I have been thinking a lot of about thresholds. Since I am a designer, you may not find that very surprising, but it is not only the physical threshold defining spaces that I am thinking of. In the coming month, we will commemorate our Saviors birth, a threshold of change by which humankind would forever be altered. In our church home, we have welcomed a new pastor, and are anticipating the changes our choice will bring. I also think of the choir and the threshold stages of life many are currently living. Maybe you or your children have just left home for college or to marry or maybe you have parents who are ill or have recently passed.
Esther de Waal, in her book To Pause at the Threshold, begins with “There is a traditional saying of ancient wisdom: ‘A threshold is a sacred thing.’ “ This is a simple, but deeply profound thought, and from my point of view, a thought more often forgotten than remembered. We experience thresholds every day – leaving home for work, entering school, driving across town. We are entities constantly in a state of change, often frenetically moving from one type of existence to another, without signification or contemplation. We come; we go in endless procession. Routines of perpetual motion – work, school, leisure activities – pace our lives. The modern mantra is “I’m just too busy to stop!”
For something to be sacred means it is sanctified; it is divine in process and inalienable. Since ancient time, the threshold has symbolized spiritual transformation and as a change of such significance, it required reverence and consecration. The threshold also signified a covenant, an acknowledgement and acceptance of God’s presence. Perhaps forgotten in our helter-skelter reality, thresholds not only mark those inescapable life processes such as birth or death, but also the transformative alterations of self that occur after meaningful events – graduating from college or becoming a parent; beginning a new career or converting to a faith. Thresholds offer the possibility to cross and live a new experience, to reach a novel understanding, or to connect with another. Thresholds also possess another quality, the space and time to linger in contemplation and reflection. This is important, because even positive transitions are often difficult; they not only challenge our complacency, but often our understanding. De Waal reminds us of the need to pause at each threshold, acknowledge the sanctity of passing, and embrace change with acquiescence. Thresholds offer the possibility of a profound transformation, and require a thoughtful pause before continuing a headlong dash to the other side. Here the threshold concept communicates a transition, not the finite demarcation of one state from another as most often thought, but a movement through the change. The gradient, or the space before and after the threshold, is almost more important than the threshold itself. It is in the process of approach that we come to understand better the state of one being to another.
In the transformation of society from hunter to cultivator, permanent structures, with a specific division of outside from inside, became the building of choice and the threshold evolved into a primitive family altar. With the passage of time and the ingenuity of the dwellers, the threshold altar moved inward towards the center of the building, leaving a receiving atrium or central courtyard as the transition between the demanding exterior environment and the security of the interior one. In this way, the altar remained protected, but also accessible as it resided in the semi-private domain. The threshold covenant, incorporating many rituals and traditions across multiple cultures, arose to respect the sacred aspect of this place of transition. Perhaps the most powerful and pervasive, the blood of a ritual sacrifice spread across the threshold of a household dwelling sanctified all who passed over, accepting them not only into the protective custody of the family but also placing them under the security of God. The degree of honor bestowed the guest was in direct proportion to the worth of the animal sacrificed. Called the blood covenant, many consider it the oldest ritual of not only human, but divine, protection.
Ritual was not just the responsibility of the host, but of the guest as well. A guest crossing the threshold for entrance must observe strict laws of hospitable interaction. However, if the guest enters by another means, say through a window, all bets are off. Rape, pillage and murder required the perpetrator to avoid the “law of the threshold.” In Scandinavia, enemies attack through the roof; in Greece through a breach in the wall. Since the dead could never be carried over the sanctified threshold, the Inuit tribes carried bodies out a hole in the rear wall. Most cultures abhorred the guest who actually stepped on the threshold, believing it endangered the protection and put the soul at risk. Some extrapolate that the playground prohibition on crack stepping – “step on a crack, break your mother’s back” – comes from this ancient fear. In Finland, it was considered a very bad omen for a preacher to step on the threshold as he entered the church. When a new candidate arrived, the congregation would hold their collective breath that the threshold covenant would not be breached by the new arrival – hmm – an interesting test for a pastoral candidate!
Wedding traditions everywhere, both contemporary and ancient, respect the threshold as a symbolic passage from one life to another. Offerings, either blood sacrifice or symbolic gifts, anoint the doorpost, as ratification of the marriage covenant by the newly wedded couple. Cypriots carry the groom in honor, as his friends form a “living chair by crossed hands.” In Greece, the bride offers honey and water as a life symbol. Syrian brides press soft, putty-like dough onto the doorpost, where they also impress their hand. The “print” remains there as a reminder of the change the marriage vows invoke.[1]
In the Hebrew tradition, the blood of a lamb was the sacrifice of choice to honor Jehovah, to prepare a blood welcome and to invoke his protection. Exodus 12:22-23 describes the threshold anointing that would invite Jehovah into those households of the Hebrews that wished to escape God’s judgment as he entered Egypt. In this sense, Passover did not represent God passing over those houses so anointed, but of something much more important. It represented the passing of God’s presence over the threshold into each anointed house, insuring protection and love. “For the Lord will pass through [the land] to smite the Egyptians; and when he seeth the blood upon the lintel, and on the two side posts, the Lord will pass over the threshold, and will not suffer the destroyer to come in unto your houses to smite you.”
For Christians, the Passover also symbolizes a covenant. Jesus made the ultimate sacrifice of his own life on the Jewish Passover, creating a new covenant between the Lord and his people. Paul in 1 Corinthians 5:7-8 says, “Get rid of the old yeast that you may be a new batch without yeast – as you really are. For Christ, our Passover Lamb, has been sacrificed. Therefore let us keep the Festival, not with the old yeast, the yeast of malice and wickedness, but with bread without yeast, the bread of sincerity and truth.” As the Hebrews saw the Passover, it was to welcome the Lord into their households and receive his protective blessing. For Christians, the Passover is the sacrifice of the Son of God on the threshold of the Father’s home, the home of the family of the redeemed, as a proffer of welcome to whoever outside would cross the outpoured blood, and become a member of the family within.
Donald Sage MacKay, a Scotsman born in 1863 to a family with an unbroken line of Presbyterian ministers since 1694, gave a sermon he called the Religion of the Threshold. He based it on Psalm 121 “The Lord will watch over your comings and goings, for now and evermore.” In the sermon, he shares three blessings this verse confers. First, get into the habit each morning and evening of meeting God for a moment on the threshold as you go out and come in, and as you keep tryst with God there, though you may not see it, others will begin to see a new element of strength and tenderness in your character. Second, if we carry each day the thought of God’s keeping care, the unexpected things will be dissolved and there will be grace sufficient for us to meet and overcome adversity. Third, if the Lord is blessing our comings in when the day’s work is done, it means our home will be more restful and full of divine presence. It also means the last threshold we will cross will be into the house of the Lord.
I would like to close with the same verse as Pastor MacKay, Revelation 3:20 “Behold! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with him, and he with me.”
[1]Henry Clay Trumball, The Threshold Covenant: Or, The Beginning of Religious Rites(New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1896)