Sermon: Do whatever he tells you. (Jan. 17, 2016)

Epiphany 2C

January 17, 2015

John 2:1-11

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

            This week I got a long email from a friend. She is a Christian, and we've talked a couple times about our respective relationships with God. This email was a long account of her faith journey, finally leading up to some recent revelations about her faith and her relationship with God and some steps she has decided to take in her life to be more dedicated to discipleship. Throughout the email were phrases like, “I felt God saying to me…” and, “I listened to what God is telling me…”

            Perhaps this is why, when I read this week’s Gospel lesson, the line I noticed this time around was Mary’s: “Do whatever he tells you.” That’s good advice, don’t you think? Whether it comes from the mother of Jesus or not, “Do whatever Jesus tells you” is certainly advice to take to heart.

            The trouble is, how do you do that? At that wedding at Cana, it was a bit easier, at least a bit more obvious, because Jesus was there in the flesh, giving concrete instructions about filling stone jars with water. Now, filling those jars with gallons upon gallons of soon-to-be wine was not an easy

job physically, but at least those servants had a clear direction. There are many times I would love to have Jesus right at my elbow saying, “Johanna, do this. No, don’t do that. Do this instead.” Though that wouldn’t necessarily make life easier – because, let’s face it, discipleship is hard – it would at least make knowing how to live a life of faith clearer!

            So how can we, 2000 years after Jesus walked the earth, still “do whatever he tells us”? How can we know? It’s an important question to ask ourselves, again and again, as we encounter ever new stages of life.

            So here are some ideas. The first way to listen to Jesus so we can do what he tells us, is to read Scripture. Seems pretty clear-cut, right? But the thing about reading Scripture is that it isn’t like any other reading we do. First of all, you can’t really skim it, like you might a magazine. It’s not always very entertaining, like you might hope for from a good novel. It’s not even really like non-fiction, like the presidential biographies my dad loves so much, or even like theology, which is most of the reading I have done in the past 10 years. Although it may be any of these things at any given time, none of them really capture the way the Bible should be read. Those of you who are participating in our Daily Bible study, in which we are reading through the entire Bible in one year, can attest to this. Right now we are still in Genesis, which is mostly stories and is about as close as we’re going to get to thrilling drama, jealousy, romance and deception. (In fact, that basically describes Genesis!) But even there – Genesis doesn’t read like a history book or novel, nor is it meant to, and even with the stories of sordid family drama alongside stories of great faith, it is not really my first choice to curl up with alongside my cup of Earl Grey for a nice relaxing evening.

            No, reading the Bible is a very different sort of reading. Though you may read it for history or entertainment, this is not the way to read it if you are hoping to hear Jesus’ voice. In order to hear what Jesus is telling you, you must read the Bible as if it is being written just for you. It’s more like a letter from a friend – even, a love letter.

            Do you remember, back when people used to write letters? I was an avid letter-writer when I was younger, keeping in vigilant contact with all my friends from summer camp. Now, of course, email is the more common mode of letter-writing. I recently came across an email thread between Michael and me. It didn’t take long before I realized what it was in reference to – one of the most painful and sad moments we’ve had in our relationship. As I read our pained responses back and forth, I remembered the emotions of that conversation, and I could hear his tone of voice and could sense his emotion as well, because even though these emails were a part of the difficulty of

relationship, it was a relationship with someone I know and love so much, and who knows me and loves me so much.

            That’s how it is to read the Bible. It is like a letter from someone who knows and love you, whom you know and love, and it is addressed directly to you. Just as Martin Luther asks repeatedly in his Small Catechism – “What does this mean for us?” – this is the question we should be asking when we read God’s Word: What does this mean for us, for me, at this moment, at this juncture in my relationship with God? What is the message that underlies these words on a page?

            Another important way to listen to Jesus and do whatever he tells us is, of course, through prayer. But prayer is not just talking! As my elementary school teachers used to say, “You can’t listen if you are talking!” And if we are to listen to Jesus, then we need to not do all the talking. I wish I could tell you from experience how to do this, but this particular aspect of faith is not my strength. Listening is hard, especially when God doesn’t really seem to be talking.

