We come into this place of worship overwhelmed by the world,
Tired with its pace, confused by its complexity,
Bewildered by its enormity and humbled by our smallness in the Great scheme of things.
We try to comprehend what is happening in our world,
To sort out its contradictions, to discern its patterns,
But we confess that too often it does not make sense to us.
"The devil is in the details," we are told,
As if there were some inherent evil in small things that we do not understand.
Might it not also be true that within the details,
Intricately woven into the basic fabric of things,
There are details which make meaning of apparent senselessness,
Give us hope where despair has kept watch,
Intrigue us with the delights of living?
Is it not possible that the divine is also in the details,
That the little things of living and loving and laughing
Are what make life matter to us?
Is it not possible that the details of daily existence are what we are all about and that enjoyment of their very minuteness
Marks the meaning that we seek?
To be sure, this is a difficult world; we live in hard times;
The devil is occasionally in the details.
Let us not forget that this is where the divine resides as well.
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