Living in Limin

The word "limin" is marked as a misspelled word in my spell check. It comes from anthropologist Victor Turner's theory of "liminality," which refers to that in-between place between "no longer" and "not yet." "Liminality and Communitas" (1969) is a paper that discusses this -- i'm not going to get all academic on you, but a familiar example to Euro-American Christian culture occurs in a traditional wedding ceremony, and comes from ancient traditions, long before women were considered "people."

The bride is walked down the aisle by her father, whose house she is exiting as he gives her away. She joins her husband at the altar, not yet his, but no longer her father's. This liminal time is filled with words of promise and blessing. After the symbolic deeds are done, the woman becomes her husband's and moves into his house. But in that liminal period, she was held in a moment that is considered to be sacred, and is celebrated as such. That vulnerable, powerful, transitional time is the liminal "in between."

All time is liminal time, and each moment is transitional. We may settle into routines that help us remember what to do and where to go, but every moment is in-between the last and the upcoming. The sacredness and vulnerability and power in that one moment can be celebrated anytime, anywhere.

As we enter this "in-between" time of Advent, waiting for the Christ to arrive, waiting for Christmas to come, waiting for the ends of our semesters so we can get on with the things we can't squeeze in now, waiting for the season to be over because money is tight, waiting for our holiday reunions with loved ones, waiting, waiting, waiting... we have some choices. We may not have a choice about employment or improving our financial situations. We may not have choices about the inevitable losses of life. We may not have choices about our difficult housing or workload or family situations, but we do have choices about how we respond to them. This time is liminal; celebrate it as holy.

Much more likely, we feel as though we are liminally and perpetually trapped as a rope in a tug-of-war. We are tugged between our pastors insisting on "Advent" and the world selling us "Christmas." We are tugged between our Christmas lists of loved ones and our bosses telling us there will be no raises or bonuses this year. We are tugged between the shameful history of racism in our country and our first president-elect who is a person of color. We are tugged between the giving spirit of the winter holidays and our tremendous grief over the death of a retail employee because of our rampant consumerism. Both ends tug and yank and stretch and hurt, and we manage to continue the business of meaning-making.

The good news is this: we are not ropes. We are agents of change, bringers of hope, and lovers of peace. We do live in the vulnerable, powerful, blessed time of promise as we transition from moment to moment. Like it or not, we live in limin. Make it worth your while.