The last one by Martin Scorsese made cinematic history and the plot by Nikos Kaza­n­tzakis, where Christ on the cross succumbs to the whispering of a lady demon claiming to be his guardian angel, scandalised conservative Christians worldwide.

Stained glass depicting The Temptation of Christ by the Devil in the cathedral of Strasbourg, France. Photo: Jorisvo/Shutterstock.com

But the first one, found in the gospels of Mark, Matthew and Luke, which supposedly took place in the Judean desert, is one of the stories of the New Testament most widely depicted in paintings, probably because of its high drama.

It was an amicable encounter between good and evil before the beginning of hos­tilities. A last ditch attempt by Satan to dissuade Jesus from his mission, one might say.

Satan is always portrayed as a terrible humanoid with horns, tail and hooves, or wrapped in a large dark mantle, face cover­ed by a cowl, and some­times supported by vile minions.

One of my favourites is the masterpiece by our own Willie Apap, even though I completely disagree with his erroneous depiction of the king of darkness.

Some might find it strange that an atheist like me gives so much credence to a story he considers pure fantasy.

Granted. But I have always been fascinated by mytho­logies, because these stories, though not necessarily real, always reveal some profound truth about the human psyche or condition.

If I were to be ‘tempted’ to paint this early episode in the life of the rebel from Nazareth, the Devil would be anything but scary, because no seducer ever reveals his true self to his victim – or the game for him would be up before it has even started.

The sort of devil we should be concerned about is not some alien reptilian creature that comes from a fiery planet to destroy humanity as in science fiction movies, nor the master of witches brewing male­dictions on innocent victims as in fairy tales reminiscent of the Middle Ages.

It is something much more real and closer to home, and this is where religions have failed miserably and continue to do so, by feeding their flocks mytholo­gical creatures instead of calling it for what it is: an upset in balance that leads to chaos in our minds – as a result of greed. Wanting more than we actually need.

So if I were to paint the ‘devil’, I would represent him as a slick accounts executive, meticulously groomed, in a well-pressed suit, immaculate shirt, well-knotted tie, highly polished shoes and with a clean handkerchief jutting out of his breast pocket.

It is greed, not money, that is the root of all evil. In the past three years we have witnessed many a high-profile and presumably upright citizen falling for this unnatural mother of all capital sins and becoming the worst role models possible to the rest of us

A glorified salesman, hiding his real intention behind a painted smile of fake friend­liness, to make you part with your money and make a fat profit for himself.

This is the modern equivalent of the devil, whose glitzy domain is the great cor­porations with their glittering towers of Babylon, and whose ravenous greed generates an ocean of waste that will certainly lead humanity to its ultimate perdition.

No wonder the Muslims consider the decadent capitalist West the kingdom of Xaitan. All level-headed people would do well to heed their warning, even if they shun their violent methods of salvation.

An ultra-capitalist, pro-business policy at all costs completely ignores the distri­bution of the nation’s wealth in favour of the rich. The end justifies the means, and well-being and affluence are traded in for moral health.

The problem with Christ’s temptation lies not in the proposals made by the execu­tive from hell, because there was actually no intrinsic evil in them: power to save all kingdoms of the world, food for stones to feed the hungry multi­tudes, and an innocent bet between super­beings to con­vince humanity of Christ’s godly powers.

But behind it all, there was a catch. This budding politician, meditating on his new career, was being tempted to exchange his principles and his con­science for unlimited power to perform good deeds.

Should he have given in?

I would tend to agree with the unknown savants who wrote this story in the Gospel and say no. No amount of well-being is worth giving in to slavery, even if its chains are made of gold.

Before the last election, we found ourselves lost in the shifty desert of dubious governance and our parched souls were mesmerised by the lure of sweet words promising the fragrant taste of clean leadership, meritocracy and universal brotherhood. Only to find that all this was nothing but a cruel mirage that disappeared as soon as we thought it was within reach, conjured up by a cunning business consortium whose smiling front man must surely have been aware of the intentions of those closest to him. Because one week after gaining power they were already opening secret companies and accounts in havens favoured by international criminals, arms smugglers and drug traffickers.

But let’s give him the benefit of the doubt and say that he was unaware of the scandal that was to erupt later with such violence, known as the Panama Papers. If that is the case, if he was so dismally led by the nose and continues to defend to the hilt shady characters from whom even his own ministers have distanced themselves, then he is anything but a capable leader.

It is greed, not money, that is the root of all evil. In the past three years we have witnessed many a high-profile and pre­sumably upright citizen falling for this unnatural mother of all capital sins and becoming the worst role models possible to the rest of us. It reminds me of another movie, Take the Money and Run, by Woody Allen.

It is dangerous and immature to be fooled by gifts from those who have ulterior motives.

Anyone who seeks support through money instead of conviction must be aspiring for greater profit for himself, and in that sense is surely an agent of the devil.

No, I can assure readers I haven’t become religious all of a sudden! I don’t mean that fake, supernatural demon with horns and hoofs, conjoured up in sacred fairy tales, but the very real and physical wolves in sheeps’ clothing: those slick, well-spoken, smiling salesmen, who promise cardboard hea­vens while secretly, deceptively, following their own private agendas to satisfy their insatiable greed... at all costs.