More about the church blog

 Today, it's official: the blog is up and running, and officially accepted. I didn't expect that—thought it would be seen as some sort of rebellion or something. But no, it's all smiles and congratulations from several people who really count. Now let's see if it works.

And the blog

So the church website is still live, though the information is very outdated (and some of it was wrong in the first place). Daniel seems to think that maintaining it is his responsibility, though he does not know the passwords and does not have the equipment or expertise. There is, however, a button to take readers to the church blog, and I can do things with that. So I did. Fixed a few old issues about incorrect links, got a cheery theme, and put together three user-friendly posts. Ran the thing by Dale Traven and Melissa Phillips. (They loved it.) Dale said I should run it by Daniel, so I did.

The reaction was a very cold non-approval. I'm writing this on Saturday evening, and Daniel wants to have a talk about it this coming week. I really expect he will tell me to take it down because:

• Daniel didn't write those items
• Nothing went through a Vestry committee (and probably each entry will need that process)
• And the unspoken idea that it's OK to reach out to people who are very far away from Shelby (Tanzania or Nicaragua), but we're quite uncomfortable with asking locals to visit.

July 4, 2026

 Just a couple of weeks ago, I walked in the Pride Parade with St. Matthew's and Grace Episcopal; Fr. Hofer generously took pictures that really highlighted me and posted them online. I'm waiting for the Shelby blow-back.

Still no real thinking about keeping the parish rolling. They are very Shelby, participating enthusiastically in Bicycle Days, etc., but no effort whatsoever to either grow the parish or to ensure their survival. (I notice as I write this that it's all "they" not "us.") What can happen? For a very low-impact beginning, at least do something about the website and let me start writing a blog again. There really are some visitors from time to time.

For deeper stuff, consider answers to some serious questions:

• What have we got that the neighbor churches don't have? (One possibility is "welcome to LGBTQI+ people," but that would absolutely lose two or three members. It's what is saving both Grace and Ashland, though, and it's part of the ECUSA (which probably explains why Shelby isn't too thrilled with the ECUSA.)
• Old Spokes is a tremendous asset, but the church does nothing to capitalize on it.
• All that Champion Fund money is anonymous (or nearly so). The checks vanish into a void. Ditto for the Ignited ministry. We send out the money, but we never invite those people to become part of us.

We need to answer some very basic questions: "Why should I come to this church rather than one of the others?" "Why should I come to church at all?" 

Note: In the past and in many Baptist churches, growth came from the Sunday School. Parents wanted some sort of moral upbringing for their kids and the Baptist church was very willing to bring them in by bus and do a program. Then the kids wanted their parents to come to Christmas pageants, etc. And then the parents ended up in the church. And, not to be discounted, when a 12-year-old kid falls in love with the church, there's a possibility that in ten years he will want to be there with a spouse and his own kids. St. Mark's Shelby won't cooperate with other Episcopal churches that way because they aren't in Shelby. Much better to send kids to the local Catholic church, so in effect, we are feeding the local Catholic parish. 

Four years later

Nobody reads this besides me, and that's OK.

For about a year now, Kay and Joe have been gone. That was an odd exit. Their house has been sold and they have moved to be closer to their offspring, which is totally understandable. One thing which always discombobulated me was Kay's attitude toward me after my exit from St. Matthew’s. If a valued church member who volunteered everywhere (and gave a lot of money) suddenly left without much warning, it seems rational to expect a clergy person to come up with one (or more) responses:

• What happened here? Why are you going?
• Are you OK? Is there some personal tragedy driving this? Health? Finances?
• Are you angry? What set you off?
• Did someone in the church say something offensive? Do we need some sort of reconciliation?
• I didn't think you would take it that way. Let's see if we can heal the relationship.

None of that happened. The best summary of Kay’s attitude was “Don’t let the door hit your ass on the way out.”

Then things got weird. After a couple of years had passed, she would come up to me (at the gym, mainly) and be all smiles and positivity. No hint of any split between us; no attempt at a reconciliation. It was all sweetness and light. I always sort of smiled and tried to edge my way out. I suspect that was all part of the gaslighting narcissim working its way out.

A couple of years have passed. The diocese (rather clumsily) attempted to push the idea of a Triad of Ashland, Mansfield, and Shelby joining to share two priests. It didn’t work.

1. Mansfield and Ashland lost their priests, and they knew that they would have to do something and do it quick. Shelby deludes themselves into thinking that Daniel will be there more or less forever, half his pay supplied by the Food Pantry.
2. Ashland and Mansfield are very welcoming to LGBTQI+ people; Shelby still thinks gay people do not belong in church leadership. The new priest is gay.
3. The focus of St. Mark’s is very SHELBY. They are not at all thrilled by the Episcopal denomination; they are much more focused on things such as Shelby Salvation Army and the local Catholic church. If it is not Shelby, it’s outsiders.
4. The same holy dozen have been sitting in the pews for years, so they assume they can keep going indefinitely.

Looking back, it was pretty inevitable that Mansfield and Ashland would join together and Shelby would stay aloof. Shelby has no sense of need and has a raging independence.

I know some things they do not know. I know that Daniel will not be funded by the Food Pantry after December 2026. I know that of the dozen regulars, only two families are currently employed; all the rest are retired. These people (including me) are old. I know that the Masonic Lodge approach (“To be one, ask one”) of anonymous checks to good causes does not grow the church. I know that St. Mark’s does not offer anything particularly unique to Shelby—there is really no good reason for it to survive.

I also know that my reasons for going to Shelby were all related to a need to escape Kay Ashby. She is gone now. I honestly believe that the Shelby church has about 24 months to go. I know that I want a church where I can be out and where I can feel like I am not stuck in a small Bible study group. I keep looking for a trigger event, but more likely the church will simply erode away.

Three years later

This all went to sleep (and it was a good idea) after the discussion of the exit from the Ashland church. I decided to simply leave cold turkey, so I never lingered around, giving explanations to people or complaining or anything like that. Most of the people there never got a word of explanation from me, though I know that Sharon Broeder's dying wish was that I would return and Andi Shifley was in tears, begging me to reconsider. I didn't want to start any kind of political battle.

So I've been gone for three years. Occasionally there's a death and a memorial service and I return and see old friends. I always have good times with the Reeds and others and get cold shoulders from the nuns.

Soon after I left, a new treasurer was appointed, a woman who had corporate experience and was brand new to the parish. We met to go over all the stuff I had been doing, and she was full of praise for my diligence. She lasted about a year, then got forced out. After she left the parish, three of us got together: her, me, and Allan Andersen. We traded stories about how toxic the priest was—and I remembered some of the ugly stuff from when Allan and Mike McKinley were negotiating the lease with the Montessori people in the basement. All the accusations that were flung at them. 

Anyhow, all that is behind. I'm in a good place now, and I don't expect to ever be on a Vestry or serve as a treasurer. Shelby has become a good home.

Almost

I began a blog series of responses to the corona virus and at first I planned on putting it all here. Then I thought again. I'm planning on publishing the address and this has a lot of negativity about St. Matthew's, so I finally put it all on "Curt's Trail." Better choice.

Back again

My very Protestant tradition never emphasized giving up anything for Lent. I never dreamed that this year for Lent I would give up both my health and organized religion.

That's the way it worked out.

I got sick just after Ash Wednesday, and Holy Saturday was the first day I remember getting out of bed and feeling pretty OK. A few aches and pains, and a lingering cough, but in general I'm about 99% back to normal in health. The main lingering problems are that 40 days of near-total inactivity have taken their toll on my muscle tone and strength. I look like a little old man. Now I need to do a self-enforced physical therapy regimen.

Ash Wednesday was also my last day at St. Matthew's. Just after that, I decided I had finally had it and submitted my "I'm outta here" letter. Of course, it couldn't be that neat and pretty: Ever since then, for several hours a week, I've been involved in church business, unwinding my many involvements with the church. But in general I'm done. For the duration (largely because of health and depression) I simply had nothing to do with organized religion. All during this time, Daniel Orr, the priest of the church in Shelby, has been sending very welcome emails asking about my health and welfare. I don't think he was trying to recruit me; his interest in my well-being seemed very genuine. The result, though, was that the first time I pulled myself together to get to church was Easter, when I ended up in Shelby.