When I was doing my internship as a hospital chaplain, I met regularly in small group with the other student chaplains, and together, we set goals for ourselves for the summer. One of the goals I made for myself was not to be the first one to jump in with something to say in our small group sessions. I hated silence so much, I would always be the first to break it, but others really needed that silence to process. So I made the goal to count to 6 before I said anything. “Six!” my colleagues laughed. “Why not 10?” Honestly, because six seconds was all the silent listening I could fathom! I couldn’t believe they would actually want 10! It became very clear to me in that moment that practicing silence would be one of my most important goals that summer.

            Shiela Cassidy writes about one of her break-through discoveries about prayer: that it is “wasting time” with God. For a culture so focused on productivity, I love this image for prayer. There needn’t be a definite outcome. There need only be time spent together. Last week a friend of mine, a fellow pastor in a different part of the country, called me in tears, asking if I had time to talk. The truth was, I didn’t – it was 2:00 on a Thursday afternoon and I hadn’t even started my sermon! But I said sure, I had time. For nearly two hours, she poured her heart out to me about her struggles with her church, and the fear that she might have to leave her call. I’ll tell you, even though I had so much to do and accomplish that afternoon, it was so clear to me that this was the most important place to be, “wasting time” with my friend. Prayer is like that: it is putting aside the need to accomplish something, and simply listening, for as long as it takes.

            One last way we can listen to God is through our relationships with God’s people. This one is tricky – how can you be sure what you are hearing is from God and not from somewhere else? But God has a way of making you aware of when this is something you need to hear. My dad tells a story about when he was considering retirement. The decision was wrought with fear and uncertainty, as major life decisions often are. He talked about these fears with his friend, before eventually moving on to other topics. One of those topics was the story of how my dad ended up in the call in which he spent nearly 30 years. He had announced his resignation at his previous church, and was leaving June 30. He lived in a parsonage with his wife and two young kids at the time, so resignation meant that by June 30, they’d also be homeless. Yet, he had no other call in the works. He had interviewed with Peace Lutheran in May, but by June, he still hadn’t heard anything. And so, stepping out in faith, they rented a storage unit and arranged to housesit for someone for the month of July. Two days later, they received the call to Peace Lutheran Church.

As he recounted the story to his friend, it hit him like a ton of bricks – they had stepped out in faith then, and God took care of them! Why should the decision to retire be any different? As he described it, “In the loving, supportive context of simple conversation with a faithful friend, in this process of ‘Christian conference,’ suddenly it was Jesus who was talking. And the overtone was there: ‘Do whatever he tells you.’”

            Listening to Jesus can indeed change our lives. This simple advice from Mary, “do whatever he tells you,” is easier said than done. But as we embark on a journey to learn how to do this, we can also trust that when we fail at it, Jesus won’t leave us to drown in our mistakes. He will keep talking, sometimes gently, and sometimes by such extraordinary means that the abundance of joy and grace is as unexpected as it is incomprehensible. However his voice appears to us, may we have hearts open to hear it.

            Let us pray… Abundant God, you will always guide us toward your voice and your will, if we but listen. Teach us to pray, to read your Word, to listen to the ways your voice comes in to our lives, and give us the courage to do whatever you tell us. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Sermon: Why baptism matters to me (Jan 10, 2016)

Baptism of our Lord C

January 10, 2016

Luke 3:15-17, 21-22

            Grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

            “What happens in baptism?”

This is the question I usually ask parents preparing to have their child baptized. Before we go through with this major event – and I do understand baptism as a major, life-changing event – I always take the opportunity to talk about it with parents, and make sure they understand what all they and their child are getting into. The answers I get vary, usually including something about washing away of sins, or becoming a child of God – both true. But I have to wonder… does any of that mean anything to them once they walk out the door of the church?

So with that in mind, what I really want to ask you today is: why does baptism matter to you? My guess is that day-to-day, you probably don’t think much about your baptism, right? So, why does it matter… or does it? What role does the fact that you are baptized play in your daily life?

We can find some clues to how to answer this question by looking at today’s Gospel lesson. The first thing to notice is who the actor is here. In Luke’s version of Jesus’ baptism, who baptizes him? … [assume people will say John the Baptist…] Ah, but Luke never says John the Baptist did it.

