The Sacred Heart of Jesus—for many Catholics, it’s a phrase so common that we might simply rattle it off as part of a prayer, or hear it as the name of a school or a parish, without appreciating its depth.
Pause, though, and we will be struck by the wonder of it: something sacred is something worthy of worship and reverence, something precious. The heart has long been seen as the source of love, the essence of being. The Sacred Heart of Jesus can be seen, then, as the essence of God Incarnate, source of all love, complete and everlasting, undefinably precious—and we are given complete access to this.
The image of the Sacred Heart includes a flaming heart (God’s burning love for us), pierced by a lance (that of the soldier during crucifixion), encircled by the crown of thorns, on a cross, and bleeding (wounded for us).
The Sacred Heart of Jesus was brought to our attention predominantly through visions experienced by St Margaret Mary Alacoque, a Catholic nun and mystic in France in the mid-17th century, when Jesus is believed to have appeared to her several times to remind us all of God’s infinite love for the human race, a love that draws us to reciprocate this love. The devotion was officially made part of the Church calendar in the mid-19th century by Pope Pius IX, as a means to honour God Incarnate, and has remained popular ever since. Just recently, Pope Francis announced that he is writing a document on the Sacred Heart of Jesus to ‘illuminate the path of ecclesial renewal’ and to speak to ‘a world that seems to have lost its heart’.
In the Litany of the Sacred Heart, we hear appeal after appeal to this Heart, seeking its mercy, acknowledging firstly—as with the format of the Our Father—the Heart of Jesus as God, all-powerful and majestic:
Heart of Jesus, infinite in majesty …
Heart of Jesus, holy temple of God …
Heart of Jesus, tabernacle of the Most High …
Heart of Jesus, house of God and gate of heaven …
Then entreating this Heart full of love, the source of goodness and justice, a Heart aflame with love for us:
Heart of Jesus, aflame with love for us …
Heart of Jesus, source of justice and love …
Heart of Jesus, full of goodness and love …
But then, importantly, recognising the cost of this love:
Heart of Jesus, atonement for our sin …
Heart of Jesus, overwhelmed with insults …
Heart of Jesus, broken for our sins …
Heart of Jesus, obedient even to death …
Heart of Jesus, pierced by a lance.
For pure love does not happen without suffering. Any parent or spouse—anyone who has truly loved—will know this. Significantly, the solemnity of the Sacred Heart follows directly from the solemnity of Corpus Christi, a reminder of the cost of love and the extent of God’s love for us. Broken, battered, humiliated, tortured for us—when God proclaims love for us, we can be sure God’s got our backs.
Jesus appeared to St Margaret Mary Alacoque to ensure we are aware of this love, but how do we receive and fully experience it? What might inhibit giving and receiving love?
The symbolism of the image of the Sacred Heart shows that true love involves courage—a willingness not only to have our hearts pierced for the sake of another, but to invest ourselves in relationship, to be vulnerable.
In CS Lewis’ Screwtape Letters, the devil says the ‘safest road to hell is the gradual one—the gentle slope, soft underfoot, without sudden turnings, without milestones, without signposts’. Similarly, it might be said that the safest path to a life devoid of True Love is the gradual closing of our hearts. One small, embedded hurt here, a bit of unforgiveness there, nothing major but enough to create a gentle slope towards an unresponsive, rigid heart.
With life’s struggles and ongoing injustices, we might justify closing our hearts to protect ourselves from further pain—of rejection, of feeling the pain of others. We might find ways of distracting or numbing ourselves to the pain. Until, finally, we find ourselves entrapped in our self-made fortresses, no longer able to experience love.
By pointing to the example of Jesus, the symbolism of the image of the Sacred Heart shows that true love involves courage—a willingness not only to have our hearts pierced for the sake of another, but to invest ourselves in relationship, to be vulnerable with the other, facing headlong the fear of loss, trusting that in all things, God is in control.
Love requires the humility to recognise the weakness of ourselves and others, a determination to hold our will lightly, and an openness to listen deeply to the other. Admitting fault, showing contrition for the wrongs committed, letting go of past hurts all enable us to keep our hearts soft and free, allowing us to reset our hearts, like scrubbing off dead skin reveals soft skin underneath. A soft heart is responsive, receptive, the ‘pores’ open to love and to experience.
Just as the contractibility of the heart muscle affects the flow of blood, the malleability of our spiritual heart affects how easily love flows out of us, and how readily we experience love. Some studies even suggest experiencing love can affect the health of our physical heart, producing lower blood pressure and heart rate.
The feast of the Sacred Heart is an opportunity for a heart check. How easily do we love? How easily do we forgive? Sacred Heart of Jesus, fill my heart with yours.
Banner image: Christ showing his Sacred Heart (detail), colour lithograph, Wellcome Collection, London, via Wikimedia Commons.
