sermon – Page 38

Not Wide Enough

September 25, 2022 By Pr. Joseph Crippen

God has crossed any chasms between us and God, and now empowers us to bridge the chasms between us and all God’s children, for the life of the creation.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Sixteenth Sunday after Pentecost, Lect. 26 C
Texts: Amos 6:1a, 4-7; Psalm 146; 1 Timothy 6:6-19; Luke 16:19-31

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

There are two great chasms God shows in these readings. The important one isn’t the one you think.

Jesus tells of two of God’s children who die and end up in very different places. One is in God’s presence forever. The other is in torment in, well, the other place. And in Jesus’ story, Abraham says there’s a vast chasm between the two places, and none can cross it.

But it’s the other chasm that God is far more concerned about. The chasm between Lazarus and this rich man in their earthly lives, one eating well in a beautiful house, and one living on the streets with the dogs. The canyon between these two deeply distresses God.

It’s the same chasm Amos decries, declaring God’s judgement on those who lounge on their beds, eating and drinking and being entertained, while their neighbors starve and struggle for life. Hundreds of years of God’s prophets decry the huge chasm between those who are safe and secure, wealthy enough to never miss a meal or doubt about shelter, and those whose every moment is a struggle for survival.

That’s the chasm that makes all these readings so uncomfortable for us today, with our sofas and houses and food and IRAs and privilege. And it breaks God’s heart.

And if God’s children won’t fill this chasm and bridge it, God will be on one side.

We hear it all the time from our Scripture reading in worship and at home. We sing it in our psalms and hymns. Mary sang it. Moses and the prophets declared it. Jesus lived and proclaimed it. The early church centered their lives around it. Here’s how today’s psalm we sang says it: God gives justice to those who are oppressed, food to those who hunger, freedom to the captives. God cares for the stranger and the orphan, lifts up all who are bowed down.

If you and I sit on our comfortable, well-fed side of the chasm, these readings today – and all of Scripture – say God’s going to be on the other side. God wants no gap between God’s children. God wants all to live in freedom and abundance and justice and mercy. But if we keep digging the canyon deeper, or ignoring it, if we ignore those at our gates and on our streets, God will never. God will be with them. On the other side.

But God’s Word has good news for us today, too.

Even if God is on the side of those who struggle, God always keeps reaching out to our side. We have these constant, regular admonitions from Scripture because God simply won’t stop hoping that somehow we’ll hear, be changed, and that this chasm in our world will close.

God could have abandoned the northern kingdom of Israel to their greed and wealth and abuse of poor and oppressed people. But God sent a farmer from the southern kingdom of Judah, Amos, to the north, just to get across God’s word of warning. A warning that included God’s hope that these people would hear, be changed, and so change their world.

Jesus hopes that just maybe rich people like us who hear his story will remember Moses and the prophets and their call to do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with God, and will be jarred to change. And to change our world.

The joy here is that God hasn’t given up on you. Or on me. Or on the Church. God’s love is for all God’s children, including those in the houses, at the full tables, with the IRAs. God hopes maybe you’ll finally be drawn off the sofa and out the door to start bridging the canyon between God’s children. And if you and I do, and more and more do, this chasm will finally cease to exist.

1 Timothy transforms our fear into hope as well.

Like Amos and Jesus, this writer is also deeply concerned about the chasm between those who have and those who don’t. So again, through this writer, God’s hope for you and me to change still flows.

But this writer says if all God’s children with houses and tables and pantries and IRAs start sharing, become rich in good works for others, become generous, simply do good, we will know what real life is. Life that really is life, this writer says.

God’s true grace is that a world with no chasm between God’s children, where all have enough and are fed, is joy and life in a way that those of us with the houses and tables and IRAs don’t know right now.

You see, Lazarus and this rich man would both have had a truly abundant life if there had been no gap. If everyone had enough to eat, and a place to stay, and medical care for whatever their needs were, it would have been a good, abundant, joyful lif for all. If anyone is in need, you are, too, God’s Word says. If any one suffers, you do, too. And the way to life for one is life for all. That’s Christ’s real life. Abundant life. Joyful life.

But in case you still can’t shake the threats of Jesus’ story, there’s more good news.