By Ranosonar (Own work)
[Public domain],
            via Wikimedia Commons

In fact, those few verses that are missing say that Herod had thrown John in prison! No, it is no human who baptizes Jesus – it is God. It is the Holy Spirit. The Holy Spirit descended upon him in bodily form like a dove. The very same Spirit that baptizes us! And who does the talking? … The Father! A voice came from heaven, “You are my Son, the beloved. With you I am well pleased.”

            And so it is in our own baptism. God does the work. Not the pastor. Not the water. God does the work. This is the response to why we in the Lutheran church typically baptize babies. While Christians who are of the Baptist, fundamentalist, or evangelical persuasion insist upon an adult baptism, in which the one being baptized has the opportunity to state his or her own faith, we baptize these helpless, vulnerable beings who have not done much of anything for or against God. They are mostly passive participants in the reception of God’s grace in the sacrament.

But isn’t that a wonderful image for us for how we come before God? Passive as they are in the face of God’s grace, infants remind us of how we are to receive God’s love: with humble gratitude, knowing that we don’t do anything to deserve this, but God gives it to us anyway. God acts on us and in us. God forgives us. God claims us as sons and daughters. And there’s nothing we can do to mess up that relationship that God establishes with us. Nothing!

The second thing we can learn from our text today about what happens in baptism is from that voice that comes from heaven. “You are my Son, the Beloved. With you I am well pleased.” In baptism, see, we are given an identity: we become God’s child, God’s son or daughter. Identity is not always easy to come by these days. All the things to which we have traditionally looked to constitute an identity – job, hometown, family – look different now. People change careers, they move away from home, they have complex, blended families. But in all the changes that life brings there is one

Found on etsy.com (BehindTheHiddenDoor)

part of our identity that never changes: we are God’s beloved children, through good and bad, and we always will be.

            There are many things to know about baptism, but these points are good ones to hold close: that God has given us this amazing gift of love, forgiveness, belonging, identity, and grace, all of this completely, as Luther says, “out of fatherly and divine goodness, though we do not deserve it.” And there is nothing we can do to mess it up. I find this gift to be both humbling and liberating. I am amazed that God would bestow such goodness on little old insignificant me, bestowing it not because I’m something extraordinary, but because God is. And to think, that God will never take this gift from me – not when I feel worthless, or when I do something that hurts or upsets someone else, or when I doubt my abilities, or when I make a huge mistake, or when I don’t live up to someone’s expectations… All of these things, which have happened and will continue to happen in my life because I, like all of you, am human – they all make me want to doubt that God made the right call in bestowing on me all the wondrous gifts of baptism. If I were God, I might take it back. “Never mind, Johanna, you weren’t worthy of these gifts after all.” But God doesn’t. God does not renege on this offer. God offers anyway.

And that is liberating. What I mean is that suddenly, I start to believe that if God views me as worthy to receive God’s gifts, maybe I shouldn’t doubt myself. And if I don’t doubt myself, then just think what I could do in and for this world! And this is where we start to answer my earlier question to you: what does baptism have to do with your daily life, and why does it matter? It matters because it is a profound statement of God’s unconditional love for you. It matters because it promises us every day that we are forgiven, and in showing us that it also urges us to “forgive those who trespass against us,” and with forgiveness comes healing, and with healing comes transformation. It matters because it assures us that even when we fall short, we still carry with us, everywhere we go, the gift of the Holy Spirit – the spirit of wisdom and understanding, the spirit of counsel and might, the spirit of knowledge and the fear of Lord.

            What does that Spirit, the Spirit you received in your baptism, move you to do in this world? What does the assurance of God’s love, grace, and belonging, give you courage to pursue? For me, that promise emboldens and enables me to love people that I find difficult to love. That includes people I encounter in my daily life, and family members who are more difficult to get along with than others, and even people whom I don’t know except that I know they look and believe and act differently from me. Loving these different people doesn’t look the same for each person, so the Spirit pushes me to figure out how to love all these different people, what it looks like with each. The Spirit urges me not to sit still and be quiet in the face of injustice, but rather to use what gifts I have to make sure all of God’s children have what they need. The Spirit encourages me to do things I’m scared of, to get out of my comfort zone, to go out on a limb for the sake of the gospel, because I can trust that if and when I fail in my efforts to live a life guided by Christ, God will still not renege on the gifts of my baptism. And to me, all of that matters a great deal.

