DANIEL ROBERT MAZURTHE ARCHITECTURE OF BELIEFShop the books ↗

Faith, family & the right to be heard

When Loyalty Meets Accountability

An email exchange with a longtime member of Living Word Church.

In July 2024, I asked a longtime church member to help bring my concerns to the church board. Our emails moved from that request into a wider disagreement about loyalty, evidence, responsibility, and what it means to respond to people who say they have been harmed.

A request for oversight. A wider disagreement.

After meeting Christian at a family wedding in Syracuse, I asked him to forward my concerns about Pastor Bryan Rocine to the church board, or help me contact its members. Christian’s replies questioned my account of the church’s history, defended aspects of its leadership, and urged a different way of understanding the past.

For me, the exchange raised questions about how people can seek accountability within a community to which others remain deeply loyal. For Christian, it raised concerns about fairness, personal responsibility, faith, and the purpose of revisiting old conflicts. The emails below preserve both voices.

“Christian” is a pseudonym, not his real name. I have withheld his real name to avoid embarrassing him.

The message headings and short descriptions are reading aids. The emails retain their original wording, with paragraph breaks and line wrapping adapted for the web. Dates and times follow the source record; its concealed name and redactions remain in place.

The complete exchange · 12 emails

Read the correspondence.

Read in sequence, open a particular message, or search for a subject or phrase. Each email identifies its sender and preserves its original headers.

12 emails · July 11–16, 2024

01Daniel MazurA request to contact the church boardI ask for the concerns shared with Pastor Bryan Rocine to reach the board.Thursday, July 11, 2024 8:43 AM

From: Daniel Mazur <dan@compits.net>

Sent: Thursday, July 11, 2024 8:43 AM

To: Christian

Subject: Seeking Change

Hi Christian,

It was wonderful meeting you again, both at my niece’s wedding and later at the church on Sunday morning. Our conversations were a refreshing reminder of the positive memories I have with some people from my past.

Over the past few weeks, I have been in communication with your pastor, Bryan Rocine. He mentioned that his actions as pastor are overseen by board members who hold the authority to intervene if his conduct strays from what is considered acceptable within your church. As I trust you are already aware, this oversight is crucial for maintaining the integrity and compassion that should define the core nature of the church's leadership.

I approached Bryan with deep concerns about the way he has treated me and the wrongful treatment many others have experienced at the hands of his predecessor, who was my father, as well as others. This was spurred by his gesture during a sermon, where he offered his cell phone number, seemingly inviting those he has wronged to seek an apology. However, my interactions with him have left me disheartened. His responses have been insincere, revealing a troubling lack of concern or care for the issues I’ve raised. He has not only refused to address these concerns but has also failed to acknowledge them.

In the spirit of seeking resolution and fostering a more compassionate community, I am sharing a link to the thread of our text messages. My hope is that you can present this to the board members or, alternatively, provide me with their names and contact information if you have it.

Thank you for your understanding and assistance in this matter. Together, we can work towards a more just and caring environment for everyone.

Warm regards,

Link: Seeking Change

02ChristianChristian’s first replyChristian reflects on the church’s history, my father’s leadership, and faith.Thursday, July 11, 2024 10:48 AM

From: Christian

Sent: Thursday, July 11, 2024 10:48 AM

To: Daniel Mazur <dan@compits.net>

Subject: RE: Seeking Change

Hi Dan,

I was very glad that you made it to the wedding and I’m sure that Paul, your Mom, and others in the family were also. We really enjoyed seeing Mary Jane again, it’s been a long time.

I have read thru the thread you sent and being totally honest, it’s a lot to think about, having just come into the office a while ago with a ton of work to do.

As a business owner yourself, I’m sure you understand that. All I can say at the moment is I will take another look at it some evening soon at home with less distractions.

I’m a lot older now and more cautious than when I was a young man. The old proverb, “Measure Twice, Cut Once” is something I’ve become very fond of. I do realize there’s a lot of things to unpack that have happened over the years at the Church. Regardless of his flaws, which all leaders have them, one of the things that makes it very easy for me to believe your Dad received a call from the Lord is the simple fact that no one is going to leave behind a successful business to work with a bunch of young hippies that have nothing to offer. There really was no upside for him getting involved with us all. As a mature man now yourself, I’m thinking you can understand just how rough his background was. I do think with the sensibilities of our society today he would likely be considered to have been an abused child. Back in those days, you were pretty much expected to suck it up no matter what life threw at you. There didn’t seem to be too much compassion and understanding floating around. Relevance of all this, I think the obsession he developed for control was basically a protection mechanism. Protection meant, nobody is going to hurt me.

We were all well aware of this need for high levels of control fairly early on. I think that those of us who thought the Lord was behind the Church accepted it, even though there was a lot about it we didn’t like.

If you know anything about the Civil War, you know that President Lincoln had several Generals that were in charge of the Union troops that just couldn’t get much done. Finally, he found General Grant and after much blood, sweat, and tears, ended up winning the war. Your Dad was a General Grant kind of guy. It wasn’t pretty, but he got things done.

The last thing I’ll say for this morning (as the business is pressing heavy on me), I never did really understand why he asked Pop and Gert to leave. I can’t say I agree or disagree, because I don’t have the facts. I can say that us young guys loved Pop, and we thought he was the greatest. I’ve mentioned this to your Mom several times. In all of your communications, I can see that this is one of the biggest things troubling you.

Regardless of the mistakes and shortcomings of your Father, there comes a point where you have to let it go and focus on Jesus. Things that have happened in your family have caused you a lot of pain and trouble. As you say, you have also made mistakes and have tried to face up to them. Going over the past can be valuable and helpful, but only to a point. After a while you hit diminishing returns. There’s really not much new understanding to be gained by keeping rehashing the same things.

I would recommend getting out your Bible and start fresh with Jesus and what He has done for each of us on the cross. See what He has to say about things. You probably think you already know, but you may be surprised. When we seek God, we always find Truth, because that is what He has promised us. Jesus can give you a fresh start, new faith, and healing from the disappointments of the past.

Kind Regards,

Christian

03Daniel MazurReturning to the original requestI clarify that the immediate request concerns oversight of the pastor.Thursday, July 11, 2024 11:48 AM

From: Daniel Mazur

Sent: Thursday, July 11, 2024 11:48 AM

To: Christian

Subject: RE: Seeking Change

Hi Christian,

Thank you for your thoughtful message. There are many aspects within it that I'd be delighted to discuss further with you, though much of it isn't directly related to my initial reason for reaching out. Nonetheless, I'm more than willing to have a conversation at your convenience. If you ever decide to read my book, you'll find that many of the questions you raised are already addressed within its pages.

In the meantime, could I kindly ask you to assist with my original request? Would you be able to forward the text thread to the board members or provide me with their names if you have them? It's important to me that they are aware of the interactions between myself and the Church pastor. My goal is to ascertain whether Bryan's response was deemed appropriate or if further action is warranted.

Thank you very much for your understanding and assistance.

04Daniel MazurQuestions about evidence and responsibilityI question assumptions about my motives and ask what accountability requires.Friday, July 12, 2024 10:03 AM

From: Daniel Mazur

Sent: Friday, July 12, 2024 10:03 AM

To: Christian

Subject: RE: Seeking Change

Hello again, Christian,

In our previous exchange, I mentioned my intent to have my text thread delivered to the Church’s board members. While I hadn’t anticipated your comments and questions, I welcome the opportunity to discuss them and any other concerns you may have.

This morning, I found myself deeply reflecting on some claims you’ve made about me, and I am curious to know how you arrived at your conclusions. Who informed you that I’ve had previous discussions with anyone causing harm to me or others? I have attempted such discussions, but neither Bryan nor my father was willing to engage with me. My father passed away, holding out until his dying day. As for Bryan, I urge you to read the thread again—do you see him addressing any of the important concerns I’ve brought to his attention? Do you think any of my past dialogues with him have been any different? How, then, have I been rehashing the same issues when they have yet to be properly discussed and addressed? Regardless of "flaws," which you say all leaders have, why have you reduced decades of atrocious behavior to mere flaws?

Furthermore, where did you learn that my actions are not based on “getting out the Bible” and “seeing what Jesus has to say?” In reality, my actions stem from years of scriptural review. Anyone with a basic understanding of the scriptures can see that my actions are biblically based, as evidenced by the thread I provided. Do I need to quote the scriptures for you?

These are my primary reflections and concerns regarding your comments. While I appreciate that your comments show no ill intent, I am alarmed by the damage caused when people claim to understand the minds and actions of others without proper investigation or learning from those being spoken about. Sometimes, it’s as simple as asking the question, “Why are you doing this?” instead of claiming to know the answer. Isn’t it evident this is what concerns me about Bryan when he labeled me a rebellious son, a God-hater, saying God is my arch enemy and making other disparaging remarks defaming my character?

Additionally, you mentioned that there was no upside for my father leaving his business for hippies and other unwanted types, suggesting that you believe he was called by the Lord. I wonder why you said this and what relevance it has to my concerns. If it is relevant, is it not possible that he, as a man, may have lost his way, even if he believed he was called by God? And if he wasn’t called by the Lord, could there not be other reasons for his actions? Have there not been men from various contradicting religions who falsely believed they were called? Could he not have simply been mistaken or driven by a thirst for power and control? Perhaps he was frustrated with his business partners, seeking more control, or simply could not get along with them. Maybe he did something very wrong, or they did something very wrong, leading to his departure. What do you truly know about his partners, his business, and his situation beyond what you’ve been told? Have you ever looked into the matter deeply?

And what do you truly know about me other than what you’ve been told? Can you recognize that you may have already made a similar mistake with me?

Christian, you’ve failed to look under the hood and see the reality beyond the surface.

Throughout my life, I’ve heard countless excuses made for my father’s and Bryan’s wrongful behavior, and your message to me is filled with them, even extending to a story about President Lincoln and General Grant. Where is the accountability? Why have you and others consistently avoided this crucial, Bible-based aspect in every discussion with me? Can’t you offer as many, if not more, comments asserting the need for accountability? Have you considered the damaging consequences if these issues remain unaddressed? You’ve not mentioned even one.

Regarding abuse, being abused as a child is no excuse for perpetuating harm. For my part, I wouldn’t change anything about my past, as it has given me abilities I would not otherwise have. I am grateful for the benefits of my experience. Have you ever heard such a perspective? If so, why has no one from your background ever shared it with me? Shouldn't the focus be on learning from our past to teach others and pass along a good and worthy message? Don’t we all have a troubled past of one sort or another?

Christian, as kind as you are, I implore you to open your eyes to the profound damage caused by ungodly behavior within your church. Stop making excuses for these wrongdoings and summon the courage to confront and rectify them. Only by facing these wrongs with courage can we hope to correct them and foster true healing and reconciliation. I hope you are not clinging to these excuses, for addressing these matters may require a reassessment of the past and recognition of opportunities once available to you that have simply been dismissed. Despite your good intentions, you and others may have fallen short of what is scripturally required to help the loved ones you care for. Let us urge each other to obey the scriptures and strive to fulfill our obligations to bring about the change that is desperately needed.

05Daniel MazurA follow-up on accountability and careThe discussion turns to former members, family relationships, and practical compassion.Saturday, July 13, 2024 12:58 PM

From: Daniel Mazur <dan@compits.net>

Sent: Saturday, July 13, 2024 12:58 PM

To: Christian

Subject: RE: Seeking Change

Hello again, Christian.

I write to you once more, seeking a response to my previous message. How many more days must pass before I receive an answer to my question? Will you forward my message to the board, or can you provide me with their names? Why do even the simplest requests from longstanding members of your Church encounter such resistance and delay? Is this something that necessitates prayer before action? It certainly cannot be a matter of needing more time, as you were swift to counsel me on matters I had neither intended nor asked to discuss. Since you opened that door, let us begin this dialogue in earnest.

For decades, countless individuals have endured terrible treatment and harm within the Church. It is inconceivable that you are unaware of the pervasive lies and deceit, to which you have chosen to remain uninvolved. Lou Levante, a former longtime member and Academy principal, once apologized to me after he, too, became a victim of such deceit. My sisters, Debbie and Pam, reached out years ago, seeking forgiveness after they and their children suffered the same malicious tactics within the Church and Academy. David Gentile sought my counsel when he faced threats of disconnection from his own family unless he complied with the Church's demands.

This pattern of behavior is not isolated but pervasive, impacting countless individuals who have dedicated themselves to your Church. The reluctance to address these issues and provide transparency only serves to perpetuate harm and erode trust within the community. I implore you to reflect on the consequences of your actions—or inactions—and to take a decisive stand for truth and justice, as these principles should be the cornerstone of your faith and the leadership of the Church.

Former elders and board members like Jerry Brown, Timmy Ragonese, and Don Cerio were subjected to false accusations and rumors that led to their unjust removal from positions of authority. Have you read any of the letters on my website regarding families who moved out of state, only to have their children wrongfully treated by the Academy after their departure? Have you read any of the heartfelt letters from these children to their former teachers at the Academy? They are heartbreaking. What will it take for you to acknowledge the truth that you have already seen and know? Will it take a personal tragedy, as it has for so many others? Do you not feel the pain, as I have, when those you care about are harmed?

Let’s assume, for argument's sake, that all these situations are the fault of those harmed and that the Church and Academy heads bear no responsibility. Even if the many complaints have resulted in self-inflicted harm, should the Church not make itself available to anyone with a grievance, justified or not? This highlights how far out of hand things have become within your organization. Common sense has become a rarity, and I should not be surprised.

It seems impossible to be a long-time member of the Church, to stand for others, and to prioritize justice over self-interest, for such nobility appears nonexistent in the leadership of your Church. Why then should its congregation, people like you, be expected to embody such qualities? To behave nobly and honorably, to follow the messages within scripture, is to be punished, lied about, and cast out of the organization, with remaining members warned and threatened not to involve themselves with such people. Were you to possess such qualities, you would have been removed from the organization long ago.

You claimed to love “Pop,” my Grandfather, and others who left or were forced out of the Church. But what does this love truly entail? Did you ever reach out to him to say hello or check on his well-being? He was abandoned by his own daughter, my mother, decades ago, and by my father and all four of my siblings. My mother now grieves deeply for the mistakes she made, not only with him but also with her mother, with me, and with her only sister. She cried about these regrets every day during my visit for my niece’s wedding.

Where was your support, your wisdom, your love for these kind, loving people? Did you ever offer a hand of friendship or a word of comfort during their times of need? Likely not, because they were no longer in your Church. This selective love reveals a troubling truth about your actions and the Church's stance.

Love, in its truest form, transcends boundaries and remains steadfast regardless of circumstances. It is not contingent upon one's affiliation with an institution. True love is reaching out to those in pain, offering solace and understanding, regardless of whether they remain within the fold. It is standing by them in their darkest hours, providing a shoulder to cry on, and a comforting presence when they feel most alone.

