(This is an Accepted Manuscript of an article published by Taylor & Francis in Liturgy, 28 (3): 7–16, 2013 on April 22, 2013, available online: http://www.tandfonline.com/10.1080/0458063X.2013.774881) LET ME PUT IT ANOTHER WAY: DIGITAL MEDIA AND THE FUTURE OF THE LITURGY James F. Caccamo December 4, 2013 marks a significant day in the modern history of Christian worship: the fiftieth anniversary of the promulgation of The Second Vatican Council’s Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy. While building upon existing liturgical movements, Sacrosanctum Concilium inaugurated a period of official liturgical change that thoroughly transformed Roman Catholic public worship. In doing so, it remade the way that Catholics experience the presence of God and community as mediated in linguistic, physical, and social realities. Roman Catholic liturgy would never be the same. The period of dramatic liturgical change following Vatican II has had only one equal, namely the period following the Council of Trent. The two sets of changes ran in rather different directions, with Trent inaugurating a restoration and regularization of the liturgy while Vatican II dismantled and rebuilt it.1 Yet, despite the different trajectories they described, the councils share a fundamental commonality in originating as responses to transitional phases in the history of Western culture. The Council of Trent was called amidst the wars of religion, the Protestant Reformation, and the transition from the Renaissance to the early-modern period in Europe. Vatican II was called in the aftermath of two world wars, an explosion of science and technology, the advent of youth culture, growing awareness of the developing world and as—some would put it—the Roman Catholic Church finally decided to deal with the enlightenment and modernism. In response to major cultural changes, the liturgy was twice transformed. If we keep digging, though, it is possible to discern another important commonality in the forces that drove these liturgical changes. In both cases, the social changes that drove the councils were themselves rooted in seismic shifts in the means of communication. It is generally recognized that the advent of movable type—what is sometimes called the “first wave” of media change—was the necessary precondition for the many cultural changes in European culture to which Trent responded by enabling widespread and unprecedented access to texts and education, diversity of interpretation, the centralization of political and intellectual authority, and standardization.2 In contrast, scholars and pastors generally overlook the fact that Vatican II was also called on the heels of a period of profound development in communication technology. The period between the 1830s and 1920s—often v 7 v Liturgy, 28 (3): 7–16, 2013 Copyright © The Liturgical Conference ISSN: 0458-063X DOI: 10.1080/0458063X.2013.774881 referred to as the “second wave” of media change—gave birth to electric and electronic media, including the telegraph, phonograph, radio, film, telephone, and television. These technologies were no less powerful than moveable type, bringing instantaneous communication, connection to immense audiences, an explosion of visual and musical culture, and for the first time the ability to bring an entire nation together in a single, live media experience. Over time, these technologies became the foundation of entertainment media, enabling it to take center stage in the American household, reconfiguring physical spaces and changing patterns of interaction. As Pope John XXIII considered convening Vatican II, he was greatly concerned about all this new media.3 It surely was no accident that the bishops at the Second Vatican Council chose December 4, 1963 to release their first documents.4 As the four hundredth anniversary of the closing of the Council of Trent, the bishops used the date to signal their view of the Council as the latest chapter in the Catholic Church’s ongoing transformation in dialogue with culture, a dialogue seen clearly in the new liturgy. Yet, while Sacrosanctum Concilium is often remembered as the first document from Vatican II, it actually shares the honor with another document: the Decree on the Media of Social Communications, Inter Mirifica. While this timing was essentially an accident, their promulgation together is poetic and even symbolic. The Councils of Trent and Vatican II show us not merely that cultural change and liturgical change go hand in hand, but also that media change can instigate both. It is certainly important that ministers, liturgists, and theologians continue to consider the relationship between liturgy and contemporary media, especially in light of the social dominance of entertainment culture borne by the second wave of media change. However, it is also incumbent upon us to turn our minds forward to begin to think more fully about the changes that lie ahead of us. We are, after all, living in the midst of the third wave of media change: the advent of digital information and communication technologies (ICTs). We are far enough into the digital revolution to begin to see some fundamental cultural shifts occurring as digital media transform ways in which people socialize, learn, work, understand, and entertain themselves. Indeed, while traditional categories of entertainment still exist, we are moving into a media landscape in which these are no longer