            How about you? Why does baptism matter to you? What does it have to do with your daily life? I gave you my answer. I’d love to hear yours.

Let us pray… Spirit of God, in our baptism, you have promised us forgiveness, grace, belonging, identity, and unconditional love, and we can trust that you will not renege on these gifts. As we celebrate the baptism of our Lord, help us to remember our own baptism, and help us also to discern what you would have us do with this abundant gift to love and serve your world. In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

When I pray the Lord's Prayer

Friends, I am tired. I am tried of seeing shooting after shooting, and knowing that a majority of Americans support better gun control laws, and yet money and greed win out to leave guns that are way more gun than anyone needs, too easy to acquire. I am tired from knowing that no one is safe anywhere - not at the movies, or at school, or at the mall, or at a holiday work party, or even at church - and the thought that what will fix this safety issue is more guns in the hands of more people. I am tired from the lack of care and compassion for Syrian neighbors who are fleeing violence and seeking refuge. And, oh my, I am tired of hateful speech, always present in presidential elections, but never quite so scary as it has been this season.

Yes, it is scary. I am scared - scared about the future of this country, scared that a good number of my fellow Americans actually agree with and support the very same fascist rhetoric that caused the greatest human tragedy of modern history, and is the very model of evil.

In the midst of all of this, I admit, I struggled this year to get into the holiday spirit. I read texts like from Advent 2, "The dawn from on high shall break upon us... and guide our feet into the way of peace," and all I can think is, "Really, God? Prove it."

The only peace I can seem to find these days is putting my Grace to sleep. Those moments when her breathing slows, and her eyes become slits are some of the very best and most peaceful moments on earth. As we have developed a bedtime routine, I have started, when I see this coming, to sing to her the Lord's Prayer. A chanted setting that has been written on my heart since before I can name, singing this is a sacred time for both of us, and one I look forward to each night no matter how tired I am.

And so with Grace and the future of this world into which she was born in mind, I needed to reflect on this Lord's Prayer in light of what is going on. May we all find the strength, even in this tired season, to lift our prayers...

Our Father in heaven
When I pray to my Father/Mother/Parent/Creator in heaven, I believe that indeed this is Jesus' Father, but I also believe that this same God is the God of all creation. It is the very same God to which Jews pray, and Muslims - all those of the Abrahamic faiths. Now, if we all share one God and Father of all creation, what else might we share? Our Father in heaven, teach us to find in each other not what separates, but what we share.

Hallowed be your name.
I know my God to be a God of love. I also know my God is already holy. As Luther suggests, when we pray this petition we acknowledge that while God's name is holy without us praying for it to be, when we pray, we pray that this name would be holy also among us. Because ours is a God of love, I believe this hallowing happens when we treat one another with love. Holy God, make your name holy among us by teaching us to love.

Your kingdom come
Similar to hallowing God's name, we know the God's kingdom is "already" but also "not yet," and by praying this, I believe we name our role in making it more "already" than "not yet." Any time we actively love and serve one another, we are bringing about God's kingdom. God our Ruler, move us toward living into your kingdom through acts of love and service.

Your will be done on earth as in heaven.
Everyone seems to know what is right - whether the conversation is about guns, abortion, how to handle refugees, gay marriage, birth control, the economy, climate change, minimum wage... Of course I have my own (what I consider thoughtful and informed) opinions about all of these things, but I cannot claim to know God's will. What I do know is that God's will is what will bring peace on earth. And so this line, I pray fervently. Wise God, guide our hearts toward your will, and not toward what will best serve our own agendas or desires.

Give us today our daily bread
I have all the prayers in the world for people who are hungry, and want them to have the food they need. But when I pray this prayer, my thoughts are more generally about people being provided with what they most need for sustenance. For too many, this is food. But there are also many people who don't have love, or compassion, or self-awareness, or a spiritual life, or any number of things that leave them feeling empty inside. This emptiness, too often, is what leads people to act out of fear instead of love. I have also taken to singing to Grace a beloved Taize chant at night: "Come and fill our hearts with your peace. You alone, O Lord, are holy." Sustaining God, fill us with what we need the most.

