Crossing the Liminal Space
I was recently introduced to the concept of “liminal space.” It is a phrase that can be applied to numerous situations — from literature, to architecture; from science, to religion; from the physical, to the psychological. In essence, it is a space in-between. It comes from the Latin limen, meaning “threshold.” In literature, it can be portrayed as a period of waiting or transition for a character (think Waiting for Godot). In architecture it is found in entryways or empty spaces. In science, it is a gap in time or space. In religion, it is a period of sacred expectation. In our physical world, we see it in open areas or passageways; and, in our psychological reality, we experience it in those painful or uncomfortable times of loss, transition, or uncertainty.
When thinking about this concept, I was reminded of Pope Saint John Paul II’s Crossing the Threshold of Hope. It is a series of the pope’s responses to questions that were originally planned to be answered during a live interview. However, due to the pope’s busy schedule and the time it takes to make a full production, the pope and the journalist opted for a collection of essays. In the book, Pope St. John Paul II answers numerous questions that are common to many modern Christians and secularists about God’s existence, the human condition, suffering, and salvation.
Finding myself currently in a time of liminal space, I was encouraged by reflecting on his writings. I believe that Holy Week and the Triduum also offer a unique parallel with the liminal space, in that during the time between Palm Sunday and Easter Sunday, and especially during the hours of expectation during the Triduum, Jesus entered into that liminal space and redeemed our own human experiences of our own liminal spaces, as He redeemed everything that He took part in during His life on earth.
By leaning into our times of in-between and by leaning on God and our family and friends in the midst of them, we are able to cross through them more easily and come out better on the other side. The American Franciscan priest, Richard Rohr, OFM, clearly states it as such:
“Where we are betwixt and between the familiar and the completely unknown. There alone is our old world left behind, while we are not yet sure of the new existence. That’s a good space where genuine newness can begin. Get there often and stay as long as you can by whatever means possible…This is the sacred space where the old world is able to fall apart, and a bigger world is revealed. If we don’t encounter liminal space in our lives, we start idealizing normalcy.”
There are a lot of points emphasized in this quote. First, he highlights how this space is between the familiar and the unknown. When reading those words, you can almost feel the discomfort experienced when passing between those two states. It is in this emptiness, where we have neither our old world anymore, nor have we yet arrived at our new position.
The assuredness with which Rohr says, “get there often and stay there as long as you can” is startling. I know that often I want to get out of there as soon as I can. But, he emphasizes the importance of this place by calling it “sacred.” For, it is a holy place between where our old world is being dismantled, while our new sphere is just beginning to be assembled. Similarly, St. Augustine tells us that:
“by delaying [his gift], God strengthens our desire; through desire he enlarges our soul and by expanding it, he increases its capacity [for receiving him].”
The in-between is necessary for the old to dissolve and for there to be enough room made for our new selves to take shape. It is this time in which Christ enters in and changes us.
Lastly, Rohr cautions that if we do not find these transitional spaces, we may idolize normalcy, which is clearly evident in so much of our advertising and media these days. Only when we learn to embrace change, can we come to grow more into who we are meant to be. But, that doesn’t make it any easier.
Crossing the Threshold of Hope offers clear affirmation that these times of liminal space are necessary for our growth and salvation. Pope St. John Paul II states, “the difficulty and the challenge of understanding the meaning of Calvary is so great that God Himself wanted to warn the apostles of all that would have to happen between Good Friday and Easter Sunday.” It is reassuring to see that Jesus knew that even the apostles, who lived with Him, would need help in understanding and trusting in the midst of the limen of the Passion. The saint concludes by reminding us that: “In order to hope for salvation from God, man must stop beneath the Christ’s Cross. Then, the Sunday after the holy Sabbath, he must stand in front of the empty tomb and listen, like the woman of Jerusalem: ‘He is not here for he has been raised’ (Mt 28:6).” We presently have the benefit of knowing the whole story. We know that Jesus suffered, died, and rose again. The apostles did not have the full understanding of their own crossing through the liminal space, at the time.
However, during our own smaller liminal spaces in our own lives, it can surely feel like the apostles. In a previous article of mine, I wrote:
“But, despite hearing Jesus’ prophecy about His passion, death, and resurrection, the apostles were still clueless about what Jesus would go through. They were horrified when He was arrested; they hid when He underwent His passion; and they did not understand when the tomb was found empty. We can say, ‘how did they not comprehend His plan, after having lived with Him for so long?’ But, aren’t we the same? Do we not often fail to see God working in our lives or doubt Him when our prayers seem to go unanswered? Do we not frequently miss the signs of God’s blessings in our lives?”
