My dear friends, 

Most of us remember the story of “The Wizard of Oz.”  

Dorothy needed a home. The Scarecrow wanted a brain. The Cowardly Lion wanted courage. And the Tin Man wanted a heart. 

For generations, children have watched that story unfold. They have laughed and cried and followed the yellow brick road. But as I was reflecting on the Feast of the Sacred Heart of Jesus, I found myself thinking about that Tin Man. Because when I look at our world today, I cannot help but wonder if we have become a little like him. Not made of tin. Not standing in a field. But somehow missing a heart.  

Something feels absent in our world. We have more knowledge than any generation in history, yet we seem less wise. We have more ways to communicate, yet we are lonelier than ever. We have more wealth, more entertainment, more technology, more conveniences, more comforts – and yet there is a growing emptiness that seems to haunt modern life.  

Something is missing. We see it in broken families. We see it in children who grow up without security. We see it in the elderly who are forgotten. We see it in the unborn who are denied the very right to live. We see it in the bitterness, the anger, the division, and the coldness that seem to surround us.  

We have become a people who know how to speak, but have forgotten how to listen. A people who know how to demand rights, but have forgotten how to offer sacrifice. It is as though our world is suffering from a spiritual heart disease. And perhaps that is why the Feast of the Sacred Heart is so very important. 

Because the answer to a world that has lost its heart is the Heart of Jesus Christ. 

The Sacred Heart is not merely a beautiful devotion. It is not merely a picture hanging on a wall. It is not merely a feast day on the Church calendar. The Sacred Heart is God’s answer to the tragedy of the human heart. For the Scriptures tell us that the deepest problem of humanity has always been a problem of the heart. 

Again and again, God calls His people. Again and again, He stretches out His hands. Again and again, He invites them into covenant, into love, into communion with Him. And again and again, humanity turns away. 

The prophets were sent. The people would not listen. Warnings were given. The people would not hear. Mercy was offered. The people would not receive it. And finally, God Himself came among us. Not as a conqueror. Not as a king surrounded by armies. Not as a ruler demanding submission. But as a Savior whose Heart burned with love for His people.  

Yet even then, many refused Him. 

There is a very sad moment in the Gospel when Our Lord stands overlooking Jerusalem. He sees the city He loves. He sees people He came to save. He sees the suffering that lies ahead. And He cries out: 

“Jerusalem, Jerusalem, thou that killest the prophets, and stonest them that are sent unto thee, how often would I have gathered together thy children, as the hen doth gather her chickens under her wings, and thou wouldst not.” 

Notice those words. 

Not “I could not.” Not “I was unable.” Not “I did not care.” But: “I would have gathered you. And thou wouldst not.”  

Those words reveal the sorrow of the Sacred Heart. They reveal a God who loves. A God who calls. A God who waits. A God who longs to gather His children to Himself. And yet a God who respects human freedom so deeply that He allows Himself to be rejected.  

My brothers and sisters, that cry over Jerusalem, and over the world, has never ceased. The Sacred Heart still looks upon the world. The Sacred Heart still looks upon families. The Sacred Heart still looks upon nations. And perhaps even now He says: 

How often I would have gathered you. How often I would have healed you. How often I would  have forgiven you. How often I would have strengthened you. How often I would have protected you. And yet, so often, thou wouldst not. 

The Feast of the Sacred Heart reminds us that the greatest tragedy in the world is not that God has stopped loving. The tragedy is that so many have stopped listening. 

The Heart of Jesus still burns. The Heart of Jesus still calls. The Heart of Jesus still invites. The question is whether we will answer. 

As we approach this feast, there are calls for consecrations and prayers and devotions. But we must remember that the Sacred Heart seeks more than words. He seeks hearts. He seeks conversion. He seeks repentance. He seeks love. 

For what good is it to consecrate ourselves to the Sacred Heart if we refuse to allow the Sacred Heart to reign within us? What good is it to honor His image while ignoring His voice? What good is it to recite prayers if we continue to keep Him outside the door of our hearts? 

The Sacred Heart is not looking for ceremony alone. The Sacred Heart is looking for surrender. And perhaps that is why this feast matters so much today. Because we live in a world that is losing heart. 

