The beginnings of the hermit’s life in the Cozia Mountains
Regarding Romanian monasticism, whether in the form of hermitage or communal life, we know that, in the 17th and 18th centuries, influenced by the Hesychast movement, Orthodox spirituality was lived with great intensity, characterised by severe asceticism and the practice of the Jesus Prayer. From the experience of the Holy Fathers, handed down through patristic literature and the lives of the saints, we know how marvellous the gift of the hermit’s life is; yet only those who have been spiritually tested can undertake this path. The hermits laboured at all times and at every hour to mortify the flesh, striving for complete obedience and giving themselves wholly to God. They undertook severe and prolonged fasts, obedience to their spiritual father (even though they were withdrawn from the community, they usually maintained contact with an abbot to whom they were fully obedient) and tearful prayers strengthened by the practice of silence.
In the Cozia Mountains there was an ancient hermit tradition which led Prince Radu, the father of Mircea the Great, to build the Old Cozia Monastery at the beginning of the 14th century. Towards the end of that same century, Mircea the Great built Cozia Monastery, appointing Gavriil, a disciple of Saint Nicodim of Tismana, as its abbot.
Undoubtedly, the primary purpose of building these monasteries was to facilitate the participation of the hermits, who had long been living in seclusion in the Cozia Mountains, in the Divine Liturgy on Sundays and feast days so that they might partake of the Holy Mysteries. From ascetic writings we learn that the location was of paramount importance for those who had resolved to take up the hermit’s life, seeking in particular places where others had lived as hermits, spiritually imbued with the presence of the hermits who had gone before, but also desolate places overrun by unclean spirits, leaving it to the hermits dwelling there to drive out the hordes of demons through patience and prayer. In this regard, a saying from the Paterikon by Abba John, the abbot of Raithos, is pertinent: ‘Let us not defile, O sons, this place which our fathers have cleansed of demons’.
Hesychastic spirituality was, without a doubt, strengthened in our country by the arrival of Saint Nicodimus of Tismana in Wallachia, but subsequently also through the close ties that Wallachia maintained with Mount Athos, for example with Cutlumuș Monastery, from which came the protos of this monastery, Hariton, who became the second Metropolitan of Wallachia (1372–1380), immediately following a hierarch of Greek descent, Metropolitan Iachint (1359–1372), who was also the last Metropolitan of Vicina. It seems that it was Saint Iachint himself, the Metropolitan of Wallachia, who summoned Saint Nicodim of Tismana to Wallachia, with the aim of establishing several monastic lavras modelled on those of Mount Athos. Cutlumuș holds particular significance for us because this monastery is linked to the Romanians’ first contacts with the Holy Mountain of Athos—contacts that are documented, though they were undoubtedly much older.
The hermitic way of life flourished around Cozia Monastery, particularly in the 16th century during the reign of Saint Neagoe Basarab, to the extent that, in the second half of the 17th century, Bishop Varlaam of Râmnic, the future Metropolitan of Wallachia, built the church of Turnu Monastery.
The Life of Saint Daniil the Hermit
This man pleasing to God lived and practised asceticism in the early 17th century, choosing to follow Christ along the monastic path at Cozia Monastery, where sound monastic rules, of Athonite origin, were observed for the ascetic life. Having firmly established himself within the community, he fulfilled all the tasks assigned to him with great diligence, serving earnestly in all the monastery’s affairs, so that he acquired such chosen virtues as self-denial, obedience to one’s superiors, humility and love, turning completely away from slander, judging one’s neighbour, condemning the weak and defaming them, for he used to say that slander and condemnation turn the sweetness of the Liturgy into bitterness and are therefore the gravest sins, both against our neighbour and against our own souls. Although he was held in high esteem within the community, he shunned pride, wisely concealing his good deeds. But he was chosen to be the spiritual father and guide of the entire community, so that he had no time at all for himself, seeking to receive the brothers at any time to offer them useful advice. Through words inspired by God, he taught everyone the luminous knowledge of the mysteries of the holy faith; and, immersing his own mind in these mysteries, he was kindled by them with a longing to serve God unceasingly in chosen tranquillity. He took part attentively in the communal services in the church; yet, seeing that the multitude of the faithful flocked to the monastery as to a safe harbour, it was only with great difficulty that he did not waver in his soul from his much-desired tranquillity. In his spare moments he would shut himself away in his cell, weeping and lamenting