distinct. With the advent of “gamification”—giving digital “achievement” rewards for completing even the most humble tasks—work, play, relationships, education, and entertainment live increasingly in the same space.5 Fifty years down the road, we have a good sense of how the second wave of media has affected culture. As a result we can respond in our congregations, retranslating the liturgy to use what is enlivening and resist what is destructive. In contrast, we are just beginning to perceive the trends of third wave media. The relational, spiritual, physical, and spatial landscape is still developing, and our understanding of how this will impact liturgy will be evolving for some time. At the same time, it is possible to begin to discern some ways in which digital media are transforming some of our basic sensibilities. If history is any guide, these changes will require that we retranslate the medium that is liturgy so that it maintains its ability to mediate the experience of God. “Full, conscious, and active participation”—be it in v 8 v liturgy or life—will remain paramount, but they may very well mean something new as we move deeper into the transformations of the digital revolution.6 Curation and Active Participation One factor that is emerging as a primary element in the digital media revolution is curation. Curation is the use of human or machine intelligence to filter information, symbols, and experiences in order to focus attention on items that are most relevant for a particular audience or audience member. Curation is an old and likely familiar idea that has always played a large part in media. The first wave of media change transformed the world by reducing the time and costs associated with printing, increasing accessibility of texts, from Bibles to broadsides. The second wave of media change further expanded access to information and communication with the addition of television and radio. The catch to all this access, however, was a high level of curation. In the print and electronic media worlds, curation effectively constricted what was published: publishers had catalog limitations, newspapers had page limits, television shows had limited time slots, and all were beholden to advertisers. In practice, this often meant that opportunities for critical and opposing viewpoints could be quite limited. In response to the limiting role of curation in the first and second wave of media change, the rhetoric of the early days of the digital revolution portrayed curation as a critical problem that technology would finally solve. As Stuart Brand put it, the cost of making ideas public is becoming so low that “information wants to be free.”7 We can now know whatever we want, whenever we want. With the need for curators out of the way, all voices can be heard in the new democracy of information. Unfortunately, this only turned out to be partially true. With this explosion of content came a new problem: information overload. We are overrun with news, blogs, YouTube videos, Facebook walls, photo streams, independent music, social networking, email, news, indie films, books, correspondence, and websites. As a result, we are returning to curation as a basic survival skill. Rather than wade through absolutely everything, we set up systems so that all we see is what we want to know about. We choose news portals and Twitter feeds. We subscribe to email alerts. We choose social networking sites to keep up with our friends and trending topics. We have become accustomed to—if not dependent upon—these modern curators, and in the process, accustomed to the way that the world is shaped by them. Notably, curation is also central to liturgy. The lectionary, after all, is the Bible curated to emphasize particular parts of salvation history and God’s revelation. The ordo and sacramentary curate prayer styles, creating a normative set of practices for valid Catholic worship. Prerequisites for ordination and ministerial training curate the community by barring some people from ministry, shaping our experience power and authority. Like all curation, these practices shape our conceptual horizons and spiritual practices. As a result, its power is immense. Increased level of comfort with and dependence upon curation practices among American Christians is likely to have a significant impact on the levels v 9 v to which they choose to participate actively in liturgy. This impact runs along a number of lines, but centers on the continuing question of whether or not liturgy will remain a primary curator of meaning and mediation in the Christian life. One important factor in liturgy’s ability to act as a curator involves people’s desire to play an active role in the selection and creation of curation mechanisms. These days, we choose particular shows to download rather than take what the networks give us. We set up our own RSS feeds and email updates rather than let others filter information. This stands in contrast to traditional liturgical traditions in the U.S., where people have little opportunity for meaningful contribution to the focus of worship. In a Catholic parish I attended in El Salvador in the early 1990s, nearly half of the ninety minute long homily was comprised of comments offered by members of the congregation. But here in the U.S., liturgical curation tends to follow the popular parenting phrase, “you get what you get and you don’t get upset.” This approach will