D o u l o s

The UMaine journal of Christian thought

Imago Dei

by S.M. Dorman

I will write a poem about the rain and compare
its manner of coming down to drool
from umbrella-brims to flick and pool
in sewers beneath the streets, where
the quiet engines and occasional feet
send echoes to negotiate an armistice,
to the firing of the materiel hiss,
to boys at the Somme in the long defeat.

Weakness is the one thing needful
the dropping descent in long surrender
the stance love took if you remember
before the blaspheming of April,
before the smoothing automatic hand,
the cracked cistern, the wasted earth,
the unchecked burn escaping the hearth,
the mirror mangling of the Son of Man.


Re-thinking Pride Week

by S.M. Dorman

The rainbow flag flew all last week over the main entrance to the Memorial Union in honor of Pride Week. Events throughout the week celebrated sexual and gender diversity. One of the common mantras of the movement to normalize this diversity is “no place for hate.” The previous week, Mozilla Firefox CEO Brendan Eich was pressured to resign after it became widely known that in 2008 he had supported Proposition 8 in California, which would have made marriage as defined by the state between one man and one woman. If this situation had been reversed—if he had been forced to resign because he supported a campaign to redefine marriage to include homosexual union—it would have been cited as bigotry. Instead, his resignation is cited as an example of our progressiveness. This language is unhelpful. It makes the homosexuality debate one between tolerance and intolerance, love and hate. If these are the options, most people will choose to associate with tolerance and love. It is not cool to be a regressive, hateful bigot. But this is not the debate at all. Rather, it is which position is right and which position is wrong. And behind this is the deeper struggle: who decides? If morality is determined by the societal majority, then any minority working for change cannot use the language of morality. They cannot say something is wrong and should be changed as long as they are in the minority, because morality is defined by the majority. Thus, when these changes do happen, it is not because one position is intrinsically better or intrinsically worse, but because the majority view arbitrarily changed. Morality is reduced to opinion. So if your view of morality is that it is determined by the societal majority, you can’t work for moral reform of any kind while remaining intellectually consistent. You’ll have to either suspend your feeling or suspend your thinking. If, however, morality is determined by God, and if he has communicated clearly to us what that morality is, then we have a responsibility to work for moral reform no matter what the majority is. We can maintain moral convictions and work for moral change not as an act of pride but as an act of reasonable faith. In this case, morality is more than arbitrary opinion. It is objective, knowable reality. The first case demands nothing from us. If morality is no more than opinion, we are allowed not to care. We are allowed not to sacrifice. We can always be fashionably concerned if it suits our image, but we don’t have to stand up for anything or sacrifice anything. The second case is entirely different. It demands everything. If God determines morality, and if he has communicated clearly to us what that morality is, then we are obligated to listen and act accordingly. A demand is placed on us to surrender our limited perception to his omniscient one. The cost appears high, but the reward is far higher—the reward is restoration. God has spoken in the Bible. The sum of his commandments is to love him with all our heart, soul, mind, and strength, and to love people as much as we love ourselves. One of his other commandments is to not practice homosexuality. These things are not contradictory. The command is to love, and sometimes that means disagreeing with people. There is “no place for hate” towards anyone. We are all deeply broken. This means our sexuality is broken. Everyone’s is. But instead of celebrating it, let’s work towards healing.

Tolerance is not the issue: morality is

by S.M. Dorman

Bowdoin College, in an effort to maintain tolerance, no longer tolerates historic Christianity. The right to promote and defend homosexuality has excluded the right to promote and defend Christianity. Differences of opinion on this issue have been disallowed. But the real debate is not one of tolerance at all, but of right and wrong—and who determines it.

If not in words, this is what Bowdoin has implied by its actions. College officials have banned Robert Gregory, a local lawyer and, together with his wife Sim, long-time volunteer staff of InterVarsity Christian Fellowship, from leading campus Bible studies with students. The college told the Gregorys they had to sign a non-discrimination agreement: in the words of Dean of Student Affairs Tim Foster, “If someone’s participating in an organization and they are LGBTIQA [Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, Intersex, Questioning, Asexual] and they are not allowed to participate in that organization because of their sexual orientation or they cannot lead that organization because of their sexual orientation, then that’s discrimination.” The Gregorys responded by saying that signing this agreement would be a violation of their faith, and proposed an amendment that would allow a reservation for their religious beliefs. This would not force them to teach and practice anything inconsistent with their Christian faith. The proposed amendment was rejected, and as the Gregorys refused to sign the agreement without it, they have been ordered to leave. According to The Maine Wire, “Although [college officials] allege the [Bowdoin Christian Fellowship] has engaged in discrimination, neither provided Gregory with an example of such discrimination. Gregory said Bowdoin’s new policy is not a reaction to anything BCF leaders or members have done.”

