![]() By Rev. Heather J. Blais, Rector Today’s gospel features the calling of Jesus’ disciples. All four gospels feature an account of how the disciples were called to ministry. Matthew, Mark, and Luke’s versions share similar core details, but it is only Luke who offers us such luscious details. Jesus has moved from his hometown of Nazareth to Capernaum. This small fishing village rests along the shore of Lake Gennesaret (gehn-NEHS-uh-reht), more familiar to us as the Sea of Galilee. Jesus would go on to base much of his ministry out of this village. One sabbath day he showed up in the synagogue, and began to teach.* By day's end, Jesus had healed a man with unclean spirits, Simon Peter’s mother-in-law of a high fever, and many villagers of their ailments. It didn’t take long for people to become hungry for more. More teachings, more healings, a yearning to draw nearer to the Holy One. This only continued to be the case as Jesus expanded his ministry across Judea. Our gospel lesson picks up early on in Jesus' time in Capernaum. Simon Peter and his friends, James and John, have just come back from a long night of fishing. Except these hard working fisher folk have come up short. They returned to the shore with empty nets. Before coming to Saints James and Andrew, I served a small church in a fishing village off the coast of Maine. Many villagers were lobsterfolk, or supported the fishing economy in one form or another. These lobsterfolk were generally self-employed. They would work crazy hours in all sorts of weather conditions, just to bring in a small haul of lobster that could then be sold to a distributor. One of those lobsterfolk was a parishioner. Lincoln was one of the hardest working people I’ve ever met. He gave everything to his work. All so he could provide a modest living for himself and his son. There were good seasons and bad seasons, and the success, or lack thereof, would shape their economic livelihood for the rest of the year. We can imagine what it must have felt like for Simon Peter, James, and John to come back from a long night’s work with an empty net. They were probably feeling defeated. They may have felt demoralized; concerned with the impact on their families. All they wanted was to finish their chores. Instead, they had their days, and ultimately their lives, turned upside down by an encounter with Jesus. Crowds had gathered on the shore to hear Jesus teach. They’d been pressing in on him. So he took matters into his own hands. He climbed into Simon Peter’s boat, and asked him to put out a waze from shore. I can’t imagine Simon Peter was excited by this life opportunity in the moment. He was tired and ready to be done for the day. Yet the cultural norms of respect and hospitality would have led him to do as he was asked. Besides - this guy had once healed his mother-in-law of a high fever. After Jesus was done teaching, he told Simon Peter to head into deeper water and put out his net. Simon Peter was understandably reluctant. He tactfully shared they had been fishing all night to no avail. But in the spirit of hospitality, he told Jesus, If you say so, I will.” Imagine everyone’s surprise when the net was so full, that Simon Peter had to call on his friend’s boat nearby to come and help. Before long these two boats were so full of fish that they were close to sinking. These fisherfolk and the crowd along the shore were in complete amazement. Simon Peter fell to his knees, and told Jesus to leave him. Jesus had implied that Simon Peter should trust and have faith, but he doubted. He let his fear and shame prevent him from believing. In spite of having witnessed Jesus’ incredible healing and teaching. As Simon Peter knelt before Jesus, he recognized this shortcoming. He confessed his sin, or rather, owned the fact that he’d missed the mark. Except Jesus does something unexpected. He doesn’t rebuke Simon Peter, telling him to do better, as a frustrated parent or boss might. Instead, Jesus tells him: “Do not be afraid; from now on you will be catching people.” Jesus is asking Simon Peter, James, and John to set aside their fears, and accept the Holy One’s call to walk in love and fish for people. And they do. When they return to shore with the miraculous haul of fish, they walk away. Away from their boats, the fish, the financial gain it represented, and their very lives. Luke tells us, “...they left everything and followed him.” Because as Richard Meux Benson wrote in a quote I shared a couple of weeks ago, “We emerge from our encounter with Christ as changed people. We cannot follow the same path as before.” ** Each of our gospels features a story focused on the call of the disciples. These stories are meant to remind us of our own baptismal and vocational callings. So often we hear the whisper of Christ, “...calling us from the safety of the shore to an adventure of the spirit.”*** Yet following that call puts us at risk. Because we are agreeing to live by God’s values, to strive for God’s dream, which so often is at odds with the values of the world. We seek to live into our baptismal promises: to ground our lives in scripture, prayer, communion, and community; to persevere and resist selfishness and evil, and when we muck it up, return to God once again; to share the Good News of God’s love in our thoughts, words, and deeds; to seek and serve Christ in all persons by loving our neighbors as ourselves; to strive for justice and peace, and respect the inherent dignity of every human being; and to care for God’s precious creation. Our baptismal call and the promises that accompany it are a tall ask. This has been true in every generation of the Church. Yet we lean into our calling and these values, even when they feel impossible. Because once we have encountered Christ, our worlds are turned upside down. We spend the rest of our lives seeking to follow Christ, and live into these values. We also have vocational callings. Following these calls may feel like an even greater risk. As the call is asking us to step into a specific way of embracing our baptismal call in the world, and the gifts God has given us. Sometimes these vocational callings are as clear as day. We know them from a young age, and embrace them fully. This was the case for my childhood friend Julie, who seemed to come out of the womb knowing she was a writer and singer. When we really pause to reflect, we notice the particular gifts or passions that have been laid on our hearts. These kinds of vocational callings are ones we gladly share with the world, usually without even needing to think about it twice. These gifts or passions seem to be woven into our DNA. Then there are other vocational callings that feel less clear, or are deeply scary. Seeds are planted throughout our lives, and when the garden blooms, we begin to notice that God is inviting us to step into a particular vocation. It's not always clear how or why, but we know we must spend time in that garden. There is a tug on our hearts, as we just can’t keep ourselves away from it. Whether we are working in the soil, or sitting and contemplating the garden. This was my own journey in coming to terms with my call to ordained ministry. And I’ve seen many of you go through similar journeys as you discern where God is calling you to share your gifts with the world. Accepting God’s call is always a choice. We can say no and God will still cherish us. And we very well may say no to God, again and again, and again. Because it just feels too risky. Or would completely disrupt our lives and those we share them with. We wouldn’t want to inconvenience anyone. Yet if God’s inviting us, it’s because God has a reason. A reason that makes it worth the chaos, worth the vulnerability, worth the disruption, worth the uncertainty. Because God is at work in the world, and in us, in ways we cannot even imagine. We love the safety of the shore. Yet what if we dared to embrace an adventure of the spirit? What if we find the courage God has planted within us, and in faith, say yes to God? To see where this adventure and vocational journey might take us, and along the way, experience God’s unimaginable, miraculous catch. As we head back out into our snowy world today, I would invite us into some self-reflection:
Amen. Lectionary Readings: Isaiah 6:1-8, [9-13] 1 Corinthians 15:1-11 Luke 5:1-11 Psalm 138 * Scripture referred to in this paragraph is from Luke 4:31-44 ** Daily Prayer for All Seasons, 54 (adapted). Original text: https://archive.org/details/benedictusdominu00bensuoft/page/52/mode/2up *** Epiphany Collect 5C, Prayers for an Inclusive Church by Steven Shakespeare
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![]() By Julie Carew, Lay Preacher I’m sure it will come as a surprise to few of you that music plays a HUGE part in my life. I listen to music, a lot of it, and have for as long as I can remember. I go through many different phases in my musical listening and tend to get stuck, in a good way, to dwell, if you will, in certain genres for a while and then move on to another, coming back when I want to revisit. And then there are a few specific times when only certain music feels appropriate. Saturday afternoons growing up often meant hanging out in the kitchen with my dad listening to jazz, so that’s a go-to for me at similar times. My husband, Dan, and I have collected many Christmas albums over the years, and even made our own the first year we were married, and those always came out of the box and got lots of use between the end of November and Christmas Day, until the old CD player stopped playing them. In March, our house is filled with Irish tunes, and my son Hendrick knew the words (if you can call them that) to the chorus of “Whiskey in the Jar” from a very early age…. I think this is true for a lot of folks, but I’ll speak for myself here. Music helps me feel things, and can help me to stay in something a little longer, even though it might be uncomfortable. Sometimes it’s something I’m seeking out, sometimes it’s something unexpected that can catch me off guard. But if I’m really listening, it’s hard for me not to be moved by what I’m listening to. So, the first thing that struck me when I read through the passages in the liturgy for today, was thinking of a few songs that have been written from a couple of them. Let’s start with Psalm 84. Parts of the song “Better is One Day” by English singer/songwriter, Matt Redman, were taken right from the text of this psalm, and a few other psalms as well. Here’s how it begins: “How lovely is Your dwelling