By Deacon Roger Carr-Jones, Marriage and Family Life Coordinator, Diocese of Westminster
Marriage and family life provides one of the most effective models of liminal spaces of transition, listening, waiting and sometimes not knowing. These are in-between moments, which just like times of prayer, bring about something new. The bride and groom inhabit a liminal space prior to the Consent, where for a time they are neither single, nor married. They then become a new creation.
Liminal spaces are very important as they are often places of unexpected, yet deeply profound, moments of encounter. Living by the seaside, I particularly enjoy the liminal space where the sea and sand come together. The technical term for this space is the swash zone, due to its dynamic nature where there is the ebb and flow of the tide. It is at once both land and sea. There is agitation and calm, as the swirling of the water and sand create a constantly changing landscape. In scripture this swash zone is highly symbolic. It represents the boundary between the sea and the land, a place of transition and change. It is a sacred space. It is a space where stresses and expectations give way to a new way of being.
The word liminal comes from the Latin limen, meaning a boundary, a threshold or a doorway. This well describes this transitional space. It is a place in which something new can be created, where burdens can be washed away and new beginnings emerge. This space, which is both land and sea, is a timeless one, which we can retreat into and emerge from changed. A liminal space is one of transition, where we can move from one form of existence into something new and very different. It is that space in prayer, where prompted by the Holy Spirit, we can grow and change.
Finding ourselves in a liminal space can seem uncomfortable as, just like the swash zone at the seaside, nothing is fixed. Yet, it is also a place where we can discover new gifts. There might be danger as the sand becomes liquid, yet with each swirl of the tide there is expectation, joy and excitement. For the Christian, a liminal space is where we are continually encountering the God who loves us and wants the best for us. A transitional time in the life of faith keeps us fresh and alive.
One of the most evocative post-resurrection scripture passages is that of the Risen Lord waiting, with breakfast prepared, on the shore of the Sea of Galilee. Peter was in a liminal space torn between his desire to follow Jesus and his rejection of him. He wanted to return to his old life, a familiar yet by now empty one. We, too, can all experience similar feelings when things are tough in life. However, he steps from the boat and, wading through the swash zone, discovers that the past is washed away and, at the invitation of Jesus, a new yet demanding adventure begins.
These liminal spaces are not boundaries but thresholds. This understanding helps us to notice where we have experienced moments of encounter and change. Just as the leaves fall from the trees, revealing a changing landscape, so too do liminal moments change us. Pope Francis’ papacy has been described as a liminal one. At the peripheries we don’t discover a boundary, we discover the threshold into something new.
As the summer gives way to autumn this provides a liminal space. One in which we can review the landscape of our lives, so that we can discover the new paths we are being invited to explore. At the moment we might feel we that we are midway on a path of uncertainty, recognising that an old path is ending but not quite glimpsing the new one that is on offer.
If so, we could use the words of the Swiss physician and theologian Paul Tournier, as our guide.
“God who transforms and shapes us, use my in-between places as a source of growth and transformation into the image of your beloved son, Jesus.”