inconsolably day and night, for he longed all the more earnestly to serve the Most Sweet Jesus and His Most Pure Mother, desiring to spend his time unceasingly in prayer and in contemplation of God. He even believed that he could be of greater service to the multitudes through ceaseless prayer for them; and for this reason, he longed all the more to be with God, just as Saint Arsenius the Great had reflected, saying: ‘God knows that I love you; but I cannot be with both people and God at the same time’. Therefore, following that exhortation, he considered his life and his time spent in the monastery to be in vain, because he had not fully attained the fulfilment of the words of the Gospel; for in it, says Christ, we are not to worry about food, drink, clothing, relatives, friends or disciples, nor about tomorrow, nor even about ourselves, since human beings are of greater value than the birds and the grass of the field. And if God, the Provider for all, feeds the birds and clothes the field with grass, how much more will He, who is Almighty, feed and clothe those who serve Him, provided they seek first the Kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things will be added to them. For this reason, he had in mind to leave the monastery for a secluded and peaceful place, fleeing from strife and noise; to go to a deserted place where he might more readily fulfil the words of the Gospel. And so he left the monastery with the blessing of his abbot and crossed the River Olt, stopping at the foot of Mount Cozia. As he was already familiar with those parts, he chose a spot where he could dig out a cave. And the rock he chose shows that he was well-versed in the ways of the wilderness, for in those days no one would have embarked on such an ascetic endeavour haphazardly, without first surveying the terrain or knowing how he would live there. The cave that Saint Daniel the Pious made for himself is well situated, facing the midday sun, when its heat is at its strongest, so as to dry the moisture exuded by the sandier rocks in those parts; he even made a small window to speed up the drying process, its opening facing the breeze blowing in from the Olt. Moreover, he was well aware of the woods at the foot of the massif, with their variety of fruit-bearing shrubs, and of course he gathered a little food from them, for from them all the hermits of that time gathered blackberries, wild strawberries, beech nuts, birch bark, wild cherries, fir shoots, various roots of young shrubs, nettles, mushrooms, and all manner of medicinal plants, which they would leave to soak in water overnight and then, the following day, taste a little of the liquid to soothe the inner pains caused by starvation beyond the limits of nature. Being a man of great wisdom, he could not lead his hermit’s life without order, and it is evident that he was aware of its excessive temptations, for he was aware of the superhuman endurance of the holy fathers, who followed the angelic life in the flesh, and from them he was kindled with even greater love for Christ. And only in this way could he endure the immeasurable harshness of the winters, the scorching heat of the parched summers, and the famine that ceaselessly seeks to strike and wound the stomach, causing anyone to despair of their very life. But for Saint Daniel, patience was his guiding principle, as the holy Fathers say: whatever the hermit may have to endure, let him endure it, but he must not leave his place; rather, he must earnestly seek God’s mercy, and he shall be deemed worthy of many unspeakable and wondrous consolations. For the crown is not for those who begin their ascetic struggles, but for those who complete them and give up their souls whilst engaged in them. But above all this, Saint Daniel the Pious, through his hermit’s life, shattered and drove out the unseen camps of evil spirits, and used unceasing prayer as a sharp sword. For the troubles brought upon him by the enemy were not few, as every hermit knows: first he frightens with noises, with crashes and claps of thunder, then through the voices of men or wild beasts, through flashes of light or the appearance of a luminous angel, by which he easily deceives the untested. But the hermit Daniil overcame all these wiles of the enemy, and he exposed and defeated the crafty one. The nature of his patience in the midst of such suffering, and the way in which God’s mercy was with him, is evident from his steadfastness in that cave. For he spent twenty years there amidst such sufferings and arduous ascetic struggles. He became skilled in the spiritual struggle and, being enlightened by the light of supreme wisdom, God placed him as a beacon, so that he might guide others. For this reason, many fathers came to him to ask about the temptations and thoughts they encountered, and they drew upon his wisdom and the keenness of his insight, for he quickly discerned which thoughts stemmed from deception and which were true; he told them which unclean spirits they were struggling with most, and showed them what ascetic practices to employ in fighting against them. And so he became a spiritual father to the hermits and monks.