This instance illustrates a major problem in the discrimination rhetoric. Common conception is that intolerance and discrimination themselves are wrong, that they are inherently immoral practices. This rhetoric is inconsistent with itself, because it discriminates against discrimination and is intolerant of tolerance. This is logically absurd. You cannot be against being against things.

Thus the issue is not one of tolerance and discrimination at all, but one of morality. As a society we agree that theft is wrong, so we do not tolerate theft. We are intolerant of thieves. That does not mean we hate thieves, but it means we understand that their behavior is wrong, detrimental to themselves, and to society as a whole. The real debate about homosexuality is not tolerance, but of disagreement about what to be tolerant about. The discussion must move past tolerance to what is right and what is wrong.

However, there is a problem here: how is right and wrong decided? Is it based merely on the opinion of the majority, the elite, or those who write in newspapers? And who decides who decides what is right and what is wrong? For theists, the answer is simple: God decides, not us. We would not dare to claim to know what is right and wrong on our own—that is dangerous arrogance. For those who don’t believe in God, and those who don’t believe God communicates truth to us, the only resort is the self. Without God, morality becomes a matter of opinion. This is the real struggle behind the homosexuality debate: what is moral, and who decides?

Life by Death: A Better Master Narrative

by S.M. Dorman

Rembrandt Christ Crucified Between Two Thieves

Self-fulfillment is our generation’s dominant cultural narrative. It’s assumed on campuses everywhere. Two of the most elevated tropes of this narrative are adventurous world travel and apocalyptic romance: to be independent and enjoy multi-cultural adventures, and to find the perfect soul mate, who is never boring or disappointing and will compliment and complete in every way. One of the lowest (yet most ubiquitous) expressions of this narrative is the selfie. This master narrative is clear: self is ultimate. Self-fulfillment is the road to joy. Follow your dreams—and no one else’s. More than any other group of people, college students are both products of this narrative, and serve to advance it. But much of the time we are unaware just how completely we have accepted it, and how dangerous its ramifications are.

I get the strong impression from a lot of folks that I exist to make myself cool: to build myself up like I am my own resume, to have experiences, learn skills, achieve self-actualization, etc. Here at school it is as though we are all trying to build ourselves into our ideal, to make ourselves marketable and likeable. Even as we work to make ourselves attractive, we cling to an ideal of individualism. We want people to respect, admire, and like us, as long as it doesn’t cost us anything personally. We desire affection, as long as it serves us and doesn’t demand the sacrifice of our own dreams. We want community for the sake of what it can provide for our individualistic, self-centered image. This is the master narrative of our generation.

This narrative breaks down in inconsistencies because it is a fiction (the universe does not revolve around us). Centering our focus, energy, and attention on ourselves is contrary to the nature of the universe. It would be like the planets deciding to orbit themselves rather than the sun: it would cause significant problems. Humanly speaking this leads to burnout and disappointment, because we were made to be fulfilled with more than ourselves. It also leads to relationship problems, because two people who are trying to be friends while prioritizing their own self-fulfillment will inevitably clash (exploitation, no matter how well hidden, causes difficulties). This doesn’t mean life is to be one long joyless sacrifice of our own dreams for those of others. I don’t think we are meant to be pushovers, nor are we meant not to dream and not to endeavor to achieve those dreams. But the restless pursuit of self-fulfillment is not the path to real joy.

If the master narrative of our generation is wrong, and has such disastrous ramifications, we need a new master narrative. In the Gospel of Matthew, Jesus makes a painful, striking statement. He says that the way to gain life is by giving it away, that the path to joy is the path of self-sacrifice: “Whoever finds his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it.” In the Gospel of John he says, “Whoever loves his life loses it, and whoever hates his life in this world will keep it for eternal life. If anyone serves me, he must follow me.” Following Jesus means dying for those who do not deserve it. Paradoxically it is here, in dying to self in order to live for Jesus and others, that fulfillment is finally felt and joy is finally found. This narrative causes people to pour themselves out in love for others. This is the narrative our universities need.

