In some monastic, eastern traditions, one pauses as one goes through a doorway. It is considered a liminal place- a place between places. A doorway can lead us from sunlight into darkness or from exposure into safety. This doorway is from eternity to resurrection.
The doorway is a liminal place and I think we have liminal places in life too. They are the in between places – not where I once was – not where I will soon be. In our interior life – our development into that person who is the hope of God – we have liminal places there too. In our “Nefesh” as the Hebrews would say – our everythingness, we have these liminal places in which pain and suffering, regret and sorrow, grief and loss are like spiritual chemotherapy – life-giving if they do not kill us. And on the other side of the breathless fog in which one hangs perilously on the edge between hope and despair, we pass through the doorway to the other side and, feeling our souls with the hands of our prayers, begin to realize – somewhat amazed – that we have survived. And not only that we have survived, but that we are better – transfigured – more of the hope God has for us and less of the reptilian seeking immediate pleasure, anesthesia, power or control.