Love is not passive. It does not wait for convenience or seek validation through institutional approval. It acts with courage and compassion, driven by a genuine desire to connect and heal. True love understands that every human being, regardless of their choices or affiliations, deserves dignity, respect, and care.

So, I ask again: Where was your love for my Grandfather and others who were forced out or left the Church? Where was your compassion when they needed it most? Your silence and inaction speak volumes, revealing a love that is conditional and selective. This is not the love that Christ taught us to embody. True Christian love requires us to break down walls, to extend our hands across divides, and to care for one another without judgment or reservation.

Reflect on this, Christian. Consider the profound difference between love that is professed and love that is practiced. True leadership, true faith, and true love are not measured by adherence to an institution but by the courage to act justly, the compassion to care deeply, and the wisdom to listen earnestly to all voices. These are the qualities that define true nobility and Christian behavior.

Yet, you claim to be neutral and non-judgmental because you do not know all the facts. This assertion of impartiality rings hollow when, in reality, your actions—or lack thereof—have demonstrated otherwise. You have taken steps and chosen sides, aligning yourself with the very institution that has perpetuated harm. Is this truly noble or Christian behavior? True Christian love and nobility require us to stand up for what is right, to offer support to those who have been wronged, and to seek justice for the oppressed.

Your silence and inaction speak volumes. They reveal a complicity that undermines the very principles of love and compassion that you profess to uphold. Love is not passive; it is active and courageous. It compels us to reach out, to heal, and to stand in solidarity with those who suffer. Reflect on the essence of love and the responsibilities it entails. True love demands more than words; it requires action, empathy, and unwavering support for those in need.

You mentioned General Grant; I choose to leave you with the wisdom of the former Roman Emperor and Stoic philosopher Marcus Aurelius, who wrote in The Meditations: "If any man is able to convince me and show me that I do not think or act right, I will gladly change; for I seek the truth by which no man was ever injured. But he is injured who abides in his error and ignorance." Aurelius's words remind us that everyone should be listened to—Christians, heathens, the wise, and even the foolish. This is the same message I tried to convey to Byan Rocine at my father’s funeral, inspired by the wisdom my father shared with me in our final conversation before he passed away. “We all have something to offer each other,” he told me, even when I defiantly declared my atheism to challenge his belief in my wisdom.

Reflect on this, Christian. True leadership, true faith, and true love are not measured by adherence to an institution but by the courage to act justly, the compassion to care deeply, and the wisdom to listen earnestly to all voices. These are the qualities that define true nobility and Christian behavior.

06ChristianChristian declines the board requestChristian states that he will not provide board-member information or become involved.Sunday, July 14, 2024 9:30 AM

From: Christian

Sent: Sunday, July 14, 2024 9:30 AM

Subject: Re: Seeking Change

Hi Danny,

I have moved your message to my personal email account for starters. Due to my business as a XXXXX, my business email is monitored 24/7, as all communications are available to the SEC and FINRA. These are the agencies that regulate XXXXX.

The short answer to the question of providing information on Church board members is I have no intention of doing that. This ongoing battle you have going with Brother Bryan, the Church, and whoever else, is not something I have any desire to stick my nose into.

While I find many of your questions interesting and would be inclined to answer some of them when I can make some time, the fact that you are attacking me in both of these long emails is a turn off. I've been at the Church since White's Chapel and am well aware of many of the things that have gone on. Nobody ever has the whole story, and you are also only telling one side. We will all have to answer to Jesus some day for the things we've done, and that certainly includes your Father. If I have made a decision to stick with the Church, which I have, that's my decision to make. I don't believe it's my life's work to try and rectify wrongs and conflicts that have happened over many decades and I did not have a hand in. If I have wronged someone, then obviously I have an obligation to try sincerely to make that right. That's all I have to say for now.

Christian

07Daniel MazurAccounts of harm and the need to listenI share excerpts from former members and discuss support, counseling, and reconciliation.Sunday, July 14, 2024 9:32 AM

From: Daniel Mazur

Sent: Sunday, July 14, 2024 9:32 AM

To: Christian

Subject: RE: Seeking Change

Good morning, Christian.

It's Sunday, 6:12 AM, and I imagine you'll be heading to church soon. Before you go, or when you return and have a moment to read this message, I want to bring some important matters to your attention—matters that today’s service might overlook.

These are not just any matters; they are the lived experiences of people you know, individuals whose situations you've remained uninvolved with and whose issues have never been addressed. These are stories of pain, trauma, and neglect that have been ignored for far too long.

You may be unaware of these facts, so I have taken the liberty to compile a few key points. These are voices crying out for recognition, for empathy, and for justice. Here are just a few of their stories:

Ruth Smith, thirteen years old, wrote: “When I left Living Word I was mad because they wouldn’t let me go in and say goodbye to my friends… It also made me mad because we couldn’t talk to people out of our faith. But now that I’m going to public schools I’ve got more friends and I’m a lot happier now that I’m out of there, and so are my two other friends that left.”

Jude & Irene’s daughter Kimberly: “My best friend, Jason Becker, was leaving Living Word. I didn’t know what to do. I had grown up with him my whole life. ‘What was I going to do now,’ I thought. I was taught that if someone had left the church or school, they were no longer Christians and would eventually go to hell. My school told me this. If he had backslidden, I wasn’t allowed to talk to him anymore. I was told he would tell me lies, and I would want to leave too. I was being brainwashed since kindergarten.”

Susan Bartels: “When my mother left when I was 7 years old, Brother Bob Mazur preached consistently that God doesn’t want unequally yoked relationships, even families. My parents never spoke or allowed us kids contact with my mom. Mr. Mazur would often comment that he doesn’t speak with his son or parents for that reason… After being scolded by Brother Bob Mazur and Brian Rocine for driving a college classmate to school regularly who didn’t attend our church, I decided that this was ridiculous and I left the church.”

Micah, a 1st Grader’s handwritten letter: “I love first grade. Dear Sister Linda, and the class. Sorry I was kicked out of school. It was fun in your class… I love first grade. It is fantastic, and it is so fun. You guys are the best class in the whole wide world.”

James Farmer: “The school does not allow extra-curricular activities with outside institutions. The academy discourages its students from seeking higher education at colleges outside of the Syracuse area, thus further limiting their opportunities.”

Patricia Corbett: “I am a former teacher’s assistant at the Church of the Living Word. I taught there for approximately six years… This school does not permit extra-curricular activities whatsoever, such as karate, little league, pop warner football, etc., outside of church members. This was very hard on my son. I found the school’s attitude and policies very narrow-minded about people that were non-church members. We were consistently told we could not make it in the outside world… My son and I were shunned by their membership after we left.”

Patricia Smith: “GM made the announcement that the plant was closing… we began praying about our options. When my husband and I decided to transfer to Lansing, Michigan, we began telling our friends at the church. To our shock and dismay, we began to experience total rejection from our friends… The pastor preached off the pulpit about people taking transfers and moving out of state and not trusting God to take care of them in this community… My husband called from work the next day and talked to the principal. He asked my husband if he was attending another church. My husband said that we were and were happy there. He proceeded to tell my husband that we should take our children out of the academy… The same day, he went from work to the school to pick up the children’s belongings from their desks. This was in the middle of May when they only had six weeks left of school… My children were very hurt by this because they couldn’t say goodbye to any of their friends that they had grown up with since birth.”

Laura Hazen: “Having been an active member of this church from 1981 to 1986… the belief that their organization has more spiritual truth than other local churches and that a member who leaves this church is most certainly out of the will of God. At all costs, members are encouraged by use of fear tactics, manipulation of scripture, and peer pressure to attend this Living Word church… The result of not attending would result in possible loss of salvation, spiritual death… Members are not encouraged to ask questions of the leadership, and private counseling from the pastor and elders is virtually non-existent.”

Pastor Lee Simmons: “I met with the Sleights at their home to see if I could give any counsel for their marriage problem… Steven admitted that in the past he had physically abused his wife on several occasions… I encouraged Steve to commit himself to counseling and begin attending church together with his wife and children. I suggested he leave his church because it seemed that going to his church was more important than marital reconciliation. He chose to put his church above his wife, which has led to the present state of non-reconciliation.”

Cathy Zella: “I attended the Living Word Church for 16 years. Each year it got worse. (A total control type church)… My husband was diagnosed 12 years ago as a manic depressive. He had a severe chemical imbalance which caused sudden mood swings… The church held a meeting where they encircled him and prayed over him as to cast out this evil spirit… We were reluctant to seek medical help because of the faith doctrine the church taught at that point… He went into a severe depression. He realized that he needed to go back on the medication again but was very upset by this because, once again, he felt he would not be using faith in God, influenced by what he had been taught… My husband committed suicide. He went into such a severe depression, and if he had not delayed in getting help from the influence of that church, he might still be alive today. He was also afraid to go back on the medicine because he would have to follow up with counseling, and Living Word taught against seeking counseling outside of their church… They preached on not going to other churches and getting involved in other organizations… Yet if you tried to leave, they would tell you that you were leaving the will of God and God’s hand of protection would be off from you. They used fear tactics to keep you there.”

Christian,

These are just excerpts from some of the letters I have. I could continue with more, but this should be enough to make the message clear. What will you say now? That this was long ago and everything has changed? You haven't read my book yet, but what about the one by Mary Sorrendino, a former member of 16 years, titled "Misery to Ministry"? I referenced this book to Bryan in my text messages. Mary’s sister Toni had a stillbirth and sought counsel from her pastor, my father, but was told there would be no visit, no support. Due to the church's teachings that secular counsel was forbidden, Toni suffered further and unnecessarily when support was available all along.

These are not isolated incidents; they are part of a disturbing pattern. The pain and trauma inflicted on individuals seeking solace and support from the church are real and have lasting consequences. It's time to stop ignoring these voices and start addressing the deep-seated issues within the church. Will you finally acknowledge the harm that has been done and take meaningful steps towards change?

When I met with Mary in Syracuse just a few weeks ago, I realized that my mother finally came to understand what you still refuse to see—the wrongs committed in so many instances in the past. This meeting with Mary wasn't just a casual visit; it was a profound moment of reckoning and realization. I saw a genuine opportunity for healing, a chance for Mary and my mother to reunite and find solace in each other's company over a simple cup of coffee. I suggested this reconciliation to Bryan, hoping he would see the value in such a meeting, but he refused to take part.

What I had not mentioned to Bryan in my texts was the tragic loss that Toni, Mary’s sister, endured when her young son was struck and killed by a drunk driver. The aftermath of this tragedy was further compounded by the church’s response. Instead of offering compassion and support, the incident was coldly spoken of from the pulpit, suggesting that had he been in church, he would still be alive today. This heartless assertion wasn't just insensitive; it was a blatant use of fear tactics to manipulate and control.

This is the same message I heard years ago, the same fear tactics that Cathy Zella spoke about: “If you tried to leave, they would tell you that you were leaving the will of God, and God’s hand of protection would be off from you.” The church's approach has consistently been to instill fear, to suggest that any deviation from their teachings would lead to disaster and divine abandonment. This toxic environment has caused immeasurable harm to countless individuals and families.

When I think back on my suggestion for my mother and Mary to meet, I see it as a microcosm of what needs to happen on a larger scale. There needs to be a widespread acknowledgment of the wrongs done, an acceptance of the pain inflicted, and a genuine effort towards healing. This is not just about reconnecting over coffee; it’s about breaking the cycle of fear and control, about offering true compassion and support where it has long been withheld.

Christian, it’s time to face these uncomfortable truths. It's time to listen to the voices of those who have been hurt and to take meaningful steps to ensure that such harm does not continue. Will you have the courage to confront these issues head-on, or will you continue to turn a blind eye? The choice is yours, but the need for change is undeniable.

Why has none of this ever been addressed? All these accounts from past members about outside help and counseling being forbidden—don’t you remember Art Zella hanging himself in the basement of his Liverpool home? This tragedy was a direct result of the church's failure to provide the necessary support and to allow access to mental health resources. If the church had acknowledged the importance of mental health and offered proper counseling, Art might still be alive today.

Facing that tragedy and realizing the importance of addressing mental health could have allowed Mary’s sister Toni to be comforted during her stillbirth and when she lost her son. Instead, she endured further trauma, compounded by the church's harmful teachings and lack of support. Imagine if, from the very beginning, the church had addressed these wrongs. If the pastor and elders had been accessible and supportive, offering real compassion and guidance, Toni’s suffering could have been alleviated.

As Laura Hazen said, “Members are not encouraged to ask questions of the leadership, and private counseling from the pastor and elders is virtually non-existent.” This systemic failure to provide adequate support and to discourage questioning has created an environment where pain and suffering are ignored, and fear and control dominate.

It’s not enough to say that things have changed. Words without actions are meaningless. Look at Bryan, who labors so hard to avoid discussing these issues with me and addressing my concerns. Look at you, offering excuses for the wrongful behavior and delaying my simple request to bring my concerns to the attention of those your pastor is supposed to be accountable to. Instead of encouraging me to continue in the pursuit of justice, you offer counsel as if you know who I am and what I have and have not done in making my determinations to move forward on the course of action I’ve taken. “I’m a lot older now and more cautious,” you say. You “Measure twice, cut once.”

So, when you write me again, what will you say? Will you list more generals of warfare, names of those in battle who seem to align with your message of the ends justifying the means? Or will you finally acknowledge the pain, the unaddressed suffering, and the desperate need for change?

The time for denial and avoidance is over. The community is crying out for accountability, for empathy, for real transformation that addresses the deep wounds inflicted by years of neglect and harmful teachings. Healing begins with recognition and action. Will you be part of that change, or will you continue to turn a blind eye? The choice is yours, but know that the call for justice will not be silenced. The path to healing is clear, but it requires courage, honesty, and a commitment to truly making things right. Will you step up and be a force for good, or will you let this opportunity for change slip away? The decision rests with you, but remember, the need for change is undeniable, and the time for action is now.

It’s time to reflect on the past and ensure that such neglect and harm do not continue. Healing begins with recognition and action. The community is crying out for accountability, for empathy, for real transformation that addresses the deep wounds inflicted by years of neglect and harmful teachings. People are demanding transparency and accountability. They want leaders who will stand up for what is right, who will listen and respond to the voices of those who have been hurt.

This is a pivotal moment. Will you rise to the occasion, or will you fall back on old patterns of denial and avoidance? The need for change is undeniable, and the opportunity for real healing and transformation is within reach.

The path forward requires courage, honesty, and a willingness to confront uncomfortable truths. It demands that we hold ourselves and our leaders accountable, that we reject the fear tactics and control mechanisms that have caused so much pain. It requires us to embrace empathy, compassion, and genuine support for those in need.

So, when you write me again, consider carefully what you will say. Will you continue to defend the indefensible, or will you take a stand for justice and healing? The choice is yours, but the eyes of the community are upon you, and the call for change will not be silenced.

