Finding God at the Library

This is a talk I gave at the Wilson Library of the Nyack College Manhattan Campus on April 17, 2008.

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Today, I want to share a little bit of where I come from, where I am, and where I think I am going. We are all on a journey, on a path, some leading to glory, some to destruction, but probably, the vast majority of us, are walking a trail of listlessness.

It’s like the Parable of the Sower. You have seed that is eaten by the birds, seed that is choked by thorns, seed that shrivels up with no root; and only one seed produces fruit in good soil. I know it’s not politically correct to say this, but according to this parable, all of us are not winners, even if we are Christians. Three out of four soils in this parable miss the mark. So that’s why I imply that many of us, at best, are on a road to mediocrity. And I can bare witness to that fact in my own life.

The good news is that we can change. The bad news is that it is hard to change. That’s why we believe in God and his supernatural power. I find hope in that idea but not always relief.

I can identify with Paul’s testimony—“I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do, I do not do, but what I hate, I do (Rom 7:15).” Ideally, I like to think of myself as the melancholic artistic type, enveloped in myself, my moods, and my depression creating expression for my angst that results from my residual flaws, pestering addictions, and obvious shortcomings. But to quote Jules from the movie Pulp Fiction, “The truth is…I'm the tyranny of evil men. But I'm tryin', Ringo. I'm tryin' real hard to be a shepherd.” Excuses are always easier than repentance.

For example, one book I read in high school was Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger. Its about this teenager Holden Caulfield who goes insane. Instead of dealing with the tribulations of life, he lets his anger about the world drive him mad. A teacher of his tells him he’s not alone. The teacher, Mr. Antolini says to Holden:

Among other things, you'll find that you're not the first person who was ever confused and frightened and even sickened by human behavior. You're by no means alone on that score, you'll be excited and stimulated to know. Many, many men have been just as troubled morally and spiritually as you are right now. Happily, some of them kept records of their troubles. You'll learn from them - if you want to. Just as someday, if you have something to offer, someone will learn something from you. It's a beautiful reciprocal arrangement. And it isn't education. It's history. It's poetry. (J.D. Salinger, The Catcher in the Rye, Chapter 24)

In my earlier days, I wrote songs, poetry, prayers, and pleas about my confused and shuttered emotions towards God, sin, and relationships. Like Holden, part of me would selfishly scream out, “That’s not fair! I’m not going to play any more…I’m going home!” Yet the world will not stop; there are no “time outs”, no “try agains”. We can either choose to move along and deal with life’s struggles or go to the asylum like Holden Caulfield.

And so the writings of others have been a redemptive respite for my wandering soul. Literature speaks to the human condition. That’s why this talk today is entitled, “Finding God at the Library.” While the book, Catcher in the Rye does not promote a biblical worldview, it does palpably echo our languishing earthly status. It is like a dagger to the heart. But how do we deal with this dagger?


My introduction to literature began when I was quite young. My first sustained reading spree was in 4th grade. I progressively read through the library’s entire section of biographies that year. I was fascinated by the lives of others. I would read three or four biographies a week on top of doing my schoolwork.

My reading progressed into writing. To truly appreciate an art form it helps to enter its thought process. I started writing for my junior high and senior high newspapers plus the high school literary journal. I continued my creative process into college, studying film at Florida State University. Throughout all of those years of school, the story form was a mirror of my soul and an outlet for my thoughts.

We often describe the Bible in similar terms. God’s word speaks to our situation in life and reflects hope because its characters are so akin to us. So human. The name “Bible” comes from the Greek word, “biblion” which means “book”. The Bible therefore is the book of all books. Yet, like every other book, the Bible was written by humans, people like you and me. The Bible never claims to have floated down from heaven. Its ideas might descend from God, but it’s written words did not. The Bible claims inspiration from God (2 Pt 1:20-21; 2 Tim 3:16).

Let me ask another question: can other literature, besides the Bible, be inspired by God as well? Can a play by Shakespeare, music by Bach, a poem by Donne, a thought by Einstein be somehow instilled with the Holy Spirit? I think possibly so. To what extent, can be argued, but I have found truth and grace whispered into my life from diverse artistic expression.

