Today, the Church celebrates the beautiful Solemnity of the Sacred Heart of Jesus — that Heart “which loves so much yet is so little loved,” as Our Lord told St. Margaret Mary. A central feature of this beautiful devotion is offering consolation to the Heart of Jesus. In some mysterious way, the all-sufficient God wills to “need” our weak human love. As incredible as it sounds, we bring comfort to His Heart by spending time with Him and by accepting the Divine love and mercy that so many scorn and reject.

As Passionists, we dedicate our whole lives to “being with” Jesus and consoling Him in His Passion. Since Christ is God and is therefore eternal, all of His actions exist in eternity, and thus we can actually be present to them through prayer. As we accompany Jesus in His sufferings, His Heart is really and truly comforted by our presence and our love. What an awesome mystery!

To help you enter into the spirit of this feast, we’d like to share with you a poem written by the biological sister of one of our Sisters. She composed it during Holy Thursday Adoration several years ago, and it gives a beautiful window into how our poor love can offer consolation to the Heart of Christ as we spiritually enter the mysteries of His Sacred Passion. May it inspire you to set aside some time today to be with the One Who yearns for your love!

Before Judas

by Zoe Krauskopf

He went to the garden
A stone’s throw away
Abandoned in spirit
To pray

His closest were with him
Their eyes sunken deep
He turned back to find them
Asleep

“My friends,” he gasped, shaking with bitter fatigue
”Could you not watch an hour with me?”

He left them again
And I followed this time
For he had love - if not theirs
Then mine

He fell to the earth
And he broke down in tears
That regal, gaunt frame drenched
In fear

“Give me that hour!” I cried from the dark
And in return for your time, take my heart.”

Then time stood still as he stood tall
A broken king, the Lord of all —

Will you catch me if I fall?

His body was sweaty and covered in blood
His weak limbs dragged us down
To the mud

Clutching to that tortured hand
I held the King, too weak to stand
No words, no comfort strong enough for this
Save that which made the world — a kiss

Yes, I kissed the king
As he held my hand and cried
I kissed the king
On the night before he died.