and forgive us our sins
Oh, the humility that this requires. The self-reflection. The self-awareness. To recognize that we might fall short sometimes, that we might have done something to hurt someone else, that we might have done something to hurt God and our relationship with God. In today's climate, the humility to pray this prayer could go a long way. Everyone has an opinion about how things should be, but we think admitting that we might not have gotten things quite right makes us look too weak. People often attack politicians for "flip-flopping," but I deeply admire a politician who can say their views have evolved over time. It is admitting they are human. With this prayer, we must also pray for the humility to recognize the need to pray it. Merciful God, grant us the ability to recognize when we have failed, and the humility to admit it to you, and help us to grow to a place where we don't do it again.

as we forgive those who sin against us.
Perhaps it seems easier just to hold a grudge. Anger and resentment can indeed feel very satisfying - at first. But as it eats away at you. It does not allow us peace. And this, too, is what can lead people to act out of pain, fear, and hate instead of love, peace, and grace. Forgiveness is for the wrong-doing, to be sure, but I think even more it is for the one who putting down the load they have been carrying. Gracious God, teach us how to put down our burdens, and give us the courage to do it.

Save us from the time of trial
O Lord, this is the prayer of those of us who fear! Brene Brown, shame and vulnerability researcher, talks about how sometimes she is filled with such joy looking at her children, and then the fear of something going terribly wrong snatches that joy away and replaces it with dread. I never understood this as well as I do when I close the door to the nursery and go to sleep, knowing how much can go wrong with Grace while I am unconscious in the next room. When I find her in the morning, snoring away through her dear, stuffed up little nose, my heart fills up once again with joy. When I pray to be saved from the time of trial, my prayer is to be saved from the fear and dread that snatches away my joy. Saving God, because of you, we need not fear. Help us to remember that.

and deliver us from evil.
A recurring theme in this reflection - I see over and over again that evil happens when people act out of fear instead of love. Fear builds walls instead of bridges. Fear draws lines in the sand. Fear tears down the other. When I pray to be delivered from evil, I pray that we would be delivered from the fear that guides so many of our actions. God of life, you defeated the fear of death in Jesus Christ. Defeat fear again and again in our hearts, and banish evil from our ways.

For the kingdom, the power, and the glory are yours, now and forever. 
When we speak this line, especially when we do it in unison, we don't say it with nearly enough attention to what we are saying. We are declaring God as omnipotent, powerful, glorious! All this for all eternity! It is a good way to keep things in perspective, a good way to remember that at the end of the day and the end of the age, God is in charge. Omnipotent, glorious God: THANK YOU that we are not in charge.

Amen.
Let it be, Lord, let it be!

Sermon: In the beginning, God recreated the earth (Jan. 3, 2015)

Christmas 2C

January 3, 2016

John 1:1-18

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Word made flesh, Jesus Christ. Amen.

            Many of you know, my husband loves Star Wars. And so the moment tickets went on sale this fall for Episode VII (30 years after the original trilogy ends), he bought some for the very first showing. Being the dutiful wife that I am, I joined him in dressing in costume, and we went to see The Force Awakens with all the other hardcore fans. I admit, I’m not generally a Star Wars fan (though I have enjoyed getting caught up in the hype), but I have to say, without betraying any major plot points: the movie is really, really good. One thing all the Star Wars movies excel at – and this one is no exception – is portraying the constant and complicated battle between light and dark. We saw it in the originals in Luke’s apparent predisposition to join the Dark Side of the Force, and we saw it with Anakin in the prequels, as he was also tempted by the lure of the power of the Dark Side. In Episode VII, the battle is still present with the latest villain, Kylo Ren, who appears to be facing

the temptation to return to the Light.

There are lots of reasons to love Star Wars, as many have for decades, but one reason for its timelessness, I think, is that the basic plotline is one with which we can all resonate. Whether a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away, or right here in the Milky Way in 2016, the battle between light and dark is a constant one. That’s one of the downsides of having free will, you see. From the beginning of time, humans have been faced with the ability to choose, and sometimes we choose light, and sometimes we cannot help but choose dark, and sometimes we can’t tell the difference.

If you refer to Genesis, you can see that the battle began a long time in ago in a galaxy… well, this galaxy, in the Garden of Eden. “In the beginning,” Genesis begins, telling us all about how God created the world, starting with separating the light from the darkness, a separation God deemed “very good.” Finally, God created humans, and with them free will, and from then on God risked the goodness of creation to the whims of humanity. From then on, the separation of light and darkness was not so clear-cut.