I gave an assignment this year where students watched the animated film, Prince of Egypt and compared it to the life of Moses as found in the Bible. I was amazed at how many students commented that it was an interesting film but because the screenplay changed certain details of the biblical account, it was not good and therefore against the Word of God. Personally, I find the Prince of Egypt as an overt testimony to God’s redemptive power. In the film, God is mysterious and hidden. Contrary to the biblical account, God only speaks audibly once in the film, at the burning bush. But that stylistic choice significantly emphasizes God’s immense presence throughout the whole film, as he chooses to use Moses to redeem his people.

I often find that evangelical Christians struggle with a nuanced God, a God that we cannot put inside a box. It is uncomfortable for us to see God as multifaceted, hidden, and hard to grasp. Contrary to modern evangelical rhetoric, Jesus did not come and make God “our buddy” where we can live with God like Lassie the golden retriever. Everything is not understandable and easily digested for our 21st century fast food consumption.

On one hand, our relationship with God is friendly and welcoming, but on the other hand, he is still the unknowable, the immeasurable, and the unpredictable. In order to mature, we have to accept that paradox and live with that tension.

We think we know the biblical stories, yet in our shallow, over familiarization, we can consign God to stock characteristics. “God is good”—so we paint him as a happy old man patting little children on the head and giving them candies. Yet God’s goodness is a scandal. His grace is outrageous and cause for gossip. His concern is not for the righteous but for the hardcore sinner. His love cannot be institutionalized or sanitized; it is as wild and ethereal as the wind, recklessly and liberally seeping from his side, the side of humanity.

It is a pity that we often try and duplicate the Bible in a literal, word for word fashion…in our idiomatic speech, through our pulpit sermons, on our Christian T-shirts, or upon kitschy ceramic Christian knick knacks. We try and speak for God, yet when we try and quote him out of context, it is possible to annul the scripture’s meaning, and not recognize the original purpose of a story or a teaching. We can value more the literal word rather than the spirit of inspiration.

I think it is important to release God’s spirit of inspiration within our lives. We should not stereotype God’s goodness. Instead, we should creatively access his goodness in original ways. So too, the biblical stories are an unending smorgasbord for our spiritual consumption. Let the Bible and its interpreters speak anew. Therefore, I find the Prince of Egypt’s depiction of the Exodus as a powerful demonstration of the redemptive spirit of the biblical text. The LORD saves his people through a frail human instrument called Moses. What is important in both the Bible and this film is the spirit of inspiration that reveals true characteristics of God.

So again, I ask, “can other books beside the Bible be inspired by God’s spirit?” Can they “spur us on to love and good works? (Heb 10:24)” Can God inspire someone who is not a Christian to articulate His truth? I cannot assuage this theological conundrum, but I’m sure that Balaam was a little bit shocked when his donkey spoke.

One piece of literature, I find, that speaks about that dagger—the depravity of the human condition, yet hearkens hope towards God’s redemptive plan is Victor Hugo’s Les Miserables (1862).

The Frenchman Victor Hugo lived during the 19th century, when manic France suffered from governmental multiple personality disorder. During this time, France overthrew their ancient monarchy with the bloody French Revolution and embraced a republic (1792), then soon after, empowered a military dictator, named Napoleon who established an empire (1804), then removed Napoleon and restored the original monarchy like a lover on the rebound (1814), but then remembered why they got a divorce from the monarchy years earlier, so they established a second republic (1848) but then tired of democracy’s hard work again, and brought back yet another former lover, Napoleon’s nephew, with the second empire (1852), but finally realized that democracy was really worth it, no matter what, and so they set up a third republic (1870). And all of this took place in less than 80 years. Victor Hugo (1802-1885) lived through all of this political turmoil that threw French society into spasms. He especially witnessed the injurious economic effects of this tumultuous political environment that coincided with the Industrial Revolution.

The title, Les Miserables can be translated as “The Miserable Ones”, “The Wretched”, “The Poor Ones”, “The Wretched Poor”. These descriptions pertain to the book’s cast of individuals who have fallen into the cracks of society. Some have stumbled because of bad personal choices, others because of no fault of their own, but often times, these suffering have succumbed due to a “perfect storm” of mixed social variables involving family background, economic status, and political intrigue. They are anonymous players on the world’s cruel stage. Many would say that they are just downright unlucky.

