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Showing posts with label Dietrich Bonhoeffer. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Dietrich Bonhoeffer. Show all posts

Wednesday, March 17, 2021

Sermon, Second Sunday of Advent, December 6, 2020, "Is our sin to blame? : Getting from point A to B"

 B Advent 2 OL SJUCC 2020
I Kings 18:17-18; I Kings 21:15-19; Mark 1:4-8
December 6, 2020 

When our kids were younger and consumed by Xbox or Playstation, I would sneak downstairs to play one of their video games.  Certainly, I should have the wherewithal to play whatever game for a couple hours, figure a few things out, and get some enjoyment out of the game.  Inevitably, what would happen, is, within the game,  I would wander around aimlessly looking for a hidden door, tunnel, or way out, get pummeled over and over again, or get shot several times, revive, and get shot again without ever discharging my weapon.  Not able to see any creativity in the game, I repeated the same action and get the same result.  I tried the same door, went through the same cave, pushed the same button, and ended up trapped or wandering around, or dead or all three.  This was usually followed by me, muttering something under my breath like, “These video games are stupid,” or “Our kids shouldn’t be spending so much time on these stupid video games.”  The operative word of transference or projection from player to game, of course, being stupid.  No game is much fun if you cannot figure out how to move through them or get from one level to another. 

Life is like that too.  If one is stuck, not able to move through one life, or, as it were with my gaming exploits, several lives without some direction or accomplishment, then to what end or what purpose?  Alcoholics Anonymous defines insanity as repeating the same action over and over again expecting different results.

Within ancient Jewish mythology, at the time of John the Baptist, the prevalent understanding was that God was in control and in charge, such that if the Jewish people lived under the thumb of some other sovereign and empire, it was because God had ordained it to be so.  I say ancient Jewish mythology because Jewish and Christian mythologies have since developed much different understandings of God’s power and many and varied understandings of why people suffer the scourge of war, persecution, and oppression.  I find myself bending to more Jewish explanations than Christian.

But the Bible is dealing with these ancient mythologies originating in the Babylonian Exile.  Other than the Exodus, the Babylonian Exile was the other major Jewish story that informed Jewish teachers and prophets, priests and people.  That Exile happened long after the Exodus story but some 500 to 800 years before the Roman occupation.  Even before the Roman Empire and its caesars, prophets had told the Jewish people that the Babylonian Empire and its King Nebudchadnezzar were God’s chastening iron rod to discipline the Jewish people.  Empires overran Israel, many of the prophets maintained, because of corporate sin and disobedience to covenant.    

To move from one place to the next, from one level to another, the problem standing in the way was corporate sin and disobedience to covenant.  For the Jewish people to move on, find end and purpose in life, their corporate sin and disobedience to covenant would need a resolution.  

How does a 1st Century Jew move from wandering and wilderness to end and purpose?  Collaborating with the Romans in Jerusalem, the priesthood promised forgiveness of sins for the right price.  It will cost you.  You may remember Jesus pointing out the poor woman who gave everything she had into the Temple Treasury.  Was Jesus pointing her out because she offered such great stewardship, or was Jesus pointing her out because she represented how the Jewish priestly aristocracy took the very livelihood of the most vulnerable in their society?  One of the ways the Jewish aristocracy collaborated with Rome was to say that you should give up the meager resources you had to support the Jewish aristocracy and the Temple built in Jerusalem.  We can imagine how that might have played to the rural population in Galilee.

Meanwhile, there is this lunatic out in the wilderness, the place where Moses encountered Yahweh, the Living God, some 1500 to 2000 years earlier, who seems to be forgiving the sins of the people willy-nilly.    This John the Baptizer is helping people to emerge out of the water, forgiven, able to get from point A to point B, get to the next level from wilderness to promised land by baptizing them in the River Jordan, the same river the people crossed after the death of Moses to get from the wilderness to promised land.  People emerge from this water free, no longer bound by their sin.  The only thing required for forgiveness is a repentance that quotes the Hebrew Scripture prophet Micah with one small change.    “Prepare the way of the Living One, make God’s paths straight,” is the quote from the prophet in the verses preceding the verse we have before us today.  “Prepare or make a path,” says the prophet Micah. 

Rather than prepare or make a path, however, the one small change is the author of Mark using a verb which suggests that the people are not to prepare or make a path but weave, construct, forge,  a new way.   To get from point A to point B, people are to piece together a new path in the shell of the old world.[1]  Resolution has occurred.  Now it is no longer their sin and covenant disobedience that stands in the way of their relationship with God and the land.  Rome and its Caesar are the old shell, and a new path must be woven together from within that shell. 

In the same way, in 1930s Germany, Adolf Hitler tried to head off the critique of those who disagreed with him in the Protestant Church by pointing out their own sins and shortcomings.   Many Christians now wandered aimlessly and in the wilderness, unable to move on Hitler because they rightly knew they were not perfect and without blemish. 

Pastors and theologians like Dietrich Bonhoeffer of the Lutheran Church, through which the Evangelical wing of the United Church of Christ emerged, and Karl Barth from the Swiss-Reformed Church, through which the Reformed wing of the United Church of Christ emerged, and Helene Jacobs who was jailed for forging papers for Jewish people, and Helene Meusel a Berlin Deaconess,  who went the furthest of any preacher or teacher in condemning actions against the Jews,[2] came together to form the Confessing Church and oppose Hitler by reminding the fewer and fewer people who would listen that God’s grace allowed them to hold Hitler and the Nazi party accountable.  These are the anti-fascist ancestors of St. John’s United Church of Christ who stood courageously against a pharaoh, a Caesar, a Führer.  These authoritarian rulers demonized entire peoples and used “sin” as a weapon to say that they, as their leaders,  were God’s chosen one.

Sin, yes, these faithful ancestors acknowledged their sin, but they would not allow their sin to deny them relationship with God nor be unable to hold accountable the evil they saw rising in Germany.   Grace, long ago preached by Germany’s Martin Luther, resolved their sin.  Once grace was observed, people knew that it was no longer God and God’s judgment which stood in their way.  Free from their sin, Naziism and its Führer, Adolf Hitler, stood in their way.

This has been the ancient story from throughout time.  God’s voice is not found in the halls of power or in the most magnificent cathedrals, but on the edges of the wilderness, outside of the main.  God spends absolutely no time on the margins, out in the wilderness, reviling and castigating a people who are already pushed down, regularly imprisoned, and executed for their courage.  The wilderness was the place where the movement started.   As Quaker and New Testament scholar, Ched Myers, writes, the wilderness was that place in Jewish tradition and mythology where a person or people withdrew to gain “both personal strength and prophetic commission to return to [their] people as the agent of revolution against an oppressive regime.”[3]

In our Scripture today, a man, in camel’s hair and a leather belt, the very clothing of the prophet Elijah[4], gives direction and resolution to a movement.  The author of Mark then points to John the Baptist, as the prophet Elijah.  When Elijah’s life was threatened, he went straight out into the wilderness.  Elijah did not blink when he was to challenge King Ahab and Queen Jezebel.  They had falsely accused Naboth, paid off witnesses, and had him murdered so that they could take Naboth’s orchard.  Elijah, came out from the wilderness, spoke with courage to challenge the most powerful in the land.  King Ahab tried to pin the sin of the land on him by calling Elijah, the troubler of Israel.  Elijah would not allow the accusation to curb his courage-he went out and made good trouble.

We are told by the experts and the authorities that our sin is too great, that we do not know enough about economics and politics to make our voice heard.   We are told that faith is confined only to private prayer and polite blessings of our civic activities.  Our faith is to be compartmentalized, private, and kept behind closed doors.  As God draws close, however, a wild-eyed prophet in the wilderness tells us that our sins are forgiven, dunks us in the muddy rivers of the Jordan, and asks us to challenge the powers and the principalities of the world so that Naboth might never be foreclosed on or evicted from the orchard and home he knew, concentration camps and detention centers might forever be a thing of the past, and that God’s peace and compassion might be made real in the wider world.  We are to weave a way, piece a new path in the outer shell of a dying world. 

Rather than judging, God has been waiting, hoping we can see that the way from point A to point B is made by walking it.  The way of a confrontational peace is made by walking.  Our sins are forgiven so that we might be able to get from point A to point B . . . in the world.  May it be so.  Amen.



[1] Ched Myers, Binding the Strong Man:  A Political Reading of Mark’s Story of Jesus,  (Maryknoll, NY:  Orbis Books, 1988), p. 124.  The Greek verb change is to kataskeuasai.

