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You are here: Home / Archives for Covenant

1 Epiphany: A little something about spiritual practice…

January 9, 2022 by Cam Miller

The five promises of the Baptismal Covenant

  1. With God’s help, we will continue in the apostle’s teaching and fellowship, in the breaking of the bread, and in the prayers.
  2. With God’s help, we will persevere in resisting evil, and, when we fall into sin, repent, and return to the Lord.
  3. With God’s help, we will proclaim by word and example the Good News of Christ.
  4. With God’s help, we will seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving our neighbor as ourselves.
  5. With God’s help, we will strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being.

I prefer to write poetic sermons,
at times even sacrificing the “So What?” at the end
for the joy of sharing and hearing it.
It is more fun and challenging
to ring the melody and notes from something like,
a descending dove
with a message that you are my beloved,
than it is to examine if it has any meaning for us.

This is not one of those poetic sermons.

An esoteric conversation with Michael Hartney
about Epiphany, the Magi, and
our Revised Common Lectionary
caused me to read about the evolution of Epiphany
from its absence before 361 CE
and its current use in both Eastern and Western
Christianity.

Having read these tomes of Church history
about the conflicts and controversies
that shaped the modern-day liturgical
observance of Epiphany,
I am left
with the same feeling
as I had when reading about such things
in seminary.
It is the same feeling
that the great lay theologian Verna Dosier
must have felt when she said to young Cam Miller,
after I had delivered
what I thought was a spanky, fresh sermon
at the College of Preachers.
She looked at me and said, “So what?”

Even though I am interested in history
there is something about the history of the Church
that leaves me cold, as in, “So what?”
I think it is because it is so rarely
about things that matter.

So much of church history
seems to me to be like the argument
between Sadducees, Pharisees
and scribes
about whose wife
will a widow be in heaven
because she has outlived five husbands.

First, like so much of church history,
it is an argument about something
we do not know and never will;
two, it is about nothing
that matters here on earth;
and three, it does nothing
to change the social
and economic status of the woman,
and instead preserves an unjust patriarchy.

The reason I mention all of this,
is because baptism itself
gets buried
and neutered in church history.

I mean, it is such a painful irony
that Jesus never looked under the table
to make sure those he was eating with
were circumcised or not,
yet the first thing the church did
was to turn baptism into circumcision —
you’re either in or your out.

Today, and I think all season of Epiphany,
is a wonderful time to focus on baptism —
our baptisms
and the relevancy of baptism to us.

Actually, even to make the claim
that baptism is relevant,
might seem startling these days.

Here is a little living history.
The Baptismal Covenant in the 1979
Book of Common Prayer
is the answer to “So what?”
To my mind, the five promises
of the Baptismal Covenant
that we will be sharing each week of Epiphany,
matter.

They put flesh on the bones
of our beliefs.
The covenant says, “this is what it looks like
to practice Christianity.”
It says, “we believe
the ‘So what?’ of our faith
is these five commitments
that will make us different.”
The Covenant asks, “this is what I do,
will you join me in doing it?”

The five promises of the Baptismal Covenant
are not an argument
about angels on the head of a pin,
or the nature of Jesus,
or three-in-one or one-in-three.
Instead, our covenant is a DEscription
of how to practice Christianity.
It is a DEscription
of the “So what?” of our practice.
It is a DEscription
of the plumb line we use
to measure how we are doing.

Unlike so much of Christianity yesterday and today,
it is not about espousing beliefs
and shoving them down other people’s throats.

It is descriptive not prescriptive.

Our covenant is not a PREscription
because The Episcopal Church
does not understand its authority
as prescriptive.
Any authority we have
rests in the integrity of our practice:
the distance between our five promises
and how we actually live our lives.

Scrubbing clean our soul or heart
from original sin
so that we can enter heaven,
is not what baptism is about.
If you want to know how baptism got
so terribly corrupted
and turned into a ticket out of hell,
then read some church history.
It is not a pretty story.

Rather, baptism is about how we practice Christianity.

For those of us who were baptized as infants,
it started with a promise from our parents
that we would be raised in the community of faith
so that we could come to understand
the Baptismal Covenant
and to learn the wisdom of Jesus.

But baptism became ours
when we were Confirmed,
or if not Confirmed,
when we embraced Christianity as our own
rather than a club we just grew up in.

If I can keep from getting distracted,
I am going to continuously bring us back
to the five promises throughout Epiphany,
using them as a meditative focus.
So to begin that,
please notice two things.

The first thing to note
is that our own congregational mission statement
is based upon and rooted in
one of those promises —
“to respect the dignity of every human being.”

And actually, so is the second sentence,
”and treat each person entering our doors
as if that person is Christ.”
That reflects the promise to “seek and serve Christ
in all persons…” — as opposed to only some persons.

And that mission statement wisely connects
all of this to both our personal lives
and our life together in community —
as if they are the same,
as if it is a practice
we are engaged in
no matter where we are.

Finally, I want to draw our focus
to the statement, “With God’s help…”
Without that caveat
these promises would be an arrogant
and soul-less list of test questions —
as in, are you good enough
or have you been successful enough.

”With God’s help…”
acknowledges that we are incapable
of a meaningful practice without God’s help.
We are dependent.
The covenant
is not the promise of a personal achievement
or New Year’s resolution
we fulfill or not.
It is not a Scout’s Promise
or Pledge of Allegiance,
or any other kind of loyalty oath
or standard of perfection.

”With God’s help…”
means that our spiritual practice,
from the very beginning,
is an act of surrender.
Just like the first step of Alcoholic’s Anonymous
that acknowledges powerlessness over alcohol,
”With God’s help…”
acknowledges our powerlessness
to engage in a meaningful spiritual practice
without openness to the presence of God in our midst.

So even before we begin the practice
of the Baptismal Covenant,
we acknowledge our powerlessness
and then welcome God’s help —
the first steps
in our spiritual path.

It is a tough and challenging place to begin:
acknowledging our dependence
and opening ourselves to God’s participation.

You and I have this spiritual practice,
or craft, as young Amanda Gordon calls it.
She may not have had the Baptismal Covenant
in mind when she wrote that poem, but it works:

“Every day we are learning
how to live with essence, not ease.
How to move with haste, never hate.
How to leave this pain that is beyond us,
behind us.
Just like a skill or any art,
We cannot possess hope without practicing it…”

We have a concrete and doable practice of hope
we call Christianity,
and it is described with five promises —
each with a powerful
and sometimes radical, “So what?”

More next time.

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5 Epiphany, A 2020: Cause & Effect, Not Crime & Punishment

February 9, 2020 by Cam Miller

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/en:Creative_Commons

I don’t really know
where to go with Isaiah and Matthew today.
They are so anti-Christian,
or at least “anti”
Puritan-Capitalist-Civil Religion brand of Christianity
that passes for a Gospel faith these days.
(Not to put too fine a point on it).

Let me just to cut to the chase.
Isaiah, speaking for God, is basically saying,
“Look, if you want me to listen to you;
if you want me to DO anything for you…
THEN share your bread with the hungry;
THEN bring the homeless into your house;
THEN clothe those who need it;
THEN satisfy the needs of the afflicted.
You do that
THEN when you call me, I will be there.
You do that
THEN when you screw up, I will be there.
You do that
THEN your life,
and the very memory of your life,
will shine on and on and on and on.”

Notice the “If…then.”
God is conditional,
at least according to Isaiah and Matthew.

Mathew is even more direct about it than Isaiah:
“For I tell you,
unless your righteousness exceeds
that of the scribes and Pharisees –
(think lawyers and preachers) –
you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.”
Now how Neanderthal is that!
We don’t like that kind of talk.
We like the soft, cushy, therapeutic
American culture of empowerment language
that discourages conditional relationships.
“Come on,
Isaiah and Matthew,
you’re going to give us a complex.”

Don’t get me wrong,
I am as modernist as anyone here,
and I get the problem we have with conditionality;
but when it comes to our religion,
conditionality gets ignorantly labeled
as the “Old Testament God.”

There is no “Old Testament” God
in contrast to a kinder, gentler “New Testament God.”
That is a Sunday School falsehood.

