Introduction
Introduction
In a society strongly influenced by science and technology, in a culture sensitive to the insights of psychology and personalist philosophy, in a Church seeking constant renewal in the spirit of the Gospel, the concern of Christians for living a spiritual life, for deepening their relationship with God and others takes on new dimensions. Spirituality is not simply an abstract area of life reserved for the elite, but rather something which touches the life of every Christian. Living a spiritual life in an active and dynamic way touches a person’s fundamental attitudes and actions of life; it seeks to know how to live in order to be open to God and others.
John Henry Newman (1801–1890) was a man who sought to integrate life and holiness. He believed that the spiritual life had to be established on God’s word and a strong doctrinal foundation. He did not want to separate devotion from life. From the Greek Fathers of the early church, Newman inherited a sense of the Divine Economy, and he recognized the complimentarity between the teachings of Scripture and the theological tradition of the Church. In our own times, he has rightfully been seen as a prophet of progress in various areas of theology: authority in the Church, role of the laity, ecumenism, development of doctrine, religious freedom, and Christian education.2 During his life, he experienced misunderstanding and suspicion from his superiors for many years, but remained steadfast in his pursuit of truth and loyalty to the Church. What was the secret of his strength? By examining his life, it can be seen that his source of strength was his spiritual relationship with God.
Newman’s spiritual life was fundamentally shaped as an Anglican through the Bible, by the Daily Offices and Eucharist of the Book of Common Prayer, by various English devotional writers, as well as by the personal influence of some of his contemporaries. Very early in his life, Newman was greatly impressed by Walter Mayers,3 who continually stressed the Christian’s call to holiness and the necessity of a living and genuine faith. This sense of call, coupled with his deep pastoral concern both as an Anglican and Catholic priest, led Newman to not only strive for sanctity in his own life, but constantly to encourage and direct others in their efforts.
Although Newman rejected the title of spiritual director as such, it is obvious to anyone who reads his correspondence that directing others through various facets of the Christian life is one of his dominant concerns. Surprisingly, comparatively little has been written about Newman’s idea of spiritual direction. The purpose of this book is to investigate Newman’s understanding of spiritual direction during his life as a Catholic (1845–1890). It examines the major areas in which Newman gave spiritual direction through an analysis of the correspondence from his Catholic years. It also explicitates those principles of Newman’s own spiritual life which found expression in his direction of others. Finally, it complements previous studies on Newman’s spirituality and makes available recently published materials pertaining to Newman’s understanding of the spiritual life.4
Newman’s Catholic years have been chosen for this study. It is important not only to uncover the major areas of the Christian life in which Newman gave direction, but also to trace the continuity of his direction in various areas of Christian life. Moreover, a consideration of his entire Catholic period necessarily includes the major events which affected his thinking and which could have possible implications not only for his own life, but also for his direction of others.
Newman’s Letters and Diaries have been edited and published in a series of thirty-two volumes, embracing more than twenty thousand letters.5 The first ten volumes deal with Newman’s Anglican period; the remaining volumes, which cover his Catholic period, are the primary source for this book, and have been studied chronologically in order to determine and extract the major areas in which Newman gave spiritual direction to others, and to investigate the stages of development in his spiritual advice.
Newman himself supplied the justification for this method. Writing to his sister Jemima in 1863, he said:
It has ever been a hobby of mine (unless it be a truism, not a hobby) that a man’s life lies in his letters. This is why Hurrell Froude published St. Thomas A. Beckett’s Letters, with nothing of his own except what was necessary for illustration or connection of parts. A much higher desideratum than interest in Biography is met by the method, (as it may be called), of Correspondence. Biographers varnish; they assign motives; they conjecture feelings; they interpret Lord Burleigh’s nods; they palliate or defend. For myself, I sincerely wish to seem neither better nor worse than I am.6
Nine years later, after receiving a copy of John Bowden’s life of Frederick Faber, Newman again stated his preference for this method: “Thank you for your copy of Fr. Faber’s life. As far as I have as yet made myself acquainted with it, it seems drawn up with great skill and judgment. I am very glad you have adopted the method, which, as far as it is possible, is in my opinion the true mode of biography—I mean carrying on the course of the narrative by letters.”7
Again, in 1872, considering the possibility of his own biography being written, he stated in a memorandum:
I don’t wish my life written—because there is so little to say. This is the case with most Lives—and in consequence the writers are forced to pad—and then readers are both disappointed at the meagerness of the composition, and angry with the padding . . .
