“From there to here, from here to there, funny things are everywhere!” (Green Eggs and Ham, Dr. Seuss)

Was it a dream? Or wasn’t it?

Ever wake with that strange feeling? You wake and wonder if your dream is still going on? A discomfort gnaws and nags at you---maybe it wasn’t a dream after all? It seemed so real!

Sometimes those dreams are hard to shake off. A kind of “dream dust” settles on your reality and your sense of time. You find yourself in a kind of “liminal space,” unsure whether a part of your dream exists for real ….or not. Eventually the feeling fades, but the mystery of those moments remain.

That place in between sleeping and waking, that feeling that you’ve left dreams behind, but haven’t quite yet entered the realm of true wakefulness and reality, can be called a “liminal space.” It’s an anthropological term made famous by Victor Turner, and literally means that “in-between” space, transitional space.

You’re not dreaming anymore. But you’re not quite awake either. You’re somewhere in between, standing at the threshold of reality, but not quite stepping through.

That’s the art of the story, isn’t it? It’s the reason we love to read stories –reading can be a kind of Alice in Wonderland experience that takes you into a land of liminal space, in which you meet people not from your time or place, interact with them, journey with them, take them into your heart and mind, and then emerge from the process having found that you yourself have traveled somewhere new, whether in mind or heart.

It’s the same with movies. How many of you love to go to the movies? And what happens? For a little bit of time, usually an hour and a half or so, you leave your own reality, and you enter into a different place, a different time, another reality, in which something is happening --or not happening, if you’ve seen the recent “Manchester by the Sea” (2016). But like a good book, a good movie too will lead you into a new place. And you’ll emerge back into your own reality, bringing something of it with you, something that no doubt has affected you in some way, moved you, taught you, left you traumatized, or left you smiling.

While you’re slumped in that theater seat, that movie has been your liminal space. And during that time, you may not know what to expect, what will happen next, how it will all end, but when it does, you find yourself….in some way….changed.

Psychologists recognize “liminal spaces” as any kind of space in which old realities are temporarily dissolved but before which new ones emerge.

“I stand at the door and knock.” (Jesus)

It doesn’t have to be just a time of dreaming or reading or watching a movie. A liminal space can be very real. Think of some of the major social hierarchies that have dissolved or changed in the last 50 years. Some of you remember watching the fall of the Berlin wall. It was sudden and shocking. But then there was a brief time, in which the old regime ceased to exist, but a new order had not yet taken shape. Hopes and dreams mixed and mingled in strange and uncertain ways.

This was liminal space.

Think of what happened in the Soviet Union….or more recently in Egypt. An old regime fell, and yet it took a bit of time until a new one was instituted. That brief “nowhere” time …that was liminal space.

Not political? Think of something more familiar. Adolescence –that strange time we’ve all experienced (or may still experience), in which we leave childhood behind, but haven’t yet quite entered adulthood. We’re not a child. We’re not an adult. We’re a teen…..or tween. Developmentally….that’s liminal space.

It’s strange. It’s uncomfortable. It’s a time of change, and a time of journey toward somewhere new. It’s standing at the threshold of a new and exciting place, but not yet knowing what that place will be like. Adolescent errancy is messy, it’s swampy. It’s a little bit weird. We’re not who we were, but we don’t yet know who we are becoming. It’s a nowhere place, yet going somewhere….some unknown somewhere.

No wonder adolescence is so frightening!

It’s liminal space.

It’s a strange journey, going into the unknown, unsure where you’re going, or how things will be where you end up. But knowing you must go, you go. When thousands of people left Germany in the path and in the wake of the Second World War, they knew they couldn’t stay. They had no idea what would await them in their new life, somewhere else, doing something else, speaking another language, being someone else than they were before.