In order to make such a contrast
we have to utterly ignore the deep compassion
and mercy-loving God of the Hebrew text,
and then close our ears
to the vengeful and threatening God
of the New Testament.

The fact is, we have a multi-dimensional God
that cannot be segregated into
Old Testament and New Testament
without amputation.
What we do have,
in both the so-called “Testaments,”
is the image of a deeply wise God
that understands human nature
with exquisite if painful, depth and clarity.

Well, I’ve gone this far –
I might as well go the distance
and be an apostate
by uttering this modern blasphemy:

There is no such thing as unconditional love
or unconditional relationships.
The notion of unconditional love
or an unconditional relationship
is pure fantasy –
or delusion, whichever you prefer.

Who in their right mind,and that is an important distinction,
would unconditionally accept any kind of abuse,
betrayal or deceit?
No one…not in their right mind.

I don’t think there is anything
that could ever cause me to stop caring for
and wanting the best for my children,
but there are roads they could journey down
on my relationship with them.
That is what “tough love” is all about,
and having been an addict myself
I know how self-centered
and abusive a person can be.

Relationships are based upon conditions,
and should be.
Love, among the saintliest of us,
may not meet a final condition
but behavior certainly can and should be conditional.
The prophets, among whom I include Jesus,
were quite perceptive
in their understanding of God.

They understood that God loves us,
probably unconditionally
as indeed we are the fruit of her womb.
But they also understood that God
set out conditions for our relationship:
“If you do this, I will do this…”.
They understood those conditions,
not as “crime and punishment”
but as “cause and effect.”

I want us to stop and think about the differences
in those two kinds of conditionality –
crime and punishment
verses cause and effect.

We hear godly conditions set down
and reject themas crime and punishment,
and label such talk as “primitive” and “Old Testament.”

But setting limits on God’s relationship with us
is not small-minded or punitive;
it is the law of natural consequences,
a law governing all of Nature…the entire Cosmos.
If we engage in this kind behavior,
God promises,
then these kinds of things will happen
and life will be good for us.

If we engage in those other behaviors
then those other things will happen
and it will not go so well for us.

There are consequences to our actions
and our inaction, and just because God loves us
does not mean we will be protected from the consequences of our choices.
What “the law and the prophets” do,
beginning in Exodus and continuing
right through to Matthew,
is NAME the conditions on our relationship with God
and the consequences of our actions and inaction.

It isn’t crime and punishment,
it isn’t tit-for-tat and small-minded,
it isn’t churlish and vindictive…
it is a matter-of-fact description
of the nature of things.

For example, we have known for centuries
that if we poison or over-use a particular ecosystem
then it will be destroyed.

We have known that when we destroy an ecosystem,
it can take centuries and centuries, if ever,
for the restoration of its balance to take place.

Yet here we are in 2020,
still resisting limitations
on our life-styles and consumption
even though we know – we KNOW –
that climate change is a fact.

That is a clear and simple example
of suffering the consequences of our actions
and inaction.
God will not miraculously save us
from our selfish gluttony.
God WILL continue to provide
prophets
and scripture
and communities
that offer us alternatives.

That is what God does – God keeps reaching out,
keeps hoping
keeps encouraging us to change
and return to live within the conditions
of our relationship with the planet
and one another

Even that old Adam and Eve myth of creation
has this element to it.
When God allows Adam and Eve to suffer
the consequences of their behavior, even then,
God continues to reach out to them
and offer help and support
in their new situation.

But our sad little Puritan, Capitalist, 21st century
incarnation of Christianity,
prefers to talk about God’s unconditional love
and the warm-fuzzies
of God’s healing and care.

Or, the most outrageous spiritual lie of them all,
the prosperity gospel that says God will bless us
with material success and good juju
if we do what the preacher says.

Okay, I said it.
It’s done now.

Truly, I do not know for sure
if enough people will come to a church like this one –
where Isaiah and Matthew
are allowed to speak for themselves.
It is an experiment to be sure.

But I do know
that being honest
and allowing the Bible,
both Old and New
to speak for itself…is liberating.

I do know,
that when Isaiah and Matthew are allowed
to speak for themselves,
something powerful can happen.

I don’t know
if there are enough people
who seek that kind of power?

