sermon

There is no sacred place or secular space: the Triune God is here, with you, in every breath of your life, so keep your eyes open and your heart ready.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Third Sunday of Easter, year A
Text: Luke 24:13-35

Beloved in Christ, grace to you, and peace in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen

The disciples knew Jesus in the breaking of the bread.

This moment in a little house in Emmaus is so moving to us, so true to our experience and the experience of the Church for millennia, those words are a beloved phrase in our grammar of faith.

This couple, after walking a few hours from Jerusalem with a stranger who engaged them in conversation, invited him into their home. Certainly to stay the night, but of course they first offered him a meal.

And when he, as guest, broke the bread, their eyes were opened, and they recognized Jesus.

And as we gather at Jesus’ Table again today, we live in anticipation and hope of this truth happening again, one we’ve experienced over and over. We will know Jesus in the breaking of the bread.

But here’s the great wonder: they already had known Jesus that day.

When he vanished, they realized it clearly. “Weren’t our hearts burning within us while he was talking to us on the road, while he was opening the Scriptures to us?”

Their eyes might have been closed on the road. But their hearts weren’t. Their hearts knew Jesus was walking with them those seven miles. Encouraging them, listening to their grief and pain. Opening their hearts and minds to God’s Word and how it was hope for them in this strange and confusing day.

It wasn’t in the quiet of an evening dinner table that they really needed Jesus. They needed Jesus in the tiring trudge of a walk in the dust and stones. In the fear and trauma they felt losing their beloved Teacher in such a horrible way. In the fear and possible hope they felt hearing what some of their fellow women disciples said they’d seen and experienced that morning. And the risen Christ was there in all that.

I’ll never forget the faith I saw in a Bedouin from the Middle East.

This was 30 years ago, in a documentary about the life of these wandering nomads who live much as their ancestors lived for centuries and centuries before.

The interviewer asked this man how his faith in Allah helped him with his daily life, dealing with all the challenges. Basically how he applied his faith to his secular life.

The man looked utterly confused, not knowing what the questioner meant. He said, “There is no place in my life where Allah is not.” He spoke of his entire life lived in God’s presence, every moment, every trial, every joy.

I remember as if it were yesterday that I thought, “I want to have faith like this man.” Not that I wanted to become Muslim. What I wanted was to live with the same awareness of God’s presence in every moment, every trial, every joy of my life. And along with a couple other Spirit-given insights in those days, that began my now deeply rooted conviction that there is no such thing as sacred and secular. If God exists, then all the world is imbued with God, all things live in the life of God, all life is breathed in God’s breath. The Triune God is always on the road with us as much as at this Table in this place.

But our life is kind of a reverse of this Emmaus story.

We start here, in this place. You people have taught me from the first day I came among you as your pastor that here, in this place, you expect to meet God, and you do meet God. You experience this room, this worship, as holy ground. That’s really the secret to why worship here is such a blessing. You gather here fully expecting to be with God, to listen to God, to pray to God, to praise and lament in song with and to God, to see God in each other. Mystery, silence, ambiguity, confusion, none are frightening because you know the Triune God will be here in all of that. With you. With me.

There’s never a sense of indifference or nonchalance of the people of God in worship here. The Triune God meets you here and it’s always a matter of life and death to you. I am deeply grateful for you showing me this and sharing this with me.

So here is our Emmaus table. Except we already know who it is who breaks bread with us, guides us, encourages us, challenges us, leads us in this place.

And that means we already know who it is who is burning in our hearts when we leave here.

That’s the great wonder of our life of faith.

We meet the risen Christ here so we can recognize the risen Christ on the road. We are fed and taught and loved by Christ here so we can open our eyes and recognize Christ’s presence in every moment, every trial, every joy out there, in our lives, in the world. Where all ground is holy ground.

And look what you and I get out there, on the road. A God who opens up God’s will and grace through Scripture to us on our journey, carefully explaining, gently guiding, sometimes shocking and challenging. Jesus didn’t just walk with this couple. He taught them, helped them see God’s grace in a new and beautiful way. And so Christ does the same to you, if you listen and pay attention on your road.

