It feels counter intuitive when we are told to remember the dark past.
Shouldn’t we just forget the sufferings and struggles of the past? Doesn’t it make better sense just to move on? Leave it all in the dustbin of history?
Surprisingly, no, as Josiah discovered. Josiah, King of Judah, recognized something essential had been lost as the Israelites forgot to remember their own traumatic and redemptive past. That past was their liberation from bondage in Egypt. Moses had instructed the Israelites to remember that liberation by observing Passover annually for all time – a practice they’d neglected for generations until Josiah discovered the Book of the Law and Moses’ instructions.
Today, Jewish communities the world over celebrate the Passover every year. It is an eternal reminder of what God has done for them.
There is something fundamental in remembering the darkness of the past and in celebrating our freedom from that darkness.
We all – and not just those who are Jewish – recently commemorated January 27 as International Holocaust Remembrance Day. The date itself is the anniversary of the liberation of Auschwitz, the largest of the Nazi concentration camps, where 1 million Jews were killed.
As with Passover and International Holocaust Remembrance Day, our calendars are filled with special days of commemoration. Days on which we mourn great loss and celebrate great freedom. Days that remind us of good times and bad.
Birthdays. Wedding anniversaries. First date anniversaries. The day a parent, sibling, child, or spouse died. March 5, for example, weighs heavily on the mind of my friend, for next month will mark a full year from when his wife of 70 years died.
Holy Week, when we who are Christians reflect on what happened on the Cross and in that emptied tomb. Can we really savor the profound joy of Easter unless we fully process the events of the week before and especially that dark Friday?
Memorial Day, when we honor and mourn all who have died while serving in the Armed Forces.
Juneteenth, the date the last of the enslaved were liberated in Texas. When we join our black brothers and sisters in celebrating their hard-fought freedom.
July 4, when my country, the USA, celebrates its independence from colonial oppression. Many other nations have similar commemorations.
I have friends whose lives were once controlled by their desire for alcohol. They are quick to let me know how many years, months, days they’ve been sober. And every time they tell me, I rejoice with them.
I have friends who celebrate their spiritual birthday every year – remembering the date way back when Jesus set them free!
Sure, we think of these events and experiences other than just on those special days. Obviously, my now-sober friends think of their liberation every day. And on any random day, we can reflect on what it means for individuals to be set free, for people groups to struggle and overcome, and for nations to throw off the shackles of tyranny and imperialism.
But it is also good to set aside specific dates or seasons for concentrated times of reflection.
So it is with February, designated Black History Month in the US and Canada. Black History Month is more than just commemorating the long struggle of liberation from oppression. And although there is much to celebrate in a storied history of a people dating back millennia and spanning the globe, this month focuses on the African diaspora here in North America.
Black History Month is a time for remembering the Tuskegee Airmen, Ida B. Wells, Crispus Attucks, Thurgood Marshall, Katherine Johnson, Serena Williams, Benjamin Banneker, Sojourner Truth, Richard Allen, Mary McLeod Bethune, and Malcolm Gladwell.
But the month is also for centering on the experience and meaning of oppression and liberation. It is a time to remember the long dark nights of slavery and segregation and the even longer march for freedom that brings us right up to today.
That’s what Josiah understood. That, as his people observed Passover, they would be reminded of what they had been through and what God had done on their behalf. That newfound awareness would then transform their trajectory, their future, their mission.
Josiah’s mission was restoration – revival, really. To remind his people what God had called them to be. But restoration was only the beginning. Meanwhile, the Old Testament prophets had been calling God’s Chosen People to a mission to liberate all peoples. And that mission was connected with their own story, a story encapsulated in Passover. Out of that liberation came the power to liberate.
That’s what we understand when we declare “Never forget!” about life’s dark hours. It is not only that we don’t ever want such tragedies to be repeated, as in “Never Again!” It is a reminder that those experiences of oppression and liberation are a part of who we are, maybe not the total of who we are, but most assuredly an integral part. And that we, who have been set free, are called to set others free.
I listened recently to a white American vent about Black History Month, giving passionate voice to why he should not be subjected to this event. I tried to be understanding, I really did. But mostly I felt pity – pity that he was so clueless of the value Black History Month has for him. It would do no good for me to argue with him about whether such history has been underreported in our society or whether his own heritage has been neglected.
Setting all that aside, I was saddened because he missed the point of what a pivotal role the Black struggle for freedom has played in our history and how liberating their liberation has been for all of us, and for the rest of the world. And he was totally clueless how much God had had a hand in setting His people free.
Black History Month is many things. At its core, it is a reminder to a people who have been – are being – set free. A reminder that, in their freedom, they have a mission to set others free – including the likes of you and me. As we recognize their history, something is transformed in all of us.
In this twice-weekly blog, I explore what it means to sojourn in the borderlands – the margins – of life. You are welcome to join me in that journey by signing up here.
Here are other recent posts:
What it means to rise up against injustice: on the anniversary of the fall of the Berlin Wall
Eighty years on, “never again” is not working
Public domain photos: Woodcut for “Die Bibel in Bildern”, 1860, Josiah Hears the Torah; statue of Hariet Tubman, Tubman Underground Railroad Visitor Center, Maryland.
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