Original Meaning

I HAVE BEEN suggesting throughout the commentary that the best lens through which to view the letters of John is the spiritual and theological crisis gripping his church in Ephesus and fracturing its unity. The Johannine schism was an internal struggle, fueled perhaps by arguments surrounding the interpretation of the Fourth Gospel and aggravated no doubt by pneumatic/charismatic teachers claiming new authority in the Spirit and new revelations about Christ. In a word, the false teachers were Docetic, denying the full incarnation of Christ and particularly the need or reality of his salvific death (1 John 2:22; 4:1–3; 5:5–8; 2 John 7–8). They also promoted an inspired enlightenment, a new vision, a loftier spirituality that was elitist (1 John 2:9) and perfectionist (1:8).

John sees this as nothing short of an unabashed offense to God himself (1 John 5:10), a challenge to the truth (“truth” occurs twenty times in the letters), and a teaching that jeopardized the very life of the church. Indeed, divisions had already set in. And as we read 1 John, a community of secessionists had already parted company with John’s church (1 John 2:19).

The Setting of 2 and 3 John

THE ONGOING HISTORY of the Johannine church is visible in 2 and 3 John. Various theories have been offered for the chronological rearrangement of these three letters. For instance, some have wondered if 2 John is John’s original letter and 1 John is his expansion of his ideas—a fulfillment of his wish to say many more things (2 John 12). But such a theory fails to explain how 2 John makes much sense if the recipient has not already read the dense arguments of 1 John. I believe that 2 John is an exhortation—a reminder—of things said before and therefore should follow 1 John chronologically. Moreover, 1 John should be read alongside 2 and 3 John, and the shorter letters should be interpreted in light of 1 John.

The Johannine letters show us a community that took its faith seriously. Some have even wondered if it fostered a sectarian outlook in which inner love and cohesion were as absolute as the boundary the community had erected between itself and the world. Christians were taught to reject the world utterly (1 John 2:15–17; 4:4–5), to practice a love within the community that had no natural counterpart (1 John 4:19–21; 2 John 5; 3 John 5–6), and to view themselves as elect, chosen of God (1 John 5:19–20; 2 John 7–9).

Did such a community with its high passion for excellence finally collapse under its own internal pressures? The intensity of its vision armed its critics with an intolerance that finally tore the fabric of the church. When we read 1 John, this group has departed (1 John 2:18–19); yet John still views them from the doorway of the church they left: “former members” might be their title. They are men and women with connections to the church and with influence on the Christians who stayed behind (see 1 John 2:27 and the many denials in 1 John). By the time we read 2 John the rupture seems complete (2 John 7). They are no longer just exiles from the church; they are now “in the world” and allied with the antichrist. And John warns that contact with them is forbidden (2 John 10–11). In 3 John a deeper crisis has developed, in which one circle in the Johannine community (a house church?) seems on the verge of defecting entirely, thanks to the influence of Diotrephes (3 John 9). Is this the same schism of 1 John and 2 John? John’s own emissaries cannot even make inroads into this fellowship (3 John 10).

These letters are testimonies to pastoral crises and pastoral heroism. They bear eloquent testimony to the vulnerability of the church when it lives on the frontiers of the world and is subject to the world’s influences. And they warn us of the one “who runs ahead and does not continue in the teaching of Christ” (2 John 9)—particularly when such teachers are from within their own ranks. In John’s case, the threat must have seemed overwhelming as members left and a few circles of believers split off.

Many have speculated about the fate of the community and tried to reconstruct what happened after 3 John was written. Good evidence suggests that much later the secessionists became fully Gnostic and carried the Fourth Gospel with them into the ranks of heretics.1 However, those believers who held firm, who did not deny a fully incarnational Christology, soon found support in “The Great Church,” those congregations that were nurtured by the writings of Paul and the other Gospels. The gift they brought to these orthodox communities was their apostle-pastor’s account of Jesus, namely, the Fourth Gospel. With it came John’s three letters—ready refutations of any misuses of that Gospel by later Gnostics.2

Fidelity to the Truth: Commitment to Love (1–6)

SECOND JOHN IS A message “from the front lines,” much like a scrap of war correspondence discovered long after the battle has passed. The tension implied in 1 John takes on a desperate tone. Therefore, John writes with two purposes in mind: to buttress his followers’ commitment to the truth and to warn them about the severity of their opponents and the need to protect themselves.

