“More tortuous than all else is the human heart, beyond remedy; who can understand it? I, the LORD, alone probe the mind and test the heart, to reward everyone according to his ways, according to the merit of his deeds.” – Jeremiah 17:9-10

In Dilexit Nos, his recent encyclical on the Sacred Heart of Jesus, Pope Francis reminds Christians that the heart is the center of the human person. It is the “locus of sincerity” that reflects our “true intentions,” the “naked truth about ourselves” that encompasses who we really are (DN 5). Our hearts are created by Love and for love. Such love is demonstrated first and foremost not in emotions, intentions, theological explanations, or even prayers, but rather “by concrete actions” (DN 33). “Heartlessness”—the failure to bother to love— thus stands at the origin of sin in a “world [that] is losing its heart” (DN 22).

For Luke’s Rich Man, the road to hell is paved in heartlessness. Despite the persistent calls of Israel’s prophets to care for the widow, orphan, alien, and the poor, the Rich Man has “dined sumptuously each day” with no regard for the Lazarus who lays at his door. His heart is “turned away from the Lord,” as Jeremiah cries out in the first reading, precisely because he disregards the immediate needs of his neighbor in need. He has failed to bother to love.

We are well into the second week of Lent. The luster of Ash Wednesday may be dimming, and with it our steadfast commitments to fasting, prayer, and tithing. But let us not forget the clarion call of that first day of Lent, namely the Prophet Joel’s cry to “rend our hearts, not our garments.” In receiving Christ’s love for me, from what do I need to repent? What do I need to let go of? Which Lazarus do I need to see? And how am I called to mediate the Sacred Heart of Jesus to a suffering world, especially the marginalized neighbor at my door?