I came across a wonderful gem the other day from Barbara Crafton, who is an Episcopal priest who is currently serving in Florence, Italy. She has a terrific website called the Geranium Farm, and she sends a missive every day or two to folks. This one, I think, is especially fitting for Holy Week coming up, and says something about how we make the ancient story our story, the concept of remembering that we do in our liturgy.
In fact, all liturgy is just that: the recapturing of something that once happened, bringing it alive again and amplifying its meaning in the present moment, where we are now. The endless debate about "what's really happening" in a sacrament is fruitless, by and large: they are not rational occurrences, and they cannot be reduced to reasonable explanation. It is one of the saddest parts of being rational beings, this sterile insistence of ours that everything make sense, our grumpy suspicion of mystery. It cuts us off at the knees. Human beings are more than brains with legs. We are hearts, too. Many things can reach us, through many doors other than the door of our understanding. We owe it to ourselves to open all the doors, and throw open a few windows, too, while we're at it.