Religion

Religion

I have, for some time, had a love/hate relationship with the word “religion.” I love what I have come to understand it truly means, and what it can refer to, but, along with others, I so often hate what the word typically conjures to mind. I have even, not all that long ago, preached and taught about the ostensibly meaningful (but, ultimately, false) distinction so many in my (GenX) and the Millenial generations make about being “spiritual… but not religious.” (You can listen to the sermon in 2 parts, here and here.)

I was first exposed to “spiritual… but not religious,” the phenomena that is now a seeming demographic inland of itself, when I read Catholic author Tom Beaudoin’s book Virtual Faith in January, 2000. So enraptured by the concept, I even bought the copy of U.S. Catholic that featured Beaudoin’s article sharing a title with and describing the then-emerging phenomena of “spiritual… but not religious.”

You can find much written about the phrase and what it means to various people of spiritual yearning. So I will simply summarize the outlook as follows:

The honest deep spiritual yearning of some for meaning, fulfillment, and even God, but who feel alienated from and averse to “religion” in so far as it is widely understood.

Those who identify themselves as “spiritual… but not religious” (I’ll use S…BNR as shorthand) perceive religion negatively, suggesting religion is the domain of out-of-touch religious institutions that are hypocritical, irrelevant to life, averse to science and/or modern though, inconsistent, and prone to power struggles (particularly struggles to create or enforce some “right” definition or doctrine).

I have returned to reflecting on the word religion most recently because of an interview that actor Daniel Radcliffe (aka. Harry Potter) gave to Parade Magazine just this month. When asked about his own faith, considering his own Catholic father and Jewish mother, Radcliffe replied with the answer:

My dad believes in God, I think. I’m not sure if my mom does. I don’t. I have a problem with religion or anything that says, “We have all the answers,” because there is no such thing as “the answers.” We’re complex. We change our minds on issues all the time. Religion leaves no room for human complexity.

I do not want to assume Radcliffe among the S…BNR, for his initial words in the above quotation actually suggest his being atheist. However, when I first read his response my immediate thought was that his definition of “religion” was, like so many others, founded on contemporary misconceptions that the Church – and I would include any denomination or “tribe” here – has helped to create! As words, “religion” and “religious” have come to inspire images associated with hypocrisy, judgmental attitudes, heavy-handed indoctrination, lifeless enforcement of particular rituals, and more.

In 2000, as a second year seminarian having just read and found in Beaudoin’s the first voice I felt to be a relevant prophet for my generation, I championed the need for change to reach Xers. I was, to a degree of current shame, rebelliously adamant for change and condescendingly critical of the existing structures or practices of the Church. I loved Christ and his Church – and also the Methodist Church – too much to allow, as I perceived it, the negative and irrelevance of the faith to lose a generation.

I’ve mellowed some over the years, in no small part because the more I have learned of Church history – and particularly about the renewal movement begun by the Wesleys in their own day – and the more I have encountered ancient, but often neglected, practices of faith, the more I have become convinced that true religion is not antithetical to spiritual yearning.

I understand that the word “religion” comes with baggage for many people today, and so I respect that it may be necessary to encourage S…BNRs toward growth in faith in other ways. And yet, at the same time, a part of me desires to reclaim the word in its positive sense.

I have come to believe that true religion is spiritual yearning. Perhaps it is the growing influence of the leader and mentor of my particular tribe, John Wesley, for whom true religion was a “religion of the heart,” an inner drive and desire for God. For Wesley (as I understand him!), there would have been no distinction between “spiritual” and “religious.” True religion is the drive to know the love of God, the experience of that amazing love, and the pouring forth of God’s love for others. Although true religion influences and leads to positive works, it is not dependent on any particular work or doctrine.

Indeed, I want to suggest that religion is not about a specific set of tasks or about knowing the “right” answers, rather religion gives form to our questions and our quest. Beliefs are a part of religion, but so are attitudes and practices. And for me, these are not about providing rigid intellectual frameworks, limiting human experience, or demanding obedience to some institutional power.

