Memorial of Saints Martha, Mary, and Lazarus – Lectionary: 403/607

The God Who Lets His Friends Complain

There is a moment in every real friendship when politeness falls away and honesty takes over. Today, on the Memorial of Saints Martha, Mary, and Lazarus, the Church hands over three readings about exactly that kind of honesty with God. This memorial is both ancient and brand new. Saint Martha held July 29 on the calendar for centuries, but in 2021 Pope Francis expanded the celebration to include her siblings, so that the whole household of Bethany is now honored together. The decree establishing the memorial recalls that in that home “the Lord Jesus experienced the family spirit and friendship of Martha, Mary and Lazarus, and for this reason the Gospel of John states that he loved them” (Decree of the Congregation for Divine Worship, January 26, 2021).

Friendship with God is the thread running through everything today. Jeremiah, the prophet who loved God’s words enough to devour them, turns around and accuses God of being a dried-up stream. David, ambushed in the night, cries out for rescue and calls God his fortress before the rescue ever arrives. And Martha, standing on the road outside Bethany with a four-day-old grief in her chest, tells Jesus to His face that He came too late. None of them are struck down for their honesty. Every one of them receives something better than an explanation. Jeremiah receives a renewed mission. David receives a song at dawn. Martha receives the single greatest self-revelation Jesus ever spoke to an individual: “I am the resurrection and the life” (John 11:25). The lesson is unmistakable. God can handle honest prayer, and He answers it with His very self.

First Reading — Jeremiah 15:10, 16-21

The Prophet Who Argued with God and Kept His Job

Jeremiah preached in Judah during its final, doomed decades before Babylon destroyed Jerusalem in 587 BC. Called as a young man, he spent roughly forty years announcing a message nobody wanted to hear, and he paid for it with loneliness, beatings, imprisonment, and plots against his life, some hatched in his own hometown of Anathoth. This passage comes from what scholars call the Confessions of Jeremiah, a set of achingly personal prayers scattered through chapters 11 to 20 in which the prophet pours out his anguish directly to God. Nothing else in the prophetic books sounds quite like them. They are raw, unfiltered, and at moments they come startlingly close to accusing God of betrayal. That the Church places this reading on the memorial of the family of Bethany is no accident, because Martha will bring this same holy honesty to the road outside her village.

Jeremiah 15:10, 16-21 – New American Bible (Revised Edition)

Jeremiah’s Complaint

¹⁰ Woe to me, my mother, that you gave me birth!
    a man of strife and contention to all the land!
I neither borrow nor lend,
    yet everyone curses me.

¹⁶ When I found your words, I devoured them;
    your words were my joy, the happiness of my heart,
Because I bear your name,
    Lord, God of hosts.
¹⁷ I did not sit celebrating
    in the circle of merrymakers;
Under the weight of your hand I sat alone
    because you filled me with rage.
¹⁸ Why is my pain continuous,
    my wound incurable, refusing to be healed?
To me you are like a deceptive brook,
    waters that cannot be relied on!
¹⁹ Thus the Lord answered me:
If you come back and I take you back,
    in my presence you shall stand;
If you utter what is precious and not what is worthless,
    you shall be my mouth.
Then they will be the ones who turn to you,
    not you who turn to them.
²⁰ And I will make you toward this people
    a fortified wall of bronze.
Though they fight against you,
    they shall not prevail,
For I am with you,
    to save and rescue you—oracle of the Lord.
²¹ I will rescue you from the hand of the wicked,
    and ransom you from the power of the violent.

Detailed Exegesis

Verse 10: “Woe to me, my mother, that you gave me birth! a man of strife and contention to all the land! I neither borrow nor lend, yet everyone curses me.”

Jeremiah opens by lamenting the day he was born, a cry he will repeat even more fiercely in Jeremiah 20:14-18. In the ancient Near East, lending and borrowing were the most common sources of neighborly conflict, so Jeremiah is saying he has done nothing to earn anyone’s hatred. He is hated purely for speaking God’s word. The prophet’s vocation has cost him every ordinary comfort.

Verse 16: “When I found your words, I devoured them; your words were my joy, the happiness of my heart, Because I bear your name, Lord, God of hosts.”

The complaint suddenly gives way to a love song. Many commentators connect this verse to the rediscovery of the Book of the Law in the Temple under King Josiah around 622 BC, an event Jeremiah lived through as a young prophet. To “devour” God’s words is to take them in as food, an image repeated when Ezekiel eats the scroll in Ezekiel 3:1-3. Bearing God’s name means Jeremiah belongs to the Lord the way a bride belongs to her bridegroom.

Verse 17: “I did not sit celebrating in the circle of merrymakers; Under the weight of your hand I sat alone because you filled me with rage.”

The prophetic call isolated Jeremiah completely. God had even forbidden him to marry or attend feasts and funerals as a living sign of the desolation coming upon Judah, which is recorded in Jeremiah 16:1-9. The “rage” here is not petty anger but the burning indignation of God against sin, which the prophet carries in his own body like a fever.

Verse 18: “Why is my pain continuous, my wound incurable, refusing to be healed? To me you are like a deceptive brook, waters that cannot be relied on!”

This is one of the boldest sentences any human being speaks to God in all of Scripture. A wadi in the Judean hills roars with water in the rainy season and lies bone dry in summer, exactly when a traveler needs it most. Jeremiah, the man who once compared God to “the source of living waters” in Jeremiah 2:13, now accuses Him of being a mirage. This is what tested faith sounds like when it refuses to pretend.

Verse 19: “Thus the Lord answered me: If you come back and I take you back, in my presence you shall stand; If you utter what is precious and not what is worthless, you shall be my mouth. Then they will be the ones who turn to you, not you who turn to them.”

Notice what God does not do. He does not strike Jeremiah down for insolence, and He does not coddle him either. He calls the prophet himself to conversion. Even prophets need repentance. To “stand in the presence” of the Lord is the posture of a trusted servant, and to be God’s “mouth” is the very definition of a prophet. The complaint is heard, purified, and turned back into mission.

Verse 20: “And I will make you toward this people a fortified wall of bronze. Though they fight against you, they shall not prevail, For I am with you, to save and rescue you, oracle of the Lord.”

God renews, almost word for word, the promise He made at Jeremiah’s original call in Jeremiah 1:18-19. The prophet asked for the pain to stop. God instead promises something deeper, His own unbreakable presence in the middle of the fight. The wall of bronze does not mean no one will attack; it means no attack will win.

Verse 21: “I will rescue you from the hand of the wicked, and ransom you from the power of the violent.”

The word “ransom” carries the weight of redemption language throughout Scripture, the price paid to free a captive. God commits Himself personally to Jeremiah’s deliverance, a promise history vindicated when the prophet survived every plot against him even as Jerusalem fell.

Teachings

The Catechism holds up the prophets, and Jeremiah explicitly, as teachers of prayer precisely because of passages like this one. It teaches, “In their ‘one to one’ encounters with God, the prophets draw light and strength for their mission. Their prayer is not flight from this unfaithful world, but rather attentiveness to the Word of God. At times their prayer is an argument or a complaint, but it is always an intercession that awaits and prepares for the intervention of the Savior God, the Lord of history” (CCC 2584). The Church is remarkably unembarrassed by Jeremiah’s argument with God. Complaint, offered within relationship, is a legitimate form of prayer.

The Catechism also explains why faith and anguish can coexist in the same heart. It teaches, “Even though enlightened by him in whom it believes, faith is often lived in darkness and can be put to the test. The world we live in often seems very far from the one promised us by faith. Our experiences of evil and suffering, injustice, and death seem to contradict the Good News; they can shake faith and become a temptation against it” (CCC 164). Jeremiah’s dry-brook accusation is exactly this temptation spoken out loud, and God’s answer shows that bringing the temptation into His presence is precisely how it is overcome. The Church Fathers, including Origen and Saint Jerome, who both wrote extensively on Jeremiah, consistently read this suffering prophet as a figure pointing forward to Christ, the ultimate rejected prophet who wept over Jerusalem and was hated without cause.

Reflection

Jeremiah gives every believer permission to stop performing in prayer. There are seasons when God feels like a dry streambed, when faithfulness seems to produce nothing but isolation and fatigue. The temptation in those seasons is either to fake enthusiasm or to quietly walk away. Jeremiah models a third path, staying in the conversation and telling God the whole truth.