Notice that Jesus tells a parable he has every intention of proving wrong.

He has Abraham say that the second chasm in these readings, that is, the eternal chasm between those who are with God in the next life and those who are not, is so wide, so vast, it can never be bridged.

But this is God-with-us talking. God in our flesh, who has literally crossed that chasm already. Who will, on the cross, permanently fill it. Make his sacrificial love the bridge to bring all God’s children back into the loving embrace and dance and life of the Triune God. Rich man and Lazarus and all – all will be with God in the life to come.

Jesus has absolutely no intention of following through on the fear of this parable, throwing you or anyone into torment after this life. He is living – and dying – proof of God’s insistence on ending all the distance between God and God’s children. No chasm is wide enough to keep God from crossing.

But Jesus also does what Abraham says it won’t matter to do.

Abraham tells the rich man that if his living brothers don’t heed the Scriptures they won’t be convinced even if someone rises from the dead.

But Jesus will actually rise from the dead. Christ’s sacrificial love will die for you and me and the whole creation and be transformed into life that creates and restores all things. The Triune God’s resurrection life, poured into you by the Spirit, will empower you and me to start filling the chasm in this world and building bridges. Will fill God’s children with life and the power to change everything and bring all to hope and justice and mercy.

This is the life that really is life – sharing, being generous, bridging gaps, tearing down walls.

Sure, it means giving up more and more of our privilege, more and more of what we have. It means learning new priorities and letting go of our human need to hoard and store up for ourselves. It means opening our eyes to see those at our gates and in our streets as God sees them. It means opening our hearts to care for the same people God cares for, the ones we keep singing about here. It means closing the chasm between God’s children in this world so all may live.

But this is the life that really is life. The only life worth living for you and all God’s children. Nothing can keep you from it, if you really want it.

In the name of Jesus. Amen

What’s the Game?

September 18, 2022 By Vicar at Mount Olive

We are called to be children of light and do so intentionally in our lives, no matter how little or big of acts.

Vicar Mollie Hamre
Fifteenth Sunday After Pentecost, Lect. 25 C
Texts: Luke 16:1-13

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

My friends and I love a good board game.

I am not talking about shorter games such as Candyland, although Candyland is dear to many, I am speaking of the games that have instructions that take an hour to read and once you get around to playing the game itself–it takes even more hours. I am talking about the games where you spend time standing around the table, investing in reading the rule book, leaning in close, and asking questions about strategy.

As I read the parable for today, I wanted to know: what kind of game the manager is playing.

The Gospel tells us that the manager who, in a last-minute attempt to find some security in his life, changes the debts of people that owe his master. That way, when the manager no longer works for the master, he will be welcomed into the homes of the people whose debts he lessened.

Unexpectedly, when the Master discovers this, he commends the manager for his quick thinking. Instead of getting angry, the master praises the manager for being wise, or shrewd as the text says. This tactic pays off for the manager: he receives security in his future, gains friends, and gets a pat on the back from his boss. What a win!

Except for the parts of the text that makes us shift in our seats.

The parable describes the manager as both shrewd and unjust. How can this person, who has been unjust, be taken seriously? We are used to stories where the person we learn from has integrity and seeks honesty, but the person we are left to look to, the manager, does the opposite. Instead, we see that he plays the game. He finds his opening and takes a risk against the odds for a big reward.

And that leaves us asking what Jesus is saying and how we are involved.

Jesus tells us “for the children of this age are more shrewd in dealing with their own generation than are the children of light.” Here is where we begin to see that Jesus is making a parallel between two groups: the children of the manager’s generation and the children of God. Leaving us asking what is the manager doing with his own generation, that we, the children of God, are missing?

The most prominent feature of the manager is his responsiveness to the situation.

We can tell the manager knows the rule book and acts in order to seek out his goals. As Jesus turns to the disciples to tell this story, he knows these people before him should understand what’s going on. The Triune God is among us, have the disciples not been listening to the parables? If this manager can act with this level of intentionality in his own generation, why are the disciples, the children of God, not? Work for justice, care for the neighbor, and love one another. This is what God tells us to do.

Yet, these lines get blurred.