place, Oh Lord Almighty My soul longs and even faints for You For here my heart is satisfied, within Your presen I sing beneath the shadow of Your wings Better is one day in Your courts Better is one day in Your house Better is one day in Your courts Than thousands elsewhere” And later in the song, “My heart and flesh cry ou For You the living God Your Spirit's water for my soul I've tasted and I've seen, Come once again to me. I will draw near to You.” This song, when I first learned it, and even when I hear it now, is a reminder to me that no matter what I am facing, walking through, wrestling with, I am better off dwelling with God than without, and that I would still choose that, no matter what. It also speaks of longing for God, for the times when we don’t feel as close, having experienced God before, and seeking God again, but not quite being there yet. This song is comforting and inspiring and has certainly been a favorite of mine. The passage from Malachi is a little tougher. Here, we hear of an answer to seekers of a day of the Lord’s return that will be not so comforting. Here, we hear of a refining fire, not exactly warm and fuzzy, to say the least. This isn’t a passage that is comfortable for dwelling in, but I think that’s exactly the point. This passage brings to my mind a song put out by Jennifer Knapp, written by Kim Bontrager, the year before Matt Redman released “Better is One Day”. This song is called “Refine Me” and it’s a beautiful song to listen to, and yet the lyrics are very challenging. “I come into this place Burnin' to receive Your peace I come with my own chains From wars I fought for my own selfish gai …Lord, come with Your fi Burn my desires, refine Lord, my will has deceived me Please come free me, refine m This song speaks of a part of the spiritual process that often doesn’t feel so great, but can also help us to experience and hear from God. There is an acknowledgement that parts of ourselves (sometimes seemingly very good, strong parts) can stand in the way of leaning on God, and a desire for God to help us get those things out of the way- a purification process that brings us closer to God. This is, in a sense, what Jesus’s parents were seeking as they came to the temple in today’s Gospel passage. They made a sacrifice of doves or pigeons for purification, in order to be right with the Lord. This was the system of sacrifices, called korbanot, that were set up in order to allow “access” to God. Rabbi Daniel Kirzane explains that, “Korbanot were used to draw people closer to God. Israelites brought of erings of animals, grain, or money to the kohanim (ko-ha-neem), and the kohanim in turn of ered them as sacrifices to God. This was the main process used to connect ancient Jews with God. People gave up their prized possessions as a symbol of their dedication to God, and this became the most important part of Jewish worship. After the destruction of the Temple in the year 70 CE, Jews stopped of ering korbanot. Instead, they began to of er prayers. The rabbis taught us that we can become closer to God with the words of our mouths rather than with physical sacrifices… …The korbanot teach us that we have to give something of ourselves in order to draw nearer to God. They teach us that it can be easier to come close to God with the help of other people rather than all by ourselves. And they teach us that prayer can be deeper when we use ancient rituals. In all these ways, the korbanot still lead us to holiness today.”1 All of this makes me wonder about how and when I approach God, would you join me in that for a moment?
I wonder if you, like me, find that it often seems like it’s easier to just do things myself, to coast along and maintain, even to ignore the promptings of the Holy Spirit, rather than recognize what is happening, ask for help and pause to seek an answer. When we live with only ourselves in view, it can be easy to put on our blinders and push through, but when we make space for God to reveal the bigger picture to us, as challenging as that can be, we may find ourselves with an opportunity to speak up and speak truth. So, in considering all of this together- the acknowledgement that nowhere is better than in the presence, the company, of God- accessing God’s wisdom, truth, compassion and power; and also, knowing that there can be barriers both in ourselves and around us that can stand in the way- I wonder, what might God be refining in us? What if we allow or even invite that refining? Do we, can we, trust that it will bring us closer and allow us space to truly dwell with God? Worship, whether it’s through song, presence, sacrifice or prayer, is often deeply personal, as we relate to God on an individual level, and it’s essential for each of us to do that. And also, what power there is when we come together- as people open to hearing, seeing and being transformed, in communion with God and each other, noticing all that is happening to and around us, speaking up and acting in truth and love. That’s a place I truly want to dwell. Amen 1 https://www.myjewishlearning.com/article/understanding-biblical-sacrifice-korbanot/#:~:text=Korbanot%20 were%20used%20to%20draw,connect%20ancient%20Jews%20with%20God. ![]() By Rev. Heather J. Blais, Rector Earlier this week, while I was spending time with a set of Epiphany prayers from Daily Prayer for All Seasons, I stumbled upon a meditation, attributed to Richard Meux Benson. Benson was an Episcopal brother and the founder of the Society of St. John the Evangelist, whose order began in England. Benson wrote, “The wise men cannot return to their own country by the same way they used to come to Bethlehem. While they cannot go the same route because of Herod, we cannot go the same way once we have met Christ. We emerge from our encounter with Christ as changed people. We cannot follow the same path as before. Like the wise men, we must seek out Christ, but we will always leave as transformed people.”