08Daniel MazurThe limits of the exchangeI acknowledge the refusal and explain why the leadership analogy troubles me.Sunday, July 14, 2024 8:05 PM

From: Daniel Mazur

Sent: Sunday, July 14, 2024 8:05 PM

To: Christian

Subject: RE: Seeking Change

One more thing, Christian, and then I will leave you alone, as it seems that’s what you prefer, given your silence until now.

I finally have the answer to the only thing I initially asked of you: either to provide me with the names of the board members who oversee Pastor Bryan or to forward my concerns to them. You have made it clear that you will not grant my request. Your unwillingness to support transparency and adhere to the scriptural requirements for such matters speaks volumes and reveals a lack of understanding of these requirements. With this clarity, I now have what I came for, and I can move on.

As for the rest that has transpired, if you did not want me to reflect on the many statements and claims you made, you could have refrained from presenting them unsolicited.

You mentioned Ulysses S. Grant, and I am curious about the origin of that reference. Did it come from the pulpit of your church, from an elder or pastor you respect, or from your own imagination? Regardless of its source, Christian, it is profoundly misguided. These questions are not meant for you to answer but rather for you to contemplate.

Grant’s battles were fought on fields of war, against clear and tangible enemies. What I’ve been talking to you about is not a battle against an enemy, but a plea for the love, care, and concern that is missing from those who are supposed to be our comrades, our own troops. The individuals we speak of are not enemies to be vanquished, but brothers and sisters who have been wronged, harmed, lied to, and banished unjustly. They are good and loving people, deserving of support and compassion, not condemnation.

Your justification of the church leadership’s actions as ‘necessary’ reveals a troubling disconnect from the principles of love and justice that should be at the heart of your faith. It is not necessary to ostracize and harm those who seek truth and healing. It is not righteous to defend actions that cause pain and division among us.

Christian, you have strayed far from the path of empathy and understanding. Despite my attempts to show you this, it seems my words have not touched your heart. All I can do now is express my deep sorrow for the widening chasm between us, a chasm born of your unwavering defense of the indefensible.

Since you have chosen not to respond favorably to my request, I will respect your apparent desire for distance and leave you alone, just as I have with Bryan. I regret that our correspondence went through your business account, but that was your decision and I had no knowledge or control over it. For myself, all my messages are through my business, as I view them as one and the same.

It grieves me to end our conversation, but I must honor your wishes. May you one day find your way back to the love and compassion that should guide us all.

09Daniel MazurThe purpose of the book and websiteI explain my hopes for the memoir and ask about concealing Christian’s name.Monday, July 15, 2024 7:30 AM

From: Daniel Mazur

Sent: Monday, July 15, 2024 7:30 AM

To: Christian

Subject: RE: Seeking Change

Christian,

On another topic, I want to clarify the purpose of my book and its associated website, as my intentions have been largely misunderstood. As you know, I do not have a relationship with many of my nephews, nieces, a brother, and a sister, and only recently, after decades of separation, have I reconnected with my mother. These separations were not caused by any direct interactions between me and these family members. Instead, they stem from deliberate mischaracterizations perpetuated by your church, adherence to unhealthy dogmas that were never revised, and a lack of compassion and understanding fostered within our family and religious environment.

My goal in revealing these harmful characteristics is to help loved ones recognize the wrongs of the past, realize their impact, and inspire change. I hope for a future where a nephew realizes that an intimate relationship with me, despite differing religious beliefs, is not only possible but also healthy and beneficial for all involved. Additionally, my book and website aim to forewarn those considering involvement in such organizations, making them aware of the potential consequences they may face. It is deeply important to me to stand as a voice, even if one of the few, representing the many good people who have been harmed.

Christian, my correspondence with you highlights a concerning pattern I have noticed among long-standing members of the Living Word Church. It will be very informative to share this dialogue on my website. However, I see no advantage to my goal in citing your name. My intent is to convey that my communication has been with a long-standing member of the church, one who has communicated with me in ways similar to many other long-standing members I have known. Given your reservations about transparency, I am asking if you would like me to conceal your name from the text. I could do so without asking, but perhaps you want to stand by your words as a beacon for what you believe. I will follow whichever course you prefer.

10ChristianChristian’s final replyChristian disputes my interpretation and says he no longer wants further dialogue.Monday, July 15, 2024 9:01 AM

From: Christian

Sent: Monday, July 15, 2024 9:01 AM

To: Daniel Mazur <dan@compits.net>

Subject: Re: Seeking Change

Danny,

You stated yourself in one of your first communications that I approached you with kindness. I'm having a hard time seeing where the same has been returned. In most of your responses you have ignored my points of view and just went on the attack. I realize you are on a mission, as you basically state. One example: I stated that we will all answer to Jesus someday for our actions, including your Father. You seem to have ignored that point entirely.

The Bible makes clear that pastors and teachers will have a stricter judgement and more to answer for than the rest of us. You are devoting your life to trying to bring this judgement now.

You talk a lot about his position on counseling and damage that you believe it has done to many. Did you ever look at the other side of it? The Bible states clearly in Psalm One not to take the counsel of the ungodly. Did you ever consider that he believed he was protecting people from being misled by worldly people? Is there a place for seeking counsel from a Christian counselor who won't attack a person's faith and is mature? In my opinion yes, and the Church has been in agreement with this for many years now. Maybe you are not as well informed as you think.

I fail to see where myself, or current Church leaders are required to answer for policies that were put in place by your Father. He will answer for them and the Lord will put much weight on what his motives were for these positions that were taken.

I will also state on this subject, that he stated MANY times from the pulpit that people should follow their doctor's advice and take their medications.

As I said in one of my notes, I believe that many of your positions are one sided and are not actually representative of all the facts. You claim to be seeking Truth, but I don't really think so. You are only interested in the bad, never the good.

In the meantime, the Church will continue to grow in wisdom and we will all try to learn from both the good things, and the mistakes of the past.

While I was interested in communicating with you, my thoughts were that these notes were between us. Since you plan to make them public, I'm no longer interested in any further dialogue. I cannot control what you do, and I expect you will slant things to suit your own purposes.

Christian

11Daniel MazurA point-by-point responseI address kindness, judgment, changing policies, and the continuing effects of past harm.Monday, July 15, 2024 11:46 AM

From: Daniel Mazur

Sent: Monday, July 15, 2024 11:46 AM

To: Christian

Subject: RE: Seeking Change

Christian,

It appears there may have been a misunderstanding regarding your expectations for direct responses. Let me address your comments point by point to ensure clarity and thoroughness.

Firstly, I acknowledged your kind approach, and I regret if you feel I haven't reciprocated that kindness. From my perspective, this is a subjective judgment that I believe is unfounded. I strive to be direct and honest, especially when discussing the significant damage I have endured, which is not hearsay, as you insist, but stems from my own personal experiences. The lack of empathy from you and others, in my matter and that of others, despite personal testimonies, only deepens the hurt. Moreover, your refusal to assist in bringing these matters to the appropriate authorities is, in my view, genuinely unkind. True kindness involves showing concern for those who have been harmed, a concern I have demonstrated for others, which seemingly you have overlooked.

Regarding your statement, "We all have to answer to Jesus someday," I have acknowledged our differing beliefs, as my atheism makes it clear that I do not share this conviction. However, I do believe in accountability during our lifetimes, as the scriptures suggest. The Bible speaks of justice and improving relationships, which, as I am sure you would agree, cannot be achieved by turning a blind eye and waiting for posthumous justice.

You mentioned, "You are devoting your life to trying to bring judgment now." Before making such a judgment, it would have been considerate to ask about my life's devotion. Such a statement can be perceived as unkind. My aim is for my life story to be meaningful and worthwhile. Addressing ongoing harm is only one aspect of my life. I am equally devoted to fostering love and care in my personal and professional relationships. Without asking, it is difficult for you to know this, but the truth is that my devotion lies in these positive endeavors, not in the narrow pursuit you’ve suggested.

"I fail to see where myself, or current Church leaders are required to answer for policies that were put in place by your father,” you stated. This point puzzles me. Why are you so determined to divert focus away from those being harmed? Why is it so crucial to you that people claiming harm are never heard? I wrote an entire book with substantial evidence of wrongdoings, yet you, like Bryan Rocine and others, seem determined to silence it. You are aware of my book, yet you refuse to read it. Have I not provided ample evidence of wrongdoings, not just by my father, in the portions you have read? Why do you assume there is nothing more—no additional facts or insights—in the unread 598 pages? The fact remains that the harmful dogma perpetuated by my father's teachings continues to inflict damage, and it is important to acknowledge this.

If policies are determined to be wrong or harmful, isn't it obvious that they need to be addressed and changed? If you found someone wounded in the street, would you not run to their aid and seek medical attention? Or would you ignore the bleeding friend or stranger, comforted by the belief that justice will only prevail after the death of the person who caused the injury? This kind of thinking is deeply flawed and fails to address the immediate suffering and the urgent need for intervention.

You claimed, “Many of your positions are one-sided and not representative of all the facts.” I care deeply about facts, and if you did as well, you wouldn’t make such claims without reading my work, which took 36 years to compile. You have shown no interest in taking the time or effort to even review, let alone understand, the facts. How can you determine that I am lacking in them? You haven't demonstrated that you're qualified to comment on the existence or non-existence of these facts. Your refusal to engage with the grievances of others suggests a preference for remaining complicit in your comfort zone. Is it unkind of me to state the obvious?

Your claim: "The Bible states clearly in Psalm One not to take the counsel of the ungodly." I may be wrong, but I think you’re implying that, as a non-Christian, my counsel shouldn’t be heeded. First, I'm not so sure I am "ungodly." Are you? Regardless, I understand such a perception is to be expected. This is precisely why I refer you to the scriptures, which clearly demonstrate the wrongs that have been, and continue to be, committed. Consider me a donkey, like the one in Numbers 22 who spoke to Balaam. Pay attention to the message. I believe your faith teaches that God's words can come from the most unusual and unexpected places, and they are meant to be noticed and heeded.

You said, "I will also state on this subject that he stated MANY times from the pulpit that people should follow their doctor's advice and take their medications." I don’t doubt he has said this at times. However, I have personally witnessed him advocating the opposite for many years, and I have numerous testimonies from others saying the same. If the current teaching is that members should consult with doctors, that is indeed a positive change.

However, if you are suggesting that because this is now the case, anyone who was previously treated differently should neither have been nor be consoled for the harm such ill-advised counsel caused, here we differ. When I was institutionalized, the doctors urgently requested a meeting with my father and me, but he refused. Conversely, when I was an outpatient, he had a church member try to act as my therapist. When I informed the therapist, Dr. Mastrelio, that I would only continue sessions if my father paid half the fee, my father's refusal to do so revealed the true nature of his interest in my seeing this specific therapist—one under his control.

Had you read my book, you would already know this. It’s not a "woe is me" story but an anecdote to illustrate my point. The harm caused by such ill advice should not be dismissed simply because the stance has now changed.

You also said, “I expect you will slant things to suit your own purposes.” Why would I engage in the very behavior I have fought against? I strive to be different from those who manipulate the truth. I have meticulously documented and presented evidence of such manipulation being done to me and to others, which I vehemently oppose. I have invited you to join me in this fight for truth. Our dialogue, the text exchanged between us, will be presented truthfully and accurately, exactly as it has been shared.

Lastly, déjà vu. Once again, you have said much but have not answered my sole question: Do you wish me to conceal your name? Please don't take this harshly; to me, it's simply an interesting observation. I cannot help but notice such things.

I hope I have addressed your questions adequately. If you need further clarification, please let me know. As for me, I have no further questions for you, except for the one regarding your name.

12Daniel MazurA final appeal for evidence and integrityI return to the questions of honesty, evidence, and the meaning of COR Values.Tuesday, July 16, 2024 8:23 AM

From: Daniel Mazur

Sent: Tuesday, July 16, 2024 8:23 AM

To: Christian

Subject: RE: Seeking Change

Christian,

Your assertion, "I expect you will slant things to suit your own purposes," is profoundly troubling. On what grounds are you questioning my integrity? I have provided you with concrete evidence illustrating how others have manipulated facts to serve their own interests—more accurately, lied about me—yet you have dismissed this information as mere hearsay. Can you name a single instance where I have acted dishonestly? What is the basis of your attack on my character?

As I have repeatedly emphasized, I am fighting against precisely this kind of behavior—dishonesty and the manipulation of facts to serve personal interests. This very issue is central to my book, "COR Values." In the opening pages, the title is explained: "COR Values describes a phenomenon where individuals choose 'comfort over reality,' leading to the creation of self-serving, distorted truths. The term 'COR' encapsulates the tendency of people to shape narratives and beliefs that align more with their personal desires than with objective reality."

Christian, your accusation mirrors the very injustices I have faced and that I address in my work. It exemplifies the harm caused by dishonesty and the distortion of facts—a harm that has impacted me and many others deeply. I implore you to consider the gravity of your words and the consequences of unfounded accusations.

You dismiss my concerns as hearsay. Hearsay? I provided you with the exact text messages between Bryan and myself, which I believe clearly demonstrate Bryan’s insincere responses and troubling lack of concern for the issues I raised. I asked you to present these messages to the board members. This is not hearsay; these are the documented exchanges between Bryan and me, plainly and transparently.

Are you accusing me of manipulating these texts? If you doubt their authenticity, you could easily verify the messages through forensic analysis. Must we really go to such lengths? You accuse me of being one-sided and uninterested in the facts, claiming I only focus on the negative. Is this not precisely what you are doing to me?

You claim to lack the facts, yet haven’t I provided you with many? My family and the church congregation have been instructed to avoid me; do you dismiss this directive as hearsay? You have an audio recording from me where the Church Pastor explicitly stated that associating with me would risk one’s eternal salvation. What more do you require? A professional voice analysis to prove it was your pastor speaking these words?

Again, I ask you: What have I done to make you believe I am dishonest? I ask this with great urgency because this is the very narrative I am fighting against—the lies and manipulations that have persisted for decades, including false stories about my character and integrity, which have snowballed to what I experience with you today.

I may have my faults, but as I’ve already expressed to you, my devotion is to a life of meaning and value, which inherently requires integrity and honesty. This commitment is not just personal; it is the core message of my work, "COR Values." I challenge you to reflect on the facts presented and engage in a genuine dialogue, free from the distortions and prejudices that have plagued this issue.

What more must I do to demonstrate my commitment to truth and integrity? Let us address this matter with the seriousness it deserves, seeking clarity and understanding rather than perpetuating unfounded accusations.

Understanding the Back Cover of Luke

A guide for readers before the opening pages

Below the cover image, you will find the first ten pages of Watch.
These opening pages are meant to introduce the tone, the world, and the emotional direction of the novel, not to explain everything at once.

Before reading them, this short guide explains what the back cover blurb means, what the book is about at its core, and what kind of story you are stepping into.

The question at the heart of the novel

The back cover of Watch opens with a single question:

What if the life you believed was yours was quietly arranged long before you knew how to ask otherwise?