And Jesus also listened to them. He noticed where they were emotionally – sad, traumatized, confused – and met them there. He shared their pain and the beginnings of hope that they were feeling. And so as Christ walks with you on your road, Christ likewise meets you where you are, pays attention to what you’re feeling, listens, cares, blesses.

And best is, you don’t need to do anything to get this.

This couple was going to have their painful, confused conversations as they walked back home, no matter what. It was the risen Christ who chose to show up with them and bless them.

And so it is with you. You’re going to live your life, walk your road, experience all you experience, no matter what. But the risen Christ chooses to show up with you and bless you.

So consider how you might respond. This couple listened on the road, probably asked a lot of questions, too. And then, hearts afire and blessed by this new friend, they invited him into their home.

There’s another phrase in our grammar of faith that’s beloved to us, isn’t there? “Stay with us, Lord, for it is evening, and the day is almost over.” That’s all you need to do. Be ready for Christ to join you not just here in this room but everywhere you go. And invite him to stay with you, in the night of this world and in the days you also have been given.

And be ready for open eyes and burning hearts. Be ready to sent out yourself as God’s presence in this broken and frightening world. It’s going to be amazing.

In the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen

Because Jesus has been raised, we have been given a living hope. Knowing Jesus leads us to live out that hope in the rest of our lives.

Vicar Erik C. Nelson
April 12, 2026
Texts: Acts 2:14, 22-32; Psalm 16; 1 Peter 1:3-9; John 20:19-31

Beloved in Christ, grace to you, and peace in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen

This morning, in about 20 pulpits across the Twin Cities, there are college students who are getting up to preach. Most of them for the first time, some of them for only the second or third time.

These are students from the Lutheran Campus Ministry at the University of Minnesota who have been sent out for one of their annual traditions, where the students get to go out and preach and connect with the congregations that support the campus ministry.

When I was an intern serving with that ministry, I loved to go back and watch the live streams of my students talking about the difference that the campus ministry made in their lives. Over and over, I would hear stories about how they knew that Jesus is alive because they saw him in the lives of their friends and classmates.

They carry a living hope with them because of their own encounter with Christ and his people.

With this in mind, I have even more sympathy for Thomas in today’s Gospel reading. People have made a big deal about doubting Thomas and whatever else they want to read in this, but I think it kind of makes sense for him to be skeptical of the claims that he’s hearing from his friends for many reasons, but especially because of their actions.

As much as they might be afraid of the authorities, if they really saw Jesus in the flesh among them, risen from the dead, then they would have this real proof that the impossible is possible with God.

And you’d think this would mean that they wouldn’t have to stay hiding. They would be able to leave the building and love their neighbors boldly.

But instead, when Thomas comes back, he finds the doors still locked. He finds them still hiding in fear. He finds them living like their encounter with Jesus didn’t make a difference.

Their words said that Jesus was alive … their actions said they still had to hide. Their actions didn’t match their beliefs.

When the world looks at the church, do they see our actions matching our beliefs? When they see our behavior and listen to us speak, do they have any reason to believe what we say?

It would be easy to point to other branches of the Christian family and talk about their issues. We all know about that. But we have to get the log out of our own eyes first.

As I’m looking ahead to the end of my internship, working pages and pages of paperwork and thinking about upcoming interviews in the first call process, I’ve been thinking a lot about the ways that our own church, the ELCA and other mainline denominations, isn’t practicing what we preach.

This season of Easter is supposed to be all about resurrection, new life, the promises that God offers us.

But how often do we get wrapped up in conversations about decline and decay. How often do we get stuck in a mindset of hopelessness and despair, or even worse, apathy about these things. How often do we look only at death, forgetting we serve the Lord of Life?

I’ve spent my whole life hearing about the death of Christianity … but in my own experience, I haven’t seen it. Instead, I’ve seen lives changed. I’ve experienced the new life that comes with God’s presence. I feel the living hope, the trust that God is really with us, even in the darkest days.

I trust that God is active … God gives us a living hope and will provide for us. Decline is not inevitable. When I started at LCM, we had about 30 students worshipping with us on Wednesday nights. By the end of my time there, it was up close to a hundred.

