Christ set out on his Ministry, convinced that his vocation was to be the Messiah; there was no doubt about it in his mind. Even when faced with the imminent prospect of arrest, trial, conviction, and crucifixion, he did not ask forgiveness for being such a fool as to get into his predicament; he asked to be spared the consequences of his deliberate conduct. All his temptations in the wilderness, which only he can have revealed for the Gospel writers to record, were concerned with his vocation; when he emerged from the wilderness he had no doubt, and the night before he died he had no doubt. When it was all over, that is to say after he had been crucified and if tradition is right been raised from the dead, he had no doubts either; indeed he claimed that all power in heaven and earth had been given to him. By then he should have known the truth, if Christian tradition has anything to be said for it.
Yet viewing history with an impartial eye, like that of H.A.L.Fisher, the historian, he does not seem to have done particularly well, or made good use of his power. A wonderful man who gave the most magnificent example of grace and truth in a human life; yet one who was hopelessly incompetent at organizing anything in the view of his contemporaries, and who rejected the basic understanding that if you want to improve the way society works you need the cooperation of secular men. His Gospel as preached by his disciples was one of personal salvation: a seat at the celestial banquet in another world. This may have been all right while Rome organized the secular world; but it is grossly inadequate when mankind is required to prevent society from degenerating into chaos.
Looking at the situation through Christ’s own eyes, he had first to make sure of his vocation, or at least as sure of it as he could be. No-one is proof against self-delusion. On one view the first and second temptations were whether his vocation was genuine, or wishful thinking. The third, how he was to put this vocation into practice. It is possible he suddenly became aware that he had supernatural power, and that all the temptations were concerned with how he was to use this power, as Professor Seeley, regius professor at Cambridge, suggests. But whichever view is correct, the temptations were about the use, or abuse, of power. Since everything depended on his conviction that his vocation was genuine, and not wishful thinking, my opinion is that his temptations were more to do with his beliefs, than with his intentions. Even to start, he had to be sure of his vocation.
Whether he was right or wrong, he behaved with the most amazing consistency of purpose, once he had begun. So he was evidently satisfied either that it was his vocation, or that his only option was to act in the belief that it was truly his vocation. It was only on the cross that he had the luxury of doubting it; and then it was all over for practical purposes.
Was he right? Judging by the history of the world since, and the fact that no religion compares with his in its nobility, most people’s answer (if they gave an answer) would be “Yes”. That does not mean he was right about everything. And a scientist would say it does not even mean he was right about his vocation; that he was convinced it was genuine is not the same thing as its being genuine. What is truth? Is truth what God says is truth? Is there any truth outside God? Is there an objective truth? I would like to say “No, it is God who is truth”. But what if the voice within, which one thinks is the voice of trained instinct and experience made wiser by the still small voice of conscience, promises and promises, and never fulfils? Is one like Job, who prostrated himself before the Almighty’s lecture; or does one say the voice is somehow false? It is very unwise to enter a world of fantasy.
The decision, whether to opt for a seat at the celestial banquet or play an effective part in the affairs of the world, first came to a head with the downfall of the Roman Empire. In Britain, when “the Legions left”, I understand little was changed, except that Rome washed its hands of Britain just as America did with South Vietnam. Left on its own, Britain became divided into four regions of local government.