While interviewing a woman who is demonstrating how to use an antique book press, I stifle the urge, strong urge, to want to plug my nose and belt out, “Oh my gosh, your cat just crapped and it stinks to high heaven in here. I can’t listen to this for anther second.” Whereas, she is calmly and gently and solemnly showing me how to handle the antique equipment, as if it was sacred. Maybe it was, I don’t know, but not to me.
Another example, although I rarely use the word “never” because, “never say never,” is brilliant advice, I can say I know a couple who will never get a divorce. Sadness overwhelms them when they hear about people getting divorced. “Marriage is sacred,” they pine. My lips struggle not to tighten. Surely, deep down they know marriage could be hell for some people, I hope.
Antiques, marriage, the woods, the Bible, bread, a church, may offer a sense of sacredness sometimes. But, are they sacred?
The sacred is associated with God, with something holy or worthy of veneration.
I read the Lord’s Prayer verse, commonly phrased as: Our Father in heaven, hallowed be your name.
Okay, the word hallowed isn’t used very often today, probably because it isn’t sacred, but hallowed and sacred mean the same thing. The nature (name) of God is sacred. Love is sacred. Truth is sacred.
Making a person, place, or thing sacred deters from seeing God as sacred.
When I know God as sacred, I feel a respect for persons, places, and things and it’s easier to keep my antics under control.