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I have read the pope’s new encyclical, Dilexit Nos, twice today and I have avoided most of the commentary and public reactions to the document.

I posted my thoughts on X earlier this afternoon, so if you saw what I wrote there, you may find some of this post redundant.

I expect to write more extensively on this document once I’ve had time to digest it and discuss it with others, but here are my relatively unvarnished thoughts and first impressions. Like I said, I don’t know what others are saying about it or what sections they are highlighting, so I have no idea how my comments align with other responses.

I should begin by noting — even as someone with an English degree, who writes and edits for a living — I often struggle to think of the right word. I’d estimate that for the average article I write, I consult a thesaurus 5 or 6 times, minimum. And finding the right words to describe Dilexit Nos has proven especially difficult.

My overall impression of this document, although it hasn’t fully sunk in, is that there’s a theological “wholeness” about this encyclical.

I might even say Dilexit Nos adds a measure of completeness to Francis’s corpus of encyclicals. His first three encyclicals, each in its own way, had a primarily outward focus. Lumen Fidei taught us that the light of faith illuminates everything and transforms human understanding of the world around us. Laudato Si’ called us to ecological conversion and reminded us that all of God’s creation is interconnected. Fratelli Tutti was the pope’s prophetic vision of fraternity and peace for all people. Each of these documents dealt with our place in the universe and how we relate to those around us.

But Dilexit Nos looks inward, to the heart, which Francis describes as “a core that lies hidden beneath all outward appearances, even beneath the superficial thoughts that can lead us astray” (4). He also describes it as “the locus of sincerity, where deceit and disguise have no place” (5).

In his definition of the heart, Francis goes far beyond the internal organ or its use as a popular symbol for love. By “heart,” he means the innermost part of ourselves: the stark, unvarnished reality of who we are before our all-knowing and all-merciful God. This is the part of us we often hide from others (and ourselves). To be fully ourselves, however, we must bear our hearts. Francis writes, “in the heart of each person there is a mysterious connection between self-knowledge and openness to others, between the encounter with one’s personal uniqueness and the willingness to give oneself to others” (18).

And a change of hearts can change the world. And God doesn’t leave us alone. Francis writes, “This in no way implies an undue reliance on our own abilities. Let us never forget that our hearts are not self-sufficient, but frail and wounded.” Indeed, “the Lord saves us by speaking to our hearts from his Sacred Heart.”

My underdeveloped overarching thesis, based on my initial impressions, is that Dilexit Nos is a self-portrait of Pope Francis’s heart as a disciple, pastor, and member of the Body of Christ. This is the heart that produces his apostolic exhortations, underlies his messages to priests at the annual Chrism Mass, and inspires the countless spontaneous gestures that so many find deeply moving. It is also the pastoral heart that is willing to take risks, defy convention, and fully trust in the “God of surprises.”

I am still wrapping my mind around the teaching on the symbolism and significance of “the heart” as Francis presents it — which is only the first part of the encyclical, but his explanation is so rich and has struck me profoundly. I’d never quite visualized it in this way before.

The next part of Dilexit Nos delves into the Heart of Christ, the history of devotion to the Sacred Heart, and the writings on the Heart of Jesus by saints and popes throughout our Catholic tradition.

Towards the end, Francis ties these teachings together with his social, moral, ecclesial, and spiritual vision, which we can only realize fully when we unite our hearts with Christ’s. He writes:

“Acts of love of neighbour, with the renunciation, self-denial, suffering and effort that they entail, can only be such when they are nourished by Christ’s own love. He enables us to love as he loved, and in this way he loves and serves others through us. He humbles himself to show his love through our actions, yet even in our slightest works of mercy, his heart is glorified and displays all its grandeur. Once our hearts welcome the love of Christ in complete trust, and enable its fire to spread in our lives, we become capable of loving others as Christ did, in humility and closeness to all. In this way, Christ satisfies his thirst and gloriously spreads the flames of his ardent and gracious love in us and through us. How can we fail to see the magnificent harmony present in all this?”

This is truly a profound document, but it is also deeply rooted in Catholic tradition. In fact, I could see very little in Dilexit Nos for the pope’s usual critics to attack.

That said, I can imagine that some of these critics will praise it because it’s “orthodox” and fail to recognize that it comes from the same pastor’s heart as the rest of the pope’s vision for the Church — Evangelii Gaudium, Amoris Laetitia, Querida Amazonia, Fiducia Supplicans — the whole thing. They’ll be missing the forest for the trees. (Granted, Dilexit Nos is a very big tree.)


By Nheyob – Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=38108760


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Mike Lewis is the founding managing editor of Where Peter Is. He and Jeannie Gaffigan co-host Field Hospital, a U.S. Catholic podcast.

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