The unhallowed harvest

by Homer Greene

If any parishioner of Christ Church comforted himself with the thought that the Reverend Robert Farrar had wisely decided to forego his animadversions on the self-constituted privileges of wealth in the Church, or his appeals for social equality in the House of God, he was destined to experience a rude awakening. For, not only did the rector resume his protests and appeals from the pulpit, but he inaugurated and carried on a personal campaign among his people for the adoption of his revolutionary ideas. They were revolutionary indeed. He preached social justice, and Christian socialism. And while a critical analysis of his sermons would doubtless have failed to unearth a single unorthodox phrase, nevertheless he advocated a doctrine which learned commentators had hitherto failed to discover in the written Word of God, and which the pious and profound compilers of the Book of Common Prayer had certainly never contemplated. He dwelt much, as had been his custom, on the lowly origin and humble environment of the Saviour of mankind. He did not minimize the spiritual significance of His mission, as have some professed followers of the Nazarene in order that they might magnify Him as a social prophet. Nor had he great sympathy with those materialistic adherents of the Master who hold that the purpose of His teaching was not so much to point the way to spiritual regeneration as to arouse the Galilean peasants, by parable and precept, to a sense of their economic wrongs, and to instill into their minds a hearty desire to free themselves from the yoke of the Roman oppressor and the hard ecclesiasticism of the Jewish priesthood. He never sought to rob the Christ of any of the spiritual adornment or any of the divine attributes with which the Church from time immemorial has clothed Him. But he loved to dwell on His passion for the poor.

The rector’s gospel of social equality was rejected and resented, or accepted and cherished, according to the personal view-point of those to whom it was presented. The parish was sharply divided. There were few lukewarm adherents to either side in the controversy. Those who were not with him were against him, and against him unequivocally. Some of them went so far as to request that their names be stricken from the parish roll. Others, less impulsive and more worldly-wise, contented themselves with voluntary absence from the services of the church. Still others, and these constituted the greater part of those opposed to the new régime, unwilling to forego the privileges and customs of many years, went, with apprehensive minds, to listen to unwelcome sermons, and came away troubled and depressed.

But the congregations grew in size. Pews given up by former parishioners did not remain vacant for want of occupants. Pewholders in sympathy with the rector’s views doubled up with each other or threw their sittings open freely to the public. In one way and another room was found for all the common people who came and who heard gladly the new gospel that was being preached to them.

It is true that the roll of regular supporting parishioners was not greatly lengthened; but the prospects were bright for many additions, and there was abundance of hope for large results in the future.

It is true also that while the cost of caring for the newcomers in all the activities of church life materially increased the amount of necessary expenditure, the church revenues began, at the same time, to show a marked falling off.

But these things did not greatly disturb the rector. He knew that his first duty was to obey the mandates of the religion in which he believed, and to continue his efforts to reclaim and regenerate the hundreds of hitherto churchless and unwelcome poor who were now turning tired feet toward the portals of Christ Church. Matters of finance must and would adjust themselves to any situation which might result from his efforts in this behalf.

And he had defenders, plenty of them. He had helpers by the score, and companions by the hundred. At least two members of his vestry, Emberly and Hazzard, were outspoken and enthusiastic adherents to his cause. All of his humbler parishioners, new and old, save those few who chanced to be under the domination of men and families of wealth, were with him heartily in his crusade. Class was arrayed against class. To the observant and disinterested onlooker the struggle formed a most illuminating chapter in the record of modern sociological activity.

Among his few supporters in what was considered to be the exclusive social set, Ruth Tracy was by far the most ardent and uncompromising. Here, there, everywhere, she proclaimed the righteousness and justice of the rector’s cause. Her faith in him was unbounded, and her faith was fully evidenced by her works. Her mother was scandalized, her father was indifferent, her lover was in despair. To seek to restrain from unwise and unseemly activity a woman who is actuated by religious motives is a delicate and dangerous task, and Westgate was not equal to it. He was ready to cross swords with any legal opponent, to face any legal proposition that might come to his office, to persuade or oppose, to construct or crush, as occasion might demand, but he had no skill or persuasion or power to turn this girl whom he loved aside from the hard path she had deliberately chosen. He had exhausted logic and entreaty, without avail. There was left to him but one recourse, and that he was not yet ready to adopt.

One afternoon, in the heart of the city, a half dozen of the vestrymen of Christ Church met, informally, to discuss the situation which, in their judgment, had become acute. All but one of them were in favor of drastic action, let the action take what form it would. That one was Westgate. Again he appeared as a conservative. The others demanded that immediate steps be taken to oust the offending clergyman from his pulpit. Westgate pleaded for delay. He asked for a length of time within which he might, as a friend, approach the rector and urge upon him the advisability, if not the necessity, of a quiet, dignified, unsensational resignation, and relinquishment of his office. Since the night of the Tracy dinner he had abandoned any idea that he might have had that the clergyman would listen to reason or to good advice. His only hope now was that a vacancy in the pulpit might be brought about without a bitter and unseemly conflict. His fellow-vestrymen did not agree with him in his view of the case. They maintained that the Reverend Mr. Farrar was not entitled to so much consideration as Westgate proposed to show him. But they finally yielded, with the explicit understanding that this was to be the last proposal for peace. If it should not be accepted they would at once resort to hostile measures.

Westgate was to see Mr. Farrar at the earliest opportunity, and report the result of his visit. But it was not until two days later that he was able to go forth on his unhappy mission. He found the minister at home. On his face, as he welcomed his visitor, there was no look of apprehension or surprise. He was calm, self-assured, quietly expectant. He appeared to know, by intuition, the purport of the call. Westgate indulged in no prologue, nor did he make any excuses or apologies. In courteous phrases, with the deep concern of a friend, he went at once to the heart of his errand.