* We cannot go the same way once we have met Christ. We emerge from our encounter with Christ as changed people. It is this precise change that draws us out of our own worlds, and into our common life as the Church. We gather with those who understand how profoundly Christ has changed us. Together we listen to the scriptures and break bread. We discern how our individual gifts can be shared in community, to strengthen the mission and ministry of the Church. We explore how to embody Christ’s values in a world that seems to value the market, individualism, and power above and before God’s dream. Sometimes finding our way together as the Church is challenging. This was certainly the case for the early church in Corinth, Greece. This city was an important trade center, featuring two ports, and it embodied Rome’s imperial culture.** The church in Corinth was composed of some Jews, but primarily of Gentiles - those who were not of the Jewish tradition. This meant folks from two very different backgrounds were trying to figure out how to be the Church together, while living in the heart of Roman imperialism. Paul wrote to help the community grapple with their unique challenges. One question the community was stuck on was whether it was okay to eat meat from animals that had been offered to other gods in pagan temples? At the heart of this issue, was a more substantive question. One we still have to sit with today: How do we navigate being the Church in a world that has different values? Paul offers many insights in his first letter to the community. One of his most important pieces of advice comes from today’s reading, which is placed immediately before 1 Corinthians 13 - love is patient, love is kind. There will always be disagreements within faith communities, as we are each bringing with us our individual experiences, perspectives, and gifts. It is easier to find common ground and a way forward, when we remember that, first and foremost, we are one body of Christ. Paul writes: “For just as the body is one and has many members, and all the members of the body, though many, are one body, so it is with Christ...God arranged the members in the body, each one of them, as [God] chose. If all were a single member, where would the body be? As it is, there are many members yet one body” (1 Cor 12:12,18). Just as we need our eyes, ears, hands, and feet, we need individual members of the church to bring their experiences, perspectives, and gifts to the body. We are always better when we come together as one body, in service of Christ’s mission. This fall I had the opportunity to see how people learn to work as one body at one of my kids cross country meets. While most people ran as individuals, this particular meet offered a challenge for teams to participate in - the centipede race. Each school could have four of their runners connected by rope, and they would run the entire 5k together as one body. When I saw the kids at the starting line, roped together, I was pretty surprised. It was hard to imagine being able to do that well given they don’t normally practice running as a team. This wasn’t a crew race after all. By the end of the meet, it turned out one of the centipedes fell apart, and never did finish. Another struggled, but persevered and finally made their way to the finish line towards the very end. Yet still another team figured out how to run well as a singular body, and they reached the finish line with an average time, right in the middle of the pack. Watching these teams try their best, or struggle through, was fascinating. They were a reminder of how difficult it can be to do things as one body. There’s no room for ‘my way or the highway’ attitudes, as it would lead to a disaster with everyone moving in the wrong direction. Nor can we refuse to participate, as that will prevent the body from moving at all. We have to slow down, and ground ourselves. As the Church we ground ourselves in prayer, setting our minds on Christ, and trusting the Spirit to help us run the race together. Paul emphasizes that for us to be the Church well, we need each of our many members with our individual gifts. We need people who are called to lead and heal, to teach and feed, to repair and sing. At our Vestry meeting this past week, Kathryn led us in a meditation and bible study where we explored the gifts within our parish. We reflected on how important it is that we continue to help one another see the gifts we each possess, and find ways to share those gifts. When we are able to do this, we are a stronger body. We are better prepared to follow God’s