Chapter 6: Spiritual Direction on Vocation and Religious Life

6

Spiritual Direction on Vocation and Religious Life

“And hence it is that those who aim at nothing great, often seem much better, sometimes are better, than those who aim at what is high—they are better, if those who aim at more are bold and fervent without caution—they seem better, because they attempt so much less.”637

The question of Newman’s vocation within the Catholic Church was complex, involving not only his unique position and talents, but also the lives of other converts. His decision to become an Oratorian was not based on an emotional attraction to a congenial patron saint or his institute. Rather, nothing is more marked in the whole process of his vocation than the deliberate and eminently reasonable nature of his choice. In the process of choosing a suitable way of priestly life for himself and his companions, he reasoned very deliberately on the implications and possible consequences of every option.638 Wilfrid Ward, for example, characterized the relevant letters as “almost tiresomely fussy from their realization of objections to any plan and their balancing of alternative considerations.”639 In fact, it took him about a year and a half to decide on the Oratory.640

In his correspondence during the first few years after his entrance into the Roman Catholic Church (1845–47), Newman often spoke as if he were beginning a new life at the end of his days. He first considered joining various religious orders,641 but realized that his previous life was intended to be the means of future usefulness. To J. D. Dalgairns, a future Oratorian, he wrote: “My name and person are known to a very great many people I do not know—so are my books—and I may have begun a work which I am now to finish.”642 As a religious “no one would know that I was speaking my own words: or was a continuation, as it were, of my former self.”643

His choice of vocation was by a process of examination and elimination. He was not choosing for himself alone; in a sense he was thinking of a group vocation, for his companions as well as for himself.644 Even after his definite choice he could still sigh: “How much happier for me to have no liabilities (so to speak) but to be a single unfettered convert.”645

From the beginning, Cardinal Wiseman had favored the Oratory of St. Philip Neri because he believed that in this kind of congregation, Newman could best continue to use his talents.646 St. Philip had founded the Oratorians in the sixteenth century in Rome, not a new order, but as a group of secular priests, who lived together without taking vows, and with “no bond but that of love.”647 Each house of the Oratory, which lived its own separate democratic life, had to be situated with its church in a town. From there its influence was to radiate, by its services and preaching, teaching, study and learned work.

Newman’s attraction to St. Philip Neri seems to have been enhanced by his friendship with Keble; as Newman wrote his sister Jemima in 1847: “This great saint (Philip) reminds me in so many ways of Keble, that I can fancy what Keble would have been, if God’s will had been that he should have been born in another place or age; he was formed in the same type of extreme hatred of humbug, playfulness, nay oddity, tender love for others, and serenity, which are the lineaments of Keble.”648

The Oratorians had few rules and had to learn to live together by means of tact, self-knowledge and the knowledge of others. This had been the pattern for Newman and his companions at Littlemore and Old Oscott (Maryvale). He did not intend to reproduce a slavish model of the Italian Oratory, but to realize St. Philip’s idea in very different circumstances. Eventually, Newman chose the Oratory for himself and his followers because “the tastes of all of us were very different, the Oratory allowed greater scope for them than any other Institution; again it seemed more adapted than any other for Oxford and Cambridge men.”649

Spiritual Direction and Vocation

It would be difficult to exaggerate the importance of the Oratory for Newman. It was his chosen vocation; its establishment in England was the first commission he received from Roman Catholic authorities; it was the framework for the rest of his long life and the source of some of his cruelest trials. It was through the Oratory that his understanding of religious life deepened and provided the groundwork for the direction he was to give to others concerning religious life.

Nature of Oratorian Vocation

The “Santa Croce Papers,” written by Newman in the autumn of 1847 during his novitiate in Rome, constitute a working plan for the Oratory. Based on his close study of authentic Oratorian documents and his observation of the Roman and Neapolitan Oratories at the time, these papers attempted to define the nature of the Oratory of St. Philip Neri.650

Newman, like Philip Neri, emphasized that Oratorians are not a religious body in the canonical sense, but “secular priests” living in community. In his “Santa Croce Papers,” he considered the question of whether the Congregation of the Oratory could be called a religious institute. Although Newman felt that the Oratorians were not “religious per se,” nevertheless as followers of St. Philip, he wanted the Oratorians to “seek to imitate the religious in perfection, though they did not imitate them in taking vows.”651 Newman felt the external differences between the Oratorians and a religious order would show themselves in several ways.

First, there is to be no poverty, and no appearance of it—habeant, possideant, (let them have, let them possess) were St. Philip’s words, when one of his subjects wished to decree poverty.

They are to have their own rooms, and to make themselves comfortable in them. A remarkable stress is laid upon their rooms as their nido, (nest) which would not apply to a monastic house . . .

There were to be no fastings over and above what the Church prescribed, no other austerities (except discipline) . . .

Another external difference between his Congregation and Religious was the absence of the appearance of government. At first, there were no Rules or Constitutions at all.

The Superior was to have no show of power. St. Philip only on one occasion used the words “I command.” He said that the best means of having power was to command seldom.652

Although the Oratory was not a religious institute, but a community of secular priests, nevertheless the obligation to strive for perfection was central to his understanding of the Oratorian vocation. Asking the question, “What is meant by perfection?” he stated in 1856: “To reconcile these opposite statements of the Oratory being a community of secular priests, and a sort of Religion—of its members aiming at perfection, yet not being under vows, we must bear in mind that there are various modes, nay types, or at least species, of perfection, and that the perfection of regulars is only one of these. What is meant by perfection?”653

Newman’s earliest view of perfection is contained in his “Santa Croce Papers,” which made a close connection between perfection and community:

Whatever then is meant by the word “perfection” in its ordinary sense, and that is intelligible enough, such is the characteristic attribute of the Congregation of the Oratory.

But to be more particular (i.e., Proof that the particular perfection of the Oratory is that of yielding one’s will to that of the rest):—the nature of the case suggests that what must be the characteristic attribute of the members of any community whatever, viz. their perfection, as members of a community is to act as such or as parts of a whole.

Here then is the characteristic and the perfection of the Congregation of the Oratory, that its members act as members, that they do not act in an independent isolated way, but in and for and by and from the body, as having no distinct interest and no private will.

This is a most momentous principle, and must be dwelt upon.

. . . A voluntary submission of the will to the Congregation is, as it were, the definition of good membership. In religious, properly so called, it consists in a scrupulous fulfillment of the vows, which includes obedience; but, there being no vows here to protect the life of the Society, to be an Oratorian is directly to consult for that life, to postpone one’s own wishes and will to its welfare . . .

It is then the fundamental principle of the Oratory, that no one is his own master, no one can live for himself alone. To live and to let live, in this sense of the words, to say “I will not interfere with you and you shall not interfere with me,” is the ruin of the congregation—and a person who so speaks has not in him the first element of an Oratorian.654

Several years later, when this understanding of perfection and community seemed to be lacking in some Oratorians, Newman shared his concern with his fellow Oratorian, J. D. Dalgairns: “It is this free and easy way of going on—this want of recognizing the Congregation as a sacred thing, which makes me more than any thing else anxious about the future. There seems an enormous tendency in our subjects to act each for himself, as if [he] were in a lodging house, and to be impatient of control.”655

A second aspect of Newman’s understanding of perfection is found in a Chapter Address of 1850 entitled “Perfection for Oratorians.”656 On the occasion of the ordination to the subdiaconate of two members of the Oratory, Stanislas Flanagan and Edward Caswall, Newman emphasized the idea that “if we would aim at perfection, we must perform well the duties of the day.”657

Newman felt that if all Christians, but especially religious are called to strive for perfection, few actually attain it because it is not only a difficult road to travel but also because it is so unknown and different from what most people experience. When Miss Holmes enthusiastically wrote Newman in 1853 about her recently discovered religious vocation, he pointed out that in the initial years of religious life it is comparatively easy to strive for perfection, but as time progresses it becomes more difficult. “I shall be truly rejoiced and thankful, to feel that God is calling you by His powerful grace—Yet, if so, you will always have a great struggle, and must expect, in the ordinary way of things, much trial. It is comparatively easy in the first moment of conversion to give oneself up to God—but after years have past, and certain habits are formed, and we have learned to serve him in a certain way, though not in perfection, it requires a great Face to rouse and carry on the languid soul to a religious life.”658

In addressing his Oratorian brothers, Newman used an analogy to stress the point that although we might humanly fear what lies ahead in striving for perfection, nevertheless God’s grace is always there to sustain us:

Watch the bricklayer mounting a high ladder—as he gets up it sways, it is exposed to the wind, He needs to plant it fast at bottom—he needs to be proof against giddiness—he needs to be accustomed to bear his load well, on his head or his shoulder, that he may neither lose it or lose his balance. Watch him—his feet dance up and down—take your hod of bricks or your trencher of mortar on your own shoulder and follow him up the ladder—will you not fear to do so? In like manner, fear much to ascend up the rounds of perfection, fear much, yet shrink not, if you are called to it—fear because you need grace, shrink not for you are promised grace. But without grace, and abundant grace, ruin is certain—your head, your shoulders, your feet will betray you—you will be precipitated down.659

Although Newman believed that we are called to strive for perfection, and that we depend on God’s grace to reach any degree of perfection, he was very much aware that along the way were certain traps such as heretical asceticism and illusions of prayer. In order to combat these two obstacles to perfection, Newman would advocate two practices: first, spiritual direction, and second, performing well the duties of the day.660

What then is to be done in these circumstances, in order to guard against a peril so great as to be appalling and discouraging to those who aim at perfection? Masters in the spiritual life, among other important rules, give the following two suggestions, as obvious yet as momentous as is the remark itself in which I suggested the danger when I began. The first is not to act of oneself—not to be one’s own director—not to dare to aim at perfection without some definite individual to whom we really and in detail yield obedience. I cannot conceive any more fearful hazard than that to which a soul will be exposed than that of attempting to be a saint on its own capital, as it may be called, by its own management and its own wisdom. We shall float down the stream or drift in any direction, if we have nothing on the shore to steady our course by.

The other remark I would make is, that we need not go too fast. Unless you prune off the luxuriances of plants, they grow bare, thin, and shabby at the roots. The higher your building is the broader must be its base—So it is with sanctity—Acts, words, devotions, which are suitable in saints, are absurd in other men—the second precept then of the religious guides, to whom I have alluded, is this:—that, if we would aim at perfection, we must perform well the duties of the day. I do not know anything more difficult, more sobering, so strengthening than the constant aim to go through the ordinary day’s work well. To rise at the exact time, to give the due time to prayer, to meditate with devotion, to assist at Mass with attention, to be recollected in conversation, these and similar observances carried duly through the day, make a man, as it is often said, half a saint, or almost a saint. It gives our aspirations too a definite scope. Men often know not what to be at—they have fervent desires to serve God and advance towards heaven, but they choose strange ways of accomplishing them. Here is the true answer to the question—the practical tangible work to be set before the aspirant.661

In 1847, when Newman was very new to the Oratorian way of life, he wrote about perfection mostly in relation to community life. In 1850, he viewed perfection as a gradual process more in terms of doing one’s duties well each day. Commenting on a fellow Oratorian’s dissatisfaction with the spiritual life of the Oratory and his projected departure from the community, Newman commented on striving for perfection as a gradual process. “Its proper effect will be to humble us; make us saints all at once it cannot. We must be content to be despised in (what the Protestant version calls) ‘our day of small things.’ A shrub must grow before it is a tree—young men in time become old. If we are young, this is a fault which mends—but we can’t help ourselves—If Coffin declares we are not Saints, there’s no denying it; we can but try to be.”662

Again in 1856, Newman envisaged striving for perfection as comprised of two elements: obedience to the community and performing one’s daily duties well. Since an Oratorian was a secular priest living in community and not a religious with vows, Newman came to believe that striving for perfection was essentially bound up with obedience to the community.