These two lines which are supposed to be parallel, begin to intersect. We focus more on our finances than our neighbors and our mental energy centers on getting ahead instead of living in the moment. We assume someone else will figure it out, rather than asking what we can do. While it is obvious that the manager has his own agenda and goals in the story, we know that ours, as children of God, are different. We look to the Gospel for freedom, we look to the law to guide, and we look to the cross, knowing that God with us, is amidst it all. The manager knows where his priorities lie and what he values. Do we know ours as children of God? Whose values are we following and for what reasons?

In these questions, we look back at the Gospel.

Jesus tells us “Whoever is faithful in very little is faithful also in much” and consequently, “whoever is unjust in a very little is unjust also in much.” Jesus tells us that even if we have little faith, we are doing much. So if we are moving towards loving God and the neighbor even when it does not feel significant, we are doing God’s work. And when we are engaging in things that feel bigger than ourselves, we are doing God’s work. Reaching out to check in on a friend. Picking up litter on the ground. Going on strike to call out exploitation in power structures.

The manager knows that these odds can be turned when he acts, because he knows the world around him. He has an awareness of the challenges he faces and pushes on regardless of them. What would happen if we trusted God with the same conviction? Jesus tells us that once we begin to live intentionally by doing those acts of little faith towards peace, justice, and loving the neighbor, they become big. Not only in the sense of the world to come, but the world that is happening right here, right now. With intentionality, People will know they are loved. Oppression will disappear into justice. And our world will find peace.

We know being a child of God is not a game, it is a way of life that pushes us to be intentional, held by grace to turn ourselves towards God.

Despite the strategy that the manager uses, he seeks out creative ways to solve problems and knows that he needs a community to do it. Similar to my friends and I playing board games, the manager invests his time, leaning in close, learning about the world and people around him. What would it mean for us to do the same in our faith lives? We have a community full of ideas and neighbors that are reaching out. We just need to ask, Children of God: how will you live with intentionality?

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

Love’s True Shape

September 14, 2022 By Pr. Joseph Crippen

This utter foolishness of God, the cross of Christ, is the only wisdom that will give us, and the creation, life.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Holy Cross
Texts: 1 Corinthians 1:18-24; John 3:13-17

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

None of this makes any rational sense. That’s what we celebrate tonight.

You understand that Paul’s not embarrassed when he says the cross of Christ is foolishness and will trip people up? He’s saying with hope that what we cling to for our life and the life of the world is ridiculous by the world’s standards. But it is God’s wisdom that will heal all things.

The world says: use power, control your environment.

Isn’t that what makes human beings great? We can dominate and rule all creatures and the natural world, can even control and dominate our fellow human beings. Might makes right.

But you see what that’s given us? Dysfunction and grief in families because people seek to get their own way at any cost. The oppression and devastation of systemic sexism and racism, embedded in the very fabric of our society and in our own minds and hearts, even if we don’t want it there. The violence and destruction of war, whether it’s nations destroying millions of people or one person taking out a gun and shooting someone else (and often dozens). Our world is riddled with pain and suffering caused by human beings seeking power and control.

But at the cross we see the God of the universe do something completely different.

The holy and Triune God has literally all power to do anything. But on the cross, God-with-us said, “I won’t fight you or anyone. I will love you with my whole heart, my mind, my soul, my strength. Even if you kill me.” This is the path to true life. You’ve seen what power and domination does, God says. Now see the true power of weakness.

That’s the foolishness we proclaim. But it’s God’s wisdom. Healing comes when we set down our weapons. When we don’t control. When we let others harm us rather than hurt them. When we love with God’s foolish unconditionality, God’s reckless vulnerability. This will make a world where all can be safe and whole and loved. Because this weakness can even break down all the systems and structures of power and domination in this world.

And there is great beauty in such vulnerability. Even if the world sees ugly scars.

There is life-transforming beauty in the gift of forgiving offered from one to another. There is life-restoring beauty in someone losing so that another might live. There is world-changing beauty in a society embracing letting go of power for the sake of the powerless.

The path of vulnerable love, God showed at the cross, is the only path that brings hope and healing, and life to all people, not just the strong. The only path that shares God’s abundance rather than hoarding it. The only path that sees the beauty of a precious human being in the eyes of every person.

