The Noonday Devil

Three weeks into Lent—we’re not quite half-way through the Fast, but far enough into it for you to have a sense of how it’s going. Some of us never really began the Fast at all, those tell themselves it’s just not for them; some of us started to keep a good Lent, but when their intentions wore thin, they let it go. Some of us are still trying. For the first ten days or so, your stomach made occasional protestations as it mourned the loss of its accustomed foods, but now that’s pretty much past. Whatever the Lenten disciplines are that we’ve chosen, we’ve getting used to them now: we’ve learned our Lenten prayers, we’re setting aside our alms, we’re not too tempted by the rows of Ghirardelli chocolates we pass in the store. We’ve got it under control.

That’s when the noonday devil worms in.

The “noonday devil” is mentioned in Psalm 91: “the devil that walketh at noonday.” The noonday devil saps the fervor of our faith: he leaves behind a dullness of spirit, a lack of energy for the challenges of the Spirit, boredom with the things of God. The noonday devil watches, waits, and creeps up unnoticed. He wants us to feel that “I’ve tried that”—prayer, fasting, almsgiving, forgiving enemies, restraining my tongue, saying my prayers every day, being nice to the co-worker I don’t like, reading the Bible—“but it doesn’t really make a difference. I’m not a saint, you know.”

The noonday devil doesn’t tempt us with sizzling enticements to sin, but with dull, ordinary ones—so ordinary we don’t even notice them; they don’t seem to be temptations at all. We’re not tempted to abandon our Faith, or become apostates from God: all we’re tempted to do is take a long, spiritual nap.

The noonday devil doesn’t strike at us—actually, he doesn’t “strike” at all, he insinuates himself—not only during Lent, but Lent is certainly one of his busiest times. Those who keep the Fast need to guard against his guile more than those who don’t—he’s already bagged the rest. We need to do an occasional spiritual inventory. Am I complacent with my keeping of Lent? Self-satisfied? Do I compare myself with others and secretly congratulate myself on what a good Christian I am? He’s always ready (in season and out) to sidle up to you and suggest what a very exceptional person you are—and most of us are always ready to believe he’s right!

So what do we do about spiritual self-complacency? How do I tweak the nose of the noonday devil?

There’s no need to try and “rev up” our spirits to produce an emotional excitement about our religion or whip up a sense of enthusiasm for our Faith. Our fundamentalist neighbors do just that with their periodic “revivals.” Such things don’t last. They produce a roller coaster sort of spirituality, centered less on my spiritual life than on my feelings.

So what do we do?

We continue. We plod on. We say our prayers when we don’t want to, fast when we want to eat, give when we want to grasp, be kind when we want to snarl. If we determine to do those things, it’s certain we’ll sometimes fail. We’ll skip our prayers now and then, eat what we’ve said we wouldn’t, be selfish when we’ve been given an opportunity to be generous. That’s when our Lenten test really comes. None of us will keep perfect Lents. What matters is what you do when you realize you’ve stumbled. If you “pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and start all over again,” then you’re finding your way to a truly holy Lent. Then you realize you’re not keeping Lent for yourself and your sense of accomplishment. You’re learning humility the hard way (which, incidentally, is the only way it can be learned!).
Against that, the noonday devil has no snare; and your Lent is well-spent.—Fr Gregory Wilcox