BROADCASTS.com

Now there was a man named Joseph, a member of the Council, a good and upright man, who had not consented to their decision and action. He came from the Judean town of Arimathea, and he himself was waiting for the kingdom of God. Going to Pilate, he asked for Jesus’ body.  Then he took it down, wrapped it in linen cloth and placed it in a tomb cut in the rock, one in which no one had yet been laid.  It was Preparation Day, and the Sabbath was about to begin. The women who had come with Jesus from Galilee followed Joseph and saw the tomb and how his body was laid in it. Then they went home and prepared spices and perfumes. But they rested on the Sabbath in obedience to the commandment. (Luke 23:50-56)

Holy Saturday is a liminal space.

What does that mean?  Well, a liminal space is a space between the end of one thing and the beginning of another.  It’s an in-between space.  It’s the threshold of a door that connects the outside to the inside, but which isn’t really either of them.  It’s the bridge that connects two countries, but that belongs to both or neither of them.  Liminal space is the no-man’s-land in between. 

But a liminal space can also be a period of time.  The time between completing school and receiving your diploma at graduation.  The time between sending an application and hearing a response.  The time of engagement between agreeing to marry and being married.  The time between Jesus’ first coming and his second.  All of these are liminal times.  But the principle archetype that gives meaning to all of them is the liminal space and time between Jesus’ death and resurrection.

Because liminal spaces and times are not always happy places to be.  The space between a diagnosis, an accident, or the death of a loved one and whatever life looks like on the other side is a liminal space marked by grief and many other emotions that can stretch on for what seems like ages.  And in the suffering we endure through the middle of them, we can wonder if the new life of Easter is ever going to come. 

This past few years of pandemic time has also been a liminal space.  Much of the life and world we knew ended somehow, perhaps in ways we have yet to discover.  Whatever life will look like on the other side is not yet known, though we are anxious to hold it, or to resolve the tension of this messy middle as quickly as possible to get there.  But Easter tarries.  All we’re left with to hold on to is a swirl of restless emotions and the knowledge of what we’ve lost.

I think this little passage in Luke about what happened in between the death and resurrection of Jesus can help us navigate any liminal space or time we may find ourselves in though: whether coming out of pandemic, awaiting a decision, or grieving and adjusting following the loss of someone or something dear. 

Because, this particular liminal space between the death and resurrection of Jesus is marked by something quite different than the day before.  While Good Friday was marked by loud angry mobs pushing to get what they wanted for their own selfish and sinful reasons—Holy Saturday is marked by just a few people quietly and humbly giving of themselves to practice faithfulness and love.

Joseph—waiting for the kingdom of God—lovingly and quietly cares for the lifeless body of Jesus.  The women prepare to do the same with spices and perfumes.  And then they too join the faithful posture of waiting in trust on God: they rest on the Sabbath. 

The fact that Holy Saturday is a Sabbath day is of great significance, I think.  The faithful disciples practiced Sabbath in the liminal space.  They loved, cared, and trusted.  They waited.  They rested in the promises of God.  And in so doing, they gave their restlessness and emotions over to God.    

In each liminal season of our lives, I believe we are called to the same.