On not being tested
Matthew 4:1-11 Lent 1
all the kingdoms of the world and their glory,
The kingdoms of the world are key to understanding Jesus’ engagement with the devil. This encounter in the wilderness is all about who controls the world.
In the time of Jesus, all the kingdoms of the world basked in the glory of the divine emperor—son of a god, saviour of the world, lord, bringer of peace.
Matthew’s gospel begins by proclaiming that Jesus of Nazareth is the Messiah, the hoped-for anointed one, the Jewish saviour. And to ensure readers are in no doubt about the nation-shaping nature of his messiahship, Matthew tells us that Jesus is the son of David—the king of the unified golden age of Israel and the son of Abraham—the Hebrew nation-maker (Genesis 12:2, 2 Samuel 5:1-5, Matthew 1:1).
And now, the Messiah, the Jewish saviour, is offered ways to live out his mission, to save his people and to encompass all the kingdoms of the world (Matthew 1:22).
This is a story about power, its truth, its lies, and its seductions.
“If you are the Son of God, command these stones to become loaves of bread.”
One of the key tasks of the emperor—the son of a god—was to command adequate supplies of bread to be made available to the population. Jesus and the people of Galilee—the breadbasket of Judea—knew this all too well; they were taxed heavily to fill the empire’s granaries.
Bread and circuses is how the second-century Roman poet Juvenal described the job of the emperor. This was not praise but biting satire. Juvenil lamented a population so easily bought off by free bread and entertainment, so easily distracted from glaring injustice and inequality by spectacles and consumption.
Any successful Messiah, any alternative Son of God, needs to do what all sons of god, all emperors do—commandbread to entice, pacify, satiate, and control. This is how you prove your bona fides. You act. You command.
But he answered, “It is written, ‘One does not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God.’”
It is written: There is an alternative narrative about the world, and it is quite different from the imperial narrative of violence, command, and control. Command all you like, but the truth of the world, its power, is not in force, but in fecundity (Matthew 13:32). It is God who commands: Let the earth put forth vegetation: plants yielding seed and fruit trees of every kind on earth that bear fruit with the seed in it (Genesis 1:11) It is the divinely animated universe that gives life even to stones (Matthew 3:9).
Decree what you will, but reality is not in the words of a divine emperor but in every word that comes from the mouth of God. Every word, everything, spoken into existence—the true and good nature of the created, interconnected, interdependent world (Genesis 1:12).
Then the devil took him to the holy city and placed him on the pinnacle of the temple, saying to him, “If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down, for it is written, ‘He will command his angels concerning you,’ and ‘On their hands they will bear you up, so that you will not dash your foot against a stone.’”
First, the bread, then the circus. It is the imperial son-of-god playbook.
If a Messiah is going to command attention and allegiance, sustenance will need to be followed by spectacle. Emperors are divine because they do divine things—they conquer and command, they dominate and control. This is what is written in imperial theology: might makes right. That the known world is subservient to Rome is all the proof anyone needs of an emperor’s divinity.
One who was mortal like us is mortal no longer; they have conquered and dominated; therefore, they have been borne up above the world of mortals. They do not dash their foot against a stone but ride a warhorse in triumph through the streets of Rome, displaying captured loot, chained chieftains, and the beaten gods: bread and circuses.
Commanding on earth; commanding in the heavens, controlling everywhere, that is how you run an empire!
Jesus said to him, “Again it is written, ‘Do not put the Lord your God to the test.’”
Jesus and the devil are reading different newspapers; the social media algorithms are showing them different feeds. The devil is reading the old story about command and control. Jesus is reading an even older story about the originating reality, the foundational energy, the universe’s creative life-force, existential truth—God.
Existential truth cannot be negotiated with, it cannot be intimidated, coerced, manipulated, or snowed. Truth cannot be tested, reasoned, or bargained with; it can only be lived in and lived out. All else is spectacle—smoke and mirrors, bread and circuses.
Again, the devil took him to a very high mountain and showed him all the kingdoms of the world and their glory, and he said to him, “All these I will give you, if you will fall down and worship me.”
To worship is to give undivided attention. What we worship is that which we ache for and shape our longings around. Worship/attention is not something we choose to do or not do; it is who we are—our only choice is where we give our attention/worship.
The imperial project is acquisitive; it is always about having everything: all the kingdoms, all the world, all the glory, all the worship. There is nothing else to be done but to fall down, relinquish our standing upright, God-given human decision-making responsibilities, and grovel on the ground (Genesis 2:19, 3:14). Convinced of our powerlessness, we abandon agency and let empire/corporation/culture/algorithm/family/tradition take care of all.
Then Jesus said to him, “Away with you, Satan! for it is written, ‘Worship the Lord your God, and serve only him.’”
But there is something else. The relentless, grinding march of conquering and controlling, defeating and defending, is not the only story. The hunger we have for justice, the thirst we have for beauty, the longing we have for intimacy, these run deep in us.
We are made for garden, not empire (Genesis 2:8). We are full of the breath of the divine (Genesis 2:7). This story is written in our DNA. It is to the true reality of the universe of love and justice, goodness and community that we long to give our attention/worship (Genesis 2:15-18).
Then the devil left him, and suddenly angels came and waited on him.
Then, suddenly, the world was different. Evil was banished—away with you—the hard logic and power of the imperial project is ignored, and life was as it was always meant to be. There was no barrier between the divine and mortal realms, and the truth of the world’s created goodness waited on/cared/ministered to Jesus.
But this is not the end. Evil and its insidiousness are not gone, nor is the acquisitive, conquering imperial project; they return repeatedly in this gospel (Matthew 5:11; 37;39; 45; 12:35-45; 27:2, 11–26).
Matthew’s gospel is not done with the tests and lies of empire. Twice, Jesus feeds hungry people abandoned by the system, both Jews and non-Jews. He bypasses the imperial system—you give them something to eat—and provides, not subsistence but abundance, and he acts out of compassion, not circus (Matthew 4:13-21; 15:32-39).
Jesus will experience hands that will bear him up, but they will not be angel hands; they will be the hands of the elders and chief priests and scribes, who, collaborating with the empire, will put him up on a cross (Matthew 16:21; 26:50; 27:26).
And, finally, Jesus will know glory, but it will not be the gaudy, gilded glory of a Roman triumph—or a White House ballroom—it will be the freely given, always everywhere creational glory of the lilies of the field and the birds of the air that cannot be conquered, controlled, or commanded (Matthew 6:28-30).

