Some of you know that one of my greatest heroes in ministry is my predecessor here, ten times removed, the fourth rector of Saint Mark’s, who served here from 1868 to 1878, Eugene Augustus Hoffman. He left here to go to New York to become the dean of the General Theological Seminary, where I studied, as he had, too.
Hoffman’s obituary in the New York Times, published on June 18, 1902, the day after he died, mentions early on that Dr. Hoffman “was often referred to as ‘the richest clergyman in America.’”# I have been known to bemoan the fact that he did not see to it that all his successors on Locust Street could be referred to in the same way. At the General Seminary, to this day Hoffman is referred to as “our most munificent benefactor.” The Times points out that Hoffman “inherited not only wealth but a distinguished name.” He maintained business interests in real estate in New York while he was dean of the seminary, as he had here in Philadelphia when he was Rector of Saint Mark’s.
The Times obituary takes a little dig at Saint Mark’s in recounting Hoffman’s career. The obituary tells us that “from Brooklyn he went to Philadelphia to become the pastor at St. Mark’s which was then considered to be one of the most fashionable congregations in that city.” Well… I mean! The use of the past tense there is a bit much! Back “then,” in the 1870s, we were a fashionable congregation?!?! In 1902 the Lady Chapel was only three years old, and Rodman Wanamaker had barely begun to shower us with gifts. I don’t think our fashionable days were quite over yet! But I digress.
What I seldom have wondered about (until now) was how Eugene Augustus Hoffman reacted (or how he preached) when he opened up the Bible to the Epistle of St. James, and read the words we heard today: “Is it not the rich who oppress you?” Admittedly, Hoffman would have read the King James Version, but that translation is also indicting. It asks, “Do not rich men oppress you?”
Let’s put that line in its slightly larger context, back in the newer translation:
Has not God chosen the poor in the world to be rich in faith and to be heirs of the kingdom that he has promised to those who love him? But you have dishonored the poor. Is it not the rich who oppress you? Is it not they who drag you into court? Is it not they who blaspheme the excellent name that was invoked over you?
Is it not the rich who oppress you?
What did Hoffman think when he read these words? What did the people of Saint Mark’s think when they heard them? What do we think about them now?
Surprisingly, part of an answer to the first question - what did Hoffman think - can be found in the Times obituary, which goes on to describe in detail a very particular aspect of Hoffman’s ministry here at Saint Mark’s, having previously noted that he was also often known as an “apostle of work.” The Times explains that when Hoffman got to Saint Mark’s, “the new rector soon realized that the workingmen in his parish were not seen at the services, and he set about to find some means of reaching them. The result was the founding of the St. Mark’s Workingmen’s Club, the first club designed for the benefit of workingmen to be launched in America.”
The club provided “various means of comfort and amusement” which included billiards, backgammon, and checkers, but no cards (since, you know, cards lead to trouble); as well as tea and coffee with light luncheons, but no beer (“In my judgment, beer would have ruined everything,” Hoffman said). And there were lectures and concerts, but “we didn’t talk too much religion,” he said. (Maybe that would have ruined everything too?) More progressively, the club’s features also “included insurance and sick benefits.” In the 1870s these were notable social benefits that were not widely available to the working classes, no wonder the New York Times took note. So, who knows, maybe it was Hoffman’s own effort and initiative that saw this parish downgraded by the Times from its ranking as one of the most fashionable congregations in this city, since so much of his time and energy was diverted from the well-heeled to those who were likely to be down-at-heel.
Something tells me that Eugene Augustus Hoffman was well familiar with the Epistle of St. James, and perhaps motivated by its presentation of the Gospel. “Do you with your acts of favoritism really believe in our glorious Lord Jesus Christ?” Well, Hoffman seems to have taken James to heart, and maybe to have been a little chastened by those words. He certainly seems to have tried to take notice of the working poor in the midst of this parish, and to have worked hard not to dishonor the poor.
Of course, it’s easier to muse about the days of yesteryear than it is to grapple with the here and now. Today, something more than 24% of the population of Philadelphia lives in poverty. This figure always astonishes me. You can find data that will tell you that poverty is on the decline in our city over the past couple of years. But the poverty rate has hovered near 25% for at least the last fifteen years. Looking further back, in 1970 the poverty rate here was only about 15%.* How’s that for progress?
As I look out at you now, I hate to break it to you, but I have to admit that I am forced to agree with the assessment of the NY Times 119 years ago: the days that Saint Mark’s could be called one of the most fashionable congregations in the city are behind us. In the past twenty years that I have known this parish, we have tried to align ourselves with the poor. It was eighteen years ago that we started the Saturday Soup Bowl. The Food Cupboard has been going for nearly forty years. It was thirteen years ago that we adopted St. James the Less as a mission of this parish, now an independent school for kids in an under-served community. And over the last eighteen months of pandemic we have forged partnerships with two parishes in South Philadelphia where every week members of Saint Mark’s are engaged in helping to feed the hungry and the poor, just as we are at least five days out of every seven here on Locust Street. I don’t tell you these things by way of patting ourselves on the back. I am reminding you that ministry to and with the poor is absolutely, integrally fundamental to who we are.
