like helping someone only to gain favor in return, not out of genuine kindness.

There seems to be a lot of that goin’ ‘round these days. Congress seems to be a chamber teeming with Temptations. It may be that it was ever thus, but it certainly feels to be at a greater level of intensity and intentionality. That is not, however, to excuse my own soul from considering Temptation, albeit subconsciously.

At the close of the play, the knights address the audience to defend their actions. They maintain that while they understand their actions will be seen as murder, it was necessary and justified so that the power of the church should not undermine the stability of the state.

” . . . . the power of the church should not undermine the stability of the state.”

Talk about the last temptation! Or, perhaps it was that they had it in reverse. Perhaps their confession is that they believed they were doing the wrong thing for the right reason. Nevertheless, it sounds like a prescription for Appeasement. We know where that once got us.

And yet, this particular year, this Lent especially, I feel compelled to do something, to avoid some small temptation as a way to prepare myself for the Temptations I know are coming.

I do believe that theologian Dietrich Bonhoeffer, in his collusion with a plot to assasinate Hitler, was led to the gallows in a German concentration camp because he was Tempted by the defense to do the wrong thing for the right reason. In turn, his executioners were no doubt guilty of doing the wrong thing for the same right reason as Beckett’s soldiers -”the power of the church should not undermine the stability of the state” - even if the state was doing great evil in the name of Jesus.

That was 1945. Shortly before he was hanged, Bonhoeffer reportedly said to a fellow prisoner these last words, “This is the end. For me, the beginning of life”.

Here’s the thing I’ve been wrestling with, thus far this second day in Lent: I don’t think giving up chocolate or wine is going to change one iota of the trajectory of either my salvation or that of the world. And yet, this particular year, this Lent especially, I feel compelled to do something, to avoid some small temptation as a way to prepare myself for the Temptations I know are coming.

Temptations for me. Temptations for my church. Temptations for the church. Tempations for every person who claims to follow some religion or a Great Teacher on the path to being a better human. A moral person. A person who, perhaps, does the wrong thing for the right reason.

Ultimately, the only way I know that ‘the state’ has ever been stabilized. It is a great Temptation facing the church today.

The challenges of this particular Lent seem enormous and occasionally overwhelming to me. If they are to you, as well, then I want to suggest that you consider the importance of being part of a community of people who are also curious and troubled and seeking to navigate their way through the Temptations of Life.

I am hearing a line from the musical, Hamilton: “History has its eyes on you.”

Soon and very soon, we’ll be called to actions that will be questioned by generations to come. I am haunted by these words from Bonhoeffer: “The ultimate responsible question is not how I extricate myself heroically from a situation but how a coming generation is to go on living.”

As I’ve thought and prayed on this, I’m thinking that, while giving up chocolate or wine for 40 days and 40 nights might not save my soul, I’m considering that there might be great wisdom in starting small. With the seemingly insignificant. And, with great intention and purpose and prayer.

Sort of like the Karate Kid thinking “wax on, wax off” was a meaningless task to polish Mr. Miyagi’s cars, only to discover he was practicing an important defensive move.

It occurs to me that the act of giving up chocolate - or something seemingly insignificant that I love, like an entertaining TV program or a particular creature comfort - is not enough to save my soul. Rather, it is the intentionality of using it to prepare myself for the overwhelming task of avoiding the last Temptation: To do the right deed for the wrong reason. Which includes the Temptation of the misguided notion that I can save my soul 40 pieces of chocolate.

It’s the clarity Beckett had that I’m aiming for. (“Now is my way clear, now is the meaning plain.”) That’s going to take at least 40 days and nights to figure out.

The hope is that it will redirect the energy I’ve been spending considering how the Greeks killed their monsters. Come to think of it, that might just save my soul.

I hope something good happens to you today.

Bom dia.