Because this is a personal letter, it follows conventional first-century epistolary form—unlike 1 John, which is not actually a personal letter but a public theological document. The author identifies himself (“the elder,” v. 1), names his addressees (“the chosen lady and her children,” v. 2), and gives a salutation (“grace, mercy and peace,” v. 3); at the end of his message he appends a closing greeting (vv. 12–13). This letter is one of the smallest in the New Testament, shorter even than Jude and Philemon; but like them it is intense and direct.

Rather than give his name (cf. Paul, 1 Cor. 1:1; 2 Cor. 1:1; Gal. 1:1), the author simply calls himself “the elder” (Gk. presbyteros). On the one hand, he seems to know the church well—and is known by them. However, it is his position that is now important and the authority that comes with it. “Elder” was used among Jews to indicate religious leaders (Acts 4:5); this practice was adopted by the early Christians (Acts 11:30, 15:6, 22; 1 Tim. 5:17; 1 Peter 5:1). Therefore, the “elder” (in my view, John) was an overseer of some sort, someone with pastoral oversight outside the congregation (see further pp. 17–46).

An ancient tradition has thought “chosen lady” refers to a person. Both words are personal names for women in Greek (Electa, Kyria). But this usage here is unlikely. Not only does the tone of the letter imply a wider audience, but the letter itself lapses into the plural at many points (vv. 5, 6, 8, 10, 12). The New Testament thinks of the church with feminine metaphors (e.g., “the bride of Christ,” Eph. 5:22–32) and even calls Christians “the chosen [or elect]” (Rom. 8:33; 16:13; Col. 3:12; 1 Peter 1:1). Thus, we should view 2 John as a personal note written by John and sent to a particular congregation (affectionately described as “her children”).3

Perhaps we should view the Johannine community as a series of small house churches distributed over a distance. These may have been isolated groups of people, few in number, who met in a village home for study and prayer. Or, if a larger urban community is imagined—for example, in Ephesus—these communities may have been houses in the city, each nurturing about twenty-five believers and knit together with informal connections with John as local elder/leader. This letter is addressed to one of these fledgling households of faith, now struggling for life.

John’s deep love for his church is expressed in his first sentence, “whom I love in the truth.” This phrase could be adverbial (“whom I love truly”), but no doubt John intends more. For him, the truth is not mere sincerity, but a reality belonging to God (1 John 2:4). People who know the truth love each other (v. 2) because they have this truth abiding within them (cf. 1 John 2:21). It is important to remember Johannine vocabulary here. Truth was not only incarnate in Jesus Christ (John 1:17; 14:6), but it also describes the Holy Spirit (“the Spirit of truth,” 14:15–17). Therefore, the community of love is a community “in truth,” namely, a community that has embraced Jesus Christ (1 John 5:20) and experienced the indwelling power of the Holy Spirit (3:24). Thus, the threefold blessing of verse 3 is announced triumphantly as a promise, not a wish: “grace, mercy and peace will be with us.” If the truth is with us forever (v. 2) and Jesus is the truth, the gifts of Jesus (“grace, mercy and peace”) are likewise certainties.4

John’s first message actually begins in verse 4, where he celebrates the continuing faithfulness and obedience of these Christians to the truth.5 All ecclesiastical matters are eclipsed by two critical affirmations of the faith, which he recites here: Christians must embrace and obey the truth, and at the same time love those who are brothers and sisters in Christ. “Truth” and “love” are the twin themes that echo throughout 1 John and here appear in summary form. They are the key elements that distinguish Christians from the world, and in this case, the faithful Johannine church from those who have left. The secessionists’ unyielding hatred (1 John 2:9), their disobedience before God’s word (1 John 2:4), indeed, their departure from the truth (4:6), all show how far they have moved from God.

But this is a bittersweet report. Couriers may have come to John reporting how faithful this remaining house church was.6 On the other hand, verse 4 may imply something different. John’s rejoicing that “some of” the believers here remained faithful may suggest that others have not. We can only speculate about the relation of the two groups. Have the secessionists won the upper hand? Are John’s faithful barely holding on? The answer to these questions may explain the cautious exhortation that follows (vv. 7–11). It may also explain the exhortation to love in verses 5–6. The authority behind John’s exhortation is not new. This love command is old—it comes from Jesus himself (John 13:34; 15:12, 17; 1 John 3:11; 2 John 5–6). John’s call is for these believers to consolidate their besieged community and confirm the essence of their beliefs—in other words, to fortify themselves against those who are out to destroy them.

Specific Warnings (7–11)

WITH STUNNING SPECIFICITY, John moves in verse 7 from the truth and love that inspire celebration to the treachery and deception that are lurking just outside the church’s doors (vv. 7–11). These defections are numerous (“many deceivers … have gone out”), and John no doubt has in mind those who have split off from the church in the recent past.7 “Deceivers” (Gk. planoi) can also be translated “liars”; Jesus uses the word in Matthew 24:4, 11, and 24 to warn against false prophets and messiahs, who will lead God’s people astray. Clearly these people have not only left the church and taken up residence in the world, but they have “gone out” into the world in order to spread their teachings. Their description in verse 7b is given fuller treatment in 1 John 2:17–27. Those who departed have become allies with evil. These false prophets have denied the complete incarnation of Christ (see 1 John 4:2) and should now be seen as agents of the antichrist. First John 4:1–3 describes their work in full:

… because many false prophets have gone out into the world. This is how you can recognize the Spirit of God: Every spirit that acknowledges [NRSV confesses] that Jesus Christ has come in the flesh is from God, but every spirit that does not acknowledge [NRSV confess] Jesus is not from God. This is the spirit of the antichrist, which you have heard is coming and even now is already in the world.

The confession listed in 1 John 4:1–6 finds a new twist in the present verses. Rather than use a perfect tense (as in 1 John 4:2), John now says that orthodox confession affirms “Jesus Christ as coming in the flesh” (v. 7). Why the present tense? This is likely not a reference to the Second Coming; rather, it is John’s way of saying that Jesus Christ came and still exists in the flesh. In other words, through his incarnation Jesus swept up our humanity and carried it with him eternally. This contradicts any Gnostic teachers who were saying that “the Christ” descended on Jesus at his baptism and departed just before his crucifixion, thus permanently separating the divine Christ from the earthly Jesus. John demands a “confession” that embraces the ongoing reality of the Incarnation even in the present.

To oppose this teaching is to be aligned with “the antichrist” (v. 7b; see on 1 John 2:18). This word appears only in 1 John 2:18, 22; 4:3; and 2 John 7. This figure is the quintessential opponent of Christianity, one who is radically opposed to Christ and who dismantles the very center of the faith, not someone with marginal theological differences. John has two words of exhortation: Do not be deceived yourselves, and do not encourage the deceivers.

Verses 8–9 form John’s first firm word to his followers: He does not want them to lose all that they have gained so far. The NIV translates, “Watch out that you do not lose what you have worked for,” but the preferred Greek text is first person plural, “Watch out that you do not lose what we have worked for.” As evangelist and pastor, John has been a participant in the birth and maturation of the faith of the recipients of this letter. In other words, they are not the sole custodians of their church, free to do as they wish. John has been a builder among them, and his contributions and responsibility make him a justified critic of what is happening. The chief pitfall he warns against appears in verse 9. While the debated doctrine is the incarnation of Christ, the root problem is that some have “run ahead” and failed to continue in the teachings about Christ. The word “run ahead” in Greek is a term of superiority and appears only here in the New Testament with a negative connotation.8 This is not progress in the faith, but progress beyond it.9

Here is the tension described throughout 1 John. The charismatic teacher-prophets have proposed a view of Christ that “runs ahead,” that pulls up the ancient moorings of tradition. This is why 1 John again and again repeats the idea, “Let remain in you what was from the beginning” (1 John 1:1; 2:7, 13, 14, 24; 3:8, 11; 2 John 5, 6). This is John’s appeal to the past, his way of urging that creative theological insights never destroy the groundwork of what we already know about Christ in the Scriptures. The incarnate Christ is the only person through whom we know God. Christ’s historical work of redemption and mediation is the basis of our salvation. At this point the apostle is uncompromising: to jettison the premier place of Jesus as the exclusive self-disclosure of God, to deny Jesus’ full humanity, is to lose God altogether (see 1 John 2:23–24).

Verses 10–11 describe John’s second firm word. The consequence of this false teaching is so serious that it demands a serious remedy: No hospitality should be extended to those people who bear such erroneous doctrine. An instruction like this is striking and peculiar in the New Testament, which generally encourages Christians to be generously hospitable (Matt. 10:11–14; 1 Tim. 5:10; 1 Peter 4:8–10). Romans 12:13 (cf. NRSV) and Hebrews 13:2 urge Christians to show hospitality to strangers, as if in the author’s mind, an open door and a ready welcome should be characteristic of Christian community.

These troubling verses should be viewed as “emergency regulations,” tied directly to the crisis at hand. They are directives from the battle zone, and they underscore the extreme danger the church is in when it not only tolerates, but actually invites into its ranks those whose teachings undermine traditional Christology. But note that John’s warning is aimed not at those who merely believe these doctrines but especially at those who teach them (who “bears this teaching”). John uses the plural in verse 10, “If anyone comes to you.” John is not referring here to a personal visit of one person with another. Rather, this is an audience with the gathered church. Furthermore, when John refers to receiving them “into your house,” he likely has in mind a private residence used as a primary place of meeting and worship for the community—a house church. The Greek oikia (“house”) often refers to such a meeting place (Rom. 16:5; 1 Cor. 16:19; Col. 4:15). As Smalley comments, “John is not therefore forbidding private hospitality, but rather an official welcome into the congregation, with the widespread opportunities which would then be available for the heretics to promote their cause.”10

A Final Greeting (12–13)

BOTH 2 AND 3 John share similar conclusions. John extends a greeting from his church and expresses his desire to make a personal visit rather than rely on “black ink and papyrus”—as the Greek puts it. We should note his confidence that his readers will receive him and heed his words. The rupture is not complete; they have not fallen into the enemy camp. The situation in 3 John is far more ominous, for there orthodox emissaries have already been rejected. John’s visit, then, will bring some risk of rejection too. But this is not the case yet.

John’s coming to these believers to speak “face to face”11 is aimed at renewing their fellowship so that both pastor and congregation will be joyful (“so that our joy [plural] may be complete”). When a church suffers or celebrates, its pastor does the same. John will be reassured that they are walking in the truth (v. 4), and they will be comforted to know truth from falsehood. This renewal of fellowship, anchored in a confident relationship in Jesus Christ, is John’s image of the Christian life, which he hopes to celebrate with them soon.

In verse 13 John’s greeting from “the children of your chosen sister” once again employs the metaphorical language we read in verse 1. Although this is the only place the phrase occurs in the New Testament, we can be reasonably sure that John is building on family imagery for the church (see on v. 1). “Two sisters” are talking with each other about conditions in the family, and their speech swings from expressions of love and intimacy to feelings of worry and concern.

Bridging Contexts

AS WE CARRY this letter out of the first century and into our own, we find one important interpretive challenge before us. Unless the original context of 2 John and 3 John in some manner corresponds to our context today, we must apply them very cautiously. More to the point, 2 John can be greatly misused if its meaning is not defined by its original context. Some of the New Testament literature can neglect its setting with less problem and the message of the text still be brought to modern pulpits successfully. Not so with 2 John, for there original context is everything.

I recently visited the Vietnam Memorial in Washington, D.C. It was perhaps my fourth visit to the grassy site beneath the Lincoln Memorial. There I listened as young guides explained to groups of tourists the wall’s architectural design with its inscribed names and pointed to the bronze memorials to soldiers and nurses across the field in the trees. But nothing was said about anguish and about how the wall is raw commentary on a devastating national experience. No one interpreted the faces of the statues or the gaze of bronze female medics looking skyward for a medevac to lift them from their jungle hell. No one talked about the 1960s. As a result, the visit of these tourists was an utter loss. They walked past withered flowers and worn letters resting against the wall without a thought. At the Vietnam Memorial on Washington’s mall, original context is everything.

We must not be such unaffected tourists as we read 2 John. This letter too is an artifact from a war. I have described at length the letters’ highly specific setting (see pp. 229–31); to some degree this controls what we can do with them. I have suggested that here we have a house church living on the perimeter of the Johannine community. They have received John’s more public document, outlining the temptations and threats stemming from the false teachers (1 John); now John is communicating to them directly through letter and personal emissary. Both seem inadequate. And in the near future he hopes to visit them in person, so that he can rebuild their friendship, talk about true doctrine, and celebrate their union with the orthodox community. But the subtext of these communiqués is clear: The church is in serious danger.

Therefore, when we open 2 John, we must keep in mind that its recipients are under siege. They are having a devastating experience. In some cases, the threats are subtle. In other cases, missionaries from “the enemy” are trying to make inroads into the church. Thus John employs the strongest language he can—“deceivers,” “antichrist,” do not … welcome him”—because the very existence of the church is at stake.

This is a far cry from Christians today as they meet a believer from another faith. This is also a far cry from meeting an evangelist from another faith, who poses no genuine threat to the church. Some Christians have used 2 John 11 to rebuff such people. The leading interpretive error is to universalize John’s stern warnings while all along neglecting the original context of the letter. Second John demands thoughtful, cautious reflection before it is brought to the pulpit.

What are the building blocks of this original context that we can identify and carry forward? What basic elements from this original context are essential in any application today? Three come to mind. (1) The church’s opponents are attacking a theological issue at the center of the church’s faith, namely, Christology. This is no peripheral theological speculation, such as a debate about the charismatic gifts, the mode of baptism, or small groups. Jesus Christ himself is “in the dock,” and the result of this debate will either spawn a religion centered on his work and words or relegate him to some secondary place. (2) John is warning against teacher-leaders who are out to sabotage the local church. These are not innocent contacts between the Johannine Christians and unbelievers or heretics. Rather, these teachers are trying to gain access to a congregation in order to win an audience and a following. Stott even believes that John may be referring to “official visits” by these teachers, who plan to address the congregation.12 (3) John’s instructions to repel these teachers and refuse them access involves their survival. The result of this struggle will have immense consequences for these people’s personal salvation—and the survival of the church itself.

Contemporary Significance

IF EVER WE feel overwhelmed by the trivia of church life, by the divisions centered on philosophy of ministry or church maintenance, 2 John serves as exhortation and reminder. Most of us know little of the sort of threat described here. And perhaps when we have no genuine external threats to our survival, we find endless things to quarrel about: youth programs, worship style, carpet, and hymnbooks. In February 1994 I attended a conference on Middle Eastern Christianity in Washington, D.C., and roomed with an Egyptian pastor from Cairo. Each night we compared notes on our national churches. I was sobered. In Egypt the Arab Christian church is struggling for life in an increasingly hostile fundamentalist Muslim world. What are this pastor’s concerns? That his people will love each other and remain unified, and that they will stand for the truth about Jesus Christ no matter what the cost. In southern Egypt of late, that price can be high—being a faithful Christian may cost you your life.

These are the twin themes found in 2 John, which distill so much of what it means to be the church. John’s formula is simple: that we love one another as an act of obedience to Jesus Christ, and that we live in the truth, which means defending true belief about Jesus Christ. Love and truth are the twin stars by which the Johannine church navigated—all else was secondary. Perhaps being under siege forces a church to purge itself of its dispensable agendas.

But once we say that the essential nature of the church is “love and truth,” all our problems are not solved. Would that it were so easy! The ongoing questions that John leaves open here center on whom we love and how much truth we should fight for. Are we obligated to love those who disagree with us concerning the truth?

(1) Shutting the gates of the church. John’s teaching that Christians should show no hospitality to their opponents has met with severe criticism among some interpreters. C. H. Dodd, for example, rejected this teaching as being at odds with Jesus’ words in Matthew 5:46–47:

If you love those who love you, what reward will you get? Are not even the tax collectors doing that? And if you greet only your brothers, what are you doing more than others? Do not even the pagans do that?

Similarly, Brown remarks that the type of “fierce exclusiveness” we find in 2 John generally backfires on its practitioners. In 3 John, Brown notes, the apostle gets a taste of his own medicine when his missionaries find the gate locked on them. “In retrospect, the [elder] may have come to wonder whether it would not have been wiser to do unto his adversaries as he would have them do unto him.”13

We must admit that Dodd and Brown are correct on at least one point: The church has often “shut the gate” in order to justify its intolerance of theological deviation. Jehovah’s Witnesses have seen many evangelical doors slam. Mainline liberals have likewise shut the gate on conservatives. Evangelicals have not only shut the gate but mounted a cannon atop, aimed at other conservatives who deny inerrancy, drink alcohol, or refuse some brand of conservative politics. This was the farthest thing from John’s mind.