call to be the Church during uncertain times. This past week, we welcomed a new president into office, and we resumed our country’s long tradition of a peaceful transition of power. As is commonly the case, our new president signed several executive orders. No matter what political leaders are at the helm, no matter their political party, those leaders will seek to instill their values into law, setting the tone for the next four years. The challenge for us as Christians, as Christ’s one body, is that sometimes those values are deeply at odds with the values of our faith tradition. The Episcopal Church relies on scripture, tradition, and reason when making sense of how we are called to live out our faith in the here and now. It is through this practice that our church has embraced the importance of welcoming the stranger and supporting humane and reasonable policies when it comes to how we respond to the needs of immigrants, refugees, and migrants. The Christ-child and the holy family lived as refugees in a foreign land, and throughout his public ministry, Jesus routinely advocated that we welcome the stranger (Matthew 2:13-15). Likewise, it is scripture, tradition and reason that has informed our understanding of gender identity and expression, as a spectrum. As such we have supported respectful and reasonable policies that recognize the dignity of each and every person, particularly those our culture has historically placed on the margins, such as transgender and nonbinary folks. As the psalmist proclaims in psalm 139, God created us and loves us for our authentic selves, and that there is nothing that will ever change that. And of course, it is this practice that has informed our emphasis on creation care, and the importance of supporting reasonable and timely policies that help us collaborate with others around the world in addressing the climate crisis. At creation, God charged humanity to be stewards of God’s precious creation (Genesis 1:28-30). We cannot turn our backs on God, and this, the first of all our charges by God. So how do we proceed as the Church? How do we make sense of our mission and ministry as the body of Christ, as the empire we live within pursues, at least some values, that are deeply at odds with God’s values? We begin by remembering we are not alone. We are one body, with many members. While our many members may share different opinions and perspectives, we are united in our shared sense of God’s call to compassion, love, justice, and mercy. This is not easy work, as we are one body in the longest centipede race imaginable. Yet the Church, and other religious traditions, have a role to play in resisting the pervasive fear that is consuming our nation and culture’s common life. Because there is no place for fear in faith. As the prophet Isaiah once wrote, “O God, you will keep in perfect peace those whose minds are fixed on you; for in returning and rest we shall be saved; in quietness and trust shall be our strength” (Isaiah 26:3; 30:15). When we come together as the body of Christ, and set aside our fears for faith, we will know perfect peace, and it will be our strength. That strength will ground us as the body of Christ. The peace and strength that comes from faith will help us to walk in Love. To help lift up our moral responsibility for compassion, love, justice, and mercy. As the body of Christ, we can do our small part, in our little corner of God’s world, to help bring about God’s dream. Our faith will guide us forward. Whatever those in power may be doing, we will persevere in Love: by welcoming the stranger; by respecting the dignity of every human being; by caring for creation; and by uniting in our common call to lift up the need for compassion, love, justice and mercy in God’s world. As we head into the coming week, I want to invite us to set aside our fear for faith, so we might persevere in Love. There are so many opportunities to try this: when we read the news, or see a strong opinion on social media, or listen to people in line at the grocery store, or get anxious texts from loved ones. Each time, let us take a breath, and set aside fear for faith, so we might persevere in love. Amen. Lectionary Readings Nehemiah 8:1-3, 5-6, 8-10 1 Corinthians 12:12-31a Luke 4:14-21 Psalm 19 * Daily Prayer for All Seasons, 54 (adapted). Original text: https://archive.org/details/benedictusdominu00bensuoft/page/52/mode/2up ** Jewish Annotated New Testament, 321. ![]() By Charlie Houghton, Lay Preacher Lord, please open our hearts and minds to your presence as we seek to better understand your good news. Amen. Please be seated. Epiphany and many of the Sundays that follow Christmas are some of my favorites. The gospels are filled with wonderful stories, and this Sunday is no exception. It is the story of a wonderful celebration; a wedding feast. A wedding deserves a great celebration. While marriage is a legal contract between two people being married, Christian marriage is more than just a legal contract. It is a covenant between two persons in the presence of God and the community. It is important and it is sacred. Let’s consider this gospel in the context of the time in which it occurs. Mary, and the brothers of Jesus are guests at a wedding in Cana. Soon Jesus, also an invited