“Silence in the face of evil is itself evil.”

by S.M. Dorman

roe v wadeWednesday is the 41st anniversary of Roe v. Wade, the Supreme Court case which legalized abortion in the United States. About 57 million unborn people have been aborted in the U.S. since then.

Looking back at history we often struggle to understand how people can be blind—or just silent—to the evils around them. We don’t understand how the popular conception could be that racism and slavery are normal and unproblematic, or how Germans under Hitler could fail to notice the persecution of millions of Jews. But we are so much a product of our own time that it is nearly impossible to be able to step back ourselves and identify what we are doing wrong, and even if we do, we are usually too scared to say or do anything. This is not merely a passive mistake. In the words of Dietrich Bonhoeffer, a German pastor during World War II who was executed for his participation in a plot to assassinate Hitler, “Silence in the face of evil is itself evil: God will not hold us guiltless. Not to speak is to speak. Not to act is to act.”

This is not a sideline issue: if these are human beings we are aborting, then since 1973, as a nation, we are guilty of 57 million murders. That is what is at stake if you think abortion is right and you are actually wrong. To apathetically write this off is to choose to ignore a practice with more than nine times the death toll of the Holocaust.

In light of this, is abortion actually murder? If life begins at conception, the unavoidable answer is yes. The National Association for the Advancement of Preborn Children cites a number of professors and scientists on this issue:

Professor Hymie Gordon, Mayo Clinic: “By all the criteria of modern molecular biology, life is present from the moment of conception.”

Professor Micheline Matthews-Roth, Harvard University Medical School: “It is incorrect to say that biological data cannot be decisive…. It is scientifically correct to say that an individual human life begins at conception…. Our laws, one function of which is to help preserve the lives of our people, should be based on accurate scientific data.”

Dr. Watson A. Bowes, University of Colorado Medical School: “The beginning of a single human life is from a biological point of view a simple and straightforward matter—the beginning is conception. This straightforward biological fact should not be distorted to serve sociological, political, or economic goals.”

“Dr. Bernard Nathanson, internationally known obstetrician and gynecologist, was a cofounder of what is now the National Abortion Rights Action League (NARAL). He owned and operated what was at the time the largest abortion clinic in the western hemisphere. He was directly involved in over sixty thousand abortions. Dr. Nathanson’s study of developments in the science of fetology and his use of ultrasound to observe the unborn child in the womb led him to the conclusion that he had made a horrible mistake. Resigning from his lucrative position, Nathanson wrote in the New England Journal of Medicine that he was deeply troubled by his ‘increasing certainty that I had in fact presided over 60,000 deaths.’”

Scientific evidence confirms that life begins at conception. In the case of human conception, this means human life has begun. Therefore, to abort at any point after this is to take a human life. There are complications to the argument, such as those regarding rape, or the health of the mother; but however we reason through these issues, we cannot disregard that abortion is the killing of a defenseless human being. This must be the primary and ultimate consideration, for it is the most dangerous one to ignore.


Responding to Peter Jackson’s Hobbit: “There is only one solution for me: to turn my head away.”

by S.M. Dorman

CLH1.WK.Of.1207.Tolkien1.Q.0I tried as hard as I could to enjoy Peter Jackson’s The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug. I knew, like the first film in the installment, that Jackson would take creative liberties, and I was prepared to accept them. He took them in The Lord of the Rings, and for the most part I did not mind them there. I went understanding that a film is not a book. I went with an eye to the film as a film. I went as a Tolkien fanboy.

Halfway through, I was ready to walk out. I stayed for Bilbo. Martin Freeman, of course, is The Hobbit himself. His scenes are perfect; unfortunately, there are too few of them. Maybe I’ll invite him over for tea to read The Hobbit aloud at my hearth.

The visual effects were stunning: Smaug is the greatest dragon in cinematic history, and Benedict Cumberbatch plays him with all due arrogant power. Howard Shore’s score has several beautiful new themes to peak through the noise. The sets and costumes are classic WETA excellence. It was good to see Gandalf again, even in his apocryphal roles. Balin is charming, Beorn terrific, and Bard looks cool. There were some moments of real humor.