This question is the foundation of the book.

It asks readers to consider whether a life can be shaped without force, without cruelty, and without anyone ever saying, you must do this. A person may believe they are choosing freely, while never having been shown that other choices were possible.

The novel is about that realization, and about what happens when it begins to surface.

What “quietly arranged” means

In Watch, control does not look dramatic. It does not come through shouting or obvious threats.

It works in ordinary ways.

Who offers help
Who gives approval
What questions are encouraged
What topics are avoided
What earns trust
What feels normal

Over time, these small influences add up. The life begins to take shape, not through force, but through guidance that feels caring.

The book asks whether kindness and control can exist at the same time, and how difficult it can be to tell the difference.

Power that doesn’t look like power

The blurb describes Watch as a story about power that does not announce itself.

This means the power in the novel does not demand attention. It blends into daily life.

It decides what is acceptable
It sets expectations quietly
It rewards cooperation
It discourages questioning

Because this kind of power feels reasonable, people often accept it without noticing how much it is shaping them.

The novel is about recognizing that influence once it has already done its work.

Care that comes with conditions

The system at the center of Watch offers real benefits.

Order
Belonging
Generosity
Protection

But these come with an unspoken expectation: silence.

Silence about doubts
Silence about discomfort
Silence about contradictions

Over time, silence begins to feel like good behavior. Like maturity. Like loyalty.

The book is not accusing individuals of cruelty. It is showing how systems can slowly teach people what not to say.

When obedience starts to feel like belief

One of the most important ideas in the blurb is the moment when obedience begins to feel indistinguishable from belief.

At first, a person follows rules because it feels safer or easier. Later, those rules begin to feel true.

The novel explores how this shift happens slowly, and how unsettling it can be to realize that some beliefs may have been learned rather than chosen.

This recognition does not arrive suddenly. It builds quietly, just as the system did.

The community at the center of the story

The community in Watch is described as having order, generosity, and quiet authority.

These qualities are not accidental. They are what make the community appealing.

Order provides stability
Generosity creates trust
Quiet authority feels reassuring

The book does not present this community as simply good or bad. Instead, it asks how environments that feel safe can also shape people in ways they may not fully see.

Protection becomes design

At first, the protagonist experiences protection. Help appears when needed. Guidance feels timely. Opportunities open.

Only later does he begin to notice patterns.

Certain paths are encouraged
Certain questions are avoided
Certain outcomes seem guided

The word design suggests intention. The protagonist begins to sense that his life is being shaped toward something, not simply unfolding on its own.

This realization is subtle, but it changes everything.

Leaving is not freedom, but reckoning

The blurb makes clear that leaving such a system does not feel like escape.

It feels like reckoning.

Leaving means facing what was accepted, what was ignored, and what was traded for safety and belonging.

The novel is not about dramatic rebellion. It is about the difficult work of understanding one’s own participation in a life that once felt secure.

Why the story moves quietly

Watch is written in a restrained, thoughtful style because the kind of control it explores is quiet.

The book focuses less on big events and more on how people slowly come to accept things they might once have questioned.

Small compromises
Small silences
Small rewards

Over time, these shape a life.

The opening pages you are about to read reflect this approach. They are meant to settle you into the rhythm of the story rather than explain it outright.

Being seen versus being free

One of the novel’s central tensions is the moment when being seen begins to feel safer than being free.

Being seen means belonging. It means being known and valued.

Freedom, by contrast, can mean uncertainty and loss.

The book explores this tension without judgment, showing how understandable it is to choose safety over independence, especially when the cost of freedom is unclear.

No clear villains, no simple answers

Watch is not a story of heroes and villains.

People can care and control at the same time. They can believe they are helping while also limiting others.

Truth in this story does not arrive all at once. It emerges gradually, and it comes with consequences.

What these first ten pages are meant to do

The pages that follow are the first ten pages of the novel.

They are not meant to provide answers. They are meant to introduce the atmosphere, the voice, and the world of the story.

As you read, you may notice:

Quiet guidance
Unspoken expectations
Moments of comfort mixed with unease
A life beginning to take shape

These early pages are the beginning of recognition, not its conclusion.

The purpose of Watch

The purpose of Watch is not to tell readers what to think. It is to invite them to notice.

To notice how lives can be shaped without force
To notice how silence can feel like loyalty
To notice how belonging can come with conditions
To notice how easily obedience can become belief

And to ask a simple, unsettling question.

Was the life I was given truly the life I chose?

To All Pastors

I offer these words not in anger, but in truth, for truth is the beginning of healing.

What does it say of a man—one who held the title of pastor, shepherd, and father—if for decades he could avoid the most sacred calling of all: to reconcile with his own son? A father who, even in his final days, spoke only in superficial tones, never daring to confront the truth that lay between them, never opening the door to accountability, never acknowledging the great silence that had endured for so many years.

What kind of gospel allows this?

And more pressing still, what does it say of a church that knew—because the son himself told them—and did nothing? A church that bore witness to a long and public estrangement, and remained still. A church that turned its concern not toward justice or compassion or repair, but toward protecting an image. An image of a man. An image of itself.

If that is what your gospel protects, what then is the cost of your silence?

And what are we to think when a new pastor assumes the pulpit with full knowledge of what came before—and still, says nothing? What are we to make of leadership that inherits not just a congregation but a legacy of wounds, and chooses complacency over clarity, image over integrity?

What kind of light does such a church offer its people, when it hides from its own reflection? What healing can be preached from the pulpit, when no healing is practiced within the walls?

I have lived this story. I was the son. I wrote it down in COR Values not to accuse, but to reveal. Because I believe that only in revealing can there be restoration. I believe that silence in the face of truth is a betrayal—not just of people, but of God, of the very Spirit churches claim to follow.

You cannot preach reconciliation while avoiding it. You cannot speak of love while excusing long-held indifference. And you cannot proclaim truth if you are not willing to face it in your own house.

This is a call not to guilt, but to courage.

To every pastor, every leader, every church: the world is watching. The children are watching. The sons and daughters who were turned away, who were labeled and dismissed, are watching. And they are asking not for showmanship, not for pageantry, not for empty declarations—but for truth, for integrity, and for love that does not flinch.

A church that cannot face its own failures has no authority to speak to the brokenness of the world.

With unwavering hope that some will choose the harder, braver path,
Daniel Robert Mazur

An In-Depth Analysis of Felix the Fluke in Beyond the Morning Light

 

Due to the many comments I have received about the story of Felix the Fluke—where readers have shared various interpretations of its symbolism and metaphors—I have decided to take the time to explain my own thoughts behind its creation. While I value the different perspectives that have been brought to me, I want to clarify the deeper meanings I intended to convey.

 

Felix as a Reflection of Alden and the Human Experience

 

The story of Felix the Fluke, embedded within Beyond the Morning Light, serves as a powerful metaphor for Alden’s personal struggles, his philosophical musings, and his relationship with his father, family, and faith. At the same time, it also reflects themes that I, as the author, have explored in my own life—particularly in my journey toward self-expression and independence. This narrative within a narrative offers a deeply symbolic reflection on existence, survival, and the human condition, drawing parallels between Alden’s personal journey and the broader truths I have sought to convey.

 

Felix, a tiny liver fluke living inside a Bengal cat named Sable, represents Alden’s own perceived insignificance in the vast world around him. Just as Felix exists within an environment he cannot fully comprehend, Alden navigates forces that shape his life—his father’s expectations, the church, societal structures—without fully understanding their origins or long-term consequences. Felix’s story mirrors Alden’s journey in several key ways:

 

  1. The Unseen Yet Sensed Presence – Felix cannot see Beatrice, the elderly woman who owns Sable, just as humans cannot see God, the universe, or other unseen forces. Yet, he senses a higher force influencing his existence. This parallels Alden’s struggles with faith and his search for meaning in a world governed by unseen influences.
  2. The Burden of Awareness – Felix becomes self-aware, recognizing that his survival depends on consuming Sable’s liver, and with that awareness comes guilt. He realizes that his natural tendencies will ultimately lead to the demise of his host. This mirrors Alden’s realization that his own self-awareness and growing independence, while necessary for his personal growth, contribute to the deterioration of his relationship with his father. Awareness, rather than bringing peace, brings inner turmoil and existential questioning.
  3. The Inevitable Role in the Cycle of Life – Felix eventually understands that he cannot change his fundamental nature. This realization reflects Alden’s own internal battle—whether to fight against the structures that have defined him or to accept them as part of his reality. The struggle for autonomy against forces beyond one’s control is a persistent theme in Alden’s life and a central exploration in my own work as an author.

 

The Connection to Alden’s Father and My Own Journey

 

A key element of Beyond the Morning Light is Alden’s relationship with his father, which is mirrored in Felix’s relationship with Sable and the unseen Beatrice. Just as Felix’s actions have consequences for beings he cannot directly perceive, Alden’s choices and struggles exist within a larger familial and societal framework.

 

However, these struggles are not solely Alden’s—they also reflect aspects of my own experience in grappling with autonomy, self-expression, and family expectations. The novel serves as both an intimate character study of Alden and an extension of my own process of breaking free from control and allowing my voice to be heard.

 

Felix and Sable’s Relationship as a Metaphor for Alden and His Father

 

Felix’s relationship with Sable encapsulates Alden’s complex and evolving connection with his father. Just as Felix is completely dependent on Sable for survival, Alden was once entirely reliant on his father’s approval, validation, and sense of structure. However, this dependency is not without consequence—Felix’s very existence erodes the health of his host, much like Alden’s growing self-awareness and independence strain his relationship with his father, ultimately leading to its demise.

 

The more Felix feeds, the more he brings harm to the entity that sustains him. In a parallel sense, Alden’s journey of self-discovery—the realization that he is an individual beyond his father’s expectations—introduces an irreversible shift in their dynamic. Awareness, in both cases, acts as a double-edged sword. Felix cannot exist without harming Sable, and Alden cannot grow into his full self without distancing himself from the influence of his father. The realization that autonomy requires separation is as painful as it is inevitable.

 

For me, as the author, this theme is deeply personal. Self-expression, particularly through writing, has been both a means of resistance and a path to liberation. Yet, this liberation has not come without a cost. Just as Alden’s journey toward self-definition leads to the unraveling of his relationship with his father, my own embrace of my voice and truth has created an unbridgeable distance between me and the person who once shaped my world. Writing has not only been an act of discovery but also an act of separation—a necessary step toward autonomy that, like Felix’s existence within Sable, alters the balance of what once was.

 

Broader Themes of Survival, Morality, and Power

 

The story of Felix also engages with Alden’s earlier philosophical reflections on intelligent creatures whose survival depends on the demise of others—a concept that extends beyond the literal parasite-host dynamic.

 

  • The Inescapability of Predation – Whether it is Felix feeding on Sable, Sable preying on smaller creatures, or humans consuming animals, life persists through the consumption of others. This raises moral questions about existence itself and whether survival is inherently exploitative. This theme resonates not only with Alden’s reflections but also with my broader inquiry into the structures that shape us—religious, societal, and familial systems that, in their own way, consume individuals.
  • Does Intelligence Change the Moral Dilemma? – Felix, unlike other flukes, is aware of his impact on Sable. Similarly, Alden’s self-awareness causes him to question his own role in the systems that shaped him. This mirrors human struggles with morality—does understanding our impact change our responsibilities, or are we simply playing out roles imposed by larger unseen forces? As the author, I have explored these same dilemmas—both intellectually and personally.
  • Control Versus Acceptance – Just as Felix cannot change his fundamental nature, Alden grapples with the idea of whether he can ever truly escape the influences of his past. His journey toward self-acceptance echoes Felix’s final realization that awareness does not always lead to change—it sometimes only leads to understanding. Similarly, as I reflect on my own path, I recognize that some structures cannot be dismantled—but they can be outgrown, transcended, and redefined through the act of storytelling.

 

Conclusion: The Power of Felix’s Story

 

The story of Felix the Fluke serves as an intricate allegory, tying together Alden’s existential reflections, his struggles with his father, and the overarching themes of faith, control, and self-awareness. Yet, it is also a reflection of my own journey, the struggles I have overcome, and the questions I continue to explore through my writing. Ultimately, Felix the Fluke is a meditation on awareness, autonomy, and the act of finding one’s voice—whether in fiction, in reality, or in the space between.

December 22, 2024

Pastor Bryan Rocine and Members of the Board,

 

The doctrine of separation within The Living Word Church is not merely a mistake of the past; it is a festering wound, a moral failure that continues to inflict immeasurable pain on those it has harmed. For decades, this doctrine has ravaged families, alienated devoted individuals, and destroyed the bonds that form the cornerstone of any healthy community. Its legacy is not confined to history; it reverberates in the present and, if left unaddressed, will haunt the Church far into the future.

And yet, the Church continues to deny the very existence of this doctrine. You claim it does not exist, that there is no policy, no teaching of separation. But I know what I have seen. I know what I have heard. Growing up in Syracuse, I witnessed this doctrine in action. I have heard it in sermons, not just in person but also broadcast over the internet after I moved to Miami. Bryan, you know this to be true because I have written to you about it repeatedly over the years. Time and again, I raised these concerns, only to be met with silence or avoidance. You have failed to address these matters, failed to engage with the truth, and failed to take responsibility for the harm caused.

I still have the letters between us, Bryan. If you need a reminder of your failure to address this issue, of your very own words spoken from the pulpit, I can send them to you again. Do you recall when I wrote to you about my concerns regarding your teachings on the need for separation from family? Do you remember, Bryan, how I warned you that I would inform the Syracuse community of your harmful actions and your belief in separating people from their loved ones? Your response was not one of accountability or willingness to engage, but a demand that our correspondence remain confidential, subtly implying that sharing your words with others could result in legal consequences. Do you remember that?

And, Bryan, do you remember what followed? A day or two later, the police arrived at my home. They claimed my father had informed them I was building a bomb with the intention of blowing up the church. They searched my home, Bryan. Do you recall me telling you this? Do you remember how I wrote to you about this, how I even documented it in my book, COR Values? These actions—your silence, your veiled threats, and the sudden police intervention—paint a chilling picture of the lengths to which you and others were willing to go to suppress the truth.

The excuses used to justify inaction are many, but none withstand scrutiny. Some claim, “It was in the past,” as though the passage of time alone absolves the Church of its sins. But time does not heal wounds that remain untreated. Others argue, “These are family matters,” as if relegating the pain caused to the private sphere relieves the Church of its moral responsibility. This dismissal not only trivializes the harm inflicted but abdicates the Church’s duty to lead with integrity and accountability. Still, others hide behind, “It’s all hearsay,” attempting to diminish the lived experiences of those who have suffered as if their voices lack credibility. This excuse is particularly insidious, for it silences the very people who have been wronged and denies their suffering a rightful place in the Church’s conscience.

