Dedication duly performed extends its influence over all other devout practices. What fuller source of zeal and confidence can there be than the awareness that we have irrevocably enlisted in the service of Him whose love we venerate, that we have become His subjects?
The very purpose of this work, directed simultaneously toward the glorification of the Sacred Heart of Jesus and the sanctification of the soul, compels us from the outset to earnestly encourage our readers to imprint on all the acts of their lives the mark of dedication to the Divine Heart of Jesus.
Such dedication, as one might easily surmise, cannot be limited to the mere recitation of some formula. In the following chapters, we will attempt to elucidate its meaning and significance, as well as the role assigned to it by our plan.
Dedication to the Most Sacred Heart as a Means of Perfection
§ 1. Perfection Acquired Through Devotion to the Most Sacred Heart.
The Savior, who reduced the entire law to the twofold commandment of love, simultaneously declares without reservation the necessity of complete and universal renunciation. He proclaims that His yoke is sweet and His burden light. Yet to those who wish to follow Him, He commands to forsake all.
Can one not love with one’s whole heart without abandoning everything?
Is dying to all else an indispensable condition for living for God and neighbor?
And is this loss of oneself only seemingly harsh and burdensome?
The enjoyment of pleasures was originally innocent and pure. Nothing in the primordial order of this world reveals to us the necessity or even the utility of suffering. Creatures delighted man without entangling him in any snares. In the same movement, he turned toward them and rose to God. The possibility of an irreconcilable opposition between pleasure and duty, between the glory of this world and the glory of the next, between love of self and creatures and love of the Creator, was excluded.
But sin disrupted this harmony and created in man such oppositions that, in a certain sense, they can rightly be called cruel.
Because man resisted God’s command, such oppositions arose in his nature that he can no longer choose God’s side without, in some way, standing in opposition to himself.
Hence, not only to a few privileged ones with an exceptional calling but to all who desire to follow Him, Christ uttered these stern words: “If any man will come after me, let him deny himself.” (Matt. 16:24.) “He that loveth father or mother more than me is not worthy of me.” (Matt. 10:37.) “If any man come to me, and hate not… even his own life… and whosoever doth not bear his cross… he cannot be my disciple.” (Luke 14:26-27.)
Indeed, how can one be a Christian while ignoring the unyielding nature of duty, not acknowledging the unconditional necessity of believing in God, belonging to Jesus Christ, and observing the entire moral law? And so, with a duty that makes no concessions, with a necessity that always binds, every temporal interest, every good of this world, may enter into conflict, even threatens to do so. Then, the sacrifice of these goods imposes itself on the Christian conscience; and the prospect of such sacrifices, even total ones, can no longer fade from its horizon. To truly desire to be a Christian is to consent, at its core, to martyrdom.
It matters little what circumstances will demand sacrifice: internal temptation, private misfortune, public calamity, or human malice. The external form of the sacrifice—bloody or bloodless, violent or slow, public or hidden—matters little. Struck in our wealth, our good name, our hopes, the health or life of those dear to us, or in our own life, we can only repeat the song of submission that Holy Scripture places in the mouth of the holy man Job: “The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away… blessed be the name of the Lord.” (Job 1:21.)
The mockeries and threats of men, the successes and bold, undeserved triumphs of the sons of this world, scoff at the simplicity of the righteous. No matter—his virtue must confront all manner of assaults.
Can we be surprised that the necessity of such detachment from temporal things grows in proportion to the elevation of supernatural aspirations? One casts off ballast to rise into the air.
The more capital is needed, the higher one wishes to raise one’s spiritual tower. (Cf. Luke 14:28.) Earthly goods are ballast; renunciation is capital.
As soon as the soul feels a true hunger and thirst for justice, it will see in attachment to creatures nothing but chains imposed by the desire for enjoyment. And when it asks, sighing, “Who will give me wings to fly to the place of rest?” (Ps. 55:6), it hears the response: In renunciation of earthly pleasure and satisfaction.
From that moment, its love refuses to tolerate weakening through a division of the heart between God and creatures that might bind it to themselves.
From that moment, it ardently desires to imitate Our Lord Jesus Christ and to reflect His life in itself. And it perceives that He passed through this earth as if unmindful of the goods that adorn it.
From that moment, it longs for merits, prayer, and atonement, desiring to pray and make reparation for itself and others. And in suffering, which it knows is pleasing to God since sin made it beneficial for us, it hastens to draw merits, new power of intercession, and propitiation.