On the other hand, is there a place for “shutting the gate”? Does a time come when fellowship with some group should be denied or when contact should end? Should Christians ever “draw a line in the sand”? We have good evidence from antiquity that the early Christians were obedient to Jesus’ words to receive openly the traveling teacher/prophet (Matt. 10:40; Mark 9:37). However, more evidence shows that this hospitality was quickly exploited. The early second-century Christian writing Didache teaches, “Whenever someone comes and teaches you all these things we have talked about, receive him. But if the teacher himself has deviated by teaching another doctrine that contradicts these things, do not listen to him” (Didache 11:1–2). The same warnings were voiced in Ignatius in the same time period (Smyrnaeans 4:1; Ephesians 7:1). In his Letter to the Ephesians Ignatius tells the Christians to “stop up their ears” so that traveling beguiling teachers will not pollute them (9:1).

Despite what we hear in our popular culture, tolerance is not an ultimate virtue. Strong action is appropriate when individuals jeopardize the very integrity of the church. It is significant that in Matthew 18:17 Jesus describes a church member who sins seriously and yet will not accept admonishment. Quite simply, the person is to be shunned: “Treat him as you would a pagan or a tax collector.” Paul manifests the same view in 1 Corinthians 5:1–5, 13. In other words, tolerance must have its limits if the church is to have integrity.

It is clear that the pressing issue for John’s church had to do with the Incarnation, which is no peripheral subject. But John gives us little guidance concerning what other matters would qualify as “gate-shutting” concerns. It is easy to be glib about this and refer to genuinely peripheral issues like baptism and tobacco. But matters become far more intense—and the questions more difficult—when we wonder about the legitimacy of other divisive issues. What about inerrancy? Homosexuality? Abortion? Catholicism? Women’s ordination? Do these justify gate-shutting today? Is it right to exclude from fellowship those who embrace such issues? The answers here are often complex.

(2) Using the doctrine of the church. Many of my students have a tangible disdain for doctrine. Their primary arbiter in matters of faith and practice is the Bible. This is excellent and I affirm them. However, I also wonder if they recognize that every heretic marched into exile with a Bible tucked into his or her luggage! John offers a provocative phrase in verse 9 when he describes someone “who runs ahead and does not continue in the teaching of Christ.” Note that John is not saying that we ought to merely abide in Christ; we also must abide in the teachings about Christ. What were these teachings?

Admittedly, we can point to a recitation of Bible verses that defend the humanity and divinity of Christ, and no doubt John could do this too (using the Fourth Gospel). But in the fourth century Arius did the same and came to a different result. John implies that Christians would do well to respect and learn from the consensus that has come to us from tradition, from the things passed down from the beginning. In John’s world, this meant the traditional teachings that bore apostolic authority. But what does this look like today? What does it means for us to learn from the historic consensus of the church?

All of this suggests a renewed interest in the history of the church. We ought to revive our creeds in which mature men and women of faith struggled to define Christianity. I think, for instance, of the potency of understanding Chalcedon as we read New Testament Christology, or the power of what happened in the Reformation as we study Galatians. Creeds usually disguise stories of challenge to the faith analogous to our own time and place. What better tutor than the Barmen Declaration of 1934 to teach mature Christians to continue to live by the Word of God rather than the demands of nationalism (in that case, the Nazis)!

(3) Guarding the message of the church. I am reminded again and again in John’s letters that there is one central theological doctrine that overshadows all else. We have life only through Jesus Christ, God’s Son, who truly became one of us for our salvation. This much is obvious. But voices constantly arise in our own culture that would like to dilute the exclusive (and offensive) nature of that message. For some, Jesus Christ is one more problem that makes genuine union among the religions of the world impossible. For others, the incarnation and death of Jesus is one more embarrassment that harks back to an archaic day when crosses and sacrifice meant something. For still others, Jesus Christ is one more offense that promotes a patriarchal system of abuse that in the modern world we must purge.

My point is this: We will experience a pressure to dilute the message of Christ that is no different from the pressure faced by the Johannine world. John’s followers felt acute pressure from the sophisticated halls of Hellenistic academe—not to mention the popular voices of the marketplace—to reduce the person of Christ into someone less than he was. John calls his followers to stand firm, and he would have us do the same.