Sick day

Today (Monday) I finally took a sick day. My sister said, "You never do that!" True, but I had a pretty good fever on Sunday, so I cancelled. Today it's mainly aches and a cough. Hope I'm back together by Wednesday.

Today, with some distance on the thing, I began pondering the teaching ministry of St. Matthew's. Adult Sunday School never happened. I suggested it several times, but the response was that (a) everyone is over 80 and it's asking a lot just to get them to church by 10, and (b) many of them are out of here like a bullet out of a gun with the last hymn, and besides, you couldn't do a lesson after coffee hour! I have noticed, though, that Lenten evening lessons were well received, so it's not a universal allergy.

There's been a children's Sunday school, off and on, for years, but apparently the focus is entirely on getting them up to speed on the Sunday liturgy.

One result is a real biblical illiteracy. I remember when someone handed a Bible to a Vestry member and asked her to read something from Mark. She was totally lost. Had no idea where to find it.

I think this is the fruit of Bishop Spong. If one believes the Bible is a bunch of foolishness, why make it a centerpiece of the church's teaching?

So why did I stay? Well for one thing, there is Bible spread all through the morning liturgy; it's not like Grace Fellowship, where the Bible reading was "my favorite three verses that I read a couple of weeks ago anyhow." For another, in spite of Kay's personal attacks, I did get three or four chances a year to preach or teach. I really did think I could improve things, though my preaching was almost always on "Morning Prayers" days when only 18 people would show up.

Slogging along

Yesterday, I quickly read over a couple of years of personal journal entries. I'm amazed at the similarities I find, especially in springtime (mid-March and slightly later) entries:

• The weather sucks. It's grey, rainy/snowy/icy and I don't feel like going anywhere.
• I'm sick.
• Teaching a bunch of low-skills students who do not give a hoot about the subject is frustrating.
• I'm lonely.

Can't do much about the weather. I'm not sure what to say about the sick part, though some of it is certainly related to emotions. (My nurse/practitioner thinks SAD, Seasonal Affective Disorder, might be worth looking into.)

Lonely is an ongoing problem, not too likely to go away, but I'm going to push myself to take myself out on dates, etc. (especially after the current health problem calms down).

Obsessing over wrongs. I tend to do that, licking old wounds. Sometimes it has to be done. Doing it now. But eventually I need to stop—perhaps to be forceable about it because it's an addiction.

Boring students, bored teacher. My 8:00 class yesterday was sort of an illustration. This gang never has been great at attendance, but when 8 came around there were three. A few more drifted in. I think the real key here is:

1. Don't take it personally. Some of these kids are in their last two months of college and they know it.
2. Do some content that I think is fun and interesting. Some of the students will come along. The rest are lost anyhow.

---

One interesting discovery was that, after a particularly strong public rebuke from the priest, I was asking myself whether I should simply leave the parish.

On Criticizing the Church

I guess I'm still in the phase of reverberating. I don't know if my exit from St. Matthew's is permanent, and I certainly don't know if I am permanently walking away from the whole Episcopal Church. I do notice, however, that the administrators of the Episcopalians on Facebook page have urged people to moderate their personal attacks. Kay's attacks on me aren't the only ones, but they were pretty strong. I'm not going to put this material on Facebook—too risky—but here is my estimate of a hierarchy of personal/corporate attack:

