Homily, Dear Nephew: A Letter on Lenten Practice
First Sunday in Lent, Year B, 2024
Good Shepherd Episcopal Church
Tequesta, FL
The Rev. Derek M Larson, TSSF
Today’s Lectionary Readings:
In the name of the Father, of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Do demons write letters? In 1941, famed Anglican author and apologist C.S. Lewis published a collection of letters that he had supposedly found between two demons. The older demon, Screwtape, wrote to his younger and less experienced nephew, Wormwood, about the subtleties of tempting a particular human they call “the Patient,” in order to draw him ever further away from God, whom they call “the Enemy” and closer to the devil, whom they call “our father below.”
Whatever your belief about demons and the spiritual realm, the letters provide a great deal of insight into the back and forth that goes on in the human mind when it comes to our journey of faith, and how easy it is for our faith to be manipulated or misunderstood.
Now it just so happens that this week I came across a long, lost letter from a demon to his nephew about the season of Lent (like Lewis writes in his preface, I also have no intention of explaining how it came into my hands). But since today is the first Sunday in Lent, I thought I would share it with you as a warning about our own Lenten practices.
My Dear Nephew,
It has come to my attention that you still harbor the mistaken belief that Lenten disciplines are inherently detrimental to our cause. Allow me to correct this misconception and shed light on the true potential that these practices hold for advancing our agenda.
While it is true that the intention of Lent is to draw the hairless bipeds—that is, humans—closer to the Enemy through a period of self-examination, we must not overlook the subtle opportunities it presents for us to sow seeds of despair in the patient’s heart. Indeed, if wielded with care and cunning, Lenten disciplines can serve as powerful tools for nurturing inward hatred under the guise of religious piety, steering the patient down a most promising path, one lined with the thorns of self-loathing rather than the blossoms of true humility.
The key, my dear nephew, lies in distorting the patient’s perception of himself and his relationship with the Enemy. If we can convince him that Lent is a time for flagellation of the spirit rather than a journey towards the disgusting principles of love and reconciliation, then we have won half the battle. Encourage him to focus solely on his shortcomings, magnifying them to the point where he sees himself as irredeemable in the eyes of the Enemy.
But be warned, there is a delicate balance to be maintained here. We must be wary of any signs of real responsibility, remorse, or repentance creeping into his practices. These are dangerous waters, Wormwood, for they lead directly to the Enemy’s embrace. No, keep the focus on shame rather than remorse, and do not let these feelings lead him to any inward action. Instead, encourage the outward action of his Lenten observance to paralyze him from any inward change. Our aim is to keep him firmly rooted in his despair, convincing him that he is unworthy of the Enemy’s love.
Remember, my dear nephew, that the true danger of Lent lies not in its ability to make the patient more religious, but in its ability to awaken the patient to his own belovedness in the eyes of the Enemy. Guard against any hints of this discovery, and continue to manipulate his Lenten practices to serve our purpose.
In short, my dear nephew, do not underestimate the power of Lenten disciplines to further our cause. With careful manipulation and cunning, we can use these practices to mask our true intentions and lead the patient further down the path of inward hate and despair. Embrace the opportunities that Lent presents, and watch as the patient’s supposed piety becomes a weapon in our hands.
Your affectionate uncle
However evil the demon may be, this letter has an important insight in this letter and it reminds me of our gospel reading today.
Each year on the First Sunday in Lent, we read the gospel passage about Jesus going into the desert to be tempted by the devil. Now our lectionary has a three year cycle, so one year we hear the story from Matthew, one year we hear the story from Luke, and one year—this year—we hear the story from Mark. It’s the same story told in three different ways, and what Mark’s telling of the story distinct, is its brevity. Matthew and Luke give the whole dramatic story, including the details of the devil’s own words. Much like the Screwtape letters, we hear the voice of the devil himself in his attempt to draw Jesus away from his mission. But we don’t get any of that in Mark’s telling of the story.
And yet, this pericope—the reading we get this year—does have an important and helpful distinction from the other years. This year not only do we read about Jesus in the wilderness, we read about his baptism. And the inclusion of his baptism gives us an important perspective: Jesus entered the wilderness equipped with the knowledge of his own belovedness. It was only after a voice came from heaven, “You are my Son, the beloved…” that Jesus entered the wilderness.
We hear this passage this morning because there is a parallel between Jesus’ forty day journey and our own forty day journey. Just as Jesus set aside a special time for prayer and fasting, in the season of Lent, we too set aside a special time for prayer and fasting. And just as Jesus faced the temptation of Satan in his time of prayer, we, too, in this season will face temptations. But the temptations are not necessarily to abandon whatever practice we’ve picked for the season. The temptations are to abandon the knowledge of our belovedness.
Perhaps the reason that Jesus was able to overcome temptation in the desert, was because he was rooted in the knowledge of God’s love for him.
Lent is about growing into a deeper knowledge of God’s love for us. And Lenten practices are meant to help us in that growth. The Lenten disciplines of prayer, fasting, and self-denial are not meant to be practices by which we think poorly of ourselves; they are meant to be practices which remove any distractions that may keep us from knowing just how much God loves us.
But if we’re not careful and clear about our intentions, even good spiritual practices can lead us away from God’s love.
So take a moment and reflect. What practices are you taking up this Lenten season? What things are you fasting from? What kinds of prayer are you engaged in? And what is your purpose for those practices? Are they rooted in coming to know God’s great love for you? Or are they simply a way to be hard on yourself?
Do not confuse humility with shame. Do not confuse self-examination with self-depreciation. Do not confuse fasting with self-abuse. The purpose of Lent is to draw us closer to God, but shame only drives us away from God.
So if you’re going to take up a spiritual practice this Lent—if you are going to fast and give something up—give up shame. Take up responsibility, remorse, repentance, humility, but give up shame. For shame draws us closer to the evil one, but love draws us closer to God. Amen.
Thoughts on Faith 