But I do know,
that those that do
encounter something unexpected,
and that the encounter
can change lives.

I don’t know
if little communities like Trinity Place
coming to terms with the actual
conditionality of our lives
can make a difference
and turn the world around.

But I do know
that hoping we can
and having the courage and tenacity to try
makes the conditions we live within
seem more tolerable.

So, all of that brings us to baptismal ministry –
which, if you have forgotten or fallen asleep,
is our theme for Epiphany.

A “Covenant” is a relationship of promises –
it is unselfconsciously
a conditional relationship.
It is based upon promises:
“If we try, persevere, and act…
then God will…”

Please, then, let us hear the promises
of our Baptismal Covenant
and compare them
to the poem we heard from Isaiah,
and compare them
to the exclamations we heard in Matthew.
I think,
I am pretty doggone sure,
that you will hear them echoing one another
all the way through.

So, you see,
even though it is not what we want,
we don’t have an unconditional relationship with God.
If we are honest and wise,
we do not have an unconditional relationship
with anyone.
And that is a good thing.

Relationships contain promises
and they contain conditions,
and when those promises and conditions
are not met,
then there are consequences
whether we name them
or acknowledge them or not.

One of the promises embedded
in the community of Trinity Place
is that we are open, inclusive and challenging.
What that means
is that we do not offer sugar-frosted gospel here.
We at least try to name
and acknowledge
the conditions and promises
we have heard
in such voices as Exodus, Isaiah, and Matthew.

We will not always fulfill the promise of
openness, inclusion, and challenge
but I am hopeful that when we fail
we will recognize it,
acknowledge it,
and try harder.

Like I said, I do not know if there are really enough people
living in and around Geneva
who want to be part of a spiritual community like this,
but I do know
that I am grateful for the people that do.
And I do know
that whenever people seek this place out
and then become part of it,
they honor all of us.

That’s my take on spiritual community
and I’m sticking to it.

 

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Presentation of Jesus at the Temple: Encoded Language

February 2, 2020 by Cam Miller

TEXTS FOR SERMON:
Malachi 3:1-4
Luke 2:22-40
“Pondering These Things” by Gay Hadley

“Neighbors said it first.
Surely this child
belongs to someone else.
Mary, too, when she held him,
sang him to sleep,
watched his deep, brooding eyes,
wondered where he came from.

We ponder our children,
blessed or not, depending
on your point of view.
We are afraid for the ones
who talk early, speak
with a shivering wisdom.

We fear the world
will be afraid.
And we know we may lose
them, not understanding
why, except to think
they must belong
to someone else.”

SERMON

This sweet story of mom and dad
so pleased to present their new son at the temple,
has a shadow side
whispering in a language
only some listeners can recognize.

It is very phenomenon as American slaves
singing spirituals in the field
that spoke of their suffering and hope
in a language the task-masters could hear
but simply not understand.

Oppressed people everywhere
create metaphoric language
with a literal meaning heard by persecutors
and an actual meaning loud and clear to the tyrannized.

As 21st century readers,
we need to see the split-screen in which this story.
Luke is writing to his audience
fifteen or twenty years AFTER
the Romans destroyed the Temple in Jerusalem.

To non-Romans,
and even to Romans of a certain class,
the backdrop is a poignant reminder
of the imperial massacre
of Jews in Judah and Galilee.
It seems like a normal story
about a normal activity
but it would immediately trigger
grief and anger
and a molten cocktail of emotions.

Secondly, to go to the historic context of Luke’s story,
the hearers would also
travel much farther back in time – to the Exodus.
In the Exodus liberation story
set in the Egypt of Ramses II,
every Hebrew first-born son
was to be dedicated to God –
even though they belonged to Pharaoh.
That’s one of those public metaphors
that speak one thing to the oppressor
and another to the oppressed.

So, zooming forward
to the time of Tiberius Caesar and Herod Antipas,
Joseph and Mary bring their new-born
to the one-and-only house on earth
where God lives.
Once there, they do what the Egyptian Hebrews did,
dedicate their child to God –
not to Tiberius who was claimed as a god,
but to Yahweh who they know to be God.

Suddenly Luke has transported
Joseph & Mary back to Egypt
with a literary collapse of generations,
painting them into solidarity
with centuries of ancestors.

