March 01, 2007 

(With apologies to Stephen Vincent Benet, C. S. Lewis and Taylor Caldwell)

By Sean M. Wright

Q: Good Morning, Your Infernal Highness. Glad to speak with you.

Satan: Needling me already, eh?

Q: Needling you?

Satan: The "Infernal Highness" bit. Wishing me a "good" morning. And no one's been glad to speak to me in five centuries.

Q: But you're the Prince of Darkness and …

Satan: … and you live in a republic, not an aristocracy. I won't be patronized.

Q: It was unintentional. Let's get down to business. This Sunday's Gospel details your meeting Jesus of Nazareth before He began His ministry. What did you hope to accomplish?

Satan: A lot! I just didn't know how special Jesus was.

Q: But all those prophecies, angels at his birth, the star … surely you had some inkling?

Satan: Listen, I hate to burst your bubble, buster, but I don't waste a lotta time on this insignificant speck of a planet. What do you have? Caligula? The Borgias? Watergate? The petroleum cartel? Small potatoes! I usually leave temptation on Earth to lesser demons.

Q: Then why are you so hell-bent for us to join you in everlasting damnation?

Satan: Simple. To prove to my Enemy Above that petty humanity, with its muddy intellect and slimy desires, is simply not worth saving. Ever read Job? The Unknowable One wants you, an object made from water and minerals, to take my place among celestial beings forever in bliss. It's disgusting!

True, every so often one of you comes along who catches my attention, I test them: Socrates, Livia, Hildebrand, that Aquinas chap, Catherine of Siena --- now there was a spitfire --- Martin Luther, John Vianney, John Adams, Margaret Sanger, Dorothy Day --- a few others.

And I'm not cheap! I'm willing to shell out plenty to snatch a soul out of His hands. You'd drop your uppers if you knew how much those people you call "saints" reject. Or how little most sinners settle for. I win some, I lose some. Variety lends spice to the game.

Q: I see. But we were speaking of …

Satan: Yeah, yeah. Jesus, the Word made flesh. I dropped in from the Andromeda galaxy to give Livia some ideas about who to poison next when Jesus was born. I had a lot on my mind, what with inventing orgies, gladiator contests and imperialism. By the time I noticed Jesus, 30 years had slipped by.

He looked good --- very good. Still, overwork made me sloppy. I shoulda checked out His Mother's record first. Whoa! Was that ever a tipoff!

See, I wanted to use Jesus the same way we use some of those televangelists today. It's become my favorite ploy for your destruction.

Q: What ploy is that?

Satan: It's our "Gimme That Old Time Religion" gambit. The Catholic variation is "The Pope Can't Tell Me What to Do."

A charismatic preacher comes along offering cheap salvation. "Just believe!" he declares, backing up his claims with some snappy biblical double-talk. Before you can say "verily," people are cleaning out their savings accounts "for the Lord's work." Too often this is diverted into the stock market, a charming little private plane, a 26-bedroom "cottage" in the Swiss Alps or a condo in Orlando.

My Enemy's tougher. He invites you to offer Him the best of your abilities; to love others as much as you love yourself; to crucify overweening ambition --- and do it joyfully. What was He thinking of? That Spanish chick, Teresa of Avila, got it right. After taking a pratfall in the mud, she glanced skyward and sighed, "No wonder You have so few friends. You treat them so badly."

Eventually the preacher we've set up is exposed as an embezzler. Or caught in a sleazy motel room. Maybe something worse. It depends. The press and TV news people close in because we've got a whole legion of demons working overtime on them.

Next thing you know --- POW! Disillusionment! "True believers" find their expectations dashed. The Christian ethos now sickens them. That's when we move in for the kill. "All godly leaders are hypocrites," we whisper. "Forget the hereafter. Life is now."

They get anesthetized with drink, drugs, infidelity, vices of all kinds. Anything to fill that inner void where they thought they'd made the Eternal One their pet. When despair hits, they're ours. It works diabolically!

Q: And this is how you hoped to use Jesus?

Satan: You bet! I thought Jesus'd fit the bill neatly.

Q: Looks like you were disappointed.

Satan: Humph! That's an understatement. Jesus was in the desert meditating, been without food for weeks and ripe for my suggestions.

"Hungry?" I asked Him. "So turn these stones into bread." He had a comeback: "Man does not live by bread alone." Big joke.

So I appealed to His showmanship: "Jump off the Temple roof, float to earth, take a bow, and start rounding up the suckers." No dice. He saw through that one, too. I thought He might.

I'd saved the big pitch for last. All the kingdoms of the world for His own, I offered. No effort whatsoever. He only had to put Himself in my hands. I like to think He actually considered the idea for a moment.

I recall He smiled. It prompted a vague recollection. That same shy, loving smile from an eternity before. Was He going to laugh in my face? Worse. He simply turned His back to me. Can you imagine? "Away with you," He said softly. And with that He dismissed me. ME!

Then it hit me. Divinity had embraced humanity in the person of Jesus of Nazareth. What a cheat is my Enemy Above! He'd slipped His Son among you guys as deftly as Houdini shuffled cards.

I admit I was trounced. It was a dirty trick, I tell ya. But don't worry; I still have a few friends here: lawyers, politicians, internet porn merchants, cell phone manufacturers, phony fitness gurus --- and parking lot owners. I'm not finished yet!

Sean M. Wright, member of Our Lady of Perpetual Help parish in Santa Clarita, novelist and liturgical artist, presents workshops and enrichment courses on Catholic topics to schools and parishes. He answers comments sent him at Locksley89@AOL.com.

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