In Celebration of the Love and Lives of
James Lee Craig And Marybeth Rea Craig

Dearly beloved family and friends, I am Jeremy Storch, Messianic Jewish Rabbi of the Tabernacle in Branson.  It is my honor to have been asked to be here today to celebrate the love and lives of James Lee Craig and Marybeth Rea Craig.  And to say farewell to them both -- for now -- until we meet again in the Heavenly Kingdom of Our Lord Jesus Christ.

Marybeth Rea was born on July 19th, 1926 in Mildred, Missouri.  She was the daughter of Frank and Nellie Rea and the eldest of five children.  Her sisters Doris and Bobbie, and her brother, John, preceded Marybeth in death; she is survived by her youngest brother, Peter.

Marybeth grew up in Branson and at the Rea family cattle ranch in Kissee Mills.  She delighted in telling stories of her family:  Her father, Frank, whom she described as “a man of impeccable integrity and honesty, widely admired.”  And of his love for his wife, Nellie, who Frank could still make giggle and blush even at the age of 80.  Marybeth believed that one of the greatest gifts that two parents can give to their children is the security and joy that comes from knowing that their mother and father love each other.  And she would later pass that gift on to her own children.

Marybeth often told stories of doing ranch chores.  Her least favorite:  Being rousted on a cold, winter morning while still dark outside and told to trudge out to the pastures and knock the icicles off the cow’s ears.  With no shortage of work to be done on a ranch, and at home helping her mother with four younger siblings, Marybeth developed a strong work ethic.  For all her life, she was rarely idle.  Even when she took time to sit down, it was always working on a project or with pen and paper in hand.  She was a prolific letter writer.  L-o-o-n-g letters.  As one of Marybeth’s friends once said, “When a letter from Marybeth arrives in the mail, I know I’d better go make a sandwich ‘cause reading it’s gonna take awhile.”

Marybeth excelled in music, singing and learning to play piano.  While attending Branson High School, Marybeth was cast in the lead role of the Cinderella operetta.  Marybeth loved her high school music teacher and said she owed a debt of gratitude to her.  In a dress rehearsal, just before the big performance, the teacher was listening to Marybeth singing the song, “I’m Only A Poor Kitchen Wench.”  But, Marybeth was getting the lyrics wrong, singing, “I’m Only a Poor Kitchen Wrench,” having had no idea what a “wench” was.  Thus, Marybeth was certain – especially in her high-drama teenaged mind -- that her music teacher had spared her from life-long, mortal public embarrassment.  That teacher inspired Marybeth to want to teach music, herself.

Marybeth graduated from Kansas University with a Bachelor’s Degree in Music Education – a degree that required a passing ability to play every instrument in an entire orchestra.  No small accomplishment for anyone, let alone for a five-foot-two-inch petite woman who’d had to strap on a tuba.  Marybeth swore, “I did it,” and she’d beamed with pride in telling the story of her final exam, playing one instrument after another after another.

Having earned her Music Education Degree – and being newly engaged to be married to a promising young doctor – Marybeth landed her very first job:  Teaching Music, Band and Chorus at what was then The School of the Ozarks.

It was there that she was to meet the love of her life – but, he wasn’t the promising young doctor.   

The life story of Jimmy Lee Craig requires a “Preface.”  How he came to be born on November 30th 1933 in Yellville, Arkansas is a story that deserves to be told.  And it begins in Hollywood.

One hundred years ago, in 1915 to be exact, the first full-length silent movie was released.  It was a Civil War epic called, The Birth of a Nation.  And while it was touted as an “historical” film, it was, in truth, white supremacist propaganda.  In it were scenes of clansmen, dressed as white robed Christian Crusaders, riding to defend the South from coming tyranny of Negro Rule.  And riding to the rescue of virtuous white women who were being raped by fiendish black men.

The Birth of a Nation was released worldwide.  And when it reached the shores of Scotland, the Scots immediately recognized the symbolic meaning of a burning cross.  For hundreds of years, the Scottish clans had burned crosses as a distress signal to neighboring clan families.  It was not a symbol of hatred or bigotry.  It was an SOS.  On sight of a burning cross, neighbors would come running in defense and aid of their neighbors.

That propaganda film was responsible for a wave of Scottish migration to the United States.  Having seen the distress signal, many Scotsman sincerely believed they’d been called to action.