become increasingly unfamiliar to people as the third wave of media change progresses. Another important factor to contend with is increased competition among institutions that want to act as curators. There was a time when there were not a lot of curators of worldviews. There were churches, governments, news agencies, and educational institutions. Now, curators are innumerable. Television networks, film-makers, politicians, preachers, bloggers, corporations, and celebrities vie to shape the way we think and act, and many are more compelling than your average parish. Even within Christianity there is immense competition, with voices loud and soft ranging from mainstream to the fringe and everywhere in-between. It is easy to lose sight of the local community as a locus for active engagement amidst all the hew and cry. A third factor that affects liturgy’s influence as a primary curator is the centrality of trust in the choice of curators. Legal scholar Daniel Solove’s work suggests that the trust relationship is emerging as the central dynamic in contemporary connective lives.8 As with personal information, people select curators that provide good information and engaging connections, that provide value for cost, and most importantly have demonstrated that they have people’s best interests at heart. In short, people choose curators they trust. Trust, however, is a complicated matter. The opacity of many purveyors of media and information leads people to trust organizations that really don’t merit it. Unfortunately, trustworthiness is not always in abundant supply in churches today. Within my own Catholic tradition, the confidence of longtime parishoners has been shaken by painful decisions to close schools and parishes as well as high profile news items like the recent convictions of Msgr. William Lynn in Philadelphia and Bishop Robert Finn on various charges relating to clergy sexual abuse.9 Along the way, trust has eroded. The growth in personal curation as a pervasive factor in peoples’ media saturated lives suggests that there are challenges ahead for churches that want to establish—or re-establish—liturgy as a primary curator. Given the intense competition and the complexity of trust, we should expect people to turn to curators other than churches. People see YouTube, Facebook, and Twitter as adding significant value by filtering reality. Yet, it also suggests that such a trend is not a foregone conclusion. People want to actively engage v 10 v with information and media that entertains and informs them. They are seeking good curators who they can trust to provide it to them. We know that liturgy possesses a great power to act as a master curator by establishing a primary framework for interpreting human experience. There is no reason that churches cannot do what Fulton Sheen, Billy Graham, and Mother Angelica did during the second wave of media change, namely use today’s media to engage people in the death and resurrection of Jesus. If we can do that, liturgy will continue to have a place in the curated life. Constant Connection and Full Participation A second factor emerging as a constituent element in the digital media revolution is what we might call constant connection. Constant connection is the practice of maintaining engagement with media and social networks throughout one’s waking hours. Some of our connection time involves maintaining close relationships. For instance, as of the third quarter of 2011, teens between the ages of 12 and 17 sent and received an average of 167 texts a day.10 Other connection time is taken up with the diversion of broad social networks. As of the summer of 2011, Facebook users spent more than 700 billion minutes per month on the site; that’s an average of 933 minutes per month, per person.11 But a great deal of our connection time still involves traditional entertainment media. In 2011, American adults spent an average of 11 hours and 33 minutes per day with major media, often multi-tasking. We spent 4:34 hours with television and video, 2:47 hours with traditional media via the internet, 1:34 hours with radio, and 1:05 hours using media on mobile devices.12 No question: we are plugged in all the time. In broad outlines, constant connection will be another familiar idea to Christians, not merely as a media reality, but as a theological one as well. The Christian vision of the human person is founded not in isolation, but in the fundamentally social nature of human beings. Love and commitment, friendship and relationality, and finding one’s place within community are necessary components of the full human life, one marked by integral human development. To me, this is part of the genius of the local community, especially as it is expressed in the parish model of my spiritual home, Roman Catholicism. Rather than favor an ecclesial structure that encouraged a voluntarist stance toward church choice, Catholicism chose a geographical approach. You worship where you live with the people you live with. The people next to you in the pew are the same people you see at the store, or at the beauty salon, and the schoolyard. The faith community exists not just on Sunday, but every day. This close connection between family, social circle, neighborhood, and Church is becoming more of a historical artifact every day. As we’ve become more mobile, our neighborhoods have become more diverse. You are unlikely to find the Norwegian