Of you, husbands and wives, we declaim to the heavens.

Even in times of robust health you manage maniacal half pints whose fingers are drawn inexorably into the syrup and onward onto drapes, the laptop and the cat. And now, more so.

Even when virtual school is not in session in your living room, the couch you once purchased with hope and joy is desecrated by torrid socks and mysterious stains even though eating upon its fluffy cushions is forbidden in weighty terms. Now, more so.

Even when each day was not a mix of Saturday morning cartoons and a chimpanzee cage, the ever-occupied bathroom was a promised land you could not enter for 40 years. Now, even longer.

You couples whose offspring once sprung off, we see that your formerly placid tents are peopled again with a stiff-necked 20-something tribe who do not remove their shoes on your sacred ground and who leave soiled dishes in piles reaching heights of the Cedars of Lebanon.

You retired couples! Of you we sing loudly. A spiky virus is an enemy at your gates. But even before that, your great comfort, routine, was vanquished because a spouse newly underfoot was not sure what to do with himself and was showering infrequently. Even less so now.

In these times, some have sought deliverance in strong drink and Netflix. But you, oh couples of all ages, you have remained true to your sacred bond even though life proceeds stickier, more crowded and more pungent than in days of old.

You endure and you reflect for us God’s love, which remains steadfast and lavish even in times when a bored man changes the oil too often and leaves greasy fingerprints on the doorknob. You, couples, are our hope that we will overcome the present age of plague and division.