1. John Doe is an idiot. Definitely out of line, whether it's "he's an idiot" or "you're an idiot." The writer should face some sort of censure.
2. John Doe said/did stupid things. This one is borderline. If the "John Doe" is a local private person, definitely out of line, but what about public national figures? If Bishop Spong has published a book with which I disagree? I think the key here is to address issues, not personalities. Bishop Spong might be a fine person, but it's the content of the book that should be addressed.
3. My parish/diocese did stupid things. Again, out of line because it's often an appeal to get some sort of majority opinion to override the local decisions. If the Vestry decided that the Sanctuary Lamp should have a red glass and you wanted a blue one, complaining on Facebook isn't the right avenue.
4. I don't understand. (OK—maybe I will post this one.) I've gotten barbecued—repeatedly—for just not knowing stuff. Sixty-four years of Presbyterianism followed by eight years of Episcopalianism mean that I constantly run afoul of the old-time correctness police. But this is not a sign that I hate the church. Even education in a Protestant seminary did not prepare me to know that "Mass" is an appropriate term for the Sunday morning event, that "acolytes" are not necessarily pre-teen children (though all the pictures one finds of acolytes depict them this way), or that "sanctuary" is the wrong word for the big room where the congregation sits on pews and sings hymns. It's not a sign that I disrespect (or even hate) the church; it's a sign that when I write, I work from previous experience and often do not know that I must consult the Episcopalian Dictionary to clean up my act.

Pleurisy

Self-diagnosis with the Internet is always risky, but this one seems to work. I've had pain while breathing (right side only) for about a week and a half now, along with fever, weakness, and a general weariness. Diarrhea too. Finally looked it up. Most common cause is viral and they recommend bed rest, acetaminophen, and fluids. Well, that's what I've been doing, and the pills seem to help.

Yesterday I was totally off my feet, but today is a bit better. I never stay home from work. Maybe tomorrow I will make an exception. Been fighting this thing for nearly two weeks now, but it hit a climax (of course) the night before the fateful church confrontation. Feeling a bit better now.

Gotta fix this blog

Looking around, there's a LOT of housekeeping I need to do! I think I'll send links to one or two friends, and I want it to be up-to-date, at least with links and such.

Beginning Again Again Again

Wow. All the years that have passed. One of the most surprising things is that it is about eight years, almost to the day, since I began my journey in the Episcopal Church. And it is now about 24 hours since I ended it.

I'm certain that nobody will read this blog, so it can be a very personal journal—and that's why I'm not deleting any of the old files either.

Reason for the exit: Beginning about 15 months ago, the priest (aided sometimes by one of her closest colleagues) has been carrying on an increasing campaign of personal attack. The final week, I got hit three times, and for very minimal reasons. (She launched a "prophylactic" attack in a meeting because she wanted me to look up some numbers and she figured I needed a fire built under me; I did not instantly respond to a request for a computer password; and finally I mentioned on Facebook that I had suggested a way to save money, then gave up when I realized my idea was unworkable.)

Three odd fall-outs from all this:

1. I've never been truly happy with her content-free sermons; only yesterday in doing some research on our terrible history did I learn that she's a fan of Bishop Spong, the guy who thinks the Apostles' Creed and the Bible are a bunch of foolishness. Hmmm.
2. I'm wondering what will happen when they figure out that 10% of their pledge money just walked out the door.
3. My exit was accomplished with a strongly-worded hand-delivered typed letter that laid the blame squarely at her feet. Twenty-four hours have passed. Not a peep from her. Not a "we need to talk" or a "gosh I didn't realize you took it that way" or even a "how dare you?" Total silence.

---

Now what? Allan Andersen (bless his heart) texted me to ask how I was doing. I told him we could talk after a while, and he accepted that. (We will need to anyhow because I've shoved the job of church treasurer into his lap.) My sister Melissa and my friend Paul in Colorado have been enormous sources of support and strength.

So now, for the time being, I'm going to lie low and do some healing, both emotional and physical. This has been a very difficult few weeks.

Textbooks Again

Well apparently my secretary succeeded in extracting a textbook from the salesperson. Two actually—an 8th edition (which I already had) and a 9th.

Now I'm moving forward to the next course. What book? There's one I like! Simple, easy to figure out, and covers all the bases nicely! Only about ¼ inch thick.

Fifty-three dollars? (OK—Amazon wants a lot less, but the college bookstore will go with the list price.)

Now you know why I normally do all the rhetoric in online posts.

College Textbooks

I just had the runaround with Pearson Higher Ed (a textbook publisher). I usually don't use printed textbooks, but this summer is a literature course and more than one student has said that a printed book (rather than online) would help.

Now I would think that Pearson would be glad to be helpful to me. After all, I'm an unpaid sales representative for their company. I'm delivering them an $1800 sale without any real effort on their part. All they have to do is cooperate.