[3] Myers, “Binding,” p. 62.

[4] I Kings 1:8

Thursday, September 20, 2018

A Month of Blessings 3, June 17, 2018, "To be a blessing"


A Month of Blessings 3
2 Corinthians 9:6-12
June 17, 2018
Today we continue a month-long series of sermons, in the midst of so much vile cruelty, pain, and pettiness, to live into blessing.  It is critical that we speak and act justly, that we demand justice from systems and structures, that we step into the maw of violence at times to say, “No more!” and “This shall not be!”
But we also must hold . . . to practice a different way, to offer a blood transfusion into the sick and ravaged collective body.  Sometimes, in a moment, we cannot bring about transformation that is so needed.  We must hold—just keep the violence and cruelty and hatred at bay until the opportunity presents itself.  We practice kindness so that, in our struggle for justice, we do not become the very thing we abhor.  We know ourselves to be blessed by remembering our favorite things.  We practice like the earth does in sharing and giving indiscriminate blessings.  These were our first two Sundays.  We are practicing different sizes and shapes of blessing until it gets into our bloodstream and is typed on every last red blood cell.  We do that until we become what we practice.  We become a blessing. 
This is LGBTQ Pride month.  Big Sky Pride celebration happened this past week in Helena.  And somethings I think we get it all wrong.  We talk about inclusion and the need to see gender and sexuality on a spectrum whereby we might accept everyone on that spectrum.  But here’s what I have told every congregation I have pastored.  It is not about the loss the LGBTQ community will experience if you do not include and accept them.  It is about the blessings people like me will miss out on if they are not a part of my life.  Barb Wenger, Witness for Peace volunteer, saved my life waiting for United Nations busses in Comitán.  Rev.  Timoth Sylvia is not only a great friend but a mentor who teaches me all the creative ways I can do ministry.  And Aaron Blakeslee not only is a wonderful truth-teller for this congregation but an amazing gift for our daughter.  I cannot imagine my life without these incarnated blessings, that the Divine was and is brought close to me through them.
It was Dietrich Bonhoeffer, German pastor and anti-Nazi dissident, who wrote, “A blessing is a visible, perceptible, effective proximity of God.  A blessing demands to be passed on—it communicates itself to other people.  To be blessed is to be oneself a blessing,”[1] 
Blessing has a long history of meanings and roots. The Old English blēdsian based on blōd ‘blood’ (originally to ‘mark or consecrate with blood’) was used to translate the Latin benedicere ‘to praise or worship,’ or ‘to speak well of.’[2] The meaning shifted in late Old English toward ‘pronounce or make happy, prosperous, or fortunate.’ In the Semitic language of Aramaic, the phrase translated as ‘Blessed’ in the Beatitudes was actually tubwayhun which refers to being ripe, mature; having reached a stage of the fullness of the person I am meant to be.”[3]
“So what, then, does it mean to offer a blessing, to be a blessing? To bless something or someone is to invoke its wholeness, to help remind the person or thing you are blessing of its essence, its sacredness, its beauty, and to help remind yourself of that, too. Blessing does not fix anything. It is not a cure… It does not instill health or well-being or strength. Instead, it reminds us that those things are already there, [present].”[4]
At the Conference Meeting in Great Falls this weekend, Rev. Dwight Welch shared one of the things he enjoyed about the Pavlovitiz book study we did this past spring.  Ending each class, everyone in the room was to share something they wanted to bless or were going to bless.  These were powerful moments as everyone in the room, some people unchurched or who had been away from the church for years, suddenly saw themselves with this sacred power available to them.  What are we going to pass on from the Divine that has been shared with us? 
The ability to bless assumes that we are already powerful spiritual beings.  We don’t become that.  We are that.  I don’t think we countenance that too often . . . the kind of power we have—deep, spiritual power.  Henri Nouwen wrote, “To give someone a blessing is the most significant affirmation we can offer.  To give a blessing is to affirm, to say ‘yes’ to a person's Belovedness.”[5]
          This week I am going to send you out into the world to say “yes” to a person’s Belovedness again and again and again, to recognize your own power to bless.  I want all of us to work on making it a spiritual practice.  I want you to share secret blessings, to bless strangers quietly.  Offer it to people you see as you pass them in the supermarket, at the library, out on the street.  Just silently say to yourself, “My you be happy.  May you be at peace.”  Feel that blessing course through your body and out into the person intended.  Recognize that the blessing not only benefits the person intended but also how it moves through you and then multiplies in your body.[6]  Once you start sharing them, blessings grow like a muscle within you. 
          What this blessing practice does is “it alters our attention, making us scan and become more aware of our surroundings.  It changes our attitude toward others.  Just image going through your day looking for excuses to wish people well or think the best of them rather than looking for threats and assuming ill intent.  The practice connects us to others, helping us acknowledge common struggles and hungers.”[7]
          Keep the practice simple.  Do not get too involved or too wordy with your blessings.  “May you be happy.  May you be at peace.”  Or something simple like that. 
          But be disciplined about it.  Try for at least two days to offer at least ten blessings to ten different people.  Then, at the end of the day, meditate on what happened as you blessed and after you blessed.  How did blessing others alter your day?  Or how did blessing others bless you?  If you can write it down[8], journal about it, I’d love to have you share it in worship next week as we bring this month of blessings to a close, only to be repeated again and again without instruction from the pastor.  Ten blessings for ten different people for at least two consecutive days.  “May you be happy.  May you be at peace.”
          You, all of you, are spiritually powerful people.  Affirm that with a spiritual practice of blessing this week.  Amen. 