In a sense, it’s the journey of many immigrants as well. How many of you know someone who may have had multiple degrees in another country, but when they arrived here, those degrees weren’t recognized. So, someone who had been a professor or a doctor before, is now a clerk at Macy’s, or a taxi driver, or a waitress. Anyone know some of those people? They took a journey, in which they left a life they knew, and spent time journeying to a new life, that they didn’t know. And gradually, they became something new. Or maybe you were raised in a poor town in America. But you traveled a road and took some risks, and now you own a store, or a company, or have a job that can support your family well. You spent time in liminal space, in unknown territory, with unknown people. That is the story of the United States of America, the story of “The American Dream.”

Liminal space is risky.

There is nothing like the journey of when you go to college. No longer a high school student. Not yet a member of the workforce, college is a time of “liminal space,” in which you stand outside of society, in a separate learning environment, specially made for people discovering where they want to go and who they want to be. Four years----eight years. And then you emerge with a new identity. It’s a time of liminal space.

Those of you who have had children –pregnancy is a liminal space –a time in which you are no longer single, but do not yet know what parenting that child will entail, or who you will become as “Mommy” or “Daddy.”

This is liminal space.

But liminal spaces are not just about physical changes, or political changes, or economic changes, or even intellectual development. Liminal space is a journey of your soul –where in one way or another, you began as one thing, and will become another. For the moment (or longer than that) you are traveling toward becoming something or someone else. But have not yet arrived.

It’s not just a weird place, it can also be an amazing place.

The unknown, the unexperienced, the wondrous, the mysterious –these are the unanswered questions of being in liminal space.

Fear of the unknown exists in liminal space.

Doubt exists in liminal space.

But the very definition of liminal space is a five letter word –FAITH.

Faith is a journey in which fear, doubt, and the unknown may pop up like hills to climb, or rocks to trip over, in a long way from one place to another, but a journey that you keep making, because you believe in your destination. And you believe in your journey.

Faith always keeps going forward. Faith keeps the face looking upward and the feet moving forward. And faith believes in the process, and the “walk” of the journey –as well as the person you journey with.

In our scripture for today, we see Mary and Joseph in a kind of “liminal space.” They are journeying from Mary’s home in Nazareth, where they had become betrothed, to Joseph’s family home in Bethlehem, where their marriage will eventually be consummated.

But theirs is a strange journey. Mary is already pregnant. And as we know, pregnancy too is liminal space.

And this isn’t any ordinary pregnancy. But this is a pregnancy by the Holy Spirit, told to Mary in a visit. Told to Joseph in a dream. Another liminal space.

All they know is that they need to get out of Nazareth and move to Bethlehem, so that Mary can have their child without shame or consequence, and so that God’s plan for the child can begin to unfold. Their journey may be prophecy. But for them, it’s no doubt still frightening, mysterious, worrisome, wondrous. Talk about liminal space!

What will happen to them now? They are no longer the people they were. They are not yet the people they will become. The child is not yet here. Yet they need to prepare for…..something different.

Their lives will change enormously. They don’t yet know how much.

They don’t know where they will birth the child, or where they will stay. For now, they will go to Joseph’s family. But he hasn’t had time to build them a home before Mary’s pregnancy occurred.

They don’t know what will happen when the child is born…..don’t yet know about the star shining over the manger at the child’s birth; don’t yet know about the hosts of angels or the visits of the shepherds.

They don’t yet know about gifts from magi from other countries, or a warning from strangers to journey again….. as refugees fleeing to a strange place in Egypt, with strange customs and foreign influences.

They don’t yet know what having a messiah will mean for them, for their family, for the child, for the world.

They only know, God has told them to go forward into a pregnant future. And their journey has begun with trust in the God and continues with the presence of God all the way in that liminal space.

It’s not a short journey from Nazareth in Galilee to Bethlehem Ephratha, outside Jerusalem in Judea. And Samaria lies in between. The journey is dangerous, and goes through the wilderness, through dust and sand, rocks, and the Jordan river.

Mary and Joseph no doubt wondered and talked on the way about the possibilities their son would open for their people, about how their lives would change, about what they might do next, about what would happen when they reached Bethlehem.