Lutheran town or the urban neighborhood full of Italian Catholics. The people we see on the block are not necessarily the people we see on Sunday. We can no longer rely on geography alone for connection, so we have developed a variety of connection strategies to fill our lives with people and information, many of which depend upon our gadgets. v 11 v Undoubtedly, our practices of constant connection will impact the ways in which Christians participate in liturgical worship. For instance, it seems likely that worshippers will expect liturgies to facilitate much more robust personal connections. To be clear here, I am not suggesting some kind of desire for cheap sentimentality and crass emotionality—ways of mimicking experience without really experiencing anything. Rather, as constant connection becomes normative, people will increasingly expect full and authentic engagement in liturgy that befits the social nature of the human person. Theologically, this makes sense: liturgy and sacrament aim to heal the rift between the person and God. Ultimately, they are about grace, about union with God in the midst of the assembled Body of Christ. For those who are constantly connected, liturgies with generic sermons, shallow music, rote recitation of prayers, cheap and easy connections to popular culture, and people nodding off or doing personal devotions can be a profoundly disconnected place. Additionally, it also seems likely that worshippers will want fuller connections between the Sunday liturgy and the many moments of love, sacrament, and sacrifice throughout their lives. Part of what made parishes healthy in the heyday of American Catholicism was the perpetual contact that threw people together inside and outside of church. In the late twentieth century, Americans lost some of that connectedness. As digital technologies are making the biggest city feel like a small town, people are beginning to expect it again. To use the categories of Karl Rahner, people will want to experience the connections between the “the Mass of the church” and the “Mass of life.”13 There is a great opportunity here to reweave the tapestry of parish life if we are willing to rearticulate the structure of what that looks in ways that draw upon the strengths of ICTs. At the same time, we need to be realistic: it is entirely likely that people will also find it increasingly difficult to do their part in connecting in the liturgy. Constant connection through technology is forming many people in what some refer to as “continuous partial attention”: the inability to fully focus on anything fully for very long.14 We see this every week when people check their cell phone during Sunday worship. Many people’s technology practices militate against the kind of deep and sustained attention and engagement that the liturgy requires. Ministers can be too quick to blame congregants when poor liturgy is greeted with poor participation, yet asking people to pay attention for an entire hour is asking a lot these days. We are becoming used to connections, but haven’t necessarily developed the habits needed to maintain deep ones. All the liturgical retranslating in the world won’t help people join together in authentic worship if we are unable to authentically attend to one another and God. Self-Instrumentalization and Conscious Participation A third factor that is emerging as a primary element in the digital media revolution is what we might call normatization of consenting instrumentalization of the human person, or self-instrumentalization for short. In May 2012, the business world saw the Initial Public Offering of one of the most influential v 12 v software companies in the world: Facebook. With its social media site, Facebook could be said to be in the business of connecting people. That would, however, be using the term “business” quite loosely. IPOs are about providing shareholder value, not friendship. In those terms, Facebook is in the business of selling advertisements. More specifically, Facebook is in the business of selling that are tailored specifically for users based on information that they have freely disclosed: demographic information, group affiliations, likes and dislikes, and online activity when connected to the system. The crux of the matter, however, is not that Facebook has advertisements. Ads are nothing new. What sets Facebook (and companies like it) apart from other software companies is that the users are not the customers. Facebook makes it money not from people using the site, but by providing your data to advertisers. All that social networking stuff is merely the machinery that manufactures information for their real customers: ad buyers. You are not the customer. You are the raw material; the natural resource consumed in the ad production process. The emergence in the tech world of business models grounded in the instrumentalization of the human person has led virtual reality pioneer Jaron Lanier to exclaim, “you are not a gadget!”15 This puts him in good company, historically speaking. Immanuel Kant rejected the same idea in one of his formulations of the categorical imperative. Karl Marx called attention to it in his labor theory of value. And it sits very uneasily with the ethic of Jesus. Treating people as means rather than ends necessarily impinges upon their dignity as human persons, rending authentic relationality and transforming the other from subject to object. It