Many people are discouraged. Many people are exhausted. Many people are frightened. Many people feel abandoned. Many have simply lost heart. 

And to them the Sacred Heart says: Do not lose heart. Come to My Heart. Rest in My Heart. Find refuge in My Heart. Find strength in My Heart. Find peace in My Heart. 

For the Heart of Jesus remains the one place in this world that never ceases to love. 

The world may grow cold. The Heart of Jesus remains on fire. The world may forget mercy. The Heart of Jesus remains full of mercy. The world may reject truth. The Heart of Jesus remains truth itself. The world may lose its heart. But the Heart of Jesus remains open. 

And perhaps that is the invitation of this great feast. Not simply to admire the Sacred Heart. Not simply to speak about the Sacred Heart. But to allow our hearts to be transformed by the Sacred Heart. To let Him give us a new heart. Because the answer to a heartless world is not found in politics, wealth, technology, or power. It is found in the Heart of Jesus Christ. 

My dear friends, there is a reason that the Sacred Heart has always been depicted as wounded. We often focus on the flames. We focus on the love. We focus on the mercy. But we must never forget the wound. The Heart of Jesus is shown pierced. Why? Because love makes itself vulnerable. 

The Sacred Heart is not merely the symbol of God’s power. It is the revelation of God’s love. And love is willing to suffer. Love is willing to be rejected. Love is willing to be misunderstood. Love is willing to be betrayed. 

The Sacred Heart teaches us that the deepest wounds in life do not come from enemies. They come from those we love.  

Consider Our Lord. Judas was not a stranger. The people of Jerusalem were not strangers. They were His own. And yet they rejected Him.  

My brothers and sisters, it is important to remember that the deepest wounds suffered by Our Lord often came not from those outside the covenant, but from those within it. This should cause all of us to examine ourselves with humility, especially in these times when many faithful Catholics experience sorrow over confusion, division, and uncertainty within the life of the Church.  

We love the Church because she is the spotless Bride of Christ, the Ark of Salvation, and our Mother. Yet whenever truth is obscured, whenever error is tolerated, whenever the faithful are left confused rather than strengthened, it is not merely the people of God who suffer. The Sacred Heart suffers. For Christ loves His Church more than we ever could. He shed His Precious Blood for her. He entrusted to her the fullness of truth. And when souls are led into confusion, when clarity gives way to ambiguity, when fidelity to the Gospel is weakened, the wound is felt first in the Heart of the Good Shepherd. 

The same Heart that wept over Jerusalem still grieves when His flock is scattered, discouraged, or left vulnerable to error. Therefore, our response must not be anger or despair, but prayer, reparation, and an even deeper fidelity to the truth entrusted to the Church by Jesus Christ.  

The sorrow of the Sacred Heart is not only the sorrow of Calvary. It is the sorrow of every rejected invitation. Every ignored grace. Every abandoned truth. Every soul that turns away from the love that created it. 

This is why devotion to the Sacred Heart has always included reparation. That word has largely disappeared from modern vocabulary. Yet it remains central to understanding the Sacred Heart. Reparation is not about adding something to Christ’s sacrifice. His sacrifice is perfect. Rather, reparation is our response of love to Love.  

It is our way of saying: “Lord, I cannot undo the sins of the world, but I can love You.” “I cannot repair every wound, but I can console Your Heart.” “I cannot change the whole world, but I can offer my prayers, sacrifices, and fidelity.” 

When Our Lord appeared to St. Margaret Mary, He revealed a Heart burning with love and wounded by indifference. How striking that is. Not simply wounded by hatred. Not simply wounded by blasphemy. But wounded by indifference. Perhaps because indifference says something particularly painful. Indifference says: “I do not care.”  

Hatred at least acknowledges the existence of the one hated. Indifference pretends he does not matter. And is this not one of the great temptations of our age? Not outright rejection. Not open persecution. But indifference.  

Many souls are not actively fighting against God. They simply have no room for Him. There is room for work. Room for entertainment. Room for hobbies. Room for politics. Room for sports. Room for endless distractions. But little room for Christ. 