One of those young Scotsman was John Burley Craig who would, one day, be father to Jimmy Lee Craig.  John Burley sold his possessions, packed his few belongings, as well as his mother, and traveled to the United States, landing in Corpus Christie, Texas.  They settled in Yellville, Arkansas.

At some point after arrival came the realization:  The Birth of a Nation was a lie.  The “Caped Crusaders” were not the heroes; they were the villains – The Ku Klux Klan.  And the Klan used that propaganda film as a recruiting tool for what became known as the second rising of the KKK. 

The realization came too late for John Burley Craig.  He’d sold everything, spent all he had to get to the US.  He had no way to return home to Scotland. 

John Burley Craig married Velma Hand and they had two sons: J.B. Jr. and Jimmy Lee Craig.

John Burley worked as a blacksmith and a stonemason.  But perhaps his best, and most in-demand, skill was making bootleg whiskey. 

Jimmy Lee Craig’s first job, when he was just a little boy, was delivering quart jars of illegal moonshine to his father’s customers.  Then he’d return to those customers to pick up the “empties” for refilling and delivery.

The Craig family lived in desperate poverty.

Jimmy Lee would later tell of how his father had taught him to shoot a rifle at an age when he was so young, he was not much taller than the rifle he carried.  Had Jimmy Lee not learned to shoot squirrels and opossums, there would not have been any meat on their table.  To his recollection, they had only enough money to buy flour, sugar and coffee.  He recalled that his mother seemed to subsist on baked sugared rolls and caffeine.  And for much of Jimmy Lee’s childhood, his mother was in and out of a mental hospital where, after a few months of three square meals a day, she’d be released and sent home where she would, again, relapse into severe malnutrition and mania.

Jimmy Lee Craig was determined to get out.  Determined to not live in desperate poverty.  Determined to get a good education and willing to work for it.  Determined to reach The Promised Land.  And, for Jimmy Lee, that Promised Land was, ironically, not far from Hollywood.  It was to go to college at USC -- The University of Southern California.

That journey began with his acceptance to The School of the Ozarks in Missouri.  From there, he would make his way out of poverty and make his way toward an accomplished life.  And that’s where he would meet the love of his life.

Jimmy Lee Craig packed a duffel bag and slung an old guitar over his shoulder.  That same guitar had traveled with him at age 12 to sing and play before an audience of 5,000 at the St. Louis Folk Festival.  He hitchhiked his way from Yellville, Arkansas to Point Lookout, Missouri and was enrolled as a Senior at The School of the Ozarks.

Then, as now, The School of the Ozarks was known as “Hard Work U” and all students had to work to earn their tuition, board and keep.  One of the many jobs that Jimmy worked was in a cold storage locker where he processed butchered meat that provided meals for fellow students.  That included hand-feeding meat into a power grinder.  That job cost him the loss of two fingers.  And it cost him the ability to play the guitar.

However, it did not cost him his sense of humor.  Jimmy loved to tell the story of how his school friends poked forks into their dining hall dinners of “mystery meat” in search of fingernails.  And how the whole dining hall would erupt in laughter whenever anyone would feign choking gasps and exclaim, “I think I just got a bite of Jimmy Lee!”  And he was particularly amused recalling how the school faculty and high officials were definitely not amused.  Jimmy laughed about that back then and with every retelling for years after.

It is often said that when God closes a door, He opens a window.  With the lost of two fingers, Jimmy Lee switched from strumming a guitar to blowing a trumpet. 

And that instrument landed him in Miss Marybeth Rea’s Band Class.

The very talented Jimmy Lee Craig quickly became star trumpet player in Miss Rea’s Band.  And the Band Played On…  But, for only three short months.

Having learned to play the trumpet, Jimmy Lee found himself called upon to hitchhike from The School of the Ozarks to towns in Missouri and Arkansas for the purpose of playing “Taps” at the funerals of fallen soldiers who’d returned home from Europe, Africa and Korea in flag draped coffins.  For the rest of his life, Jimmy Lee could not hear Taps played without getting teary-eyed for having played it himself far too many times.

And in his honor, as he played it so many times for so many others, let us stand for the playing of Taps for him.

(TAPS)

Thank you.  You may be seated.

