Liturgy is the worship of God. If we were to look on the books of Scripture especially as liturgical books, we might have a fuller grasp of their function. For the Scriptures are, as it were, the text, the libretto, for the entire drama of the year of the Lord, the liturgical year.

 "Holy Mother Church is conscious that she must celebrate the saving work of her divine spouse by devoutly recalling it on certain days throughout the course of the year . . . . In the supreme solemnity of Easter (for example) she keeps the memory of His Resurrection, along with the Lord's blessed Passion. Within the cycle of the year, moreover, she unfolds the whole mystery of Christ from His incarnation and birth. . . .to the expectation of a blessed, hoped-for return of the Lord. . . . The faithful are in some way made present at all times. . . .enabled to lay hold of [the mysteries] and become filled with saving grace." [Decree on the Liturgy, SC 102]

 "While the saving events of Christ's incarnation, obedient life, suffering, death, resurrection and ascension happened once for all for our salvation, they are also operative for the present Church and are experienced in a unique but not exclusive way through the liturgy. . . . These saving mysteries that happened once in historical time also transcend historical time. . .and are able to be experienced as saving events. . .regarded as trans-temporal and meta-historical. . .annually appropriated and fully experienced." [The New Dictionary of Catholic Spirituality: 606, 607]

That is why Catholics are puzzled when they are said not to read Scripture, the Bible. For Catholic understanding of the word is on an entirely different level from any usual text. We don't read the Scriptures. Perhaps true enough. We do them. And that is quite another matter. For one thing, we take Scripture very seriously and see it as the Word of God. We incense the book-proper out of reverence. And we act it out. We do it. We be it. And that is precisely what we do. Hence we do not merely read the Psalms as sacred poetry, privately pray them. We pray them with Christ and the whole Christian body past, present and to come, in Heaven and on earth. We sing the Song of Mary with her, and the Song of Zachary with him, and the whole body of believers.

We are witness to the Word of God, live. Hence our worship is much more than mere commemoration of past events. We remember the birth of Abraham Lincoln, but we are present at the Birth of Christ. Truly.

And so we do not have to fancy how we might have fared at the original birth scene in Bethlehem had we been there. No need. Your last Christmas tells all. That is not how you might have been. It is, rather, history. Recorded. It's how you were!

This gives another dimension to life. It is more real than we perhaps imagined. Far more significant. It is one thing to wander through Chartres with guide-book in hand, quite another to be one of those who worship. And worship in Chartres is meaningful only because it is one with Bethlehem. Really. Mystically. Indeed, but do you think that means not real? You are lost indeed if so you figure.

 "Reflection on the life commitment inherent in celebrating the liturgy serves to draw out implications of liturgical participation, where implication means living the Christian moral life." [The New Dictionary of Catholic Spirituality: 606]

 The message is clear enough. You are there. You are involved. Even your diffidence is your involvement. And the measure of your love.

This is not to say that a full liturgical life fully participated in makes good Christianity. Not quite. No more than wandering around Palestine with Jesus would make a Christian. It involves a lot more. The sort of confrontation that the fickle Peter faced by the lake shore when Christ asked him, not once but three times, "Do you love Me?" Obviously, it was not clear at that point that he did, otherwise why ask?

When you leave here this morning you may run into Him. And He might possibly ask you, smiling to be sure, "Do you love Me?" "Yes, Lord. I've just been to Mass." And He might respond, "Were you? Really?"

Advent is beautiful, not least of all for purple. In it we go back to the beginning of the book, of the tape, of the film. And play again the familiar story. And bravely step into line and begin the march even if we know how it will end.

See the windows in our church. They portray journey, travel, movement upward. Some make it. Some don't. But one thing is clear. We are all travelers. On a journey. We know whence we come. We know with whom we walk. And we know where we are going.

It's quite different from reading the Bible. We be the Bible. It's called the liturgical life. Just another word for living — in Christ..  Amen.

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