We bring our petty irritations and major concerns, our challenges and triumphs, our longed-for blessings and unexpected joys. We offer them up—the incense of prayer, mingling, separating, wreathing again: our community’s soul and desire.
Our prayers of intention, our lapses and weakness, we offer in a moment of silence.
We bring our heartfelt thanks and off-hand ‘cheers!’, our longing for peace, and desperate faith, our desire to do something and fear it can never be enough; our hashtag sentiments and privileged shame.
We offer them up—our breath shared in the hongi—mingling, separating, wreathing again: our community’s spirit and pulse.
Our loneliness or crowdedness, our boredom or busyness, we offer in a moment of silence.
We bring our stories and inspiration: the books and movies, exciting ideas, challenging concepts; the different kinds of lives and relationships; stories that make us laugh and tragedies lived vicariously. We offer them up—our wealth of wisdom—mingling, separating, wreathing again: our community’s insight and empathy. For creative re-imagining, for books as our refuge from reality and the insights of real life, we give thanks in a moment of silence.
We bring our hopes for our families, concerns for our friends, our mixed messages and mixed-up ideals. We offer them up—hands clasped in The Peace—mingling, separating, wreathing again, our community’s heart and voice. Our bereavements and births, our born-again hopes, we offer in a moment of silence…
These are the Prayers of the People of this community, with our disparate backgrounds and shared values, this, our turangawaewae, place of home-coming or launching space.
These are our prayers. This is our grace.