And it’s not because we are Saint Mark’s, Locust Street that we claim this ministry is indispensable. No, it’s because we are the church of Jesus Christ, shaped and called by that excellent name that is invoked over us every single day. In the words of an English bishop, who is also a friend of this parish, “If we abandon the poor, we abandon God. If we fail to proclaim the good news to the poor, we lose the right and the authority to proclaim the good news to anyone, anywhere.”**
Going back to the great Dr. Hoffman, the Times obituary provides us with this scant narrative of his developing vocation: “In 1848, after his graduation from Harvard, he joined the exploring party… which made a circuit of Lake Superior in birch bark canoes, [and] he decided to become a clergyman.” How very much is left unsaid in this account!
His published biography reports that he had set his mind on God at an early age. After graduating from the General Seminary. Hoffman went on to serve parishes in New Jersey and New York, before arriving here on Locust Street. But it was here at Saint Mark’s that his ministry became aligned with the poor. Here’s a passage from his biography:
The earnest Churchmen of Philadelphia had in their turn and time come to realize that a Church of a mere class cannot be the Church of Jesus Christ; that a congregation or parish of merely rich and well-to-do people is a scandal; and that the note of universality must belong to any flock of Christ, great or small, doing the real work of His Church in the world. Therefore interest in the poor became inevitable, and interest in the workingman particularly imperative.+
Ten years later, in his farewell sermon to the parish, Hoffman said this:
St. Mark’s Church has a name and an influence among the churches far beyond its parochial position. Its beautiful edifice, standing in the midst if this great city, its impressive choral worship, its frequent celebrations of the Holy Eucharist, its continuous daily services, uninterrupted since the day the church was opened for worship, and, above all, its numerous and efficient charity organizations, give it a position almost without peer as a parish church in its possibilities for good….++
As I think about the tremendous and widening gap between rich and poor in this country, which strikes me as not only un-Christian, but also as a very dire indicator of our national health, it is tempting for me to deliver an editorial on the implications of this circumstance, under the title, “Is It Not the Rich Who Oppress You?” Such and editorial would be, frankly, both easy to write and true. But the Epistle of St. James was written not as an editorial, but as an expression of the Good News of Jesus Christ.
In my imagination, I picture a young Eugene Augustus Hoffman - rich, handsome, privileged, and at least a little bit pious - paddling his birch bark canoe around the circuit of Lake Superior. I expect he was often pleased with himself and his adventures. I imagine from time to time he enjoyed a cold beer! And I imagine, that under his seat in the canoe, wrapped in waxed cotton to keep it dry, and tied securely with a bit of twine, Hoffman had with him a copy of the Bible, in which, from time to time he must have turned to the pages of the Epistle of St. James, where he read these words:
Has not God chosen the poor in the world to be rich in faith and to be heirs of the kingdom that he has promised to those who love him? But you have dishonored the poor. Is it not the rich who oppress you? Is it not they who drag you into court? Is it not they who blaspheme the excellent name that was invoked over you?
I am guessing that Hoffman knew who he was; that he knew who he might become; that he knew who it was that might be dishonored by his life, his work, his legacy. And I imagine that under the stars on the shores of Lake Superior, as he said his prayers at night, he asked Jesus to open up to him “possibilities for good.” Because he knew that it is the rich who oppress the poor, and that Jesus demands that something should be done about it.
I thank God for the legacy of Eugene Augustus Hoffman in this place. I am still a little peeved that he did not leave a pile of money here to look after his successor rectors. But I guess I need to get over that.
And when I think of this beautiful edifice, standing in the midst if this great city, our impressive choral worship, our frequent celebrations of the Holy Eucharist, our continuous daily services, uninterrupted since the day the church was opened for worship; I think above all, of our numerous and somewhat efficient ministries to those in need - the the hungry, the homeless, the poor. And I pray that God will continue to help us never to dishonor the poor, but to care for those in need as if they were our brothers and sisters… because they are. And to remind us always of our privileged position as a parish church with so many possibilities for good!
Preached by Fr. Sean Mullen
4 September 2021
Saint Mark’s, Locust Street, Philadelphia
# The New York Times, 18 June, 1902
* statistics from “Philadelphia’s Poor” a report from the Pew Charitable Trusts, Nov, 2017. https://www.pewtrusts.org/-/media/assets/2017/11/pri_philadelphias_poor.pdf
** Philip North, “Hope for the Poor,” https://www.blackburn.anglican.org/storage/general-files/shares/Resources/Talks%20articles%20and%20sermons/Hope_for_the_Poor_-__P_article__Word_document_.pdf
+ A Memorial Biography of the Very Reverend Eugene Augustus Hoffman, by Theo Myers Riley, Jamaica, NY, The Marion Press, privately printed, 1904, p. 488
++ Ibid. p. 539