Jimmy Lee left The School of the Ozarks before the end of his senior year.  He enlisted in the United States Army and was stationed in France.  He served in the Seventh Army’s Corp of Engineers: the 687th Water Supply Company.   By age 18, he’d been promoted to the rank of Sergeant.

That was until the US army discovered and informed Jimmy Lee that he was, in fact, not eighteen-years-old.  He only was sixteen.  Somehow, between his bootleg-whiskey soaked father and his malnourished and mentally ill mother, his parents had lost track of how many birthdays their youngest son had actually had.   Moreover, he was too young to be serving in the US Army.  However, having already promoted him to the rank of Sergeant, and perhaps not wanting to admit to having made a mistake, Jimmy Lee Craig’s Commanding Officer kept it quiet. 

Jimmy Lee Craig seldom told stories of the time when he was stationed in France.  But he did recall his sincere efforts to learn the French language – which went unappreciated.  He told of having traveled to the French Basque region and to a family-owned restaurant where he had politely ordered “le culin de porc” – the pork chops.  Apparently, his Ozark-twang-accented-French was so awful, that the French family’s little boy who’d overhead the request snickered and giggled which caused his French Mamma to whack the boy upside his head with a wooden spoon.  Jimmy said he’d felt badly about that.  He determined to lose his twang – and so he did.

Another story that Jimmy liked to tell was on his very last day in France.  He and a bunch of his Army buddies had leave for once last trip into Paris before heading home.  While walking down a street in Paris, they paused at the window of a bakery and gazed, longingly, at an array of beautiful, elegant, delicate and delectable pastries.  Éclairs and Crème Puffs, Petit Fours and cakes, all French works of art.  They pooled their last francs and bought out the shop.  Boxes and boxes of fine pastries – a parting gift for their buddies back at the base who were not yet looking forward to going home.  On the ride back to base, Jimmy and his buddies sampled the delicacies they’d bought.  And they were immediately reminded that butter had been rationed in France.  Obviously, there was no butter to be had at all at that French bakery.  All of those beautiful, elegant, delicate works of pastry art had been baked with fish oil.  They were completely inedible.  Thus, despite their best intentions, and at the cost of their very last francs, the intended gift of pastries for their buddies ended up tossed out the window of an Army Jeep on a road outside of Paris where they landed in a cow pasture.

(Background Music/ Trumpet: This Guy’s In Love)

These stories, and many more, were written about in letters that he sent home.  Not to Yellville, Arkansas, but in correspondence that he sent to Miss Marybeth Rea, his Band Teacher at The School of the Ozarks.  And for four years, she corresponded with her star trumpet player, Jimmy Lee, writing him about school and what was happening on the home front.  Those letters included Marybeth’s stories about her summer job – as a stewardess for United Airlines.

Finally, Jimmy Lee received a letter from Marybeth in which she told him that she’d broken off her engagement.

With that news, Jimmy Lee Craig return home from the war with a new mission:  To woo and win the lovely Miss Marybeth Rea.

As he would later tell it, “From the day we met to the day we married only took five years.  She played hard to get.” 

Jimmy Lee Craig and Marybeth Rea were married in her hometown of Branson, Missouri on December 26th, 1955.

And they honeymooned in … well…  the next five decades.  This song was played at their wedding:

Love’s Old Sweet Song.

From Missouri, Jimmy Lee Craig whisked Marybeth Rea Craig off to California. 

He started a new life by legally changing his name to James Lee Craig, and with that name change, felt he’d left his poverty-stricken, “hillbilly-moonshining” Arkansas past behind him.

Just as he had dreamed years before, James Lee Craig was accepted into college at the University of Southern California.

Marybeth began teaching elementary school while “Jim” worked full-time to put himself through college at USC.  He landed a job at Beckman Instruments as an Engineer.  But, the demands of juggling education, employment, marriage  -- and a new family – caused Jim to drop out of Calculus three times – once because his first child was due to be born on the night of his final exam.

Jim Craig would later – much later – joke that he’d graduated with a degree in Business Engineering from USC, “in only thirteen easy years.”

James Lee and Marybeth Rea Craig were blessed by God with two children:  a son, James Kevin, and a daughter, Amy Elizabeth.

Marybeth and Jim raised their two children in a loving, music-filled, Christ-centered home in Whittier, California.

