The Temptation of the Good

Reconciling personal faith and civic service has never been easy. Even before relatively modern concerns about the separation of church and state, Christians recognized a tension between the state’s divine duty to enforce justice and its tendency toward fallen corruption. Augustine famously dealt with this in The City of God, distinguishing between the earthly city that serves temporal needs and the city of God that serves true and eternal justice. Understanding that human rulers are unlikely to perfectly serve justice, he exhorts Christians to pray for their rulers and endure even unjust laws that do not oppose the laws of God.

This exhortation is complicated in a democracy, where citizens are also the rulers for whom they must pray. Is a Christian culpable for the actions of a ruler that she helped elect? Is she culpable for a ruler elected through her inaction? In recent years, such questions have dominated Christian political discourse.

Those looking for answers should take an afternoon to read Paradise Regained, a seventeenth-century poem by John Milton dramatizing the temptation of Christ in Luke 4. The blind poet spent most of his adult life in politics, first as an outside agitator and then in government as a civil servant who sought to serve the common good with Christian virtue, only to watch that government fail spectacularly in these aims. He is therefore uniquely situated to appreciate both Satan’s tempting offer of “the kingdoms of the world” and Christ’s rejection of that offer. As his poem shows, Satan does not tempt merely through the offer of power; he tempts Christ with the power to do good.

This is clearest in Milton’s account of the second temptation. Instead of offering Jesus abstract rule of “the kingdoms of the world,” in the poem Satan offers the imperial purple of Rome: “This Emperor hath no Son, and now is old, / Old, and lascivious, and from Rome retir’d.” He refuses to rule justly, instead preferring to spend his time with underaged men and women on the secluded island of Caprae “with purpose there / His horrid lusts in private to enjoy.” This emperor is “hated of all and hating,” an old man who is no longer fit for rule and instead commits “to a wicked Favourite / All publick cares.” It doesn’t take much imagination to apply Milton’s description of an inept and aged leader to one contemporary politician or another, but Milton’s Satan is in fact referring to a specific historical figure: Emperor Tiberius.

Tiberius ruled from AD 14 to AD 37, covering the period of Christ’s active ministry. Although his early rule received popular acclaim, his later years were widely viewed as deeply corrupt and vile. Milton did not invent or exaggerate his sins in Paradise Regained, but instead drew upon episodes from Roman historian Suetonius that Milton and his contemporaries studied in school. Grounding this Satanic temptation in the historical record allows Milton to concretize what would otherwise seem a vague and abstract temptation. The person of Jesus Christ, God incarnate, walked in a Roman world ruled by a particularly sinful emperor.

Gustave Dore, Jesus tempted by the Devil, engraving, nineteenth century. PRISMA ARCHIVO / Alamy Stock Photo.

For Milton’s Satan, Tiberius’s extreme corruption serves as the incitement to temptation. Because the Emperor is wicked, Satan argues, Christ should “expel this monster from his Throne / Now made a stye, and in his place ascending /A victor people free from servile yoke.” A virtuous man would overthrow a wicked tyrant and free the oppressed and marginalized. He would then rule wisely, offering liberty and justice to all. Jesus disagrees. He refuses Satan’s offer of the imperial throne.

Because this offer comes from Satan, we assume that Milton thinks Jesus is right to refuse. And yet Milton’s logic can be difficult to grasp. Virtuous people are expected to serve the community as leaders. Americans will know George Washington and the other founding fathers as such mythologized figures. Servant leaders are praised from the pulpit and the media is full of reluctant heroes stoically accepting their duty. We would be disappointed in an Aragorn who refused to become King of Gondor, a Luke Skywalker who chose not to overthrow Emperor Palpatine, or a Harry Potter who refused to train and lead Dumbledore’s Army.

Here some might argue that rule itself is Satan’s trap, that Rome’s imperial nature cannot be redeemed. But then why not overthrow Tiberius and let the Roman people rule themselves? Even if Jesus should not reign in a temporal manner, why is Tiberius allowed to continue his corrupt rule? Insofar as Jesus is fully God, this touches on the problem of evil – a question Milton addresses more fully in Paradise Lost. But Jesus is also fully man and Paradise Regained attempts to understand his actions in that sense.

For Milton, Christ’s apparently virtuous inaction is immediately complicated by the later claim in Luke 4 that Christ has come to “set at liberty them that are bruised.” Christ’s self-identified mission is to free captive people – precisely what Satan suggests he would be doing by removing Tiberius from power. If Christ is going to set people free, why not start with Rome? Such a powerful position would allow him to much more effectively free the rest of the world.