So far as the Oratory adds anything to the perfection of its subjects, beyond their perfection as secular priests, this perfection does not lie in any counsel of fasting, or of poverty, or of renunciation of the domestic affections, or of external inconveniences: or again of vow. The question follows, after considering what its perfection does not consist in, has it any perfection above that of the secular priest, and if so what.

The question is this—whereas, as I have said, perfection consists in the exact, ready, pleasant performance of the precepts of the New Law, and the avoidance of known venial sin in performing them; and whereas it is not to be expected that anyone will succeed in this exact fulfillment who aims at nothing more, or can possess the spirit to obey exactly, who has not the spirit to obey heartily and generously, and since such generous obedience is in other words the obedience which embraces counsels as well as precepts, and in this way the observance of some or other counsels are necessary for perfection, and whereas chastity and the vow of it are the great counsels which every priest has embraced, is there any other counsel over and above this, and parallel to this, which the Fathers of the Oratory take upon them on entering the Oratory, as their special instrument of going on to perfection.

Of course there is one, and that both from the nature of the case, and from the express appointment of St. Philip and the declaration of his first disciples, and that is obedience, though not the vow of it.

. . . I shall consider then obedience to the Community as our special means of perfection.663

In addition to stressing the relationship between striving for perfection and obedience to the community, Newman continued to associate perfection with performing one’s daily duties well.

What is meant by perfection? I suppose it is the power or faculty of doing our duty exactly, naturally, and completely, whatever it is, in opposition to a performance which is partial, slovenly, languid, awkward, clumsy, and with efforts. It is a life of faith, hope, and charity, elicited in successive acts according to the calls of the moment and to the vocation of the individual. It does not consist in any specially heroic deeds; it does not demand any fervour of devotion; but it implies regularity, precision, facility, and perseverance in a given sphere of duties. He is perfect who does the duties of the day perfectly.664

Finally, Newman’s Chapter Address entitled “A Short Rule to Perfection” expressed what striving for perfection meant in the spiritual life.

It is the saying of holy men that, if we wish to be perfect, we have nothing more to do than to perform the ordinary duties of the day well. <A short rule to perfection. Short, not because easy, but because pertinent and intelligible[.] There are no short ways toperfection, but there are sure ones.>

I think this is an instruction which may be of great practical use to persons like ourselves who make a profession of aiming at perfection. It is easy to have vague ideas what perfection is, which serve well enough to talk about it, when we do not intend to aim at it—but as soon as a person really desires and sets about seeking it himself, he is dissatisfied with any thing but what is tangible and clear, and constitutes some sort of direction towards the practice of it.

We must bear in mind what is meant by perfection—it does not mean any extraordinary service, anything out of the way, or especially heroic in our obedience (not all have the opportunity of heroic acts, sufferings) but it means what the word perfection ordinarily means. By perfect we mean that which has no flaw in it, that which is complete, that which is consistent, that which is sound. We mean the opposite of imperfect. As we know well what imperfection in religious service means, we know by the contrast what is meant by perfection.

He then is perfect who does the work of the day perfectly—and we need not go beyond this to seek for perfection. (You need not go out of the round of the day[.]) We are perfect, if we do perfectly our duties as members of the Oratory.665

Spiritual Direction and Vocational Choice

Newman never formulated a systematic approach to discernment of vocations. Rather, it was through his correspondence with individuals over many years, and specifically in his response to their inquiries, that certain elements of his thinking on vocational matters emerge.

First of all, he felt that an individual had to be called to a particular way of life. In a letter to Miss Munro who was contemplating entering the convent he wrote: “I don’t comprehend how a person can go into a convent to try, without having a call to try. As a vocation is necessary for the religious life, so a call to try a vocation is necessary for trying it. Now you say that your repugnance to a convent is increased. Then I ask, what is it that makes you think that you should be a nun any more than that your next door neighbour should be one?”666

This “call” entailed the effort to discern the will of God, to see if one was genuinely called by God to embrace a particular vocation. Newman did not specify any set procedure for discernment. Nevertheless, several letters suggest some factors that he considered important in trying to discern God’s will. First, he considered age an important factor in determining one’s vocation especially if the person was thinking of priesthood or religious life. Mrs. J. W. Bowden, the mother of a boy who wanted to join the Dominicans, wrote to Newman asking how she should advise her son. He replied: “Really his apparent vocation does seem very much like a boy’s whim—and my reason for saying so is that you may not be afraid of treating it as such. God’s inscrutable grace draws the young as well as the matured—and while there was reason to think that Charles was under its influence, one might well be anxious about interfering with it—but I really think you need not be afraid now of putting your own better judgement forward and dealing with him, according to it, as a boy.”667

Similarly, Newman advised people never to rush their decision. He felt that taking one’s time was another way of trying to discern God’s will. Robert Froude was eighteen and was thinking of entering the priesthood or religious life because of a retreat that he had just completed. In response to a request for his opinion, Newman replied:

Almighty God calls the soul in various ways and seasons. It is very seldom that one can know at once that one is called. I think that time is generally necessary. This requires patience, and patience is very difficult. I do not see that you can know in three days that you have a vocation to the priesthood. . . . I trust I never should keep a soul back from God who was called to religion, but I have known so many try and fail, that I am always glad to see a person slow in determining—(a person who tries and fails may do himself great harm) and when ultimately a person waits and does not become a religious, though I know some persons will say “You see he has lost his vocation by waiting,” it is quite as open to say, and sometimes I should say “You see he has found out what is his real vocation by waiting.”668

Similarly, Marianne Bowden was considering a vocation to religious life, but was uncertain as to what she should do. After writing Newman for direction, his response incorporated the ideas of waiting in patience and trusting in God:

You must simply put yourself into God’s hands. As I understood F. [Frances Bowden, her sister] you have no call on you to do any thing, or to decide on doing any thing, at this moment. Do you know, though this is of course a trial, yet I have ever felt it a great mercy. One of the greatest of trials is, to have it cast upon one to make up one’s mind,—on some grave question, with great consequences spreading into the future,—and to be in doubt what one ought to do. You have not this trial—it is also a trial to wait and do nothing but how great a mercy is it not to have responsibility! Put your self then, my dear Child, into the hands of your loving Father and Redeemer, who knows and loves you better than you know or love yourself. He has appointed every action of your life. He created you, sustains you, and has marked down the very way and hour when He will take you to Himself. He knows all your thoughts, and feels for you in all your sadness more than any creature can feel, and accepts and makes note of your prayers even before you make them. He will never fail you—and He will give you what is best for you. And though he tries you, and seems to withdraw Himself from you, and afflicts you, still trust in Him, for at length you will see how good and gracious He is, and how well he will provide for you. Be courageous and generous, and give Him your heart, and you will never repent of the sacrifice.669

Another characteristic in Newman’s approach to vocational choices was his willingness to ask advice of others. If he received a letter from someone he did not know inquiring about a vocational matter, he would often ask the opinion of someone else. For example, in 1851, when Charles Harrison (whom Newman did not know) wanted to become an Oratorian, Newman wrote to Richard Stanton for advice.670

In addition to these practical considerations, Newman also felt that prayer and penance were important factors in determining one’s vocation. To Robert Froude he wrote: “I would not say all this to every one—but I know you are a prudent boy, and I wish you gravely and continually to pray God, that you may be taught His Will as regards you. For we must persevere in prayer, if we would learn it.”671 In response to Froude’s inquiry about doing penance, Newman replied: “

I certainly think you should have some definite mortification. From my own fault, I daresay, I did not understand your wish for one till now. It is always advisable in such cases as you describe your own to be. The anxiety is to fix on one which is fitting—which may neither be a burden on your conscience nor interfere with your duties to others, and yet answers its purpose.

I do not know how to mention anything at once;—1. because I do not know what you do already. 2. Next because it ought to be something which suits you. I will put down on a separate paper two or three penances, which you might choose from, or use as suggestions for others which I do not happen to mention.672

Yet, once the preliminary process of discernment was completed, Newman was ready to advise a person to try a vocation. He realized that a director can only give limited advice; eventually, everyone has to take personal responsibility for vocational decisions: “All I can say is that Eddy’s inclination is not my doing. No one can answer for a boy’s mind—and no one can turn him at his will—No one can control his ultimate intentions. One can but influence him for a time, and then he must be his own master, and he must decide for himself whether that influence has succeeded in the interval to determine his decision or not.”673

Finally, Newman did not feel that those thinking of a religious vocation should be sheltered from the world. He felt that contact with the world was the best thing possible because it made a person more realistic. In response to Edward Bellasis whose son was considering a vocation to the priesthood, Newman wrote:

I have little belief in true vocations being destroyed by contact with the world—I don’t mean, contact with sin and evil—but that contact with the world which consists of such intercourse as is natural or necessary. Many boys seem to have vocations, in whom it is but appearance. They go to school, and the appearance fades away—and then people may say, “They have lost their vocation,” when they never had one. In such cases, it is on the other hand, rather, a positive good that they and their parents were not deceived. What I shrink from with dread, as the more likely danger, is not the Church losing priests whom she ought to have had, but gaining priests whom she never should have been burdened with. The thought is awful, that boys should have had no trial of their hearts, till at the end of some 14 years, they go out into the world with the most solemn vows upon them, and then perhaps for the first time learn that the world is not a seminary;—when they exchange the atmosphere of the Church, the lecture room, and the study, the horarium of devotion, work, meals, and recreation, for this most bright, various, and seductive world.674

Newman acknowledged that he dreaded “too early separation from the world” because it occasioned “the spirit of formalism.” Accordingly, he preferred secular education to seminary education:

Under then the two opposite difficulties, of depriving our Lord of his priests, and of giving to Him unworthy ones, I myself, if left to myself, should be disposed to act with far greater sensitiveness of the latter. I think a true vocation in a boy is not lost by secular education—at most it is but merged for a time, and comes up again—whereas a false vocation may be fatally and irreversibly fostered in a seminary. Or at least, it is more common in this age for false vocations to be made by an early dedication to the religious or ecclesiastical state, than for true vocations to be lost by early secular education.675

Since Newman believed there was a substantial difference in a vocation to priesthood and a vocation to religious life, one of his dominant concerns was that people choose the appropriate vocation. For example, Robert Froude thought he had a vocation to religious life, while Newman thought he had been deliberating about a possible vocation to the priesthood:

I do not think that you have that certainty about your vocation, to warrant you to go against his (father’s) wishes. All this has reference to the Priesthood. But you speak of entering religion—this is not what I understood you to say last Monday. I thought you said a vocation to the Priesthood. A vocation to religion is a very different thing. If it would be a difficulty to decide on the Priesthood, much greater is the difficulty to decide on religion. And I confess that your letter has frightened me in this respect. Of course I understand there is a fullness of divine grace which leads the soul to go right in the most unusual courses—but we ought to be sure that we have it. Ordinarily speaking, ordinary means must cooperate with grace. Ordinarily speaking, a greater imprudence could not be committed than for you at your age to decide upon religion. Recollect it is said that as many souls are lost by choosing wrongly as in any other way. A man may be more easily lost by becoming a religious when he is not called, as by not becoming one when he is. And from the difference of what you said to me and write to me, I don’t think you have a clear difference between the religious and the ecclesiastical state. . . . I trust I never should keep a soul back from God who was called to religion, but I have known so many try and fail, that I am always glad to see a person slow in determining.676

Encouragement and Support

With people whom he knew, Newman did not hesitate in taking the initiative in vocational matters. At times he would ask them if they had ever considered a particular vocation: “I have lately wondered why you do not think more of the prospect of embracing the religious life. The reason you used to have, viz, your family, not seeming to tell now, as it did.”677 At other times he would advise a person directly to enter the priesthood or religious life,678 and if there was a doubt as to which community, he would state his preference in relation to a particular individual.679 Simultaneously, he wanted people to be realistic about their vocational choice, to know, as well as they could, what their life would be like. Moreover, he was greatly opposed to people acting impetuously and was well aware of the possibility of people wanting to enter religious life for inadequate motives.680

With some people, Newman even played the role of “devil’s advocate.” In a letter to Mrs. Bowden, he told her about the rigors of a community her daughter Marianne was thinking of joining and concluded the letter by saying: “Of course it is my line here to take the office of the Advocatus diaboli, and to urge every thing against any step, which deserves consideration.”681

Several years later, when her sister Emily also wanted to pursue a religious vocation, Newman became concerned over her motivation.

I had intended not to decide till the Assumption—but my mind is quite clear a month before it. And I have no reason to delay to tell you what I deliberately think.

It is, that you have a vocation to a religious life. You cannot help thinking I have gone to and fro—but I have not. I have wanted to see whether your own thoughts on the subject would undergo a change—and I wanted calmly to reflect on what I already know about you. Now you seem to me precisely where you were—in your last letter you express in a simple natural way just what you expressed months ago. When left to yourself, you seem to me to look one way and one way only.

It comes home to me forcibly, that I know various persons who desire to have a vocation and have not, and would be content indeed to find in themselves those marks of a vocation, which show themselves in you.

My opinion is, that, if you find the right convent, you will never wish to leave it.682

In a similar letter, Newman wrote to George Ryder concerning his sister’s desire to be a nun. “As to your sister, all depends on how she gets on at Hammersmith—which we shall see—It is not unnatural that she should wish to be settled, and that she should catch at any thing which promises well—but we must take care that this leads her to be precipitate. The convent was not my suggestion—though I think it on the whole a good one. I have put before her very strongly its disadvantageous side.”683

In general, a characteristic feature of Newman’s spiritual direction was his encouragement and support of others in pursuing their vocations. Not only was he sensitive to their trials and difficulties, but he also had a way of helping them understand the action of God in their lives. For example, when Catherine Bathurst entered the convent Newman wrote to her:

We must be very grateful for so good a beginning—it comes of His infinite mercy who loves you as entirely and wholly as if there were no other souls on earth to love or take care of. You are choosing Him for your portion and your All—and He is your All, and nothing will or can harm you, though your enemy may try to frighten you. And then the Angels will smile at each other and upon you at your fears and troubles—and will say “This poor little soul is in a great taking as if God were leaving her—but He is All faithful, and has loved her—everlastingly, and will preserve her to the end.”684

However, after a few months, she began to experience difficulties and wondered whether she should enter the novitiate. Newman encouraged her to try:

You went with a very good heart to Loughborough, and I was thankful to witness it, you felt you could almost volunteer to do so, and I would not for the world damp so promising a purpose. Do not be discouraged and give up, merely because trials come upon you which were sure to come.

. . . But since you have been led there, do not shrink—go on, and go through it. Should you not have a vocation, God will make this known to you—but let it be determined by the event; do not by any act of yours anticipate His decision.685

Despite his encouragement she decided to leave and Newman again wrote her a supportive letter.

Of course I was very sorry to find what disappointment and anxiety you were in, and grieved for the perplexities which still beset your course, but I could not feel any surprise at what you told me, and I have a consolation in thinking that, though you may not see it yourself, the good Hand of Providence is bringing you forward, and by means of your trials bringing you nearer to Him.

. . . Do not be cast down because your Loving Father is bringing you to Heaven in His own way. He sees that way is quite as necessary, as in this world a physician’s regimen is for the sick. . . . You will see it all clearly enough, please God—hereafter. Now the only question is, what should you do at the moment.686

Not only did Newman encourage those persons who were contemplating a religious vocation, but he also supported parents who were distraught by their child’s vocational choice. In 1863, he responded to a letter written by the Duchess of Norfolk, whose daughter Minna had decided to become a Carmelite. “It is very kind in you to write to me on a subject so near to your heart. I can well imagine the mixture of feelings, the pain and the joy, with which you have received this intimation of the gracious Will of God. But, though many are able to imagine them, One alone, besides yourself, is able to understand and estimate your sacrifice; and that is He who asks for it. And, while He blesses the child so specially, He will include the Mother in the blessing.”687

To Lady Henry Kerr, whose daughter Henrietta was about to become a Sacred Heart nun he said:

You must not think I have been unmindful of you and Lord Henry’s letters, though I have not answered them. His news was most surprising and touching. I was extremely pleased to see your daughter, but how I felt for you and him, when he told me in his letter, that God had claimed her for Himself! . . .

In such a case the real offering is yours rather than hers. She quits a home but for another home and a more sacred. But you make the sacrifice and how vast it must be! But the merit you will have in preparing your daughter for it by the education of years, in your cooperation with it, and in your concurrence of will in it, will gain for you and Lord Henry a Presence under your roof more cheering and more consoling than that dear familiar face which you are losing. Ah how little I thought when I looked on her for that brief minute, that she was passing away from your eyes almost as quickly as she did from mine.688

Similarly, Newman consoled Mrs. J. W. Bowden, whose daughter Emily wanted to follow her sister’s example and become a Visitation nun: “Your letter and Emily’s took me quite by surprise, and startled and distressed me. I cannot doubt that we shall feel quite reconciled to it soon. All along I have felt for you far more than another can know—though far more removed from any one’s understanding, except your Lord and Saviour’s, is the extent of the trial which is apparently coming on you. He will sustain you, as you know well—and I suppose it is right and safe for you at present to make up your mind that it is to be.”689

While Newman’s letters were supportive, they were also characterized by honesty. For example, when Robert Whitty consulted him about his suitability to be an Oratorian, Newman responded very candidly:

You may be sure we have none of us any but the kindest feelings towards you, and wish what is best for you and best for us. Do not think it is inconsistent with this profession if I say plainly that every letter you send convinces me more and more that you have not a vocation for the Oratory—for, if it is the deliberate conviction of all of us, as it is surely, our affectionate feelings and our true regard are best shown, not in hiding this conviction, but in telling you of it.

Certainly it would be but insincerity and inconsideration to let you come back here, and cherish a fixed judgement in our hearts, which must come out practically when your first year of probation was ended, and a fresh voting took place for your admission into your second.

You know the very name of the noviceship, in our Rule, is the probation—You have been with us since Christmas—and we think we now see, what could we then have seen, there would have been no need of any ‘probation’ at all, that it will not be for your happiness or for your usefulness, that is, that it is not God’s will that you should continue among us . . .

It grieves me much to think, that we are losing one so sincerely attached to us, and who has so long taken a personal interest in us, but I am perfectly sure, that I am giving both you and myself and all of us less pain in coming to this decision now, than in protracting what is inevitable. I could say much about your last letter, and how each letter, as it comes, brings home to me with stronger cogency the certainty that God calls you elsewhere.690

When Newman perceived that someone was “using” the Oratory or undermining its spirit in any way, it evoked a sharp, immediate response. This was the case with Baron von Schroeter who was causing division in the community. Newman wrote to him:

All blessings be with you, my dear Baron, wherever you go. I say so the more heartily, because I cannot think of you without sentiments, which it is very painful to me to entertain towards one who has been in the relation towards us which you have held. The Birmingham Oratory received you a year ago, a stranger coming without letters of introduction, with open arms. It has treated you with the frankness and warmth which it shows towards its own subjects. It has consulted for you with the most anxious delicacy and tenderness, and has honored you for the grace God had given you. It has cherished you in its bosom with the most unsuspicious love.

In recompense, you have availed yourself of the opportunities these gave you to do your utmost to ruin the Institution of St. Philip, to make its subjects despise it, to fill them with suspicions against it and against each other, to prejudice externals against it. I am not simply speaking of the instance of F. Coffin, but of the general action of your presence among us on all who have come near you. One has heard of seducers getting into families, and ruining their peace. You have breathed out from you a sort of moral infection, which nothing could resist, under God’s grace, but the antagonist spirit of loyalty towards our great Saint and his institution.

And now I have but one request to make to you; that you will not write to any of us, or hold any communication with us. . . . Not that I fear you; St. Philip has guarded this body and will still; but from charity to the souls of any you may have tempted, I am bound to make this request.691

George Ryder, a widower, also wrote to Newman exploring the possibility of dedicating his life in some more definite way. He had thought of undertaking some active work that would have involved mixing with others, rather than keeping to his family and the memories of his wife. With great sensitivity, Newman encouraged him honestly to consider the alternatives and consequences of his desires and whether they would be consistent with his primary vocation in relation to God’s will.692

The needs of persons thinking about leaving religious life provided another context for insights into Newman’s honesty in directing others. When Arthur Hutton told him in 1883 that he had lost all belief in the existence of a personal God, the empathy of Newman is manifested in his response:

I will not allow that you are, as you say, “irrevocably cut off” from your friends (all that is dear to you),—and since your letter to me came, I have wished to say so. I treasure the words in that letter in which you almost anticipate (may I not use the term?) that the time will come, when you will “make a sincere act of faith in Catholicism.” That will be a joyful day, and I assure you of our united prayers that God will hasten its coming. You believe more than you think you do, and God loves you better than, in your dishonouring thought of Him, you allow yourself to fancy. He will overcome you in spite of yourself.693

On another occasion, in 1861 a controversy arose surrounding the Oratory School. Nicholas Darnell, who had been its headmaster, threatened to resign and leave the Birmingham Oratory. This prompted Newman’s response:

My first thought this morning was to write to you a private line, entreating you for St. Philip’s sake to be merciful to yourself and to us. We cannot bear to part with you. You have a place in our hearts, and are rooted both in the Oratory and among our people. Why will you destroy the work of so many years, and leave all our affections lacerated and bleeding?

There is only one thing we prefer above you, and that is our duty to St. Philip. I cannot believe that your good sense will not tell you, that you have been precipitate both in the steps that you have taken towards the Congregation, and in announcing them to the world. But, if your good sense tells you as much as that, why not say so? Is it not unlike your generous disposition to refuse to avow what I venture to say every one feels?

If, however, you still refuse, I will not give up hope. I will hope that time and reflection will effect what our intreaties cannot. Accordingly, I shall propose to the Congregation to put off the consideration of your letter of resignation for six months, giving you leave of absence in the interval.694

On the other hand, if Newman felt that a person was changing their vocation for inadequate reasons, he did not hesitate to engage in a long series of letters to help the person clarify the situation. Such was the case with R. A. Coffin who wanted to leave the Oratory because he felt that it had no tradition of spiritual life or spiritual training. However, in reality Coffin had been under the influence of Baron von Schroeter, who was causing dissension in the Oratory. When Newman learned this, he very honestly advised Coffin to leave.

With characteristic perseverance, Newman did not abandon people pursuing their vocational search through doubts and difficulties. Rather, it was not unusual for him to correspond frequently with persons who were attempting to discern God’s will. The best example is his correspondence with Miss Maria Giberne; between April 18, 1859 and January 29, 1864, he wrote her twenty-two times concerning her vocation. Through these years she either applied to or entered five different religious communities and throughout this long correspondence Newman’s understanding is manifest as he gently encouraged, consoled, questioned, and directed her. Finally his direction bore fruit when she entered the Visitation Convent in Autun in 1863, where she remained for the rest of her life.

Spiritual Direction and Religious Life

“Santa Communita”

Newman constantly emphasized the importance of “Santa Communita” both in his Oratory Papers and Letters. For him, an Oratorian was not simply a secular priest, but one “living in community.” Accordingly, Newman had to work out a doctrine of perfection for a community without religious vows, for the Oratorians were neither “religious” per se, nor simply secular priests.

In his “Oratory Papers,” Newman described what he meant by community:

A community is more than a lodging house—it is more than a number of priests living in one house. It is a home and family; it is a number of priests living as one family; and hence the Superior is, in the Oratory, called simply “Father”—and the rest are called by their Christian names. A community is a whole or unity; it has one spirit, one mind, one view of things, one action; and the obedience which it exacts from its members, in which lies their perfection, is acquiescence, concurrence in this one spirit, view and action, as an act of loyal and dutiful submission.695

Newman’s ideas of community life reverted back more to his comfortable Oriel College day, than to his more austere Littlemore experience. One of his earliest Chapter Addresses indicated his preference in unmistakable terms:

Now I will say in a word what is the nearest approximation in fact to an Oratorian Congregation that I know, and that is, one of the Colleges in the Anglican Universities. Take such a College, destroy the Head’s House, annihilate wife and children, and restore him to the body of fellows, change the religion from Protestant to Catholic, and give the Head and Fellows missionary and pastoral work, and you have a Congregation of St. Philip before your eyes. . . . An Oratorian has his own rooms, and his own furniture . . . they do not form a cell but a nest. He is to have his things about him, his books and little possessions. In a word he is to have what an Englishman expresses by the distinctive word comfort. And this characteristic of the Oratorian’s private room is but a specimen of every part of an Oratorian establishment.696

Almost thirty years later in 1877, Newman reiterated this view in reply to Edward Plumptre, an Anglican, whose correspondence indicated his misunderstanding of the Oratorian vocation. Sensitive to his inquirer’s background Newman explained:

The nearest idea in the Church of England to an Oratory is a College, except that a College is dedicated to various Objects of devotion, the Holy Trinity, Jesus, Corpus Christi, St. Mary, St. Peter, St. John, etc. and an Oratory to one special Saint, St. Philip Neri—also that its few and simple Statutes are the same in all Oratories. Like a College, an Oratory is a local institution, is independent, and has no connexion with any other Oratory. Its members take no vows, may leave when they please, keep their own private property, and are, as a body, self-erecting.697

Yet for Newman, the basis of community life was not simply a matter of its collegiate structure; faith must be the basis for charity in community life. Without faith, there is very little chance of stability, and, over a long period of time a person will not persevere. In a Chapter Address to Oratorian novices he stated:

The Christian life may be comprised in two words, faith and charity, as we all very well know. Faith is the foundation, charity is the building. Faith is the first and chief essential—because no building can stand without something to stand upon. . . . We see instances of this, alas, all around us in this country—instances surely without number of kind warm feelings, benevolent purposes, and pure intentions wasted and lost, because they are not founded and secured on the true faith. . . . This life is wasted in the case of so many, because they build their house on no foundation, because they begin with charity, or what seems like charity, when they should begin with faith.”698

For Newman, the charity which is necessary to unify a community must have its foundation in faith:

Our great duty we know is charity—that is charity towards each other—a most perfect singleminded openhearted love. . . . And that of course particularly, in the shape of brotherly love, and affectionateness which tends to be like that of kindred. Much do we hear in our rule and the writings of our fathers of former years of this brotherly affection as taking the place of vows, as being the bond between Oratorian and Oratorian, as being the principle of unity and the life of the Congregation. Much is not said about faith—But of course when all this is said about charity, it implies faith as its foundation—and as faith in God is the ground of charity of God, so faith in the Congregation is the ground of charity towards the Congregation—and as we have no security that we shall continue to love God without true faith in Him, so there is no security that affection shall continue towards each other, if we do not start with a firm faith in the Congregation and in each other. We enter the Congregation in faith—we pass on, we take it for granted, and then we go on to something higher, to charity—and are enabled to go on to that which is higher on account of that indispensable beginning, which we exercise indeed continually, but which we do not talk about because it is so obvious.699

Since Oratorians did not take religious vows, Newman felt that their ability to live in community was a gift from God, “a supernatural grace”: “As faith is preceded and sustained by human reasonings, yet is really a divinely imparted assent to the Divine Word, so, were there not a real vocation, the work of a divine influence in the Oratory, its members would not keep together. It is not everyone who has this gift of living with others. Not every holy soul can live in community. Perhaps very few can do so.”700

Although Newman believed that the ability to live in community was ultimately a gift that only God could give, he acknowledged the necessity of natural predispositions. The first of these is human affection. Newman believed that on a human level, it was necessary for the members to have a genuine liking for each other.701 Human affection is the “animating principle,” as well as “the initiative principle and the abiding support” of the Oratorian vocation. “It is this personal feeling which draws us to the Community, and keeps us in it; heightened of course and perfected by that supernatural charity, which enables us to retain and strengthen an affection, year after year, which, if left simply human, would surely die away. Perseverance in that affection is the work of grace.”702

Consequently, Newman favored small communities; he felt that if they got too large, the members could not truly know one another well and this bond of affection would be lost. As early as 1849, Newman had written to Faber about the importance of small communities.

Since then mutual carita is the basis of St. Philip’s Rule, and love cannot exist among many (in the sense in which it is necessary for the basis of a Rule) you cannot have a large Oratory. We are too large for our Oratory. Nothing proves it more than our Recreations. The Rule at Recreation is that conversation should be general. Is that possible with us? does not every one of necessity talk to his neighbour? Hence Recreation, which is the time for showing and eliciting love, is just the stiffest coldest act of the whole day. For myself, if there is one thing more than another which makes me seem cold, it is our Recreations. No one (certainly not I) can talk confidentially or lovingly to a great number. Where one would unbosom oneself to each person separately, one cannot to all together. So intensely do I feel it myself, that I prophesy I always shall be accused of coldness and reserve, while we are large. What happens to me, will happen in its measure, I do not say in the same measure, to others. . . . If then Recreation must be general (as Baronius says,) the Congregation must be small. . . . The Oratory is a family.703

Another prerequisite for community life is obedience, which is the backbone of community life. In Newman’s understanding of the Oratorian vocation (in contrast to the religious life), obedience is not vowed but voluntary:

In other religious institutions obedience is directed to a Rule or to a vow, and the community is obeyed on that account; here obedience is paid to the community as a first principle; and hence it is both necessary to the Oratory from the nature of the case, and its peculiarity as distinguished from other Congregations. I shall consider then obedience to the Community as our special means of perfection.

Among regulars the vow is the elementary principle of religious society; they obey because they have solemnly promised to do so. It is otherwise with us, we obey for the sake of obedience; we obey because we choose to obey, and for nothing else. Obedience then is our elementary principle, and thus we differ from others who live in community. And again, I say that obedience is not only special to us, but necessary from the nature of the case; for without this obedience for obedience sake, though we lived in one house, we should fall back into the state of secular priests. Thus we are kept out of that state, or rather elevated into something more than that state by the faculty of living together: since we are not obliged to do so, it is a matter of counsel. It is the counsel peculiar to us as members of the Oratory, and the means of our sanctification.704

Oratorian obedience assumed even greater importance when coupled with Newman’s understanding of mortification. For him the greatest mortification lay in the demands of community life; vita communis, mortificatio maxima (“community life is the greatest penance”): “Perfection involves some mortification, which is of counsel, not of precept. What is that mortification in our case? It is not that of renouncing literature and literary occupations, or the refinement of mind consequent upon them; it is not that of ceasing to be gentlemen and scholars; on the contrary, a certain moral and intellectual standard, higher than is necessary for secular priests in general, is one of the qualifications of the Oratory, as being an institution intended (the English Oratory expressly so) for the service of the upper classes.”705

Accordingly, Oratorian mortification could not entail abstinence from gentlemanly pursuits. Rather, from his earliest days as an Oratorian, Newman maintained that the greatest mortification was in fact being obedient to each other; of yielding one’s will to the others. “External mortification, as has been already said, is not the work of an Oratorian, but internal; or in other words, mortification of his private judgement, and his own will. And the necessity of internal mortification arises out of the simple fact that he lives in a community. For a community, if it be really such, and not a mere lodging or boarding house, if it be really a body or corporation, has a will of its own, to which the wills of individuals must be subordinate.”706

Another distinctive characteristic of community life for Newman is best described by the Italian word nido (“nest”). The Oratory was not merely a place of lodging for ministers; rather, it was their home.

The Congregation is to be the home of the Oratorians. The Italians, I believe, have no word for home—nor is it an idea which readily enters into the mind of a foreigner, at least not so readily as into the mind of an Englishman. It is remarkable then that the Oratorian Fathers should have gone out of their way to express the idea by the metaphorical word nido or nest, which is used by them almost technically. . . . The Congregation, according to St. Philip’s institution, is never to be so large that the members do not know each other. They are to be bound together by that bond of love, which daily intercourse creates, and thereby all are to know the ways of each, and feel a reverence for “countenances of familiar friends.” Familiar faces, exciting reverence, daily intercourse, knowledge of each other’s ways, mutual love, what is this but a description of home.707

Interestingly enough, a special place of prominence was given to the Refectory by Newman. Because the nature of Oratorian work throughout the day tended to be mostly personal or isolated, the community meal was one of the few occasions of common meeting each day. He considered it to be one of the chief religious acts of the day: “Our Church belongs to our work, but our Refectory to ourselves. It belongs to us as a Congregation, and has a special recognition in our Rule. It is not too much to say that it has a religious character, and may be called a sort of domestic chapel, and claims, as it is provided with, a ceremonial.”708

Building Community

Newman believed that there were three bonds of a community: charity, obedience, and what he called intellectual agreement. These three bonds were the essential factors that made community life endure over a long period of time. In a letter to Anthony Hutchison in 1850, Newman wrote about these three bonds of community, emphasizing the importance of intellectual agreement.

