The practice of genuflection, or bowing on one knee, typically the right, is not as old as some might suppose. Traditionally, it dates back to the 16th Century, at about the time of the Protestant Reformation. It signifies humility and self-abasement in the presence of the Real Host. Faithful Catholics and members of the Anglican Communion genuflect when in the presence of Christ's presence in the Eucharist, although genuflection may have ties to the secular practice of physical obeisance before earthly lords and kings.
Yet we might place genuflection in a much longer tradition of physically arranging the body during prayer. This practice dates back certainly to the very early church and even to the Old Testament, when people occasionally kneel in prayer. This would contrast with the standard Jewish position of standing to pray, and was used to express a particularly fervent or heartfelt petition. By the fourth or fifth century, kneeling had become the posture of private Christian prayer, while standing remained the norm for public and corporate petitions before God.
Modern genuflection might then represent the presence of individual piety in the midst of common faith. We hold nothing more personal than our bodies, and moving them in response to the presence of the broken body of Christ, and in reply to the words that affirm his physical sacrifice, symbolically connects us to Christ's emptying of self in this world and upon the cross- whether we bow on one knee, or two, or in the Eastern fashion prostrate ourselves entirely.
Monday, June 30, 2008
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Was Buddha Fat or Skinny?
Simply put, the answer is yes-just not in the way you think. The fat Buddhas you see in restaurants are importations from Chinese folklore, sometimes by way of the Japanese. They depict the Chinese monk Pu-Tai, or Hotei in Japan. He was a monk who wandered the Chinese countryside, known for his generosity and vision; he may or may not be a conflation with the Chinese god of prosperity, luck, and happiness.
The size of the fat Buddha's belly represents his great spirit of generosity and perhaps compassion; his belly holds "many souls." Due to its connection with physical sustenance and pregnancy, in many religions, the belly is an important center of spiritual power. The belly is often seen as the truest center of a person, and rubbing the Buddha's belly can often bring luck- even fertility.
However, this Buddha has no physical connection with Gautama or Siddhartha Buddha, the historical Buddha and founder of Buddhism. They were different people. The common misconception that the Buddha became fat and prosperous after renouncing the ascetic paths of fasting and self-denial seems unlikely. The historical Buddha insisted on a middle path in this regard, renouncing both the Hindu asceticism and the hedonism and self-indulgence of the nobility. He had lived both of these ways, and rejected them after reaching enlightenment, preaching instead practical moderation and restraint in all things.
Beyond this level of description, however, the issues of identity in Buddhist thinking become more complex. First, there is the Buddhist teaching that all are one- novices in Buddhist monasteries are often pointed to statues of the Buddha (fat and skinny and muscled and varied in many other ways) and told "that's you." So in this way, regardless of their physical and historical distinctions, the fat and skinny manifestations of Buddha do represent the same spirit, if not the same person: one of the many distinctions not as clear in Eastern thought as in the West.
Furthermore, some sects of Buddhism believe in past, present and future Buddhas- with the future Buddha being the more rotund. Not only are these one in the sense that all people are one, but also in the sense that Buddha can have more than one manifestation; they are the same Buddha, the same Enlightened One. Given that anyone can achieve enlightenment, the potential number of Buddhas is infinite.
Or one, depending on your perspective.
The size of the fat Buddha's belly represents his great spirit of generosity and perhaps compassion; his belly holds "many souls." Due to its connection with physical sustenance and pregnancy, in many religions, the belly is an important center of spiritual power. The belly is often seen as the truest center of a person, and rubbing the Buddha's belly can often bring luck- even fertility.
However, this Buddha has no physical connection with Gautama or Siddhartha Buddha, the historical Buddha and founder of Buddhism. They were different people. The common misconception that the Buddha became fat and prosperous after renouncing the ascetic paths of fasting and self-denial seems unlikely. The historical Buddha insisted on a middle path in this regard, renouncing both the Hindu asceticism and the hedonism and self-indulgence of the nobility. He had lived both of these ways, and rejected them after reaching enlightenment, preaching instead practical moderation and restraint in all things.
Beyond this level of description, however, the issues of identity in Buddhist thinking become more complex. First, there is the Buddhist teaching that all are one- novices in Buddhist monasteries are often pointed to statues of the Buddha (fat and skinny and muscled and varied in many other ways) and told "that's you." So in this way, regardless of their physical and historical distinctions, the fat and skinny manifestations of Buddha do represent the same spirit, if not the same person: one of the many distinctions not as clear in Eastern thought as in the West.
