Catholic Clergy and Religious Sisters in the Civil Rights Movement

In Communion with our Brothers: Catholic Clergy and Religious Sisters in the Civil Rights Movement by Shannon Meredith Lampton A THESIS Submitted in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of Master Arts in History to The School of Graduate Studies of The University of Alabama in Huntsville HUNTSVILLE, ALABAMA 2018 ABSTRACT School of Graduate Studies The University of Alabama in Huntsville Degree Master of Arts College/Dept. History Name of Candidate Shannon Meredith Lampton Title In Communion with our Brothers: Catholic Clergy and Religious Sisters in the Civil Rights Movement In the history of the civil rights movement there is a great deal of research, narrative, and historiography devoted to African American men and women’s participation, and of the ways African American churches worked in the movement. I researched to find out how the Catholic Church and her people participated in the civil rights movement. My main points of focus were how these men of privilege and women got involved; how the changes in the Catholic Church encouraged or hindered its members’ civil rights’ work; and how historian perceived that work. I learned that the Catholic Church did not change its teachings, but some people were confused and upset by the changes it did make and it kept them from getting involved. I also learned that there is a narrow understanding of what constitutes civil rights and that and marching is not the only way to create change. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS There are so many who helped and encouraged me in this process. ▪ Dr. Stephen Waring, for patience, long, wandering and often hilarious discussions, the joy of doing a thing well, and the sure understanding of when to put heel to leather and move things along ▪ Dr. Andrew Dunar, for putting me on this path and sharing ideas, resources, and expert knowledge ▪ Dr. Thomas Reidy, for good suggestions, great humor, and the willingness to jump aboard a sometimes-leaky ship ▪ Father Ted Hesburgh, Margaret Rogza, Prentice McKinney, Vel Phillips, Paul Murray, and Sonnie Hereford for sharing their stories and their time and who led me one to another and helped make my story richer ▪ Kathy Urbanic, archivist for the Sisters of St. Joseph of Rochester, who was my angel and never seemed to grow weary of pulling my feet from the fire ▪ Allen Fisher, at the Lyndon Baines Johnson Library for his unfailing kindness and humor ▪ The kind, helpful people at the Hesburgh Library, the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee Library, and the Edmundite Missions in Selma who gave me opportunity and space to learn And mostly, to my family-my Patricks, Mickey, Jack and Anna- who provided chocolate and caramel and diet Pepsi to combat late nights, set me free for long periods of research and travel time, tolerated time spent with a computer and magnificent stacks of paper instead of them, and endlessly listened to the stories of people that sometimes must have crowded out all the other things I should have been dealing with. Love and Love. TABLE OF CONTENTS Chapter Page 1 Introduction: Whatsoever you Do 1 2 White Sisters in the Black Belt: The Sisters of Saint Joseph 22 3 Activist Priest: Father James Groppi 53 4 Conclusion: Living in Communion with our Brothers 96 REFERENCES For all who become God’s hands on earth and work to make the world a safer, kinder, and more equitable place, and who remember that we all have a spark of the divine Chapter I Introduction For I was hungry, and you gave me food, I was thirsty, and you gave me drink, a stranger and you welcomed me, naked and you clothed me, ill and you cared for me, in prison and you visited me.’ Then the righteous* will answer him and say, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you drink? When did we see you a stranger and welcome you, or naked and clothe you? When did we see you ill or in prison, and visit you?’ And the king will say to them in reply, ‘Amen, I say to you, whatever you did for one of these least brothers of mine, you did for me.’ Matthew 25:35-40 (NAB) “The poor you will always have with you,” Jesus chided His apostles, and they misunderstood. He didn’t mean this as a prediction, but as a necessity for action now. Jesus wanted his followers to see marginalized people and respond to them now. To see them, and hear them, and help them now. He wanted them to think about how they treat people who look different, talk differently, worship differently and come from a different cultural background; to question how and when to stand up and proclaim and defend our intrinsic brotherhood. And to calculate the cost they would pay and what amount of suffering they would endure to make a more just world. Religious people who create change for good in the world must choose between the ways