The tragedy is not always that people hate God. The tragedy is often that they forget Him. And perhaps that is why the image of the Sacred Heart remains so powerful. It refuses to let us forget. It stands before us and reminds us that Christianity is not merely a philosophy. It is not merely a moral system. It is a relationship with a living Savior whose Heart burns with love for His people. 

My brothers and sisters, I sometimes wonder if one of the greatest dangers facing Christians today is not persecution. Many have simply lost heart. Perhaps you know what that feels like.  

You pray and do not see the answer you hoped for. You struggle and wonder if your efforts matter. You look at the world and see confusion. You look at the Church and see wounds. You look at your family and see suffering. You look at your own life and see failures. And slowly, almost imperceptibly, you begin to lose heart. 

The phrase itself is revealing. To lose heart. As though the very center of who we are begins to weaken. As though hope itself begins to fade. And yet throughout Scripture, God repeatedly tells His people not to lose heart. 

Why?  

Because discouragement has the power to paralyze the soul. A discouraged souls stops fighting, stops hoping, and stops trusting. The devil knows he does not always have to destroy faith. Sometimes he only needs to exhaust it. And that is why the Sacred Heart is so important. 

The Sacred Heart reminds us that Christ has not lost heart. Despite centuries of rejection. Despite countless betrayals. Despite indifference and sacrilege. Despite every sin committed against Him. His Heart still burns. His love has not diminished. His mercy has not weakened. His invitation has not been withdrawn. The Sacred Heart remains open. 

That is extraordinary when you think about it. Human beings often stop loving when they are wounded. We withdraw. We protect ourselves. We build walls. We become cautious. We become bitter. Yet Christ does the opposite. The more He is wounded, the more His mercy pours forth. The lance pierces His side, and blood and water flow out. The wound becomes a fountain. The injury becomes a source of healing. The pierced Heart becomes a refuge.  

What a mystery.  

The very wound becomes the doorway through which grace enters the world. And perhaps that is a lesson for all of us. Many people listening today carry wounds. Some carry wounds from childhood. Somefrom betrayal. Some from illness. Some from loneliness. Some from grief. Some from disappointments that never healed.  

The temptation is to let those wounds harden the heart. To become cynical. To become bitter. To stop trusting. To stop loving. But the Sacred Heart teaches another way. The Heart of Jesus was wounded, but it never became hard. It remained tender. It remained merciful. It remained loving. And that may be one of the greatest miracles of all.  

My dear friends, as we approach this great feast, let us ask ourselves an honest question. What condition is my heart in? Has it become distracted? Has it become cold? Has it become wounded? Has it become fearful? Has it become indifferent? Has it become discouraged? Have I lost heart?  

And if so, let us bring that heart to Jesus. For the Feast of the Sacred Heart is ultimately not about His need. It is about ours. Christ does not reveal His Heart because He lacks something. He reveals His Heart because we do. We are the ones who need healing. We are the ones who need mercy. We are the ones who need courage. We are the ones who need hope.  

The Sacred Heart is God’s answer to the deepest ache of the human soul. A world searching for love finds the Sacred Heart. A weary soul searching for rest finds the Sacred Heart. A sinner searching for mercy finds the Sacred Heart.  

And so, as this feast approaches, let us not merely admire the Sacred Heart from a distance. Let us enter into it. Let us make our home there. Let us bring our fears there. Let us bring our wounds there. Let us bring our families, our nation, and our Church there. For there is no safer refuge in this world than the Heart of Jesus Christ. 

The world may have lost its heart. But the Sacred Heart has not ceased to love. And the Heart that wept over Jerusalem still calls to us today. “How often would I have gathered thee.”  

May we never answer, “I would not.” Instead, may we answer with our lives: “Lord, gather me.” “Lord, heal me.” “Lord, change me.” “Lord, make my heart like unto Thine.” 

And may the Sacred Heart of Jesus reign in our hearts, in our homes, in His Church, and in the whole world. 

Sacred Heart of Jesus, have mercy on us. 

May Almighty God bless you, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen. 

Bishop Joseph E. Strickland 
Bishop Emeritus