Like Holden Caulfield in Catcher in the Rye, they have become casualties of the world’s corrupt system, indebted to its sin and broken by its lusts. They are descendents of abuse, inheritors of shame, and malefactors of similar maltreatment. Today, we might call them victims.

In Les Miserables, Jean Valjean is one of those unfortunate ones. As described in Les Miserables:

Jean Valjean came from a poor peasant family of Brie. He had not learned to read in his childhood. When he reached man's estate, he became a tree-pruner at Faverolles… Jean Valjean was of that thoughtful but not gloomy disposition which constitutes the peculiarity of affectionate natures. On the whole, however, there was something decidedly sluggish and insignificant about Jean Valjean in appearance, at least. He had lost his father and mother at a very early age. His mother had died of a milk fever, which had not been properly attended to. His father, a tree-pruner, like himself, had been killed by a fall from a tree. All that remained to Jean Valjean was a sister older than himself,--a widow with seven children, boys and girls. This sister had brought up Jean Valjean, and so long as she had a husband she lodged and fed her young brother.

The husband died. The eldest of the seven children was eight years old. The youngest, one.

Jean Valjean had just attained his twenty-fifth year. He took the father's place, and, in his turn, supported the sister who had brought him up. This was done simply as a duty and even a little churlishly on the part of Jean Valjean. Thus his youth had been spent in rude and ill-paid toil. He had never known a "kind woman friend" in his native parts. He had not had the time to fall in love.

He returned at night weary, and ate his broth without uttering a word.

His sister, mother Jeanne, often took the best part of his repast from his bowl while he was eating,--a bit of meat, a slice of bacon, the heart of the cabbage,--to give to one of her children. As he went on eating, with his head bent over the table and almost into his soup, his long hair falling about his bowl and concealing his eyes, he had the air of perceiving nothing and allowing it.

There was at Faverolles, not far from the Valjean thatched cottage, on the other side of the lane, a farmer's wife named Marie-Claude; the Valjean children, habitually famished, sometimes went to borrow from Marie-Claude a pint of milk, in their mother's name, which they drank behind a hedge or in some alley corner, snatching the jug from each other so hastily that the little girls spilled it on their aprons and down their necks. If their mother had known of this marauding, she would have punished the delinquents severely.

Jean Valjean gruffly and grumblingly paid Marie-Claude for the pint of milk behind their mother's back, and the children were not punished.

In pruning season he earned eighteen sous a day; then he hired out as a hay-maker, as laborer, as neat-herd on a farm, as a drudge. He did whatever he could. His sister worked also but what could she do with seven little children? It was a sad group enveloped in misery, which was being gradually annihilated. A very hard winter came. Jean had no work. The family had no bread. No bread literally. Seven children!

One Sunday evening, Maubert Isabeau, the baker on the Church Square at Faverolles, was preparing to go to bed, when he heard a violent blow on the grated front of his shop. He arrived in time to see an arm passed through a hole made by a blow from a fist, through the grating and the glass. The arm seized a loaf of bread and carried it off. Isabeau ran out in haste; the robber fled at the full speed of his legs. Isabeau ran after him and stopped him. The thief had flung away the loaf, but his arm was still bleeding. It was Jean Valjean.

Jean Valjean was pronounced guilty. The terms of the Code were explicit. There occur formidable hours in our civilization; there are moments when the penal laws decree a shipwreck. What an ominous minute is that in which society draws back and consummates the irreparable abandonment of a sentient being! Jean Valjean was condemned to five years in the galleys.

So, Jean Valjean goes on to be imprisoned for the next 19 years because he tries to escape four times as his sister and seven children dissipate into economic oblivion. During this time he contemplates on how he ended up in prison.

He began by putting himself on trial.

He recognized the fact that he was not an innocent man unjustly punished. He admitted that he had committed an extreme and blameworthy act; that that loaf of bread would probably not have been refused to him had he asked for it; that, in any case, it would have been better to wait until he could get it through compassion or through work; ….that it had been an act of madness for him, a miserable, unfortunate wretch, to take society at large violently by the collar, and to imagine that one can escape from misery through theft; that that is in any case a poor door through which to escape from misery through which infamy enters; in short, that he was in the wrong.

