The Flame They No Longer See

Ordained beneath the dome of St. Peter’s, a new priesthood walks past the Sacred Heart without turning.

On the Solemnity of the Sacred Heart, a feast once throbbing with images of reparation, sacrifice, and mystical union, Leo delivered a warm, tear-tinged pep talk. The occasion was the ordination of priests during the Jubilee of Priests. And yet what should have been a moment of gravity, awe, and sacred distinction was flattened into the predictable horizontality of the postconciliar gospel: unity, fraternity, accompaniment, inclusion. Love as therapy. The priest as wounded life coach.

The homily opened with the familiar gesture: “Before being shepherds, we are sheep.” Of course. The post-Vatican II Church recoils from the notion that a priest acts in persona Christi Capitis. The minister is not primarily a sacred man set apart, but a fellow pilgrim stumbling alongside us on the way to “healing.” Leo’s version of the Sacred Heart is not the consuming fire of divine charity but a kind of divine group hug: warm, emotive, and nonjudgmental.

The Priesthood as Psychodrama

The hallmark of Leo’s theology is what might be called emotional priesthood. Priests are told to enter “the vast and deep inner chamber” of memory, to feel consumed by mercy, and to offer a “great exchange of love.” He quotes Pope Francis approvingly: “the wounded side of Christ continues to pour forth that stream… to all those who wish to love as he did.” What does this mean concretely? There is no mention of sin as an offense against God. No mention of Hell. No “zeal for souls.” Only a vague hope that people will “come to know Christ” through kindness, hospitality, and interpersonal warmth.

And what of the priest’s role? He is no longer a soldier in the Church Militant. He is a reconciler of inner tensions, a psychological mediator tasked with harmonizing diverse “fragments” of people’s lives. In Leo’s words, the priest is called to be a “builder of unity and peace” by helping others “rise above immediate emotions” (a strange instruction from someone whose theology is governed almost entirely by emotion).

But the climax of absurdity is reached in the closing instruction to ordinands: “Give freely of your time… without reserve and without partiality, as the pierced side of the crucified Jesus teaches us to do.” The Sacred Heart is not treated as a symbol of divine justice and mercy, of sin redeemed through sacrifice, but as a vaguely inspirational metaphor for radical availability. A therapist-on-call with holy orders.

A Priesthood Without the Cross

The Sacred Heart of Jesus is, historically, a devotion rooted in expiation. Pius XI declared that it “demands from us a return of love, including acts of reparation for our ingratitude and infidelity.” But Leo XIV has inverted this. In his message to priests, he speaks of the Sacred Heart not as a font of justice or a call to reparation, but as a mystical couch for emotional healing. “In him,” he claims, “we learn to relate to one another in wholesome and happy ways.” This is a humanistic gospel, not the Catholic one.

Gone are the stern reminders of judgment. Gone is the need to suffer with Christ. Gone is the priest’s sacred duty to “offer the Holy Sacrifice for the living and the dead.” The Mass becomes a communal celebration of mutual care, where no one is left out; except, of course, the traditions of the Church.

We are being sentimentalized rather than sanctified.

Vatican II, Always Vatican II

In case anyone forgot which Council governs this pontificate, Leo XIV cites Lumen Gentium and Presbyterorum Ordinis multiple times, always selectively. There’s a passing nod to the Eucharist as the “source and summit” of the Christian life, but it serves only to reinforce the priest’s horizontal mission of social harmony. Even Augustine is weaponized for this end. “With you I am a Christian,” Leo quotes, without explaining that Augustine preached the necessity of discipline, doctrinal clarity, and spiritual warfare against heresy. He was not interested in therapeutic ministry. He was interested in truth and salvation.

But truth is not the currency of this pontificate. Sentiment is.

The Sacred Heart or the Synodal Heart?

This priestly Jubilee homily is the latest proof that Leo XIV, like his predecessor, is not offering Christ crucified. He is offering Christ synodal. A heart not pierced for sin but opened for feelings. A ministry not ordered toward Calvary but toward consensus. A sacrament not offered as sacrifice but as symbol of community.

It is difficult to avoid the conclusion that the Novus Ordo priesthood is being repurposed into a global workforce of synodal facilitators; pastoral brokers of a gospel without dogma and a Church without combat. There is no call to confront error. No warning of judgment. No demand for sanctity. Just a soft, constant cooing: “Peace, peace,” when there is no peace.

Closing Benediction

Leo XIV exhorted his new priests not to be seduced by “models of success and prestige.” But the postconciliar Church is itself addicted to success, measured in applause, not sanctity. It trades the glorious wounds of Christ for the glowing reviews of modern man. It offers a priesthood without enemies, without martyrdom, without mission, because it no longer believes the world needs saving from sin.

The Sacred Heart still burns with love for souls. But the new rites, and the new shepherds, seem increasingly content to offer a gospel of pacification. The fire has been dimmed to a flicker. But it has not gone out. Not yet.