(I wrote this yesterday as a meditation before lighting the lights of Shabbat and I read it at Temple Israel last night. Eileen said I should post it on my blog. It is always good to listen to Eileen.)

And then there was darkness. Banners waving; Flags burnished; T-shirts announcing they came to destroy our democracy.

They came on foot and they came with the urging of a man we are ashamed to call President. They came marching and chanting and they mounted the steps and they climbed the walls and they breached the fence. The barricades of decency destroyed.

And then there was darkness. The domed sanctuary to our freedom defiled by their anger, their hate, their venom poisoning the electoral process. Their truth the lies of a political expediency.

They came marching and chanting. And they broke the police lines and they shattered the sacred halls of liberty and they leered into their cameras calling themselves Patriots.

And then there was darkness.. And slowly reinforcements arrived. And belatedly the National Guard was called up. And step by step and bit by bit they were gently

Too gently

Pushed back and the mob dissipated into the night where they find a comfortable refuge. And the darkness became light. And the House of the People went back to do its work. The darkness became light when in the earliest of hours a glimmer of hope as a new President and Vice President were certified, announced, anointed.

Liberty was proclaimed throughout this broken land and we began to breathe again. Slowly and filled with worry but breathing. Astonished and full of questions and concerns, but breathing, heartbroken and might I say: angry.

But the darkness became light.

With this as our prayer, with this as our hope this glimmer, this spark, this turn toward the moon and the sun let us say these familiar words finding in them comfort and strength.

Let us kindle these holy flames and with them let us welcome Shabbat.

May its radiance illumine our hearts.