But even the younger, and middle-aged members of the parish are cautious about condoning too much church involvement with outside activities.

"It's probably better not to discuss the issues of peace around here," Green said. "That's a sore subject. We think maybe that the rector overdoes it a little. If he feels like wearing a peace symbol, that's okay. People should get involved, but it shouldn't be overdone in church."

"I've lost very few members because of my attitude on Vietnam," Thompson said. "My people will disagree vehemently with what I have to say, but they are fond of their rector."

He said that he even won a few "converts" to his way of thinking. "In the early days of the war, some Vietnam veterans in the parish were really down on me for my way of preaching. Now they say I'm not strong enough in my stand."

The older members seem to be happy with the church as it is today. Many of them have been in the church for 40 years or more. May Folger said that the only change in the church that really affected her was the change in the liturgy of the services. During the service that Sunday the congregation had all filled out questionnaires concerning the new trial rites being instituted in the Episcopal services. She said that she thought the changes in liturgy were important changes. She also said that St. Peter's was "the only church to go to." "I'd die if I ever had to leave St. Peter's," she said. She remembered, a little sadly, however, a time when the congregation was bigger and there were "over 500" children in the Sunday School.

Some of the problems the church has to face today may not seem nearly as forboding as problems it has faced in the past. For all practical purposes, these problems are solved now, apparently to the satisfaction of all concerned. In the early part of the century, Thompson said, there was an influx of blacks into the church, which caused some strife among the conservative middle class members of the parish. "Around the turn of the century, the bishop agreed to establish a mission for the blacks," he said. "But the mission grew--like Topsy." That mission that grew out of St. Peter's church has itself become a church.

ST. BARTHOLOMEW'S church stands at the intersection of Harvard and Essex Streets, barely two blocks from St. Peter's. Today it has about 645 members, almost all of them black. Somewhere in the past, there was a degree of animosity between the two churches, because of the nature of the split. But here too, it seems, only the mythical "older members of the parish" remember that time. "When I first came here," Thompson said, "there were a few blacks who refused to leave. I was asked when I was going to make them leave. I used every theological argument in the book to convince my parishioners that they were wrong. Finally I told them to pay back all the money that the blacks had given to the church since I had been there, and I would ask them to leave. Then they shut up." In some ways, Thompson said smiling, "The church is just a large business institution on a national level."

Rev. Alvin Robinson, the rector of St. Bartholomew's, said that some members had once been reluctant to get together with St. Peter's for services. "There was a kind of feeling that 'they didn't want us 30 years ago--why should we go back now?'" He said he felt that that time was over and that among the younger members, there were many who did not even remember the origins of the church. "We are having a joint confirmation with other churches, including St. Peter's. The young kids don't care where they go -- they just want to be confirmed," he said.

Robinson said that his church was not facing the problems of membership in the same way that St. Peter's is. "On any given Sunday we have about 250 people. There's no problem here whether or not the church will survive."

Some of the younger members of St. Bartholomew's, however, echoed Thompson's attitudes of the "moderns." Larry Brewster '76, who was a leader of the youth group at St. Bartholomew's last year, said he felt that young people went to church for "10 per cent religious reasons and 90 per cent social reasons. A lot of us just come because our parents make us."

"I think if I had my way, I might have the whole thing razed so we could start over," Thompson said. "I feel the organized church is on its last legs."

With his own parishioners, however, Thompson says he feels more hopeful. The organized church and the people of whom it is made up are two different things to him. "When I give a service, there is a blessing at the end. I can always give my people a blessing -- and mean it."