The first of the desert monastics, Saint Antony, was reported to have taught: “This is the great task of man, that he should hold his sin before the face of God, and count upon temptation until his last breath.” (1)

We tend to “count upon temptation” with our first Lenten breath, for no sooner are those ashes smeared on our foreheads than we have sworn to sacrifice some beloved treat for the entire season, thereby inviting temptation in for a forty-day fight. We might be feeling the first pangs of temptation (or at least deprivation) as soon as the first Sunday in Lent, when we hear the story of Jesus’ temptation in the desert. After Jesus emerges from the waters of his baptism and hears an affirmation of his identity from his heavenly Father, the Holy Spirit then leads him into the harsh Judean desert where he is tempted by the devil for forty days, all the while with no provision of food or water. (This is the part of the story we can likely identify with, we who have taken on some discipline throughout Lent.) But what is the meaning of all this? Why does Jesus willingly face into temptation during his forty days in the desert? And why do we reprise this same struggle each Lent?

If you’re anything like me, the idea of facing temptation is not exactly an appealing prospect. We pray, every time we say the Lord’s Prayer, “lead us not into temptation.” Temptation seems to be something that makes us feel bad about ourselves. It can make us feel vulnerable and helpless. We face enough challenges in our day-to-day lives; it can be hard to then willingly give up something or things that brings us respite and joy amidst the chaos.  

For all who struggle with Lenten discipline, I want to share another way of seeing temptation, one drawn from the monastic tradition. The monastic view of temptation has strengthened my own resolve during many a Lent, and I hope it might open new paths for you on your own Lenten journey.

For monastics, temptation is not something to be avoided. Following Jesus into the desert, monastics choose to go the other way: straight toward temptation. Sometimes this journey is literal. Beginning around the third century CE, men and women began following Jesus’ example and migrating into the desert to live an ascetic life. This path was not intended to be an escape from the toil of life in community, but rather an engagement directly with temptation and the dark forces which endeavor to separate us from God’s love. We read in St. Athanasius’ biography of Anthony that he left the city with the specific intention of engaging in spiritual warfare in the desert. Well, he got his wish! Once Anthony was in the desert, the devil tried to lead him away from the ascetic life with reminders of his wealth, his former love of fame and glory, worry about the care of his sister, as well as concern for his own health in the desert terrain—just to name a few of the temptations the devil tried.  But Anthony was not swayed. Athanasius continues, “But he like a man filled with rage and grief turned his thoughts to the threatened fire and the gnawing worm, and setting these in array against his adversary, passed through the temptation unscathed. All this was a source of shame to his foe. For he, deeming himself like God, was now mocked by a young man; and he who boasted himself against flesh and blood was being put to flight by a man in the flesh.” (2) By facing into temptation, Anthony bested the devil, just as Jesus did before him.

While our struggles in Lent may not be quite as intense as Anthony’s (let’s hope!), we go into the “desert” of abstinence, discipline, and prayer with the same goal that led him, all those centuries ago, into the wilderness. We do it to face into temptation. But in order for the experience to be effective (and not destructive), we have to be thoughtful about the discipline we select and how we pursue it.

One of my forebears in my own monastic community, The Society of Saint John the Evangelist, offers a helpful teaching on this point. Fr. Arthur Hall SSJE (later the third bishop of the Episcopal Diocese of Vermont), teaches two benchmarks to consider when picking a Lenten discipline. First, he says that it should entail the sacrifice of the lower-self for the sake of the higher-self. (3) Arbitrarily selecting a Lenten discipline—without discernment as to its ulterior end—is to set about in an “adventure in missing the point.” If we do not have the growth of our higher nature in mind when we set out on our Lenten discipline, then our abstinence risks being in vain (and, moreover, we will not stand a chance when confronted with temptation).