Then he asked himself--

Whether he had been the only one in fault in his fatal history. Whether it not a serious thing, that he, a laborer, out of work, that he, an industrious man, should have lacked bread. And whether, the fault once committed and confessed, the chastisement had not been ferocious and disproportioned. Whether there had not been more abuse on the part of the law, in respect to the penalty, than there had been on the part of the culprit in respect to his fault.

Whether this penalty, complicated by successive aggravations for attempts at escape, had not ended in becoming a sort of outrage perpetrated by the stronger upon the feebler, a crime of society against the individual, a crime which was being committed afresh every day, a crime which had lasted nineteen years.

He asked himself whether human society could have the right to force its members to suffer equally in one case for its own unreasonable lack of foresight, and in the other case for its pitiless foresight; and to seize a poor man forever between a defect and an excess, a default of work and an excess of punishment.

Whether it was not outrageous for society to treat thus precisely those of its members who were the least well endowed in the division of goods made by chance, and consequently the most deserving of consideration.

These questions put and answered, he judged society and condemned it.

He condemned it to his hatred.

So Jean Valjean becomes a bitter man, blaming the world and its social system for his unreasonable, unjust situation. When he is finally released, he has no trust in his fellow man or society, just a hardened heart. His first day out from prison, he walks all day and when he arrives at a town, no one will open their tavern to him because he is a former convict. Though he has money, no one will acquiesce to his lodging request.

The only place that will open up to him is a priest, a bishop in fact, Bishop Myriel. The hospitable bishop warmly welcomes him treating him, shockingly, with honor fit for a king. Unlike the rest of the town, the bishop offers to Jean Valjean the best that he has to offer. That night for reasons attributed to his 19 years of degeneracy, Jean Valjean awakes and robs the bishop of the silver utensils that he had served him dinner with and flees into the night. The next morning, Jean Valjean is captured by police and brought back to face the bishop. As Jean is brought into the bishop’s house, the bishop proclaims:

“I am glad to see you. Well, but how is this? I gave you the candlesticks too, which are of silver like the rest, and for which you can certainly get two hundred francs. Why did you not carry them away with your forks and spoons?"

Jean Valjean opened his eyes wide, and stared at the venerable Bishop
with an expression which no human tongue can render any account of.

“Monseigneur,” said the brigadier of gendarmes, "so what this man
said is true, then? We came across him. He was walking like a man
who is running away. We stopped him to look into the matter. He had this silver--"

"And he told you," interposed the Bishop with a smile, "that it had been given to him by a kind old fellow of a priest with whom he had passed the night? I see how the matter stands. And you have brought him back here? It is a mistake."

“In that case,” replied the brigadier, "we can let him go?"

"Certainly," replied the Bishop.

The gendarmes released Jean Valjean, who recoiled.

"Is it true that I am to be released?" he said, in an almost inarticulate voice, and as though he were talking in his sleep.

“Yes, thou art released; dost thou not understand?” said one of the gendarmes.

"My friend," resumed the Bishop, "before you go, here are your candlesticks. Take them."

He stepped to the chimney-piece, took the two silver candlesticks, and brought them to Jean Valjean. The two women looked on without uttering a word, without a gesture, without a look which could disconcert the Bishop.

Jean Valjean was trembling in every limb. He took the two candlesticks mechanically, and with a bewildered air.

"Now," said the Bishop, "go in peace. By the way, when you return, my friend, it is not necessary to pass through the garden. You can always enter and depart through the street door. It is never fastened with anything but a latch, either by day or by night."

Then, turning to the gendarmes:--

"You may retire, gentlemen."

The gendarmes retired.

Jean Valjean was like a man on the point of fainting.

The Bishop drew near to him, and said in a low voice:--

"Do not forget, never forget, that you have promised to use this money in becoming an honest man."

Jean Valjean, who had no recollection of ever having promised anything, remained speechless. The Bishop had emphasized the words when he uttered them. He resumed with solemnity:--

"Jean Valjean, my brother, you no longer belong to evil, but to good. It is your soul that I buy from you; I withdraw it from black thoughts and the spirit of perdition, and I give it to God."

This incredible act of mercy by the Bishop will have a lasting impact upon Jean Valjean’s soul. While he will still have immense difficulties in life, he will endeavor to produce fruit of righteousness no matter his future dire circumstance or resulting consequence. Not only will he redeem his life from destruction, but he will use his newfound salvation to liberate the lives of others with his good deeds. Through patient endurance, Jean will overcome his past and redemptively engage his world. He will stand as an unrelenting light in society’s darkness.

