Parish History
Reflections on the Community of John XXIII
1968-2003
John W. Prados
I greatly appreciate Fr. Eric’s giving me the opportunity to offer some reflections on what the Community of John XXIII has meant to me over the past 35 years. I have written these comments out, because people my age tend to ramble, especially when they have spent much of their professional lives talking in 50-minute increments!
Where do I begin? Our community came into existence at a time which some Catholics found threatening, but which I and, I think most of us who helped form this community, found exhilarating. I had grown up in the pre-Vatican II Catholic Church, which I dearly loved, but found in many ways uncomfortable. The Baltimore Catechism taught that if you were not a Catholic, you were either a Heretic or an Infidel and that it was very difficult for either to get to Heaven (somehow they overlooked the Orthodox). I had a counter example in my own home – my Presbyterian mother, who was an extremely loving, generous individual with a strong religious faith of her own (and, I am sure, spent little time if any in Purgatory!) I would have been even more uncomfortable had I known at the time that those like the Jesuit theologian, John Courtney Murray, were being forbidden to write and teach that American ideals like religious freedom and separation of church and state might be compatible with Catholic values.
Pope John XXIII changed all that when he convened the Second Vatican Council, “opening the windows of the Church,” in his words, to let in fresh air and fresh ideas. And the gifted visionary who opened our eyes to the significance of this new openness in the Church was Fr. Sterling McGuire, the assistant pastor at Immaculate Conception Church, who had, in addition to his parish duties, the job of Newman Club Chaplain at The Uni-versity of Tennessee. Fr. McGuire convinced a number of us that the spiritual needs of Catholic students, faculty, and staff could best be met through a non-geographical University parish with a physical presence on or immediately adjacent to the campus. He obtained a copy of the canonical decree establishing a similar non-geographical parish in Pittsburgh, serving students at several universities in that city, which formed the model for our own John XXIII Parish.
Many of us involved in the parish formation had been active in the University of Tennessee Newman Foundation, a group of local Catholics who raised funds to support Newman Club activities at the University. Following extensive discussions among Foundation members and others, Albert Paulus, Harry Jacobson, Fr. McGuire, and I formed a sub-committee to draft a proposal to the Diocese of Nashville to establish a University parish and to provide funds for construction of a Catholic Center at UT. We drove to Nashville and presented the proposal to Bishop Joseph Durick, who after consultation with his own advisors, granted permission to establish the parish, appointed Fr. McGuire as its first pastor, and provided $300,000 for construction of the Center, along with a commitment for additional annual support. As many of you know, our first home was the vacant Fort Sanders Presbyterian Church on Laurel Avenue (now the Laurel Theater), which we rented from the Presbytery of East Tennessee while the present John XXIII building was under construction.
From the beginning, John XXIII was very different from traditional parishes. We had a constitution and a functioning parish council, with Harry Jacobson as its first president, well before parish councils were approved as a general rule. Bishop Durick had granted us the right for liturgical experimentation, and so we had women lectors and girls as alter servers long before they were allowed in other parishes. Folk music at Sunday liturgies goes back to our beginnings on Laurel Avenue, and although some of the early folk hymns were not such great music, they helped foster singing and a spirit of community worship that were largely absent from the pre-Vatican II Church. One custom that I wish we still had was for those present at daily Mass (when the crowd was small enough) to gather around the alter in a circle during the Eucharistic Prayer – another powerful way of strengthening our experience of common worship as the Body of Christ.
For 35 years, John XXIII has been a spiritual home for my family and me. Our youngest daughter, Anne, received her First Communion here at a Christmas Vigil Mass where Fr. McGuire let her carry in the statue of Baby Jesus to place in the crib. Later, she was married in the chapel. My wife, Lynn, was accepted into the Catholic Church here last Easter, after putting up with a Catholic husband for 51 years. Our granddaughter, Mary Beth, was baptized and confirmed in this parish. My religious education has continued far be-yond the Baltimore Catechism with ecumenical Sunday morning discussions organized by our own Fr. Mike Kallock and Fr. Al Minor of the Tyson Episcopal Center; with bible classes with Ruth Queen Smith and Fr. Bob Stulting from Immaculate Conception Parish; with Fr. Terry’s workshops on contemplative prayer; and many other great learning experiences. We have enjoyed friendship and support from members of this community too numerous to name. We still find the music a most important part of our worship and are thankful we can take part in that ministry. On at least one occasion, my decision not to accept an offer from another university was based, in part, on my unwillingness to leave John XXIII.
From the time of Peter and Paul, the Church has suffered persecutions from
without and disagreements from within. Sometimes when one reads the latest
pronouncements from the men in the Curia, who seem to be more concerned about
specifying who cleans the communion vessels, and perpetuating the fiction
that management never makes mistakes, than about protecting children from
abuse or the real spiritual struggles of ordinary Catholics, it is easy to
become discouraged. But places like John XXIII Parish are living witness that
the Holy Spirit is alive and well within the Christian community just as in
1958 when a short, chubby, 76-year old Italian named Angelo Joseph Roncalli
was elected Pope and most people thought the Church would never change. I
don’t expect to last another 35 years, which would put me well past
the age of 100, but I pray that I will be around long enough to see the spirit
of Blessed John XXIII renewed within our Church and our community that bears
his name continue to flourish!