The devil is a master of logic.  Not real logic, mind you, but the kind that sounds absolutely reasonable in the moment – the kind that makes you nod your head and think, “Well, when you put it that way…” I learned this the hard way about 19 years ago, when I nearly left the priesthood. And let me tell you, it wasn’t some specific dramatic crisis of faith that hit me all at once. No, the devil is far more subtle than that. He’s patient. Methodical. He knows that the journey from faith to doubt often begins with a single, seemingly innocent step.

A heartfelt thank you for taking the time to read this homily for the FIRST SUNDAY OF LENT (March 9, 2025). Your support means a great deal to me, and I’m deeply grateful for the many who share these messages with their friends, families and social media followers. If you’ve found meaning in these words, I’d be grateful if you’d share them with others who might benefit.

And for those who prefer listening, you can find the audio version on SoundCloud HERE or subscribe to the podcast on iTunes HERE. Your comments, messages, and the way you’ve embraced these homilies continue to inspire me.  Sincerely in Christ -Father Jim

It started small for me, as these things always do. Missed morning prayer here. A skipped holy hour there. The kind of things you can easily explain away: “I’m too tired tonight” or “I’ll make it up tomorrow.” I was angry about things happening in my parish and the broader Church – legitimate concerns, mind you, but I let that bitterness take root. Then one day, I saw an FDNY recruitment ad. “You must not reach your 29th birthday by the close of the Application period.” That one line just captured my mind’s attention:  I had exactly one month to spare before that cutoff. A childhood dream of becoming a firefighter suddenly flickered back to life.

The devil’s logic started working overtime. “What’s the harm in just cutting out the ad?” I thought. “You’re not doing anything wrong by looking at it.” Then: “It’s only $25 to apply – that’s less than dinner out.” Later: “Taking the written test doesn’t mean anything. It’s good to keep your options open.” Each step seemed so innocent, so logical. When I aced the physical test, outperforming even some of the most athletic candidates, the rationalizations grew stronger. “God gave you this physical ability for a reason, didn’t He?” But here’s what I couldn’t see then: I was breaking my sacred promises to God, one small “logical” step at a time.

This is exactly why today’s Gospel from Luke holds such power. Think about it – the devil was audacious enough to tempt Jesus Himself. After forty days of fasting and not the Catholic lite version of only one meatless meal and two smaller meals not equal to the one meal – but 40 days of fasting from all food in the desert, when Jesus was at His most physically vulnerable, Satan appeared with his twisted logic. “You’re hungry, aren’t You? You’re God’s Son – why not turn these stones to bread?” It seemed so reasonable, so simple. After all, Jesus had turned water into wine at Cana – how different was this, really?

But Satan wasn’t done. He showed Jesus all the kingdoms of the world and said, “You want to change the world? I can make You a king right now. No need for all this suffering and service. Think of all the good You could do with that power!” When that failed, he tried again: “Jump from the temple height – imagine the followers You’ll gain when they see God’s angels rescue You! Isn’t that a more efficient way to prove You’re the Messiah?” Each temptation was crafted to sound perfectly logical, targeting Jesus’ mission and identity.

If Satan dared to tempt Christ with such seemingly reasonable proposals, imagine how eagerly he pursues us. The married person who falls into infidelity never wakes up one morning planning to destroy their family. It starts with “just coffee with a friend.” Then it’s “innocent” text messages. “We’re just close colleagues.” Each step seems logical until they’re in so deep they can barely remember how they got there.

The student who becomes a habitual cheater begins with “everyone does it once” or “this test isn’t even important.” The person struggling with addiction first hears “it will help you relax – just this once” or “you’ve had a rough week, you deserve this.” A businessman gradually cooking the books starts with “it’s just a temporary adjustment to help cash flow… it will never happen again.”

This is why Lent begins by confronting this ancient enemy head-on. We need to recognize Satan’s strategy: those small compromises, those “harmless” white lies, those tiny steps away from virtue. “Don’t be such a prude,” he whispers. “What’s the worst that could happen?” “Times have changed – the Church needs to get with the program.” “God wants you to be happy, right?” Each rationalization is a crack in our spiritual armor, making us gradually comfortable with living less noble lives.

I hear it in the confession all the time – people who never imagined they’d end up where they are, looking back and finally seeing that trail of “logical” decisions that led them astray. The devil doesn’t need you to jump straight into mortal sin. He’s perfectly happy to lead you there one venial sin at a time, each step perfectly rationalized, each compromise seemingly reasonable.

But here’s the beautiful truth that shatters all of Satan’s careful logic: we have a Savior whose love defies all rational explanation. Christ’s sacrifice on the cross wasn’t logical – it was pure, transformative love. What kind of logic would lead the Son of God to suffer and die for sinners? What kind of reason can explain the Creator of the universe allowing Himself to be mocked, scourged, and crucified by His own creatures? This is love that transcends all human understanding.

And that same Christ stands ready to defeat Satan in our lives, especially through the Sacrament of Reconciliation. When we recognize how we’ve been deceived and turn back to Him in confession, His love and mercy overwhelm all of Satan’s twisted logic. No sin is too great, no rationalization too deep, no path too far gone for His mercy to reach.

As we journey through these forty days of Lent, let’s stay vigilant. Let’s recognize those seemingly logical whispers for what they really are: invitations to step away from God’s love. Instead, let’s follow Christ alone, whose illogical, incredible love conquers all rationalization and leads us home to the Father. Let’s remember that the path to holiness isn’t about following logical arguments – it’s about following Jesus, even when – especially when – it doesn’t make sense to the world.

Because in the end, love – true, divine love – has never been about logic. It’s about sacrifice. It’s about commitment. It’s about choosing God’s way over our carefully constructed rationalizations. This Lent, let’s choose love over logic, faith over rationalization, and Christ over comfort.