Here, in complete tranquillity, he was able to offer pure prayers to the Merciful God both for himself and, above all, for the people—for peace in their families, for their well-being, for the alleviation of their hardships, for the old and the young, men and women, slaves and free men, rulers and subjects, and, in short, for everyone and everything. He also prayed that the air might be completely still and that the earth might yield a bountiful harvest. And so it came to pass that one of the saints, whilst still living in this world and having attained within himself the true fruits of the Spirit, which are: ‘love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faith, gentleness, self-control, purity…’ (Galatians 5:22–23). His disciple, the Venerable Misail, also wished to spend time with him; and, as a father to him, he welcomed him and guided him in every good work, regarding him not merely as a disciple, but as a fellow ascetic. And that the latter followed his mentor in all things, we shall show below, in the account of his life written separately. But how much more could be said about this marvellous, pious hermit Daniil, who had distinguished himself by his life and lived in the cave beneath the rock just as a candle burns beneath an icon, illuminating it. Yet his deeds serve to his praise and to our benefit; and now let us speak of his departure from us to the heavenly abodes. For, having been his disciple and fellow ascetic until the Father reached a certain age, he supported and assisted him, comforting him in his frailties, and always finding him radiant and serene in spirit. He did not in the least fear parting from this life, nor did he undergo any change whilst awaiting his death, but spoke with great wisdom of the monastic way of life right up to his very last breath. It was then that the divine longing, which he had hidden in the depths of his soul, for Christ God and His Most Holy Mother, and how great his longing had been to be freed from the bonds of the flesh, so that he might more swiftly be united with Him. With the peaceful end of his earthly life, true life began. His fragrant body rested in the sleep of death, awaiting its awakening at the Last Trumpet. He closed his eyes himself with dignity, just as they close in natural sleep. Likewise, his lips closed naturally, and he laid his hands upon his chest, in the manner customary for those who have fallen asleep. The entire posture of his body was arranged naturally and gracefully, and there was no need for anyone to position or move him. And with his cheeks wet with serene tears—the sort from which joy springs—the Reverend Misail stood motionless, not knowing what to do. He did not dare to disturb the one who had fallen asleep, and even if he had wished to, he could not have done so, owing to the peaceful slumber into which he had fallen for ever. He gathered his strength a little, so that he might inform the other fathers. Immediately, two clouds settled over the Cozia Monastery: one darker, which would rain down drops of sorrow upon the monks who were losing their holy guide, and another, lighter and more wintry, for it was to shower upon those same nuns good hopes, as they had gained a powerful intercessor with God for their needs. In the moments that followed, processions of monks, processions of the faithful, processions of saints, and processions of angels made their way towards Saint Daniel’s cave, all praising his ascetic endeavours and good deeds, and above all his glorious crowning by God. There was no longer any need to prepare his burial, but let us say more boldly that there was no burial at all. For the funeral service was held for him right there in the cave, and they did not disturb the glorious Daniil in any way, deciding to leave his holy remains in the very same cave where he had laboured during his lifetime. That cave had become like heaven to him. For from within it he was illuminated and within it he beheld the Sun of Christ; and in place of the moon he had the icon of the Mother of God, and in place of the stars he clearly beheld the saints. And the cave also became like a Gospel to him, for just as the Gospel signifies the good news, so too did that cave give him good hopes and heavenly promises: dwelling with the hosts of other pious souls and fellowship with the saints. That same cave also became for him a chamber in which to await the Second Coming of the Saviour. Just as the leader of the Apostles, Paul, said, that those who make the law their own and strive to fulfil it will be judged by it; so too did Saint Daniel the Pious shape his life according to the law of the cave, and, having completed his work, was judged by it and found worthy to be with the saints. We too see the fruit of his labour today, as do all the God-fearing Christians who come on pilgrimage to it, for the cave is imbued with the zealous spirit of the Venerable Daniil, whose sacrifice was first inscribed invisibly upon the tablet of his heart, and is now visible upon the stone slabs. And he was numbered amongst the saints, as an offering presented by our people to God the Father, through the Son, in the Holy Spirit.