[1] “Blessing,” Healthy Congregations:  Facilitators Manual, p. 109. 
[2] Ibid.
[3] “Life’s Calling:  Listening to God’s Voice in the World:  June 2018, The Call of Blessing,” Faith Works, p. 7
[4] “Rev. Elea Kemler, Life’s Calling:  Listening to God’s Voice in the World:  June 2018, The Call of Blessing,” Faith Works, p. 7
[5] Henri J.M. Nouwen, Life’s Calling:  Listening to God’s Voice in the World:  June 2018, The Call of Blessing,” Faith Works, p. 7.
[6] Wayne Muller, Sabbath:  Finding Rest, Renewal, and Delight in our Busy Lives (New York:  Bantaam, 1999), p. 47.
[7] “Life’s Calling:  Listening to God’s Voice in the World:  June 2018, The Call of Blessing,” Faith Works, p. 2.
[8]Ibid.

Wednesday, December 28, 2016

Sermon for Christmas Eve, December 24, 2016, "Empathy and mightiness"

A Christmas Eve BFC 2016
Matthew 2:1-12
December 24, 2016
          My hometown UCC church was the largest Protestant church in the small Midwestern community of Metamora.  The other large church was Roman Catholic, some of us secretly whispering about whether the members at St. Mary’s Catholic Church were even . . . Christian.  Even at a young age, I celebrated my theological geekdom by sharing how our Protestant faith was superior just by the fact that we celebrated Jesus resurrected, down off the cross, while the “Catholics” inappropriately kept Jesus on the cross as if the resurrection had never happened.  (said sarcastically) Surprisingly, I found much agreement among people at our church.  That was it.  We were somehow theologically and morally superior to the people who went to the Catholic Church.  Even in grade school, I showed off my mature and sophisticated theological arrogance. 
          Over the years, I have had to reclaim and reinvent my religion so that it is not just about proving that mine is right and more true over and against the religious faith of someone else.  I know I fall short.  I know much of the time I am a hypocrite and a pretender to a radical faith that calls me into deeper relationship.
Ironically, I did my international mission work in partnership with the Roman Catholic Church.  I had somehow advanced enough by that time to recognize that Roman Catholic people could be faithful Christians as well.  Imagine that.  Almost immediately, I was also confronted with my so-called “resurrection faith.”  Walking into the main cathedral in San Cristóbal de Las Casas, I witnessed Jesus not only on the cross but the most graphic depictions of Jesus making his way, crawling, to his death on the cross.  There he was crawling on the Via Dolorosa, the path of pain, bleeding and bruised. 
I was highly suspicious of such portrayals.  For I was familiar with a Christianity that had a romantic love affair with Jesus’s pain and suffering as a substitute for our own pain and suffering.  But as I spent more and more time with the people in that area, I learned that was not what this was.  The meaning clicked for me when I remembered one crucifix outside of a Catholic hospital for the disabled, many people learning how to live with their new disabilities—without fingers, a hand, a foot, or a leg.  This crucifix had Jesus . . . without a leg. 
In a place in the world where poverty, violence, suffering, bloodletting, disease, disability, and death were part of their everyday life, what all this pain, blood, and death represented to the people was that Jesus knew them, empathized with their pain and suffering, and would not let them be alone.  Understand, it was not Jesus standing in their place to take on the suffering and pain of the world.  It was Jesus with them—God with us. 
For me, it was a moment of recognition and responsibility.  If I was responsible for any of the pain and suffering endured by these people, I had to come to grips with their truth:  their pain and suffering was the pain and suffering of God.  God with us. 