Rather, the ancient practices of Christian faith – reading Scripture (eg. Lectio Divina), quiet prayer (eg. contemplative prayer), community prayer (eg. The Lord’s Prayer), fasting or abstinence, Christian conference (eg. small groups), works of mercy (e.g. serving others), and even sacraments (eg. Eucharist) – are means by which we can positively engage our deepest yearning for God. And the attitudes of faith that I most earnestly seek – those “fruits of the spirit” defined by Paul (Galatians 5:22-23) as love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness/generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control – encapsulate a way of life that is both response to and part of our deep “spiritual” yearning.

So, to me at least, religion is not antithetical to one’s spirituality. It is a means – even a gift – by which I can allow the spirit within me to grow after and into God. Religion gives form and awe and mystery to my growing life’s experience of the numinous, of the divine.

Simple

Just a quick post today from my pad, to note the confluence of the following article that I read on Harvard Business Review this morning with a friend’s recommendation that I read the book “Simple “Church.”

Here’s the article link, about our 2,300 year run of “information overload”…

http://www.businessweek.com/managing/content/mar2011/ca20110315_654306.htm

In The Company of Mormons

On this day, let me open up a can of worms. The word for today: Mormon.

Growing up in the East Valley as a member of a United Methodist Church and youth group (not to mention generally clueless and nerdy), not only did I feel somewhat alienated from the majority of my neighbors and elementary, junior high, and high school peers; but at times, outright harassed by them. Because I wasn’t a part of any LDS “ward,” I found myself often the victim of verbal abuse, even so far as being told I was damned because I wasn’t one of them.

So, naturally, by the time I left the Valley for college, I had experienced and was nursing a great degree of hurt, anger, and prejudice toward Mormons. (In reflection, my own prejudice against them was actually re-enforced at times by adults I knew, and their vociferous opinions against the LDS faith.) Thankfully, while in college I managed to experience a new sub-community made up of several faith traditions, as I took part in the United Christian Ministry at NAU. The Mormon church became less of an influence in my life, and even less so when I left for Seminary and to serve United Methodist Churches in Illinois.

Fast forward to 2006, and our return to the Valley to pastor a small congregation in rural Queen Creek, just south-east of my adolescent home of Mesa, Arizona. I had been removed from the direct influence of or acquaintance with Mormons for several years, but now was called into ministry in communities where they flourished.

From the start of my return here, I’ve been somewhat uncomfortable. A large factor in our communities, even to the point of influencing community policy, Mormon faith and practice are so radically different from my tradition (more so than other Christian denominations), and the perception I have experienced is that I am the “alien” to them. I’m on the outside.

But it is not just the preponderance of Mormons and Mormon churches that disquiets my soul, but more-so how my Christian colleagues refer and relate to them. It is (or should be, at any rate) well observed that although Mormons consider themselves a Christian church, they are not regarded as such by virtually all other Christian churches. I knew this in returning, but have been surprised and/or challenged to learn and experience:

(1) that Mormon baptism is the _only_ self-understood Christian baptism rejected by my tradition. Whereas members of our “tribe” of Methodists bemoan and repudiate the theology of Baptists that rejects our concept of baptism and requires re-baptism, we turn around and do the same thing for Mormons.

(2) the ecumenical organization in my community specifically rejected Mormons from participating (it later self-designated itself to an organization of Christian groups, defined by accepting the Apostles Creed).

(3) in conversations with Mormons, their universal understanding of themselves is that they are Christians. Different than other denominations, sure, but – as the Vatican only finally declared of Protestants in the 1960s – fellow followers on a different path. The adult Mormons I’ve had conversation with have been far more open about their faith and tolerant of me than my earlier experience here in the Valley (suggesting that the victimization I experienced may have had more to do with adolescence than just the faith).

(4) in conversations among clergy colleagues of my own tribe, I was surprised to hear the Mormon church and its leaders referred to as misguided (I might agree with this; but then, as I’ll share, we all might be a bit misguided), as well as intentionally misled, subtly evil, and outright demonic.

I can already hear in my mind counter-arguments and justifications for Christian churches stands against the Mormon church. I understand the arguments from Scriptural and theological viewpoints, and also from the standpoint of many who felt they were “abused” by the Mormon church when they were members (there are also a large number of Christians from all traditions who express they were “abused” by the Church). Because Mormons claim the name Christian while other Christians do not accept them, their faith is a particular worry and frustration to many faithful Christians. There are so many who will vociferously express their dislike and distrust of the Mormon Church, and even express judgment on any one who expresses a different viewpoint.