Consider some concrete ways to live this out. Set aside ten minutes this week to pray with complete honesty, saying to God the thing that has gone unsaid, even if it sounds like an accusation. Then sit in silence and let Him answer, remembering that His answer to Jeremiah was renewed purpose, not an apology. Return to a Scripture passage that once set the heart on fire, and “devour” it again slowly. Finally, when God’s answer calls for personal conversion, as verse 19 called Jeremiah back, receive that correction as a mark of friendship rather than rejection.

When has God felt like a deceptive brook in life, and was that honest feeling ever spoken to Him in prayer? What word of God, once devoured with joy, is waiting to be tasted again?

Responsorial Psalm — Psalm 59:2-4, 10-11, 17-18

A Song Written While the Assassins Waited Outside

The ancient superscription of Psalm 59 ties it to one of the most cinematic nights in the Old Testament, recorded in 1 Samuel 19:11, when King Saul sent men to surround David’s house and watch it through the night so they could kill him in the morning. David escaped through a window with the help of his wife Michal, and tradition places this psalm on his lips during that long, terrifying night. It is an individual lament, the same prayer form Jeremiah used, and it follows the classic movement of Israel’s laments: a desperate cry for rescue, a protest of innocence, a declaration of trust, and finally a vow of praise. On this memorial the Church sings it as the bridge between Jeremiah’s complaint and Martha’s grief, because it shows what happens when honest fear turns its face toward God.

Psalm 59:2-4, 10-11, 17-18 – New American Bible (Revised Edition)

² Rescue me from my enemies, my God;
    lift me out of reach of my foes.
³ Deliver me from evildoers;
    from the bloodthirsty save me.
⁴ They have set an ambush for my life;
    the powerful conspire against me.
For no offense or misdeed of mine, Lord,

¹⁰ My strength, for you I watch;
    you, God, are my fortress,
¹¹     my loving God.

May God go before me,
    and show me my fallen foes.

¹⁷ But I shall sing of your strength,
    extol your mercy at dawn,
For you are my fortress,
    my refuge in time of trouble.
¹⁸ My strength, your praise I will sing;
    you, God, are my fortress, my loving God.

Detailed Exegesis

Verse 2: “Rescue me from my enemies, my God; lift me out of reach of my foes.”

The psalm opens with two urgent imperatives. The Hebrew image behind “lift me out of reach” is of being set securely on high, like a fugitive placed on an inaccessible cliff. Before anything else, the psalmist claims God with the possessive, “my God.” The relationship comes before the request.

Verse 3: “Deliver me from evildoers; from the bloodthirsty save me.”

The danger is not exaggerated. Saul’s men were literally waiting to shed blood. The psalmist names the threat plainly, teaching that prayer does not require softening reality before God hears it.

Verse 4: “They have set an ambush for my life; the powerful conspire against me. For no offense or misdeed of mine, Lord.”

Like Jeremiah, who neither borrowed nor lent yet was cursed by all, David protests his innocence. He suffers not because of his sin but because of his anointing. Innocent suffering is one of Scripture’s hardest mysteries, and it finds its full answer only at the Cross, where the truly sinless One was ambushed by the powerful.

Verse 10: “My strength, for you I watch; you, God, are my fortress.”

The turning point of the psalm. While Saul’s men watch David’s house, David watches God. The same word describes both vigils, but only one of them ends in victory. Calling God a fortress transforms the psalmist’s whole situation; he is no longer a man trapped in a house but a man hidden in God.

Verse 11: “my loving God. May God go before me, and show me my fallen foes.”

The Hebrew word behind “loving God” is hesed, the covenant mercy of God that runs like a golden thread through the entire Old Testament. David asks God to “go before” him, the language of a king marching ahead of his army. The believer never walks into any battle first.

Verse 17: “But I shall sing of your strength, extol your mercy at dawn, For you are my fortress, my refuge in time of trouble.”

The ambush was set at night; the praise is promised at dawn. The psalmist vows to sing before the sun rises on his rescue, praising God’s strength and mercy while the danger technically still stands. Dawn in the Psalms is the hour of God’s help, as Psalm 46:6 says the Lord helps His city at the break of dawn. Christian tradition has always heard in this dawn an echo of Easter morning.

Verse 18: “My strength, your praise I will sing; you, God, are my fortress, my loving God.”

The psalm ends by gathering its three great titles into one breath: strength, fortress, loving God. What began as a scream for rescue ends as a song. That transformation, worked inside the praying heart before circumstances ever change, is the quiet miracle of the Psalter.

Teachings

The Catechism teaches that this movement from lament to praise is not incidental but essential to the Psalms. It states, “Certain constant characteristics appear throughout the Psalms: simplicity and spontaneity of prayer; the desire for God himself through and with all that is good in his creation; the distraught situation of the believer who, in his preferential love for the Lord, is exposed to a host of enemies and temptations, but who waits upon what the faithful God will do, in the certitude of his love and in submission to his will. The prayer of the psalms is always sustained by praise” (CCC 2589).

The Catechism also names the Psalms as the great school of Christian hope, teaching, “The Holy Spirit, who instructs us to celebrate the liturgy in expectation of Christ’s return, teaches us to pray in hope. Conversely, the prayer of the Church and personal prayer nourish hope in us. The psalms especially, with their concrete and varied language, teach us to fix our hope in God” (CCC 2657). David sang of dawn while it was still night. Martha will confess the resurrection while her brother still lies in the tomb. Hope, in the biblical sense, always sings a little ahead of the evidence, not because it denies the darkness but because it knows who owns the morning.

Reflection

Everyone knows what it feels like to be watched by trouble, whether the ambush takes the form of a medical diagnosis, a workplace conspiracy, a family conflict, or a fear that circles the house of the mind at night. Psalm 59 offers a practical pattern for those nights. Name the danger honestly. Protest to God without pretending. Then deliberately shift the vigil, watching for God instead of watching the threat.

Try a simple practice this week. At the moment anxiety strikes, pray verse 10 slowly: “My strength, for you I watch; you, God, are my fortress.” Repeat it until the watching actually changes direction. Then, before any resolution comes, choose one concrete act of praise at dawn, whether that means a morning offering, a hymn on the commute, or a simple thank you spoken before checking the phone. Praising God before the rescue arrives is not denial; it is faith doing what faith does.

What ambush is currently being watched more closely than God is? What would it look like to sing of His mercy at dawn tomorrow, before anything about the situation changes?

Holy Gospel — John 11:19-27

The Complaint That Became the Greatest Confession

Bethany sat about two miles east of Jerusalem on the slope of the Mount of Olives, close enough that mourners from the city poured out to console Martha and Mary after Lazarus died. Jewish mourning customs of the time were intense and communal, with the first week spent in deep grief at home, surrounded by friends, which explains the crowd gathered in the house. Jesus had a real friendship with this family. John 11:5 says plainly that Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus, and their home appears as His place of rest in Luke 10:38-42 as well. By the time Jesus arrives, Lazarus has been in the tomb four days, past the point where popular Jewish belief held that the soul lingered near the body. All hope, humanly speaking, is dead. Into that finished grief walks the Lord, and Martha runs to meet Him with the same honest lament Jeremiah and David prayed, receiving in return the words the Church has spoken at every Christian funeral since.

John 11:19-27 – New American Bible (Revised Edition)

¹⁹ And many of the Jews had come to Martha and Mary to comfort them about their brother. ²⁰ When Martha heard that Jesus was coming, she went to meet him; but Mary sat at home. ²¹ Martha said to Jesus, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died. ²² [But] even now I know that whatever you ask of God, God will give you.” ²³ Jesus said to her, “Your brother will rise.” ²⁴ Martha said to him, “I know he will rise, in the resurrection on the last day.” ²⁵ Jesus told her, “I am the resurrection and the life; whoever believes in me, even if he dies, will live, ²⁶ and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die. Do you believe this?” ²⁷ She said to him, “Yes, Lord. I have come to believe that you are the Messiah, the Son of God, the one who is coming into the world.”

Detailed Exegesis

Verse 19: “And many of the Jews had come to Martha and Mary to comfort them about their brother.”

The detail matters for what follows. These Jerusalem mourners become eyewitnesses to everything Jesus is about to do, which is why the raising of Lazarus directly triggers the plot against Jesus later in the chapter. Consolation of the grieving was considered a sacred duty in Israel, and the Church continues it today, listing comforting the sorrowful among the spiritual works of mercy.

Verse 20: “When Martha heard that Jesus was coming, she went to meet him; but Mary sat at home.”

Each sister grieves according to her nature. Martha, the woman of action from Luke 10, cannot sit still and goes out to meet the Lord on the road. Mary, the contemplative who sat at His feet, remains in the stillness of the house. The Gospel honors both temperaments; Jesus will meet each sister exactly where she is.

Verse 21: “Martha said to Jesus, ‘Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.’”

Here is the lament of the whole day compressed into one sentence. It is simultaneously an act of faith, since Martha believes absolutely in Jesus’ power to heal, and a complaint, since He did not come in time. She sounds like Jeremiah at the dry brook. She says to God’s face the thing every grieving believer has thought: where were You?

Verse 22: “‘[But] even now I know that whatever you ask of God, God will give you.’”

The phrase “even now” may be the two most courageous words in the passage. With her brother four days dead, Martha refuses to close the door on hope. She does not know what to ask for, and she does not dare name a resurrection, but she places the impossible situation in Jesus’ hands anyway. This is Psalm 59’s dawn-song sung in broad grief.

Verse 23: “Jesus said to her, ‘Your brother will rise.’”

Jesus answers with a promise that sounds, at first hearing, like the standard consolation any pious visitor might have offered. He often begins where people are before taking them somewhere they never imagined.

Verse 24: “Martha said to him, ‘I know he will rise, in the resurrection on the last day.’”

Martha professes the orthodox faith of the Pharisees, shared by most Jews of her time and grounded in texts like Daniel 12:2, that the dead will rise at the end of history. Her doctrine is correct but distant, a truth scheduled for the far horizon. She believes in the resurrection as an event. She has not yet realized it is a Person standing on the road with her.

Verse 25: “Jesus told her, ‘I am the resurrection and the life; whoever believes in me, even if he dies, will live.’”

This is the fifth of the seven great “I AM” declarations in The Gospel of John, and the Greek behind it, ego eimi, deliberately echoes the divine name revealed to Moses in Exodus 3:14. Jesus does not say He will perform the resurrection; He says He is the resurrection. Eternal life is not a future program but a present relationship with Him. Physical death remains real, “even if he dies,” but for the believer it loses its finality.

Verse 26: “‘and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die. Do you believe this?’”

Jesus pairs the promise with the most personal question in the Gospel. He does not ask Martha whether she understands this; He asks whether she believes it, and He asks her by the tomb of her brother, at the worst moment of her life. Faith is never more itself than when it answers that question in the dark.

Verse 27: “She said to him, ‘Yes, Lord. I have come to believe that you are the Messiah, the Son of God, the one who is coming into the world.’”

Martha’s confession stands shoulder to shoulder with Peter’s confession at Caesarea Philippi in Matthew 16:16, using nearly identical titles, and it comes before Lazarus is raised. She confesses the resurrection while the stone still seals the tomb. The busy hostess of Luke 10 is revealed as one of the great theologians of the Gospel, which is why the Church now honors her together with her contemplative sister and her brother whom Jesus called back from death.

Teachings

The Catechism places this exchange at the very center of Christian hope. It teaches, “But there is more. Jesus links faith in the resurrection to his own person: ‘I am the Resurrection and the life.’ It is Jesus himself who on the last day will raise up those who have believed in him, who have eaten his body and drunk his blood. Already now in this present life he gives a sign and pledge of this by restoring some of the dead to life, announcing thereby his own Resurrection, though it was to be of another order” (CCC 994). The raising of Lazarus, which follows immediately after this reading, is precisely that sign and pledge.

Saint Augustine preached on this scene in his Tractate 49 on the Gospel of John, marveling first at who performed the miracle: “Among all the miracles wrought by our Lord Jesus Christ, the resurrection of Lazarus holds a foremost place in preaching. But if we consider attentively who did it, our duty is to rejoice rather than to wonder… It is a greater deed to create men than to raise them again from the dead.” On Jesus’ answer to Martha, Augustine explains, “You say, My brother shall rise again at the last day: true; but by Him, through whom he shall rise then, can he rise even now, for I, He says, am the resurrection and the life.” The Doctor of Grace saw exactly what Martha was learning on that road: the last day had walked into the present moment.

The Catechism draws out what this means for every baptized soul, teaching, “Christ will raise us up ‘on the last day’; but it is also true that, in a certain way, we have already risen with Christ. For, by virtue of the Holy Spirit, Christian life is already now on earth a participation in the death and Resurrection of Christ” (CCC 1002).

Reflection

Martha teaches the art of grieving as a believer. She did not suppress her complaint, and she did not let her complaint have the last word. She brought it to Jesus, listened, and let Him move her from correct doctrine to living encounter. That journey, from “I know he will rise on the last day” to “Yes, Lord, I have come to believe that you are the Messiah,” is the journey every Christian is invited to make.

Some concrete steps can help. When grief or disappointment strikes, go out to meet Jesus like Martha rather than waiting for the feelings to resolve, perhaps by taking the sorrow directly to Him in Adoration or before a crucifix. Practice saying “even now” in prayer over the situation that seems four days dead, whether that is a relationship, a lapsed family member’s faith, or a long-buried dream. And let Jesus ask the question personally: Do you believe this? Answer Him out loud. At every funeral Mass, the Church proclaims these very words over the casket, and they are meant to be believed long before that day arrives.

Which truth of the faith is known correctly, like Martha’s doctrine of the last day, but not yet trusted personally? What would change if “I am the resurrection and the life” were believed about the situation being grieved right now?

Where the Road of Complaint Ends

Put the three readings side by side and a single road appears. It begins with Jeremiah, sitting alone under the weight of his calling, telling God that He feels like a brook that ran dry. It continues through David’s house in the dark, assassins at the window, while a fugitive king sings about dawn. And it ends on a dusty road outside Bethany, where a grieving woman tells the Lord He arrived too late and hears, in reply, the words that have carried the Church through two thousand years of funerals: “I am the resurrection and the life” (John 11:25).

Notice what God never does on this road. He never punishes the honesty. He never demands that His friends clean up their prayers before He will hear them. Jeremiah’s complaint is answered with a renewed mission and a promise, “For I am with you, to save and rescue you” (Jeremiah 15:20). David’s terror is answered with a fortress. Martha’s grief is answered with a Person. In every case, God’s response to lament is deeper presence, because presence, not explanation, is what the aching heart actually needs.

The household of Bethany shows what that presence builds over time: a home where Jesus was loved, fed, listened to, and trusted, a family He wept with and a tomb He emptied. Every home, every heart, can become Bethany. So bring Him the complaint that has been rehearsed in silence. Bring Him the fear that watches the house at night. Bring Him the grief that seems four days past hope. Speak plainly, the way His friends always have. Then stay on the road long enough to hear His answer, and like Martha, be ready to say yes.

Engage With Us!

The conversation continues in the comments below, and every reflection shared there becomes an encouragement to someone else walking the same road. After sitting with these readings, prayerfully consider the following questions and share any responses that the Holy Spirit brings to mind.

1. In Jeremiah 15:10, 16-21, the prophet moves from devouring God’s words with joy to accusing God of being a deceptive brook, and God responds by renewing his mission. When has a season of spiritual dryness been honestly named in prayer, and how did God turn that honesty into something new?
2. In Psalm 59:2-4, 10-11, 17-18, David watches for God while his enemies watch his house, and he vows to praise God’s mercy at dawn before the rescue comes. What current trouble is being watched more anxiously than God is being watched, and what act of praise could be offered at dawn tomorrow?
3. In John 11:19-27, Martha tells Jesus that her brother would not have died if He had been there, then confesses that He is the Messiah, the Son of God. Which grief or disappointment needs to be carried out to meet Jesus on the road, and what would it mean to answer His question, do you believe this?
4. Taken together, the readings reveal a God who answers the honest complaints of His friends with His own presence. Where is God inviting a more honest friendship with Him this week, and what is one concrete step toward it?

Faith was never meant to be a performance of unshakable cheerfulness. It is a friendship sturdy enough for complaints, laments, and questions asked through tears, because the One on the other side of the conversation is the Resurrection and the Life Himself. Walk through this week speaking plainly to Him, trusting Him at dawn, and treating every person encountered with the love and mercy Jesus taught us. He is with us, to save and rescue us, even now.

Sacred Heart of Jesus, we trust in You!

Immaculate Heart of Mary, pray for us!

Saint Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle! 

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