And then there is the most egregious justification of all: “We no longer reject others, so there is no need to do anything.” This claim is not only insufficient but offensive. Ceasing to harm is not the same as making amends. To adopt this excuse is to ignore the ongoing ripple effects of the past—broken families, lingering pain, and lives permanently altered by rejection and alienation. It is to close your eyes to the scars left behind and pretend they do not exist. This is not progress; it is avoidance, and it is a betrayal of the very principles of accountability and healing that Christianity proclaims.

Another, perhaps unspoken, rationale for inaction is the fear of tarnishing the Church’s reputation. This fear betrays a deeper problem: the prioritization of institutional image over the well-being of the people the Church claims to serve. But what good is a spotless façade if the foundation beneath it is rotting? A Church that fears the truth more than it values justice has already failed in its mission.

Lastly, there is the excuse of complacency, the subtle yet pervasive belief that addressing the past is simply too difficult, too uncomfortable, too disruptive. But Christianity is not a faith of convenience. It demands sacrifice, courage, and an unwavering commitment to truth. To shy away from this challenge is to admit that comfort has become more important than conviction, that maintaining the status quo outweighs the call to embody the love, reconciliation, and justice at the heart of the Gospel.

You tell the congregation you are a humble servant of the Lord. You publicly admit your shortcomings, even going so far as to announce your phone number from the pulpit, inviting those harmed by so-called “mistakes” or “misunderstandings” to call you so you can ask for their understanding and forgiveness. Yet you and I both know the truth: you have no genuine interest in engaging with those who have been hurt. This is not humility; it is a façade, a carefully crafted performance to reinforce the image you wish your congregation to believe—a false portrait of yourself as humble, human, and capable of failure.

I know this because I was one of those people who called you. I reached out, seeking an honest and meaningful conversation, only to be met with refusal and indifference. It was clear to me then, as it is now, that your so-called humility is hollow, a tool used to placate those who might otherwise demand accountability.

This pattern of behavior extends beyond you, Bryan. It is clearly reflected in your son, Isaiah, another leader within your church, whom I have recently met. I will never forget the day he shook my hand in front of a group of people, including my brother Paul. He looked me in the eye and said, “I owe you one,” acknowledging the validity of my calling him out on a cowardly act, an act he openly admitted was wrong. In that moment, I forgave him, believing his words to be genuine, that he had recognized his wrongdoing and felt sincere remorse.

Yet, once the audience had dispersed and no one remained to hold him accountable, his actions exposed a starkly different reality. He reverted to the same cowardly behavior, revealing not only his dishonesty but also the deeply troubling nature of leadership that has permeated not just the leadership of your church but your family as well. This conduct is profoundly disgraceful, standing as a direct betrayal of the principles the Church is meant to uphold. It erodes the foundation of trust, integrity, and moral leadership that the Church is called to embody.

I write to you today not as a Christian, but as someone who has been immersed in its teachings since childhood. Although I am an atheist, I cannot ignore the profound beauty and moral clarity embedded in the values your faith professes to uphold. I understand its call for compassion, its pursuit of justice, and its unwavering commitment to truth. In addressing you, I am choosing to engage with the language of your faith, to invoke the scripture that forms the foundation of your beliefs, in order to highlight the glaring contradiction between the Church’s actions and the mission it claims to serve.

 

The rejection and ostracization of good people, the destruction of fellowship and family bonds, are not just betrayals of individuals. They are betrayals of the Gospel itself. Christianity, at its core, demands accountability. Its teachings call for love, reconciliation, and the restoration of what has been broken. The words of Jesus leave no ambiguity: “Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: Love your neighbor as yourself” (Matthew 22:37-40). To divide families, to sever bonds of love and community, is to act in direct opposition to these commands.

The doctrine of separation is a betrayal of Christianity itself. At its heart, your faith esteems family as sacred. The Apostle Paul declares, “If anyone does not provide for his relatives, and especially for his immediate family, he has denied the faith and is worse than an unbeliever” (1 Timothy 5:8). How, then, can The Living Word Church justify tearing families apart, severing the bonds of love and connection that form the bedrock of human life? Community, too, is fundamental to Christian teaching. Jesus said, “By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another” (John 13:35). Yet the Church’s actions have been marked not by love but by exclusion, judgment, and rejection.

These choices are not merely a betrayal of individuals; they are a betrayal of the Gospel itself. Scripture warns against hypocrisy: “Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You shut the door of the kingdom of heaven in people’s faces. You yourselves do not enter, nor will you let those enter who are trying to” (Matthew 23:13). This is not a hypothetical warning; it is the precise indictment the Church now faces.

I write to you with the weight of personal experience. My own family has borne the crushing burden of this doctrine. Some members, now gone, left this world carrying the scars inflicted by the Church’s rejection. Others remain, their lives irreparably shaped by wounds that never healed. I refuse to allow their suffering, and the suffering of countless others, to be erased by indifference or buried under the veil of willful ignorance. This is not a matter of preference for me; it is a moral obligation. To remain silent would be to betray not only those I love but also the principles of truth and justice that transcend belief systems.

Let there be no misunderstanding: this matter will not rest. It will be addressed, with or without your cooperation. The tide of awareness among members of The Living Word Church is rising, and it will not be turned back. You do not face a choice between addressing this issue or ignoring it. You face a choice between leading this reckoning with wisdom and humility or watching it unfold beyond your control. Every moment you resist deepens the damage to the Church’s legacy, its mission, and its people.

Let me be clear. I will not stop. I will not falter. This effort to demand accountability and reconciliation will continue until one of two outcomes is reached: either these injustices are resolved, or my time on this earth comes to an end. This is not a threat; it is a promise born of conviction. I have no desire for discord within the Church, but I will not allow peace to be purchased at the expense of truth. The harm inflicted must be acknowledged. The wrongs must be owned. The wounds must be healed. Anything less is complicity in ongoing injustice.

Pastor Rocine and members of the Board, this is your moment. This is your opportunity to lead, not by preserving the status quo or evading discomfort, but by rising to the moral and spiritual responsibility that your positions demand. Acknowledge the truth. Take responsibility for the harm done. Guide the Church toward healing and reconciliation. To do otherwise is to reject the principles of love and justice that your faith commands and to embrace a legacy of silence and failure.

This is not a question of preference; it is a certainty. The reckoning will come. The only question is whether you will face it with courage and integrity or wait until circumstances force your hand. The time for action is now. The decision is yours.

Respectfully and resolutely,

Daniel Robert Mazur

Seeking Change Through Texting

July 8th, 2024

 

Earlier this year, I received an invitation to a wedding—a rare and significant event in my life. Apart from my father’s funeral and a nephew’s graduation ceremony, it was the first major family gathering I had ever been invited to attend. At sixty-two, with two brothers and two sisters, all married with many children, I had missed countless milestones over the years—birthdays, weddings, and more. This time, however, I vowed to attend.

 

I flew to Syracuse during the last week of June, filled with anticipation. The wedding was not just an opportunity to reconnect with my niece and her family but also a chance to spend precious time with my mother before returning to Miami. I booked a few extra days, and the excitement of reuniting with loved ones and being part of such a joyous occasion made this trip unforgettable.

About a week before my departure, it dawned on me that being in Syracuse meant I would likely cross paths with many people from the church—a prospect that stirred a mix of emotions. Among them was Bryan Rocine, who had recently made a public appeal from the pulpit, offering his personal cell phone number to anyone he had harmed, inviting them to reach out so he could apologize. This was an opportunity too significant to ignore.

The timing felt right, so prior to leaving for Syracuse, I decided to take him up on his offer. However, instead of calling and talking with him, I chose a more measured approach and initiated a text dialogue. As my fingers hovered over the screen, I couldn’t help but wonder what lay ahead in this conversation. Would it be a step toward healing or just another painful reminder of the past? With a deep breath, I typed my first message, setting in motion a dialogue that would challenge my perceptions and potentially reveal the true nature of his intentions.

From the onset, I harbored deep doubts about whether Bryan Rocine had truly changed. If genuine transformation had taken place, surely the many people he had wronged would have told me. To me, his public announcement felt more like a self-serving gesture—a declaration designed to appease the congregation and suggest that nothing more needed to be done or said.

However, family members and a few others assured me that Bryan had indeed changed and that the church was now committed to caring for those who had been harmed in the past. Reluctantly, I decided to extend the benefit of the doubt and engaged in the written exchange.

Each text message I received was scrutinized; each response I sent was deliberate. The words exchanged between us would reveal whether his proclaimed repentance was genuine or just a facade. Has he truly changed? Read the text dialogue and decide for yourself.

 

The Text Exchange

Dan: Why would a man publicly announce his availability for anyone to contact him? What is the true message here? Is it genuinely for those who may wish to reach out to him, or is it merely a performance for the world to perceive him as accessible and accountable?
If this person sincerely believes he has unjustly harmed others, should he not already know who these individuals are and take the initiative to reach out to them directly?
Imagine a scenario where someone spends thirty-six years meticulously documenting the ways in which he and others have been harmed by this man, compiling these details into a manuscript and placing it before him. Such an effort far exceeds any public declaration of willingness to accept calls from those wronged, ostensibly to discuss and make amends. Yet, this manuscript would be ignored, and any attempt to bring it to light would be vehemently suppressed and attacked.
What does this say about such a person? He has constructed a world that he and others inhabit, a realm he will defend at all costs. He is a consummate salesman, perpetually presenting his pitch to anyone at his doorstep. Until his final days, he will fabricate stories to preserve the comforts he has created for himself.
This is not a man of integrity, honor, or character to be admired. He is someone from whom people need to protect themselves, lest they fall victim to his deceitful machinations.

Bryan: Is this Daniel? What do you prefer to be called? Dan? Danny? Daniel?
Please forgive me for the unnecessary, unhelpful pain I have caused you. I forgive you for the same.
Judging by the caustic and cynical position of your text we may not be able to continue with any communication.

Dan: To seek my forgiveness and, in the same breath, label my message as caustic and cynical, does not reflect the actions of an honest or sincere individual. Have you ever considered that true contrition and criticism cannot coexist in a single plea for forgiveness? True repentance demands humility and self-reflection, not judgment and reproach.

Dan: But perhaps, upon further reflection, I am mistaken, and your message is sincere. I have been wrong before, many times in fact. If you genuinely seek my forgiveness, it is a request I am bound by duty and conscience to consider. Please tell me, what is it that you believe you have done to me for which you seek forgiveness? Without this clarity, I find myself without even the option to offer forgiveness. How can I say I forgive you without knowing what I am forgiving you for?

Dan: Bryan, I ask you once more: what is it you wish me to forgive you for? What have you done that you regret, that you acknowledge has caused me harm? Are you sorry for rejecting my pleas for help when I sought your assistance in reaching out to my father years ago, unlike other pastors who showed compassion and tried to help? Are you sorry for judging me and labeling me as a rebellious son without ever having a conversation with me about my life and my relationship with my father, relying solely on the biased views of others? Are you sorry for ignoring my request to visit me and understand my perspective through the lens of those who have known me for decades here in Miami? What is it that you want my forgiveness for? Is it any of this?

How can you know what has caused me harm if you do not ask or tell me what you seek forgiveness for? What have you done? Why wouldn’t you first acknowledge your wrongdoing? What meaning could “forgiving you” possibly have without knowing what for? Maybe you don’t feel there’s anything wrong with the actions I’ve mentioned that harmed me. If this is the case, and I simply say “I forgive you,” would that not be entirely incoherent and meaningless? If you never tell me what you’ve done wrong, how can I believe that it is forgiveness you seek and not something else entirely?

In our past correspondence, I asked you many questions, most of which you refused to answer, choosing instead to disparage me. No other pastor in Syracuse treated me with the same distance and disdain as you did, claiming to know my thoughts, even going so far as to say “God is my arch enemy.” How is it that so many years have passed, and you have yet to address these wrongs? Are you different today? Do you now acknowledge that your behavior was wrong and regret it? How am I to know? Why is this so difficult for you?

Dan: What do you truly know of me, of my life? You know I was committed to a mental institution, but do you understand the circumstances? Instead of judging me as a reprobate and a God-hater, did you ever think to ask me? Did you ever consider that you might have been contributing to the damage inflicted upon me? Maybe you have, and this is what you’re asking my forgiveness for. How can you not understand how meaningless it is to ask for forgiveness without stating what for? You are a pastor, someone who is supposed to study these matters for the benefit of others.

Take this as criticism if you must, but I simply do not understand your behavior. As a leader, with many eyes on you, the responsibility of your position is immense. Should you not put every fiber of your being into getting these things right? And as a leader, should you not focus more on your own actions rather than defending your wrongdoings by pointing out that others have wronged you too?

Where is the wisdom I longed to see for decades that would have had me by my father’s side, a member of your congregation? Your position demands a higher standard, one that requires introspection and accountability. It is time to reflect on your actions and genuinely seek to understand the impact they have had on others, especially those who looked to you for guidance and support.

Dan: When the police came to my door, claiming my father told them I was building a bomb to blow up the church, did you have a hand in that? Is it too much to ask for you to tell me the truth? This occurred around the same time you wrote to me, insisting our correspondence was confidential while subtly threatening me not to disclose your comments to others. The people I know here, when told of such events, say you all are nuts, that you all are crazy people and I need to stay away from you. Why don’t you provide evidence to the contrary? What do you know about the police searching my home for a bomb or the FBI investigating me? When I’ve asked you for similar information before, your response was simply to attack my character. Should I expect differently today? Or have you changed? Will you be forthcoming? Is any of this what you seek my forgiveness for?

Dan: When the police came to my door, claiming my father told them I was building a bomb to blow up the church, did you have a hand in that? Is it too much to ask for you to tell me the truth? This occurred around the same time you wrote to me, insisting our correspondence was confidential while subtly threatening me not to disclose your comments to others. The people I know here, when told of such events, say you all are nuts, that you all are crazy people and I need to stay away from you. Why don’t you provide evidence to the contrary? What do you know about the police searching my home for a bomb or the FBI investigating me? When I’ve asked you for similar information before, your response was simply to attack my character. Should I expect differently today? Or have you changed? Will you be forthcoming? Is any of this what you seek my forgiveness for?

Dan: This matter transcends forgiveness and enters the realm of accountability, embodying the true essence of taking responsibility for past wrongs. As a pastor, it is your duty to address the injustices perpetrated against me from the very pulpit of your church. Perhaps you are unaware, but to this day, I remain estranged from my brother David. I was deeply upset when he stood before the congregation, misrepresenting my thoughts and praising you all, claiming I saw the “good” in you and how “perfect” the memorial service was. I never said such things. In fact, I had confided in him about the immense challenge it was for me to stay calm in an environment that severely tested my well-being.
I had hoped that the days of being disparaged and lied about from the pulpit, as my father did, had ended with his passing. Yet, when I expressed my distress to my brother, he showed no inclination to make amends. If you have truly changed, you should understand that seeking forgiveness is not enough. The matter must be addressed and corrected. The congregation needs to hear the truth about the past—about who I am, who I was, and what I did not say or do.
I have already taken steps to set the record straight in my book, where I speak the truth for anyone who cares to seek it. If you are a true seeker of truth, you will understand the importance of these matters and will ensure that the falsehoods spoken about me from your pulpit are corrected from that same pulpit. Yet, at this very moment, I have no idea if these are the matters you regret your participation in. As all this transpired, you stood there, hands folded by my father’s side. Who are you today, Mr. Rocine? Are you the same man who stood silent, or have you become someone who will confront the past and embrace the truth?