At this point, Milton could be making a distinction between secular, political power and Christ’s emphasis on a kingdom that is not of this world. But such a distinction ignores Milton’s own history. Born in 1608 under the rule of King James I, Milton led a relatively quiet life until the English Civil War in 1642. During the war, however, he began to write publicly in support of Parliament’s revolt against Charles I. His arguments were often explicitly theological, although he also drew upon classical and contemporary political theorists. Most notably, he argues in The Tenure of Kings and Magistrates that “the coming of Christ cut down dynastas or proud monarchs from the throne.” For this reason, evil rulers “fear none more than the true church and saints of God, as the most dangerous enemies and subverters of monarchy.” Christian faith demands the overthrow of tyrants, Milton suggests, fusing faith and civil service together into a unified demand for justice. For Milton, private faith will always play out in public. If your faith is sincere, it will necessarily lead to action – personal and political.

This pamphlet was so well received that the Commonwealth appointed Milton as the Secretary for Foreign Tongues, employing him to write official defenses of their policies. Yet in Paradise Regained these arguments are put into the mouth of Satan and rejected by Jesus, “the Son.” Partially, this is due to the change in political circumstances. When Milton wrote The Tenure of Kings and Magistrates, England had a revolutionary new government. Parliament had just won a civil war and deposed King Charles I. England was beginning to experiment with republican self-rule, attempting to compose new laws and develop a new constitution in line with biblical principles. Paradise Regained was written after the fall of that government. After nearly twenty years of bitter debates, Parliament gave up and restored the monarchy under Charles II in 1660. Milton himself narrowly avoided execution for his part in the Commonwealth, and he wrote this poem as an older man whose earthly hopes and dreams had fallen to dust.

Yet the changing circumstances do not entirely explain the argument in Paradise Regained, and in the poem Milton never recants his earlier politics. Instead, he has the Son raise two pointed objections. First, he describes the reality of rule: “embassies thou show’st / From nations far and nigh; what honor that, / But tedious waste of time.” As Milton knows from his experience meeting daily with the Council of State, the realities of government do not allow a ruler’s personal virtue to reform the nation. Instead, rulers are bogged down in tedious bureaucracy. The promised reforms are always delayed through conversations and committee meetings.

Second, the Son notes that the Roman people are not ultimately enslaved by Tiberius: “What wise and valiant man would seek to free / These thus degenerate, by themselves enslaved, / Or could of inward slaves make outward free?” Even if Tiberius is replaced by an Emperor Jesus, Roman citizens will still be slaves to themselves and their desires. They will pursue the same lust, the same greed, and the same lethargy no matter who sits on the imperial throne. The changing political situation will not produce true freedom, nor true virtue. Instead, the citizens of Rome will continue to produce rulers appropriate to their nature. Although Milton does not mention it in his poem, Tiberius’s reign was followed by those of the even more despotic Caligula and Nero.

In these two objections, the Son does not defend Tiberius’s right to rule. He offers no objection to a revolution, but rather reject’s Satan’s argument on practical grounds consistent with Milton’s earlier tracts against tyranny. As Satan has noted, Tiberius is ripe for being overthrown. Yet the Son recognizes that replacing Tiberius will not make Rome great again. As Milton has recently witnessed, a change in rulers does not instantly transform the nation. Parliament overthrew the tyrannical Charles I, yet the English people still returned to the rule of a king whom Milton considers just as tyrannical. Milton has not abandoned his desire to reform his nation, but he is perhaps more skeptical of doing so through top-down policies.

Seeking alternative means of reform, Milton published a small pamphlet modestly titled The Ready and Easy Way to Establish a Free Commonwealth shortly before the restoration of the monarchy. In this pamphlet, he proposes a system of popular government that resists the need for monarchs. Central to his vision is a system of public schools that will teach “all liberal arts and exercises” to “make the people flourishing, virtuous, noble, and high spirited.” Educated citizens, he argues, will be able to think beyond their own needs and desires, and will vote for the good of their local communities and the nation. They will no longer be inward slaves, but instead be free and ready for virtuous rulers.

In Paradise Regained, however, this argument is also put in the mouth of Satan. Granting Christ’s point that the Roman people are not ready to be ruled virtuously, he offers a different kind of power: “Be famous then / By wisdom.” Instead of ruling as a heroic freedom fighter, Satan offers Jesus the role of an influencer or thought leader. He encourages Christ to spend his time studying the Torah, the prophets, and the Greco-Roman liberal arts. By learning the poetic and rhetorical techniques of Rome, Jesus will be able to appeal to gentiles on their own terms. Refuting their beliefs with skillful exegesis and apologetics will allow him to teach true self-control and wisdom. He will then be able to free people as a wise teacher, rather than through imperial power. Education, Satan suggests, will liberate the people and prepare them for self-government. Yet the Son again rejects Satan’s proposal.

