Between No Longer and Not Yet

In talking about the last week of the year, a friend mused, “We’ve entered that time between Christmas and New Year’s Day, where you don’t know what day it is, who you are, or what you’re supposed to be doing.” How right she is.

As an active Salvation Army officer, I loved the days nestled between Christmas Day and New Year’s Day. With a very full November and December schedule, we generally took a few days of vacation to unwind, sometimes traveling but more often spending time at home. While there were still plenty of tasks to be accomplished (laundry comes to mind), my calendar squares were blank, and those “in between” days offered space for novel-reading and Law and Order marathons, the only time of year when I watched hours of Olivia and Elliot without guilt. 

Traditionally, Americans have used the days between December 24 and January 2 to connect with family and to refuel in preparation for a new year. While I’ve been jotting down dates in the back of my 2017 calendar for a few weeks, I’ve used this week to crack open my new hot pink calendar (a gift from the hubby) so I can sort out my schedule for the next few months. As a borderline techie, I’m still not ready to give up my physical calendar for the convenience of storing my life on my phone, and I find pleasure in seeing the blank pages, awaiting the unfolding possibilities of 2018.

Historically, the beginning of a new year has been celebrated for 4000 years. The Babylonians used the first new moon following the vernal equinox to mark their new year with Akitu, a ritual occurrence over a period of eleven days. In 46 B.C., Julius Caesar introduced the Julian calendar, beginning with January 1, and adding ninety extra days to make the numbers work. In medieval times, attempts were made to change the date of the new year to more religious ones, such as December 25 and March 25 (the Feast of the Annunciation), but in 1582, Pope Gregory XII claimed January 1 as New Year’s Day once again.

Much of our contemporary celebration centers around midnight on New Year’s Eve. Those of us of a certain age miss bandleader Guy Lombardo’s rendition of Auld Lang Syne, along with long-time New Year’s Eve host Dick Clark, but we still look forward to the ball drop at Times Square as the clock strikes twelve. Unless, of course, we live in Dillsburg, PA, where residents gather to watch a six-foot-tall pickle drop from the fire department’s ladder truck – destination, a pickle barrel.

Not to be outdone by the pickle-droppers, the good folk of Tallapoosa, GA (formerly Possum Snout, GA), use a possum drop to bring in the new year. Fortunately, the curly-tailed marsupial is stuffed, not live. I wonder if Ashland is missing out on something here. An iconic pickle, the Tallapoosa possum, the appearance of Punxsutawney Phil on Groundhog Day, and Hinckley, Ohio’s buzzards – these crowd favorites do wonders for tourism. Time to put on your thinking caps, Ashlanders.

Pickles and possums aside, the in-between space of transition prepares us for the new year as we contemplate my friend’s words: Who am I? What day is it? What am I supposed to be doing? It’s a perfect time for resolutions, even if 80% will be laid to rest by February.

Days of transition from one year to the next can also open us to liminal space, from the Latin word “threshold.” Franciscan Richard Rohr suggests we “allow ourselves to be drawn out of ‘business as usual’ and remain patiently on the threshold, where we are betwixt and between the familiar and the completely unknown . . . this is the sacred space where the old world is able to fall apart, and the bigger world is revealed.” Liminality allows us, as Nancy Levin suggests, to “honor the space between no longer and not yet.”

My New Year’s wish is that beyond the revelry of dropping balls, pickles and possums, and the discomfort of pork and sauerkraut-induced indigestion, you might discover the transformative liminal space offered by these days of waiting. Happy New Year!