Even the noble concern for one’s own dignity combines with tender gratitude to incline such a soul to offer itself as a total sacrifice. Does not the price of the magnificent gift offered to us also reveal itself in the contempt shown to competing offerings? The ineffable blessing of God makes us His children, heirs of His kingdom, and invites us to share in His happiness! Ashamed of this honor, a soul enamored of God would consider it an affront to its supernatural dignity to beg for base pleasures from creatures.
Is it not in this sense that St. Thomas contrasts natural virtues, which suffice with moderation, with supernatural virtues, which incline us to sacrifice?
The zeal with which the saints tread the royal road of the cross can no longer astonish us. Let us look with sober eyes at the reality of present life, the reality of our future life, and the reality of the life of which Christ is our model. How can we not read in each of them a call to complete renunciation?
Present life is a fleeting shadow, not worth a glance. Future life is a pearl of inestimable value, worth sacrificing all else to acquire. The essence of the third life is the cross; yet, chosen by incarnate Wisdom, this cross signifies, in reality, honor, glory, and happiness.
We must, therefore, die to creatures to love something better than them. Jesus Christ loved us by dying for us. We love Him to the extent that we are ready to die to all other things for Him.
“True love is true pain.”
Christ, therefore, has the right to impose on us His yoke of mortification. But can He call it sweet?
His words are clear and resolute. He proclaims the blessedness attached to all renunciation, to all trials and sufferings.
“Blessed shall you be if you follow my example. Blessed when the world hates you, when it fiercely persecutes you.”
The Apostles confirm the words of the Master. They themselves experienced their truth. Scourged with rods, they depart full of joy, deemed worthy to suffer dishonor for the name of Jesus. They testify that contemporary Christians behave likewise. “Behold, brothers,” cries St. Paul, “what grace God has prepared for the churches of Macedonia! What abundance of their joy amidst countless tribulations.”
The testimony of the Saints is, moreover, unanimous. Which Saint was dejected or unhappy? The severities that terrify us leave them in full delight. They employ every turn of language to confess that “no internal suffering can disturb the inner paradise of a man who has forsaken all for God.” On every page of The Imitation of Christ, we find boldly confirmed the striking saying of Fr. Surin: “It is impossible to describe how happy life is amidst the heaviest tribulations when love and trust have taken possession of the heart.”
For bidding farewell to the goods of this world simultaneously liberates us from all the cares—otherwise inevitable, sometimes so bitter and tormenting.
To this joy, flowing from the sense of inner freedom, there comes to the soul that has renounced all for God an inexpressible consolation from every sacrifice. For in each, it sees a pledge of love for that God whom it loves and henceforth seeks in all things. And for a soul that truly loves, is it not happiness to give proofs of its affection?
And just as it is happiness to labor for the benefit of those we love, so too is it no less happiness to suffer for them. The idle, shirking work, do not understand this, but the man who actively devotes himself to the needs of his loved ones cannot reconcile himself to the thought of idleness.
Moreover, in such a generous soul, there grows and strengthens an ever more fruitful conviction that God permits or demands trials, arduous service, precisely in the name of His love.
A child willingly consents to even a painful operation if a loving mother advises or commands it. But the man who has clung to God places far greater trust in Him than a child in its mother.
Yet the inner life of Jesus explains this mystery to us more directly and fully. Why, even on the cross, was the Man of Sorrows also the happiest of men? Because the beatific vision of God never ceased in His soul.
Now, faith, according to the testimony of the Apostle (Heb. 11:1), is destined to replace vision here on earth. Standing in place of all, it has no need of visions, as St. John Chrysostom expresses it. It gives future goods a certain character of present reality, and thus a foretaste of what they will one day be. When faith develops into hope and is crowned in love, it leads us ahead of time into possession of all that we hope for from God and grants us all the goods that flow from Him to us. The heart of one who abandons all for Jesus Christ rejoices, filled with the light of faith. Faith in him approaches vision. How could it not bring him happiness akin to heavenly bliss?
This same truth can be presented in another way.
