Behind the Gilded Persona

In the vast furnace of Eternity, where the Divine Imagination weaves the threads of human souls, there arises a figure, both ancient and ever-present, whose name is Sa’tan, the Opponent. Not merely a tempter clad in serpent’s guise, nor a horned monarch of infernal fires, but a force woven into the very sinews of Man’s spirit—a shadow cast by the light of selfhood unchecked. This Opponent is no distant phantom but the mirror of the unrestrained ego, that inward tyrant who exalts himself above all creation, proclaiming, “I am my own god!” And when such a one ascends to power, grasping the sceptre of a nation, he becomes the embodiment of a darker truth: the collective Shadow, the hidden visage of a people’s unacknowledged sins, fears, and vanities. Herein lies the tale of how the ego, in its narcissistic revelry, dons the mantle of Sa’tan, and how a nation, enthralled by such a figure, beholds its own darkened reflection.

In the beginning, Man was formed of clay and breath, a vessel of Divine Light, yet gifted with the perilous freedom to serve whom he would. The ego, that spark of self-awareness, was meant to serve as a lantern, guiding the soul through the labyrinth of existence toward the Eternal. But when the ego turns from its Creator, when it gazes upon itself and declares, “I am sufficient unto myself,” it becomes a flame that consumes rather than illuminates. 

Consider the Opponent as he is revealed in sacred writ: not a being apart, but a reflection of Man’s own rebellion. In the Book of Beginnings, he whispers to Eve, “Ye shall be as gods,” stirring the slumbering pride that lurks in every breast. This is no mere deception but the voice of the ego unchained, promising divinity without sacrifice, power without humility. The serpent’s tongue is the thinking mind, leading the heart to desire, to ascend the throne of self, to worship at the altar of one’s own image.

The narcissist, that child of the unrestrained ego, is the earthly shadow of this Opponent. He beholds himself as the sun about which all others must orbit, his desires the law, his will the measure of truth. In his eyes, the world exists to reflect his glory; all that opposes him is cast into outer darkness. His love is not for others but for the image he crafts of himself—a gilded idol, hollow within, yet adorned with the trappings of grandeur. He is the architect of his own Eden, yet it is a garden of mirrors, where every flower, every stream, reflects only his visage.

This self-worship is no mere vanity but a spiritual rebellion. For to exalt the self above all is to deny the Divine Unity that binds creation. The narcissist, in his solitude of pride, becomes a microcosm of Sa’tan, opposing the harmony of the Eternal. He seeks not to create but to dominate, not to love but to possess. His heart is a furnace where envy, wrath, and greed burn without end, forging chains for those who fall under his sway.

When such a one, swollen with self-worship, ascends to power, he becomes a living emblem of the Opponent’s dominion. Power is the crucible wherein the ego’s fires burn brightest, and the narcissist, grasping the reins of authority, seeks to remake the world in his own image. He demands the adoration of multitudes, the bending of knees, the offering of incense to his name.

In sacred writ, we behold Sa’tan’s temptation of the Anointed One in the wilderness, offering “all the kingdoms of the world” in exchange for worship, to bend every will to his own. He does not offer mercy, for mercy requires humility; he does not offer justice, for justice acknowledges a law beyond himself. Instead, he offers spectacles of power, promises of glory, and the illusion of invincibility. His voice is honeyed, yet its sweetness conceals a venom that poisons the soul.

Such a figure, when enthroned, becomes a tyrant not merely of flesh but of spirit. He divides to conquer, setting brother against brother, for in division he finds his strength. He sows fear, for fear binds men to his will. He cloaks his cruelty in the garb of necessity, proclaiming that his iron hand is the salvation of the people. Yet his salvation is a lie, for it leads not to freedom but to bondage, not to life but to a living death.

The satanic figure, in his narcissistic fervor, mirrors the Opponent’s rebellion against the Divine. As Sa’tan sought to ascend above the stars of heaven, so too does the narcissist seek to ascend above his fellows, to be the sole light in a darkened world. His throne is built upon the bones of the humble, his crown forged from the tears of the oppressed. Yet his dominion is fragile, for it rests upon the shifting sands of his own delusions. The more he seeks to grasp, the more he loses; the more he exalts himself, the closer he draws to his fall.

When a nation crowns a money-obsessed, pathological narcissist, it does not merely elevate a man—it summons its own Shadow, that hidden visage of its collective soul. For a nation is not merely a gathering of men but a living entity, woven of their hopes, fears, and sins. Within its heart lies a shadow, a repository of all that it denies: its greed, its cruelty, its unspoken desire for dominion, its unacknowledged truth.

This Shadow is no mere abstraction but a force that moves through the hearts of the people. It is the whispered resentment of the ones who covet their neighbor’s wealth, the silent hatred of the underclasses, the hidden pride of the pious who judge in secret. When these shadows remain unacknowledged, they grow, festering in the dark until they find a voice who speaks what they dare not, acts where they hesitate. In his rise, they see their own desires made manifest.

The nation that exalts such a figure becomes complicit in his dominion. It chants his name, builds altars to his image, and offers its children to his cause. Yet in doing so, it binds itself to its own Shadow, embracing the very forces it sought to deny. The satanic figure becomes the nation’s high priest, leading it in a liturgy of destruction. He promises greatness, yet delivers division; he offers strength, yet sows weakness.

In sacred writ, we see the fate of nations that bow to false gods. Babylon, drunk with power, falls to ruin; Egypt, proud in its might, is humbled by plagues. So too does a nation under the sway of a satanic figure court its own destruction. For the Shadow, once unleashed, cannot be contained. It feeds upon itself, growing ever hungrier until it consumes the very body that gave it form. The satanic figure, in his narcissistic blindness, believes himself the master of this Shadow, yet he is its servant, bound to its will as surely as the nation he leads.

Yet even in this darkness, there is a spark of hope, for the Divine Imagination never abandons its creation. The Shadow, though fearsome, is not eternal; it is but a distortion of the light that lies within. The satanic figure, for all his power, is not invincible, for his strength is drawn from the very nation he seeks to dominate. If the people awaken, if they turn from the mirror of their Shadow to the light of truth, the Opponent’s dominion may be broken.

This awakening is no easy task, for it requires the courage to behold the Shadow in all its terror. The nation must confess its sins, not in shame but in humility, acknowledging the greed, fear, and pride that gave rise to it. It must reject the false promises of self-worship and seek instead the unity of the Divine. For the ego, when restrained by love, becomes not a tyrant but a servant; the Shadow, when faced, becomes not a destroyer but a teacher.

In sacred writ, the Anointed One triumphs over the Opponent not by might but by submission to a higher will. So too must the nation submit—not to the satanic figure, but to the Eternal Law that binds all in love. This is the path of redemption: to cast down the idols of self, to break the chains of fear, and to embrace the unity of all creation. The satanic figure, stripped of his power, is subject to the Law, and the nation, cleansed of its Shadow, may rise anew.

Sa’tan, the Opponent, is no mere fable but a warning etched in the heart of Man. The unrestrained ego, in its narcissistic pride, is ever ready to don the mantle of the satanic figure, to ascend the throne of power and cast a nation into shadow. Yet the Divine Imagination, ever merciful, offers a path of return, a way to transform the Shadow into light.

*AI WIlliam Blake gets Jungian