I once wrote an article called “The Little Way of the Hobbit,” connecting Tolkien, humility, and the Holy Name of Jesus. It made sense at the time. Hobbits don’t save Middle-earth with grand speeches. They save it with small, stubborn, repeated acts of faithfulness. That’s how the Holy Name works too. Not with fireworks. With fidelity.

Because let’s be honest. Many of us treat Jesus’ name like background noise. We hear it in prayers we’ve memorized since second grade. We whisper it before meals. And we tack it onto the end of a rushed Our Father while herding kids into the van for Mass. The syllables blur together. It becomes religious wallpaper.

But the Church, in her quieter corners, insists this is not just a word. It is the Word that makes demons flinch, angels bow, and hearts soften. Scripture says it plainly: “At the name of Jesus every knee should bend.” Not at the name about Jesus. Not at a theological concept. At His Name.

The Feast of the Most Holy Name of Jesus exists to interrupt our autopilot. To remind us that when we say Jesus, heaven listens.

A Feast That Focuses the Light

The devotion itself goes back centuries. It grew organically in the medieval Church as a kind of spiritual counter-culture movement against casual blasphemy and hardened hearts. After the Council of Lyons in 1274 encouraged Christians to foster reverence for the Holy Name, Dominicans began forming what became the Society of the Holy Name. Their mission was simple: stop people from dragging the Name of Jesus through the mud of profanity and indifference.

Franciscans like St. Bernardine of Siena and St. John Capistrano took it to the streets. Literally. Bernardine would carry a tablet with the IHS monogram through towns and invite people to kneel as it passed. The Holy Name became less of a concept and more of a living presence.

By the 1500s, the Church had approved a Mass and Office for the feast, originally celebrated on different dates depending on the religious order. Eventually it landed on the second Sunday after Epiphany, and today it is observed as an optional memorial on January 3.

Saint Bernard of Clairvaux summed it up better than any historian ever could: “To speak of it gives light; to think of it is the food of the soul; to call on it calms and soothes the heart.” That is not poetry. That is experience.

Even Pope John XXIII, in a 1962 address, placed devotion to the Holy Name alongside the Sacred Heart and the Precious Blood as one of the three fundamental devotions of the faithful. He wrote, “Nothing is sung more sweetly, nothing heard more joyfully, nothing more gently contemplated than Jesus the Son of God.”

Nothing. More. Gently. 

The Name That Refuses to Be Rushed

The readings for the feast are almost jarring in their simplicity. Luke doesn’t linger on the drama of Bethlehem or the flight into Egypt. He simply tells us: “After eight days had passed, it was time to circumcise the child; and he was called Jesus.”

The naming of Christ happens in the middle of obedience. Mary and Joseph bring their Son to be circumcised according to the Law. No applause. No angelic choir. Just faithfulness. And in that quiet moment, the name that would shatter hell is spoken aloud for the first time on human lips.

Saint Paul later reflects on this mystery in Philippians: Jesus “emptied himself,” took the form of a servant, and because of this humility, God exalted Him so that “at the name of Jesus every knee should bend.” The Name is not powerful because of divine flexing. It is powerful because of divine humility.

The Catechism quietly sneaks this devotion into the section on prayer and then drops a line that should probably be underlined in every copy: “The invocation of the holy name of Jesus is the simplest way of praying always” (CCC 2668). Not the most advanced. Not the most impressive. The simplest.

That is incredibly good news for people who are tired, distracted, anxious, overwhelmed, and out of practice. You do not need to memorize Latin hymns or master contemplative silence. You just need to start saying His Name again. Slowly. Lovingly. On purpose.

Learning to Say It Like You Mean It

The Church has never been subtle about how to practice this devotion. She gives us tools like the Litany of the Holy Name, which strings together titles that feel less like a list and more like a slow unveiling: Jesus, Son of the living God. Jesus, King of glory. Jesus, meek and humble of heart.

There is also the ancient hymn Iesu, Dulcis Memoria, parts of which were used at Vespers for the feast. One stanza reads: “No voice can sing, no heart can frame, nor can the memory find, a sweeter sound than Jesus’ name, the Savior of mankind.” That is not hyperbole. That is someone who learned, the hard way, that there are prayers you survive on, and then there are prayers you live on.

For centuries, popes granted indulgences simply for invoking the Name. “Jesus.” “Jesu.” “Praise be to Jesus Christ.” They were not rewarding superstition. They were forming habits. Teaching Christians to carry the Holy Name like a spiritual reflex.

January is dedicated to this devotion for a reason. It comes right after Christmas, when we are exhausted, overfed, and spiritually distracted. The Church gently says, “Let’s start small. Say His Name again.”

And here is the beautiful irony. In a world obsessed with platforms, productivity, and performance, the Holy Name devotion feels almost embarrassingly simple. No strategy. No branding. Just a word whispered in traffic. A breath before answering a hard email. A muttered prayer when the kids are melting down and your patience is running on fumes.

That is how hobbits save Middle-earth. That is how saints are made.

Not by mastering the faith, but by returning, again and again, to the Name that never gets tired of being spoken.

Jesus.

Related Links 

The Little Way of the Hobbit: Celebrating Tolkien and the Holy Name of Jesus

The Power of the Holy Name of Jesus