Eternal happiness, says St. Thomas, resides in the perfect good that fully satisfies desire. God alone is that good. Either the earth is condemned to know no perfect happiness, or happiness akin to heavenly bliss must be possible on earth. Now, we know that God gives Himself to those who love Him, that through His grace He dwells in their hearts. What do they lack to be happy? They lack the awareness of this presence, the consciousness of this possession. This is a privilege reserved by God for His trusting and generous servants, those who are content with Him and forsake all for Him. Their sacrifice has purified them, and Christ proclaimed blessed those who have a pure heart, for they shall see God. (Matt. 5:8.)
We do not claim to have lifted all the veils concealing from the eyes of ordinary mortals the mysterious happiness of penitents and saints. However, we believe our reasoning suffices to understand the formula expressing their happiness:
“When God takes possession of a soul, the soul also takes possession of God.”
Renunciation is a condition of love, but no less a condition of true happiness. And this love and this happiness grow stronger with renunciation itself. Total renunciation leads to the summit of love and happiness.
Jesus Christ is thus not in contradiction with Himself when He says to us simultaneously: “Love God above all and your neighbor as yourself; in this is the law and the prophets summarized. — Whoever does not renounce all that he has cannot be my disciple. — Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened, and I will refresh you… For my yoke is sweet, and my burden is light.” (Matt. 11:28-30.)
However, this article is not intended to justify the indisputable thesis of Christian self-denial or to unveil the mystery of suffering that brings happiness.
But to those who, not content with appearances, seek true holiness and are therefore determined to enter the only path leading to the goal;
To those who, spurred by holy hatred of themselves, desire to blaze with love for all that is pure, great, and imperishable;
To those whose struggle with their own suspect inclinations prepares them for the most glorious of victories;
To those who resolve to relentlessly pursue self-love in its most winding paths and darkest hiding places;
To those who intend to build Christ upon the ruins of their own self, to lose themselves to find Him, to strip themselves to be clothed in Him;
To those who, living in an age of selfishness, have a desire for sacrifice and generosity;
To those who have enough trust in Our Lord to believe in advance in the sweetness of His yoke and the lightness of His burden;
To all those, in short, who, sated with illusions and evasions, wish to pursue in a straight line the perfection of themselves and sincere service to God;
To all these, we offer the thought of drawing from the Heart of Jesus the GRACE and WILL required for such a lofty undertaking.
GRACE, of which He possesses the fullness.
WILL, for this strong will is drawn only from the source of holy love.
Here are two equally true principles: Christian renunciation requires devotion to the Most Sacred Heart; devotion to the Heart of Jesus cannot do without self-denial.
For is it not self-denial that characterizes the true friends of the Heart of Jesus?
The flame and the cross rising from this Heart, the thorns that encircle it as a crown—do they signify anything other than the love of dedication and sacrifice? The very fact that this devotion demands pure love, that is, effective surrender to this wounded Heart, does it not prove the truth of St. Margaret Mary’s saying: “Pure love is pure pain,” or confirm the law expressed by the author of The Imitation in the formula: sine dolore non vivitur in amore, without pain, one does not live in love?
Read the life of the Saint. To what complete self-denial does Our Lord Jesus Christ lead her? Read carefully those acts of dedication that are the outward expression of the ideal of this chosen soul, as well as the ideal of Blessed Fr. de la Colombière, whom God gave her as a guide. — All the expressions in these acts reduce to two: stripping oneself, forgetting oneself, to live for Christ.
Christian self-denial, for its part, does not consist solely in renunciation. It does not aim at nothingness. False goods are abandoned, however, to cling to true ones. Vanities are despised to better possess the truth. Man empties his heart of mortal things to make room for true life. He loses himself to gain Jesus Christ, to pass into Him, to become like Him according to the eternal decrees of God’s foreknowledge: “Whom he foreknew, he also predestinated to be made conformable to the image of his Son.” (Rom. 8:29.)
If mortification did not lead to Jesus Christ, it would cease to be Christian. And where is Christ more easily found if not in His love, which sums Him up for us: “He loved me,” (Gal. 2:20. Dilexit me.) and in His Heart, which is the symbol of that love?
From these considerations logically follows OUR FUNDAMENTAL IDEA. The great means of perfection is closely tied to the great devotion of these latter times: LET US THEN COMBINE IN OUR LIFE SELF-DENIAL WITH DEVOTION TO THE MOST SACRED HEART.
Devotion to the Most Sacred Heart of Jesus in Practice and Theory
Translated by Fr. Herman Libiński, S.J.
Kraków 1933
Jesuit Fathers Publishing House
Catholic during the Great Apostasy 
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