Before either child could read, they were read to.  One of Amy’s earliest memories is of their nightly ritual when she and Kevin would climb into Mamma and Daddy’s big bed at bedtime to listen to their mother read from The Child’s Story Bible.  Amy recalls that this was unlike most bedtime reading rituals with the objective of putting the children to sleep.  Amy remembers her mother’s elbow poking her in the ribs and her Mamma saying, “Wake up.  Don’t fall asleep yet.  We’re almost to the end of the chapter.”  The objective was to tell and teach the stories of the Bible and to stay awake long enough to hear them.

Kevin and Amy both grew up believing that all children went to bed this way.  Cuddled up with their Mom and Dad, reading bedtime stories of Moses, David and Goliath, Daniel in the Lion’s Den, the Birth of Jesus, his sacrifice and resurrection.  They thought that all children memorized Bible verses, took their turn saying grace at the dinner table and played Bible Trivia games on family road trips.  They had no idea how blessed they were to grow up in a Christian home.

Being the children of two musicians, Kevin and Amy grew up in a house that was, oftentimes, a cacophony of music.  Jim would be in his upstairs office working while listening to Chet Atkins on guitar or the trumpet playing of The Tijuana Brass; Marybeth would be in the living room playing the organ for a church service or a wedding or she’d be at the piano practicing the accompaniment for a school musical or holiday program.  Kevin would be in his room listening to jazz and rock-and-roll while, down the hall, Amy’s would sigh over sappy love longs on her record player.  And, inevitably, over the sounds of all that music spilling from every room, someone would holler, “Would you please turn your music down?!”  

Neither Kevin nor Amy could have possibly escaped a home-schooled music education.  Amy learned to play piano.  Kevin learned to play trumpet.  However, it was Marybeth’s prolific writing ability that she passed down to her children -- they both grew up to be writers.   

Kevin and Amy grew up knowing that they had a Grandpa and Grandma, Frank and Nellie Rea, who lived on a cattle ranch and they got to visit at summertime and play with their cousins.  That Grandpa Frank always talked r-e-a-l slow but, it was always worth the wait ‘cause he always had something worthwhile to say.  That Grandma Nellie was soft and sweet and hugged real hard and meant it.  Kevin and Amy knew that they had a crazy Great Uncle Bert who, while mentally ill, was also brilliant and wrote extraordinarily beautiful poetry, even if was written on the backs of paper plates.  And when Uncle Bert came to live with the Craig family for a time, Jim and Marybeth’s children understood; they were patient and listened as appreciative audience to spontaneous eruptions of Uncle Bert’s poetry and fiddle playing. 

This is what we do for our loved ones.  This is what Jim and Marybeth taught their children.  We love each other unconditionally.

Marybeth Rea Craig’s large and loving family adopted Jim as one of their own.  The Reas were the kind of family that he’d never had and always dreamed of having.  Jim Craig loved his sisters-in-law, Doris and Bobbie, his brothers-in-law, John and Peter, his father- and mother-in-law, Frank and Nellie, as if they were his own blood.  He cherished every one of them, their spouses and sixteen nieces and nephews.  They were his own “clan.”  Jim and Marybeth would have done anything for their family.

Jim Craig, sincerely believed, and so stated, that having raised two Christian children was his life’s greatest work and most important accomplishment.

Among his “minor” accomplishments was a Master’s Degree in Business Administration from Pepperdine University.  A successful career as an Electronics Engineer involved with development, design and installation of scientific instrumentation and recording equipment used in private sector research, by the military and NASA at the height of the space program.  Jim had Top Secret Security Clearance and membership in The Association of Old Crows – an organization of various experts working on high-tech and “stealthy” stuff.  He earned a WESCON Award of Excellence for Industrial Design Achievement as a Mechanical Engineer for designing a computer controlled wiring system.  He tinkered with instruments in his garage, once building an oscilloscope out of spare parts – an engineer’s idea of “fun.”  He earned a Private & Instrument Flying Pilot’s License.  And he never forgot the debt of gratitude that he owed to The School of the Ozarks:  For many years, Jim and Marybeth were both active in the S of O Alumni Association of Southern California and worked to raise funds for the school. In 1969, The School of the Ozarks honored Jim Craig with their Meritorious Achievement Award as “Outstanding Alumnus of the Year.”  Later, one of Jim’s smaller contributions was to S of O’s 1974 edition of their Ozark Hospitality Cookbook in which he submitted his childhood recipe for cooking Opossum.  At the time, Marybeth rolled her eyes and said, “S of O will probably take back the Meritorious Achievement Award for that.”