of the world and their faith. And sometimes they must choose between the teachings of their religion and its long-celebrated traditions. Studying the civil rights movement uncovers stories of great heroism by African American churches and their congregants but left me wondering where the predominantly white churches stood. Specifically, how did the Catholic Church, her clergy and religious men and women, try to bring about change? Where were the 6 Church teachings that would save the world from the darkness? The answer: It stood where it had for a thousand years: sometimes corrupt, sometimes morally ambivalent, and sometimes gloriously landing on the side of good, and using the light from many banks of candles to shine the way out of darkness. The post Second Vatican Council Church kept its doctrinal teachings and kept the dogma, but reexamined tradition and presentation. And, with the understanding the Church was its people, not its buildings, the Church proved to be as good as her good believers and as bad as those who led it toward the darkness In the long history of the Catholic Church many priests, and religious brothers and sisters chose to help, and their work did unqualified good for our society. Some Catholics impeded civil rights through neglect, indifference or selfishness, and some had mixed records. In Alabama, a state not known for acts of actual civil rights, members of my Church had been among the helpers. I learned about Father Albert Foley who integrated Spring Hill college and the Sisters of Saint Joseph who worked in Selma. I looked farther and found many others who participated in the civil rights movement. My research focused on religious men and women most active at the height of the movement for African American civil rights, although the Church has long supported missionary orders to convert and the masses and to help those who in need. Founders of some religious orders (all-white or all-black, but never mixed) chose to work entirely within marginalized communities, founding missions that ministered to the spiritual, social and educational and economic needs of the communities. I read widely and sorted those about whom I read into groups: protesters, educators, healers, missionaries, and Church leaders. In addition to the Sisters of Saint 7 Joseph (educators and healers) and Father Foley (educator, protester), I read about the Josephites and Edmundite Brothers (missionaries), and the Society of Saint Joseph (missionaries, educators), and Father James Groppi (protester) an activist priest in Milwaukee. I read about men who were leaders in the Church and in education: Father Joseph Durick,(Church leader) who spoke out against the legal inequality of African Americans, participated in the Memphis Sanitation Workers’ Strike, and worked for prison reform; Archbishop Joseph Rummel, who attempted to integrate the New Orleans’ Catholic Schools, feared schism, slid into gradualism, and died before he could implement integration; and Father Theodore Hesburgh, who served on, and later led, the United States Commission on Civil Rights which pressed for changes to laws that isolated African Americans from the prosperity most white Americans enjoyed. He helped change racist laws, but racist attitudes, even among those who shared his religion and alma mater, proved more ingrained and difficult to eradicate. He became president of the University of Notre Dame, (already integrated, but barely) and in his tenure slowly raised the percentage of minority representation in the student body and on the staff. I decided finally to research and write most extensively on Father James Groppi and the Sisters of Saint Joseph. I chose them because they worked at street level with the people most affected by Jim Crow and they sought to alleviate the resulting poverty, unemployment, inadequate health, care and sense of hopelessness. Father James Groppi worked to pass a fair-housing law in Milwaukee and served African American residents of that city’s inner core. The Sisters of Saint Joseph, a group of Rochester, 8 New York based nuns, for many years kept a mission church to the African American community of Selma, Alabama. The sisters educated the young men and women of that community and nursed the beaten and bloody marchers turned back from the Edmund Pettus Bridge in the aborted March to Montgomery on March 7, 1965. I located invaluable primary sources for both Father Groppi and the Sisters of Saint Joseph. I visited the sisters at their motherhouse in Rochester and interviewed those whom had been in Selma. The archives there hold written and spoken oral histories, letters, and journals, and the Sisters’ organizational records. Newspapers contain accounts of the sisters’ activities and sketch a picture of the scope of the civil rights activities in the South.

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