Pope Pius XI wished to ground this particular devotion in the realization that the mystery of our redemption by Christ’s passion transcends, by God’s grace, all boundaries of time and space. On the cross, Jesus offered himself for all sins, including those yet to be committed, including our own sins. In the same way, the acts we now offer for his consolation, also transcending time, touch his wounded heart. “If, because of our sins too, as yet in the future but already foreseen, the soul of Jesus became sorrowful unto death, it cannot be doubted that at the same time he derived some solace from our reparation, likewise foreseen, at the moment when ‘there appeared to him an angel from heaven’ ( Lk 22:43), in order that his heart, oppressed with weariness and anguish, might find consolation. And so even now, in a wondrous yet true manner, we can and ought to console that Most Sacred Heart, which is continually wounded by the sins of thankless men”. 156Encyclical Letter Miserentissimus Redemptor (8 May 1928): AAS 20 (1928), 174.
It might appear to some that this aspect of devotion to the Sacred Heart lacks a firm theological basis, yet the heart has its reasons. Here the sensus fidelium perceives something mysterious, beyond our human logic, and realizes that the passion of Christ is not merely an event of the past, but one in which we can share through faith. Meditation on Christ’s self-offering on the cross involves, for Christian piety, something much more than mere remembrance. This conviction has a solid theological grounding. 157The believer’s act of faith has as its object not simply the doctrine proposed, but also union with Christ himself in the reality of his divine life (cf. SAINT THOMAS AQUINAS, Summa Theologiae, II-II, q. 1, a. 2, ad 2; q. 4, a. 1). We can also add the recognition of our own sins, which Jesus took upon his bruised shoulders, and our inadequacy in the face of that timeless love, which is always infinitely greater.
We may also question how we can pray to the Lord of life, risen from the dead and reigning in glory, while at the same time comforting him in the midst of his sufferings. Here we need to realize that his risen heart preserves its wound as a constant memory, and that the working of grace makes possible an experience that is not restricted to a single moment of the past. In pondering this, we find ourselves invited to take a mystical path that transcends our mental limitations yet remains firmly grounded in the word of God. Pope Pius XI makes this clear: “How can these acts of reparation offer solace now, when Christ is already reigning in the beatitude of heaven? To this question, we may answer in the words of Saint Augustine, which are very apposite here – ‘Give me the one who loves, and he will understand what I say’. Anyone possessed of great love for God, and who looks back to the past, can dwell in meditation on Christ, and see him labouring for man, sorrowing, suffering the greatest hardships, ‘for us men and for our salvation’, well-nigh worn out with sadness, with anguish, nay ‘bruised for our sins’ ( Is 53:5), and bringing us healing by those very bruises. The more the faithful ponder all these things the more clearly they see that the sins of mankind, whenever they were committed, were the reason why Christ was delivered up to death”. 158PIUS XI, Encyclical Letter Miserentissimus Redemptor (8 May 1928): AAS 20 (1928), 174.
Those words of Pius XI merit serious consideration. When Scripture states that believers who fail to live in accordance with their faith “are crucifying again the Son of God” (Heb 6:6), or when Paul, offering his sufferings for the sake of others, says that, “in my flesh I am completing what is lacking in Christ’s afflictions” (Col 1:24), or again, when Christ in his passion prays not only for his disciples at that time, but also for “those who will believe in me through their word” (Jn 17:20), all these statements challenge our usual way of thinking. They show us that it is not possible to sever the past completely from the present, however difficult our minds find this to grasp. The Gospel, in all its richness, was written not only for our prayerful meditation, but also to enable us to experience its reality in our works of love and in our interior life. This is certainly the case with regard to the mystery of Christ’s death and resurrection. The temporal distinctions that our minds employ appear incapable of embracing the fullness of this experience of faith, which is the basis both of our union with Christ in his suffering and of the strength, consolation and friendship that we enjoy with him in his risen life.