By Thea Jarvis

Father James P. Lyke, OFM, began his tenure in Memphis, Tennessee just months after the assassination of Martin Luther Kin, Jr. on April 4, 1968.

While teaching religion at Padua Franciscan High School in Parma, Ohio, the young priest had been active in Cleveland’s Operation Breadbasket and the city’s NAACP voter registration campaign. He had met and collaborated with Dr. King during the civil rights leader’s visits to Cleveland and after King’s death, Father Lyke requested and received permission from his Franciscan superior to go to Memphis.

He was assigned to St. Thomas, a predominantly black church on the south side of town, less than two miles from the Lorraine Motel, the site of Dr. King’s murder.

Father Lyke, at 29, became assistant pastor of the Trigg Avenue church, which had a membership of some 900 family units. He was appointed pastor two years later.

The history of St. Thomas in part reflects the racial history of the city of Memphis. The church dates to 1937, when it was founded by Father Bertrand Koch, OFM, as the parish of St. Augustine. It was the second parish for blacks in Memphis.

In 1957, Father Bertrand High School was built as the first part of a large complex that would ultimately replace the old St. Augustine Church. But by the early sixties, long-range plans for St. Augustine were canceled as racial tensions surfaced. In 1965, St. Augustine closed and the congregation went to St. Thomas Church, which was then turned over to the Franciscans. This experiment in racial unity fizzled when most white parishioners left. A predominantly black identity emerged for St. Thomas and was intact when Father Lyke arrived in 1968.

For many in the city of Memphis, black or white, Catholic or non-Catholic, Father James P. Lyke was a first.

“I was so proud to have a black priest,” said Erma Lee Laws, then a parishioner of St. Thomas and one to whom “Bishop Jim” has become “like a little brother.”

In Memphis, Ms. Laws said, Father Lyke “immediately became involved in the civil rights struggle” and undertook a consciousness raising effort in the parish that included the addition of black American spirituals at Mass and murals of Saints Martin de Porres and Benedict the Black on church walls.

“He painted the church African-American liberation colors” of red, green and black, she continued. “There were some blacks who thought he was too black.”

Allegra Turner, a longtime parishioner who has maintained an active presence in the civil rights movement, remembered protesting when Father Lyke began “clapping” during a Sunday liturgy.

“I walked out,” she said.

The priest later approached her with a diplomatic reminder that “the Bible says we should make a joyful noise unto the Lord.”

Mrs. Turner, a sixth-generation Catholic from Louisiana, replied that she wasn’t used to such demonstrations during Mass. She received a patient explanation from Father Lyke.

“I wasn’t born a Catholic like you,” he told her, mentioning the rich tradition of gospel music his family enjoyed and he felt comfortable incorporating into workshop services. “I became a Catholic.”

Such dialogue made friends for the young pastor at a time when he was trying earnestly to instill a sense of pride and self-respect in the black Catholic community.

Father Joseph Davis, SM, who with Father Lyke was active in the National Black Catholic Clergy Caucus during the sixties, worked with him on pastoral ministry projects designed to meet the needs of black Catholics.

“Our particular concern was how to bring together African-American culture and the Catholic Church” in ways that would be faithful to both traditions, he said. “There was not much in the way of established resources on which to draw.”

Father Lyke brought “a very rich background” to the budding black Catholic movement, said Father Davis, combining his Franciscan spirituality, his theology and his acquaintance with Dr. King.

“It took his leadership” to bring African-American traditions to St. Thomas, said Robert Holton, former editor of Common Sense, the diocesan newspaper of Memphis, who sometimes attended Mass at the parish. “He was quite a liturgist. He stimulated that sort of thing.”

Although the Catholic Church at that time did not emphasize or advertise black traditions, “his message was, be proud of it,” Holton said. “He was very much like Martin Luther King, engaged in trying to enlighten blacks about their pride, their heritage.”

St. Thomas was eventually singled out by the National Federation of Priests’ Councils as one of the country’s model parishes, in part because of its success in integrating African-American heritage into the Catholic experience.

Father Lyke attempted to educate and motivate his congregation with speakers whose lives and work radiated gospel values of justice, freedom and pride. Visitors like Sister Thea Bowman, FSPA, the black educator, evangelist and gospel singer who was a close friend of Father Lyke, often came to the parish for workshop or lecture.

Randall Bailey, associate professor of Old Testament theology at the Interdenominational Theological Center in Atlanta, was married at St. Thomas in Memphis, where his wife Jean was a parishioner. He said Father Lyke was “very much interested in building the parish council in a way that empowered the laity.”

The Baileys have continued their relationship with the archbishop beyond the Memphis years and sense a consistency in the attitude and direction of their friend.

“He is serious about lay involvement and the contributions lay people can make to the Church,” Dr. Bailey said. “He is very well grounded in Church doctrine and Church teaching. He is open for dialogue while at the same time he is very clear on what his position is in relation to the Church.”

At St. Thomas, Father Lyke established a chapter of the Knights and Ladies of St. Peter Claver, a black Catholic fraternal organization, and introduced the Diakonia Award, given annually to a black individual who had contributed to the betterment of the city. He also administered Father Bertrand elementary school and began a neighborhood center at St. Thomas that offered recreational and educational outlets to local youth.

In ecumenical settings, Father Lyke “was always there when there was a meeting of importance” that benefited the poor, disadvantaged or underprivileged, Holton recalled.

As a consultant to the Memphis Interfaith Association and member of the Memphis Ministers Association, “He was accepted and respected by other ministers here,” said Mrs. Turner, bringing a spirit of unity and brotherhood from the Catholic perspective.

During much of his time at St. Thomas, Father Lyke’s personal mentor was the founding bishop of the diocese of Memphis, Carroll Dozier, who “steered him to relevant national meetings and gatherings” which were appropriate forums for a civil rights agenda, said Holton.

Father Lyke assisted Bishop Dozier in the composition of his pastoral letters on peace, justice and abortion. In addition, he was involved in the Catholic Human Relations Council, the diocesan committee on peace and justice, the diocesan theological commission and the diocesan board for the permanent diaconate.

Bishop Dozier, a Virginian who was a strong supporter of civil rights, “took (Father Lyke) as a young firebrand kid and turned him into a statesman,” Holton remembered.

His civic interests during the nine years Father Lyke spent in Memphis covered a wide range of organizations and activities, including the Southern Christian Leadership Conference, Health and Welfare Planning Council, Greater Memphis Urban Development Corporation, Afro-American Cultural Society, Tennessee Advisory Committee to the U.S. Commission on Civil Rights, the United Farm Workers grape boycott, Police-Community Negotiating Team, NAACP and the Association for the Study of Afro-American Life and History.

“He got right into everything,” Mrs. Turner said. “He was a very brilliant man who knew what he wanted to say and how he wanted to say it. I saw him as one who could walk with kings and not lose the common touch.”

That was always clear to Ms. Laws, who said she began calling Father Lyke “your excellency” from the time he was in Memphis. She always felt he was unusual, destined to do something special, yet human and endearing at the same time, she said.

She remembered meeting him at the market shortly before Christmas one year. He was shopping for poinsettias to decorate St. Thomas for the holiday, hoping to find things reduced since the feast was drawing near.

“He was very frugal,” said Ms. Laws, waiting until the last minute to get the best buy. “I’m glad he doesn’t have to do those kinds of things now.”