Students encountered the risen Christ in the sacramental life of that community, in Bible studies, and in the love that they showed to one another. As people saw that living hope in action, more and more young people were drawn in.

And this isn’t about numerical growth. It’s about inviting people into our living hope.

The world is hungry for a living hope … Jesus Christ, the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world, meets us here in the breaking of bread and the communion of the saints. The church is the only institution that offers that.

Yes, Christianity’s place in society is changing … but maybe the death of a transactional cultural Christianity means life for a deeper, more sincere form of our faith.

A faith this is not about who you are or what you know, but instead about what you are and who you know. You are a child of God. You are know and loved deeply by God.

Those who know God have been given that living hope and now we’re invited to live like it makes a difference.

We can stay inside, afraid of the world, stuck in anxious patterns of self-protection and self-preservation … or we can start putting ourselves out there.

We can earnestly, openly, unabashedly say, “I love Jesus, and Jesus loves you.” Because our neighbors are hearing a lot about Jesus, a lot of it bad.

But for us, who know him, who know his love and care for us, who know his embrace is wide enough for the whole world, who know that God loves everyone, no exceptions, it’s for us to tell the world about our living hope.

This is a living hope that our reading from 1 Peter says is imperishable, undefiled, unfading, kept in heaven for us … an eternal hope for all time. And also something we are receiving now. The salvation of our souls.

This living hope isn’t only something to look for at the end of days. It’s not merely a hope of heaven or a spiritual revelation. It’s a hope that is alive now, with us today, to make a difference in the world now and forever.

May it be so.

—

In the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen

You’re afraid, we all are, but the women show us we can bravely share our lives – still afraid, but filled with joy in God’s risen life in us.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Resurrection of Our Lord, year A
Text: Matthew 28:1-10

Beloved in Christ, grace to you, and peace in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen

They were so scared, they looked dead.

These tough guards at the tomb, armor-clad, carrying weapons, were terrified. They shook and fell to the ground. Like dead men.

Give the benefit of the doubt. Earthquakes are scary. And an angel of God showed up in the middle of it. That dropped them like trees. This being from heaven sits on the stone that used to cover the tomb. The tomb they were supposed to be guarding instead of being frozen, curled up on the ground, like dead men.

We know something about being frozen in fear.

These times are so overwhelming, and not just because we had a couple months of violent federal occupation of our cities, our homes, our schools, that’s lessened visually but still is ongoing. It’s the disastrous war in the Middle East, the relentless assault on the lives of vulnerable people, the fear of wondering which of our democratic processes and systems and even allies will remain after a couple more years of this.

We’re not frozen by fear of seeing an angel or an earthquake. We’re frozen by fear of what we can’t control, things that overwhelm and threaten. Sometimes in our immobility we might even look dead.

But something else freezes us, too.

We’ve just walked with Jesus through these Three Days and have seen him demonstrate with his own body and blood what the path of God’s love, will mean. It means sacrificing ourselves in love for others. Even Jesus struggled with this when he prayed in Gethsemane.

There’s a reason so many Christians in every generation reduce the faith to simply believing the right things, having correct theology. It’s fear of the alternative: that Jesus meant Christian faith to be a life fully engaged in costly relationships of love, vulnerability, and self-giving, with God and with neighbor.

We might have to face our own prejudice and privilege and lose some comfort to follow Christ. We might have to dare to allow ourselves to live on less so others can live. We might have to have our dearest opinions and convictions and biases challenged and broken open. We might have to risk being hurt.

It’s much easier to act as if faith is thinking things right, and not being someone new. When we do this, we look dead.

But there were others experiencing that earthquake, seeing that angel.

There were some women there. Disciples, followers of Jesus. Unlike the other disciples, they came out of hiding to go to the tomb and be near Jesus’ body, early. Before dawn.

And they’re terrified, too. But they don’t fall to the ground like they’re dead. They keep their eyes open. They stay standing.

And so they hear this frightening angel tell them news they never could have hoped to hear: Jesus is alive. And the angel sends them out to tell the others.

They keep their eyes open still. They start walking. And they meet Jesus on the way! They get to hold him. Love him.

These women were just as afraid as the guards, just as afraid as you and I can be. But they held it together long enough to see the joy of what God was doing in this frightening moment.