Furthermore, some sects of Buddhism believe in past, present and future Buddhas- with the future Buddha being the more rotund. Not only are these one in the sense that all people are one, but also in the sense that Buddha can have more than one manifestation; they are the same Buddha, the same Enlightened One. Given that anyone can achieve enlightenment, the potential number of Buddhas is infinite.
Or one, depending on your perspective.
Friday, June 27, 2008
Old School: John Jacob Faude
"And in the dream I knew that he was goin' on ahead. And he was fixin' to make a fire somewhere out there in all that dark and all that cold, and I knew that whenever I got there, he would be there..."
The Reverend John Jacob Faude became Gethsemane's third rector on January 1, 1890, the very day that the former rector attained the Bishopric. He oversaw further remodeling of the church. This included seats added in the south aisle, the installation of the "Gethsemane" chancel window, and a memorial pulpit. Faude also oversaw measures to protect the building proper, including wire screens to protect the stained glass, a storm porch over the Fourth Avenue entrance, and an iron fence to guard the front grass.
Not that Faude's ministry was purely material. The church also gained a permanent kindergarten school in this period, the Women's Guild and Women's Auxiliary, and a men's parish club. Other organizations formed under Faude's hand included a chapter of the Brotherhood of St. Andrew (an organization incorporated by Congress), the Daughters of the King and the younger Daughters of St. Agnes, and a Girl's Guide that made clothing for the hospital and orphanage Gethsemane had previously begun. Further, Faude established the St. Thomas mission for black people by 1894 and began the long-running "Parish Visitor," the
newsletter that kept the parish informed.
In 1895, Gethsemane hosted the first General Convention of the church held west of the Mississippi, to overwhelming success- a moment that marked Gethsemane's tradition of hospitality. This was further carried out by renting the church for various functions, the funds from which helped pay for the long-delayed parish house- and the rector's back salary.
On April 2, 1901, the Reverend died of typhoid fever and appendicitis. The Alter Guild dedicated the new altar to him, in remembrance of his leadership and ecclesiastical, canonical, and parliamentary knowledge. He guided the church through difficult economic times, and his determination to organize and order the parish doubtless led to his most noted contributions.
The Reverend John Jacob Faude became Gethsemane's third rector on January 1, 1890, the very day that the former rector attained the Bishopric. He oversaw further remodeling of the church. This included seats added in the south aisle, the installation of the "Gethsemane" chancel window, and a memorial pulpit. Faude also oversaw measures to protect the building proper, including wire screens to protect the stained glass, a storm porch over the Fourth Avenue entrance, and an iron fence to guard the front grass.
Not that Faude's ministry was purely material. The church also gained a permanent kindergarten school in this period, the Women's Guild and Women's Auxiliary, and a men's parish club. Other organizations formed under Faude's hand included a chapter of the Brotherhood of St. Andrew (an organization incorporated by Congress), the Daughters of the King and the younger Daughters of St. Agnes, and a Girl's Guide that made clothing for the hospital and orphanage Gethsemane had previously begun. Further, Faude established the St. Thomas mission for black people by 1894 and began the long-running "Parish Visitor," the
newsletter that kept the parish informed.
In 1895, Gethsemane hosted the first General Convention of the church held west of the Mississippi, to overwhelming success- a moment that marked Gethsemane's tradition of hospitality. This was further carried out by renting the church for various functions, the funds from which helped pay for the long-delayed parish house- and the rector's back salary.
On April 2, 1901, the Reverend died of typhoid fever and appendicitis. The Alter Guild dedicated the new altar to him, in remembrance of his leadership and ecclesiastical, canonical, and parliamentary knowledge. He guided the church through difficult economic times, and his determination to organize and order the parish doubtless led to his most noted contributions.
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Cliff Notes: Circumscription of the Topic
With the second lecture, James narrows the scope of his inquiry still farther in The Varities of Religious Experience. Now having honed in on the type of individuals he will analyze, he defines the actual experiences one might call religious. For him, religion famously means "the acts, and experiences of individual men in their solitude, so far as they apprehend themselves to stand in relation to whatever they consider divine."