But wait, this story as told by Luke,
is being told at a time when all semblance of the Temple
and Israel, were gone – as in,
no more.

The two primary actors in this story,
other than the parents who presented their baby,
are two old people
who are dead by the time Luke writes his tale.

The first is Simeon, a man who can’t die
until he recognizes the seed of deliverance and restoration
in a prophesized newborn.
Cleverly, Luke echoes the past
with oblique reference to the children of Israel
who were delivered from their oppression under Egypt,
and by doing so, references the future
which somehow is connected to the baby –
and he does all that without naming any names.

We might ask, what in the world is Simeon is talking about
when he says that God will reveal something to the Gentiles?

Well, it’s the same thing that God revealed to Pharaoh –
“You ain’t in charge, dogface.”

And what then, does it mean for God to bring about
“the glory of the people Israel?”

It means restoration of the land, rebuilding of the temple,
and there, the defeat of Roman domination.
All said of that is said without saying so.

Then there is Anna, a prophet.
She has been fasting for eighty-four years,
a ritual act of grieving.
Suddenly, she grieves no more –
because, why?
Because Jerusalem is about to be redeemed.
Well, what is involved with the redemption of Jerusalem?
Just this: the Roman scum are destroyed,
kicked out, and demolished.
The Temple is rebuilt on Zion.

All of that is proclaimed without ever saying so.

Joseph and Mary were just doing
what was required by law –
presenting their child at the Temple.
What could be more innocent.

To the oppressor hearing the tale,
it is about a couple miscreant peasants
performing their pathetic religion.
But Luke doing something here,
other than telling a sweet tale
about the holy family performing their duty
under the Law of Moses?

“…We are afraid for the ones
who talk early, speak
with a shivering wisdom.

We fear the world
will be afraid.
And we know we may lose
them, not understanding
why, except to think
they must belong
to someone else.”

Gay Hadley’s poem
utters eloquently
the hope and fear
of every parent, aunt, uncle, and
grandparent
who every loved a newborn
addition to the family.
It isn’t the fear of the emperor
or the hope of national independence,
but the recognition
that one so small is up against
enormous hazards
and random events
beyond anyone’s control.
It is the fraught recognition
of the world we are all born into
and the one we live through –
until eventually, don’t.

That is the nexus
of where people like us –
Roman’s after all –
truly share the perspective
of those we oppress,
even if we do not intend to be oppressors.
WE and THEY are US
when it comes to our vulnerability
before the vastness of the cosmos,
and the limitless array of dangers
that surround us in every moment.

The Romans had temples and gods
to which they prayed and sacrificed
for the safety of their newborns,
just like Joseph and Mary.

Oppressed and oppressor are connected by our love,
by our vulnerability, by our hope,
and by our fears.

There is a criticism pious people make
about those
who reach out for God
only when they are in need.
But I totally get that.
Why would we even think about God
when we feel in control,
content and satiated,
and as if death and deprivation
were nowhere to be found?

When we feel like that, we are on top of the world
and we do not NEED God.
Sometimes we imagine we are
the masters of our own destiny,
and we can get taken up in the goodness of life
and not even think about how we got there –
or who we have to thank for an assist.
We’re just happy to be there.
This is the bind
that we post-moderns are in.
I am guessing that most of us here
are not in Malachi’s camp
that sees the world through the bi-focal
of purity and evil.
I could be wrong,
but I am guessing that most of us here
do not think that misfortune is punishment
for our sins
and good fortune
a recompense for our purity.

We know all too well
there are jerks, and ogres, and
grotesquely self-interested hedonists
who have all the power and money
and it will never be shared
with the great majority
who suffer, are disrespected, and wrongly arrested.
There are enormous fortunes out there
that the millions and billions of just plain good folks
will never see or benefit from.
Surely that is not an arrangement
instigated and authorized by God.

So purity and evil
are probably not the cause and effect
of happiness and good fortune
in the way that much of ancient religion
had imagined or hoped.
And, without that scheme,
we are left more vulnerable than ever –
naked before the universe
and praying
that that any huge comet careening through space
will miss the earth.