And they don’t freeze in this moment of joy.

Both the angel and Jesus send them to go and tell others. They can’t go home and live with this news alone, with warmth in their hearts. This faith in the risen Jesus isn’t something you keep inside.

No, they are sent out to be vulnerable, just as Jesus always said. They’ll risk being disbelieved. They’re women, so they’ll also risk being discounted and ignored. They’re sent to witness with their vulnerable, self-giving lives that servanthood and sacrificial love, even to death, always ends in resurrection and abundant life. That this path they’ve all been called to walk looks scary and filled with loss, but ends in the earthquake of God restoring life that has been freely given for others.

And of course you and I are also sent. If you want to follow Jesus, it means taking this joy of God’s Easter life and letting it break your immobility. It means going into the world to be Christ. To be self-giving love.

But are you still afraid? Do you fear this sending Jesus gives you?

That’s OK. Take one more look at Matthew’s Gospel. Do you see how the women left the tomb to witness? They went, Matthew says, “quickly, with fear and great joy.”

They were still afraid. But they were filled with joy. They didn’t know what the future would be for them, and that still frightened them. But now they knew this path was filled with God’s abundant life and love, a life that can’t be stopped by death, a love too strong to stay in a grave. And that gave them great joy.

It’s the joy of God’s Easter life that swings the balance for you, gives you just enough courage – it doesn’t take much – enough courage to outweigh the fear you have of being out there, vulnerable, as Christ, in the world.

If you want to follow the risen Christ, just follow these women. They’ve got the right idea. Fear and great joy, with enough resurrection courage to get moving. And Christ will meet you on the way and help you with all the rest.

In the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen

You belong to a God who made all things, brings amazing healing and life to the world and still is doing it in you and all people; trust this God for your life.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Great Vigil of Easter
Texts: The Vigil stories, including the resurrection

Beloved in Christ, grace to you, and peace in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen

There’s a lot to process here tonight.

These massive stories we heard make astonishing claims. There is a God who created all that is out of chaos, made all this beauty, and called it good, again and again. This same God acted in anger at the wickedness on this planet and flooded it all higher than mountaintops, saving a family and a bunch of animals, then repented of that destruction and promised never to do it again.

This same God rescued a particular beloved group of people from slavery and dramatically parted a sea in two. And rescued three faithful servants from a horrible death by protecting them in the heart of a flaming furnace.

And we’re asked to believe all this, outlandish as the stories might seem, stories that anyone who isn’t a believer would scoff at.

And then there’s this last one: this same God became a human being like us, lived, loved, taught, and was executed. But then rose from the dead, was seen by beloved friends and disciples. Now we’re talking about dead people not staying dead.

How do we understand these stories when all around us people will say they couldn’t be true?

Well, you’ve already done the hardest part of faith: believing in God’s existence at all.

And once God’s in the picture, there’s no keeping God out. Author Morris West wrote, “Once you accept the existence of God – however you define God, however you explain your relationship to God –you are caught forever with God’s presence in the center of all things.”[1]

Once we accept God’s existence, no matter our theology, God is potentially involved in everything. If you believe in God at all, miracles like these stories are always possible. If you don’t believe in God, nothing can prove such miracles to you.

So tonight to believers like us, these stories promise that God can do anything, therefore God can do these things.

And if God can do these things, God can do anything.

In the catacombs of Priscilla underneath Rome, there’s a tomb of a Christian woman from the late third century. And painted on the wall of her tomb is a picture of a long sea serpent with a person sticking out of its mouth, and one of three men standing in the middle of flames.

These were the pictures this faithful woman’s family wanted to see at her tomb. A God who can pull Jonah out of the mouth of a beast, who can save three people cast into a fire. Any God who can do that can be trusted to raise their beloved from the dead, too.

So for us tonight, if God can rescue a whole people from slavery, God can break oppression and injustice today, and free people from their bondage.

If God can be with people in a great flood or a fiery furnace and keep them safe, God can be with you in your trials and afflictions and hold you.

If God can raise someone from the dead, God can give you life right now.

And since God’s promised in Christ to do just that, that’s your hope tonight.