He draws upon Ecclesiastes 12:12 to assert that studying good books does not necessarily produce goodness. In fact, for readers who lack “A spirit and judgement equal or superior” to the evaluated books, studying books can become dangerous. Without sufficient judgement, a student remains “shallow in himself” and virtuous books become intoxicating toys that distract from the very liberty they were supposed to promote. We all know someone who is deeply learned, yet does not show Christian love. Knowledge puffs up, writes the apostle.

Christ’s rejection of Satan produces a new problem. If a nation is to be ruled by a virtuous ruler, the people must first be educated in virtue. Yet if a people are to be educated in virtue, they must also first be virtuous. The problem seems tautological. Virtuous people act virtuously, whether reading or ruling. Yet what of the unvirtuous? Satan incredulously asks the Son, “What dost thou in this world?” If Christ is going to participate in the world, Satan suggests, he should seek power to transform that world, productively channeling the strength of the world to reform the unvirtuous. Satan cannot imagine participating in human society without trying to influence others, without using power – whether imperial or pedagogical – to reshape the world.

Paradise Regained rejects this logic, suggesting instead that virtue is private and turns inward. In the poem’s opening invocation, Milton writes: “I who erewhile the happy garden sung, / By one man’s disobedience lost, now sing / Recovered Paradise to all mankind, / By one man’s firm obedience fully tried / Through all temptation.” Drawing upon Romans 5:19, Milton suggests that Christ’s obedience in the wilderness redeems Adam’s disobedience in the Garden. In both temptations, Satan attempts to turn his interlocutor away from obedience. Yet Christ, unlike Adam, resists. How?

For the student of literature, there is a clue in these opening lines. By describing Paradise Lost as a song about “the happy garden,” Milton consciously invokes a tradition of epic poetry stretching back to Virgil. Before setting out to write an epic, the poet is supposed to write a work of pastoral poetry. Just as Virgil wrote the Eclogues before writing The Aeneid, Milton suggests that he wrote the pastoral Paradise Lost before writing the epic Paradise Regained. On the surface, the claim is absurd. Paradise Lost closely follows the formula of classical epic, with dramatic clashes of angelic legions and Homeric duels between archangels during the War in Heaven. Satan gives rousing speeches in armor while shaking a spear and shield, appealing to “the strife of glory.”

Paradise Regained, in contrast, features only dialogue between Satan and the Son alone in the wilderness. And yet Milton writes that this second poem will “tell of deeds / Above heroic, though in secret done.” This new heroism is contrasted with the old, inviting readers to reflect upon their own misguided values. Quiet dialogue and obedience seem less epic and glorious to us, because older epics have taught us to value the exercise of power – martial excellence and verbal prowess. Yet those are not the virtues of Christ. “This is true glory and renown,” says the Son in Paradise Regained, “when God / Looking on the earth, with approbation marks / The just man.” Milton wants his readers to be conscious of this comparison, contrasting the actions of Jesus with those of classical heroes.

This answer may be profoundly disappointing for political theorists looking to reject tyrants and reform nations. No education program will save the day; no acts of rebellion will redeem a nation. Those are the actions of heroes, utilizing the logic of Satan that has been embraced by the “kingdoms of the world.” Wrongs must be set right, evil must be punished, and we must be the ones to act with power. Yet Milton offers a word of caution, as someone who supported a temporarily successful revolution and enjoyed a long and successful career as a public intellectual. Heroic reform will not last unless it is matched with internal transformation and repentance. Rather than confronting wicked rulers, Paradise Regained suggests that reformers should confront their own sins with quiet contemplation and private obedience.

The Son’s situation in Paradise Regained is not precisely analogous to that of a Christian in the twenty-first century. Yet the temptations that Milton presents through Satan remain. A wicked elite enjoying “horrid lusts in private” on a secured island is not uniquely Roman, nor is it difficult to imagine a populace “degenerate, by themselves enslaved” to lust, greed, and other base desires. We should desire reform and the good of our nation. We should humbly work toward that end. Yet the desire for these goods can tempt us to act heroically, seizing the reins of political power or influencing crowds with great learning and rhetorical skill. The Satanic logic of heroism tempts still, just as it did in the first century, and as it did in the seventeenth. But against this logic, the Son offers an alternative vision of humanity and Paradise Regained offers an alternative vision of epic. Not rule, but repentance. Not oratory, but obedience. Not power, but prayer.