As 21st century moderns,
we know too much
and yet, so much less
than we need to know.

What are we to do?

I hope you didn’t think I had an answer to that question.
On the other hand, I have been working on it
since I was about eight or ten years old,
and here is where it’s led me.

The difference between spiritual and religious
in my mind,
is that being spiritual
accepts the truth of the situation we are in
and frames it in a way
that empowers us to live well anyway.

Religiosity on the other hand,
begins with a denial of our situation
and claims truths
that have no basis in our experience.

Let’s take baptism as an easy example,
since it is vaguely or thematically related
to what Mary and Joseph
were up to in Luke’s story.

Religiosity would see baptism
as protection from Hell,
a kind of ritual magic rooted in the idea of purity –
that our soul is stained
and this is how we get the stain removed.

A more spiritual understanding of baptism
is that we welcome the newborn
into a communal practice.

That practice is one in which
we share some common values
and commend some common ways of treating
one another, and even
those we do not know.
Rather than an act of purification,
baptism seen spiritually
is a recognition that we have the potential
to live badly – in ways that are both self-destructive
and hurtful to others.
At the same time, baptism offers a vision
for how to live well in community
and resist
our more destructive propensities.

In the “Episcopal Baptismal Covenant,”
it is an explicit understanding
that God doesn’t do anything FOR us
BUT we can do amazing things
with God’s help.

How God helps
is another one of those mysteries
we do not get to know the answer to,
and it is better to acknowledged it
than deny it or fantasized about it.
Proclaiming what God does
or doesn’t do, seems to me
to be foolhardy and arrogant.

So, in a few moments,
when we reaffirm our own baptismal covenant,
I invite us to think about it as a description (not a prescription) of our spiritual practice.

It is not prescriptive
because it can be practiced in an infinite
number of ways,
and depends mightily on our context
and our capacity.
It is DESCRIPTIVE
because spirituality is evocative,
intuitive,
and highly contextual
rather than fixed and precise.
Spiritual practice
is not like flying a plane or driving a car,
because it is not that precise.
In short, the baptismal covenant
is a way of framing the life we live
in this ocean of randomness,
fraught with hazards
and opportunities,
and framing it all
in a way that empowers us.

When we read the Baptismal Covenant,
there is no sense of fear and anxiety,
no denial of our baser proclivities,
and no wishful thinking of divine quid pro quo.

It is instead,
an empowerment
that invites us to build a community
that more nearly reflects
what we imagine
is God’s best dream for us –
the kingdom of God on earth
as it is in heaven.

So I hope we will see how baptism
frames and re-frames life in the world
as we actually experience it,
when we reaffirm that covenant in a moment.
Oh, and one more thing,
even though it doesn’t say so explicitly:
It is always…
just one step at a time.

The Episcopal Baptismal Covenant

“With God’s help, we will continue in the apostle’s teaching and fellowship,
in the breaking of the bread, and in the prayers.

With God’s help, we will persevere in resisting evil, and,
when we fall into sin, repent, and return to the Lord.

With God’s help, we will proclaim by word and example
the Good News of Christ.

With God’s help, we will seek and serve Christ in all persons,
loving our neighbor as ourselves.

With God’s help, we will strive for justice and peace among all people,
and respect the dignity of every human being.”

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Trinity Place

 Trinity Place, An Open Space for Growth, Wellness, Healing, & the Arts

“Open Space” means open and inclusive, welcoming the Geneva and FLX community to use our space, and to partner with us in building an inclusive community for spiritual inquiry and wellness. 

“Growth, Wellness, Healing, & the Arts” means we are pointed toward a particular dimension of life, specifically that which strengthens the relationship of body, mind, and spirit. 

Trinity is a Christian community of worship and spiritual practice welcoming all, and an Episcopal Church in particular. However, we welcome all spiritual traditions and those who have no particular spiritual background but are engaged in a mission consistent with ours. We are looking for partners in mission not members (although we love to welcome new members too).

 

 

 

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Staff and Vestry

The Rev. R. Cameron Miller is our rector, which means the resident clergy leader. In addition … Read more

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Links

  • subversivepreacher
  • Episcopal Diocese of Rochester
  • The Episcopal Church

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