Ribbono Shel Olam,
God of life, God of light:

We come before You on a Shabbat bruised by terror,
still carrying the images we cannot unsee
and the names we cannot stop whispering.

This week, hatred erupted in a place meant for joy,
at a shoreline where Jewish families gathered to kindle light.
Blood was spilled where candles were meant to glow.
Lives were taken.
Lives were shattered.
Lives were spared by miracle.

We thank You for the healing underway,
for the hands that stopped the bleeding,
for breath that continues when it might not have.
And we ache — deeply — for those whose breath was stolen,
for families now learning how to live with an empty chair
and a silence that screams.

God, we say clearly what must be said:
antisemitism is blasphemy against life.
It is an assault not only on Jews,
but on the sacred image You placed in every human being.

And yet —
we refuse to surrender the night.

We light candles anyway.
Not as denial.
Not as decoration.
But as defiance.

Ḥanukkah’s lights are a sacred protest.
They declare that we will not be quiet.
We will not hide.
We will not allow terror to dictate the terms of Jewish existence.

Courage, this week, looks like flames held steady
by trembling hands.
It looks like three candles in a wounded week,
refusing to go out.
It looks like families showing up,
like communities standing closer together than before.

Kol Yisrael areivim zeh bazeh.
All Jews are responsible for one another.
All Jews are family.

This truth has never felt more literal,
more urgent,
more demanded of us.

So shape us, God, into what this moment requires:
strong, outstretched hands —
ready to help,
to protect,
to be of service,
to build,
and rebuild.

Bless those who labor for justice and safety.
Strengthen those who refuse despair.
Comfort the brokenhearted.
And let our light — not only our candles,
but our actions —
push back the darkness inch by inch.

May this Shabbat be a pause for breath,
not a retreat.
A gathering of strength,
not an escape.

And may the light we kindle together
carry us forward —
visible, proud, unafraid —
with work still to do in Your world.
Amen.