I am truly rejoiced to hear on all hands so good an account of the London House—I mean internally. That it has a spirit of carita, I know quite well. What I am very anxious it should cultivate, if possible, is another spirit besides—not obedience, for that it has too—but a third. There are three bonds of a community, carita, obedience, and intellectual agreement. . . . It is astonishing how much men get over who have the same views. It is the way in which good kind of people get on together, and is no mean example of religious principles of love and obedience.709

In treating charity as a bond of community life, and exhorting others to live it, Newman developed what he termed the “basis of carita.” For him, it did not mean that everyone had to agree on everything, but that persons should strive to be amiable and should try to acclimate themselves to each other.

It is not necessary for carita, even humanly considered, that the objects of it should be strong minded or should agree with us in opinion, but that they should be amiable.

However, nothing I have been saying interferes with my acknowledging how much must be done to put the Congregation on a better footing. On this subject I will not write today—but in conclusion I will remind you that all Acclimation is painful, and acclimation in a religious body as much as any one. No one but a Jesuit or a Trappist, knows what a Jesuit or Trappist goes thro’ in becoming a Jesuit or Trappist—but the vow binds them and they must go thro’ it. . . . We have no vows—and there is an urgent temptation to break away from that from which we can break away. We are able to speculate on want of peace and rest, for we have no vow to hinder us. But will our impatience benefit us? What religious order would suit us better than St. Philip’s light yoke?710

The cumulative value of these three bonds of community for Newman, lay in the fact that he felt these would bring about unity in community life and therefore free individuals to be of service to the Church. As he stated in accepting W. G. Penny’s departure from the Oratory, “All things must be subservient to ‘santa communità,’ and that ‘all should accomodate themselves to the good of the community, which rule of conduct includes a treasure of merits,’ that the first degree of charity is to the Congregation which is our mother, our nurse, and our guide to heaven; and that ‘whoever aspires to sanctity must heartily follow holy community’.”711

Newman realized that this level of unity was difficult to attain. In 1850 he wrote to Faber saying, “From the first moment I thought of the Oratory, the natural difficulty that occurred was to secure unity.”712 At the same time it was important for everyone in the community to realize that they were striving for this kind of unity together. It could not be brought about by one individual, even if that person be the superior. “A common Superior no more makes united houses, than England and Ireland would be one, with one queen, after the repeal of the Union.”713 Without this common goal, differences of spirit and opinion would arise making persons in the community either good friends or “better strangers.”714

In his correspondence, much of Newman’s direction of others in relation to community emphasized the meaning and value of these three bonds of community and the importance of striving together for unity. For example, during his first few years as a Catholic, he experienced the pains of acclimatization and difficulties encountered in founding two Oratorian houses. Much of his direction of others at this time in relation to community life centered around individual problems occasioned by the division of the Oratory into two communities—one at Birmingham and the other in London.715After these initial difficulties, most of his direction dealt with particular aspects of community life.716

At times his direction took the form of fraternal correction. With sensitivity and tact he wrote to J. D. Dalgairns concerning a fault that was affecting the community.

I think then, Charissime, that you have a great fault, which, if I put it harshly, I should call, contempt of others. This has grown upon me lately, and I have reason to believe that others, independent of me, have the same opinion of you. No one among us speaks against the old Catholic Priests, as you do; no one so laughs at the Bishop as you. You are accustomed to laugh at every way of doing things but your own. At your doubts at table, you have laughed at FF Ambrose, Richard, and perhaps others. Your manner, when you begin or rise to do a thing, is, “Now I am going to do it.” I think I have seen you thrust people aside, and do a thing yourself.

When you came here it was as if you were going to do the thing and others were “slow.” All ways were slow but yours. You never asked my advice from the first in anything. You took up certain youths. . . . You filled the rooms with them, because they were yours; the convenience of others, who had souls or who might care for souls also, being quite out of your thoughts . . . the penitents, the catechumens, the visitors of others might shift for themselves.

Now all this would be defensible, were you simply in your own home, but you were in a community house, and you were one of a Congregation, and the Congregation should be first, and its subjects subordinate. The Congregation should be supreme, it should be the prominent idea in the minds of the people, it endures, its members change, but they are individuals, and only instruments of the whole; whereas, as if to make the Congregation little and yourself first, not content with private leave takings, you preached a farewell sermon, thus putting yourself (unintentionally) above the Congregation.717

Throughout his correspondence, what emerges is Newman’s concern for the individual and that person’s growth. He was not in favor of universal rules; he favored personal guidance, as his letters to the novice master, John Flanagan, about the training of the novices indicate: “I like them [rules for the novices] very much, but think you must be very cautious of treating every novice alike. What is too strict for one is not strict enough for another. I don’t mind your putting any thing on Harry [Ryder]—but you may break Victor [Duke]. Of course there is such a thing as a vocation or a want of a vocation—but what is a source of life to one is an occasion of scruples to another.”718

Simultaneously, Newman felt that even though there were problems in community life, a person would grow best in community. For example, when Faber wrote to Newman about Henry Formby wanting to live outside the community, Newman responded: “He should be sure that the secret motive, or at least one motive, be not to get free of the restraints of community life. And he should consider whether those restraints are not the very thing he needs both for his moral advancement and his usefulness.”719

A similar view was expressed in a letter to John Lans:

The truth is, as you know far better than I can , it does not do for members of a community to live out of community. They lose their interest in the body, and moreover, losing the stimulus which it supplies to progress in the religious life, they become slothful, despondent, and tepid. This seems to have been Mr. Coffin’s case, and from his own avowals; and then, finding himself without inward life, he judged of others by himself, and fancied that a disease attached to the body, which was his own. His mind brooded on itself, and at length he coloured the past, as well as the present, with hues derived from his own feelings.720

On the other hand, he felt that it took effort to build community and that persons ought to encourage each other. When J. D. Dalgairns wrote saying that he was discouraged by several things happening in the community, Newman replied: “You must not droop. I feel this strongly. . . . Your business is to strengthen the bonds, and deepen the feelings, which unite these Fathers to each other. . . . You have everything in your favor—Your only enemy is loss of self confidence.”721 Similarly he wrote to Faber concerning the difficulty of Formby: “Lastly, if he [Henry Formby] is not at all moved, you must not [I think] hesitate to put before him, that he will have a great trial, if he remains with us. He has to overcome self. But that in the process he will be cheered by the feeling, that it is a work of all others most pleasing to God; and that we on earth, his brothers, will cheer and help him on as well as we can.”722

Qualities of an Oratorian

Given the historical background and the development of the special character of the Oratorians, Newman came to emphasize certain qualities as requisites for membership. It is a remarkable fact that one pivotal principle for Oratorian life which Newman brought away with him out of Oxford and Littlemore is the necessity for an Oratorian to be a “gentleman.”723 Basing his beliefs on St. Philip Neri’s teaching and early Oratorian life, he conceived this quality to be a help to Christian perfection and essential for their particular apostolate.

In Newman’s description, “gentleman-likeness” is the hallmark of a liberal education rather than a badge of social rank. Similarly, although his “Remarks on the Oratorian Vocation,” treat “rank” as one of the qualifications of a Father of the Oratory, he posed the question whether the Oratory may have a long wait for recruits, since very few of such rank will be forthcoming. He replied that since St. Philip’s time, a whole new class of society has come into being, so that a priest who has the education, if not the ancestry, of a gentleman, could completely exemplify the idea of a gentleman.

To the question “What have gentlemanlike manners and refined feelings to do with religion?”, Newman replied:

We are not here contemplating refinement of mind by itself, but as superadded to a high religious perfection . . . and it does not follow, because refinement is worthless without sainthness, that it is needless and useless with it. It may set off and recommend an interior holiness, just as the gift of eloquence sets off logical argument. . . . The gift of words is necessary to be able to persuade; and so the gift of manners may be necessary to win . . . though Christian excellence is abstractedly most refined, most winning, yet from various circumstances . . . it may not possibly be so. . . . And if this may be true even of saints, so much the more will it be true of a multitude of good men who are not saints, in whom from infirmities of various sorts, from natural temper, from the bad habits of childhood . . . the meek, loving and considerate Spirit of Christ does not flow from the heart to the eyes and the tongue and the other instruments of external communication.724

What is more important is the aspect of spirituality that “gentleman-likeness” should include.

There is a far greater tendency to misunderstandings, jealousies, irritation, resentment and contention, when the mind has not been cultivated or what is called enlarged, than where books and the intercourse of society and the knowledge of the world have served to put things in their true light, to guard the mind from exaggeration, to make it patient of differences, and to give it self command amid differences of opinion and conduct. I do not mean to say that these virtues I have mentioned are necessarily Christian—but they are Christian in a Christian—When a Christian mind takes them up into itself they cease to be secular, they are sanctified by their possessor, and become the instruments of spiritual good.725

Conversely, the lack of such education can have regrettable results among religious: “We have but to reflect upon the petty quarrels which are apt to divide religious houses, the rivalries, the punctilios and the misconceptions, and then again which exist in such very various and aggravated forms in the world at large to feel the influence of a liberal education and the experience of life in enabling the mind to be at once calm yet observant and versatile.”726

While Newman wanted the Oratorians to be gentlemen, he also wanted his brothers to relate to each other in fraternal charity. “St. Philip, we know, founded his Congregation in charity—making it the distinguishing mark by which his children were different from regulars, that what regulars did from observance of the sanctity of their vow, the Oratorian was to do from love. Love was to stand in the place of vows.”727 Yet Newman recognized that this is a difficult process. “But it must be confessed such instances are instances of a passion or affection, and we cannot at a moment by willing or by trying bring ourselves into such a state. We cannot have a personal love towards individuals without going through a course of discipline, in order to obtain it, without much care and watchfulness, without knowing them well, without observing many minute rules.”728

In order to foster this fraternal love in community, its members must see themselves not as isolated individuals who happen to live together but as members of one body. For Newman this implied a willingness to “bear one another’s burdens.” “What I mean by bearing each other’s burdens is simply this: that every one in his place should not only do his own duty, but should try to support and cheer others in theirs. . . . Do not be content with barely doing your duty up to the necessary work, but throw your heart in it—nay more, do the duty of others, and when you help them do it with that delicacy, genialness and good nature that they may feel it, not an encroachment, but a real kindness, and be grateful to you.”729

In practice, “looking at ourselves as one body” meant “hiding as far as is right the imperfections or deficiencies or mistakes of others, not drawing them into open view, putting them aside from one’s mind, and dwelling upon their strong point or amiable points of character.”730 Fraternal behavior also means “not to do things grudgingly . . . to avoid any unnecessary criticism (observation), knowing that any one can look on and see faults, but few persons can act without committing a great many: not to say a thing behind a person’s back which we would not say to his face.”731 In fraternal life, “as a rule, it would seem best, when we see or think we see any thing going wrong, great or small, not to talk of it, but to mention it privately to the person it concerns, the head of the department or the like.”732

While the Oratorians were not obliged to share their possessions by a vow of poverty, in a deeper sense, there was “the duty for us to have all things in common.”733

Our property, whatever it be, is our own, and there may be duties upon it external to the Congregation. But our persons, if I may so speak, are not our own—our time, our thought, our trouble, our abilities, are not our own. . . . When he became an Oratorian, he gave himself up, and became the property of others. And in like manner, as far as may be, there should be a common mind in the Congregation—each should profit by the advantages of the others—What proceeds from the Congregation of a theological, or literary kind, should be the work of all—I mean, that is one to exhaust what he has of learning or resources on his own name, or should seek the aggrandiziment [sic] of his own name, but should freely give to others, be willing for others to have the credit, of his own labour, knowledge or ability.734

Such sharing should effect a simple confidence among the members of the Oratory.

