Calling on a greater power

by Lisa Watts

Rev. Henry Hopper ’58

He describes his ministry as “out on the fringes,” but Henry Hopper ’58 has always worked in the thick of things, never shying from change or controversy. After leading urban and suburban Presbyterian churches in South Philadelphia and California early in his career, Hopper settled in Pennsylvania to raise his family. And while he enjoys preaching, he soon decided that the administrative work of running a church was “not my bag.”

Along came Operation Native Son, in which the city of Philadelphia tried to encourage young people to return to the city by showcasing job opportunities. “I put on a tie and tried my best, at thirty-five, to look young, and went downtown to see what I could find,” Hopper says. “They were looking for parole officers, so I thought I’d try that.”

He stayed in the parole field for twenty-seven years, refusing promotions that would take him away from the frontlines of working with parolees. Supportive of gun control, he was one of the few parole officers who refused to carry a weapon. The work was gratifying when his parolees did well after prison, frustrating when state laws conspired to return them to prison over petty violations.

For the last seven years, Hopper has fused his life’s vocations by volunteering two mornings a week at a prison near his home in Williamsport, Pennsylvania. He leads a Zen meditation session for inmates one morning and a spiritual discussion group another.

Hopper discovered the power of meditation a decade or so ago after undergoing prostate surgery. He met an ordained Buddhist priest, a woman who had studied in Japan, who taught him about sitting meditation three mornings a week.

“It’s not a tradition that Christianity has ever pushed,” he says of sitting in quiet contemplation. “I think I could be a Buddhist very easily.”

He also admits to having more than the usual energy and intensity and a penchant for social service. For years he has worked pulpit supply jobs, filling in when congregations need a substitute preacher. He has never been afraid to speak out on such things as the role of women and homosexuals within the church (he supports them) and going to war (he opposes it).

“I have a deep appreciation for my religious past,” Hopper says. “I felt nurtured by the church I grew up in (in Yeadon, Pennsylvania), especially by my pastor, Robert Tignor (’27). He was brilliant, passionate about his work, and still one of the best preachers I’ve ever heard.”

“My emphasis is not on what traditional Christians seem to emphasize, the whole cosmic redemption thing,” Hopper says. “My emphasis is on the genius of Jesus. The guy was a social critic, because the church was in bed with the government in his time. He was prophetic about things, and he was willing to break some religious laws to bring about change.”

“My faith is more in the power of God, in the energy of the universe,” Hopper says.

He describes a nightly ritual that he shares with his wife, Alison Swager Hopper ’58, before dinner. They pause for “a significant silent minute or two” and send their thoughts and prayers out to people who they think need their help.

“I don’t even understand it, really,” he says, “but I know that as human beings, we can affect each other.”