We too can lose hope in the good will of God, when we are truly put to the test. When we feel abandoned or our faith is tested, it can be easy to believe that He is absent or that He has failed us. However, we must know that that is not true. We have evidence to the contrary. We have the reality of the Resurrection and we likely have memories of smaller resurrections in our own lives, when we have passed through times of trial before.
One of the strongest sentiments that I have felt in any time of transition or change has been the agony of “how long will this last?” Often, in a valley of difficulty, it is easy to lose sight of the sun’s hopeful rays. We can become unsure that our struggles will end. It can even be so disorienting that we feel like it has always been this hard and that it will never get any better. We forget what it was like without so many difficulties. Being creatures existing in time and space, we experience reality through the passage of time. However, God, who is above time and space, yet intimately close to it, knows and sees all from without. He understands where we’ve come from and where we will end up. And more, He meets us in the present, to accompany us on our way.
When we’re in this in-between space, people can often offer empty, cliché words. With good intention, some may try to tell us, “things will get better,” “this is just the dark before the morning,” “it has to come to an end sometime,” or “the sun will rise again soon.” But, if you have ever been the one going through the painful period, you probably know that these words do not usually help because they do not relieve the suffering in the here and now. Since we are creatures of the present moment, sometimes all we care about is our immediate relief. But, if we pause and take a moment to reframe our thoughts and feelings, we can see these periods as opportunities for growth and change, instead of letting them become times of disillusioned stagnation.
Ultimately, our passage through the liminal space is contingent upon hope in Christ. St. Paul reminds us: “For in hope we were saved . . . But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait with endurance. In the same way, the Spirit too comes to the aid of our weakness” (Romans 8:24–26). Hope is the means by which we persevere. For, if something is visible or evident, we do not need hope because the thing is already known. Contrarily, if we walk blindly without hope, we will quickly become distraught, and likely we will regress. However, through the virtue of hope, we can endure whatever trial or unknown with the assurance that, “all things work for the good of those who love God” (Romans 8:28). When we do our best to stay close to God amidst our liminal wanderings, we can live with the hope that we will be guided in the right direction.
Another concept closely related to hope is providence. It comes from the Latin providere, literally meaning “to see forward.” Interestingly, it is also the same root from which arises the word “provide.” I often think of providence in the retrospective sense of looking back on something good or lucky that happened to me, e.g. “that was providential that it worked out.” However, in a supernatural sense, it refers to God’s “looking ahead” for us. In His providence, He will provide for us, if we stay close to Him and strive to follow His will.
However, sometimes it can still feel dry and desolate in the desert of transition. Even when we think that we are close to God, or when we try our best to be, it can be confusing and uncomfortable. But, St. Augustine encourages us:
“If God seems slow in responding, it is because He is preparing a better gift. He will not deny us. God withholds what you are not yet ready for. He wants you to have a lively desire for His greatest gifts. All of which is to say, pray always and do not lose heart.”
Never giving up our own hope, surrounding ourselves with others who are guided by the same hope, and staying close to the One who is hope, we can be sustained through any time of trouble.
We can know this assuredly because Jesus himself did so. He entered into our fallen world. He lived among so many who were broken and lost in their liminal spaces. He entered into their lives, walked with them, and healed them. He does the same with us, through the Church and the sacraments. The Body of Christ is His body on the earth. The sacraments are visible signs of His grace active in the world and in our lives. By participating in both, we can encounter the One who wants to enter into our liminal spaces to help us move on to somewhere greater, to be someone better.
I find it interesting that limen is similar to lumen. We must pass through times of transition, expectation, and healing — sacred times — to be able to make it to the newness of light. Pope St. John Paul II reminds us: “The way Jesus shows you is not easy. Rather, it is like a path winding up a mountain. Do not lose heart! The steeper the road, the faster it rises towards ever wider horizons.” These times of liminal spaces in our lives are invitations to pass through darkness into wider horizons and brighter light.
Just as Christ passed through this world, entering into the lives of all those He encountered, He does the same for us today. Like the apostles passed through the limen of the Triduum with confusion and despair, so too we might feel the same in our own, smaller liminal spaces. However, if we live with the blessed assurance of hope in the Resurrection, through staying close to the Body of Christ and the sacraments, we can say with St. Paul:
“We even boast of our afflictions, knowing that affliction produces endurance, and endurance, proven character, and proven character, hope, and hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us.” (Romans 5:3–5).
This progression through affliction, endurance, proven character, and hope is the epitome of crossing the liminal space. Let us hope that we can follow this course next time we find ourselves there.