I am not a member of their church, do not fully understand their faith, and do not approve of much of what I do know about it. That said, I am unsettled about, and uncomfortable with, how we respond to the Mormon faith. There is a growing disquiet in my soul that I feel I have to continue to reflect upon.

Lately, as we’ve been reading through the New Testament together, this ongoing conflict in my spirit has re-emerged. Now that we’re already deep into the topic, let me share a few Scriptural and extra-Biblical influences on me:

First, from a personally foundational standpoint, there is a song lyric that rattles around in the back of my head, written by my friend Charles Wolff. I don’t remember the specific (and can’t locate it right now as I don’t have that particular era of songs in digital form on my laptop), but it generally asserted the recognition that we all have the “right to be wrong.” We’ve all been given the freedom of self-will, and though God desires us to know and follow him in Truth, we do so in different ways. With such a preponderance of perspectives and viewpoints available, it seems virtually impossible that anybody has every aspect fully correct.

Lately, I’ve been reminded of Ezekiel 34, where through the prophet the word of the LORD critiques the temporal shepherds who have misled and not cared for the people of Israel. This critique is followed with the promise that God himself will come to care for them:

I myself will search for my sheep and look after them. As a shepherd looks after his scattered flock when he is with them, so will I look after my sheep. I will rescue them from all the places where they were scattered on a day of clouds and darkness. (34:11b-12)

Any and every time I read critiques of Jewish or other religious leadership, I take heed. I am cautious in reading such criticisms, because as a teacher and leader, I need to be aware of the causes and be cautious of avoiding the same. I take concern in reading passages that critique false shepherds or leaders or teachers, not because I necessarily am one, but because my deepest desire is not to be one. I hope and pray to faithfully share the word of the Lord as best I am given the insight and experience to do so…

Further, Jesus also talks about being the Good Shepherd who cares for the sheep, in contrast with the hired hands who only care for their own gain. In John 10, Jesus goes so far as to say:

“I have other sheep that are not of this sheep pen. I must bring them also. They too will listen to my voice, and there shall be one flock and one shepherd.” (10:16)

Although generally interpreted to refer to Gentiles, every time I read this verse I ponder the possibility that Jesus is at work in the world in ways that I am not aware. Clearly, he was teaching and challenging the Jews to that effect, that God was at work in ways they couldn’t’ see and were actually rejecting. Why wouldn’t Jesus say the same thing to Christian leaders and teachers today? Can we honestly believe that we have a complete comprehension of all God’s ways and truth?

Further, this past week I was reminded of the exchange between the Pharisees and Peter and the Apostles in Acts 5. After being brought before the religious leaders for trial in Acts 5, the Apostles are escorted out, and “a Pharisee named Gamaliel, a teacher of the law, who was honored by all the people” stood up to speak. He challenges the Jews on their persecution of the Christians, advising them:

“Leave these men alone! Let them go! For if their purpose or activity is of human origin, it will fail. But if it is from God, you will not be able to stop these men; you will only find yourselves fighting against God.” (5:34, 38b-39)

I think you can stitch these particular passages together without my explicit help, but the general sense I get from reading them is that God’s work is not always clearly visible to us. So if the Mormons have a perception they are following Christ, and have hearts yearning to know and find God, who am I to know for sure that God may not be at work in some way in this? Or, at the very least, receive their faith and hearts as offered, even if they are wrong.

This refers once again to the idea of Christian inclusivism (which I wrote about in a comment on our Bible Study recently). One example of this from a Christian mentor I greatly respect comes from C.S. Lewis, who in The Last Battle, has the soldier Emeth narrate to the Kings and Queens of Narnia how he has come into the wonderful land at the end. Emeth has realized he has spent his life serving a “false” god, and is now confronted with Aslan, the true god (and, in Lewis’ Chronicles of Narnia, an allegory for Christ). He narrates the rest of the encounter thusly:

the Glorious One bent down his golden head and touched my forehead with his tongue and said, Son, thou art welcome. But I said, Alas Lord, I am no son of thine but the servant of Tash. He answered, Child, all the service thou hast done to Tash, I account as service done to me. Then by reasons of my great desire for wisdom and understanding, I overcame my fear and questioned the Glorious One and said, Lord, is it then true, as the Ape said, that thou and Tash are one? The Lion growled so that the earth shook (but his wrath was not against me) and said, It is false. Not because he and I are one, but because we are opposites, I take to me the services which thou hast done to him. For I and he are of such different kinds that no service which is vile can be done to me, and none which is not vile can be done to him. Therefore if any man swear by Tash and keep his oath for the oath’s sake, it is by me that he has truly sworn, though he know it not, and it is I who reward him. And if any man do a cruelty in my name, then, though he says the name Aslan, it is Tash whom he serves and by Tash his deed is accepted. Dost thou understand, Child? I said, Lord, though knowest how much I understand. But I said also (for the truth constrained me), Yet I have been seeking Tash all my days. Beloved, said the Glorious One, unless they desire had been for me thou wouldst not have sought so long and so truly. For all find what they truly seek.

In a passage I read as a teen and still remember, Frederick Buechner wrote that a Christian is not any better than anyone else, “just better informed.” I think this points to the possibility – that I am open to – that though Christ is the way to God, we might encounter, experience, and follow Christ in a great variety of ways. I am not an exclusivist – the belief that only Christians can be saved – but neither am I an universalist – that all faiths are equally valid and “true.” If anything, I uphold the theological truth that Paul hinted at when talking about our love and God’s love, that we only see “dimly”:

For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known. (1 Corinthians 13:12)

I am not seeking to make a claim of theological truth or statement regarding the salvation of others. Indeed, I would not want to do so – other Christians’ opinionated declarations of who is and is not saved often do not sit well with me! I trust in my growing relationship with God as made known in Jesus of Nazareth, and trust John’s assertion that Jesus came not to judge but to offer rebirth, salvation, and abundant life (see John 3 and 10).

I am seeking simply to express an ongoing spiritual unease in my walk with Christ. Even as I struggle with theological positions of the LDS church and their identification as Christian, I struggle just as much with much of the carte-blanche repudiation and rejection of their faith. I’ve wondered if John 4 could be re-envisioned with a Baptist Jesus, who “had to go through Salt Lake City,” and (uncharacteristically, and against the established norm) took the time to speak to a Mormon woman…

I have no definitive answers, aside from the fact that I live in the company of Mormons in my neighborhoods and community and can and will show the same respect I do for all other people (of various religious faiths). I seek to fulfill the second half of the great commandment, to “love your neighbor as yourself.” I enjoy conversations, and am happy to share about my experience of knowing life and truth in Jesus Christ, but without making the absolutist claim that they can only know God in the same way… at the same time, I do not want to be informed that I am damned unless I fully embrace their understandings of God and faith.

I do hope for the day I’ll see more clearly, as Paul promises, but until then I find myself siding with Gamaliel’s advice. Rather than focusing attention on others’ whose faith is different, rather than allying myself for or against a perceived “enemy,” I choose to seek and serve God. I prefer to focus on those whose faith is just being incubated by the work of the Holy Spirit (i.e. “prevenient grace”), or just being birthed through the experience of forgiveness of Jesus Christ (i.e. “justifying grace”), or being challenged and nurtured more into the image of Jesus Christ (i.e. “sanctifying grace”).

Speaking Well

[Abba Megethius] also said, ‘Originally, when we met together we spoke of edifying things, encouraging one another and we were “like the angels”; we ascended up to the heavens. But now when we come together, we only drag one another down by gossiping, and so we go down to hell.”

I have, for some time – and quite unsuccessfully – been reading through a copy of The Sayings of the Desert Fathers, a collection of the legends about and teachings of the ancient Abbas and Ammas, hermits and monks from the early centuries of the Christian church. Many of the stories are edifying, many are downright weird, and all give me something to chew over.

The story above is one bit from what I read today, and it seems to particularly speak to my heart this weekend.

This week I began an INSPIRE network accountability group with a couple other young, mission-minded clergy (if interested, contact me). Using the “Way of Life” as our guide, we intend to gather regularly to share with one another about our life in Christ and our spiritual growth, encouraging and challenging one another. I’m hopeful for the group, and look forward to how we can motivate one another to better follow Christ.

