"Very soon, this is not going to be the congregation it has been," Reeder told Sunday's Bible study crowd over pastries and coffee. He confessed to typos in this week's study outline and added, "Go easy on me. This has been a tough week."

Unlike the bloody war of lawsuits elsewhere, this parish breakup is civil and polite - gentle, even. Nobody's trying to take the property. Reeder won't even discuss who's staying or going, lest it seem like a bitter "us" versus "them" issue.

But everything still hurts.

Last week, Bishop Rob O'Neill visited the parish to say - to Reeder's surprise - that the rector would leave next Sunday, not Oct. 1, as Reeder specified in his resignation letter. (The new timing eases the transition to the next rector, spokesperson Beckett Stokes said Sunday.)

O'Neill also broke the news that the church's mortgage won't be paid for two months, part of a financial reorganization worked out with the bank because of the expected drop in membership.

Parishioners have already been withholding 42 percent of their designated pledges from the diocese. It's part of a national protest that accelerated in 2003 when the Episcopal Church approved same-sex blessings and an openly gay bishop.

Both sides chide the media for carping on "sex." But the sex issues exposed a fundamental difference in world view: The Episcopal Church believes the culture, including its prevailing ideas on sex, helps define its mission. On Sunday, Reeder expressed the opposing belief, saying, "God defines what a sin is, not the culture."

Reeder, who hasn't revealed his plans, said people must be guided by conscience.

"Some people will go one way. Some people will go another way," he said. "But it's not like we're saying, 'They're the sinners, and we're not.' It's saying, 'What does faithfulness to Christ dictate to us?' "

Mike Austin's family is leaving after 15 years. They're not following Reeder as a man, Austin said, but the faith he deepened in them, namely, a relationship with Jesus Christ. Others may find it tougher.

"People have seen their children married here; they've buried their spouses here - some have even buried their children here," Austin said. "There's an incredible amount of emotional attachment. It must be excruciating to balance that against a theological position."

END