Tonight, on this holiest of nights, we are confronted with stories of deep pain and suffering.  What the birth story in the gospel of Luke implies is that Mary and Joseph had to leave Bethlehem to immigrate further north to Nazareth.  And now, so that they can be processed and kept track of in a national registry by the Roman Empire, they must return back to Bethlehem with Mary fully pregnant.  In the gospel of Matthew, the story even hints at a deeper and more scandalous situation with Mary.[1]  In the gospel of Matthew, Magi are independent political advisers who come from the Roman Empire’s only known opponent, the Parthian Empire.  Rome cannot control the stars.  There is a power far larger and deeper at work. 
But that deep power does not stay the hand of the client king, Herod the Great, known as the King of the Jews.  It was a middle finger to Herod that the Magi travel to Jerusalem, come calling to Herod, saying they were looking for the King of the Jews.  And, glory be, the King of the Jews is not you and not found in Jerusalem.  The Romans had a saying about Herod’s ruthlessness, who killed some of his wives and sons to make sure he had no political rivals.  Caesar Augustus quipped, “It is better to be Herod’s pig than his son.”[2]  As a Jew, Herod’s refusal to eat pork would make his pigs far safer than his progeny.  Representing his cruelty, the author of Matthew has the jealous Herod seeking to kill the rival to his title of King of the Jews by murdering all the children under two in and around Bethlehem. 
At a time of great poverty, disease, violence, warfare, and death, these were not stories meant to create some blessed idyll.  These were terrifying stories to say that God knows, God empathizes, God is with us.  In a hopeless world, do not believe that God is somehow absent.  God empathizes.  And the stories are told today to create empathy for people who live on the edge like Joseph and Mary and Jesus. 
Unfortunately, I do not think these stories are that any more though.  They are quaint.  Too often they are told not to empathize but with added details to make us feel safe and warm and glowing around the hearth.  Jesus does not cry.  Mary is radiant in blue as she gazes at the child in contemplation.  And Herod is nowhere to be seen around our crèche.  No worries, our modern-day tellings seem to say.  God has got this.  In arrogance, we tell ourselves that our story is just a little bit better than anybody else’s in the world. But these stories were not written to provide us with an arrogance over against other people and peoples. 
The Christmas story is not about, in arrogance, whose God is most powerful.  The Christmas story is about an empathetic God who is forever asking us, in divine imitation, to seek common cause with the vulnerable of the world over and against the Herods of the world.  It is time we put Herod back in the crèche so that we become the people who provide sanctuary, resource, and even an underground railroad to get the Holy Family safely into Egypt. 
Empathy.  The Biblical stories are told time and again so that our hearts might be moved to empathy.  We empathize.  We put ourselves in their shoes.  If Jews threatened, we become Jews.  If Muslims enrolled, we become Muslims.  If immigrants and refugees, we join hands and say, “Today, in its telling, we enact the Christmas story all over again.”  We empathize and say as we do so, “Certainly, God in Christ is with us.”
It was the German pastor, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, executed at the concentration camp at Flossenbürg, who wrote of the Christmas story that it is God who is in that manger.  He went on to write,
No powerful person dares to approach the manger, and this even includes King Herod. For this is where thrones shake, the mighty fall, the prominent perish, because God is with the lowly. 

Who among us will celebrate Christmas correctly?  Whoever finally lays down all power, all honor, all reputation, all vanity, all arrogance, all individualism beside the manger . . .