But the amount of gratuitous violence overwhelmed the film, and ensured that there was little real dialogue beyond worn-out Hollywood action flick cliches. The characters were left undeveloped, and the plot barely advanced. By the end  I found myself detached from the story, uninterested in the characters, and eager to stay up late reading the book. As a film alone it is a disappointment.

The greatest disappointment, of course, is that this work is attached to Tolkien’s name. This is not The Hobbit. The true nobility of the work has been replaced with unconvincing faux-heroic one-liners and camera shots of the wind in Thorin’s hair. It is brooding when it should be whimsical, overblown when it should be understated. There is no more poetry here: Jackson has taken the nuanced, charming, sublime beauty of Middle-Earth and recast it as an bloated action flick. It is precisely what Christopher Tolkien feared would happen:

They eviscerated the book by making it an action movie for young people aged 15 to 25,and it seems that The Hobbit will be the same kind of film…The chasm between the beauty and seriousness of the work, and what it has become, has overwhelmed me. The commercialization has reduced the aesthetic and philosophical impact of the creation to nothing. There is only one solution for me: to turn my head away.”

I’ve joined him.

Considering Tolkien: Christmas as Eucatastrophe

by S.M. Dorman


Gandalf! I thought you were dead! But then I thought I was dead myself. Is everything sad going to come untrue? What’s happened to the world?

Gandalf! I thought you were dead! But then I thought I was dead myself. Is everything sad going to come untrue? What’s happened to the world?

So far, all of Peter Jackson’s Tolkien-derived films have appeared just before Christmas. This Friday is no exception, with the opening of The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug. While I doubt the studio has ever had many philosophical reasons for this—financial considerations have probably held highest prominence—it is nevertheless the most appropriate time of year for them: Tolkien had a close relationship with Christmas, both in cultural and philosophical ways.

It is not his most popular work, but every Christmas from 1920-1942, Tolkien wrote letters to his children from “Father Christmas,” placed them in envelopes complete with self-designed stamps from the North Pole, and left them in the mailbox. After his death, these letters were collected into a short work, Letters From Father Christmas, which has become a classic of children’s Christmas literature.

However, it is The Hobbit and the Lord of the Rings which have the closest relationship with Christmas: not an explicit or cultural one, but a philosophical one. This connection is grounded in Tolkien’s view of fairy-stories. He was convinced that the best fairy-stories have an ending that is neither tragic nor comic, but one that appears to be impossibly hopeless that is suddenly intruded on by joy. To describe this, Tolkien coined the term “eucatastrophe,” a sudden and unlooked for turn from bad to worse. “The good catastrophe, the sudden joyous “turn”…is a sudden and miraculous grace: never to be counted on to recur. It does not deny the existence of dyscatastrophe, of sorrow and failure: the possibility of these is necessary to the joy of deliverance; it denies (in the face of much evidence, if you will) universal final defeat and in so far is evangelium, giving a fleeting glimpse of Joy, Joy beyond the walls of the world, poignant as grief.”

It is this eucatstrophe that Tolkien saw as the ultimate source of beauty in his work—and this eucatastrophe which permeated his view of Christmas. He considered his sub-created fairy-story  a reflection of the fairy-story of God: “The Gospels contain a fairy-story, or a story of a larger kind which embraces all the essence of fairy-stories. They contain many marvels—peculiarly artistic, beautiful, and moving: mythical in their perfect, self-contained significance; and among the marvels is the greatest and most complete conceivable eucatastrophe. But this story has entered History and the primary world…The Birth of Christ is the eucatastrophe of Man’s history. The Resurrection is the eucatastrophe of the story of the Incarnation. The story begins and ends in joy. It has pre-eminently the “inner consistency of reality.” There is no tale ever told that men would rather find was true, and none which so many skeptical men have accepted as true on its own merits. For the Art of it has the supremely convincing tone of Primary Art, that is, of Creation. To reject it leads either to sadness or wrath.”