Second, Hall teaches that the purpose of our Lenten discipline is for the training and building up of our spiritual fortitude, not the destruction or tearing down of our lower-self. (4) Hall’s teaching here draws directly on the wisdom of the desert tradition. Amma Theodora says: “Let us strive to enter by the narrow gate. Just as the trees stood before the winter’s storms and cannot bear fruit, so it is with us; this present age is a storm and it is only through many trials and temptations that we can obtain an inheritance in the kingdom of heaven.” (5) If we select the right Lenten discipline, we in a sense select the right temptation, and we will be fortified, not broken down, by our struggles. Think of training for a marathon: a runner starts out gradually, incrementally building up the body and its endurance. Over-training and ignoring what the body needs will lead only to injury—or quitting—thereby sabotaging the goal before we even take our first stride in the race. To be successful at anything, you have to know your limits and your ultimate goal. The same goes for spiritual discipline. A saying attributed to the fourth-century desert monastic Evagrius Ponticus instructs: “If you want to know God, learn to know yourself first. (6)

Any spiritual discipline—whether it’s a monastic discipline (like the vows) or a Lenten discipline (like reading Scripture or giving up beer)—is not ultimately about giving something up for Jesus, to show your love for him. Rather, it’s about identifying what will help you to become a better follower of Jesus.  What are the obstacles separating you from the love of God? Start small. In the first letter of Paul to the Corinthians we read: “So, whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do everything for the glory of God.” (7) What we do with our lower nature, however small, can actually transform our higher nature, to the glory of God.

Perhaps this is what it really means when we read that Saint Anthony faced his demons: he confronted the demons of his lower self for the sake of his higher self—that self that was called to follow Jesus. In this way, all the desert mothers and fathers practiced what Benedictine writer Anselm Gruen calls “spirituality from below.” In his book Heaven Begins Within You, Gruen explains that today’s spirituality is often from the top down: spirituality presents high ideals that we are supposed to somehow translate into physical reality. Along the way, we usually end up repressing our weak points and limits, because they clash with our lofty ideals. Desert monastics, on the other hand, teach spirituality “from below.” They show us we have to begin with ourselves and our passions, as they really are. The way to God always passes through self-knowledge. (8) And what better way to learn about ourselves than through facing temptation? I wonder if this, in fact, was why the Spirit led Jesus into the desert in the first place. Perhaps Jesus willingly undertook his forty-day fast in order to learn more about who he was: what it meant to be both divine and human. 

St. Gregory of Nazianzus said that, “What has not been assumed has not been healed.” (9) Take heart in your Lenten fight with temptation that Jesus has been there before you—Jesus and all the centuries of monastics who headed into the desert in earnest anticipation of the struggle they would find there. We are not alone on our Lenten pilgrimage. Just as the Spirit led Jesus into the desert, so Jesus joins us on our journey. In fact, he leads us there—for our growth and God’s glory. 

This Lent, remember that temptation is not sin; it’s not failure; and it’s not something to avoid. Rather, temptation is a useful tool in the right ordering of our affections. When you feel temptation during these next forty days, stop and process what is going on within you. Let the temptation teach you. Let it show you what distracts you from being the person whom God created you to be. This Lent, I hope facing temptation will help you to grow.

1. Gruen, Anselm. Heaven Begins within You: Wisdom from the Desert Fathers. Crossroad Pub., 1999.

2. Athanasius. “Life of St. Anthony.” Edited by Kevin Knight. Translated by H. Ellershaw, CHURCH FATHERS: Life of St. Anthony (Athanasius), New Advent, 2017, www.newadvent.org/fathers/2811.htm.

3. Hall, A. C. A. Self-Discipline: Six Addresses. New York: J. Pott, 1894.

4. Ibid.

5. Ward, Benedicta. The Sayings of the Desert Fathers. Mowbrays, 1975.

6. Gruen, Heaven Begins.

7. 1 Corinthians 10:31

8. Gruen, Heaven Begins.

9. Nazianzus, Gregory. “Critique of Apollinarius and Apollinarianism.” Gregory of Nazianzus - Critique of Apollinarianism, earlychurchtexts.com/public/gregoryofnaz_critique_of_apolliniarianism.htm.