
This week, ancient Rome looms large, as we move from January, named for the two-faced god of transitions and doorways, to February, named for the dies Februatus, the purification rites associated with its feast of Lupercalia. In modern times, February is both associated with Valentine’s Day and, relatedly, American Heart Month, concentrating on raising awareness of cardiovascular health.
It is as good a time as any, then, to ponder the devotion to Christ’s Sacred Heart, a central tenet of the Roman Catholic Church.
In a number of writings, such as “Investigabiles Divitias Christi” and “Diserti Interpretes,” penned as the Second Vatican Council came to a close, Pope Paul VI urged a renewal of the devotion to this image as superbly suited to the modern age. In doing so, he drew heavily on his predecessor Pius XII’s earlier reflection “Haurietis Aquas” (1956).
In response to such a charge, Father Pedro Arrupe, S.J., sought to rededicate the efforts of the Society of Jesus to the patronage and spread of the Sacred Heart devotion throughout his time leading the Jesuits. His letters and addresses on this topic have recently been gathered in a book titled “In Him Alone is Our Hope: Texts on the Heart of Christ.”
Father Arrupe acknowledged that many in his day found the devotion, which was first widely advanced by Saint John Eudes and Saint Margaret Mary Alacoque in the 1600s, to be anachronistic, overly sentimental or even repugnant. Yet he argues the “munus suavissimum” (“most pleasant mission”) to animate both the Society of Jesus and the wider Church to contemplate the pierced heart of the savior is among the best ways to express his radical and undying commitment to the human race.
He says, “It is this mystery of divinely human love, symbolized in the Heart of Christ, that the traditional Sacred Heart devotion has endeavored to express, and which it has sought to emphasize, in a world ever more eager for love, ever more in need of comprehension and justice. Between the Word of God and the pierced Heart of Jesus Christ on the cross lies the whole humanity of the Son of God, and the eclipse of sound theological education of that humanity has been one of the reasons which has led to the depreciation of the heart as symbol.”
Christocentric spirituality and ecclesial belonging both then demand a re-appreciation and an apostolic urgency to adapt and develop this reality for meaningful treatment in our present day.
We read in the Scriptures about Jesus’ unambiguous teaching that the merciful will be shown mercy (cf. Mt 5:7; 18:23-33). The mercy demanded of us, and for which we beg the Father, is not simply leniency or clemency, but technically “misericordia”: the sharing in misery (miser) of another’s heart (cor). Thus, in John’s Gospel, Christ is certainly recognized as the eternal Logos (or “Rational Word,” perhaps even “Mind”), but it’s not there that the Beloved Disciple rests his head at the Last Supper. It is rather on the Lord’s merciful breast, as close as possible to his suffering heart.
As Father Arrupe puts it, “More than faith, more than any other sentiment, it is love which transcendentally describes man [sic], and it is also love which comes closest to a definition of God. God is love. … Christ’s heart is the smelting vessel of his love for the Father as Word and as man, and also of his love for mankind.”
He goes so far as to say that the Heart of Christ is an invincible weapon whose power will destroy every evil and unite the human race in fraternal and insuperable bonds of mutual relationship, “a power much greater than atomic energy.” And this from someone who personally survived the Hiroshima blast zone.
As the calendar turns, and our attention moves toward both our sweethearts and our anatomical ones, let us continue, like Mary, to “ponder these things in our heart” (Lk 2:19) and contemplate the pulsating center of our physical and spiritual lives, in whom alone is our hope.
Originally from Collingswood, Michael M. Canaris, Ph.D., teaches at Loyola University, Chicago.