You belong to a God who is alive and active in this world and capable of bringing amazing life and healing. Far beyond reason and rational thought.

You belong to a crucified and risen God who is in the center of all things and who promises to bring life to you and to all, now and forever. To a Triune God who can create a universe, save a whole people, protect in the midst of crisis, and raise the dead, bringing life and healing to you and your neighbors and the world is pretty basic.

You’ve already done the hard thing, believing and trusting in the God Jesus reveals to you and the world. So live in the trust that such a God is love for you and for all as Jesus said, and nothing will stop this God from bringing life and healing to you and to all things.

In the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen

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[1] Morris West, The Clowns of God, prologue (alt.), © 1981 Hodder and Stoughton/William Morrow.

As Jesus is crucified in a garden, we are invited to look to him and see how life and death are intertwined.

Vicar Erik C. Nelson
April 3, 2026
Texts: Isaiah 52:13-53:12; Psalm 22; Hebrews 10:16-25; John 18:1-19:42

Beloved in Christ, grace to you, and peace in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen

One of the Bible’s favorite places to take us is into gardens. The book starts with Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden. The book ends with a description of the eternal city of God, full of trees and water and plants. The eternal city of God is not a concrete jungle, but a garden city.

The Bible starts and ends with gardens. And so does tonight’s reading. It starts with Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane, after he has just finished praying for his disciples. And this is the place where Judas leads the soldiers and police to arrest Jesus.

And when it gets to the end, after he’s been crucified, when he’s being taken down from the cross, it says, “there was a garden in the place where he was crucified.” Which was a surprise to me because when I think about Golgotha, or Calvary, the Place of the Skull, I often think of a barren, empty mountaintop. But John the Evangelist tells us that there was a garden right there.

Gardens are a powerful image and setting throughout Scripture because of the beauty and delight that you find there. But a garden is even more powerful tonight because it’s a place where life and death are intimately intertwined.

Think about how trees and bushes are kind of always dropping leaves. The compost we use to make plants grow is the remains of other dead plants. When you pick a flower, you kill it.

Life and death are fully co-mingled in a garden. And that’s something we often overlook because we just admire the beauty and the nice smells.

But Good Friday is a time when we can’t ignore the death in the garden. We can’t look away. Jesus Christ, the eternal God of the Universe, dies on a cross tonight. God gets the final piece of the human experience: death. In that death, we are reminded of our own death.

In that death, we are reminded of our sins that separate us from God and from one another. And we see the extreme lengths God went to overcome our separation. God entered the universe as a human being, lived a full, beautiful, complicated, difficult life, and experienced the suffering, the pain, that we all know all too well.

And even though we all know we will die, even though we know suffering, our society tries to make us forget. We don’t talk much about it. But we do talk about anti-aging creams and uploading our consciousness to the cloud and putting our bodies into cryosleep.

I think we hide from death because if we acknowledge its reality, we’re afraid we’ll just get stuck in a spiral of despair and hopelessness. If we acknowledge the reality of death and suffering, we won’t be able to stop seeing it all around us.

So we sit in our own gardens, dulling our senses and numbing out, because it’s too hard to look death in the face.

And yet this is what God invites us to tonight. As we remember our Lord’s suffering and death, we have an opportunity to be honest. To be honest about our own sin, the ways that we cut ourselves off from God and one another. The ways we don’t love our neighbors or ourselves.

We can be honest about the intolerable suffering in the world. We look at the ways that there are countless little crucifixions happening every day, in every country, every city, every neighborhood.

And that can be overwhelming and fill us with dread. But that is why God came into the universe. That is why Jesus died on the cross. That is why we’re here tonight.

Because the gardens remind us that even when there is death all around us, there is new life as well. As Jesus is dying on the cross, he sees his mother there. As he saw her heart being broken, I’m sure it broke his heart as well.

So he did a little miracle there. He brought his mother and his beloved disciple together, giving them to one other, making a new family, new life, in the midst of pain and death.

And after he died, his side was pierced, and out flowed water and blood. Many traditions have arisen connected to this moment, pointing out that blood and water also often accompany birth.