Earlier, I alluded to the statement that “I am the tyranny of evil men…but I’m trying real hard to be a shepherd.” That truly is my personal testimony. I can relate to biblical characters who attempt to follow God yet constantly stumble. I take solace in Prov 24:16, “though the righteous man falls seven times, he rises again.” Since I have already fallen more than seven times, I wonder if I can combine this verse to the time when Jesus commanded Peter to forgive his brother not just seven times, but seventy times seven (Mt 18:21-22). Even so, I know I have fallen more than 490 times.

Victor Hugo makes this curious statement about Jean Valjean:

Jean Valjean had this peculiarity, that he might be said to carry two knapsacks; in one he had the thoughts of a saint, in the other the formidable talents of a convict. He helped himself from one or the other as occasion required.

Jean Valjean’s character is an encouragement to me on this path that I tread. On one side, he has tasted the depths of depravity but on the other side he has been redeemed by God. I believe that navigating those two experiences of humanity—sin and forgiveness, while walking steadfastly forward in God’s grace, stands as one of the greatest witnesses we can bear on this earth.

Community

This is a rough outline of a sermon that Sharon and I tag-teamed on at Grace Lutheran in Bayonne, NJ on April 13, 2008. I would set up the four basic points from Acts 2:42 (Apostles' Teaching, Fellowship, Meals, Prayer) and Sharon would give commentary from I Peter complementing those ideas.

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This morning we want to look at Acts 2:42 from the lectionary reading and talk about four characteristics that defined the early church in Acts. As I focus on the Acts text, Sharon will apply the book of First Peter to this discussion concerning community.


Community

An easy way to define the essence of community is to see it as two words:

Common + Unity = Community

The first part of community is the word, common. To be in a community you all must hold something in common…sports fans cheer for the same team, in politics, Republicans vote for Republicans and Democrats vote for Democrats. Hobby enthusiasts share the same passion for a particular pastime. Ethnic groups share the same culture, including food, language, and art.

Communities are bound by similar lifestyles, goals, rules, direction, and purpose.

Look around at those sitting near you at Grace Lutheran. What do you have in common? Is it that your kids play together?

Is it that they are:

Your age?
Family members?
Old buddies?
Neighbors?

Did you:

Grow up together?
Work together?

Or is the only thing in common that you live in Bayonne?

More than all of these things, are we here at Grace Lutheran because we are followers of Jesus? Do we all have this in common?

The second part of community is the word, unity. A community is only as strong as its weakest link (Ecc 4:9-12). This past summer I was watching a TV show about airplane crashes and what caused them. One story in particular caught my attention. A plane’s tail was suppose to be secured with two bolts but when this specific plane was assembled the crew only used one bolt. Consequently, after many landing and take offs, the tail of this plane blew off and hundreds of people lost their lives. If you can imagine that Grace Lutheran is an airplane and when we fight and poison the air of our congregation, without forgiving one another, we send our plane into a nosedive. One bitter root can lead to the decay and eventual destruction of a community. Therefore, unity is a necessity for the Grace Lutheran community.

Yet when we are unified around Jesus, the Bible says that special things will occur.

As you come to him, the living stone— rejected by men, but chosen by God and precious to him— you also, like living stones, are being built into a spiritual house to be a holy priesthood, offering spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ. (I Pet 2:4-5)

I’m sure the image of the Temple with its massive stones may have been what was in the author’s mind. But the striking image here is that we’re called ‘living stones’. What does that mean? I’m imagining huge blocks of jello that can jiggle around. Imagine trying to build a house with living stones. Just when you’ve lined up your row, one stone decides to walk away, or go sit somewhere else. Coordinating community is hard. We’re all unique and we’re not finished. We’re ‘being built’, that’s a process, and building a community is a process that each individual is a part of.


Apostles’ Teaching (Bible Study)

The basis for our faith is the Bible. God’s word is the rule that we measure and apply our lives to. The Word binds us together. We need to study it continually, not just at an official Bible Study but on our own, in our daily lives.