is for these reasons that Christians have worked for the rights of objectified and marginalized people around the world. Unfortunately, Lanier is a lone voice in the tech world. Selfinstrumentalization has become widely accepted as part of the cost of participation in the digital world. In large measure, this is the result of what seems to be a skewed perception of the relationship between the cost of disclosing personal information and the benefits of technology.16 People are willing to act as natural resources because they fear living without constant connection. Indeed, we are so comfortable with self-instrumentalization that we are not even conscious that we are doing it. Its probably fair to say that we have been heading in this direction for years. Self-instrumentalization has been a staple of the entertainment industry at least since explosion of “reality television” in the early 1990s. People’s lives, intimate interactions, fears, hopes, and crushing defeats are commodities to be exchanged for a moment of notoriety as television companies count profits from the sidelines. And as Jaques Ellul and Peter Berger warned decades ago, the further we move into a technological productive system, the more difficult it becomes to think about ourselves or the world in any way that does not have instrumental reason as its core.17 Instrumental reason may have been crowned during the industrial revolution, but technology has brought it home in the form of tiny, daily practices that seem insignificant, yet have huge ramifications. This increasing comfort with self-instrumentalization will transform participation in liturgical worship in a number of ways, but perhaps most v 13 v strongly by challenging the underlying rationality schemes at the heart of the liturgy itself. In part, adopting a primarily instrumental understanding of the value of the human person affects the subject pole of the liturgical event, the person involved in liturgical prayer. By understanding the human person as raw material to be exchanged for benefits, we run the risk of forfeiting the anthropological undergirding of the liturgy: namely that we are beings imbued with dignity, uniqueness, and lovability who, simultaneously, are in need of reconciliation. The liturgy is set deeply within an understanding of a God who desires relation with humankind not as an event of production, but as an event of love and gift. To lose conscious connection to love and gift risks rendering the liturgy un-relatable by divorcing it from the Paschal Mystery. Adopting a primarily instrumental understanding of human value also affects the object pole of the liturgical event, namely the liturgy itself. In a context pervaded by self-instrumentalization, it is not a huge leap in logic to begin to understand liturgy not as some sort of authentic response, sacramental encounter, or just recompense to God, but rather as a kind of technology itself. With its controlled forms, limited variations, modular structure, and bureaucratic oversight, there is a strong family resemblance. Liturgy is a regular, standardized, and repeatable procedure that reliably produces particular outcomes given the correct inputs. In effect, liturgy can appear to be a machine for the production of grace. Certainly, this profoundly misses the point of liturgy. It is also unlikely to be a compelling model to draw people into ongoing participation in the life of the Church. Conclusion: How Can I Put It? In his novel Echo, Jack McDevitt makes the observation that “truth comes in two formats: insights, and collisions with reality.”18 For many people, the third wave of media change certainly feels more like the latter than the former. This essay has sought to identify some initial dynamics that Christian churches are colliding with as digital technologies powerfully reshape American life. The practically-minded among you have likely noticed the major topic that is absent from this essay, namely specific recommendations for liturgical reforms that should be made in response to the digital media revolution. Such recommendations are absent not due to some accident or a lack of thoughts on the subject. Rather, they are absent because it is not clear to me that we know enough yet about the emerging changes to make significant revisions to the liturgy in a responsible manner. Some churches have explored the use of digital technologies as part of their ministries like parish websites, prayer emails, and digital tithing, but few have deeply engaged broader questions of transformation of meaning structures and identity. The same goes for scholars, who—with several notable exceptions—tend to ignore new media or reject it out of hand.19 To understand the way in which liturgy will be pushed, pulled, twisted, and reshaped, we need to understand the ways in which human beings are being pushed, pulled, twisted, and reshaped by digital media much more deeply than we do. We all have a lot of work to do. v 14 v Importantly, an understanding of digital media culture is vital not just for liturgy, but for the broader world as well. Christianity has a role to play in helping people develop life-giving habits of media use: habits of asking questions and looking beyond the trending stories, of authentic connection with the self and others, of paying attention for extended periods of time, of recognizing the inherent dignity of all, of silence amidst distraction, and