We are entering Holy Week. It is the most sacred week of the year for Catholics. Within eight days, we experience Jesus being hailed as King, presiding at the last supper, betrayed, captured, scourged, nailed to a cross, and rising from the dead.

And yet, for those of us who have been Catholic for years, Holy Week can become nothing more than the last stretch of giving up candy, alcohol, or television. For others, it can signal the end of meatless Fridays. Maybe it reminds us that we need to shop for ingredients that will go into a Easter Sunday feast. And sometimes, it means we will be joined by those family members who only agree to join us for Mass a few times a year.

Some fall into the secret thought pattern of “Jesus died and rose some two thousand years ago. We know. He rose from the dead. We know. We’ve celebrated it every year of my life.”

I understand. Repetition can bleed anything of its value—but only if we let it.

This is the chief complaint of many protestants toward the Our Father. It certainly can’t be that it isn’t scriptural or that it is displeasing to the Lord. (Look at Luke 11:2.) But again, the words only lose meaning if we stop meaning them.

Most of us celebrate our birthday every year. It only loses meaning if we lose our meaning to others.

Most of us who are married celebrate our anniversary every year. It only loses meaning if we’ve let our marriage lose its meaning.

Jesus was hailed as King, presiding at the last supper, betrayed, captured, scourged, nailed to a cross, and rose from the dead.

And nothing should ever mean more.

Questions? Comments? Reach David at dlins@oloj.org.

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