Saint Misail the Abbot
Saint Misail the Abbot, born of devout parents, entered Cozia Monastery as a young man, living his life in the 17th century. It was here that he met Saint Daniil the Pious and, without hesitation, chose him as his spiritual father and guide; tradition also reminds us that he even became his cell disciple, which reveals, on the one hand, the spiritual bond between the two, and, on the other, the gifts with which the monk Misail was endowed, particularly that of perfect obedience to his spiritual father. Thus, the spiritual formation of the Venerable Misail is inextricably linked to his spiritual father; as a disciple, he shone in the shadow of the ever-illuminated one and was always fervently inspired by the Venerable Daniil. As his closest disciple, he was aware of his spiritual father’s longing for the tranquillity of the desert, and shared in that longing; yet when the Venerable Daniil departed, he was prevented from following him, having been urged to undergo further training within the community and to attain the full measure of a perfect man. Misail obeyed once again, though his heart was heavy and his soul was in pain, as he endeavoured to bear the burdens arising from the absence of Father Daniil, the monastery’s spiritual father. The community sees Misail as Daniil’s unhesitating successor, in deeds, in way of life, and in virtues. And just as gold is refined in many ways in the smelter, so that all impurity and rust may be removed and it may remain perfectly pure, so too has the pious Misail been refined through many kinds of painful trials. But he endured them all, deriving true benefit from them, namely spiritual growth. For this reason, the community deemed him worthy of ordination, so that he might fulfil his calling as a spiritual father and guide. He was very careful in his speech and gave his answers with great thoughtfulness. And his answer was true and most helpful, for his understanding came from the gift of God. For this reason, all received his word with awe, as if from the mouth of God, for God spoke through his mouth. And wherever he encountered any difficulty, he did not linger in that state, but would hasten to the cave ‘behind the tower’, to Father Daniil, and from him he would be enlightened with more profound and illuminating insights, subsequently finding a remedy for all his vexing problems.
He was very careful in his speech and gave his answers with great thought. And his answer was true and most helpful, for his understanding came from the gift of God. For this reason, everyone received his words with reverence, as if from the mouth of God, for God spoke through his mouth. And whenever he encountered any difficulty, he did not linger in that state, but would hasten to the cave ‘behind the tower’, to Father Daniil…
But as he witnessed the progress of the pious Daniil and his superhuman labours, knowing also the gifts that God bestows upon those who labour for Him, he yearned for such a life, and began to feel restless about life in the monastery, longing for a more peaceful life. And, burning with a desire for the hermit’s life, he sought with all his might to free himself from the duties he had at the monastery, and with the permission of the venerable abbot of Cozia, as well as the consent of his spiritual father, he left the monastery and took up residence with the pious Daniel, who, not wishing to drive the disciple away from him any longer, nor to grieve the one whom he regarded as a true son in the Lord, went with him and, having hewn out another cave beside his own, rejoiced in spirit with his fellow ascetic. The cave of the venerable Misail was hewn on the eastern side of the Cozian rock, in much the same way; it was bathed in the morning sun and dried by the breeze coming from the forest. And upon entering it, the Venerable Misail found solace in savouring the sweetness of tranquillity, obeying his mentor to the very end. And he did not part from him until his death, so that he might inherit his good deeds. Thus, praying ceaselessly and following the same discipline as the venerable Daniil, he fixed in his mind the unforgettable remembrance of the true God. He took great care to guard his heart against thoughts of pride and directed his life towards humble reflection and gentleness, recalling the words of the Lord who says: ‘Learn from Me, for I am gentle and humble in heart’. And whilst wearying his body with labour, he lifted his soul towards thoughts of God; and, arming himself with the shield of faith and with prayer, he overcame the wiles of the enemy. Through Father Daniil’s constant guidance, he was protected from any fall, and both lived according to the Lord’s law. They did not concern themselves with earthly matters, nor with the day to come, but laboured their bodies through fasting, vigils and other forms of asceticism, finding comfort in the hope of the Resurrection and the bliss that awaits them in heaven. Moreover, speaking at length of the lives of the saints and taking heed of their deeds, they themselves strove to perform such deeds. And even more so, they were united in the same spirit, always remembering their patron saints, the holy prophets Daniel and Mishael—one who ‘shut the mouths of the lions in the den’, and the other, completing the number of the three young men who were cast into the furnace at Babylon, and who ‘though cast into the furnace as if into a melting pot, were cooled without being burned, adorned with the ornament of true faith’. And as they constantly reflected on the lives of these prophets, they sang their angelic hymn: ‘Blessed are You, O Lord God of our fathers, and praised and glorified is Your name for ever (…). For with a contrite heart and a spirit of humility we wish to be received by You. As a burnt offering of rams and young bulls, as tens of thousands of fat lambs, so may our sacrifice be before You today, and may it find favour with You; for there is no shame for those who hope in You.’ And just as the servants of King Nebuchadnezzar sought to heat the furnace ‘with pitch and tar and flax and straw’ in order to destroy the young men, so too did the hosts of demons seek to intensify the temptations against Saints Daniel and Misael, seeking to shake them from their faith and their labour. But just as then an angel of the Lord descended and ‘made the centre of the furnace like a breath of dew, and the fire did not touch them at all; it did not distress them nor cause them any harm’, so too now, hosts of angels descended with great power to protect them, to ease their trials and to drive away the assaults of the devils. And the hermits Daniil and Misail, just like the three young men, sang: ‘Blessed be the angels of the Lord, praise and exalt Him for ever.’ When they were drenched by the frequent autumn rains and the raindrops boldly penetrated the very places where they wished to stretch out and rest their weary bodies for a while, the holy and pious men did not grumble against God in the least, but joyfully exhorted: ‘Blessed be all the waters above the heavens; praise the Lord, and exalt Him for ever.’ When the cold and frost of winter numbed their bodies and rendered them almost insensate, they still did not grumble, but sang: ‘Bless the Lord, O dew and snow, ice and frost; praise Him and exalt Him for ever.’
When the cold and frost of winter numbed their bodies and rendered them almost insensate, they still did not complain, but sang: ‘Blessed be the Lord, dew and snow, ice and frost; praise Him and exalt Him for ever.’
Whatever troubles were caused by the wild beasts and animals in the vicinity, or by the noisiest birds of the sky, the holy ascetics endured it all, showing their gentleness towards the creation of the Living God, and they exhorted them too, commanding: ‘Bless the Lord, all the birds of the air, the wild beasts and all the livestock; praise Him and exalt Him for ever.’ In short, the whole of the surrounding natural world had become for them a most fitting occasion to serve the Lord, the All-Knowing and the All-Creating, with a pure heart. For in this the Lord has left some of His purposes, veiled and mysterious, so that man, by discovering them, might find Him and glorify Him. And the pious hermits rendered service to God through this, and were not merely moved to do so by nature, but had made their very bodies a sacrifice offered to the Lord, as the Apostle Paul says: ‘Present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God, as your reasonable service’.
And as for the sorrows that the Venerable Misail endured following the passing of his spiritual father into the eternal realm, no one can say; yet one might perhaps comprehend them only if one were to be deprived for a short while of food, water or air. But he was blessed to have been freed from these earthly bonds and to have entered the chamber of his Lord, where a place of rest had been prepared for him. And it is certain that, as the relics of the Venerable Daniil remained there in his cave and were not removed from there, the Venerable Misail would often come and worship the holy relics, partaking of their holiness and adding grace upon grace. And God, in answer to his prayers, granted that a multitude of hermits and other fathers who sought salvation might come to him in the cave, so that, through prayer, He might deliver them from darkness—as from a slippery path—and guide them onto the path of saving light. And he welcomed them all with love; teaching them how to follow Christ, he would send some back to their homes, whilst others remained for a long time near his cave. And many who came and confessed to the Venerable Misail wished to receive the holy, divine, most honourable and life-giving Mysteries of Christ from the very hands of the reverend father, and so they decided to build a small church outside the cave. And they all went to the abbot of Cozia to receive his blessing in accordance with the order of the Church. Having also received the bishop’s blessing, they went and began to build, below the caves of the holy fathers, a small wooden church with a carved iconostasis adorned with icons, dedicating it to the Feast of the Entry into the Church of the Most Holy Mother of God. And the brothers who had laboured on this project also appointed the Venerable Misail as ‘nacealnic’—that is, abbot—and spiritual father there. And almost all the hermits who lived in those mountains, from Stânișoara to Călimănești, from Iezer to Bărbăteștii Pătrunsei, would come here on Saturdays and Sundays, attend the Divine Liturgy, receive Holy Communion, seek private counsel from the Reverend Misail, and then return to their caves and cells. Some had even gone so far as to build wooden cells around the caves of the first hermits, and with the construction of the little church, ‘Daniil and Misail’s Hermitage’ came into being. Yet the holy deeds of this second hermit, the Venerable Misail, who had been a disciple of the Venerable Daniil, did not remain hidden, but resounded like a trumpet across the mountains of Vâlcea, drawing everyone’s admiration. For he was so merciful and loving towards people that he could not see anyone in distress without sharing in their pain and helping them according to their need. Those grieved for various reasons found comfort in seeing him; the hardened and unmerciful were moved to profuse tears upon hearing his humble teachings; the drowsy and the lazy, seeing the extent of his vigil and his endurance throughout the night, were transformed by a divine change, passing unscathed through the stormy sea of life, keeping his mind ceaselessly fixed on God and saying without ceasing: ‘Lord, You are the One who stills the waves of opposing passions and calms the salty sea of this life, and tames the burdensome urges of pleasure’.