Therefore rid yourselves of all malice and all deceit, hypocrisy, envy, and slander of every kind. Like newborn babies, crave pure spiritual milk, so that by it you may grow up in your salvation, now that you have tasted that the Lord is good. (I Pet 2:1-3)

Our environment shapes us. That is why commercials work. So we have to immerse ourselves in God’s perspective that may not always be clear or come naturally. That’s why we have the Bible. We have to grow in our salvation… that means we get refined. Our thinking and conscience become more nuanced, shades of self-delusion are dropped. We may realize a comment we said was actually slander.


Fellowship (Koinonia)

The Greek word for fellowship here is Koinonia. It means holding all things in common, sharing lives, caring about what is going on with others, knowing someone on a deep and intimate level. In many ways, we at Grace Lutheran practice this quite well. But to grow as body, we have to expand our vision for those we fellowship with.

Finally, all of you, live in harmony with one another; be sympathetic, love as brothers, be compassionate and humble. Do not repay evil with evil or insult with insult, but with blessing, because to this you were called so that you may inherit a blessing. (I Pet 3:8-9)

It’s not easy to live in harmony, in community, with each other. If it were, the author wouldn’t have needed to write about it. I Peter was written to people in hard situations and unjust systems. Some were slaves, some were women in a world where they were considered inferior, some were persecuted. It’s to these people Peter advises not to resist the system, but to trust the ‘faithful creator’ (I Peter 4:19). That’s hard. There were real evils he is asking them to forgive. It puts some of our petty issues into perspective. We don’t choose our position in life, we don’t choose our family, and we don’t choose our church members. Regardless, we have the privilege to forgive our personal injustices. Even the big ones.


Meals (Eating Together)

Eating together is an intimate and personal affair. You don’t eat with enemies. When you eat with someone, you grow closer and learn about each other. I really enjoyed our past weeks with the Alpha meetings, because I got to meet and know many of you in a better, deeper way. When we share our food, and open our table to others, we demonstrate hospitality. We at Grace Lutheran can enjoy a good party and yet we need to continue to invite others to our parties. We need to spread our table wide for all who would want to join us.


Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins. Offer hospitality to one another without grumbling. Each one should use whatever gift he has received to serve others, faithfully administering God’s grace in its various forms. (I Pet 4:8-10)

Usually we tend to cover over our own weaknesses—we have grace on ourselves—and highlight others’. Here we’re told to do the opposite, and cover over other people’s weaknesses. What we see so clearly may be our gift and someone else’s blind spot. Instead of getting mad at them or trying to force them to see it our way, acknowledge that maybe what we see is what we’re meant to be doing and focusing on, and we should cover over the weaknesses of others. We also have to be vulnerable. Hospitality means getting together, eating in each other’s homes, sharing, making ourselves accessible in this self-sufficient world.



Prayer

Prayer is the glue, the cement, the emulsifier that binds the spiritual community. You’ve probably heard the common saying, “the family that prays together, stays together.” So too, for Grace Lutheran to stay together, we must pray together. Not just in Sunday services or special prayer meetings but in our daily routine. Prayer draws us closer to God and closer to each other, uniting us to God’s heart.


Humble yourselves, therefore, under God’s mighty hand, that he may lift you up in due time. Cast all your anxiety upon Him because He cares for you. (I Pet 5:6-7)

God’s mighty hand is a powerful image, because it can be gentle and comforting or it can discipline and hurt. ‘due time’ means there is no time guarantee. We don’t know how long we, or others we love, may have to endure a hard situation, but we have to hold on to the fact that God is good. We trust that God’s nature is good, and he cares what’s happening to us.


Conclusion

Grace Lutheran is a team; it’s a body; it’s a community. But we can only succeed if we are unified, trusting in Jesus, acting like Jesus, following in his steps, doing what he would. We all say we believe in God’s love but do we demonstrate God’s love to each other (1 John 4:20-21)? When we do demonstrate that love, God will show up in an extraordinary way and the supernatural will occur.

Now that you have purified yourselves by obeying the truth so that you have sincere love for your brothers, love one another deeply, from the heart. For you have been born again, not of perishable seed, but of imperishable, through the living and enduring word of God. (I Pet 1:22-23)

When we have real love for each other, and are practicing community, others will see it and be attracted to it. God’s seed has been planted in us, so let’s let that seed grow, and flourish in us and in our community at Grace Lutheran, and in our community here in Bayonne.