So, again, he will set aside the most common experiences of religion and the most common defintions of religious experience as ritual or collective rite. He notes that the personal experiences of religious founders must predate the traditions they establish; the only exception to this would be the fetishism and magic worship of our remote (pagan) ancestors, about whom so little is known as to be almost entirely useless.
So these will be purely individual encounters between man and divine- but what of the divine? James denotes this as any object that is godlike, whether a deity or not. This allows for a broader sweep of spectrum than most definitions: it would include Transcendentalism as well as Christianity, Deism as well as Judaism.
Yet it would not include the ethical, however robust the moral code or just feeling. James notes the difference between the stoic acceptance of truth that seems to be the most that the irreligious can posit. He contrasts this with the glad and joyous acceptance of one's state present in most Christian religious genius.
As James himself says, "Here religion comes to our rescue. There is a state of mind, known to religious men, but to no others, in which the will to assert ourselves has been displaced by a willingness to close our mouths and be as nothing in the floods and waterspouts of God."
So, again, he will set aside the most common experiences of religion and the most common defintions of religious experience as ritual or collective rite. He notes that the personal experiences of religious founders must predate the traditions they establish; the only exception to this would be the fetishism and magic worship of our remote (pagan) ancestors, about whom so little is known as to be almost entirely useless.
So these will be purely individual encounters between man and divine- but what of the divine? James denotes this as any object that is godlike, whether a deity or not. This allows for a broader sweep of spectrum than most definitions: it would include Transcendentalism as well as Christianity, Deism as well as Judaism.
Yet it would not include the ethical, however robust the moral code or just feeling. James notes the difference between the stoic acceptance of truth that seems to be the most that the irreligious can posit. He contrasts this with the glad and joyous acceptance of one's state present in most Christian religious genius.
As James himself says, "Here religion comes to our rescue. There is a state of mind, known to religious men, but to no others, in which the will to assert ourselves has been displaced by a willingness to close our mouths and be as nothing in the floods and waterspouts of God."
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Cliff Notes: The Varieties of Religious Experience
The American psychologist and philosopher William James penned the classic The Varieties of Religious Experience in 1902, establishing a uniquely scientific and charitable method of thinking about religion.
Originally delivered as a series of the renowned Gifford lectures, the chapters of the Varieties examine the lives of more than two hundred believers who had known profound religious transformation. Few other works have so quickly become canon for both psychology and philosophy, and the text was crucial to James’s developing Pragmatism, America’s sole contribution to formal philosophy. It is still in print today, more than 100 years later.
Focusing on individual experience and respectfully analyzing common themes and elements in believer’s own powerful words, James changed the way generations of scholars and Christians alike have thought about the elements of faith.
Join me over the next few weeks at Curious Monk, as I walk through this modern classic. Tonight I address James’s own introductory remarks.
James begins the Varieties by insisting that his own approach to examining religion has been and will be reliant on the literature of individual believers. This is opposed to what would have been more common approaches to examining faith via physiology, as connected to upsets of digestion or organs (persons in extremis).
He also asserts that he will be disregarding the faith of most believers, who practiced a hereditary and cultural form of faith, a second-hand religion that would reveal little about transformative psychological experience. Rather, he will focus on “religious geniuses,” those relatively few believers who have had profound experiences of faith, and who could relate those phenomena articulately.
That these individuals have also often been linked to psychological neuroses does not bother James at all, as he dismisses “medical materialism,” the belief that the factuality of physical causes bears direct relation to the value of its result. That is, hallucinations produced by hunger, in James’ estimation, would be no less valid, and would relate no less truth, than those explained in other ways. Biology does not dismiss religion, in James’s view.
Rather, he pursues precisely those individuals otherwise aberrant, first, because psychological aberration can illuminate psychological normalcy, and second, because those people who have been profoundly and strangely transformed by religion have been precisely the ones to contribute the most to it.
This is true most famously in the case of George Fox, the founder of the Quakers; in the 1600’s Fox famously decried the bloody town of Lichfield without knowing until much later that 1000 Christians had been martyred there under the Roman Empire. Fox believed he had been led by Spirit to make the prophecy.
This is precisely the sort of man, and the sort of experience, that The Varieties has in mind.