And through the building of that little church, into which he would enter to celebrate the Divine Liturgy, whilst also caring for the humble hermits who came to him, the Venerable Misail began to prepare himself for the journey to the Church not made by human hands, the eternal one, which is in the heavenly places, of which Saint John wrote in the Book of Revelation, saying: ‘The Lord God Almighty is its Church.’ Thus, being ready in his heart and untroubled by his deeds, he desired at every moment and was ready at any hour to be released from this body, as the psalmist says: ‘I was ready, and I was not troubled, to keep Your commandments’. But seeing that the time was drawing near for him to be released from and to lay aside his body, he comforted those who were with him, promising that even after his departure from here he would not forsake this place, which he had laboured to establish together with Saint Daniel, but that both of them would safeguard and tend to their hermitage, helping those who lived there, as well as those who would come to that place with piety, as worshippers and dwellers. And when his blessed end drew near, he fell slightly ill, prayed for the salvation of all people, and gave thanks to God for His great mercy, which He had so wonderfully bestowed upon him. Then he joyfully committed his holy soul into the hands of his Lord, Whom he loved and for Whom he had endured so many hardships, and he was numbered among the ranks of Saint Daniel the Pious, his spiritual guide and fellow ascetic. And the hermits who were nearby, upon hearing of the passing of the Venerable Misail, undoubtedly counted him among the company of the saints, for he had possessed such strength as to carry out his hermitage well, without altering his rule of asceticism in the slightest, right up to his very last breath. And their faith was not left unrewarded by God, for on the third day after his repose, whilsthis funeral service in the very same cave where he had laboured, the monk-fathers witnessed this miracle: the relics of the Venerable One illuminated the dark cave as though lit by a fire, and were suffused with a sweet fragrance. And after they had all paid their respects to this great saint, passing also by the neighbouring cave of Saint Daniel the Pious, they left their holy relics there for all the faithful to venerate.
And Varlaam, the Metropolitan of Wallachia, who was then Bishop of Râmnic, built a larger stone church in place of the small wooden one, around the year 1676, for he had previously been abbot of Cozia Monastery and was no doubt well aware of the holiness of their lives and the existence of their holy relics. And at the urging of the holy hermits Daniil and Misail, when he began building the church, he placed their holy relics in the foundation of the altar, leaving the inscriptions ‘Daniil the spiritual father’ and ‘Misail the abbot’ as true testimonies to them. And whilst resting at the foundation of the church, they worked in such an unseen manner that their hermitage grew considerably, becoming a large monastery, and their caves can still be seen today, being well preserved. Many worshippers come with joyful hearts to see the luminous caves and experience that sense of mystery which cries out within them, ‘Marvellous is God in His saints’. Let us, too, therefore glorify the same lover of mankind, the All-Giving One, for the gift of these Romanian and Vâlcea saints, whose struggles no man can recount or write down, save only the One who knows the hearts, He who knows the unspoken and the hidden, Whose tongue is a pen that writes swiftly. He alone has written at greater length, in the books of eternal life, the lives and struggles of the Holy and Pious Fathers Daniil and Misail. And let us pray to the same God that we may find our own names written in the books of eternal life, through the grace and love for mankind of the One who is the source of our salvation, the Lord Jesus Christ, to whom, together with the Father and the Holy Spirit, honour, glory, praise and dominion are due, now and for ever and ever. Amen!