The rock on which we stand
In the midst of troubled waters.
We confess that our power is not sufficient for this moment,
That our talents, our treasure, even our love
Cannot match the need and suffering that is before us.
And so we gather, to boldly ask you for your gifts,
For the gift of compassion, for those who are hurting and afraid
For the gift of anger for those who have no choice but to work or to parent or to suffer
For the gift of calm, unbreakable steadfastness when we are told that there is simply not enough, even of hope
We come to ask you for your hidden gifts:
For the whispers of Sabbath,
Of hope blooming in the cracks,
Of slow joy growing in the unkempt places of our lives,
And so, before we return to our world
With its ever-steady drumbeat of fear
And frantic not-knowing
Give us, in this moment, one sacred pause
One sound of sheerest silence
So that we may turn our spirits to you
The bearer of our burdens
And return refreshed.
Ben Yosua-Davis, 3/17/2020