Marybeth was also an overachiever in her field.  She was a public school teacher for 35 years, most of that time teaching kindergarten at Jordan School in Whittier, California.  She played piano accompaniment for every school program and her kindergarten children consistently amazed audiences by out-performing the sixth grade “big kids.”  Marybeth was convinced that children could be taught just about anything using music, rhythm and rhyme.  And she proved that theory, admirably.  Marybeth was honored with the State of California’s Outstanding Teacher of the Year Award for Innovative Curriculum Development using music as a teaching tool.  

When Jim and Marybeth retired, they built a new home on a golf course at Mission Lakes Country Club in Desert Hot Springs, California.  While Jim swung his golf clubs, Marybeth took art lessons and learned oil painting.  And they both took a special interest in the Palm Springs Christian School as well as a Messianic Jewish Temple which became their “church.”  Marybeth worked with the Christian School’s teachers and Jim volunteered his time and lent his business expertise as the school’s Comptroller.  He also repaired and rebuilt salvaged computers and donated those to the Christian School students.

Ten years after Jim and Marybeth retired – two weeks before Jim’s 65th birthday – he was diagnosed with inoperable cancer.

His reaction to this terrible diagnosis was true to character: He turned to the Lord.  And then to his computer.  He researched everything he could learn about his cancer and every possible treatment option and alternative therapy everywhere in the world.  Then, he engineered a treatment plan blueprint.  First item on the agenda – prayer.  Next, he arranged a schedule for chemotherapy infusions insisting that his doctors only poison and sicken him on Mondays and Tuesdays so as not interfere with his weekend golf games.  Next, he got his financial affairs in order, preparing to pass that responsibility to Amy.  And, while undergoing chemotherapy, Jim readied Plan B, applying for admission in a Phase II Clinical Trial of experimental Antineoplaston treatment at the Burzynski Cancer Research Institute in Houston.

The Craig family rallied.  Kevin was already living in with his Mom and Dad at that time; Amy and her husband, Chuck, moved to Desert Hot Springs to be nearby.  Amy offered “meals-on-wheels” for her Mom and Dad, sparing Marybeth from cooking chores and keeping Jim in gourmet cuisine.  And Amy joined her mother in oil painting classes, encouraging her Mom to continue that much-needed diversion.  Amy is especially grateful for having spent every afternoon for many months with her Dad, pouring over financial records and computer spreadsheets “learning the books,” so that she could manage her mother’s financial affairs in her father’s absence.  It gave Amy and her Dad more time just to talk then they’d ever had before.

When chemotherapy failed and Jim’s cancer seemingly “exploded,” Amy and Chuck poured over medical records, fed stacks of documents into a fax machine and obtained urgent admission for Jim to start treatment at the Burzynski Cancer Research Institute.

Kevin volunteered for training at the Burzynski Institute and quickly learned the complicated regimen of twice daily IV infusions plus scheduled dosings of over 70 pills for his Dad to take every day.  Kevin proved to be a truly gifted caregiver, ever vigilant and always patient even on the most difficult days and sleepless nights.  Kevin was inspiring just to watch in his tender ministrations.

Amy and Chuck were on-call, full-time and round the clock.  Running errands, dashing to the stores and the pharmacy for medicine and supplies, racing to the emergency room, taking Marybeth out to lunch or other brief diversions while Kevin was on duty and devising distraction visits from “The Grand-dogs” for Jim.  

On one occasion, Jim and Marybeth, Kevin, Amy and Chuck all attended a Passover Seder Dinner at the Messianic Jewish Temple.  Jim was in good spirits, even poking fun at himself in his new wig, having lost all of his hair to chemo.  This would be their last family dinner together – with much prayer and thanks and music and laughter.

For nearly two years, Marybeth rarely left Jim’s side.  And she never, even for a minute, left him home alone.

