Is the Feast of the Ascension a moment of glory or an occasion of loss? I’m not sure. The disciples rejoiced to have the risen Christ alive and with them only to watch him leave again to ascend to God. I know that’s not what happened, that when Christ says, “Behold, I am with you always, until the end of the age,” he means it. Nevertheless, when I place myself in their shoes, I feel bereft and orphaned. Or, maybe I’m just projecting my own sense of loss onto this feast.

Lately I’ve been lamenting about what feels like the breaking apart of communities. The God Space small groups still meet virtually, but it’s hard to gather people like we once did, and I long to be together in person. I miss my parish so much. It’s been my praying community since I was a college student, and except when I was a novice, I’ve never gone this long without worshiping with them. And my religious community. The virus has enclosed some of us in our Province Center complex, mostly our oldest sisters, while it has exiled the rest of us to our small houses. It’s like some sisters are the remnant of Israel and others are scattered among the nations. I know we have to protect our vulnerable members, but it’s easy to feel disconnected. When I’m optimistic I think about when this is over and how we’ll all go back to the way we were, but when I’m pessimistic I worry that all my communities are unraveling. Neither scenario is likely, though. We won’t disintegrate, but we are being unmade, like everything else during the pandemic, and what emerges afterwards will be changed.

I have a small community that gathers for evening prayer on Zoom, and when I shared my lament with them, one of them reminded me of liminal space. The idea originally came from a quote somewhere in a book by Richard Rohr, OFM, and it’s how we’ve been talking about resurrection during this Easter Season spent in pandemic. We’ve been reflecting a lot the space between Christ’s rising and his emerging from the tomb. In that liminal space of Holy Saturday, it looks like nothing is happening, but really, everything is happening. The Christ who was dead is alive and emerging back into the world, but we can’t sense it yet.

I love looking at the resurrection like that, and it’s also a meaningful way to understand what’s happening in the community of disciples during the time between the Ascension and Pentecost. It looks like Christ ascended and left them bereft and orphaned, but in that liminal space that seems like a void, everything is happening. The people may feel deserted, but they are becoming the Body of Christ, “the fullness of the one who fills all” (Eph 1:23). The Holy Spirit is coming, and it will unmake and remake the community in ways they can’t imagine. It’s a liminal space for the community, but it’s not that nothing is happening. Rather, everything is falling apart and being remade.

My wise community member reminded me that the pandemic time is a liminal space too. It feels like nothing is happening except that this virus seems to be unmaking everything. However, it’s not that everything will fall apart and we’ll be left with nothing. In this unmaking, each of us is being remade, and our communities are being remade, and our world is being remade. We don’t know what that will look like because we’re still in the liminal space, which is a lot like the space between Christ’s ascending to God and the coming of the Spirit. For the time being, we know that God is with exilic communities too, and we belong to each other. We try and trust that God is doing something important within each of us and within our communities.

I don’t think we’re at the end of the age, and we’re not at the end of the pandemic either. In some ways, all we can do is be present to what is unfolding and wait to receive what God is doing. However, that waiting doesn’t have to be passive. The liminal space is one of holy waiting, but it can be active too, like deep listening, which might look passive but is really a loving action. Our openness, willingness, and trust help us to discern the movement of the Spirit. As we open to the Spirit, we can lean in and move with it, participating in how God is reshaping us.

What is my deepest longing? What is the desire of your heart? Paying attention to the inner workings of our own spirits will help us participate in God’s remaking. Christ’s sending his disciples at the end of the Gospel of Matthew is not just for that community. “Go, therefore, and make disciples of all nations” is a missioning for us too. What will our re-created communities look like? I’m not sure yet, but if we stay attentive, the Spirit will show us.

 By Sister Leslie Keener, CDP

Sister Leslie Keener, CDP is the director of God Space, a community-building spirituality ministry in Cincinnati and Northern Kentucky. She’s a Sister of Divine Providence with a Masters in Ministry and a Certificate in Spiritual Direction and Retreats from Creighton University. She directs retreats, meets with people for spiritual direction, and serves as the vocation director for her community. She also serves on the Coordinating Council of Spiritual Directors International. She enjoys music, dancing, meaningful conversations, and seeing people face-to-face.