And together with the Word of God, water brings us into God’s family in baptism and wine becomes the Blood of Christ, shed for us, in the eucharist. In the midst of death, even after Jesus’ own death, he is making new life. Giving new life to us.

Because Jesus’s death was like ours but also entirely unlike ours. He died as a man, but that’s not all he is. He is the Lord of Life, the uncreated Second Person of the Trinity, the eternal Word of God. He died like us, but his death shows us that death never gets the final word. It feels dark and gloomy tonight, but the Lord of Life has something else coming.

This pain, this grief we feel tonight is familiar because we live in a world where it often feels like death is winning. It can feel like God is far off, just watching from a distance, unable or unwilling to intervene.

So I say, if you’re wondering where God is in our suffering, in this broken world, look to Jesus in the garden.

Look to Jesus in the garden, praying for us, even as we betray him. Look to Jesus in the garden, with his own broken heart, grafting his mother and his friend into one new family.

Look to Jesus in the garden, dying a death like ours, so that we might join his eternal life. Look to Jesus in the garden, being buried in a tomb … our tomb … so that death … our death … cannot have the final word.

May it be so.

Christ Jesus on his knees isn’t just an example, a model. It’s an offer of shared servanthood with you for the sake of the world.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
Maundy Thursday
Text: John 13:1-17, 31b-35

Beloved in Christ, grace to you, and peace in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen

“Do you know what I have done?” Jesus asked.

Obviously, he’d shockingly acted like a slave and knelt and washed the disciples’ feet. What more was there to know?

But Jesus asked, “do you know what I did? Why I did it?” He then went on, “I’ve set you an example. You call me Teacher and Lord, and yet I’ve just served you. Do you get it?”

Maybe we understand all too well what Jesus has done.

See, all images of the faithful path we see this week involve loss.

Jesus on his knees, washing the feet of his disciples and saying, “do this.” Let go of protecting your dignity and pride, get on your knees and serve each other.

Jesus giving bread and wine and calling it his body and blood, joining the meal to his death. Every Eucharist tells this sacrifice, is shaped by this death.

Jesus in the garden tonight, setting aside what he wants and willingly choosing his Father’s way. Refusing to call down angelic armies, rejecting the use of violence.

And Jesus tomorrow on the humiliating cross of Rome, enduring suffering and death to love all.

And each of these losses was a chosen loss, an intentional path.

So tonight Jesus looks at you, at me, and asks, “do you get it? Do you know what I have done? Do you see what lies before you?

If you wish to follow Jesus, your calling is to take the same path of loss, every time. Not necessarily being asked to literally die for another person. That may never be a choice before us. But Jesus says kneeling before his friends is his example. Yes, Jesus died on a cross, the ultimate end of the path he chose. But before then, he was on his knees, washing filthy feet. He considers them the same sacrifice. And asks, “Do you get it?

But that question is far deeper than you think.

It’s not just about following an example. See, this is God-with-us, the face of the Triune God, kneeling at your feet as a servant. You think you look up to see God, and it turns out God is kneeling at your feet, washing them, offering God’s own life to you in love.

That’s the thing to understand tonight. You’re not asked to follow as a servant as if it were a job to do. God-with-us, kneeling at your feet, asks, what if you joined me here?

God-with-us, dying on a cross, asks, what if you joined me here?

Jesus is still doing sacrificial love now, and invites you to join in it. To live your life, starting in your closest relationships, losing yourself for the sake of the other. Dying, even. Dying to getting your own way. Dying to “being yourself” and acting however you feel like acting. Dying to being centered on yourself that you might focus on others.

You could be a part of God’s transforming love, too, Jesus says.

When you get what Jesus is doing. Jesus, God-with-us, on his knees saying, “trust me – this is how we’ll make the world new together.” This is only working plan God has for the healing of all things. The ending of oppression and hunger and homelessness. The stopping of war and violence.

And this is the risen Christ’s job even now. Even if you don’t join Christ on the floor in self-giving love, Christ is still on his knees. Even if I refuse, Christ will still be loving this way, transforming hearts, serving through someone else. Through many others. And this servant way will bring about God’s new creation, one kneeling servant at a time.

Now do you know what Jesus has done? And what will you do now?

In the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen