In his prophet's call to repentance in Matthew and Luke, John the Baptist warns those who have been drawn to his revival not to place their hope in their ancestral connection to Abraham, for "God is able from the stones to raise up children to Abraham." (Mt. 3:9)
I thought of that warning as I read an article by Mark Lilla in the New York Times Magazine (September 18, 2005) called "Getting Religion, My long-lost years as a teenage evangelical." This University of Chicago professor tells of his awakening to the Scriptures through one of the small groups that proliferated in the "Jesus Freak" movement of the 1970s, and of his eventual fall out of faith. He grew up Roman Catholic in a monotonous blue collar Detroit suburb, and at age 13 he decided he was an atheist. A year later he attended a Christian rock concert and on the way out was given a colloquial translation of the New Testament, which he sat up all night reading. That New Testament opened his mind to a new world. Immersion in that New Testament also began the transformation of his intellect.
I am thankful for the work of the Peace, Unity and Purity Task Force, for modeling a way of speaking the truth in love to one another and to the church, even if there is no clear "prescription". Patience, forbearance, and faithful engagement are marks of the church that are easily overlooked in a results-oriented society. Affinity groups have also been tackling the presenting issues of the day for decades, especially the issue of ordination standards. However, I have come to realize that the options for renewal we have currently are not enough.
In the post-modern age, we have come to the end of Enlightenment rationalism with new paradigms for thinking emerging. As children of the Reformation, we are still too deeply rooted in Athens. The birth of Protestantism occurred, of course, when the Roman Church, very much under the influence of Thomas Aquinas (who borrowed heavily from Aristotle), was countered by Luther and Calvin, both influenced significantly by Augustine, a neo-Platonist. That the Western church is influenced by Plato/Aristotle is not any more noteworthy than that the Eastern (East Asian) church is influenced by Confucius/Lao Tzu. But in the church in America, I am convinced that our Platonic dualism has led to a national bipolar disorder.
The Readings: Psalm 5:1-12; Isa. 59:1-15; Rom. 6:3-4
Today I want to lift up a biblical theme that has not received the attention it deserves. It is the powerful theme that violence finds refuge in falsehood. I myself first became aware of it through Alexander Solzhenitsyn, the great Russian novelist. In accepting the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1972, Solzhenitsyn included these words:
Violence, less and less embarrassed by the limits imposed by centuries of lawfulness, is brazenly and victoriously striding across the whole world, unconcerned that its infertility has been demonstrated and proved many times in history. What is more, it is not simply crude power that triumphs abroad, but its exultant justification. The world is being inundated by the brazen conviction that power can do anything, justice nothing. ...
But let us not forget that violence does not live alone and is not capable of living alone: it is necessarily interwoven with falsehood. Between them lies the most intimate, the deepest of natural bonds Violence finds its only refuge in falsehood, falsehood its only support in violence. Any man who has once acclaimed violence as his METHOD must inexorably choose falsehood as his PRINCIPLE. At its birth violence acts openly and even with pride. But no sooner does it become strong, firmly established, than it senses the rarefaction of the air around it and it cannot continue to exist without descending into a fog of lies, clothing them in sweet talk. It does not always, not necessarily, openly throttle the throat, more often it demands from its subjects only an oath of allegiance to falsehood, only complicity in falsehood.
This connection was undoubtedly one that Solzhenitsyn learned to make from bitter experience. But since he is a Christian, he would also have learned it from Holy Scripture. Today we saw it ourselves in Psalm 5: You destroy those who speak lies; the Lord abhors the bloodthirsty and deceitful. ... For there is no truth in their mouths; their hearts are destruction; their throats are open graves; they flatter with their tongues. (Psalm 5:6, 9).
I heard the story of a particular presbytery meeting hot on the heels of four glorious September days in "graduation exercises" with the second Cohort of the Company of New Pastors. (The Company of New Pastors -- formerly Excellence from the Start -- is the Lilly Endowment program out of Theology and Worship that involves pairs of Pastors mentoring new seminary graduates who are in their first called positions.)
The four days were a "debriefing" on more than three years of semi-annual meetings for worship and study, reading books related to ministry and delivering papers in our small groups. The assumption is that community is formed and mutual professional support occurs -- not out of therapy or skill development -- but when it is grounded in theological reflection on the practice of ministry. At "graduation" we were privileged also to reflect with Eugene Peterson, author and pastor, on the life and work of a pastor.
Text: II Corinthians 4:8-9; Romans 8:28-39
Editor's Note: the following eyewitness report to Presbyterian constituents in Mississippi helps all of us understand better the challenges and ongoing needs of the Gulf Coast. See elsewhere on this Web site for information on how to contact Presbyterian Disaster Assistance and support New Orleans-Gulf Coast recovery efforts.
Beleaguered but unvanquished--two of William Faulkner's favorite words. They describe the people of God who are called according to His purpose; people like you who have risen to the occasion, to bring light to the darkness, hope in the midst of despair, food to the hungry, drink to the thirsty, clothing to those who only have the clothes they're wearing, encouragement to those who have lost it all.
Editor's note: The following homily was preached at the funeral of the Reverend George McMaster at Druid Hills Church in Atlanta, Ga., by Dr. Patrick D. Miller, Professor of Old Testament at Princeton Theological Seminary. It contains great comfort for the church and is a welcome testimony to the gospel in these troubled, dangerous times.
Not long ago, when Mary Ann and I were visiting with her mother, she asked me what I thought about heaven. I was taken aback at the time because my mind was, as usual, on more mundane things. I don't recall what response I made at the time, except that it was not very helpful. But the question was a serious one from this 90-year-old woman whose husband had died some years before. It has stuck with me ever since and in these few minutes I would like to take it up again with a bit more reflection.
Heaven really has two connotations in Christian faith. One is spatial -- up there -- and one is temporal -- beyond death. In the first instance, heaven is a symbol for God's reality and God's rule. It is a pointer to transcendence, to the fact that what we mean by God is one who is above and beyond all that we are even if among us.
Heaven is a biblical and Christian way of speaking about the abode of God. Some of you are old enough to remember when the Russian premier Nikita Khrushchev scoffed at the notion of God and heaven when he noted that the Russian astronauts had not seen God or heaven when they went into space. His mockery reflects a widespread tendency to literalize the notion of heaven, when in fact it is a symbol and not a literal reality, at least as described in the Bible. As a symbol, however, it points to something real, but something we can only think of in images and pictures because it is beyond us, and we do not have direct experience of it.
The Book of Order is a compendium of Presbyterian experience based on nearly three hundred years of practice, prayer and study of Scripture. Occasionally church officers get the mistaken opinion that it is a static document, forever fixed by someone in the presbytery or General Assembly.
Last week in New Orleans ... nobody took control. ... The rich escaped while the poor were abandoned. ... Partisans squabbled while the nation was ashamed. The first rule of the social fabric -- that in times of crisis you protect the vulnerable -- was trampled.
I have pondered these words by David Brooks on the Sunday (9/4) New York Times Op-Ed page almost relentlessly. After 23 years as pastor of a downtown church, I know the names of Richmond's vulnerable too well for comfort. Our congregation, together with more than 100 churches and synagogues in the city, has ministered to them, sometimes with opposition from the city and the powerful. We have served them lunches, listened to their woes, celebrated their joys, seen the plight of their circumstances in adult homes, and directed them to medical care or emergency assistance. We have preached their funerals. We have sheltered them and visited them, and with many agencies, have tried to keep them from homelessness. Their faces are the faces of those multitudes abandoned by the authorities in New Orleans.
It was easy to feel sorry for them. The poor, displaced, battered citizens of New Orleans confronted us with the disparity of economic life in America.
But as the days turned to weeks, another subtext began to surface, showing an even greater disparity. A surprising number of the poor were, in fact, rich in spirit. Despite having little, they showed an enormous depth of spiritual understanding and a remarkable display of extravagant faith.
An elderly woman, finally pulled from her house after days of waiting, seemed surprisingly peaceful as television crews filmed her rescue. When a reporter asked if she was glad the rescuers had finally arrived she said, "Yes, I'm glad to see them. But I had the Lord with me whether anyone else showed up or not."
Unlike many of us whose wealth obscures our spiritual sight, this woman gave contemporary meaning to the Bible verse written by the Apostle Paul: "I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want." (Philippians 4:12)
I rattled a few cages when I questioned those in non-parish settings who do not regularly preach and celebrate the sacraments, which is the primary function of Reformed pastors--not editing a magazine, not heading a non-profit, not pastoral counseling, valuable as those things are to the life of humankind and the church. But preaching, teaching, celebrating the sacraments, and pastoral care in a congregational setting are what build up the church, and empower it to witness to the kingdom of Christ. This is a classic -- not just a Reformed -- no-brainer since the church does not exist or thrive without book, water, and table.
A call to ministry is nourished in the soil of the church. There we learn that the vocation of all Christians is to serve the Lord in daily life -- whether at home or in the law firm, as social worker, police officer, doctor or CEO, or some patched - together combination of hearthside and curbside activities to sustain self and family. Disciples of Jesus are expected to ask what God wants from them -- not as customers, shoppers, consumers, or those to be entertained -- but as persons called to reflect the glory of God.
A few weeks ago, after Pittsburgh Seminary had announced that I would be its next President, the editor of The Presbyterian Outlook asked me, "Bill, why are you leaving the parish to return to the academy?" The short answer might be "the three great things about academia: June, July and August!", but real scholars know better. It never really slows down that much in the summer months with all the Hebrew and Greek courses, and all the continuing education events. Administrators and staff especially plow right on. Faculty members put the finishing touches on those tomes they have been trying to write all year.
Still, the editor's question hung in the air waiting to be answered.
Actually, there were two parts to the question: (a) Why are you leaving the church for the school and (b) What should the school be doing for the church these days?
Excerpts from an address at the Louisville Seminary Luncheon, 216th General Assembly, Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.) in Richmond, Va, June 30, 2004 and published in the fall 2004 issue of The Mosaic of Louisville Presbyterian Theological Seminary.
For more than 150 years, this precious schoolhouse of the church has specialized in training good pastors for the church -- good pastors who have been called to live and hope as expectant servants of Christ and stewards of the mysteries of God. ... Reverently and expectantly, I want our first conversation as family to focus on a vision about the good pastors we hope to continue to train in our community of the Word at Louisville Seminary.
First, I believe the good pastor is a passionate/compassionate believer of the Christian gospel. Our people in the pews long for pastors who passionately/ compassionately believe what they preach and teach. Indeed, from a parishioner's viewpoint, one of the most priceless affirmations a preacher can receive is: "I can tell you really believe what you preach." That is, our congregations deeply yearn to call good pastors who will articulate with passion the belief that Jesus Christ is incomparably the most significant event in the history of the human race; that Jesus is God's own heart of flesh who crawled into the cradle of Bethlehem and who climbed onto the cross of Golgotha; that Jesus, in the words of Joseph Sittler, "comes to us in the world where we are, where we have been, and where we are going...."; that Jesus is the risen Lord and Savior of all times and all places; that to know God now in Jesus Christ is to know God forever.
I was sitting in my office in mid-May, writing thank you letters to donors, when the phone rang.
"This is Jordana Hochman from Morning Edition. I was referred to you by the Association of Theological Schools."
"Well, what can I do for you?"
"I have a question. Depending on your answer, I may want to interview you."
"So?"
The essence of her question: "Well, since the mainstream churches are dying--declining, at least-- and not hiring new clergy, what are your graduates going to do?"
"First, our graduates will do what they have always done--the great majority will go and serve and lead as pastors, educators, and scholars for local churches, many of which by the way are thriving. God's Word and God's work are being faithfully proclaimed and engaged, just as in every generation since the resurrection of Jesus."
"Is there a disconnect between congregations and seminaries? Isn't your enrollment declining?" she asked.
"No. On both counts. Our faculty members are all deeply involved in local church life. Members of the faculty ordained as pastors who have joined us since 1994 when I arrived have an average of nine years of experience leading local congregations. That is more experience on average than when I was a student here in the mid-sixties!
"We will have 104 degrees received--that's more than average for the last score of years at least. I understand several of our partner seminaries in the Presbyterian Church have increased enrollments and graduations now, too."
I proceeded to tell her about some of the recent graduates and some of the congregations they serve. I spoke of the heavy requirements in this and many other Presbyterian seminaries--both Hebrew and Greek language, lots of Bible, theology, history, ethics, worship, mission, and focus on skills for ministry such as teaching, evangelism, leading worship, and giving pastoral care.
The Presbyterian Outlook congratulates the following 2005 Presbyterian seminary graduates listed by school, degree issued and any awards presented during commencement.
The seminaries and their constituent congregations enjoy a deep and abiding relationship within the ethos of American Presbyterianism. In fact, in a time when much of our denominational ecosystem is under some degree of stress and decline, it is my observation that the seminaries and the great majority of our Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.) congregations remain its healthiest components.
With respect to our ten PC(USA) seminaries, I have already had ample opportunity in my three years of serving as a seminary president to get a good look at the complexion of theological education in North America, and I believe they are without peer. They represent the gold standard when it comes to the quality of education, the quality of faculty, the quality of clergy being sent out into the church, the value base still alive in our denomination for the stewardship of the mind, and their sheer institutional strength and stability.
It is also interesting to me, in terms of the relationship our seminaries have to the church, that over the last decade, when Presbyterian seminaries have chosen presidents, they have overwhelmingly chosen pastors and not academicians--persons who, even if they have a Ph.D., are coming straight from the parish where they have spent most of their ministry. That is a profound statement, I believe, that at a deep level the church and the seminary want to be in still closer conversation.
And maybe it's about time, the church and the seminary may be saying to one another. From the church's perspective, there is this sense--not always justifiable, in my humble opinion--that the seminaries are out of touch with the life of the church; that their faculties are not sufficiently engaged in the on-the-ground life of the church; and that the questions we pursue in seminary are not necessarily the questions that most concern the church.
What is the meaning of Reformed theological education for the life of the Presbyterian Church in these days of extreme diversity and conflict?"
These days, pastors and faithful disciples in the pews are wondering if the Presbyterian Church can hold together amidst all the tossing and turning. Some wonder why we don't just call a meeting, hire a good lawyer, get a divorce, split up the property, and move on. Seminary students wonder if there will be a church to serve after they graduate. We know it wouldn't be the first time the Church has divided, though concord after these divisions has lasted for only a short time. And we know from our constitution that Visible oneness, by which a diversity of persons, gifts, and understandings is brought together, is an important sign of the unity of God's people. It is also a means by which that unity is achieved. (Book of Order, G-4.0203).
In these days of extreme diversity and conflict, as we seek the peace, unity, and purity of the church, it seems as if we are walking a tight wire. The question becomes, "How shall we maintain our balance?" That's a question for Reformed theological education.
Herzliebster Jesu 11.11.11.5 ("Ah, Holy Jesus")
God of creation, We have seen the horror--
Great devastation, Overwhelming sorrow!
Hear now your people-- Homes and loved ones taken--
Feeling forsaken.
Christ of compassion, You who calmed the rough sea--
Hurricane crashing, We prayed for your mercy!
Comfort your people! Hold them close, now giving
Hope for their living.
Give to your children Food to end their hunger,
Clean water's blessing, News of those they long for!
And by your Spirit, Use our gifts and labors
To help our neighbors.
Biblical references: Genesis 1, Psalm 13, Matthew 8:23-27, 25:31-46; Luke 10:25-37
Tune: Johann Cruger, 1640
Text: Copyright © 2005 by Carolyn Winfrey Gillette. All rights reserved.
Carolyn Winfrey Gillette gives permission for the hymn's free use by churches that support the relief efforts of Presbyterian Disaster Assistance. Carolyn Winfrey Gillette and Bruce Gillette are pastors at Limestone Church in Wilmington, Del.
In 1984, along with twenty other people, I was appointed by J. Randolph Taylor, Moderator of the recently reunited Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.), to serve on the committee that drafted the Brief Statement of Faith as directed by the Plan of Reunion. Our experience together over the next five years mirrors in many ways that of the Task Force on Peace, Unity, and Purity. One of the chief reasons is that members of both groups were appointed to serve because they were representative of the diverse theological points of view and backgrounds reflected in the membership of the PCUSA.
One of my most vivid memories from that important time in the life of the church has to do with an informal conversation another committee member and I had one summer day during General Assembly week. As we stood chatting in the corridor of the vast Convention Center, a number of people came up to speak to my friend, who was and still is strongly identified with the conservative, evangelical wing of the denomination. I, on the other hand, have usually been identified with the more liberal part of the church. He graciously introduced me to them all. "My goodness," I finally said. "What is going on with all these people?" They had been very gracious to me, but I had never met any of them before.
He answered, "They want to meet you. My friends are always asking me what you really believe."
"What do you tell them?" I asked.
"I tell them that you love Jesus just as much as they do."
The final report of the Task Force on the Peace, Unity, and Purity of the Church contains few surprises. The recommendations flow effortlessly out of the theological prologue that has been strengthened in its final draft. I do not mean that the recommendations were effortlessly achieved. I suspect they required negotiation and prayer, patience and longsuffering. But they demonstrate the same love for the church that characterize the prologue -- and for that, all Presbyterians may give thanks.
Faithful Presbyterians will profoundly disagree about some of them (see guest viewpoints in this issue). What is remarkable is that the same disagreements are incarnate within the Task Force itself, and yet they, after meeting for these past years, have invited the church to work for a more profound unity than we now know. The Task Force has given us the means to walk the walk that they have walked, and to stop tearing down rather than building up the Body of Christ, Presbyterian. They offer an "opportunity of discovering ways that the church can live more faithfully in the face of deep disagreements." And even in disagreement, they were able "to discern in their life together the outlines of Christian identity to which, we fervently believe, the church is called."
The report belies a theological orthodoxy and constitutional integrity that the church sorely needs to begin a renewed quest for genuine unity. It is from that foundation that we are asked -- not so much to eschew politics -- as to speak theologically and personally with our opponents for the sake of the church. Some presbyteries and sessions and congregations have already begun such mutual engagement. Governing bodies where minds are made up will need to reach out to those with whom they disagree if the process is to succeed. We are being called to personal responsibility, especially those of us who are elders, deacons, and ministers of Word and Sacrament.
I am impressed by the report of the Theological Task Force on the Peace, Unity and Purity of the Church. Despite critique that I offer below, the care and thoughtfulness of its theology, the honesty and earnestness of its tone, the pastoral wisdom and balance of its approach, as well as the insight and reflection of its ecclesiology make strongly positive contributions. One does not need to agree with all its points to find in this report a great deal that is constructive and up-building to the body of Christ. It is a rich resource with content that seems judicious and affirming, instructive and fruitful. "The Task Force was not asked to resolve all the controversial issues in the church or to relieve the church of all conflict. The Task Force was asked to help the church deal with current and future conflicts more faithfully." I believe that at points they have given us some important help. Though a more detailed reflection on the report would take far more space and time than is allowed here, I will venture a few initial personal responses, following the order of the document itself.
I am grateful for the Theological Basis. The apparent consensus around an orthodox trinitarianism is its primary strength, and points to the central hope for any true "peace, unity, and purity" in our individual or common life. This is not to be taken for granted and is indispensable for our future, not least its affirmation of the uniqueness of Jesus Christ. Alongside all that is laudatory, unifying, and valuable in this section, two closely related points seemed especially lacking adequate development. First, I would have expected to find a more developed reflection on what it means that human beings are creatures made in God's image. Surely, it is true we are loved. But who is the "us" that God loves? The nature of our humanity, God's intentional relationship to us and purpose for us in love informs our lives and our biblical grasp of what our humanness means. Since our createdness grounds our ethics in meaning and purpose beyond mere naturalism, I wish this had been given more emphasis.
Is it time for a survey of the language of Presbyterian Christian Education?
I appreciate the conversation begun by Ben Sparks and pursued by Marge Shaw about the need to rediscover Christian education in our churches. It is not the first time in recent years that someone has asked, "Where has our denomination's historic emphasis on Christian education gone?"
As I look and listen for signs of a vital commitment to Christian education in our churches and the larger church, I am engaging in some interesting conversations. People in our churches and in the church are excited about a number of initiatives that sound a lot like Christian education to me, but when I ask about the difference, I am assured that they are talking about "more than Christian education." So what is going on here? What may be going on is that rather than losing our commitment to Christian education, we are now talking about it in different ways.
Sixty years ago in the blink of an eye an estimated 147,000 people were killed when atom bombs exploded over Hiroshima and Nagasaki, Japan. Beautiful cities were instantly turned into radioactive wastelands.
As is true in all wars most of the victims were women, children and the elderly. Those near the epicenter were the lucky ones. They were vaporized. Tens of thousands further from ground zero were burned alive, dying in excruciating pain and begging for water. Thousands more died in later months and years of a strange disease called radiation, and even today higher rates of cancer and leukemia prevail in the region. Survivors of the blasts, now in their seventies and eighties, carry monumental physical and psychological scars.
This August, on a peace pilgrimage, I returned to Japan, where I spent nine years (1965-1974) as a missionary. I attended the 60th anniversaries of two bombs that in the words of Einstein "... changed everything except the way we think, and we drift toward unparalleled catastrophes."
When you read this, the final reports of the Task Force on the Peace, Unity, and Purity of the church will have been published. The PC(USA) has invested itself in this four year process, not because what it recommends will solve our problems re:scriptural authority and ordination, but in hope that a way forward will emerge from the battles ravaging the reunited church for at least two decades.
To anticipate the report, I remembered a sermon on Jesus' Parable of the Weeds in Matthew 13, the 16th Sunday in Ordinary Time. There is nothing ordinary about this parable, which speaks to the problem of evil -- not as out there to be restrained by the forces of righteousness in a weed-free church. Instead, the parable invites us to decide how we will deal with the weeds. The good farmer sowed wheat in his field. While he and his servants were sleeping an enemy came and sowed weeds. When the servants discovered it, they asked the landowner how it could have happened, and he replied, "An enemy has done this."
Readers of the OUTLOOK are familiar with the heated public controversy over the use of human embryos to harvest stem cells for medical research. What are called embryos are actually ova fertilized in a Petri dish. The zygotes are forced to undergo cell division, frozen and stored on a shelf for possible use later, usually for fertility treatment-- but never implanted in a human uterus. For that reason they are not really embryos, technically speaking. The point of interest is that they are currently the best source of "pluripotent stem cells," meaning cells that have the capacity to become any type of cell in the body when properly treated. These cells are needed to develop effective treatments for diseases that already include Alzheimer's, Parkinson's, juvenile diabetes, muscular dystrophy, and paralysis resulting from spinal cord injury.
The sticking point for those who object, including President George W. Bush, is that they believe these fertilized eggs possess the value of human beings and the process of extracting stem cells from them kills human life. Many scientists, on the other hand, have a hard time imagining how a still undifferentiated zygote that will never be implanted in a uterus qualifies as a human being. An estimated 400,000 fertilized ova or embryos are stored in U.S. freezers today, and most of them will be discarded.
Stem cell research is rapidly advancing in many other countries, notably the United Kingdom and South Korea, and in private U.S. labs that do not receive federal funding. Ironically, one of the effects of the Bush administration's ban on embryonic stem cell research funding is that the research is now barreling on outside the ethical guidelines established early in the game by the National Institutes of Health and approved by the Clinton administration. Those guidelines made it clear that only embryos could be used that were created for the purpose of fertility treatment and were in excess of clinical need. When stem cell research is removed from NIH oversight into the private sector, such ethical restrictions are not obligatory.
Last week I was overcome with rage and shame at the pitiful responses to the onset of hurricane Katrina and its watery aftermath. I was ashamed at the helplessness of the government of the United States. I was angry that neither the mayor of New Orleans nor the governor of Louisiana did anything initially except to criticize the federal government for its lack of response. How many lives would have been saved by the immediate response of which we showed ourselves capable after 9/11 in New York -- a disaster which we did not know was coming? The mayor and governor have power to evacuate people forcibly. The governor can order the National Guard to use whatever means necessary to stop violence, confiscate guns of looters, and protect hospitals and individual citizens. (In one hospital patients were moved to upper floors to protect them from looters who were attacking them.)
The non-response was a massive failure of legally constituted government at every level, but has its origins in decades of anti-government rhetoric, not the least of which is from those who preach Sunday after Sunday non-Christian apocalypticism. And we have paid the price, some citizens with their lives, all of us by the cheapening and denigration of human life. Where, in this pro-life administration that spent emotional and political capital on Terri Schiavo, is the outrage -- or better, the immediate deployment of law enforcement and other resources to save human lives? How many Terri Schiavos simply perished in New Orleans through lack of response? How can a president who vows to protect fertilized human eggs seem incapable (with his massive constitutional power) of protecting living human beings?
© Copyright 2026 The Presbyterian Outlook. All Rights Reserved. Privacy Statement. Website by Web Publisher PRO