So seldom in regular conversation do we have the opportunity to talk of deep things; the matters of one’s spirit. We linger over vocation or church-life, but rarely if ever inquire or hold one another accountable for our spiritual walk. We ask about worship attendance, but don’t go deeply into how we balance piety and mercy. We talk about how our families are, but tread lightly or not at all around one’s relationship with Christ.

I don’t think our talk is “unwholesome,” so to speak, but I think our lack of depth and tendency toward the trivial misses an important exhortation from the Apostle Paul:

Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen. (Ephesians 4:29)

I am grateful and excited to be among a small group of peers whose intention is to speak of “edifying things, encouraging one another” that we may serve in some small way as assistants to the work Christ is doing within and among us. I pray that we may not succumb to the temptation to gossip or trivial talk.

Even without such a group, I would hope that as a Christian my talk would be in the direction of that which is wholesome, speech that coincides with the work of God to build others up, words that are helpful to others.

How do we seek to speak well?

I don’t remember where I first heard it, but I was reminded this week of a suggestion for sharing one’s thoughts or opinion. Before saying anything, check to see that what you have to say fulfills at least two of the following:

1. Is it true?
2. Is it kind?
3. Is it necessary?

If what you have to say doesn’t meet at least two of the three, perhaps it is best left unsaid. That’s not a bad rule of thumb.

May the Lord inspire us all, that we may use our speech well, building each other up until we are more like Christ.

Making Hay in AZ…

There’s an old proverb I have heard many times (though perhaps more often while I was pastoring in the Midwest): “Make hay while the sun shines.”

This has been rattling around in my head the last two days, so I thought I’d finally commit it to paper (or the interwebs, anyway). You see, one of my inner reflections about all the responses I’ve seen to the story of the Tucson shooting this past weekend keeps suggesting to me: “we’re making hay in the dark.”

Even as I’ve responded or commented about the events of the last week, I’ve been appalled by some voices utilizing the event, or peoples’ responses to the event, etc, to make some political point or score some ideological victory. The irony is not lost on me that some of the voices that most angered me were the ones complaining about some other side “politicizing” the tragedy.

Hay seed germinates in the dark of the soil, shell breaking and stalk first breaking forth into the light as a little shoot that will grow. Then the plant grows and matures, and then it can be gathered.

I hope that, despite some of the claims and accusations and defensive postures of people now, there will some day be some growth out of the national, state, (and for some, very personal) darkness experienced this last week. I hope that the seed that is breaking and transforming into a stalk may lead us into deeper, civil, transformative discussions around some real issues that are coming into light in the midst of this event, areas we need to pursue substantive dialogue…

• civility in the public arena, a project some have even given up on
• the state of mental health care in our nation, and in our state…

In the end, we can and should make hay when the sun is up in part because the hayseed’s transformation began in the dark…

Glimpses of the divine?

A friend and I were traveling the streets of San Francisco, by train, bus, and foot. Our conversation took many turns, but we began to discuss the important and fundamental link between physical, emotional, and spiritual health and well-being, and how changes in one of these areas can have a profound impact upon the others.

As we walked through streets of the western peninsula, populated by a variety of Asian communities, we stopped for a moment to admire and discuss a small granite statute of the Buddha, sitting in an alcove looking out upon the street. The seeker of enlightenment watches the traffic go by each day, the very people I witnessed busily rushing from one place to another, distracted by appointments, deadlines, iPods, and the general business of “real life”…

We had no sooner crossed the street, leaving the Buddha behind us to contemplate the deeper meaning of life amid the chaos of morning traffic, when I was stopped in my tracks by cluttered shelves in a window. On busy shelves of pewter, brass, and other metals, mini-Buddhas sat alongside Hindu idols of Kali, Ganeesh, Shiva, and other alien deities whose names or nature I cannot comprehend with my western-influenced, generally skeptical mind and spirit. The gods-for-sale sit side-by-side, shelves away from ceramic pirate skeletons, looking out upon the cosmopolitan city…

We continue on, and literally two storefronts down we come across an open door into the “Archangel Bookstore.” Thinking it my only chance to see what mysteries or gifts this location might yield, I step inside, and am surprised to be looking upon the faces of the saints of the Eastern Orthodox Church, facing the doorway and offering me “windows into heaven” during this day’s journey down a road rich in religious experience.