It may be said that, if friends do not write a life, strangers, who know nothing about me, will be sure to do it instead. I think this risk may be avoided by publishing private papers, memoranda, letters of mine, in a volume or two, with a memoir of four pages or so, to introduce them.8
Besides his recommendation that the use of correspondence is the best vehicle for presenting a person’s life and thought, Newman provided another justification. Although he was a prolific writer, with ease and grace of expression, he noted more than once that he could only write “on call,” that is to say, when some pressing question elicited his efforts. He wrote to Robert Whitty in 1865 saying: “I cannot write by wishing, I can only write when power is given me to write.”9 The previous year he had explained to Canon Walker, “Then again I never can write well, without a definite call.”10 His letters are responses to “calls” par excellence. Various people wrote to him about many aspects of spirituality, and they elicited some of his best and clearest thinking.
Newman had a mammoth “apostolate of correspondence.” When compared to his books, his opinions in a particular letter are more fragmentary, because he is responding to questions a correspondent was posing; and only rarely did he elaborate beyond it. At the same time, his range of opinions in his letters is wider than in his published works, and this fragmentary quality tends to vanish when one surveys the entire spectrum of his correspondence. A fuller vision emerges, and in the course of many years, a composite sketch of particular aspects of his spirituality emerges from his correspondence as well as the areas in which he directed others.
Today it is rather difficult to appreciate this vast quantity of correspondence in an age of computers, smart phones, and social media when so many business transactions and exchange of opinions happens almost instantaneously. The record of a person’s opinions vanishes with the voice. Correspondence and memos, admittedly, continue to be useful, but people in the twenty-first century are not tied down to the written word as much as their nineteenth-century counterparts. A century ago, much more discussion and evolution of ideas unfolded through the post office; distance and separation were overcome with a stamp. People, then, were prodigious letter writers; they approached it as a literary form. Drafts and double drafts were made, copies of the autograph retained, return of letters requested. In a note to W. G.Ward, at the time of the condemnation of the Home and Foreign Review, Newman indicated the role of letters during a controversy. “I enclose my letter to the Bishop, and a copy of his answer, as far as it bears on my immediate subject. My letter as you will see, differs from what you saw, more by what it leaves out than by what it puts in. Do not fear I should show your letter to me to the Bishop. I wished to keep it for my own edification. However, as you seem to wish it, I have burned it.”11
Other reasons recommend the use of Newman’s correspondence. Foremost is the candor one finds there. When he was writing to friends, he could afford to speak bluntly and express opinions unguardedly. When writing books, he was always conscious of writing “under the lash,” knowing that antagonists would scrutinize every turn of phrase. As he wrote to Henry Wilberforce in 1868, he explained: “I know any how, that, however honest are my thoughts, and earnest my endeavours to keep rigidly within the lines of Catholic doctrine, every word I publish will be malevolently scrutinized, and every expression which can possibly be perverted sent straight to Rome,—that I shall be fighting under the lash, which does not tend to produce vigorous efforts in the battle or to inspire either courage or presence of mind.”12 His books, then, are carefully nuanced, and while this has great advantages certainly, there is also much to be said for the frankness of a letter written to a friend. “No one can write without making mistakes—I don’t doubt I have made some, though I hope not great ones. If a man waited till he could write without any mistakes, he would not write at all. There is in every man’s work matter which may be taken up for hostile criticism, if readers are so minded. But I have done my best, and have all along trusted I should be judged by my good intention and the substance of what I have written, and not by what comes of human infirmity and imperfection.”13
Another reason why Newman’s letters are important is because there is an added richness to his thought due to the diversity of persons with whom he corresponded. Newman wrote letters to leading political figures, high ecclesiastics, intellectuals, prominent Europeans. People like Faber and Manning thought he was isolating himself in a midland town. But the correspondence, to and from Birmingham, reflected all the currents of theological thought. One special group must be mentioned, the laity. After reading through thousands of his letters, one becomes acutely aware of the prominence the laity held in Newman’s mind and of the influence he exercised in their lives. When he was attacked by E. R. Martin in the Weekly Register as being untrusted in Rome, several hundred leading laymen of England promptly signed a petition saying that every blow touching Newman inflicted a wound on the English Church.14 Newman championed the laity, and through his correspondence he was never out of contact with them. Accordingly, Newman was constantly forced to apply his theology and spirituality to the real world—to the lives of individual people. For example, the “common person” is prominent in his letters. Just after the First Vatican Council (1869–1870), letters poured in from ordinary people, confused by the recent events in Rome. With delicate pastoral understanding, Newman directed them to grasp the meaning and implications of infallibility.