Dan: So tell me that I am wrong, that my belief in your lack of integrity has been misplaced. Assure me that doing what is right is indeed paramount to you, even when it doesn’t align with your desired outcome. Tell me that my understanding of your true nature, of who you really are, has been mistaken all these years. Proclaim that you believe in justice and truth above all, and that personal wants and desires play no part in your decision-making process, especially in matters that affect those harmed by the organization you are part of. Show me that you stand for what is right, regardless of the cost. Demonstrate to me, and to everyone who doubts, that you embody the principles you preach, and that truth and justice guide your every action.

Dan: The narrative of my experience with your church has been purposefully contorted and contrived to suit the needs of others. You have all misunderstood me profoundly. It is for these reasons that I published my book. Additionally, I have created a short video—a slide presentation—that you and others in your congregation need to see. It is something you should willingly present to your group to set the record straight.

Dan: https://youtube.com/watch?v=n2Coj-eOYaw

Dan: Your integrity is under scrutiny. Having confessed to wrongdoing, you must face the consequences with courage, not retreat. Your role as a leader, an influencer, and a pastor demands accountability and unwavering transparency.

Bryan: Thanks for your explanation. Somethings are becoming clear to me.
Please forgive me for not being a greater help to you when you were a teen when I was trying to be a good influence on the teens in the church. Shame on me I gave up on you. Please forgive me for the harshness of my emails to you some years ago.
Here’s what I am realizing. You don’t have an accurate picture of what is going on in our church community regarding yourself. No one I know sicked the FBI on you. I had nothing to do with it. Id be shocked to learn your dad did. He was very quiet about you.
There has been next to zero public statements about you. I recall very brief and uncritical, 40 years ago like, “My son asked me to stay home from church for him. I couldn’t do that. “. (I summarize.)
I have never that I remember preached a single word about you knowingly or intentionally. The church is very quiet and respectful about what we consider Mazur family business. We don’t gossip about you. We hardly think about you.
I hardly ever talk about you to anyone. And hardly ever for more than a sentence . Most of any talk is in prayer. You are not a bigger topic or a preoccupation around here than anyone else.
My texts take a long time to come back to you because I have many other people to prioritize ahead of you.

Dan: This message feels like the beginning of a meaningful dialogue, and for that, I am deeply grateful. As I reflect on the past, I harbor no resentment for any perceived lack of encouragement during my teenage years. My greater concern lies with the events that have transpired in the years that followed.
I’m unsure if you’ve read my book, but it contains crucial information that sheds light on my comments. For instance, shortly after I moved to South Florida, the FBI came knocking on my door. This was a direct consequence of my father’s actions—something you might not have known. Considering everything else that has transpired, this shouldn’t come as a shock, though it’s possible you were unaware.
You mentioned there have been “zero” public statements about me. This is not true. I have received copies of several statements embedded in the sermons of the organization you now head. I’ll share one of them with you here; it’s an audio recording from the pulpit. I would appreciate your thoughts on this message made within your church and whether you believe such a comment should be addressed or corrected. My father has claimed, and even insisted to me and others, that he has not discouraged my siblings or anyone from having a relationship with me. This is an outright lie, one of many manipulations I can prove have existed, and as a person in your position, you have a responsibility to address it. This is one of many circumstances occurring long after my teenage years that I ask you to respond to and address.
You claim not to gossip about me, yet you have written extremely harsh criticisms of my character. From where your conclusions about me originate, I can only speculate. These comments, a few of which I have already addressed in this thread, are very damaging and have compounded other false claims and attacks that have caused significant harm, not just to me, but to others as well. It’s these criticisms of yours, not anything from my teenage years, that I want you to address.
I also want to remind you of the time I invited you to Miami to meet people who know me, rather than relying on the damaging comments of others. Instead of accepting or even responding to my sincere offer, you accused me of being obsessed with you and justifying myself to you. These examples of your behavior are what concern me and deserve a proper response.
There is much more to discuss, but addressing these points would be a good start.

Dan: https://drive.datadupe.com/f/1e2a84c315aa4fe6ad8d/

Dan: You need to understand that the entire narrative surrounding my departure from my family and your church has been a gross manipulation and complete mischaracterization of the truth. I urge you to watch the video clip I sent you, if you haven’t already. It accurately represents what truly happened, unlike the false narrative constructed for you and the church members to believe. This narrative was crafted to fit a misleading image of who I am and how I should be perceived.

Dan: This false narrative endures, continuing to fuel the rift between me and family members, especially my brother David. It has become an impenetrable wall that must be torn down. Only by confronting and dismantling these misconceptions can healing begin and genuine reconciliation be found.

Dan: Before I continue with my workday, I’d like to share one more point for you to ponder. It concerns the contrasting perspectives I hold of you and my father. Throughout our communications, I have never questioned your honesty. I’ve never caught you in a lie or observed any intentional deceit. Perhaps you truly believed, at least at the time, the negative sentiments you expressed about me. I cannot say with certainty whether you are a dishonest person, but dishonesty is not something I have witnessed from you.

However, it’s crucial to recognize that my father possessed a deeply troubling characteristic. He was not just dishonest; he engaged in deceit far beyond simple dishonesty. Simply stated, as painful as it is to say this about one’s own father, my dad was not an honest man. He was capable of crafting and spreading the most untruthful stories to achieve his desires. Whether you have discovered or acknowledged this yet, you eventually need to contemplate this harsh reality. If you are ever to move forward in situations like mine and others, with a godly purpose aligned with the teachings of the Bible, you will eventually need to cross this bridge. You will need to face this most uncomfortable truth, as I have, about who my father truly was.

Did he believe in many good things? Was he a great contributor to the well-being of others? Certainly, he was. However, this characteristic you may identify as a sin had dire consequences. No matter how much good anyone does, it is vital to address such deficiencies to prevent further damaging consequences. In the end, it is not merely our actions that define us, but our willingness to confront the uncomfortable truths about those we love and ourselves. Only then can we strive for true integrity and redemption.

Dan: It’s 12:45 AM. I usually wake at 2 AM every weekday morning to begin my day. But not this morning. What you wrote to me yesterday, about my father telling you I asked him to stay home from church for me, has kept me up all night, unable to sleep. So, as I have often done when dwelling on poignant moments of my past, I turn to my pen.
The moment I read your message, I knew exactly which day you were referring to. Your message from my father—whether you recall his words clearly, partially, or exactly as he said them—brought back memories I cannot shake. I remember that day vividly, as it was during a formative time in my youth. I was going through a crisis, the specifics of which blur among many, but the significance of that moment stands out starkly.
The crisis was as severe as when I needed to speak with my father about being molested by someone in my younger years who I had just learned was coming to town and would be visiting my family. Despite my distress and the gravity of the situation, my father refused to even be late for church to address my crisis. That response shifted my concern from the crisis itself to a more devastating, ongoing issue between me and my father.
No, I did not ask my father to forfeit his presence at church that day to be with me. My request was simply for him to understand the gravity of my situation and the worth of a moment with me, even if it meant risking being late for one of his meetings. Whether he misrepresented that day to you, or if you are absolutely certain he told you I expected him to forfeit his church attendance, then he certainly did. And if he did, that encapsulates the problem between us.

Dan: During my youth, any significant event in my life was often altered by my father to fit a narrative that suited his interests. For instance, in my book, I recounted a story about a fight I got into with a school kid. The entire incident was my doing, my fault, and I needed to be admonished and to learn a lesson about the wrong I did. However, when I approached my father to explain what happened, despite my extreme efforts to be truthful and represent what truly happened, he would not hear it. He turned the story entirely around and made it part of his sermon the following Friday evening, about how Christians need to defend themselves when attacked by sinners.
This is just one anecdote representing my lifelong struggle to communicate with a father who not only would not hear me but was willing to present me to others in an untruthful way that suited his narrative. He molded every significant moment to fit his interests, to serve the purpose of his church and other ambitions, many of which I believed then, and today are very good, but not worthy of the many deceptive means I observed his accomplishments achieved by.
What truly concerns me, what haunts me in the quiet hours of the night, is not merely the events themselves but the chasm they created between us. A chasm built on misrepresentation and a lack of understanding that has left me, even decades later, grappling with the lifetime of silence between us that he enforced and ensured until his dying days.

Dan: I wanted to let you know that my aunt will be at the church tomorrow. I feel very strongly that a warm hello from you would be very well received. Rest assured, I will ensure there are no concerns about any difficulties from me.

Bryan: Nice of you to give a “heads up.” Thanks.

Dan: Good morning, Bryan,
I want to express my heartfelt gratitude for making my aunt feel welcomed at the church. Despite her initial reservations, she deeply appreciated attending the Sunday morning service. A particularly significant moment for her was reconnecting with an old acquaintance and coworker from General Motors. Despite a past rift, he approached her with open arms, genuinely happy to see her. This was just one of several similar positive experiences she encountered.
For me, this experience illuminated the inherent goodness in others. Your son, Isaiah, especially stood out. I had the pleasure of spending time with him at the wedding and after the Sunday sermon. Isaiah was approachable and engaging, and our conversation left me eager to learn more about him and your family.
Interestingly, Isaiah knew very little about me, including the fact that I have published a book. This lack of awareness was surprising, especially considering I discovered yesterday that even my own niece, Natalie, was unaware of it. It seems that those I spoke with were not particularly interested in learning more about me, which was unexpected given my deep curiosity about them. This realization was both informative and eye-opening.
During our conversation, Isaiah asked why I am not a Christian. Given our shared background and exposure to the Living Word Church, I found it difficult to provide a concise answer in the moment. Interestingly, it was my nephew, Davie, a close friend of Isaiah, who told him everything he knew about me. The only thing he knew was simply that I am an atheist. I found it intriguing that this was what came to mind when asked about who I was. Additionally, my nephew had confided in me that intimate relationships with non-Christians, people like me, were not possible for him. This revelation was profoundly impactful and is crucial to understanding my perspective.
In retrospect, I believe a chapter from my book encapsulates my reasons for not being involved in your church and why my beliefs have diverged from those in attendance. This chapter delves into the theme of family and the potential for positive relationships between people of differing beliefs. It explores how these relationships, once full of promise, were shattered by stringent dogma that, in my view, needed to be more flexible to keep good people together instead of apart. This rigid adherence to unyielding doctrines, I believe, undermines the possibility of unity and mutual respect among individuals with diverse perspectives. The chapter seeks to convey the profound impact of these dynamics on my own journey and relationships.
If Isaiah is interested in knowing more about me and my perspective, could you kindly provide him with the following link to this chapter?
https://drive.datadupe.com/f/6d9983bda451435781ab/
Once again, thank you for greeting my aunt and making her feel welcome on Sunday morning. Your kindness did not go unnoticed.

Dan: Your sermon last Sunday morning, titled “The Power of Repentance,” left a profound impact on me. You began by referencing Mark, where John the Baptist preached repentance for the forgiveness of sins, drawing the entire Judean countryside and the people of Jerusalem to confess their sins. You emphasized the transformative power of repentance, asserting that it can alter the course of one’s life. Repentance, you stressed, offers a pathway to forgiveness, severing the chains of wickedness that bind us to our past and preventing it from dragging us into the depths of despair.
You explained that repentance involves both intellect and emotion, compelling us to feel genuine sorrow for our wrongdoings. This change in attitude moves us away from fault-finding and toward self-reflection. Quoting Jeremiah, you lamented how few people genuinely repent, asking, “What have I done?” You urged us to ask the Lord this crucial question, and to follow it with, “What shall I do?”—a significant step in the process of repentance.
After the sermon, my mother, aunt, Jody, and I dined at The Waterfront Tavern in Central Square, where the sermon became the central topic of our conversation. The emphasis on forgiveness resonated deeply with me, sparking hope for a meaningful dialogue with you. I listened intently to your sermon and engaged in discussion with my family and friend, Jody.
I shared with Jody how my ears perked up when you spoke of repentance and forgiveness. Your repeated call to ask, “What have I done?” and “What shall I do?” filled me with excitement and hope. It struck me that just as we seek forgiveness from God through repentance, we must also seek forgiveness from those we have wronged. This vital aspect seemed missing from the sermon, and I hoped it might appear in your concluding remarks.
When I expressed this to Jody, she responded, “Well, the service is only so long. Brother Bryan can’t fit everything into one sermon.” To which I replied, “Do you mean the message I just shared with you—something you clearly understand—delivered in less than sixty seconds?”
My visit with my family lasted an entire week, from one Wednesday to the next. Though the invitation to my niece’s wedding required fewer days, I chose to stay longer to spend precious time with my aging mother. This extended visit allowed for many moments of deep conversation between us, often centering around the current and past activities of our family and the church, some of which I have already shared with you.
Throughout this past week, my mother has increasingly acknowledged the past wrongdoings of her church, my father, and herself. She has continually sought my forgiveness for her role in these events—transgressions she has confessed and for which I have long forgiven her. Our conversations have revealed her growing understanding of my beliefs, and she often says, “Danny, you’re not an atheist; I just don’t believe it.” To this, I respond, “Mom, today I am; tomorrow I may be something else.”
She insists, “But you believe in God. You must, I can tell.” I reply, “Well, if He exists, where can I find Him—in your church?” This gives her pause, as she has come to realize the extent of the wrongs, deceit, and harmful behavior that have made it impossible for people like me, who have strived to live according to Christian principles, to remain connected not only to the church but also to their own family.
During my visit, I had the opportunity to visit Mary Sorrendino on Monday. As you’re aware, Mary once attended the Living Word Church and even taught Sunday School there for about ten years. I recently read her book, Misery to Ministry, where she recounts a traumatic event she and her sister experienced when they first attended the church.
Mary’s sister was about to deliver a child, but tragically, the baby was stillborn. Not knowing how to handle the situation, Mary called our home to speak with my father, her pastor. My mother answered the phone and told Mary that the church does not handle such matters and that there was nothing they could do. There was no offer of sympathy or mention that the church would pray for her sister and her family.
Furthermore, due to the church’s doctrine against secular counsel, no external support was sought. Mary’s sister, adhering to the church’s teachings, refrained from seeking the necessary help. Consequently, they endured greater and unnecessary suffering, difficulties that could have been mitigated with proper counsel and support.
Considering everything thus far, I intend to send another message to my mother. If she is truly interested in my belief in God, she has the capacity to demonstrate a quality that, if He exists, He would surely possess. I have often stated that while I do not yet know where God is, I do know where He is not.
I would ask my mother to show me that, unlike so much I’ve seen in the past, a member of the Living Word Church has the courage to do what the Bible says and embody the principles you preach. The truth of Mary’s claims and the accuracy of her memories—do these even matter? Do we need a witness? The fact is, Mary and her sister were hurt.
What if my mother found the courage to invite Mary and her sister over for coffee? What if she allowed them to express their pain without judgment? My God, the woman lost her child. Is it too late? Is it ever too late to show love, care, and concern for another? To acknowledge where we have fallen short and ask for forgiveness?
This gesture could be a profound act of healing. It would demonstrate the true essence of repentance and forgiveness, offering a tangible example of living out the principles of compassion and empathy. It would show that faith is not just about belief but about action—about reaching out to those we have wronged and seeking to make amends. This is the God I would believe in, a God reflected in the courageous acts of those who follow Him.
Am I saying this would make me believe in God or in His involvement with your church? Maybe it would, maybe it wouldn’t. But it is in such places, through such actions, that I would continue to observe closely. I am searching, and if I found a place aligned with what I know to be right, I would want to delve deeper, eager to discover what I do not yet know. I recognize truth when I see it, and I am drawn to it.
As I’ve said, I will convey this message to my mother. However, as her pastor, your involvement could significantly impact Mary and her sister and my mother. If you spoke with my mother and facilitated a meeting with Mary and her sister, the gesture would be powerful.
As you’ve preached, the sin that does not lead to death is the sin that is quickly repented of. I will send you a copy of the passage from Mary’s book detailing what happened. It is my hope that you act swiftly upon this opportunity. If not, I will be the one providing my mother and others the chance to benefit from this experience.
This moment could be a testament to the true spirit of repentance and forgiveness, demonstrating that faith is not just about words but about actions. It could bring healing and reconciliation, showing that the church is a place where love and understanding prevail. This is the God I could believe in—a God reflected in the courageous and compassionate acts of His followers.

