The unhallowed harvest

by Homer Greene

He could not quite assent to the doctrine that confiscation of private property by the state, beyond the customary exercise of the right of eminent domain, in order that it might be administered for the economic betterment of all, was either politically wise or ethically correct.

Certainly he was not ready to participate in a sudden and violent overturning of the existing social order for the purpose of hastening the coming of the social commonwealth.

But he was absorbed in the idea of, and immersed in the plans for alleviating the hardships of the poor. He looked to and labored for such a rearrangement of the social order, that all men who toiled, either with hand or brain, should share alike in the largess of the fruitful earth, and in the material bounty of God.

It was his aim so to instil the religion of Christ into the hearts of the classes that ultimately there would be no classes, no swollen fortunes, no dire poverty, no social distinctions, but that all men would dwell together in Christian fellowship as did the brethren of the early Church.

And it was his desire and ambition that this plan of Christian living should have its foremost modern exemplification in the parish of Christ Church.

In his night interview with the bishop he had stated his position with such cogent reasoning, with such eloquent appeal, that that dignitary of the Church was not prepared to confound his argument or to suppress his enthusiasm either by episcopal wisdom or by fatherly remonstrance. Moreover he taught nothing in contravention of the doctrines of the Church. He preached no gospel that had not been preached by the Carpenter of Nazareth among the hills of Galilee, on the shores of Gennesareth, or in the shadow of the temple at Jerusalem. No wonder the bishop could not decide which horn of the dilemma to take concerning the matter in controversy. No wonder the protesting parishioners became impatient at his delay. Many of them, indeed, grew discouraged and then indifferent. Some of them severed their connection with the parish absolutely and attached themselves to St. Timothy’s up-town. Others absented themselves entirely from divine service, or became occasional attendants at other Protestant churches in the city. The prominent and pompous woman who had threatened to go over to the Church of Rome carried out her threat. She felt that now she ran no farther risk of contamination, that she was where socialism is practically, if not officially, anathema.

But there was no diminution in the attendance at the services of Christ Church. As familiar faces disappeared from the pews new ones, stamped with the insignia of toil, took their places. No magnet ever drew to itself the filings of steel with surer power than this magnetic preacher drew to himself the human filings from the social mass.

But the institutional life of the church suffered. As the old workers, displeased or disheartened, or unduly influenced, forsook their tasks, it was with extreme difficulty that others were found with sufficient zeal and adaptability and religious culture to fill their places. Indeed, many places remained wholly unfilled, and the rector and his curate were obliged to do double duty by taking up the neglected work and doing it as best they could. Funds for these church activities were also lacking. Many of the rich and the well-to-do who had contributed liberally in the past were now giving niggardly sums, or were withholding their contributions altogether. And in the absence of both workers and money it was not strange that the work itself should languish.

But the rector was not discouraged. He felt that the tide would eventually turn; that God would not permit the institutions of His Church permanently to suffer, nor His poor always to go uncared for. And who could say that it was not His plan to bring “trouble and distress” upon His people in order to make more emphatic the ushering in of that new social régime in which poverty and trouble and distress could never gain a foothold.

It was not only the guilds of the church that suffered for lack of money; the church itself was deplorably short of funds. Receipts from pew rents had fallen off sadly. Pewholders, reminded of their obligations, replied that those obligations were conditioned on the preaching of the gospel of Jesus Christ, and not the gospel of Karl Marx, from the pulpit of Christ Church. The alms-basins which in the old days had been presented at the altar heaped with the bank bills placed thereon by the wealthy and the well-to-do, came now, sparsely lined instead, with the nickels and the pennies of the poor. And while widows’ mites might be gloriously acceptable in the eyes of God, it needed vastly more of them than were received to carry on successfully the activities of Christ Church. The Episcopal and Convention Fund assessment was hopelessly in arrears; so was the missionary allotment; even the rector’s salary was in jeopardy by reason of the lack of funds. When that salary was paid to him he found it necessary to use a good part of it to relieve cases of destitution, and to meet other emergencies which could not, in these days, otherwise be met. But he did not complain. He simply set about to see what he could personally do without, and he admonished his wife that the cost of living at the rectory would need to be reduced. On the following Sunday, after reading the announcements, he called the attention of the congregation to the fact that, owing to the withdrawal of financial support by many members of the parish, the funds of the church, available for carrying on its work, had been exhausted, and the treasury was facing a serious deficit. He therefore appealed to all attendants on the services, and to all those interested in supporting the activities and maintaining the dignity of Christ Church, to be liberal in their contributions, that the Lord’s work might be unhampered and undiminished. From a few there came an immediate response to his appeal. But many heard it with indifference, or else doled out grudgingly a few more pennies. One hard-handed toiler, as he shuffled down the aisle at the close of the service, was heard to say: