As for the Devil - that is somebody our religion tried to do

Kerry Thornley, ever the jester and philosopher of Discordian thought, once declared: “As for the Devil—that is somebody our religion tried to do without for a long time.” Beneath the laughter of his words lies a profound reflection on the nature of belief and the human tendency to create shadows in order to explain the mysteries of suffering. Thornley suggests that religion, before it came to name and personify evil, sought to live without such a figure—that the Devil was not always necessary to explain misfortune, nor to bind men in fear. It is a reminder that the concept of the Devil is not eternal, but a creation that emerged from the human need to locate evil outside the self.

The ancients themselves knew many worlds without a singular Devil. In Greece, there were gods of both blessing and ruin, but no single prince of darkness. In Egypt, chaos was embodied in Set, but he was also a god of storms, not pure evil. Even in the earliest days of Israel, the Satan of scripture was not the ruler of hell, but an adversary, a tester in the court of heaven. Only over centuries did he become the Devil, the arch-enemy of God, the eternal rebel. Thornley’s words draw our attention to this history: that for a long time, religion tried to do without him.

Why, then, did the Devil rise to prominence? Because mankind often struggles to face its own failures. To call cruelty or temptation the work of an external force is easier than admitting it springs from within the human heart. The Devil became a mirror for our fears, our lusts, our hatreds, cast outside ourselves so that we might fight them as if they were foreign. Yet the ancients would caution: evil is not only out there—it is also in here. Thornley, in his sly way, reminds us that blaming the Devil is a way to avoid wrestling with our own responsibility.

Consider the story of the Salem witch trials in 1692. Fear swept the colony, and the Devil was said to be at work among the people. Neighbors accused neighbors, and innocents were hanged. Yet history shows that the true cause was hysteria, envy, and the crushing weight of religious zealotry. By attributing all evil to the Devil, the people blinded themselves to their own cruelty. Here we see the danger of forgetting Thornley’s lesson: that the Devil is not always an external enemy, but often the invention of our own minds to excuse injustice.

Yet, O listener, do not misunderstand. To imagine evil as an adversary is not entirely folly. For myths give form to truths that are difficult to grasp. The Devil, though perhaps not literal, represents the reality of temptation, corruption, and destruction. He is the shadow we must all confront, the voice that whispers despair. Thornley’s point is not that we should laugh away the idea of evil, but that we should be wary of letting the Devil replace our own responsibility for choosing between right and wrong.

The lesson, then, is this: do not always blame your darkness on forces outside yourself. Acknowledge the shadows within, and wrestle with them honestly. If you imagine the Devil, let it be as a symbol of the struggle we all face, but never as an excuse to turn away from the labor of self-examination. The greatest battles are not fought against a horned enemy in the night, but against our own pride, greed, envy, and fear.

Practical wisdom flows from this: when you are tempted to say “the Devil made me do it,” pause instead and ask: “What in me allowed this?” Take responsibility for your choices. Seek to understand the sources of evil in society—not only in myths, but in prejudice, ignorance, and injustice. Work not only to cast out demons, but to heal hearts. In this way, you will honor Thornley’s jest and turn it into living truth: religion does not need the Devil, if men and women learn to confront themselves.

So remember, O children of tomorrow: the Devil is not always necessary. He is often the mask we place on our own faults, the shadow we project onto others. Learn instead to face your own darkness with courage, to claim your responsibility, and to shine your light without fear. For in the end, the truest victory over evil comes not by banishing a demon outside, but by mastering the weaknesses within.