North Main, 8.27.17 MissionalLiminalSpaceNM82717
Title: This In-Between Time
Texts: Sermon text, Psalm 137. Scripture reading, Isaiah 42:16.
The first thing we need to do is define a term: “laminal.” This term is tossed around a lot by those who study things like epochs and eras. These folks examine patterns and changes in a particular place and time. And they say that we are currently in “laminal space.”
“Laminal,” according to Merriam-Webster: “of, relating to, or being an intermediate state, phase, or condition.” Another definition, the morning title: “this in-between time.” It’s derived from a Latin word: limen, which meant “threshold.” In the 19th century it was used hardly at all. Early in the 20th century there was an up-tick. In about 1970, usage went through the roof.
For Christianity, laminal space began after Jesus . . .
. . . was taken up into a cloud while they were watching, and they could no longer see him. As they strained to see him rising into heaven, two white-robed men suddenly stood among them.“Men of Galilee,” they said, “why are you standing here staring into heaven? Jesus has been taken from you into heaven, but someday he will return from heaven in the same way you saw him go!”
In between time, laminal space, living in the muddling middle. Until Jesus returns.
We live in a weird time, this space between one thing and another. Our day is defined by:
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relative and subjective truth chasing absolutes and certainty out the door
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excessive individualism, cynicism and skepticism
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change happening all at once in countless directions
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lack of meaning and central beliefs that hold things together
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social, religious, political gridlock
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a growing awareness that science, technology, education have profound limitations
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a global war of ideals fought everywhere at once
Thursday morning, I formed a personal definition of the era we live in: “everything matters and nothing matters and what if it did?”
Laminal space is as old as Scripture itself. The Israelites were in laminal space in Psalm 137. This is a community lament:
1-3 Alongside Babylon’s rivers
we sat on the banks; we cried and cried,
remembering the good old days in Zion.
Alongside the quaking aspens
we stacked our unplayed harps;
That’s where our captors demanded songs,
sarcastic and mocking:
“Sing us a happy Zion song!”
4-6 Oh, how could we ever sing God’s song
in this wasteland?
If I ever forget you, Jerusalem,
let my fingers wither and fall off like leaves.
Let my tongue swell and turn black
if I fail to remember you,
If I fail, O dear Jerusalem,
to honor you as my greatest.
7-9 God, remember those Edomites,
and remember the ruin of Jerusalem,
That day they yelled out,
“Wreck it, smash it to bits!”
And you, Babylonians–ravagers!
A reward to whoever gets back at you
for all you’ve done to us;
Yes, a reward to the one who grabs your babies
and smashes their heads on the rocks!
(The Message)
In their laminal space, do you hear the rage? Thirst for vengeance? The Israelites are in captivity, exiled to despised Babylon. Their existence is cruel, hard. They are slaves. Alongside the rivers, a usual place of respite in the Middle East, they sit and cry hot, morbid tears. Musical instruments are silent. Why would they want to play them, anyway? But their sarcastic captors demand music and singing.
A bitter taste rests on their tongues. A terrible acid roils in their gut: God, do to them as they did to us. Smash their cities. Wreck them. Tear them down to the ground. Kill their inhabitants, including infants, so future civilizations will recall them no more. Kill them all! The young, the old, everyone in between!
Scripture does not spare us the revolting details. Under God’s guidance, this text was included in the biblical canon. It’s included in lectionary readings for the church year. Many church hymnals include a song based on this text: “By the waters, the waters of Babylon, we sat down and wept . . .” (HWB 148, By the Waters). Human nature can be ugly. But we must remember, this text is descriptive, not prescriptive. This is not God’s voice. This is an Israeli writer caught up in hot, malignant emotions.
This text describes how not to be when things are uncertain, when life is volatile, the future fogged in by threatening and erratic weather, which is our context. God is doing a new thing that calls for trusting dependancy on Jesus. But it’s hard to walk by braille and not sight. In this laminal space, we are called to believe that the footprints of Jesus are leading somewhere, that Jesus is doing a new thing.
In the meantime, we are called to follow this Jesus that John frequently refers to as “light”:
There was a man sent from God, whose name was John. He came as a witness to testify to the light, so that all might believe through him. He himself was not the light, but he came to testify to the light (John 1:6-8).
Singer/songwriter Carrie Newcomer, uses this phrase: “Lean in toward the Light.” In her song by that name, she defines hope by repeating that phrase. The lyrics are in your Compass. As you listen, notice that “Light” is capitalized:
Winter is the oldest season
But quietly beneath the snow
Seeds are stretching out and reaching
Faithful as the morning glow
Carry nothing but what you must
Lean in toward the Light
Let it go, shake off the dust
Lean in toward the Light
Today is now, tomorrow beckons
Lean in toward the Light
Keep practicing resurrection
The shadows of this world will say
There's no hope why try anyway?
But every kindness large or slight
Shifts the balance toward the light
Waters wind and open wide
Lean in toward the Light
Don't just walk when you can fly
Lean in toward the Light
When justice seems in short supply
Lean in toward the Light
Let beauty be your truest guide
The shadows of this world will say
There's no hope why try anyway?
But every kindness large or slight
Shifts the balance toward the light
The prayer I pray at eventide
Lean in toward the Light
All left undone be put aside
Lean in toward the Light
When forgiveness is hard to find
Lean in toward the Light
Help me at least to be kind
Lean in toward the Light
Lean Toward the Light: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fxAUmNjWaIs
Isaiah 42:16, NRSV
I will lead the blind
by a road they do not know,
by paths they have not known
I will guide them.
I will turn the darkness before them into light,
the rough places into level ground.
These are the things I will do,
and I will not forsake them.
In this middle ground, in the meantime, in this laminal space, don’t be afraid to be missional, to try something new, to chart an original path as you follow Jesus. Don’t be afraid: turn your face toward the Light.
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