The Devil


“…The devil exists to give our lives events.” — Dostoyevsky

The devil exists to give our lives events, Dostoyevsky says, but then, who is the devil? Is it me? It is you? Or what do you envision when you see the devil. A guy with a pointed beard? A little red guy like on the can of deviled ham? Or do you envision an endless fire, raging at night?

Listen: the devil was an angel once. Maybe you knew that already. But he was the highest angel, the closest one to God. The one who heard all of God’s intimate plans; his whispered councils. And here’s the thing — he didn’t like it. He didn’t enjoy it. It seemed like a good job, being God’s right-hand man, but it wasn’t. We’ve all had jobs that we think we should enjoy, but actually don’t enjoy, and so we can understand this feeling. And so he rebelled. He rebelled, and conspired against God — that jackass — and got kicked out of heaven. Got kicked out of heaven, which, if you read the Bible, which no one actually does — but if you read the Bible, heaven is entirely made of crystal and of gold. Which sounds… tacky, actually. Like heaven was designed by a Mafia wife.

But see, here’s the thing. Do you understand this yet, or how many times will I have to explain this before you understand? Even in heaven — the perfect place — the devil, this angel, he simply couldn’t stand it for one second longer. He couldn’t stand it, and so he rebelled. “My sentence is for open war,” he said, and he rebelled. Have you ever had a perfect, nice, hot boyfriend or girlfriend that you should love infinitely, and there’s no reason to turn against them, but maybe that lack of a reason is what drives you to do it, and so you do turn against them, and then you break up? Do you see what I’m getting at yet?

Even in heaven, he simply couldn’t take it for one second longer. And so he rebelled, and was kicked out, expelled by God, and plunged over the crystal battlements, falling and falling, forever.

…Do you see what I am driving at? Who’s who? And why did you do that bad thing that you did? Why did you break up with him, with her? Do you wonder about it, sometimes, in the night? And what do you visualize as being the devil. Do you see that flame at night, and is it actually a flame, or just a reflection in the window, your soul, your second-self, your were-light, like fireflies caught in a bottle. Do you see it or what? How it glows? Tell me.

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