Dan: From “Misery To Ministry”
Bill was coming out to church with Toni.  Back in 1977, on Christmas day, Toni had miscarried in the 16th week.  I was in England at the time.  Toni’s baby would have been 7 months younger than my second son, Jason.  It was hard for her, but Toni was taught not to count her chickens before they hatched.  So, she just tried to think that it was not a baby and she shouldn’t be upset.
Toni got pregnant shortly after she accepted Christ, and I was excited!  I thought, How awesome this is! Eric was one year old and would be two in April; Toni’s baby was due in June 1982.  We always thought that we would have our children at the same time or very close in age.  Although Jason and Toni’s other baby would have been the same age, I was glad that Eric would be just two years older than this baby.
I planned for the baby shower to be when Toni was in her eighth month.  That way if she delivered early the baby should be okay.  After having Chuckie six weeks early and Jason ten weeks early, I knew how fragile life is.
We had a surprise baby shower at my home and invited a lot of family members.  Everyone was so excited because they felt terrible when Toni lost that other baby in the fourth month in 1977.  Bill’s daughter Tami was there and was also excited, because she was going to have a little brother or sister.  Tami was 7.5 years old; she was a sensitive little girl.
Tami said to me, “I hope what happened that last time won’t happen again.”  I said, “Sweetheart, that won’t happen.  She’s almost due….”  I went over to the trailer where Toni and Bill lived.  Bill had put the crib together, and Toni was very excited.  But I thought I heard God say that no baby would sleep in this crib in this house. 
About two weeks later I was sitting at the dinner table and I had this overwhelming sense that something was wrong with my sister.  I said to my husband, “Oh my God!  I feel like something is wrong, like Toni is sick or dying !!!!
Chuck knew how I had had dreams in the past that came true or feelings that had meaning.  I immediately called Toni; she was taking a nap, and she was very tired.  I asked how the baby was, and she said “Good, but it was weird that the baby kicked really hard earlier.”  I said I was just checking on her because I was worried.  “Don’t worry, I’m okay, just tired.”
The next day Toni said, “Mary, the baby’s not moving anymore.”
“Well, Toni, there’s not much room for the baby.”
A few days later Toni had an appointment with her OB/GYN, Dr. Ziver Huner.  When he went to listen for the heartbeat, there was silence.  He immediately asked if she was alone.  She said no, Bill had come with her.  Then Dr. Huner asked him to come in, and they talked and set up an ultrasound to be done immediately.  Toni went for the test and was very confused.  As they went down the hall Bill knew what was going on, but Toni was not getting it.  She asked Bill, “What are they going to do now to get the heartbeat back?” She said she felt the Lord say that everything would be okay.
She returned to the office and Dr. Huner told her and Bill that their baby had died.  Toni was unable to process the information…. He offered counseling.  Toni said no, she thought that it was WRONG to meet with a counselor because the church we attended spoke against it, and she wanted to do the right thing. At this church counseling was not recommended, and anyone who did see a counselor was somehow in error.
I was home when Toni and Bill left Dr. Huner’s office.  Bill knew that he had to bring Toni to see me.  I looked out and saw them getting out of the car, and I KNEW!  God said, “I am in control.”  I was devastated!!!!  Toni was devastated!!!!
I called the pastor’s house.  It was a Friday, and being Catholic I wondered what they would do to help us.  I was recently baptized and Toni was attending regularly.  The preacher’s wife got on the phone.  I was very upset and asked if she knew my sister.  She said yes, she had seen her in church.  I went on and told her that her baby died and that we would need a pastor or something like that for the funeral arrangements.  I asked, “What do you do in these situations?”  She said, “Nothing.  We do nothing.”  She never said she was sorry – just “nothing,” like it was no big deal!  She didn’t even say they would pray.
I thought, Oh…this church is much different than what I was brought up in.  I felt hurt by the lack of care and concern for a family in the church that was experiencing a devastating situation.  Although this did not make sense, I thought that God had sent me to this church and we were just expected to lean on God.  After their response I thought that I was wrong to expect anything from them. I did not trust my feelings or thoughts, so I assumed that I was wrong for contacting them. 
Finally, on June 1, 1982 Toni gave birth to her stillborn daughter, Therea Ann Wood.  Toni never went to counseling and therefore was not prepared for the birth.  She pretended that she was not going through this.  Although she did do some grieving, she never held Theresa.  The nurses at Community General Hospital were great.  Bill did look at their daughter and said she just looked like she was asleep.  She had dark hair, and later Toni found out from the nurse that she had really long eyelashes and she weighed 1 lb. 7 oz.  Later in the day Toni asked if she could see the baby now and maybe hold her… but it was too late.  If she had counseling she would have been prepared for this and would have known that she could have held the baby.
Toni was traumatized by the event.  She worked at a retail store on Erie Boulevard, and many customers asked her if she had a boy or girl. Tini told them she had a little girl but she was stillborn.  The customers and her co-workers were wonderful and compassionate to my sister. It was very difficult working in public with so many individuals having contact with Toni.

Bryan: Hi Dan. Thank you for listening so intently to the message of such an imperfect messenger as I. Your recall is almost perfect.
1. Right or wrong, I did intentionally include the subject of our human relationships and person-to-person sin. I am sure you recall something like this: “Don’t take this message as being for someone on the other side of the aisle. THEY should repent.” I’ll explain. I thought the Lord wanted us to focus on first things first — our relationship with Him. But of course you may be right. Shoulda included our person-to-person relationships as part of an inseparable package. I often operate under the principle “less is more,” sometimes to the detriment of the bigger picture.
2. I don’t know how to satisfy you when it comes to the Toni S story. What your mom did and said is coming to us as hearsay. I know your mom very well, and I’m not about to doubt or investigate her tender and compassionate nature based on hearsay.
3. Re your challenge, that you may believe in God when you find people who live sincerely in obedience to the teaching of Jesus… don’t throw down that gauntlet. Judge God on His own merit not on mine or anyone else’s. I fall pathetically short. But He sent His Son to pay the price of our sins. What He did for us is enough to inspire undying faith and loyalty.

Dan: Thank you for responding, Bryan. I understand your emphasis on personalizing the message, and I recall your mention of it that Sunday morning. However, my concern remains. It is crucial to openly communicate what we need forgiveness for. This has been my message from the beginning and remains so now.
You mentioned, “I don’t know how to satisfy you.” But it’s not about satisfying me; it’s about recognizing the validity of my points, which align with what God requires of us. The truth of the story isn’t as important as the moral implications. When people come to you claiming they’ve been wronged, do you ask for a witness? Isn’t it more important to show compassion and concern, regardless of evidence?
Consider the story of Mary and her sister’s loss. Whether a child truly died or the accuracy of the occurrence isn’t the point; the real issue is how we respond with empathy and support. This experience should teach us to be more compassionate and to encourage others to seek appropriate counseling, whether secular or otherwise. Regardless, as I’ve mentioned, should you not be willing to participate in this opportunity to help my mother, Mary, her sister, and others, I will certainly be the one to do so.

Dan: I awoke this morning with an eerie feeling, one that evokes memories of my conversations with my late father.  As I write to you, I am reminded of the profound dialogues we shared. My father, like you, held the position of pastor, and he too struggled with the weight of his responsibilities.
Despite my repeated requests, I still do not know if you have read my book. Your reluctance to engage in open and honest dialogue with me has left me feeling unheard and misunderstood. When I inquired about presenting my offer to your son, your response was absent. When I tried to discuss the disparaging comments you made about me years ago, you closed the door to any meaningful conversation. Your initial response to my first message indicated that a dialogue was unlikely due to my perceived caustic and cynical position. However, it is clear to anyone that I have approached you with sincerity and a genuine desire for understanding.
This situation reminds me of my early mornings with my father. While my siblings were at school and my mother was teaching kindergarten at the Academy, my father would approach me, seeking my opinion on handling sin within the church—an elder molesting his children, members engaging in fornication, and such. Despite offering my thoughts, he often chose to keep such matters hidden to maintain the church’s facade. Yet, these were not the most disturbing conversations; rather, it was those where I implored him to show more compassion and understanding.
Had my father opened his heart and relinquished his need for control, my mother would have been spared decades of separation from loved ones, including her sister and parents. His insistence on isolation and stringent actions to maintain separation from those he deemed capable of diminishing his control of others caused immense damage. Today, my mother’s parents are gone, and she can never amend that loss. However, she has found solace in a renewed relationship with her sister and others, including me, the very person my father stripped away from her in his efforts to control and isolate.
Now, I see the same pattern repeating with you. Your door is closed, and you resist any effort to reunite loving people. Outsiders often describe your church as one devoid of love. This perception stems from the lack of compassion, empathy, wisdom, and understanding. Like my father, who saw himself as a simple small-town preacher, you project yourself as a humble servant of God. Yet, your actions suggest otherwise.
As a pastor, it is your duty, as mandated by the scriptures, to facilitate the coming together of people who have faced life’s challenges. What is required of you, as it was of my father, is simple: step aside and allow the spirit to move.
Please, Pastor Bryan, consider opening your heart and embracing a path of compassion and empathy. Let us work together to reunite those who have been separated, to heal wounds, and to foster a community grounded in love and understanding.

Bryan: I have accountability to a group of experienced men and women of faith. I am honest with them about my failings and keep them appraised of my actions and communications. They have the power to censure and/or fire me. They decide how to take care of me. I would not want it any other way. You simply are not in a position to be part of that group.
I literally don’t have time, energy, or interest in giving you that kind of relationship with me. In fact, it would be inappropriate and impossible. Cmon, Dan, you should understand that.
Since you are so desperate to know about me and your book, I have not read it. I don’t plan to read it. I really don’t relish telling you this.
 

Dan: Hi Bryan,

Fortunately, you won’t need to fabricate stories to distance yourself from me. I live far away, and you may find solace in knowing that I will no longer seek answers or further discussion from you. Yet, before we part ways, I wish to leave you with a final reflection on the matter that began this thread: forgiveness.

Your recent comments about my supposed obsession with you, echoing past remarks for which you sought forgiveness, and your ongoing reluctance to address my concerns, hint at a lack of understanding or compassion. Despite this, should it matter to you, I forgive you for both the past and present wounds inflicted by your words.

Know this: while empathy and understanding seem absent in your responses, I harbor no resentment or ill feelings toward you. After this message, you will no longer be troubled by my outreach. Despite your disregard for my concerns, my door will always remain open, just as it is with my brother David. Should you ever wish to discuss something that weighs on your mind, I will not judge you for your past or present actions. I will gladly listen, offer my full attention, and do my best to support you in any sincere matter you bring forth.

Life is hard, and we all make mistakes. I have made many and will make many more. But when I recognize them, I strive to address them with compassion, empathy, and understanding, especially when they affect others. Good luck to you, Bryan, and my best wishes for your future endeavors.

The Beginning of COR

I grew up in Liverpool, a serene suburb of Syracuse, cradled in the heart of central New York State. Tucked away roughly 250 miles northwest of the bustling streets of New York City, it offered a quiet contrast. My mother, whose maiden name was Fannie Fortino, was immersed from birth in the vibrant culture of a large Italian family. Although she had just one sibling, my Aunt Maryjane, she was intricately connected to a sprawling network of cousins.

 

Life in our family was modest and unpretentious, with little emphasis on professional aspirations. On a farm along Bear Road, where my mother and her relatives were raised, school often took a back seat to the relentless demands of farm work—planting, harvesting, and tending to vegetables became their daily rhythm. Academic pursuits were secondary; neither my grandparents, my mother, nor her sister completed high school. My grandfather poured his life’s sweat into the nearby steel mill from which he eventually retired, carrying only the weight of his memories. My grandmother, meanwhile, spent her working years on the monotonous line at the Resnick Pocketbook Factory. She never did learn to drive, and I distinctly remember the anticipation in the factory parking lot, as my mother and I waited to catch sight of her at the end of each workday, signaled by the piercing sound of the five o’clock whistle.

 

 

In stark contrast to the gentle rhythms of farm life in Liverpool, my father’s early years in New Jersey were marked by shadows and struggles. As the eldest of five siblings and the only child from his mother’s previous relationship, he was raised by a stepfather. Though raised Catholic, his family life lacked the spiritual daily expressions that were integral to my mother’s upbringing. His childhood memories were not filled with warmth and camaraderie but were instead overshadowed by a pervasive sense of alienation and despair.

 

Fate intervened when my parents, still in their teens, met at my grandfather’s camp on Oneida Lake near Syracuse—a serendipitous encounter, given that my father’s aunt owned the neighboring camp. The sparks between them ignited swiftly, leading to a whirlwind courtship and marriage. My mother was just seventeen, and my father, twenty, when they exchanged vows. Following the wedding, my mother relocated to New Jersey to join my father, who was making a living as a commercial artist. Yet, the absence of her close-knit family circle soon weighed heavily on her. The yearning for the familiar comfort of home and the strong bonds she had left behind in Syracuse grew unbearable. Financial constraints initially held them back, but eventually, the pull of family grew too strong to resist, and they moved into the welcoming arms of my mother’s parents’ home.