Newman realized that fraternal “behaviour towards each other” was not an easy task. Similarly, acutely aware of the existing divisions among classes in England, Newman wanted the Oratory to be a leaven both in the Church and in society. “There is a very great danger I am persuaded of our body getting (and partly justly) a character of uppishness, flippancy, criticalness and the like, from neglect of mortifying those tendencies which lead to these odious results . . .

“I have already hinted at the divisions in the Catholic body in England—your mission is to lessen them, to destroy them, to bind together in one, good men whom perverse circumstances or rather I suppose our Enemy is keeping separate from one another.”735

Ministry of the Oratory

“Responsibility for souls,” was a pastoral principle indelibly imprinted on Newman from the time of his ordination as a deacon in the Church of England.736 Both as an Anglican and as a Roman Catholic, Newman had a great dedication to and a capacity for ministry. Although engaged in parish work, it was not specifically characteristic of his care for souls; rather education, considered as pastoral care, was his true field and, in one way or another, occupied most of his life.737 In 1879, among his replies to Addresses made to him on the occasion of his cardinalate, there is one brief but pregnant response, in reply to the members of the Catholic Poor School Committee, which underlines his lifelong commitment to an intellectual apostolate: “Long before I was a Catholic Priest . . . when I was Public Tutor of my College at Oxford, I maintained, even fiercely, that my employment was distinctly pastoral.”738

Later, as an Oratorian, Newman developed his understanding of Oratorian ministry from a close analysis of the spirit of St. Philip and his early followers. In adapting Oratorian life for England, Newman realized that a slavish interpretation of the Rule was both impossible and undesirable. Rather, he wanted to adapt the spirit of St. Philip to English ways. In a letter to T. F. Knox explaining the difference between Oratorians, Sulpicians, and Jesuits he wrote: “We must throw ourselves into the spirit of that which we are.”739

Because Oratorian life centered on a particular place, residence became a dominant factor in determining the forms of their ministry.740 “I consider that any occupation which carries a Father often or for a considerable time from the Oratory, is inconsistent with its spirit but of course some latitude of view is necessary in this matter, and Oratories will differ in their judgement on the point.”741

In comparing the Oratory to other religious communities in relation to continuous residence, Newman wrote to John Flanagan in 1857: “It seems St. Philip’s will that we should depend on our neighbourhood—every other hope seems to break under us. . . . The Oratory is an isolated body, and a local one. If the Jesuits or Redemptorists do not get on well in one country, they can betake themselves to another. But we must found a claim of merit, and exhibit a visible, tangible, serviceableness, in that red brick house which stands upon a triangular island close to the Plough and Harrow. We have yet to find our place, as an Oratory, in the English Church.”742

Another emphasis in Oratorian ministry was its orientation towards the ordo honestior (“upper classes”).743 Although this emphasis eventually proved to be a serious source of tension in the development of the English Oratory,744 it is one of the major reasons why Newman wanted the Oratorians to be a learned body, pursuing science, the arts and literary endeavors.745

Following St. Philip, Newman believed that his own role as well as that of the Oratory was to be one of personal influence. It was primarily through the ministry of education that this influence could be exerted. Newman was able to realize his ideas to some degree by accepting the Rectorship of the Catholic University in Ireland (1851–1858). Subsequently, the Birmingham Oratory opened a school for boys. In spite of delays, disappointments, and the prospect of failure, the school “while remaining small, proved a real success, and its example and competition raised the standard of the other Catholic schools.”746

In addition to educational work, Oratories commonly had a parish attached to them; within the general parish structure, particular emphasis was given to both preaching and hearing confessions.747 Finally, and perhaps surprisingly, Newman felt it important for Oratorians to minister at the Union Workhouse and the prison:

The Union Workhouse comes next to be mentioned: and the care of it is just one of those works, which, historically belong to the Oratory. Not only did St. Philip send the Brothers of the Oratory, to the hospitals, as their distinct work on feast days; but Baronius, when a priest and as a priest, attended them. The Blessed Sebastian is said to have preached, among other places, in poor houses, prisons, and hospitals . . .

The care of the prison is another of those works; we may trust that, as time goes on, we may be able to do more there [than] the law of the land allows us at present.748

“Counsels”

Although Oratorians as secular priests living in community did not take vows, the counsels of poverty, chastity and obedience were important aspects of Newman’s idea of religious life, and one of the principal areas in which he directed others. In contrast to the religious life where poverty is vowed, the Oratorian vocation did not entail the obligation of poverty. As Newman observed, “Our perfection, as we well know, does not consist in the counsel of poverty. ‘Habeant possideant,’ (let them own, let them possess) were the words of St. Philip, when some persons were anxious to introduce it into his Congregation.”749 Since the Oratorian vocation did not include in the counsel of poverty, Newman rarely wrote about it. Occasionally, he connected poverty with mortification, especially mortifying one’s own self-will, in what can be called poverty of spirit.750

Second, in regard to celibacy,751 Newman, early in life felt called to live a single life; he described this call in a well-known passage of the Apologia:

I am obliged to mention, though I do it with great reluctance, another deep imagination, which at this time, the autumn of 1816, took possession of me,—there can be no mistake about the fact; viz. that it would be the will of God that I should lead a single life. This anticipation, which has held its ground almost continuously ever since,—with the break of a month now and a month then, up to 1829, and, after that date, without any break at all,—was more or less connected in my mind with the notion, that my calling in life would require such a sacrifice as celibacy involved; as, for instance, missionary work among the heathen, to which I had a great drawing for some years. It also strengthened my feeling of separation from the visible world, of which I have spoken above.752

Although he wrote in February 1829, that he had the “continuous will and resolution, with divine aid, to live and die single,” still he admitted that at times he felt the need of the interest and sympathy that only a wife can give: “Shall I ever have in my old age spiritual children who will take an interest such as a wife does?”753

Newman did not flaunt his personal choice of celibacy in the Anglican Church where clerical marriage was normal. In fact, he had few Anglican precedents for his ideal of celibacy; his theological sources are patristic, not Anglican.754 Although he had an unequivocal devotion to Our Lady as an Anglican,755 his thought on Christian virginity is centered more on Christ than on Mary. His Essay on the Development of Christian Doctrine, speaking of the “Virgin Life” in the early Church as an anticipation of its future growth throughout the history of the Church, linked virginity directly with Christ: “Tertullian speaks of being ‘married to Christ . . .’ Origen speaks of ‘devoting one’s body to God’ and St. Cyprian ‘of Christ’s Virgin, dedicated to Him and destined for His sanctity.’”756

As a Roman Catholic, Newman delivered an almost lyrical address on virginity on the occasion of the religious profession of Marianne Bowden, the daughter of one of his earliest friends. He linked virginity with, rather than opposed it to, the fulfillment of human love in marriage; human affection is not sacrificed, but transferred to Christ himself. “The Virginity of the Christian soul is a marriage with Christ. . . . And this it is to be married to Jesus. It is to have Him ours wholly, henceforth, and for ever—it is to be united to Him by an indissoluble tie—it is to be His, while He is ours.”757 For Newman, it was a positive choice that fundamentally oriented his life in a certain way, yet also a choice that entailed sacrifice. Celibacy is not an end in itself, not a “state of independence or isolation, or dreary pride, or barren indolence, or crushed affections.” Rather, “man is made for sympathy, for the interchange of love, for self-denial for the sake of another dearer to him than himself.”758

Manifesting his understanding of the pain and struggle that a celibate lifestyle can cause, Newman wrote to Thomas Godwin in 1854 because it seemed that Godwin’s life was becoming more and more self-centered: “You have one yoke upon you, and far from me be it to say that it is not in its nature to all of us a severe one. God’s grace does all things for us, as He has promised; and those whom He calls to a single life, He enables (blessed be His Name) to lead it in all purity and honesty.”759 However, most of Newman’s spiritual direction in his Letters concerning celibacy dealt with very concrete problems in the community.760 The incident which occasioned the most letters by Newman occurred in 1852, when Bernard Hennin, a lay brother, entertained a kind of “spiritual love” for Mrs. Wootten. He sought occasions for speaking with her alone, and on one occasion attempted to kiss her. In July 1852, he came to her sitting room and spoke about “spiritual love” in a way that alarmed her. Since she did not want to be the cause of his dismissal, she spoke to Nicholas Darnell about it. Eventually, the news reached Newman, who wrote a series of eight letters within a period of a month and a half.761

Third, since Newman wanted to develop a doctrine of perfection in a community without religious vows, a constituent principle of the Oratorian vocation was needed as a point of practical spirituality. For him, the whole question hinged on obedience as the backbone of community life: where there are no vows, there must still be obedience if the back of the body is not to be broken.762 He wanted an obedience which was the immediate result of a free, spontaneous charity. Following St. Philip, he encouraged voluntary obedience based on love and not on a vow. In fact; the precise point of contrast between Oratorians and both religious or seculars is their willing submission to the ascesis of community life as the great means of perfection. “I should prefer to treat the subject of obedience, which is the counsel of perfection incumbent on us, more as a matter of loving conformity to the will of the Congregation, to considering it as a necessary duty to be paid to Rule and to Superiors. And in this higher, more comprehensive, and more generous way of viewing it, it has sometimes been compared to that voluntary and loving obedience which the Eternal Son rendered to the Father in our flesh, when He came to do His will.”763 In sum, Newman’s understanding of obedience was three dimensional; obedience to the community, to the Rule, and to Superiors—an obedience patterned on Christ as the exemplar.

Voluntary obedience to the community was the special means of perfection for an Oratorian. “In other religious institutions obedience is directed to a Rule or to a vow, and the community is obeyed on that account; here obedience is paid to the community as a first principle; and hence it is both necessary to the Oratory from the nature of the case, and its peculiarity as distinguished from other Congregations. I shall consider then obedience to the Community as our special means of perfection.”764 To postpone one’s own desires, to mortify one’s private judgement and will in deference to the community was essential to Newman’s way of thinking. “As mortification of selfwill is the vital principle of the Oratory, so obedience is the essential and necessary means by which it is exercised. We are to mortify ourselves by obedience, that is, by submitting our own will to that of another.”765

Newman stressed this “unreserved obedience” to the community in a letter to Faber in 1850: “How can you trust a man’s perseverance, who is confessed not to have the principle of obedience in him? Till he gives up his will, till he relinquishes that nasty unphilippine jansenistic notion of ‘yielding an Oratorian obedience,’ (unreserved obedience to his community) I cannot trust him.”766 This “unreserved obedience” included both an internal and external dimension, what he called “an obedience of heart, spirit, and the razionale [sic], as well as of external conduct.”767 For this reason, he felt that it was essential that a community have a superior. In corresponding with Richard Stanton he stated: “And I am sure you require a head—then he will have the responsibility, and you the bond of obedience. You cannot be a real community without a resident head—and you are a real community all but it. At present you are neither one thing or the other.”768

Newman believed that obedience was the most difficult vow. In a letter to Mrs. J. W. Bowden, whose daughter Marianne was thinking of entering religious life, he explained: “The vow of obedience is the difficult vow. It is very complex—it is not merely obedience to one Superior, but to a state of things, resignation to companions she may not like, etc. etc.”769

Since St. Philip Neri “did not write a Rule, as St. Ignatius might write one,”770 but left what he had laid down for the experiment and judgment of the future, after his death, other decrees were gradually added. It was a collection of these decrees which tried to capture the genius, character, and customs of the Congregation which finally received papal approval. Because St. Philip “was most averse to rigid forms and burdensome externals,” and because “the Congregation has not been established upon the Rule, but the Rule established by the Congregation,” Newman felt “that what had been made since the Founder’s time could equitably be unmade.”771 Accordingly, with papal permission, Newman adapted the Rule and Oratorian life to contemporary English life. And although the Rule did not bind under sin, nevertheless a voluntary obedience to it was essential for each member.

In speaking of those to whom obedience is to be shown, Newman listed first of all “the Congregation itself . . . in its legislative capacity” as the highest law-making Body.772 Second, Newman wanted his fellow Oratorians to show a prompt obedience to all superiors in the Congregation as well as to each other in community and to do this “with the greatest cheerfulness.”773

Newman’s understanding of obedience was strongly influenced by Cardinal Tarugi’s book The Lives of the Companions of St. Philip Neri. In a letter to F. W. Faber, he quoted from the book:

As to your questions I think Tarugi’s instance is sufficient—“Know, holy Father,” he said to St. Philip, “that I am always and in all things entirely yours, and in this submission with your counsel and blessing I desire to live and die. I ask not to live either in Naples or in Rome, but I ask to live wherever you command me, even in a distant country if you should send me there.” “All the respect and subjection shown towards our holy Father Philip, must now be transferred to the new Father Superior, in whose person we must be careful to recognize the representative of the Almighty.”774

As Superior of the Oratory, Newman did not always feel comfortable in his position of authority. In a postscript to a letter written to Faber in 1849 Newman said: “It is true there are persons who can by their manner and bearing claim to be loved and obeyed; and so would solve the problem at once, I feel deeply that I have not that gift, and so far, am unfitted (as also in many other ways) to be a Superior.”775 Later that same year, in writing about some difficulties in the community in terms of obedience and authority he said: “I can’t command people about like so many soldiers or pieces of wood.”776

Newman felt that the will of God was manifest through his superiors; in 1865 writing to Mary Porter he said:

As you well know, a Catholic cannot expect to be prospered in any line of action which is not done under obedience.

Since I have been a Catholic, I have ever wished to follow the call of God, and considered that He calls us through those whom He puts over us . . .

When Dr. Wiseman the Vicar Apostolic in whose district Oxford lay, called me to Oscott on my conversion, I gave up Littlemore and went. When he sent me to Rome, I went. When he placed me in Birmingham, I obeyed him. Some years afterwards, when the Holy Father wished me to bring into existence the Catholic University of Ireland, I did that work diligently. Later still, when the Synod of Oscott, placed in my hands the charge of making a new translation of Scripture, I undertook it without a word.

Last summer my Bishop gave me the Mission of Oxford, and I complied with his wish at once, and began without any delay to buy ground and collect subscriptions for a Church there. There was no work which could promise better than this for the fulfillment of that object to which you would call me; but the will of Providence was otherwise.The plan was stopped by persons who did not wish it done, if I was to be the doer of it.

I am old now; but, did Providence open a way for any important work, which I felt I could prudently pursue, I hope I should not shrink from it.777

Newman realized that people who have problems with authority can disrupt a community and make the superior’s task more difficult. “They cannot bear, or at least some of them, the slightest exertion of authority,”778 he wrote to J. D. Dalgairns in 1854. Nevertheless, Newman realized the value of consultation and of collegiality. Frequently he would ask the opinions of others779 and after extensive dialogue, votes would be taken among the general Congregation on specific issues. He encouraged others to be involved in the decision-making process.780

Prayer

Newman’s teaching about prayer, which is primarily developed in his sermons, emerges as an important theme in his personal correspondence. It was a topic he wrote about often in his correspondence with both religious and laity.

Although Newman did not have to unlearn anything concerning prayer in his conversion from Anglicanism to Roman Catholicism, he did sense an expansion of possibilities in his new religion:

Again the effect of Catholic teaching concerning intention in prayer is so momentous, as to make a broad separation between the two religions. e.g. the Catholic believes that he can offer prayers which he does not hear, or which he does not understand, because He unites his intention with that of the person offering them. He says the Ave Maria with a certain intention, or he applies the virtue of it to the benefit of a certain person, perhaps departed. The difference is manifest externally. The Catholic Priest says his Mass as quickly as possible: The Protestant clergyman is slow and distinct, perhaps pompous or mouthing.781

Newman was convinced of the efficacy of the prayer of intercession, even though “we do not know how it is that prayer receives an answer from God at all.”782 As an acknowledgement of one’s creaturehood in relationship to God is the foundation of this prayer of petition and at the same time answers the objection that a person is unworthy of such favors. In 1868, Newman wrote to Henry Wilberforce:

God has given His friends a privilege—that of gaining favours from Him. A father says to his child going to school, “Now mind you write to me once a week.” And he rewards him in various ways, if he is obedient in this respect. We are God’s children—we are not grown men—Saints would worship God solely because He is God—”we all much love Him for Himself, but considering what we are, it is merciful that He has made hope, as well as faith and love, a theological virtue.” But this is but a poor and scanty exposure of a wonderful paradox.783

The mysterious paradox and privilege of intercessory prayer was an essential part of Newman’s spirituality and ministry. Parallel to his recommendation of praying for one another was Newman’s belief that we are being prayed for by the Communion of Saints. His sense of the unseen world and the reality of the intercession of the Saints was an important factor in his teaching on prayer. He wrote to Mrs. William Froude in 1848: “To know too that you are in the Communion of Saints—to know that you have cast your lot among all the Blessed Saints of God who are the choice fruit of His Passion—that you have their intercession on high—that you may address them—and above all the Glorious Mother of God, what thoughts can be greater than these.”784

Immediately after his becoming a Roman Catholic, Newman began, and he advised other converts, to pray for the enlightenment of mutual friends. He urged Miss Giberne: “And now, My dear Miss G., that you have the power, pray, begin your intercessions very earnestly (though I need not say it) for those dear friends of mine, or ours, who are still held back, or rather imprisoned in their old error, and that by their own good feelings and amiable affections.”785 In a similar vein, he encouraged Ambrose St. John to pray for more conversions: “I think we shall have a haul of conversions after Lent, but do not repeat it. I would suggest the propriety of our having some prayers through Lent on the subject.”786 He likewise urged prospective converts to pray God “gravely and continually . . . [to] be taught His Will.”787

The Oratorians maintained a private prayer list to which Newman added intentions as different needs came to his attention. He promised prayers and ask others to pray for those who were sick, and sometimes saw a connection between prayer and improved health. Concerning the pleurisy of Henry Bittleston, he wrote: “I think he is kept alive by prayers, and that, when the hands of Moses get tired and fall then he relapses.”788 He wrote to J. D. Dalgairns about F. W. Faber’s sickness in 1861: “I am quite sure that his illness has been supported, and his recovery brought about, by means of the many prayers which he has earned from those to whose souls he has been of service.”789

Yet Newman was prepared to accept the fact that sometimes restored health is not the will of God; and, with peaceful resignation, he encouraged others to a similar acceptance. When his close friend James Hope-Scott lay gravely ill, Newman wrote to the Duke of Norfolk: “I am writing as if I gave up hope—but of course we go on praying for a respite, nay a recovery—but how can we know what is best for him and for his? He is in better hands than ours. He who made him what he is, loves him more than we can love him. And as He cares for him, so He cares for all his also.”790 Similarly, during the fatal illness of his beloved fellow Oratorian Ambrose St. John, Newman confided to Mrs. Henry Wilberforce: “I can only say, ‘Lord, he whom thou lovest, is sick’ (John 11:3) and leave the event to him. I seem as if grief would kill me—but I cannot get beyond leaving the event to God. He knows what I wish, but why should I make any petition, when He knows what is good for us all? . . . Yet God will be good to us, and all things will turn out well, if we do but go right forward.”791 Subsequently after the death of Ambrose St. John, a letter to Mother Mary Imelda Poole provides eloquent testimony to Newman’s grateful acceptance of Divine Providence: “I thank God for having given him to me for so long. I thank Him for taking him away, when there was a chance for him of a living death. I thank Him for having given me this warning to make haste and prepare myself for His coming.”792

Anything of serious consequence in his own life and ministry was presented to God by Newman in his prayer.793 When he was first trying to discern his vocation, he requested the prayers of Mother Makrena in Rome.794 When the question arose of how to divide the membership between the two Oratories at Birmingham and at London, Newman asked for prayers for the gift of discernment. He commended his involvement in the Catholic University in Dublin to the prayers of his friends and acquaintances. He prayed and advised others to pray during the ordeal of the Achilli trial. In founding and directing the Oratory school and in his efforts to establish an Oratory at Oxford, he likewise depended on the strength gained from prayer.

Newman did not hesitate to ask his friends to pray for his personal needs. There are numerous references in his correspondence requesting prayers for spiritual gifts, such as wisdom and peace, as well as physical gifts, such as good health and strength. When Mrs. Wilson wrote that she was not going to pray for him any longer, Newman replied: “One thing in your letter, however, I cannot bear at all—and that is your saying that you cannot and will not pray for me. I value your prayers very much, and I will not allow you, without my making a strong protest, to take such a despairing tone. I know God loves you, and wishes you to avail yourself of His love—and you must co-operate with Him in His merciful and great purpose on your behalf.”795

This relationship between prayer and life was addressed directly in 1850 when Faber wrote to Newman, complaining of Dalgairn’s unwillingness to be “called upon for community sympathies. Why is it, Padre mio, that men get more selfish the more they pray? Is it a stage like irritability in fasting?”796 With unusual insight Newman replied: “As to prayer, it has two effects an acquired habit, and grace; and the acquired habit is often the stronger. The tendency of any one habit is to oppose others, or certainly contrary ones. Thus prayer as an acquired habit, becomes selfish, there’s a great decision! It falls in with your parallel about irritability.”797

There seems to be only one recorded instance when Newman refused to accept the prayers of another, and that was because he considered them misdirected in their motivation.798

For his part, Newman was always grateful for his benefactors and those who responded to him in his need. For example, he wrote to Eleanor Bretherton: “May all the kind thoughts, which you have for me, return upon your own head and into your own heart abundantly—and be a sort of stock of blessing for you all through life, in all trials and troubles, which you cannot now anticipate, and I shall never see.”799

Newman also manifested in his correspondence his belief in the fact that God answers persevering prayer. The answer may not always be in conformity with the petitioner’s expectations, but the answer will ultimately be for the person’s good.

