We gathered outside. A baker’s dozen: men and women, sitting on plastic chairs in a courtyard, surrounded by four glass walls. That’s how our synagogue is built— like a big square bagel. It was early morning and still dark. It was the kind of dark that was half way to light. A floodlight or a flashlight would have been a help, but somehow, we could see just fine.  The Rabbi led us in prayer:

Praise to You Adonai our God, who has given the mind the ability to distinguish dark from light.

It was chilly and the air was crisp— exactly how a Wednesday morning in late September should feel. We prayed, we sang, we stood up, we sat down. We came to the part of the service where we praise God for renewing creation and bringing light to the world. The Rabbi stopped chanting and said, “Look, the sun!” Sure enough, the sun was rising. It was orange and it was magnificent. There we sat; thirteen people filled with a holy spirit, talking to us using the language of nature. I don’t think any one of us felt we needed the text in our prayer books to tell us, every day is a miracle.

I am lost on this dark day,
far from the reality.
I reach into the blank shadows,
but am left wanting.

I need the miracle of light.
The darkness consumes me.

Grant me calmness in this murky place.
Give me strength to endure.
Offer me Your unending love.
Wrap Your arms around me.

Protect me from this gloomy solitude
and sit by me as I wait for Your light.

Let Your luminosity envelope me.
Let me feel your strength.
Let me find You in the darkness.

It's miraculous!
Your precious light is here.

-Danette Ariotti