All I want is a desk copy of the textbook so I can make assignments. I went to their website. I need to register to do anything whatsoever. When I enter my e-mail address, I discover that I'm already registered. They send me a cunning little 31-letter code. I enter it. Now I need my password. I only use two different passwords for sites like this one, so I try one, then the other. Neither works. I look for customer service. All of the customer service links require that password. Finally I find the tech rep live chat. Yes, he can help me. No, I don't really exist in the system. All I have to do now is phone the sales person and have a chat with her. Then she'll give me the magic word that will enable me to sell their product to my students.

I'm seriously rethinking the whole idea of using this overpriced ($98) book.

Unexpected Benefit

I was pondering the church change this afternoon. My reasons for changing were sort of an accumulation of things—yes, there was a smoking gun, but there was also an accumulated weight of straws trying to break this camel's back. I wasn't expecting much from St. Matthew's though. About all I could foresee was attending every Sunday, quietly listening and participating, then slinking quietly back to my apartment.

That's not what happened.

The first couple of Sundays I discovered that several coworkers were in the congregation, that someone thought I'd be just great in the choir (haven't responded to that one yet) and that I was really welcome there.

St. Matthew's has an odd idea about volunteers. Grace Fellowship sees volunteering as a lifetime commitment, but at St. Matthew's a person can volunteer to do something once in a while. That means that there's essentially no screening process for someone to read a Bible verse. For another thing, the St. Matthew's question is whether the volunteer can do the work, not whether the volunteer is spiritually ready to do it or needs emotional validation. That's why I'm doing the St. Matthew's website but wasn't allowed to do the GFC website. I can do websites. That's a vote in my favor in Ashland, but a vote against me in Mansfield. The main reason Ashland wanted me to do a website was to get a website; in Mansfield, the main reason would be to make me some sort of officer—for a lifetime—of the church.

One Episcopalian oddity is that it takes an enormous number of people to make things happen, and there are always openings in the cadre of volunteers. On any given Sunday, we need at least someone to read the Bible, someone to help with communion, a couple of people to pass the offering plates, and someone to put the after-church meal together. Then there are the ushers, the Sunday school teacher (only a few kids), and the people who clean the church. And the choir. If we had a few teenagers, we'd have torch-bearers, too. Grace gets along just fine with a couple of ushers. Yes, there are musicians, the PowerPoint person, the announcement reader, and the coffee person, but those tend to be lifetime jobs, not available for casual volunteers.

So the surprise is that the structure is incredibly permeable. There's a way for people to start being part of things almost immediately.

If you build it

The St. Matthew's website is now really finished. I spent most of Saturday getting it nailed down, and I think it's beautiful (and two or three friends agree).

Now the issue is Google (and Bing and Yahoo). Google apparently reindexes everything about every two weeks, and until that, we're stuck on the bottom of page six. They all have methods of submitting websites for consideration, but I think that's only a device to make the audience feel better. It doesn't seem to speed up the indexing process at all.

So now I get depressed, obsessively check the traffic reports, and try to tell myself that it's going to be OK. All that work and no result! Blogs have a very easy way to tell how much traffic (and where it comes from). I'm usually the only one who has looked at the church blog. (or this one)

Anyhow, my goal is to get the church somewhere on the first two pages if someone searches for "church ashland ohio" and at the top of the first page if someone searches for "episcopal church ashland ohio". Currently the denomination beats us. A listing of wedding fees beats us. An old newspaper article about which churches local politicians attend beats us.

I'm hoping to hit that goal by August 1 to catch people who might be moving to town to take new jobs. That gives me about 3½ months, which is about seven passes for reindexing. Google is incredibly specific, weird, and inscrutable about the characteristics that take one to the top of a list, but I've got seven tries to figure it out.

The last indexing was twelve days ago, so I'm hoping to see some results this week.

Plagiarism and Christian Songs

A fairly common technique among the new wave of Christian song writers (Chris Tomlin and others have done this) is to take a familiar old hymn ("Amazing Grace" for example), write a new chorus, add a couple of words to the end of one of the verses, and claim that it's a new song. That's how Tomlin wrote "Amazing Grace (My Chains Are Gone)".

