And there was morning, and there was evening, the seventh day...

And on the morning of the seventh day, I went to church.

Today is Sunday 21 December: The penultimate day of the eight day festival of Chanukah, the winter solstice, the new Hebrew month of Tevet and the Sunday before Christmas.

And on this seventh day, this year, it also marks a week of shiva (mourning) for the Jews murdered on Bondi Beach,

I went to church this morning because I was invited by my friend, vicar Heston Groenewald to his church in Hyde Park, to say a prayer for peace alongside a Muslim friend of his also.

In truth, I was nervous. I thought it would be easy to find the words from our liturgy to share, but as I read poems, reflective passages and prayers, none seemed to really meet the moment. Perhaps because I didn't really know what the moment truly was.

I arrived late (plus ca change) and Heston was waiting at the back of the hall to greet me, and then came and sat with me in the seats reserved for us on the front row. As the nativity story was shared, and Christmas carols sung heartily, I flicked through my siddur to see what else I could find. I was panicking and berating myself for not having just sent Heston a profusely apologetic message that 'something had come up' and I was so sorry not to be able to come. Much easier to have just stayed at home.

All too quickly, Heston introduced us and we were invited onto the platform to share our prayer and light a candle. I introduced myself, referencing how the last couple of years have not been easy, and how hard I found it to find the right words, and how I hoped that the words I had finally chosen resonated for them as much as it did for me.

This is what I had hastily found in my siddur (prayer book): written by Rabbi Jonathan Magonet:

"We long for shalom, 'wholeness', 'completeness', and 'peace'. Yet peace, we learn, is something to which we can only aspire. Moses or teacher, went 'towards peace' - for we never attain it while life still awaits us. There is always another journey, another goal, another task, always something to repair in a fractured world: a relationship that needs to be healed, an injustice to be corrected, a conflict to be transformed. May all our paths be in search of peace, we who bless and are blessed.

Baruch Atah Adonai, HaMevorech et amo Yisrael, v'et kol ha'olam, b'shalom

Blessed are You, God, who blesses His people Israel, and the whole world, with peace."

I lit the candle, then moved aside for Nahim to say her passage from the Qu'ran also evoking and praying for peace, and to light her candle.

Then to complete the three wise women as Heston called us, Jo - Heston's fellow vicar and prayer leader for All Hallows - also lit a candle.

Although I didn't know it at the time I was invited, it became clear that I hdd also been invited to be a Jewish person to whom congregants could personally express their solidarity and condolences.

After the service, people were lining up to greet me, to wish peace upon me (to which I replied - Salaam Akeikum, Shalom Aleichem - the Arabic and Hebrew translations of that phrase) and to express their sorrow over the attack in Australia.

Tea was brought (always a good idea in these situations) and drunk as we chatted, and I felt the once familiar, and regrettably now less so, tingle of honest and deep connections being forged over and through our respective faiths and backgrounds.

I felt seen, I felt safe, I felt welcome and I felt comforted. I felt God's presence over all of us, as those of us on our paths in search of peace found ourselves, and each other, at All Hallows this morning.

As I put the finishing touches to this., t's now 3.30 in the afternoon. The sun is setting on this shortest day of the year, when from now on there is a little more light each day, rather than darkness. We will light our candles for the last day of chanukah soon, and tomorrow we will feel the absence of those beautiful candles flickering in our windows. And it will be on us to bring the light into the world in other ways.

And I can't help but think about God seeing all that has been created, and seeing in amongst the darkness, and tragedy, and hatred and fear, the hope and the connections and the courageous souls reaching out for, working for, striving for peace.

And God saw that it was very good.

There was morning, and there was evening, the seventh day.

Vicar Jo, me and local Muslim Nahim, at All Hallows Church this morning.