Originally delivered as a series of the renowned Gifford lectures, the chapters of the Varieties examine the lives of more than two hundred believers who had known profound religious transformation. Few other works have so quickly become canon for both psychology and philosophy, and the text was crucial to James’s developing Pragmatism, America’s sole contribution to formal philosophy. It is still in print today, more than 100 years later.
Focusing on individual experience and respectfully analyzing common themes and elements in believer’s own powerful words, James changed the way generations of scholars and Christians alike have thought about the elements of faith.
Join me over the next few weeks at Curious Monk, as I walk through this modern classic. Tonight I address James’s own introductory remarks.
James begins the Varieties by insisting that his own approach to examining religion has been and will be reliant on the literature of individual believers. This is opposed to what would have been more common approaches to examining faith via physiology, as connected to upsets of digestion or organs (persons in extremis).
He also asserts that he will be disregarding the faith of most believers, who practiced a hereditary and cultural form of faith, a second-hand religion that would reveal little about transformative psychological experience. Rather, he will focus on “religious geniuses,” those relatively few believers who have had profound experiences of faith, and who could relate those phenomena articulately.
That these individuals have also often been linked to psychological neuroses does not bother James at all, as he dismisses “medical materialism,” the belief that the factuality of physical causes bears direct relation to the value of its result. That is, hallucinations produced by hunger, in James’ estimation, would be no less valid, and would relate no less truth, than those explained in other ways. Biology does not dismiss religion, in James’s view.
Rather, he pursues precisely those individuals otherwise aberrant, first, because psychological aberration can illuminate psychological normalcy, and second, because those people who have been profoundly and strangely transformed by religion have been precisely the ones to contribute the most to it.
This is true most famously in the case of George Fox, the founder of the Quakers; in the 1600’s Fox famously decried the bloody town of Lichfield without knowing until much later that 1000 Christians had been martyred there under the Roman Empire. Fox believed he had been led by Spirit to make the prophecy.
This is precisely the sort of man, and the sort of experience, that The Varieties has in mind.
Saturday, June 21, 2008
Was Jesus fathered by a Roman soldier? Through rape?
Some eternally seem to wish to think so. The notion seems to come up every Christmas. And the point has its merits. Christ incarnates the Father's love for humanity, and in so doing Christ reverses the expectations of the world. The high will be brought low, and the poor will become rich. That the salvation of the world could come through a rape victim and her child could have a certain appeal. It would certainly reverse the stigmas commonly afflicted upon the victims of heinous acts.
However, there is no basis for a claim. The thinking that leads to this almost always presupposes that a virgin birth could not have happened. If this is so, then we can look for other ways in which the texts relating to the nativity depart from history. When we see that they do, we can assert that the story of a miraculous birth is likewise a retrospective gloss over a more common and brutal fact. It is the kind of thinking that humans do nearly every day. We fudge the details, we repaint the facts in a certain light- usually in ways that are more or less self-serving. Mary's innocence of willful participation in a premarital sexual affair thus become Mary's willing service of God and, for Catholics, innocence of sin altogether.
The nativity could thus be a mytholization of balder historical facts. The same suspicion guides the search for scientific explanations for the biblical Exodus and the plagues that came before it.
Of course, by the standards of traditional Christianity, neither explanation excludes the other. Scripture and tradition are both clear that God uses history itself as allegory- according to a scriptural worldview, the bald, scientific or historical facts, no matter what they were, would themselves be less significant than the spiritual realities they signified. The virgin birth as such (or not), can certainly be of no more import than the Father's recognition of his Son at baptism, or Christ's continuous submission to his Father's will.
Furthermore, the very concern driving this, the concern over what can and cannot be a miracle, would be quite different in the context in which the scriptures were written. We moderns often understand miracles as a breaking through, or a transformation of, the natural laws that govern the universe. Yet the ancients lacked our awareness of natural principles. They do not pause once while telling of Egyptian magicians going toe-to-toe with the Supreme Being for several rounds of serious plague- making.
Still, the ancient peoples insisted on miracles: as signs pointing to the power and fidelity of God. This is the point of unnatural narratives: the realities of the Judeo-Christian God subvert and overwhelm the realities of opposing kingdoms. Within the Christian faith, there can be no doubt that the birth of Christ was certainly this. As was the rest of his life.