The old hymnals were more honest. They would give first credit to the original author of the majority of the song (John Newton, in this case) and secondary credit to the newcomer (chorus by Chris Tomlin).

Now an Australian court has upheld a plagiarism judgment against the group Men At Work because one of their songs lifted two measures of "Kookaburra Sits in the Old Gum Tree". It's worth millions of dollars in unpaid royalties. Note: It's two bars, not three quarters of the Men At Work song. Just two bars.

It would be nice if Christian morality were strict enough to give credit where credit is due.

Life Catches Up

Being sick, etc., I've fallen behind on my grading. Ashland has been off for "Spring" break this week (we have a pretty good ice storm today), and I finally have to get my act together and grade their papers. It's grueling work. Not that I have that many. There are fewer than two dozen, but they are all identical. The topic was to consider the qualities of their closest friends and discuss their similarities and their differences. Here is what I've learned so far:

1. My friends are always there for me. (One guy said that five times in two pages)
2. My friends are all totally unique. If I have three or four friends, each is totally unique. They are also very different.
3. No, I'm not willing to tell you what makes them unique, nor am I willing to discuss a time when a friend was "there for me." I'll just say it again.

These friendships seem to have absolutely no content whatsoever. When I get together with Joel, we usually discuss food, religion, and opera, though not in that order. I know that when I'm depressed and sad, I can phone him in the middle of the night and he will listen—sometimes even get me off topic. My students don't have any content to their friendships, and "being there for me" never seems to include, well, anything. Joel once put in a good word for me so I could get a summer job. He also helped with the gas money when we were going to that job.

I guess I should feel sorry for my students because they live such repetitive, boring, cliché lives. It's sad. Nothing specific ever happens to them. No great road trip to Colorado (like the one I took with my friend Chip). No writers' club meetings (like the ones with my friend John Paul). No waiting for the State Police after wrecking a car (like the time with my friend Jared). No evenings with a lot of wine, cheese, and laughter (like the ones with Joel). It's all just blah!

Too Spiritual

This set of ideas got started when I was reading the Robert Webber book. I don't quite buy the trichotomy of some writers, that the human being is made up of three entities, body/soul/spirit, but it does sort of explain the three church traditions I've now been part of.

Rational: Presbyterian
There was an incredible amount of logic in a Presbyterian seminary. We studied Systematic Theology. The interesting thing is that we were applying all that logic to some fairly illogical concepts. Here's an example. God does no evil; God predestines some to eternal life; God does not, however, predestine others to eternal damnation—they do that to themselves. OK. That looks really good, and it's what we worked with all the time, but it's pretty deadly stuff for a Sunday school class, and the sharp 12-year-old always asks the fatal question. If God decides to save some, isn't He deciding not to save others? The Calvinist answer is 50 pages long, and never really deals with it. Anyhow, there's little sense of talking to God here—it's all talking about Him.

Spiritual
If you walk into Grace Fellowship on any Sunday morning, it's entirely normal to hear half a dozen people saying that God told them things. It's sometimes very minor, routine things. One lady gave a testimony that God told her to stock up on canned coffee because the price was about to go up. EVERYTHING is spiritualized. You can't have a party without a prayer session. You can't do a barbecue without spending time in worship. Interestingly enough, the physical side of humanity isn't too important there. Ray once told us that we are to kneel "in our spirit" during worship. People show up on Sunday wearing the most shabby clothing they can find because there's no point in looking good for God. Eucharist is almost entirely a matter of silent internal meditation. Yes, there are a few who wave flags or jump about, but nobody is quite sure why they are doing it.

Physical
When I joined a liturgical church, one thing that was rescued for me was the physical. Actions actually have meaning. When I cross myself, it's my body praying along with my mind. There's an actual reason to be kneeling, a reason that the liturgical color of the season is displayed. Adam's fall did not involve a pure spirit acquiring a body; his body was already pretty good. And because we are also worshiping with our bodies, it makes a difference what we do and how we do it. Not just a mind trip. Years ago, a new teenage convert asked me why we close our eyes when we pray. I didn't have a suitable answer. Now I do.