He saw Christmas as the eucatastrophe of history, because in the Incarnation, God becomes man, entering the world to bring real life, reversing the Fall in the Garden of Eden, suffering, dying, and rising again to life. As the Gospel of John recounts: “The Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth.” It is not too good to be true: it is too good not to be. To close with the words of Tolkien, “It is not difficult to imagine the peculiar excitement and joy that one would feel, if any specially beautiful fairy-story were found to be “primarily” true, its narrative to be history, without thereby necessarily losing the mythical or allegorical significance that it has possessed…The Christian joy, the Gloria, is of the same kind; but it is pre-eminently…high and joyous. But this story is supreme; and it is true. Art has been verified. God is the Lord, of angels, and of men—and of elves. Legend and History have met and fused.”

The sacred calling of craftsmanship

by S.M. Dorman

klein oneOn the front of a small barn in the coastal town of Blue Hill, Maine there is a sign that reads “Klein Furniture Restoration.” Inside the shop is an assortment of antique chairs, tables, and dressers in the mid-stages of repair. For Joshua Klein, this is a sacred calling: to provide for his family, preserve cultural heritage, and serve his community.

What began as an interest in music—as a guitarist in a rock band—led Joshua to luthiery, the craft of making and repairing stringed instruments. After working briefly at a small guitar repair shop in Nashville, he attended the National Institute of Wood Finishing in Minnesota, where his interest changed course to furniture restoration. Josh saw that the next step was to root this craft in a place, and in 2008 he moved to Blue Hill, Maine with his wife, Julia. At first he did carpentry, working to establish himself in the community, but in January 2010 he hung out his sign for Klein Furniture Restoration. He had expected a slow start, but the business flourished immediately, and has not lagged since.

Furniture restoration is meticulous work rooted in the heritage of the lives of past generations—the antithesis of the current culture of cheap trends and disposability. For Joshua, preserving this heritage is integral to living as a Christian: “We can all take just about every job that exists that is within the law of God and look at it and see the value in it. Preserving culture and heritage is something God sees as valuable…If nobody fixes [this chair], their kid is going to inherit that chair and say, “what is this pile of junk?” and throw it out, and pretty soon no one has anything from their grandfather anymore.”

While he spends large amounts of time alone in his shop, this business has helped give Josh and his family an integral place in the community: “We were here for two years before the business went full time, and we just knew Julia’s family and a few people. I started this business, and now we are woven in all over the place.” This work is a way of living intentionally among neighbors. “Business isn’t so much about doing the service or providing the product; it’s really about people…When I fix their stuff I’m serving them, blessing them; and when they write me a check they’re serving me and blessing me. As a Christian…I’m here as a member of a community.”

klein two

It is this relationship with people that has also been the biggest struggle: learning to communicate with people to understand what they want, meet their expectations, and retain the integrity of the furniture is not easy. It has forced him to become a better communicator, asking follow-up questions and paying closer attention to the answers. “I’m here to serve and bless them and do my best to provide what I said I’m going to do, when I said I’m going to do it, for how much I said I’m going to do it for. Those are the first and most basic things I think about as a Christian running this kind of business.”

Rejoice always: Thanksgiving in light of Typhoon Haiyan

by S.M. Dorman

“This chapel is now being used to care for infants after Typhoon Haiyan destroyed the original facility of the hospital.” (AP Photo/David Guttenfelder)

Last year, the Sandy Hook school shooting came just in time for Christmas. This year, a typhoon struck just in time for Thanksgiving.

I do not mean this as irony, or callousness, or dark humor. I mean that if our celebrations—our holidays—cannot exist in the face of the suffering and pain of reality, then we ought to find some that can, or give them up entirely. If they only exist because we either forget or choose to ignore suffering, they are mere sentimentality. If they have no legitimate response to pain, they are illusory. They are painkillers.

What is wrong with painkillers? First, they limit the capacity for feeling—including joy. Second, if they do not treat the cause of the symptom, but the pain only, then they enable the painless use of what is broken, which usually causes it to break more.

The Philippines are distant, despite technological advancements which have informed us that one of the worst typhoons in their history has devastated and killed thousands. Their pain is distant, too. But part of me wants to feel it, even as they feel it, so that I can grieve more with them, and encourage them. Why should I be glad when they are grieved? There is a deeper and tougher joy in shared grief than in maintaining my own personal flimsy happiness façade. Painkillers—such as holidays that have no legitimate response to this kind of suffering—may alleviate discomfort, but they alleviate real joy, too.

