O God,

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 breath

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

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