 

My father was a man driven by relentless ambition and an entrepreneurial spirit. Starting his career journey with modest beginnings, he went door-to-door, capturing and selling family portraits. This grassroots endeavor eventually secured him a stable position as an artist at a local agency. It wasn’t long before his hard work enabled us to buy our own home, marking the first of many milestones in his professional life. Yet, his entrepreneurial spirit was far from satisfied; he soon ventured into starting his own business.

 

During my childhood, the rhythms of our family life were marked by frequent visits with family. My weekdays and weekends were filled with trips to my grandparents’ house and time spent with a multitude of cousins, as well as serene Sundays at the Presbyterian church perched atop the city’s nearby hill. While my mother, sister, and I cherished these familial bonds, my father divided his time between work, his outdoor hobbies like hunting and fishing, and quiet moments spent with the newspaper.

 

 

1970 was a pivotal year that brought significant changes to our lives. I was nine when we moved from our cozy one-story home in Bridgeport to a more spacious four-bedroom, two-story residence in Liverpool. At that time, my Aunt Maryjane had ventured to Houston, Texas, to start a new life. Coincidentally, my father was also scheduled to be in Houston, competing in a national rifle shooting contest against both military and civilian sharpshooters. During this trip, Aunt Maryjane invited him to a church meeting. Despite initial reservations, he agreed to attend and experienced a profound spiritual awakening that drastically altered the course of his life. Upon returning from Texas, he made the life-changing decision to leave his burgeoning business and dedicate himself to preaching. Our family home in Syracuse became a bustling center of fellowship, which gradually expanded to other homes and eventually to a dilapidated church in the town of Euclid. As the congregation grew, we moved from one church building to another, marking new chapters in an expanding community outreach.

 

As the church’s influence widened, so too did the strictness of its doctrines. What began as subtle shifts in ideology soon crystalized into a rigid framework that distinctly isolated us from those not in sync with our new way of life. By the time my senior year of high school rolled around, I found myself increasingly at odds with the rigid beliefs that had come to define our family’s existence. With a heavy heart, I voiced my disinterest in the church, bracing for the possibility of being cast out from my home. Surprisingly, however, I was allowed to stay.

 

From 1979 to 1981, I lived somewhat apart from the day-to-day activities of my family. On Sundays, as my family bustled in preparation for church, bickering over unplugged hair dryers and prolonged bathroom use, I sought refuge under a pillow, trying to muffle the sounds of their arguments. Throughout the week, I unwillingly became a confidant to my father, who expressed his growing frustrations with church matters, discussing congregants’ fornication, gossip, and other assorted sins. This period was also marked by an escalating breakdown in our community ties, culminating in 1981 when my own grandparents were excommunicated.

 

My refusal to sever ties with them precipitated the inevitable: I was instructed to leave my home. This was a harrowing moment, filled with deep pain, and I detailed the emotional ordeal in a heartfelt letter to my brother David, an excerpt of which is included in my book.

 

 

For the subsequent six years, my attempts to bridge the gap with my family were met with cold rejection. This deep-seated sense of abandonment not only fueled a profound identity crisis but also propelled me toward a psychological precipice. By 1987, at the tender age of 25, this crisis culminated in my involuntary commitment to Hutching Psychiatric Center. This poignant moment in my life marks the opening of my book, beginning with its first chapter, ‘Off at Grandma’s.’ Seated on my grandparents’ sofa, enveloped in a sea of memories, I delve into the formative days of my father’s church, the uncompromising doctrines we were expected to uphold, and the series of harrowing events that led to my hospitalization. Here, I lay bare the emotional and spiritual tumult that shaped these years, setting the stage for a journey of introspection and healing.

 

 

This memoir began as a therapeutic exercise—a means to navigate my past and seek reconnection with my estranged family. Over the span of thirty-six years, these pages have transformed from personal reflections into a profound exploration of familial bonds broken and the enduring quest for authenticity amidst the pressures of conformity. Through chronicling my attempts to mend the rift with my father and understanding the stark divergences within our beliefs, I have unearthed the universal truth that diversity and genuine self-expression are not just vital for individual integrity but are also the cornerstones of resilient relationships.

 

My narrative aims not only to offer a window into my own soul-searching journey but also to resonate with anyone grappling with similar familial estrangements or identity crises. It is my deepest hope that this book will not only serve as a cautionary tale but also inspire others to cherish their bonds with loved ones, to embrace the rich tapestry of human differences, and to find the courage to stand firm in their truths. May these reflections guide you towards reconciliation and peace, not by erasing differences, but by celebrating them as the very essence of our shared humanity.

 

 

Unveiling the Core of Christianity and the Spirit of Its Followers

In contemplating what it means to identify oneself as a Christian, one embarks on a profound exploration of faith, belief, and the essence of spirituality. This reflection is not intended as a sweeping judgment of the Christian community at large, for such a diverse and multifaceted group defies simple characterization. Instead, it is a personal observation, shaped by years of introspective thought and a life journey deeply intertwined with a Christian upbringing, from childhood through the complex weave of experiences among those professing to be followers of Christ.


To distill the essence of Christian belief is to navigate a vast ocean of doctrine, tradition, and personal conviction. However, from my vantage point, shaped by early exposure to a community self-identified with Christian values, a paradox emerges. It is a realization, perhaps unsettling, that the core values often attributed to the heart of Christianity—God’s love, and the virtues of honesty, bravery, empathy, and selflessness—often seemed conspicuously absent in the lived experiences within my church community. These virtues, though lauded in sermons and embedded in the teachings of Christ, were met with indifference, or even disdain, by some who professed them loudest.


Raised in an environment where self-interest and the pursuit of comfort seemed to eclipse a genuine engagement with the divine, I observed a dissonance between the preached and the practiced. The church, ostensibly a sanctuary for spiritual growth and communal support, sometimes felt more akin to a social club, its members drawn together not by a shared journey towards spiritual enlightenment or sacrifice but by the allure of comfort and familiarity.


And yet, amid this dissonance, my perspective found its own footing. It was not in the echoing halls of that church or in the superficial embrace of community that I encountered what might be called the Divine, but rather in the quiet, steadfast pursuit of the very virtues overlooked by others. In the teachings attributed to Christ, I discovered a call to transcend the ordinary, to live a life anchored not in the pursuit of personal comfort but in the embodiment of love, truth, and sacrifice. It is here, in the sincere endeavor to live out these virtues, that I find the truest expression of what it means to be Christian.


In this journey, the real essence of faith emerges not from the ostentatious displays of religiosity or the comfort-seeking tendencies of a congregation but from an individual’s quiet commitment to embodying the virtues that Christ himself exemplified. It is a path less trodden, marked by challenges and often solitude, yet it is here that one finds a profound connection to what could be considered divine—a beacon of light guiding us towards a deeper understanding of what it truly means to live a life of faith. This, then, is the essence of Christianity as I have come to understand it: a call to live a life of profound love, truth, and sacrifice, transcending the superficial to touch the very heart of what is universally humane.






    About the Title

    COR Values describes a phenomenon where individuals choose “comfort over reality,” leading to the creation of self-serving, distorted truths. The term “COR” encapsulates the tendency of people to shape narratives and beliefs more aligned with their personal desires than with objective reality. Through telling my life story, this book examines how people, driven by the COR mindset, manipulate information, rely on emotional persuasion, and even fabricate facts to shape a reality that serves their own agendas, overlooking the necessity for integrity and objectivity.

    The central allure of being COR lies in its comforting reassurance by affirming pre-existing beliefs or offering oversimplified solutions to complex issues, often based on falsehoods or half-truths. This, however, comes at a significant cost. It promotes a culture of evasion, where confronting uncomfortable truths and acknowledging the consequences of one’s actions is avoided. This avoidance fosters a societal environment where the rigorous demands of truth and reality are shunned.

    The impact of being COR is profound and far reaching. Individuals influenced by these values may find themselves unwittingly supporting harmful ideologies, participating in destructive behaviors, or isolating others based on distorted beliefs. The repercussions are not just personal, involving emotional distress and financial loss, but also societal, leading to division, conflict, and the deterioration of democratic principles. As these fabricated realities take hold, they undermine the bedrock of trust and critical thinking, essential for a healthy society.

    About the Book

    COR Values is a true and evocative story that captures the intricate dynamics of faith, family, and personal convictions. At the heart of this narrative is a pastor, deeply rooted in his beliefs of sin and salvation, who faces a profound dilemma when his wife’s sister decides to marry someone he considers a sinner. This situation challenges the very core of his teachings, which advocate for separation from sinners to maintain spiritual purity.

    The story takes a compelling turn as the pastor, in his commitment to familial unity, reluctantly promises to make peace with this new family member. The real twist, however, comes when the pastor unexpectedly develops a deep and authentic bond with his new brother-in-law, the very person he had labeled a sinner. This unexpected relationship not only brings to light the pastor’s internal struggles but also highlights the complexities and contradictions of his long-held beliefs.

    COR Values delves into the tension between doctrinal rigidity and the realities of human relationships. It presents a nuanced look at how life’s encounters can challenge and reshape our perspectives, compelling us to reconcile our professed values with our real-life experiences, and underscoring the repercussions of ignoring life’s imperative calls for change. This book is a powerful read for anyone interested in the journey of self-reflection and the challenge of confronting one’s own prejudices. It uncovers the beauty of forming significant connections in the most unexpected places and the profound, both personal and communal, repercussions of turning away from life’s prompts to evolve from our misjudgments. It’s a story about the transformative power of acceptance and the unpredictable nature of life that can lead us to question and, ultimately, deepen our understanding of our core values.

    The Story and Purpose

    In 1961, I entered the world within the walls of Saint Joseph’s Hospital in Syracuse, New York. My early years unfolded in a modest, single-story dwelling in Bridgeport, a quaint town where community and simplicity intertwined. My father, a New Jersey native, and my mother saw their paths converge following an unexpected encounter at a family camp. Barely adults, with my mother at seventeen and my father at twenty, they embarked on a journey of togetherness, sealing their bond in marriage.

    Their early family life began with a move to New Jersey, where my father worked as a commercial artist. Yet, the pull of familial bonds proved too strong for my mother, leading them back to the familiar embrace of Syracuse, where they nested within the welcoming space of my maternal grandparents’ home. This period of adjustment and growth eventually culminated in the acquisition of our Bridgeport home, marking a new chapter of stability and belonging.

    Life in Bridgeport was a blend of tradition and new beginnings. My mother, steadfast in her faith, continued to nurture us with the values of her Presbyterian upbringing, attending church with me and my older sister, Debbie. My father, however, charted his own course, finding enjoyment in the solitude of hunting or engaging in hobbies that spoke to his independent spirit.

    An entrepreneur at heart, my father co-founded Tri Art Studios, a venture that symbolized both a professional and personal milestone. Our family’s fortunes mirrored this upward trajectory, leading us to a spacious two-story house in Liverpool, complete with the trappings of suburban life. Amidst these developments, my father’s passion for rifle shooting flourished, pitting him against competitors nationwide, from military personnel to civilian sharpshooters.

    During one such competition in Houston, Texas, my father experienced a profound epiphany. Coincidentally, my mother’s sister, Aunt MaryJane, resided in Houston, and it was by her invitation that he attended a local church service. There, a moment of divine clarity struck him as the pastor’s words seemed to pierce the veil of anonymity, speaking directly to his soul. Overwhelmed by this encounter, he was consumed by a newfound conviction of God’s presence and purpose for his life, a revelation that propelled him into a fervent pursuit of his spiritual calling.

    After my father returned from Houston, discussions about God became a daily fixture in our household. Our home began hosting meetings that initially included a large contingent of cousins. I vividly recall being questioned while observing from the staircase, “Can’t you see your father has changed? Don’t you notice the glow on his face?” This query lingered in my mind as I watched my mother play the organ in the family room, peering through the ornate metal bars of the stairway railing.

    As time progressed, my father decided to leave his business behind. The religious gatherings, once confined to our living room, moved to a dilapidated church in the town of Euclid, with my father taking on the role of pastor. Under his guidance, the congregation expanded, necessitating moves to progressively larger facilities until finding its current home on Court Street Road in Syracuse.

    Aunt MaryJane, mirroring my mother’s yearning for familial closeness, returned to Syracuse and became an integral part of my father’s church. She, along with my grandparents, regularly attended the four weekly services and immersed herself in the community through friendships and numerous activities.

    The teachings at the church were stringent and constantly evolving, with a strong emphasis on adherence to its principles. One such expectation was the concept of being “equally yoked,” particularly in romantic relationships, discouraging associations with those deemed sinners. This policy limited relationship prospects to within our own congregation, branding other churches as lukewarm or misaligned with God’s expectations. However, my aunt found love outside these confines, at her workplace at General Motors, where she met a man whose character she deeply admired and eventually married.

    The pervasive discrimination and judgment against those with differing beliefs, whether religious or otherwise, motivated me to share my reflections and spurred the publication of my book. Throughout my life, I’ve witnessed firsthand the consequences of attempts to exert total control over loved ones and their environments, which restricts access to the world’s diverse perspectives on identity, origins, and potential purposes. My writing, the result of thousands of hours of work over 36 years, embodies a deep, relentless drive to illuminate and challenge the roots of division and prejudice. This imposition on individuals’ inherent rights to individuality and authenticity, arising from discrimination, fractures families and friendships, infiltrating various spheres under the guise of dogma. It’s a pattern that has become deeply integrated into my family’s religious practices, a cycle that urgently needs to be broken. My work aims to expose these divisive forces for what they truly are, advocating for an end to the dogmatism that segregates and isolates.

    More on COR

    In my hands, I visualize two spheres. Held in my right hand is the sphere of truth, symbolizing the reality underlying everything. In my left hand rests another sphere, representing our desires to satisfy both our physical and psychological needs. I perceive every decision as a balancing act between the influences of these two spheres.

    When evaluating individuals, it is their character that captures my attention. Character is the essence that sets individuals apart from one another. I seek signs of integrity, courage, honesty, loyalty, and respectfulness – hallmarks of a person’s ethical and moral fortitude. The predominance of these traits in an individual often indicates that their decisions are predominantly guided by the ‘right’ sphere, the realm of truth. Conversely, a deficiency in these qualities is likely to lead to decisions heavily influenced by the ‘left’ sphere, dedicated to physical and emotional indulgence. Those who recognize this pattern should not find it astonishing that a deficiency in character results in self-serving actions that veer away from the truth.

    It is a well-acknowledged fact across all domains of life, including religion, business, and politics, that prejudice and discrimination stem from such poor character. Indeed, these are selfish actions born from the craving for comfort, both physical and emotional, at the cost of forsaking reality and truth. The greater one’s emphasis on comfort, the ‘left’ sphere, the more one distances oneself from ‘truth’, the ‘right’ sphere.

    It is these individuals I have deemed to be ‘COR’, as they show favor of ‘comfort over reality’.