Second, suffering is the result of brokenness. A holiday that ignores the brokenness, instead of answering it, is only enabling the aggravation of that brokenness. If Thanksgiving is a time for me to forget about suffering, and not a response to the underlying cause of that suffering, then it is a comfortable lie. It is loading up on painkillers until I am able to clutch the searing-hot iron and keep on laughing.

For many, I fear this is all that Thanksgiving is—at best, a celebration of all that we have, because it would be unbearable if we had to live in the same poverty as the rest of the world. That is the Thanksgiving I want to reject. I want a holiday that offers a credible response to the suffering and pain in the world—to the typhoons and the school shootings.

The word “holiday” stems from “holy day.” That is what I need: something entirely set apart and wholly other, which responds to suffering not with materialistic inebriation but with sacredness—a Thanksgiving full of gratefulness for what I have received, and full of hope in the face of loss, too. I need a Thanksgiving in the staggering light of Christmas, Good Friday, and Easter; a Thanksgiving not only for what I have been given, but primarily for whom; and although I may not be able to understand the intricacies of the ways of God, and how a good God can allow pain, I can know that he is a God who stepped into the world, took on human nature, suffered more deeply than any other, defeated death itself, and offers real hope and a real cure for broken people in a broken world. Hardly the opiate for the masses, this is a cause for honest celebration.

Our god science: the dearth of the humanities and the dangers of the new scientism

by S.M. Dorman

GE DIGITAL CAMERAScience and the humanities have often stood somewhat apart: sometimes as twin pillars of the same temple, sometimes as opposing fighters in the ring of a cultural boxing match. Historically, universities favored the humanities. Currently, most universities favor the sciences (when I tell someone I am majoring in English, they usually look confused.) There is a growing fear that science is undermining other areas of study and becoming the highest cultural authority, with dangerous personal and social implications.

This debate has recently appeared in the magazine The New Republic. Contributing editor and evolutionary psychologist Stephen Pinker claims in “Science is Not the Enemy” that science is “indispensable in all areas of human concern, including politics, the arts, and the search for meaning, purpose, and morality.” Pinker’s hope is more than that the humanities cease to view science as an enemy, and instead become its disciples and missionaries.

Literary editor of The New Republic, Leon Wieseltier, responds with this warning: “We are becoming a massified, datafied, quantified society, which looks for wisdom in numbers.” His fear is that people may eventually “regard themselves as the sum total of materialistic influences upon them,” and lose the “sense of the mysteriousness of the human experience.” This warning sounds lofty, but if Pinker is right—if science really can comprehend and itemize not only the universe around us but also the human soul and the human experience—then Wieseltier’s warning is a leftover of pre-modern ignorance and superstition.

Pinker’s argument is that as science has revealed the world and given us definite, irrefutable facts of existence, those branches of science dealing with the nature of human beings, such as neurology, genetics, and the social sciences, can give us definite facts of the human experience; and beyond this, can supply answers to the questions of meaning, purpose, and morality. Therefore, the humanities must reject their former ways of determining truth and embrace the sciences as the means to really understanding the human experience. This will give us empirical and absolute truth. This will create the perfect worldview.

However, this all rests on the assumption that science has ever actually given any answer to the question of why. It has described it, beautifully, in great detail. It declares that gravity exists, that it behaves in a certain way, that it accelerates on this earth at a rate of 9.8 meters per second squared. But it has never explained it. Apples fall because of gravity—but why does gravity exist? Dopamine has something to do with my personal happiness—but why? Scientific descriptions of phenomena cannot answer the ultimate why. The realm of science cannot move beyond description; it has no ground to.

In light of this, Wieseltier’s warning is more than a lofty, emotional appeal. It is the dire truth. If people begin to look for ultimate answers of meaning and purpose in that which cannot supply them, they will be given paradigms which are entirely guesswork, worldviews determined by formulas and chemicals. They will utilize material laws to find morality and purpose, which are not material. The preservation and progression of the humanities, which strives for truth and meaning beyond the physical and material, and respects the mystery of reality, is essential. We need William Shakespeare at least as much as we need Isaac Newton. To be human is to be more than time, chance, and matter, and to insist otherwise is personal and cultural suicide.