Notes from my Knapsack 5-2-24

Notes from my Knapsack 5-2-24
Jeff Gill

Chronophobia isn't a new diagnosis
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My impression is chronophobia is not precisely a clinically accepted diagnosis, but it's been around a while.

It would be, from the root words, fear of time's passage. Not too far removed from Lucy's diagnosis of pantophobia, which she suggested to Charlie Brown, to her own discomfiture. (You can look up the clip.)

Pantophobia, the fear of everything; chronophobia, the fear of the most inevitable issue any of us have. Time will pass, things will change.

As they always have. I hear people worry about our village's unique qualities, growth coming to the school district, changes on highways and byways, and my head goes back into history.

Introducing stoves for warmth into our church buildings was a BIG deal in our second decade as a village. Heat the church, and soften the moral fiber. Our parents had cold churches, and . . . ah, we put them in anyhow.

There were worries in the 1820s and 1830s as the Granville Academy, the Granville Literary and Theological Institution, and the Granville Female Seminary were all founded in short order. Will our rural retreat be overrun with students? Yet we adapted, and endured, and survived. The GLTI became Denison University in the mid-1850s.

Around this same period the Cumberland Pike was being extended across the continent just to the south, later to become The National Road (US 40 today), and then the Ohio & Erie Canal to our east, with Lucius Mower spearheading the Granville Feeder over to the foot of the village, and all the economic disruption faster transport might offer. What remains of that project is the former aqueduct, now roadway bridge over Raccoon Creek which will soon be pre-empted and re-routed from onto the Thornwood Crossing.

Railroads began to undercut canals and turnpikes almost as soon as they were completed, and Granville sought a rail connection avidly for many years; we didn't get a station in town closer than Union Station until 1880 (now a place to get fresh and tasty muffins). Rail traffic didn't do much for Granville, to the chagrin of some; the real impact on the community was when the interurban electric railway came down Broadway in 1890, a pioneering effort connecting us to Newark where you could catch trains to anywhere, and buy almost anything. We only just got a regular bus route back between the two this year, after decades of absence.

Oft-told but not too frequently said is the poetic tragedy of Charles Webster Bryant, our village pharmacist who campaigned for an historical society successfully in 1885, and for a clean public water supply — making it all too ironic that he died of typhoid in 1886. Change did not quite come fast enough in that case.

Residential electricity and telephones, radio broadcasts, television, liquor sales in the village . . . each innovation had its advocates, and also a chorus to proclaim the coming doom each would bring. The internet, smartphones, teleconferencing . . . these are the new horse-people of the apocalypse.

Or will we adapt, and adjust, and find a way to be Granville while incorporating changes, even big ones, into the fabric of our everyday lives? History says we're likely to do just fine.


Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and preacher in central Ohio; he's not sure if adding thermostats to churches was a good idea, but that's a different story. Tell him your fear of what's to come at knapsack77@gmail.com, or follow @Knapsack77 on Threads.

Faith Works 4-26-14

Faith Works 4-26-14
Jeff Gill

Polity is a funny word for important work
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It would be easier to say I teach church history.

Not accurate, but easier.

I did have the honor of teaching American history for five years at Fairmont State University; since then, I've been an adjunct lecturer or instructor for Bethany College, Ashland Theological Seminary, Methodist Theological School in Ohio, and now Phillips Theological Seminary online.

All of the latter four, I've taught Disciples of Christ history and polity.

Now, sometimes people know about the Disciples of Christ, but occasionally I have to explain this particular Christian tradition, with roots nearby in western Pennsylvania and northern Kentucky. That's the easy part.

What's always more complicated is that odd little word after history. Most people have some idea of what "church history" means. But history and . . . polity?

Polity is basically a term for governance. Our polity in secular terms for the United States is as a democratic republic; Great Britain's polity is a constitutional monarchy. And so on.

Church polity has to do with visible elements like bishops or synods; it also relates to less obvious aspects of church life like the rules around ordination, who can become a minister and under what guidelines. Polity and theology intersect with issues such as who can preside over communion, or even who can preach during a service. As a regular supply preacher in multiple traditions, there are denominations where I can preach on invitation any time, but can't preside over communion that Sunday; I have been asked by local lay leaders to preach for congregations where I've been in the odd position of having to explain to them I'd love to preach for them, but I am not allowed by their church polity.

Even that term "laity" or lay person, versus clergy: that's an indication of polity at work, which is different for various church groups. In some Christian bodies, laity can preside at communion any time, in others only under certain circumstances, and for others the distinction doesn't even exist.

Polity may be like Robert's Rules of Order to many of you: something that may have a purpose, but not much understood. Anyhow, that's why I tend to grit my teeth and explain, because it's worth explaining what it means to say I teach "history and polity" for my tradition.

Whether that word is used or not, it's in the air right now. The United Methodist Church (UMC) is in their General Conference at the end of April into May, where hugely significant issues of their polity are slated to go under review. A number of Licking County Methodist local churches have left for the Global Methodist Church, in large part to work and serve under a polity they believe serves their purposes better; their local annual conference will come later in May.

In early June, the Southern Baptist Convention (SBC) meets just down the road in Indianapolis; they meet annually, while the UMC historically meets only every fourth year, but they're still sorting out rescheduling from COVID. When the SBC gathers, they are scheduled to make a theological vote with major polity consequences, as to whether or not women can serve as pastor of a local church, or even as a staff pastor where a male is senior pastor. Last June on the floor of their convention, polity actions removed a number of churches from full fellowship, including Saddleback in California, founded by Rick Warren but now led by a clergy couple.

In fact, most polity is theology working out in a practical fashion. Technically, I don't teach theology; practically speaking, history and polity always turn on a theological hinge. All three are worth understanding!


Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and preacher in central Ohio; he's hoping the word polity didn't drive off too many readers. Tell him what you think at knapsack77@gmail.com, or follow @Knapsack77 on Threads.