And that is the wonder of all wonders, that God loves the lowly … God is not ashamed of the lowliness of human beings. God marches right in. God chooses people as God’s instruments and performs wonders where one would least expect them. God is near to lowliness; God loves the lost, the neglected, the unseemly, the excluded, the weak and broken.[3]

Now is the time to give the Christmas story back its power.  Christians in other parts of the world, particularly those pernicious Roman Catholics, see their lives in these stories filled with poverty, disease, violence, warfare, and death.  So that no matter how evil the time, how despotic the Herod, how hopeless the night sky might appear, they know that God’s angels are winging their way to join hands with the lost, neglected, the unseemly, the excluded, the weak, and the broken and whisper softly in their ear, “God is with you.”  If you find yourself in any one of those categories, this is the night when Emmanuel empathizes, comes close, and refuses to let you be alone.  You are not alone. 
          If you, like me, are not found in any of those categories, it is time to leave our arrogance before we approach the manger as the Magi did and to be overwhelmed with joy that God does not intend to leave the world as it is.  May we be the angels, God’s messengers, who join hands with others to say, “Tonight, not only is God with you but I am with you.”   We take back the power of the story. 
And we also need to be reminded, as the people of God, that we are mighty.   
          In a recent TED Talk, one of my spiritual mentors, Rabbi Sharon Brous spoke of the need to reclaim and reinvent religion.  Brous is best friends with Rev. Otis Moss III, the Senior Pastor at Trinity UCC, in Chicago.  She said that there is a burgeoning multi-faith justice movement in this country that is staking a claim on a counter trend to extremism that says that religion can and must be a force for good in the world.  As we have done before, it is time for us to take the lead. 
          Brous believes our world is on fire.  And it is my job, she says, as a religious leader, to make you uncomfortable and keep you awake to the suffering of the world.  The world encourages your psychic numbing and your belief that you are invisible.  As religious leaders keep you awake, Rabbi Brous also believes we are to encourage your mightiness.  We are to say, “No, we cannot do everything, she relates, but we can surely do something.” 
During the Jewish High Holy days, the only days when the Jewish people prostrate themselves to the ground in total submission, she has added to the ritual.  She then has her people stand with their hands raised to the heavens and say, “I am strong.  I am mighty.  And I am worthy.  I can’t do everything.  But I can do something.”[4] 
Tonight is Christmas Eve.  It is also the beginning of Hanukkah—a time when both faiths light a candle in the deepest night to remember God’s presence.  We say that the night will not overcome or extinguish that light. 
We may be hypocrites and pretenders but God, in full grace, could care less.  God so loves the world.  And the world is on fire. It needs your empathy, your willingness to clasp the hands of others.  Please stand if you are able.  Raise your hands to the heavens.  And repeat after me. 
I am strong.
I am mighty.
And I am worthy.
I can’t do everything.
But I can do something. 
You may be seated.  You are.  You are strong.  You are mighty.  You are worthy.   You can’t do everything.  But you can do something. 
God draws close in empathy for the world.  In imitation, tonight, we tell this powerful story so that once again our hearts might be enlarged with empathy.  Emmanuel.  God is with you.  God is with us.   God is with us.  Amen. 




[1] In the Gospel of Matthew’s genealogy, women of sexual suspicion are included. Why?  Knowing that one of the early Jewish accusations (after the split) against Christianity was that Jesus was a bastard, could this be the author of Matthew rehabilitating Jesus’s story?  Or is it possible that Quintilius Varus, in his decimation of the Jewish revolt city of Sepphoris also had his Roman legions move through the backwater community of Nazareth to rape and pillage around the time of the birth of Jesus?  So Mary is not stoned because all young women were raped? 
[2] Macrobius, Saturnalia, 2:4:11
[3] Dietrich Bonhoeffer, God is in the Manger:  Reflections on Advent and Christmas (Louisville, KY:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2010), pp. 21-22.  The text has been made inclusive. 
[4] Rabbi Sharon Brous, “It’s time to reclaim and reinvent religion,” TED Talk, October 2016.  https://www.ted.com/talks/sharon_brous_it_s_time_to_reclaim_and_reinvent_religion#t-832297

Sermon, Year C, Proper 14, "To know we are loved, then to risk something great"

  C Proper 14 19 Ord Pilg 2022 Luke 12:32-40 August 7, 2022              As I shared two weeks ago, it is the oft-repeated phrase in Luke ...