Not Of This World

What Jesus called “the world” is actu­ally a set of repeat­ing prin­ci­ples in his­tory. Three of the most pop­u­lar ones were pre­sented to him at his temp­ta­tion. In essence, this is how the world con­trols peo­ple: it asks us to trade our phys­i­cal secu­rity for our integrity; it enter­tains us with things that appear super­hu­man; it requires our alle­giance to the imme­di­ate grat­i­fi­ca­tions of power. None of these are ter­ri­bly new, and they are not going out of style any­time soon. The ancient Romans con­trolled the masses through “bread and cir­cus” (and a bru­tal police/military just in case). It is a sim­ple and com­mon trick.
The prin­ci­ples are still around, and are as pop­u­lar as ever. Insti­tu­tions promise secu­ri­ties and rewards that they may not actu­ally be able to pro­vide in the long run (retire­ments can dis­ap­pear). There is enough amuse­ment out there to enter­tain every­one twenty-four hours a day — for­ever. We have tech­nolo­gies that amaze us, but often at the expense of our real human needs.
Jesus came to present an anti­dote to this ever-repeating malaise of pre­dictable soul-numbing dynam­ics. He offers a way of liv­ing that is “not of this world” — in the sense that it does not bow to the cycles of food, secu­rity, and amuse­ment. In the temp­ta­tion, he held out for some things that were bet­ter: integrity, appro­pri­ate awe, and an infi­nite future hope. Instant grat­i­fi­ca­tions are tempt­ing, but they cheapen the soul. P.T. Bar­num sum­ma­rized it suc­cinctly: “A sucker is born every minute.” Bar­num brought us a cir­cus, and any num­ber of pro­fes­sional con­for­mi­ties will bring us the bread. The bore­dom and empti­ness always returns. The world’s cycle begins again.
Spir­i­tual hunger allows no sub­sti­tutes. It feeds on things “not of this world.” It will not be easy, but your quest to find them will be the most sat­is­fy­ing thing you will ever do.