I am coming to think that there just might be something here; a bit of wisdom, perhaps, about the ability to find when one is open to seeing. I had just spent a week in discussion on inter-religious dialogue, the official curriculum and teaching focused on dialogue between Christian, Buddhist, and Hindu expressions of faith (a great deal of other conversation occurred about dialogue between Christianity and Mormonism). So perhaps it was, as my friend and I walk streets familiar to him, these different expressions of eastern religion caught my eyes because I was subconsciously tuned in to seeing them.

Then again, who knows what interesting expressions of faith we buzzed by on buss as we passed Haight-Ashbury? What caught my eye this day were the statutes, the idols, the icons of others – expressions from diverse religious traditions, generally unfamiliar to me and yet seeming to emphasize our mutual yearning for meaning, for significance, for a deeper experience  – whether we call it peace, enlightenment, dharma, hesychism (stillness), or nirvana – in the midst of our otherwise chaotic lives…

Later in the same day, I watched the world from another vantage point. Far above the streets I had been walking, I saw the Golden Gate bridge, as well as the streets I had walked, clear as day and small as models as our plane banked from east to west. And then, as the sun was setting, I watched as the plane descended through the darkness of the sky toward the lights of the city below.

Lord, our experience in this life is shrouded. We’re lost in the darkness, perhaps, yearning for your light to shine through. I am sure you are ever present in all of Creation around me, and am coming to think that this must include the religious expressions of others. I believe it pleases you when we pause and seek to notice, in the midst of our dark and chaotic experience, some glimpse of you; when we seek to be aware that You are present. On the city streets, a hundred would-be gods stare out the shop windows at those passing by; a memorial to a single enlightened Eastern soul sits just blocks from cathedrals build to glorify you. I hope and pray, O Lord, that for those who stop and notice not to scoff or condemn, but with hearts open and spirits yearning, that you might be found among the clutter. Guide us all, O Lord, out of the darkness and toward Your light, wherever it might be shining to show us the way. Amen.

“Fair Use”

I’ve been considering “fair use” the last few days. For those unfamiliar with the term, “fair use” refers to the way in which content creators take existing media (eg video clips) to create new art. For example, Buffy v. Edward…

Copyright holders – particularly the big studios and record companies – object to such use. Yet as members of the digital culture continue to shift toward open source, content creation like this is being championed on a variety of fronts. Some organizations – like creative commons – exist to provide material to people for fair use, without the potential challenge from copyright holders.

I’ve straddled this particular debate for years. I’m not a fan or supporter of piracy – or thievery, as the RIAA now wants it to be known! – partly because of my belief that those who have created original content should be reimbursed for it, as they desire to be (so if someone wants their material distributed freely, that is one thing; but movies, music, etc. shouldn’t be passed around without some payment to the creator).

But I’ve also been increasingly frustrated with new and innovative DRM – digital rights management – being forced upon us and preventing what should be legal activities. Ever try to copy a DVD so your kids don’t keep snapping the original? The act of copying, if you can find a way, is illegal [breaking the Digital Media Copyright Act endorsed by our own Congress] because you have to “break” the DRM to do so; and yet, possessing the copy is not illegal!

When it comes to content creation, beyond the ubiquitous observation that “our culture is changing” and digital media allows for a great variety of artistic impression, I had a realization this week: Much of how I artistically express myself today is in part because of learning how to do so through “fair use.”

Consider, for example, my ability to write (however minimally I may do so!). I caught the “writing bug” while in 6th grade, when our teacher (Mr Clark!) assigned a creative writing assignment every week. Each Monday I began drafting a new short story, and would regularly read them aloud on Fridays. I freely “borrowed” concepts and characters from other authors, particularly Douglas Adams (I regularly interjected myself into standard Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy stories); though my own voice also began to emerge.

My unapologetic lifting of ideas from other authors is, in essence, similar to what new media content creators do when they mix music, movie, television, or other media sources into new creations.

I might also suggest that my ability to sing comes from “fair use.” Any talent or ability that I have today I owe to sitting next to and emulating Shaun Creighton, copying from him. Although I learned for myself, I also thought this week that perhaps this was a form of “fair use.”

Our ideas about copyright and plagiarism are all fairly modern (Shakespeare regularly lifted from Philip Marlowe, for example!), and are likely going to change in my lifetime. I think we’ll start to understand and accept “fair use” in the ways it is being championed for content creation in the cloud.