Finally, Jim was taken by ambulance and admitted to hospice.  Marybeth followed the ambulance, bringing along a little brown teddy bear that Jim had given to her once when she’d been in the hospital.  For the next 72 hours, Jim only occasionally opened his eyes, recognized a face, mustered a smile, held out a hand to hold.  And there was always someone sitting by his side.  Kevin brought in a CD player and kept some of Jim’s favorite music playing and read passages from Scripture to him.  Amy spent afternoons soothing her fitfully restless father with lotion massaged into his feet while speaking softly to him and how much she loved her Daddy.  Chuck took the early morning shift, reading the daily newspaper to his father-in-law and talking to Jim about anything and everything mundane or important – from the weather to politics to his admiration for the very fine children Jim had raised.

Through it all, Marybeth was cool and calm in a crisis, as always.  Strong of spirit, a comforting mother to her children and ever-present loving wife to the man she kept watch over while he slipped away from her.  To the very end, Jim held onto that little brown teddy bear – the one she brought to the hospital for him, the one he’d bought at the hospital for her.  They were each other’s best friend in the world.  Loving husband and wife for 45 years.

James Lee Craig passed away in the early morning hours of January 26th, 2000 at the age of 67.  Peacefully.  Mercifully.  And greatly loved and admired.

At this time, let us all stand to sing Jim Craig’s favorite hymn – the one he used to sing in the shower every morning: 

Hymn: Great Is Thy Faithfulness.

With Jim Craig’s death, Amy and her husband, Chuck, no longer had a reason to stay in Desert Hot Springs.  And Marybeth no longer had a reason for living on a golf course.  Chuck was ready to retire.  And, in Amy’s opinion, her mother needed to be surrounded by her loving family back in Branson, Missouri.

So, Chuck and Amy conspired and came up with a plot:  If they relocated to the Missouri Ozarks and retired there, Marybeth and Kevin would surely follow.  It worked.  Chuck and Amy moved to Cedarcreek and, not long after, Marybeth and Kevin moved to Powersite.

For the next ten years, Marybeth looked forward to Friday Night Dinners with her brother John and his wife, Velma, her brother, Peter and his wife, Darlene and Kevin – along with appearances by nieces, nephews and their children.  Those dinners were the highlight of her weeks.  She was treated to lunches and outings with Amy and visits with Chuck.  Marybeth was crazy about her son-in-law, believing that the sun, moon and stars revolved around him.  And nobody could make Marybeth laugh like Chuck could.  With Kevin sharing a great big house with Marybeth, they took care of each other.  Up to the age of 85, Marybeth and Kevin went on one-mile long walks, three times a week and Marybeth was in remarkably good shape.

Then, on February 29th, 2012 the Craig home in Powersite was struck by the Leap Day Tornado.  The house was destroyed.  By the grace of God – and with Marybeth and Kevin both being night owls and both awake and sitting in their living room – Marybeth was not sleeping in her bed when the walls of her bedroom blew out.  Still, when the ceiling caved in, Kevin was hit in the head and Marybeth suffered a more serious head injury.  While she survived, she never fully recovered.

For the next three years, Kevin became full-time caregiver to a parent, once again.  For nearly three years, Kevin didn’t get more than 90 minutes of sleep while Marybeth was in home-hospice, needing round the clock care, medications, IV feedings, turning and diapering.  Amy says that Kevin was nothing less than heroic in his care of their mother.  And she is grateful to Kevin for tending to their Mom since Amy needed to be home caring for her husband.  Chuck passed away in December of 2013.  Amy was all the more grateful that her mother was, by that time, mentally unable to know of Chuck’s passing and spared grieving for his death, along with a mother’s heartache for “her little girl’s” loss.

(Background music:  A Daisy A Day)

Marybeth Rea Craig passed away on December 31st 2014.  Her peaceful death in sleep was a merciful blessing after such a prolonged period without quality of life.  In the two years prior to her passing, Kevin and Amy and the Rea family had already felt the loss of Marybeth – of her very bright mind, her very quick wit and all her many fascinating quirks.  But, the funny Aunt Marybeth stories will likely live on in the Rea family for generations.

It was Marybeth’s wish that her urn be buried with that of her beloved husband, Jim.  Today, Jim and Marybeth Craig are together again.  Restored to health in mind and spirit.  Reunited in enduring and everlasting love.  And most assuredly, they have been embraced in heaven by their Lord and Savior and told, “Well done, my good and faithful servants.”

(Close with Ashoken Farewell.  Proceed from Pavilion to gravesite for interment of urns.  Rabbi will lead a capella music, Scripture reading and dismiss the attendees with prayer of benediction.)