Why its Time the Church Retired the Term “Forgiveness”
Hello all. I know its a rare thing for me to sit down and write these days but here I am - answering a particularly poignant question that has popped up in my inbox a bit of late. It’s the question of forgiveness. Now I’ll state up front that I am no theologian. I am a geek who has been in church for all but two years of her life. I’ve been in good churches and toxic ones. I’m sure I’ve likely been in good churches that were only good on the surface. I’ve experienced and witnessed things that would make Jesus’ roll in his grave (a metaphor I’m sure I’m not allowed to use!) and I hope I’ve been part of a small amount of healing for people who have walked some pretty terrible roads. It’s taken me a long time to stop fearing judgement and damnation enough to back myself enough to make the big calls. So I’m here making one today: Church needs to stop weaponising the word forgiveness. If it can’t do that, it needs to retire the term altogether.
I said what I said. Now let me explain. (CW: sexual assualt and other religious abuse)
I’m a communications professional. That’s my wheelhouse. Thus, I am acutely aware of the evolving nature of language, and that words are just sounds we make. We imbue them with meaning that is then shared by other people and then Huzzah - we have something that we can use to express our thoughts and their meanings to other people. One example is the word I just used: Huzzah has no real meaning other than that its an exclamation of something like joy or applause. Pretty vague, but pair it with the body language of the person yelling it and you’ll have a pretty clear understanding of what they’re talking about.
The meanings of words evolve. I’ve heard it said that there is currently no word in the English language that means “literally.” Why? How many times have you heard someone say “I literally died.” or something like that. Well they didn’t die. They’re talking to you right now, and more likely about a funny or awkward situation - not about a medical emergency. No one died. Not even close. The word “literally” is evolving to mean something more like “experiencing a strong feeling or placing a strong emphasis on something.” It doesn’t really mean “literally” anymore.
So then, is it possible there's a gap between what forgiveness should mean and the meaning it has taken on? I defer here to the writings of Maria Mayo, who holds a Master of Divinity and a PhD. She makes some seriously interesting points on this same topic (in fact, go read the article. Its great. It’s here.) The word ‘forgive’ comes from “aphiemi” which, as per usual with Greek terms, translates to a wide variety of things poorly captured by our watered-down English translations. Words associated with aphiemi include “to remit (a debt), to leave (something or someone) alone, to allow (an action), to leave, to send away, to desert or abandon, and even to divorce.” So there’s a wide variety of things it was supposed to mean. But these days, it seems to mean “forget something happened. Don’t do anything about it. Get on with your life.” As if victims of life altering trauma have the option to do that. As if it’s even okay to place such a demand on someone who has sustained such damage.
Interestingly, the prevailing idea of forgiveness as a mental or emotional condition is much more modern. It “traces to 18th-century moral philosophy, not first-century Christian writings, ”says Mayo.
When you read through Jesus’ statements on forgiveness, you’ll find that he speaks mostly about humans forgiving each other. But there’s another element in there: repentance. If we repent, turn away from our sin in action and intent, forgiveness is available to us. Fine. Good. Perfect.
So what’s the problem?
The Weaponising of the Word
We have witnessed the floodgates open in terms of abuse allegations against churches and church leaders in recent times. I won’t rehash it again as I’ve blogged on it very recently and dropped names. Plus, lets be honest, most of you reading this would have a harrowing story or two pop to mind without my assistance. Sadly, there is a common story that runs right alongside allegations of abuse within religious circles and faith communities (not all of them, blah blah blah).
The modern day church too often weaponises the term ‘forgiveness’ against victims of abuse or mistreatment for whom there is no repentant transgressor. The term ‘forgiveness’ is then taken to mean ‘lose your chance at justice’, ‘sweep this under the rug’ or worse, ‘allow your abuser to keep abusing.’
Classic example: Josh Duggar of 19 Kids and Counting was busted for sexually abusing some of his sisters. He was sent to a church based rehab thing (which I seriously doubt the therapeutic credentials of) and then a big show was made of his sisters forgiving him. Justice was not done. It was swept under the rug. Years later, he is up on child pornography charges that make my stomach churn. The burden of forgiveness was placed on his sisters, the victims, while the burden of repentance with an active “turning from evil ways” was not adequately placed on Josh.
I wonder how his sisters feel. I don’t wonder what they say. I know what it’s like to be a good Christian girl and say the right things. But often this comes with a searing sense of betraying ones own soul. This never brings true healing. In my observation, it re-traumatises the victim because, when what they needed was a police report, a supportive community and a therapist, they were given trite scriptures justifying leaderships desire that they shut up about it. The meaning with which the word ‘forgiveness’ was imbued was made very, very clear.
That is traumatising. That is hitting out at vulnerable people who need the support of the church community. If Jesus was in the room, he wouldn’t be telling the victim to shut up. He’d more likely be throwing a table at those who demanded such silence and who got in the way of justice. I’m also quite sure that, should the perpetrator have a genuinely repentant heart, Jesus would forgive. But that doesn’t mean justice wouldn’t be done.
Remember: render unto Caesar what is Caesar’s. If sin is lawlessness, then there is a penalty for that even if you said you’re sorry.
While yes, the New Testament talks about forgiveness a lot, there is a condition. Maria Mayo writes, "The author of the Gospel of Luke repeats the same story, but adds a condition to forgiveness, stating that church members must forgive boundlessly "if there is repentance" (17:3).
So here is my hot take: The burden of forgiveness should not be pressed upon the victim of crime or abuse. The burden of repentance needs to be placed on the perpetrator. And that perp needs to “bear fruits worthy of repentance.” I.e. Hand yourself into the police if you have committed a crime. Even if your pastor says you don’t have to. Your pastor is not above the law of the land. Not ever.
Side note: Like many survivors of the more toxic aspects of church, I’ve heard the whole “turn the other cheek” line quite a bit, along with the old line about the Bible never contradicting itself. Here’s a fun one for you then - the Bible also says “an eye for an eye.” So while we can shrug off the little things and move on with our day, there is certainly no Biblical precedent for letting major abuse or mistreatment fall under the category “turn the other cheek.”
Just like there is no Biblical precedent for forgiving where there is no repentance. Even Jesus on the cross didn’t forgive, he prayed that God would. Modern translations of the Bible don’t tell us which version of Aphiemi was used in that moment. All we know is that Jesus died bearing no ill will towards the ones who taunted him, as unrepentant as they may be.
Which brings me to the next big point: what then do we do with our hurt?
Therapeutically speaking…
While undoubtedly, I’ve been known to write with a pen of fire (I think I can thank my grandmother, the original Kit, for this gift), those who know me see me as a soft-hearted and compassionate person. I can be both things - fiery and soft-hearted - because of two things: therapy and boundaries.
Not once has my therapist used the word “forgiveness” to me. She knows, as any good counsellor would, that such a word would shut down my processing of all the things I’ve gone through. It would stunt my progress towards peace and happiness. To be pushed in any way towards a certain end would be tantamount to therapeutic sabotage.
Under skilled, qualified care, I’m doing amazingly well.
While I am sure pastors and Christian teachers have good intentions for people when they speak about healing and forgiveness in the same breath, the two are not necessarily connected. Survivors of abuse and mistreatment do not need to forgive their unrepentant transgressors in order to gain mental and emotional health. They need to be empowered over and above the degree to which they were disempowered, they need supportive community that doesn’t play down or try to erase their abuse, and they need to be given adequate support to process and work through the trauma. This includes qualified medical and psychological help in many cases.
When we say “Just forgive” we shut down this vital pyscho-emotional processing, disempower the victim again, and stunt the growth towards healing. As well-intentioned as this might be, it is damaging. I’d argue that the road of true healing, psychoemotional processing of trauma and then empowered choices regarding justice or clemency is the hard road. the right road, but the hard road. “Just forgive” is easy in a way. You don’t have to face the damage. You don’t have to sit in the wreckage and look at it. You don’t have to decide anything.
But what we know from research regarding PTSD and trauma is that the body remembers. Trauma will find its way out of the shadows and up to the surface, no matter how many times you said the words I forgive.
One thing that makes me laugh these days is the contents of my shame shelf. Yes, you heard it. I had a shame shelf. Over the years, following my disclosure of abuse, I was given by various people quite a collection of books. I’d say most of them were gifted by well intended but poorly informed people. They were books on forgiveness, on how women need to be less bitter and then they’d feel better or how reading a prayer out loud would fix everything (*eye-roll). Would it surprise you that while this was the best advice available to me, I was at my worst?
They went on the shame shelf, right next to fiction novels I wouldn't dream of admitting I own. When I learned to laugh at the lot of those books, I threw them out (But okay. I kept the Twilight series. *Gasp). With them went my shame over having faced abuse in religious settings or communities. I realised the shame doesn’t belong on my shoulders. It belongs on the shoulders of those who did me wrong. I don’t hold it against the people who gave me those books. Frankly, I’ve only got a finite emotional budget to spend each day and it would get spent real quick if I dwelt on the actions of good people who were ill-informed. So I choose to laugh at the shame shelf and educate myself so I never make the same mistake, no matter how well-intentioned I am.
If there is no repentance, there is no capacity for real forgiveness if for no other reason than the victim then spends the rest of their life wondering if the perp is at it again. I can tell you this though. Forgiveness, where there is remorse, is amazing. I had the incredible experience of having one transgressor ask for my forgiveness. It was beautiful. It came at a time where I had benefited from enough therapy to have the skills to extend compassion and forgiveness while also maintaining boundaries. It goes down as a red letter day for me, because I felt empowered and in no way bitter at all. That was genuine repentance and forgiveness.
There are others from whom I will never get such a question. My pursuit of therapy has allowed me to have the skills to process that, set boundaries that maintain my emotional and mental safety (and that of my children) and move on. It does not mean never getting justice. It does not mean sweeping anything under the rug. It does not mean denying any of the things that happened. It does not mean remaining in a place where I am at risk of any sort of damage, even emotionally. And if I choose one day to seek justice, it doesn’t mean I am wrong in doing so.
Its rare for me to use my personal situation in such an example. I know this. But when so many people have suffered deeply personal abuse in situations similar to mine, its unfair to not use it as an example.
I have a mixed relationship with spirituality these days. I call myself post-Christian, because I’m so good with Jesus but I’m so not okay (for the most part) with church. But this is what I know: Jesus would not want the church to be a place of abuse and mistreatment, where the vulnerable are further disempowered and their need for justice and healing disregarded or even sabotaged. Jesus wouldn’t weaponise the word forgiveness. Neither should we. And if we can’t do away with even the slightest tendency to put pressure on victims to forgive unrepentant perpetrators, then we shouldn’t use the word at all. When Jesus offers us forgiveness if we repent, then its bad logic to think the same conditions don’t apply when we are called upon to decide.
Just some thoughts on a contentious topic.
You may now hit me with your hate mail. I’ll either forgive you if you ask nicely, or make fun of you at driveway drinks with my friends. It’s completely up to me.
As for the rest of you, I hope you get some context, relief and validation from this.
Peace
Kit K.
P.S. If you happen to go to a church that supports vulnerable people, has clear lines of accountability, transparency around protocols for reporting grievances and keeping people safe, and stands up for marginalised or traumatised people - I like that church. Just saying.
Abuse, Cover Up’s, and Sex Scandals - Church, We Have a Problem.
This past week, a few people slid into my DM’s with the same headline. Brian Houston, the man who heads the Hillsong Empire, is up on charges for covering up sexual abuse of minors. Yes, plural. He claims innocence, of course, and the long arm of the law must wait until he returns from Mexico (!!!) to take the next steps in the two year investigation. Houston famously fired his own dad after it came out that Houston Snr. (Frank) had abused minors. Did Brian Houston remove his dad from the staff? Yes. Did he make organisational changes? Allegedly, yes. But did he go to the police with the information he had and was obligated to report, thus allowing the system to process the charges and take reasonable steps to prevent future abuse? Apparently not. This knowledge doesn’t rock me. It doesn’t even surprise me. If there is an emotion anywhere near surprise, it is my anger and disappointment that it has become so unexceptional. To place doctrine, ambition or empire over person. To do exactly what Jesus would not do.
This from the people who instruct us in the ways of selflessness and Christ-likeness, who we take as moral standard bearers over our lives. Yet, in this moment when justice comes knocking for Houston Jnr, will the Church collectively answer the clarion call to stand on the side of justice, truth, and lawful living let alone compassion and advocating for the vulnerable? I doubt it very much.
As we know, Hillsong’s followers and attendees number in the millions. Across the world, there are numerous “campuses” as they are now called. Last year, we saw another Hillsong scalp fall as Carl Lentz got outed for cheating on his wife. It happened in a year when Ravi Zacharias, the legendary apologist, died and with that took to the grave any possibility of justice for his alleged abuse victims (who I absolutely believe, for the record). It has been reported that Zacharias regularly exaggerated his academic achievements, and that there are multiple sexual misconduct victims.
Then there’s Jerry and Becki Falwell, the couple at the head of the conservative Christian College, Liberty University in Virginia. They were outed as having some sexual practices that certainly wouldn’t fit within the doctrines they publicly espoused. (I.e. One of them would trawl the university for young men for Becki to sleep with while Jerry watched on. It’s called cuckholding. If that’s your thing. Fine. Just don’t shame girls for their spaghetti strap cami’s or loss of virginity while you watch your wife doing the the pool boy. Hypocrite. That’s before you delve into the issues around power distance between a sexual predator and their prey).
The Falwell issue was creepy at best, predatory at worst, and when you throw in their the fact that it was Falwell’s recommendation that went a long way to putting Trump on the American throne for four ill-fated years, ousting Ted Cruz as the conservative anointed one, it gets creepier. It is rumoured Trump hooked the Falwell’s up with his lawyer. A cover up in return for a favour, perhaps? But the pool boy talked (Here’s the scoop on that one: The Rollingstone with some more salacious pieces of wow for you).
There’s a joke in there about the wrong type of preying/praying, but its entirely the wrong time for jokes.
You could be fooled for thinking that these people were anomalies. That there was just too much at stake for these Christian leaders to operate by the moral standing required of them as they headed up these large churches or Christian institutions. Does the end justify the means if you are weighing the life of a handful of abuse victims versus the millions of followers worldwide? The answer should be obvious here: no! In the parable of the lost sheep, the good shepherd leaves the flock of 99 to care for the one that was lost. As groups like the Australian Christian Lobby parade around, crying foul over the Church’s loss of privilege as the institution that was somehow a standard bearer for morality and goodness, this is what we are weighing it against - People like Brian Houston who is famously pals with Prime Minister Scott Morrison, and who is off preaching in Mexico while a two year investigation draws its conclusions that there is enough evidence to charge him for his handling of his fathers abuse of minors.
You could be forgiven for thinking that somehow the sheer size of Hillsong would make it harder for Brian Houston to do the right thing. Perhaps that he is the anomaly, or that riches and influence somehow made it too hard to stand up for truth without compromising the work of the ministry globally.
But there are three problems with that logic: 1) its horse shit, 2) its diametrically opposed to the energy of the gospel, and 3), perhaps most importantly, its not just the bigwigs.
My suspicion, and my lived experience as an Evangelical survivor and as a podcaster/blogger who moves in exvangelical spheres, is that the issue of abuse and its mishandling permeates right through institutionalised religion. These people are supposed to represent Jesus - the model for compassion, justice and self-sacrifice. And yet they do it so very poorly. It would be laughable if it weren’t so darn tragic.
Roughly a year and a half ago, I sat in a courthouse waiting room with the mother of an alleged abuse victim (alleged - because the case is still before the courts at the time of writing. But I 100% believe and support the victim). We waited for the accused to turn up for his hearing. He was a pastors son. (Still is). He never showed. The victim’s mother had shepherded her priceless, vulnerable child through treacherous years, having disclosed the abuse to the pastor almost a decade prior and then weathering all sorts of personal hell as the crime was kept quiet and covered up (allegedly, again I'm using the word even though I 100% believe the victim and their mother). She approached police, who were rightly concerned about the vulnerability of the victim when it came to the timing of pursuing charges. But this day, she had raised every ounce of Mamma bear strength she had, and sat at the court house waiting to face them - both the accused and his pastor-parents. But the accused never showed. No one did.
I later heard (via second hand sources, admittedly) that there was a prayer meeting across town. It was supposedly a special prayer meeting called as “the church was under attack.” If true, then I can only guess where the accused was. And I can only guess what “the attack” was.
Lady Justice was at the ready, scales in hand.
Here is the case in point: Brian Houston has millions of excuses, irrelevant excuses, to potentially cloud his judgement when it comes to reporting the crimes. Count them in attendees, or count them in dollars - whatever balances your scales - but nothing stands up to me and thousands of others who demand that churches, you know, represent a loving God. But what about the abovementioned micro-church pastor? Well at this point I would estimate his church attendance to be well under 50. Does he have the same money or power to justify covering up the (alleged) abuse?
I think not. And yet…
It’s not just the bigwigs that that seem to think that the call of the their god, whatever that god may be, is bigger than the call of justice. This is an opinion piece. Let’s state that loud and proud. I blame two major factors for this gross miscarriage of justice. 1) Dominionism, and 2) Power. Let’s take the latter first.
I once saw a movie, and for the life of me I can’t remember what it was, but there was a line that struck me so hard the rest of the movie became irrelevant. The quote was this: “One of the greatest myths in the world is that power is innocent.”
We would so like to think that church leaders are immune to the corrupting influence of power. But with the growth of influence comes the growth of ego. Therefore, humility is less of a trait and more of a discipline, and it is my suspicion that too few people in power understand this. Still fewer church pastors, regardless of the size of their congregation, adequately discern the depth of their power/influence over their congregants. They do exist, I’m sure of it! I’ve met maybe a small handful for whom I know this to be true. But what of the others, however innumerable they may be?
I once did an interview with Mike Phillips who aptly pointed out that, as soon as there is money, hierarchy or power involved in a community, there is the opportunity for that to become corrupted. It was a damn good point. Influence is just another word for power, let’s be honest. I have witnessed, time after time, that the damage caused to a victim within a church system can regularly fall far down the priority list when it involves exposing the ways in which people in positions of power have behaved badly or covered up the actions of those who did.
Even when it involves grievous harm.
So what if a church of a million closes because the pastor was found to be covering up child abuse? So what if that pastor is friends with the prime minister? If we think that the means justify the end, if we think that our empires and our money and our political influence is more important than a child who faced insufferable abuse at the hands of anyone within our leadership ranks, we are thoroughly and biblically wrong. Jesus said “let the little children come to me. Forbid them not for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.”
But what do we do when we tell a child that their innocence, their damage, is less important than God’s man or God’s plan? We are the stumbling block in their way. We are a giant, cosmic “fuck you” representative of God himself.
This isn’t true for just the original victim. It is true for the mothers and fathers who advocated for that child. For the siblings who knew the secret. For the relationships and friendships throughout the course of that childs life who are privy to the damage and hold the hands of the victim as they weather the tough terrain of recovery. To them, the question is obvious: “Where is God in all of this?” And the picture we give them time and time again is that he is there, behind the Frank Houston’s of the world, and that the Brian Houston’s of the world are there to play armour bearer and get in the way of justice. It is here in these moments, that Jesus, who came to model radical, sacrificial love and inclusivity, to stand up for justice, overthrow corruption, and model the law of love, is completely absent from the Institutions of Church. In fact, Church more clearly resembles the pharisees and sadducees of the scripture who Jesus railed against, and who railed against him.
Did I just call Brian Houston, and any church leader who values power, money or influence over the plight of the vulnerable or covers up abuse within their ranks, a Pharisee? Yes. I did.
But where did we get the idea in the first place that there was a call so great, so lofty, that it was our mandate, and not serving the vulnerable, marginalised or at risk? Thats the second problem: Dominionism.
I’m going to go ahead and say it: this is the most problematic doctrine in churches today. It’s a big call to make but I stand behind it. Dominionism is unbiblical. It sounds nice, because it tells us that power and dominion is our birthright as Christians; that we are somehow spiritual spies with a heavenly mandate to infiltrate and take over the halls of power, whether they be business, politics, family, spirituality, education, entertainment or health. That God intended for the world to fall in line while we ascend to power. Tempting, isn’t it, to believe that saying the magic words (the sinners prayer) automatically entitles you to riches, power and influence.
I’ve written on Dominionism before, and I’ll link you at the end of this article. Dominionism is believed by its adherents to be Biblical. But when you delve into it, it is nothing more than a heresy - an unbiblical idea that appeals to some because it rubber stamps their desires for societal ascension. Politics is where dominionism is most obvious - we saw it in Trump pandering to the Republicans and locking up the Conversative vote. We saw it at the end of his presidency when his followers blindly proclaimed false prophesies about his second term, and we saw it in the Capital under seige on January 6. This was not a kingdom based on righteousness, peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost (the definition given in Romans 14:17). This was a kingdom built on ego, and its fruits were violence and lawlessness. Yet the good Christian conscience of many of these conservative followers was absent. Dominionism had replaced discernment, and Donald “Grab ‘em by the pussy Trump” was now their banner. His multiple divorces now overlooked (an aberration not to little old me, but to many of these church leaders who abandoned their own doctrines to support the man). The sexual assault allegations against him now silenced. To raise these abuses would be to speak against God’s anointed, as they like to say.
Of course, not all American Christians. Of course - I say by way of disclaimer. This topic tends to get my blood a little warm to say the least.
The problem runs deep. Deep enough for many many blog pieces to cover it. But it doesn’t just apply to billionaires or church leaders with millions of followers. It also applies to small church leaders, even micro church leaders, who think the end justifies the means or who believe that their great and lofty call is more important than the child who discloses that a church leader did something to do them.
If the church can only reach its goals by silencing its victims, then the institution is lost. It is not representative of Jesus. It is not representative of any of the values it claims to espouse. Jesus told us, in the New Testament about the law of love. If we look on the global scale as churches fail to protect their victims, we have to mark this with a gigantic fail. So if we can’t measure up to Jesus one commandment, then maybe we should go back to the Ten Commandments:
I am the Lord your God, you shall have no gods before me. (Okay then…how about power? Can I worship power or riches before You? FAIL)
Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord in vain. (Oh, do you mean using the name of the Lord to justify things that the Lord would absolutely not justify? FAIL)
Remember to keep the Lords Day Holy. (Well first of all the sabbath is a Saturday, so for the majority - FAIL)
Honour your father and your mother (Okay. Maybe this one is okay, for the churches who don’t split families apart in the name of “restoration” or “spiritual fathering”)
Thou shalt not kill (Gosh, I hope we don’t fail this one! But do you count it when people suffer abuse at church and then lose their lives to suicide? FAIL)
Thou shalt not commit adultery (I’m looking at you Carl Lentz, and the Falwell’s. Fail)
Thou shalt not steal. (Do you mean stealing a child’s innocence? Does that count? FAIL)
Thou shalt not bear false witness. (OOOOh burn. FAIL)
Thou shalt not covet your neighbours wife. (Lol. Sorry Carl Lentz. You bombed twice in one scripture passage)
Thou shalt not covet your neighbours goods. (Okay, even I’m bombing here, because my neighbour has some cool stuff.)
How did we rate? 1-2 out of 10?
Let’s refer back to the big man, shall we? If Jesus became “obedient to the point of death, even death on the cross,” can’t you report crimes against children and vulnerable people? If Jesus said “Let the children to come unto me, and forbid them not, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven,” should we be making these children suffer and bear wounds from which their recovery will be long and gruelling if possible at all?
The point I’m making is this: the Church is now being disabused of the idea that it is above the law, or even that it is an example of anything to society. The Royal Commission into Institutional Abuse (in Australia) was a damning mirror held up to our faces, and yet we refused to take a good hard look. Here we are, years later, and the secular world is leading the charge when it comes to all matters pertaining to protecting and advocating for the vulnerable, and demanding truth and transparency from organisations. And the people who seem to be kicking the most against this progress seem to be found in churches. Or in Mexico. Or attempting to wield political influence so they can continue on their merry, unscrutinised way.
Is all lost? Can the church be rescued? Only if it is willing to look in that mirror, long and hard, and completely rebuild it’s structures from the ground up - to humble itself to the point of death, even death on the cross. Can miracles happen, yes. Do good churches exist, yes. Have I experienced some of these good churches? Yes, I think so. Do I still take a dim view of the system worldwide? heck yes.
Do better church. You won’t find me supporting Brian Houston, or any other pastor against whom an allegation has been raised. You’ll find me on the side of the victim who had to gather every shred of strength and self-belief to stand up and report what happened to them, only to be smacked down and silenced. Because generally speaking where there is one such allegation, there is bound to be more.
I hope I am proven wrong. I just don’t think I will be.
xo
Kit K - who has a bee in her bonnet today.
And the Links Bebe:
Is there a Biblical Basis for Dominionism?
Why I’m Not a Dominionism Anymore
Dominionism in the era of Trump and ScoMo, the 2019 Edition