Can you rejoice in the foolishness of this? Trust the ridiculousness of how you are healed by God and of the shape of your love, your path?

In our worship, we do things to help us get there.

We eat a meal of the body and blood of this crucified God. And we say with Paul, “when we eat of this bread and drink of this cup, we proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes.” Taking this food into our very bodies we eat the foolishness of God and proclaim the foolishness of God. And this food makes us foolish like God.

We bow to a cross as it’s carried into our midst, as it hangs over our altar, to show in our bodies we once again accept this cross-shaped life, this cross-shaped love, as our own life and love to live.

With our hands we draw a cross upon our body made of dirt and breath, renewing our commitment to that shape of love, and agree again to let God’s foolish wisdom shape us.

None of this makes any rational sense. That’s what we celebrate tonight.

God’s foolishness is actually the only thing that can break what truly makes no sense: this world’s obsession with power and violence and control, an obsession that is killing people and their spirits, killing species, killing this planet. That’s the true nonsense, the truly ridiculous – to continue to play by the world’s rules knowing they lead to death and despair.

Tonight we celebrate. And we pray, as we celebrate: shape our lives to your cross, O Christ. Shape our love into a cross-shaped grace that will bring your foolish love ever deeper into this broken world. So that no one will be lost but all will find life and healing in you.

In the name of Jesus. Amen

Imagine the Love

September 11, 2022 By Pr. Joseph Crippen

God’s love is the only factor that matters, and it’s all-inclusive, all-loving, nonsensical, and the best news you could ever have.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Fourteenth Sunday after Pentecost, Lect. 24 C
Text: Luke 15 (adding the third parable to the reading)

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 time, Jesus told a story.

Sometimes when faced with opposition, Jesus might rebuke or lecture. But this time, criticized for “welcoming sinners and eating with them,” Jesus wanted to see if he could help these leaders open their imaginations. So they might see the truth about God’s love for them. So he said, “Let me tell you a story.”

The religious leaders can only see stereotypes here. All these people drawn to Jesus are “sinners,” not individuals with lives and stories. They’re broad-brushed as a dismissable group. Bad, to be avoided. We do the same with the Pharisees and scribes, seeing them as a stereotype – they’re all bad, they’re ignorant, let’s all boo whenever they come on stage.

But Jesus – God-with-us – doesn’t see stereotypes. He sees with the eyes of the Triune God, eyes that lovingly see each child of God. So he wants to tell you a story. Maybe two or three. So your imagination can expand, and maybe you can see as God sees, and find good news for you, too.

The first thing to notice is these stories are all about God.

These stories have nothing to do with repenting. Luke has added a little tag verse about sinners repenting after each of the first two parables. But those verses have absolutely nothing to do with Jesus’ actual stories. The sheep does nothing to help itself, it’s just found. The coin is inanimate, it literally can’t repent. And neither of the two lost sons repent, at least not that we hear from Jesus.

Sometimes Jesus does invite repentance. Just not today. Not in these stories. Today, Jesus just wants you to imagine how astonishing God’s love for you and for all really is.

Jesus says, can you imagine a God who sees all as precious and treasured?

A shepherd who loves his sheep so much he risks life and limb to find it. A woman who treasures her meager wealth and desperately searches until she finds what she lost. A father who loves his two sons no matter how they treat him or each other.

Jesus is brilliant here. He completely ignores the question of whether his companions are sinners, or even if the Pharisees are. Most Christians claim these stories say God loves you even if you’re a sinner.

Not Jesus’ way. Not God-with-us. Whether you’re a tax collector or a Pharisee, someone who’s a known screw-up or someone admired, someone with privilege or someone cast aside by your world, you are precious to God. Period. End of sentence. Not in spite of who you are or in spite of what you’ve done. Or only if you confess and do better.

Jesus tells these stories of precious things in order, so you understand this. A sheep that does nothing to help itself. A coin that can’t. Then a last story is about people like us, but they’re the same as the sheep and the coin. Even people are loved by God simply for being who they are, not for what they have and haven’t done.

And that’s really good news for you, treasured child of God.

But Jesus isn’t finished. He says, can you imagine a God whose love for everyone is non-negotiable?

Every shepherd in thousands of years of human history has expected some losses. Sheep get sick, get lost, wolves eat them. But Jesus’ shepherd isn’t satisfied with writing off losses. No. All one hundred must be found, all one hundred must be home. It’s not God’s will that a single little one be lost, Jesus has said.

And of course this woman needs all ten of her coins. Wealthy people can write off losses, but she needs to look until she finds her lost coin. Every one is precious to her, every one means life to her.

And this father doesn’t write off the younger son who despises him and leaves with his inheritance. He keeps looking, searching, watching, waiting. And he isn’t satisfied at the celebration party when he notices his older boy is not there. He leaves the party to search for his other lost son. This father loves his sons beyond everything and will not be satisfied unless both are at home.

Jesus says, can you imagine that even when you fear you’re worthless, or regret what you’ve done, or feel you’re not appreciated, or others diminish you, can you imagine God isn’t complete if you aren’t home? No one gets written off by God. Not tax collectors or Pharisees. Not you. God will only have one hundred out of one hundred.

And that’s really good news for you, who might sometimes feel you’re not in the count.

And Jesus says, wrap your mind around this: God’s love makes absolutely no sense.

It’s not rational. It’s foolish. Any shepherd listening to this story would laugh. None of them would leave ninety-nine alone to look for one. Ridiculous.

And this poor woman throws a party when she finds her coin? How many of her precious coins did that cost? Ridiculous.

And this deluded father, how foolish is he? He lets his younger son treat him as if he’s dead, and, splits his estate in two. He welcomes the boy back with no conditions, no required groveling, ignores the manipulation, and throws a huge party. He risks offending his cranky older son and breaking that relationship to get them to reconcile. This father so loves his sons nothing can get in his way. Ridiculous.

Can you imagine that? God’s love is so expansive, so strong, so deep, so risky, it makes no sense? God will risk everything to love everyone home, will go to a cross to prove it. Ridiculous.

And can you see why that’s good news for you?

These stories don’t really end.

We don’t know if the shepherd loses more sheep, or how the woman copes with poverty, or if the younger son is changed, or if the elder son ever reconciles with his brother.

But look at how these stories do end: celebration and joy that the sheep is found. Celebration and joy that the coin is found. And the last word of the last story is the utterly beautiful statement of a father’s love: you are always with me and everything I have is yours, but we also celebrate because your brother was dead and now he’s alive.

Imagine that, Jesus says to you. Imagine that God’s first word to you is a love that will always seek you out wherever you are, and God’s last word to you is joy and celebration that you are found. Can you imagine what your life could be like if you could trust God’s foolish, absolute, starry-eyed love is for you? Can you imagine how this world could be healed if everyone could imagine such love from God for them and for all?

Jesus can imagine it. Listen to him. He’ll tell you a story. Maybe you’ll see for yourself.

In the name of Jesus. Amen

Like a Tree

September 4, 2022 By Vicar at Mount Olive

Answering the call of discipleship involves unexpected challenges and conflict, we choose if it leads us to destruction or to grow together, rooted in justice, peace and loving our neighbors.

Vicar Mollie Hamre
Thirteenth Sunday After Pentecost, Lect. 23 C
Texts: Psalm 1, Philemon 1-25, Luke 14:25-33

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

Today’s readings are not the warm embrace one might be looking for.

Jesus makes declarations about hate and about the cost of discipleship. Paul challenges Philemon about welcoming his slave, Onesimus, as a brother. And we are left to figure out how to connect the pieces.

I found myself asking, really Jesus? Hate? Isn’t that what we are trying to get away from? I would imagine that Jesus’ statement grabbed the attention of the crowd around him as the Gospel asks if we’re ready to consider what the cost of discipleship may be.

While the second reading helps us discern what the cost of discipleship could look like. As we’ve traveled through the Gospel of Luke, we know that Jesus is not a stranger to conflicting relationships. And when looking at the world today, we’re not strangers to this either. Except for today, the question about discipleship and conflicting relationships is asked directly to us.