It is no want of faith in you to put yourself simply into the hands of our dear Lord, that He may do with you what He will. He must not be supposed to turn a deaf ear to prayer, because he answers it in His own way. It is impossible that a blessing should not come to you in consequence of so many prayers made for you—and if He does not give the very favour asked for, it is because He has it in purpose to give you a greater. Any how, you are His—and prayer will make you more fully His.800

When Mrs. Lockhart told Newman that some of her relatives had recently been accepted into the Catholic Church, he counseled her to be thankful to God for answering her persevering prayer. “It is indeed a great instance, for which we cannot be too thankful, how God answers persevering prayer.”801 Even when the person was mistaken in the intended object of his prayer, Newman was confident that God would answer such kind prayers “by a true interpretation of them.”802

Finally, although Newman prayed a great deal, preached about prayer and directed others in prayer, he rarely wrote about the “way” he prayed or the “method” he used in meditation. However, there is one letter, written in 1865, to Miss M. R. Giberne (by then Sister M. Pia) in response to a question she had asked concerning meditation. In this letter Newman shared his own personal struggle along with his realization of the need for adapting one’s prayer to changing age.

If I have not written in answer to any question of yours about yourself, it was because I did not observe it, because I fancied you had sufficient advice where you are, and because I am so little fitted to give it. What you say of your own difficulty in meditation, is quite what I should say of myself, if that is any comfort to you. I think the mind is weakened as one gets old, and cannot hold an idea any more than the muscles can hold a heavy weight. And then again, as the eyes get dim and the hearing dull, so in like manner the affections do not act in sensible emotions as they do when people are young. All this is very painful, and unsatisfactory—but I trust it is not a sign of falling back. What I try to do is to live more in the sight of God, and to try to be acting to His glory. But you must pray for me that I may not get into a bad way—and that I may not do anything that may mislead you.803

Penance

Another area of the spiritual life in which Newman directed others was that of penance. As an Oratorian, Newman was greatly influenced by St. Philip Neri, who maintained that mortification of the razionale was what mattered most—the submission of our own opinions to the will of God. Physical discipline of any kind should be a means to mental discipline.804

Specifically, Newman believed that the greatest mortification was to do well the ordinary duties of the day.805 When George Ryder, a layman, wrote to Newman asking his advice as to whether he should do some penance, Newman replied: “I would not have you go to any mortifications. I will tell you what is the greatest—viz. to do well the ordinary duties of the day. Determine to rise at a certain hour—to go through certain devotions—to give certain hours to your boys—Don’t oppress yourself with them, but keep to your rules—and you will find it a sufficient trial.”806

Newman found ample opportunity for mortification in fulfilling the duties within his community. For example, reflecting on the anxiety occasioned by the Oratory School, he wrote Robert Ornsby: “For ourselves here, of course the School is a perpetual anxiety, though we have been abundantly blessed in our endeavours—but it is a hair shirt, and nothing short of it—and one which you can never put off. May we be able to offer it up to God worthily, and gain merit from it.”807

Similarly, in 1869, Newman characterized his brief tenure as editor of the Rambler as a mortification that he only accepted because he thought it was God’s will. Sharing his feelings with his friend Henry Wilberforce, he wrote: “I have the extreme mortification of being Editor of The Rambler. I have never had in my life (in its time) so great a one. It is like a bad dream, and oppresses me at times inconceivably.”808

Newman believed in the value of fasting as a means of spiritual growth yet always emphasized the importance of prudence. If a person was able and felt called to fasting or abstinence, and if this did not interfere with their other primary responsibilities in life, Newman would accede to their desire. To Mrs. Peter Bretherton he wrote:

As to your fasting, I fear it will interfere with your keeping your Rule. You will feel tired, and unable to go to Mass, or to attend when hearing it. Again, you have so much to sadden and depress you—and fasting may prevent your bearing up against such trials, and having the physical strength to go through them. But these two conditions being clearly kept in view, I mean, that fasting does not weaken your observance of your Rule and your care of your husband, I do not mind your trying it. But you must be quite honest, watch the effect—and use the full liberty which the Church allows you.809

Sometimes people wrote to him wanting to fast, but because of their age, health, travel, or other labors, he felt it would be better if they did not; at other times, he would suggest that they do some other kind of penance. With people who tended to want to do too much, he would gently advise them to be good to themselves. To W. J. Copeland he said: “Now, you are not indeed as old as I am, but you are old enough, not to be able to keep a strict Lent—and, since such fellows as you judge for yourselves, and not by good advice, I am tempted to preach to you, and beg you to be very gentle with yourself—for I want you to live many years, and never, never again to be so cruel to me as you were for near 17 long years.”810

Since taking the discipline was part of the Oratorian rule, Newman originally pressed for its implementation for Oratorians in England over the objections of Faber.811 Yet Newman realized that it was not a helpful practice for everyone; again prudence ought to be the practical guide. For other religious, he thought that they should follow the tradition of their community with regard to this practice, and for laymen he did not press it.

Summary

Throughout his Catholic years, Newman had many opportunities for directing people on matters relating to vocation and religious life. His direction of others was to a great extent colored by his Anglican background, his own vocational search culminating in his decision to be an Oratorian, and his emphasis on personal responsibility in the spiritual life.

Foundational to his concept of spiritual direction was “striving for perfection.” His understanding, both theological and practical, of this “striving” was developed in his Oratorian addresses, and subsequently manifested in his correspondence. His letters “translated” what “striving for perfection” should mean for people in different vocational situations. His letters were practical not theoretical: their aim was to encourage people to strive for perfection (whether they were “religious” or not) in their daily life. Although a clear method of discernment does not emerge from his correspondence, Newman did mention such factors as never rushing one’s process of discernment and decision and asking the advice of others, as well as prayer and penance. Favoring personal responsibility rather than universal rules, Newman helped many people to discern God’s will in choosing a vocation or in living out the implications of their vocation.

Newman’s chapter addresses and correspondence indicates his belief that an English Oratory should be very much like an Oxford college whose members are “English gentlemen.” Through personal influence, he wanted the Oratory to be an effective instrument of faith within society. While not neglecting to serve the poor, the primary ministerial emphasis was to the upper class. In order to minister to their needs, Newman encouraged the Oratorians in their scientific, artistic and literary endeavors.

In regard to the Oratory as “santa communita,” Newman believed that faith must be the basis for the charity necessary to live in community. While this ability is a supernatural gift, human affection is the underlying principle, while voluntary obedience cements community. Since he believed that personal qualities would greatly influence their ministry, he exhorted the Oratorians to develop affection and obedience as essential in living their way of life. Accordingly, Newman favored small communities comprised of a select group of people, whose basis was not simply personal liking or ministerial compatibility, but rather charity, obedience and intellectual agreement.

Although Oratorians were not religious in the strict sense, Newman frequently directed others to follow the evangelical counsels. Because the Oratorian vocation did not entail the obligation of poverty, Newman rarely wrote about it. Second, although he felt a call early in his life to live celibately, he came to see that it was a positive choice that fundamentally oriented his life in a certain way, as well as a choice that involved sacrifice. Because he believed that people were made for an “interchange of love,” celibacy was not an end in itself, but rather the transferring of human love to Christ. Third, he coupled obedience with mortification, seeing obedience as the backbone of community life. However, in his desire to delineate a spirituality for secular priests living in community without vows, he seemed to establish a false dichotomy between “vowed” and “voluntary” obedience. Last but not least, two particularly important aspects of the spiritual life for Newman are prayer and penance. However, his approach in these areas was more pastoral than theological; he desired to help correspondents understand the importance of prayer and penance in their spiritual lives.

637. Newman, “Perfection for Oratorians,” December 11, 1850, in Newman the Oratorian.

638. JHN to Mrs. J. W. Bowden, 13 January 1847, in LD 12:12: “My vocation is not yet clear to me.”

639. Ward, Life, 1:17.

640. Much of Newman’s thought concerning religious life and his vocational choice are contained in his Oratory Papers, found in Newman the Oratorian, 133–467. These Oratory Papers are extremely valuable for understanding his thought concerning religious life because most of them are Chapter Addresses given to the Oratorians along with some “Extracts” dealing with specific facets of Oratorian life. For Newman’s personal account of his decision to become an Oratorian, see “Memorandum,” in Newman the Oratorian, June 9, 1848, 434–43.

641. Newman actually considered joining four different communities: the Dominicans, Jesuits, Vincentians, and Redemptorists.

642. JHN to J. D. Dalgairns, 31 December 1846, in LD 11:306.

643. Ibid. See also Autobiographical Writings, 127: “God still has work for me to do.”

644. JHN to Miss Giberne, 22 January 1846, in LD 11:96. “As you say ‘one step enough for me’—let us hope and believe that the Most Merciful Hand, which has guided us hitherto, will guide us still and that we shall one and all, you as well as I and my Littlemore inmates, may all find our vocation happily. We are called into God’s Church for something not for nothing, surely. Let us wait and be cheerful, and be sure that good is destined for us, and that we are to be made useful.”

645. JHN to Ambrose St. John, 12 July 1848, in LD 12:243.

646 JHN to Bishop Wiseman, 17 January 1847, in LD 12:19–20. Newman wrote: “It is curious and very pleasant that, after all the thought we can give the matter, we come round to your Lordship’s original idea, and feel we cannot do better than be Oratorians.”

647. Dessain, John Henry Newman, 92. See also JHN to Lady Georgiana Fullerton, 27 July 1853, in LD 31 Supplement:38.

648. JHN to Mrs. John Mozley, 26 January 1847, in LD 12:25. Newman also described his attraction to St. Philip Neri in his book Idea of a University, 236: “He would be but an ordinary individual priest as others: and his weapons should be but unaffected humility and unpretending love. All he did was to be done by the light, and fervour, and convincing eloquence of his personal character and his easy conversation.”

649. Newman, “Memorandum,” in Newman the Oratorian, 437.

650. The “Santa Croce Papers” are important for understanding Newman’s concept of the Oratorian vocation and religious life. More systematic and documented than anything he wrote or said about the Oratory in later years, these papers are Newman’s own body of Oratorian precedents and principles.

651. Newman, “Remarks on the Oratorian Vocation,” August 18, 1856, in Newman the Oratorian, 315.

652. Newman, “Santa Croce,” August-September 1847, in Newman the Oratorian, 398–99.

653. Newman, “Remarks on the Oratorian Vocation,” August 18, 1856, in Newman the Oratorian, 315.

654. Newman, “Santa Croce,” August-September 1847, in Newman the Oratorian, 401–3.

655. JHN to J. D. Dalgairns, 7 June 1854, in LD 16:150.

656. Newman, “Perfection,” December 11, 1850, in Newman the Oratorian, 232–35.

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