guest, and his earliest apostles arrive as well. It is likely that the bride or groom is related to the family. In these times, Jewish weddings frequently lasted for a week or longer. Hospitality was extremely important, with plenty of food and wine for the duration of the celebration. In this time and culture, poor hospitality was a serious affront, and running out of wine would have been the epitome of poor hospitality. The gospel begins, “On the third day there was a wedding in Cana of Galilee, and the mother of Jesus was there.” (John 2:1) And so it was that the first miracle of Jesus’ ministry occurred at a wedding where the groom’s family ran out of wine well before the guests ran out of thirst. While from this point forward, miracles will be quite public, this first miracle is witnessed only by Jesus’ apostles, his mother, and the servants. It is important, however, to think about the last verse of this Gospel: “Jesus did this, the first of his signs, in Cana of Galilee, and revealed his glory; and his disciples believed in him.” When Mary notices that the wine is running low she brings her concerns to her son. Jesus answers, “Woman, what concern is that to you and to me? My hour has not yet come.” Some scholars have suggested that Jesus’ answer to his mother was not particularly respectful, which seems unlikely. Interestingly, the New International Version adds the word “dear” before woman. His mother is clearly not concerned about his answer, however, and overrides him by simply saying to the servants “Do whatever he tells you”. With that simple statement, Mary orchestrates her son’s entry into his public life – his ministry. Mary is a woman of strength and heart. Her initial conversation with Jesus is quiet and without fuss. While he seems to believe that it is not the time to begin his public life, Mary is completely sure that it is time. Once Jesus changes the water to wine and sends it to the host to taste, the bridegroom gets credit for the excellent wine, while Jesus remains in the background. In the miracles that follow this one, it is clear that these wonders are the work of Jesus. They are witnessed by many people, sometimes into the thousands. So why not this miracle? Some scholars think it is because this miracle is meant to prevent the bridegroom’s embarrassment. Others have offered the explanation that Jesus was still a bit on the fence about beginning his public life. And still others have suggested that this is a moment of creating for the joy of creating. This is a celebration, filled with joy and community. And what should we learn from this? I guess we could learn that moms are generally right and should be listened to. Actually, I do believe that Mary has much to teach us in this gospel. Mary’s concern for the young couple is an act of love. She is not concerned with what she can gain from asking Jesus to help them. She also has enormous trust in Jesus, that he will do the right thing. Mary is a woman of courage and faith. She does not have to know where this is going to follow her heart, to allow her faith to guide her. And what is faith? The closest the Bible comes to defining faith is Hebrews 11:1, “Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.” There is so much in scripture that speaks of faith. When I looked to find a scriptural definition of faith, there were so many citations that I quickly became overwhelmed. Finally, taking pieces of different readings and a little of my own twist, I finally came up with this: Faith is much more than intellectual agreement; it means putting your trust in God and having confidence that God will fulfill God’s promises. I sometimes feel like I am stuck in pea soup fog on my faith journey. I can get stuck in fear when I cannot seem to see the way forward. My prayer at these times is a simple plea to help me find the path I should be following. I am reminded of a story from Francis Murphy, a Presbyterian minister. He writes: “A house caught fire one night and a young boy was forced to climb on to the roof to escape. His father stood on the ground below with outstretched arms, calling to his son, "Jump! I’ll catch you." He knew the boy had to jump to save his life. All the boy could see, however, was flames, smoke, and blackness. As you can imagine, he was afraid to leave the roof, but his father kept yelling: "Jump! I will catch you." But the boy shouted back, "Daddy, I can’t see you." Then the father replied, "But I can see you and that’s all that matters.” Just as Christ sees us, and that’s all that matters. Know that is good to be seen. When we are seen, we are not alone. Mary understood this as she encouraged Jesus to fix the wine problem. Mary knew that not seeing God definitely did not equal not being seen by God. Her faith allowed her to move forward even if she wasn’t sure exactly where the path would lead. Five words. “Do whatever he tells you.” This simple yet powerful statement still resonates with us centuries later. Just as she got the attention of the servants at the wedding, I believe Mary is hoping to get our attention now. I can almost see her standing near me today and quietly directing me toward Jesus and softly saying, “Do whatever he tells you.” Amen |
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