of solidarity with those pushed to the technological margins. Indeed, the Church has a good deal to say about full, conscious, and active participation in life, not just the liturgy. Ultimately, we may find that what lies at the heart of contemporary information and communication technology is a failed and faulty vision of the world. In either case, Christian churches need to offer a compelling and powerful imagination to provide the center of life that technology does not afford. Such a vision can only emerge from the heart of worship and can only be apprehended by those who know the language. The bottom line is that, like it or not, these technologies have found a home in our culture because people find value in them. It is left up to today’s keepers of the liturgical traditions to do as the bishops at Trent and Vatican II did: rephrase the liturgy for our new context.20 James F. Caccamo is an associate professor of Theology at Saint Joseph’s University in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. He is coauthor of the multimedia resource Living Worship: A Multimedia Resource for Students and Leaders Notes 1. James White, Roman Catholic Liturgy: Trent to Today (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 2003), 99. 2. Media theorist Clay Shirky puts it well when he says that movable type did not cause the Protestant Reformation, but that the Reformation was not possible without it. See Here Comes Everybody (New York: Penguin Press, 2008). 3. For an example of this concern, see Pope John XXIII’s 1959 Apostolic Letter Boni Pastoris, http://www.vatican.va/holy_father/john_xxiii/motu_proprio/documents/hf_j-xxiii_motu-proprio_ 22021959_boni-pastoris_en.html (Accessed July 10, 2012). 4. White, Roman Catholic Liturgy, xiii. 5. On gamification as a way of life, see Jane McGonigal, Reality Is Broken: Why Games Make Us Better and How They Can Change the World (New York: Penguin Press, 2011). 6 . Second Vatican Council, Sacrosanctum Concilium, 1963. http://www.vatican.va/archive/hist_ councils/ii_vatican_council/documents/vat-ii_const_19631204_sacrosanctum-concilium_en.html (Accessed July 28, 2012), 12. The text as quoted is the generally accepted way in which the original Latin text should translated. It is notable, however, that the Vatican’s current official English translation reads “fully conscious, and active participation.” 7. Stuart Brand, “Discussion from the Hacker’s Conference, November 1984,” Whole Earth Review, 46 (May 1985); 49. 8. Daniel Solove. The Future of Reputation (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2007). 9. John P. Martin and Joseph A. Slobodzian, “Jury Convicts Lynn of One Count, Deadlocks on Brennan,” The Philadelphia Inquirer, June 24, 2012, http://articles.philly.com/2012-06-24/news/32382871_ 1_priests-cardinal-anthony-j-bevilacqua-district-attorney-seth-williams (Accessed September 13, 2012). Mark Morris and Judy L. Thomas, “Bishop Finn Is Found Guilty of Failing to Report Child Abuse Suspicions,” The Kansas City Star, September 6, 2012. http://www.kansascity.com/2012/09/06/ 3800269/bishop-finn-verdict-guilty.html (Accessed September 13, 2012). 10. Amanda Lenhart, Teens, Smartphones & Texting, Pew Research Center’s Internet and American Life Project, March 19, 2012, 12. Http://pewinternet.org/Reports/2012/Teens-and-smartphones.aspx (Accessed June 18, 2012). 11. Facebook. Http://www.facebook.com/press/info.php?statistics (Accessed August 26, 2011). v 15 v 12 . eMarketer Digital Intelligence, TV, Mobile See Gains in Viewing Time, December 12, 2011. Http://www.emarketer.com/Article.aspx?R=1008728 (Accessed May 18, 2012). 13. Karl Rahner, The Christian Commitment, trans. by Cecily Hastings (New York: Sheed and Ward,1963), 146f. 14. S. Craig Watson, The Young and the Digital (Boston: Beacon Press, 2009), 168. On related issues, see also Howard Rheingold, Net Smart (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 2012), 44-49. 15. Jaron Lanier. You Are Not a Gadget: A Manifesto (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 2010). 16. On the complex relationship between privacy concern and self-disclosure online, see Adam N. Joinson, Ulf-Dietrich Reips, Tom Buchanan, and Carina B. Paine Schofield, “Privacy, Trust, and SelfDisclosure Online,” Human–Computer Interaction 25 (2010): 1–24. 17. Peter Berger, Brigitte Berger, and Hansfried Kellner, The Homeless Mind (New York: Vintage Books, 1973) and Jaques Ellul, The Technological Society (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1965). 18. Jack McDevitt, Echo, Kindle E-Pub Edition (New York: Berkely Publishing Group/Penguin, 2010), chapter 19, page 1. 19 . Several compelling exceptions that deserve wider attention include Richard Gaillardetz’s exploration of mediated relationships in Transforming Our Days: Spirituality, Community, and Liturgy in a Technological Culture (New York: Crossroad, 2000); Vincent Miller’s exploration of consumerism and gadgets in “The iPod, the Cell Phone, and the Church: Discipleship, Consumer Culture, and a Globalized World,” Getting On Message (Boston: Beacon Press, 2006), 173-191; and Albert Borgmann’s reflections on technologies and focal practices in Technology and the Character of Contemporary Life (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1984). 20. This article was developed with the generous support of the Louisville Institute and their Sabbatical Grant for Researchers program. v 16 v