And for non-believers? In the absence of historical evidence outside of scripture, one fails to imagine what non-believers would do with the Virgin Birth at all, or why they could care to. Having dismissed our only functional sources, and not accepting the Christian witness to Christ's life as a whole, there seems a lack of sensible things to say on his humble beginning.
Of course, that sort of thinking fails to sell books. And it's nice to sell books.
However, there is no basis for a claim. The thinking that leads to this almost always presupposes that a virgin birth could not have happened. If this is so, then we can look for other ways in which the texts relating to the nativity depart from history. When we see that they do, we can assert that the story of a miraculous birth is likewise a retrospective gloss over a more common and brutal fact. It is the kind of thinking that humans do nearly every day. We fudge the details, we repaint the facts in a certain light- usually in ways that are more or less self-serving. Mary's innocence of willful participation in a premarital sexual affair thus become Mary's willing service of God and, for Catholics, innocence of sin altogether.
The nativity could thus be a mytholization of balder historical facts. The same suspicion guides the search for scientific explanations for the biblical Exodus and the plagues that came before it.
Of course, by the standards of traditional Christianity, neither explanation excludes the other. Scripture and tradition are both clear that God uses history itself as allegory- according to a scriptural worldview, the bald, scientific or historical facts, no matter what they were, would themselves be less significant than the spiritual realities they signified. The virgin birth as such (or not), can certainly be of no more import than the Father's recognition of his Son at baptism, or Christ's continuous submission to his Father's will.
Furthermore, the very concern driving this, the concern over what can and cannot be a miracle, would be quite different in the context in which the scriptures were written. We moderns often understand miracles as a breaking through, or a transformation of, the natural laws that govern the universe. Yet the ancients lacked our awareness of natural principles. They do not pause once while telling of Egyptian magicians going toe-to-toe with the Supreme Being for several rounds of serious plague- making.
Still, the ancient peoples insisted on miracles: as signs pointing to the power and fidelity of God. This is the point of unnatural narratives: the realities of the Judeo-Christian God subvert and overwhelm the realities of opposing kingdoms. Within the Christian faith, there can be no doubt that the birth of Christ was certainly this. As was the rest of his life.
And for non-believers? In the absence of historical evidence outside of scripture, one fails to imagine what non-believers would do with the Virgin Birth at all, or why they could care to. Having dismissed our only functional sources, and not accepting the Christian witness to Christ's life as a whole, there seems a lack of sensible things to say on his humble beginning.
Of course, that sort of thinking fails to sell books. And it's nice to sell books.
Friday, June 20, 2008
Editorial: The Wikicreedia Project
Due to the flurry of questions Curious Monk has received about last week's proposal, it seems appropriate to publicly answer a few of the more commonly asked questions. This should alleviate any concerns about the aims and methods of the project. Curious Monk appreciates your interest.
Q: What is Wikicreedia?
A: The Wikicreedia Project is an idea whose time has come. Wikicreedia is a concise, on-line formulation of the common beliefs of 21st century Christians. Clergy and laity alike will collaborate to produce this document via the same interactive technology that allows Wikicreedia- its more famous cousin- to grow with its audience. Wikicreedia is entirely user-generated, meaning that it depends on no one authority for its content: only you. Over a period of four years- the same period of the original Nicean council, and with equally thorough and informed debate- willing Christians of every stripe will articulate the beliefs they hold against the deceptions and distortions of our time. At the close of four years, discussions will culminate with the rolling out of a creed written for our age- and hopefully many ages to come.
Q: What's wrong with the creeds that we already have?
A: There are no errors in our current creeds. However, nearly 2000 years of history have substantially changed the world and its people: believers and non-believers alike. It makes sense that the intellectual vessels of Christian faith- the dogmas and doctrines that we agree to- will have changed as well. To endlessly repreat the precise words, no matter how wise, that those before us spoke is to fail to grow as a body and to be potentially unprepared for the return of Christ. Our growing concerns for human rights and for the world we inhabit are but a few of the situations the church fathers could not have anticipated. It is our task to address them, for ourselves and future generations.
Q: So you want to replace the creeds?
A: Not at all. The body of believers, having formulated the new creed, will makes whatever use of it we choose, including possibly none whatsoever. As an article of faith, the new creed would be intended to stand alongside those that have come before.
Q: But isn't this heretical?