            With the fuzzing of that distinction, however, came a depth and richness of experience and emotion. This week I read Grace a story from the book, Does God Have a Big Toe? It is a book of stories about stories in the Bible. The one we read was called “The Tomato Plant.” At the beginning of it, the author comments that in the Garden of Eden, everything was good, and nothing ever died,

but also, nothing was ever born, and so nothing ever changed. One day Adam and Eve notice a tomato plant just outside the Garden wall. It doesn’t look very healthy, not like the tall, lush tomato plants inside the Garden. As time passes, the little tomato plant gets worse and worse, and finally dies. Adam and Eve cry, asking God if they can go take care of the plant. God says of course they can, but if they leave the Garden, they can’t come back. In the first act of compassion, Adam and Eve decide that’s okay, that they would rather care for this tomato plant. And so they do, disregarding the wall previously separating them from the fear and sadness of death. They nurse the plant back to life and health. As they see it slowly start to thrive, they remember also where it was before, and they feel both happy and sad at the same time.

That’s where the story ends – with this complexity of emotion that we feel whenever we exercise that free will God gave us, whenever we make a decision that, even if it is the right, compassionate decision, leaves us feeling so many things at once. That is what happens when light and darkness meet. That is what happens when we experience not only the goodness of creation, but also the amazement of recreation.

            And recreation is what John is getting at when he begins his Gospel with those same words as Genesis: “In the beginning…” When we first heard those words in Genesis, they were exciting, and they were full of goodness and light. Now when we hear them a second time, it is after much more experience – many tomato plants, many deaths and births, many tragedies and resolutions, and even many tragedies without the resolutions we long for. This second time we hear those words, “in the

beginning,” we have a longing for beginnings, for newness, for goodness, because we have seen what a complexity of emotion and experience the world has to offer. The second time we hear those words, the possibility of recreation is life-giving music to our ears, especially in this world in which the sadness, brokenness and death can feel so very overwhelming, and at times, overpowering.

            “In the beginning was the Word,” John says. In Greek, this has many more layers than are apparent in English. Here’s your little lesson in Early Church theology: The word, logos, refers to God’s own wisdom and reason. When God speaks logos onto and into creation, it not only brings life, but also brings knowledge of God into creation – knowledge of God that began in Genesis, and became complete with the coming of Christ. You see, this prologue of John is both John’s version of the Genesis creation story, and Jesus’ birth story. There’s no manger or shepherds or angels in John’s version of the Christmas narrative, but the heart of the story remains that same: in Christ’s birth, God comes to earth, both to know humanity, and to make God’s self known to humanity, to bring a light into the darkness of the world, to mend the world and bring it back to God’s own bosom. In short, God comes in Christ to recreate the world.

            Could this have been such good news back in Genesis 1, before humanity had experienced any dead tomato plants? Maybe, but certainly not as good as it is to us today, as we lament a world full of terrorism, racism, depression, loss, inequality, and injustice. We have seen more than a few dead tomato plants, and though we are finally on the other side of the winter solstice and days are getting longer once again, it still feels like the darkness of the world is trying to win out. It feels like fear is stronger than love, that death is stronger than life, that sadness overcomes joy.

            But God says no, that isn’t true. “In the beginning…” – a new creation. God recreated the world on that dark night in Bethlehem, when the true light, which enlightens everyone, came into the world. And with that birth came the promise to continually recreate, to continually bring light out of

darkness, to bring life out of death.

            At this point, the battle between good and evil has not ceased – there are still Darth Vaders and Kylo Rens, and dying tomato plants, and politicians more interested in money than helping people, and people all over who are ruled and driven by fear instead of love. But there is also redemption. There is also recreation. There is also hope. There is also, always, a light shining in the darkness that cannot be overcome by all that evil. Christ’s birth has given us the courage to cling to that hope, that love shining in the fear, until we find ourselves, finally, basking in the eternal love, light, and grace of God.

            Let us pray… Gracious Light, when the darkness of the world tries to overcome us, keep us fixated on your light and the hope that it brings to our broken world. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.