Are we willing to open ourselves up to conflict and unexpected difficulties that come with being a disciple? And are we willing to let the call of discipleship change us, allowing us to grow into the promise we made in baptism, even if that means letting go assumptions we have made about the world?

Paul opens up this question to Philemon.

The book, Philemon, consists of a single chapter containing a letter from Paul to his “dear friend and co-worker,” Philemon. In the letter, Paul asks Philemon to take back his slave, Onesimus, and asks that when Onesimus returns, he be welcomed as a brother.

On the surface, Paul’s letter appears to be a phenomenal cover letter for Onesimus. Paul speaks about having a father-like relationship with Onesimus and even states that he will take the blame for any form of debt Onesimus has.

But Paul’s ask should not be taken lightly. Knowing the inhumane history of slavery, Philemon has the legal ability to choose what happens to Onesimus. Despite this, Paul asks Philemon to live into the choice he made to become a disciple of God. Paul points to what actively living out discipleship looks like, even if it means challenging one’s close friend.

Paul holds both love and accountability for his friend, Philemon

Paul gives thanks for Philemon, expressing how Philemon has brought him joy and encouragement. After acknowledging that friendship, Paul pushes on in his letter saying “for this reason, I am bold enough in Christ to command you to do your duty.” Welcome back Onesimus – not as a slave, those old days are gone – instead, live into your call of discipleship. Welcome home your brother.

We’re looking at a conflicting situation that feels all too familiar today. Opposing sides, friends being torn apart, both feeling justified in their thinking. We’re seeing that when Paul says, “there is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female,” he means it.

The letter ends unclear as to what Paul’s expectations are for the outcome or even if Philemon chooses to follow through with Paul’s appeal. While this may be a cliffhanger for the reader, it leaves us to think about Paul’s words. Paul leaves his request open-ended, saying: “Knowing that you will do even more than I say,” “welcome him as you would welcome me.” A true challenge to the call to discipleship.

Although Paul mentions he would like to make this a command to his friend, Paul reminds Philemon that he has an option in this. Will Philemon decide to answer with hate? Or will Philemon and Paul grow together, bringing God’s reign of peace, and justice, and caring for the neighbor?

Paul puts himself at risk of losing his friend and the whole situation ending in conflict. And we are left asking if Philemon is going to pick up his cross to be a disciple, even if that means ending his assumptions about how his world operates and reaching instead to his foundation found in God.

Philemon’s call to discipleship is a call for us too.

How can we as a community keep each other rooted in this call? And how can we as individuals, answer the call of discipleship, trusting God’s teachings to guide us when conflict arises? Will we choose to be grounded in God’s teachings of peace, justice, and loving the neighbor when political divides emerge? What about when in arguments with loved ones? What about when anger rises to the top and we begin to even feel hate towards those close to us?

The psalm gives us an answer.

Meditate on God’s teaching, look to the law of the LORD to guide, and be like a tree. It is no wonder that we find the answer in the texts of scripture that are known for having raw emotions because those that wrote the Psalms knew about conflict. Yet, when writing in conflict, they looked to God and remained rooted.

Note that the Psalm speaks about being planted by a stream of water, a place where trees can be fed, grow, and prosper. Know that this rooting by a stream does not mean ultimate safety. Our summer storms remind us of that. But having rootedness means leading to growth. It means enduring the change of the seasons and growing tall via the nutrients we find when going back to one’s foundation.

Those roots for us can be found in the sacraments, in God, and in our communities. Do you find your identity being empowered by God’s spirit and trusting in the Triune God? Do you find yourself welcoming all to the table, despite the biases and the doubts poured into our ears? Do you have the boldness in your relationships to both walk with and confront the challenges of life? These things are by no means easy, but show the risk that Jesus is speaking of in the Gospel and what is at stake in the book of Philemon. Discipleship is a big commitment. Paul’s letter shows us this while continuing to act with love towards Philemon. It shows us this is what growth can look like.

So, where will you choose to plant your roots?

In places where questions are not asked and the call of discipleship is disregarded when it gets too complicated? Or in places where we’re pushed to grow, to branch out, reaching toward God’s promises? If we’re to be bold enough to hope for peace and justice and reconciliation for the world, we, in partnership with God, are to work toward that with each other, too.

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