A: The original creeds were written to unite the original communities of Christians across fervent divisions of belief. It seems difficult to imagine how a testament to this first venture would produce very different results. But no matter the creedal content produced, the full body of believers cannot witness against itself. By affirming what we actually have in common, the new creed would in fact illuminate as such the many distortions currently mascarading as traditional belief.
Q: So where is this?
A: Wikicreedia as such does not exist yet. Curious Monk will be certain that you know when and where it does. But the larger project- the discussion about the lies of our age, the yearning to mutually discover and share the truth of the times- that is already in the hearts and minds of many believers.
Q: So how would this all happen?
A: Much has yet to be decided, and the Wikicreedia Project needs all the help and life you can give it. But all change starts locally, and religous transformation is no exception. A committee of commited Episcopal clergy and laity might do well to get Wikicreedia off its feet by formulating the key issues to be address. Then Wikicreedia might roll out across local Protestant denominations in its early formulation, then tap into regional and national conversations as its audience- and authorship- grows until finally joining with international Catholic and Orthodox concerns. Obviously, the task is large. But we can start quite small.
Q: Cmon, could all this actually happen?
A: As said before, the time for Wikicreedia has come. Christianity is undergoing stress and strain probably not felt since the Reformation. The Christian faith will change whether or not we want it to. But if we want it to change in this particular way, toward unity and common feeling and common ground and common hope, there's quite possibly nothing that could stop it.
Thank you.
Q: What is Wikicreedia?
A: The Wikicreedia Project is an idea whose time has come. Wikicreedia is a concise, on-line formulation of the common beliefs of 21st century Christians. Clergy and laity alike will collaborate to produce this document via the same interactive technology that allows Wikicreedia- its more famous cousin- to grow with its audience. Wikicreedia is entirely user-generated, meaning that it depends on no one authority for its content: only you. Over a period of four years- the same period of the original Nicean council, and with equally thorough and informed debate- willing Christians of every stripe will articulate the beliefs they hold against the deceptions and distortions of our time. At the close of four years, discussions will culminate with the rolling out of a creed written for our age- and hopefully many ages to come.
Q: What's wrong with the creeds that we already have?
A: There are no errors in our current creeds. However, nearly 2000 years of history have substantially changed the world and its people: believers and non-believers alike. It makes sense that the intellectual vessels of Christian faith- the dogmas and doctrines that we agree to- will have changed as well. To endlessly repreat the precise words, no matter how wise, that those before us spoke is to fail to grow as a body and to be potentially unprepared for the return of Christ. Our growing concerns for human rights and for the world we inhabit are but a few of the situations the church fathers could not have anticipated. It is our task to address them, for ourselves and future generations.
Q: So you want to replace the creeds?
A: Not at all. The body of believers, having formulated the new creed, will makes whatever use of it we choose, including possibly none whatsoever. As an article of faith, the new creed would be intended to stand alongside those that have come before.
Q: But isn't this heretical?
A: The original creeds were written to unite the original communities of Christians across fervent divisions of belief. It seems difficult to imagine how a testament to this first venture would produce very different results. But no matter the creedal content produced, the full body of believers cannot witness against itself. By affirming what we actually have in common, the new creed would in fact illuminate as such the many distortions currently mascarading as traditional belief.
Q: So where is this?
A: Wikicreedia as such does not exist yet. Curious Monk will be certain that you know when and where it does. But the larger project- the discussion about the lies of our age, the yearning to mutually discover and share the truth of the times- that is already in the hearts and minds of many believers.
Q: So how would this all happen?
A: Much has yet to be decided, and the Wikicreedia Project needs all the help and life you can give it. But all change starts locally, and religous transformation is no exception. A committee of commited Episcopal clergy and laity might do well to get Wikicreedia off its feet by formulating the key issues to be address. Then Wikicreedia might roll out across local Protestant denominations in its early formulation, then tap into regional and national conversations as its audience- and authorship- grows until finally joining with international Catholic and Orthodox concerns. Obviously, the task is large. But we can start quite small.
Q: Cmon, could all this actually happen?
A: As said before, the time for Wikicreedia has come. Christianity is undergoing stress and strain probably not felt since the Reformation. The Christian faith will change whether or not we want it to. But if we want it to change in this particular way, toward unity and common feeling and common ground and common hope, there's quite possibly nothing that could stop it.
Thank you.
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