They no doubt feared the future a bit, wondering if their dreams were truly real, if their plans were right. They must have had doubts, and fears, and hesitations.

Yet like Abraham before them, they journeyed forward in faith.

Like Moses before them, they journeyed forward in faith.

Like Hagar, like Ruth, like Joshua, like Elijah, they journeyed forward in faith.

With God beside them.

Having faith doesn’t mean that you never have doubts. It doesn’t mean that you don’t fear the future, or wonder what will happen next. It doesn’t mean that you are perfect, and you never fall down. It doesn’t mean when you doubt that you are discarding God, or God’s journey for you and your life.

Having faith is a journey with rocks, and stones, and potholes, and mountains, and especially swamps. But a journey in which you keep on going, because that journey is changing you, and you know that the God of surprises is doing something awesome in your life and in the lives of others. You may not know how or what it’s all about. You may not know what surprises God has in store. But you DO trust in your traveling companion, who assures you along the way –the God of promise, because He’s God, but also because He’s there, journeying with you.

Faith is not a destination. Faith is a journey. And while there will be destinations, surprises, and changes along the way, there will always be another journey to travel, and another surprise down the road. All you have to do is take the first step.

We are all people journeying forward with God in some way or another. Some of us take longer than others. Some aren’t sure where they are going or why. Others don’t know they are journeying toward God at all…..yet.

In our lives, in our ways of following Jesus, in our path we have chosen, no matter what denomination, or what doctrines or traditions or rituals we hold dear, we are all traveling in faith toward a life that will be made beautiful in the person of Jesus. Because Jesus changes us. Life with Jesus changes us. And in the process of walking with Him, we are becoming something new every single day of our walk of faith. Being a Christian is a walk. It’s a journey.

We live in liminal space. We live a liminal faith.

Today, as we approach the celebration of the Christ child, we stand at the threshold of huge change. Huge possibilities. For the world. For your life. The more who find themselves on that road of faith in Jesus Christ, the more of Jesus we will have in this world.

Now more than ever, we need to recognize the power of Jesus in this world …to change and heal, to save and salvage. We know in our hearts, even if sometimes we hit moments or times of doubt, that Jesus has the power to change our lives, changes our hearts, and change our world.

We know that Jesus is our destination, even as Jesus is our traveling companion. And the road home is a garden life of walking with God, talking with God, and loving God. No matter how far we travel, or how rough the road, all roads lead to God when those roads are taken as pilgrimages of faith in Jesus Christ. Jesus is the only road to God, but there are many roads to Jesus.

Today, as you prepare to celebrate with family and friends, prepare to open gifts, and to revel in the joy of the holidays, know that this too is only “liminal space,” part of the journey that leads to even bigger and better things –to love, hope, and resurrection life.

There may be some people in your family, or among your friends, that are not “at home” this Christmas and you are especially worried about them. Maybe one of your kids is “at home” but not “at home” this Christmas by their actions and attitudes. Remember that this is “liminal space,” and we pray each other through our liminal spaces, for we are all at various points in the journey of faith. Remember, the magic is in the moment, in the journey, in the “getting there,” in the Story. Enter into it. Live it. Love it. Cherish it.

And remember this: that even if they are not “at home” this Christmas, either physically, mentally, or spiritually, Jesus is most “at home” among the homeless. Here is G. K. Chesterton reminding us of this in his classic Christmas poem:

A child in a foul stable,
Where the beasts feed and foam;
Only where he was homeless
Are you and I at home:

We have hands that fashion and heads that know,
But our hearts we lost—how long ago!
In a place no chart nor ship can show
Under the sky’s dome.

To an open house in the evening
Home shall men come,
To an older place than Eden
And a taller town than Rome.

To the end of the way of the wandering star,
To the things that cannot be and that are,
To the place where God was homeless
And all men are at home.

May we all find our “home” in the most liminal spaces this Christmas, and be most “at home” among the homeless and those lost in those liminal spaces, where Jesus resides with us, even as He leads us.