At the Holocaust Museum in Washington, DC, there is an exhibit entitled, "The Children's Tile Wall." It is also known as the "Wall of Remembrance." On this wall there are ceramic tiles, each one painted by American school children, memorializing the children murdered in the Holocaust. It is an amazingly creative and, at the same time sad, wall. There are more than 3000 tiles begging us not to forget-begging us to remember. These tiles tug at our hearts, calling for us never to let go of our dream for peace, hope and freedom.
We had our 8th graders spend some time at the "Wall of Remembrance" when we were there two weeks ago on our Confirmation retreat.
On one of those tiny tiles we found a few lines from the poem, Harlem: A Dream Deferred, by Langston Hughes. This poem speaks of what happens when we do not remember, when we let go of our dreams. I want to quote the poem.
What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up
Like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore-
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over-
Like a syrupy sweet?
Maybe it just sags
Like a heavy load.
Or does it explode?
What happens to a dream deferred?
In the Exodus text, we hear God's dream for the Hebrew slaves in Egypt. We hear the dream for liberation. We hear God's dream for freedom for God's people. We hear the ordinance for celebrating the first Passover-what needs to be done in order to move from bondage to freedom. It is God's dream for them to live. We hear God's command for them never to forget their dream, never to forget their dream to survive as Jews, as God's people. They were forbidden to forget. They were forbidden to despair. They were forbidden to defer their dream. They were forbidden to escape into cynicism or pessimism, or distrust of God's closeness and concern for them. "Do as I tell you to do and no plague shall destroy you. This is a day of remembrance for you!"
But we cannot stop at the Jewish Passover. This night is a night of remembrance for us, also. This night we also hear the commands of Jesus. This night we also hear the instructions for a Passover: "Do this in remembrance of me." "Do this, as often as you drink, in remembrance of me." "I have given you an example, that you do as I have done." "I give you a new commandment, that you love one another." "As I have loved you, you should love one another."
On Maundy Thursday, the word "Maundy," coming from the Latin, mandatum to "mandate," to "command," we are commanded to remember. Not unlike the Jews at the Passover out of Egypt, at the time of our Passover out of sin, Jesus has given us a new ordinance, a new mandate, a new command: "Love one another as I have loved you." This is God's dream for us. This is our means of survival as followers of Jesus. This is our liberation from all that enslaves us from love. Ours cannot be a dream deferred. This evening, we are forbidden to forget. We are forbidden to despair. We are forbidden to escape into cynicism or pessimism, or distrust that God is no longer close and no longer cares. We are commanded to love one another.
If the moment of Passover was the moment of survival for the Jews, this evening is no different for us. This evening is about caring for one another...not simply smiling at one another, shaking each other's hands, saying "peace be with you." This evening is about truly caring for one another. Washing another's feet sounds repulsive. Caring for each other can be repulsive, also.
We have received God's love in Jesus Christ. We are commanded to wash each others feet, to be servant, and to love one another as Jesus has loved us.
God's dream for us simply cannot be deferred any longer. God's commands, as we hear them, can only make God's dream for us a reality and it is this: that hope will be rekindled, that justice will prevail, that wounds will be healed, that broken relationships will be mended, that sins will be forgiven, that new life will be experienced. This dream becomes real at the feet of one another.
The Exodus is here-the experience of liberation is not simply an historical memory. Freedom in Christ is a living reality.
When we end our worship this evening, the altar table will be stripped bare and empty. We will leave, as Jews knowing what it takes to be set free from the slavery of Egypt; as Christians knowing what it takes to be set free to be followers of Christ; and as a people believing that caring for each other as servants to each other is the only way to survive.
We must remember! We cannot defer this dream! Amen.