Newman’s letters, besides their candor and richness, also fill lacunae. Since Newman wrote his books and lectures “on call,” if there was no call, he was publicly silent. The basis for his judging “a call,” to be present rested not only on the importance of the issue; it also depended on the expedience and prudence of coming out in print. This sometimes caused great consternation to friends who wished him to speak out. For example, after a long silence following the Rambler incident,15 he wrote to one close friend at the time of the Apologia: “As to my writing more, speaking in confidence, I do not know how to do it. One cannot speak ten words without ten objections being made to each.”16 It was during publication gaps like this, however, that the letters prove of such value. Although he might be publicly silent, in private correspondence he expressed himself often and eloquently. The letters offer a wide range of commentary when books and public lectures are lacking. Most of all, one comes closer to the real man in the letters. What Newman called the “charm of reality” was one of the reasons why he liked the early Fathers:
Letters always have the charm of reality. I have before now given this as the reason why I like the early Fathers more than the Medieval Saints viz: because we have the letters of the former. I seem to know St. Chrysostom or St. Jerome in a way in which I never can know St. Thomas Aquinas – and St. Thomas of Canterbury (himself medieval) on account of his letters as I never can know St. Pius Vth. There is something always to be gained by the sight of a religious man, as he is—whether he be in partial error, or on the other hand a Doctor of the Church.17
Newman always insisted that it is the whole person who thinks, not just an intellect. His letters show the moods in which he was thinking as well as portray his immediate reaction to issues, as contrasted with more reflective reactions which slowly evolved. While much of the profit drawn from this approach to the letters is of interest to the biographer, it is not without value for discovering Newman the theologian and spiritual director.
This last consideration suggested what is both an asset and a limitation to a “method of correspondence.” The asset is that Newman’s thinking is seen within concrete issues. In one sense, his spirituality, and therefore his spiritual direction has to be extracted from the concrete circumstances of his letters. It is not present in modo theologico (as a theological method). People are present. Events are present. Newman was seen looking at what was happening, and he theologized about the events. In uncovering his spiritual direction, it has been necessary to consider all his letters and extract the principles of spirituality operative behind them. There are partial views in each letter. The asset is that the correspondence makes one aware of the problem he was addressing. The concreteness of the letters brings a clarity; the problems were the problems of people. Each letter to Newman was “a call.” Each response was from a pastor first, a theologian second.
The limitation in considering his letters is their sheer volume. The letters contain no systematic presentation of Newman’s spiritual direction. However, through reading his correspondence, certain themes emerge as constant areas of the Christian life in which Newman consistently directed others.
It is the purpose of this book to delineate the spiritual direction of Newman during his Roman Catholic years as contained in his personal correspondence. Believing that one’s spiritual direction is based on one’s own perception of spirituality, the first two chapters are foundational in nature. There are many fine biographies of Newman, and rather than simply repeat what is contained there, the first chapter in this book hopes to build on these by exploring the various factors which contributed to the development of Newman’s spiritual life. Seeing how he reacted to and was influenced by certain critical events is important because these show how he attempted to integrate his understanding of spirituality with life. Because Newman entered the Roman Catholic Church when he was forty-four years old, after serving as an Anglican priest for twenty years, his spiritual life and theological outlook had already been largely determined. Accordingly, chapter 2 will investigate the origins and characteristics of Newman’s spirituality, along with his understanding of its relationship to theology.
The five core chapters examine the major areas of the Christian life in which Newman directed others. Because of certain experiences, Newman became rooted in the belief of the Providence of God. Chapter 3, then, investigates this unifying aspect of his own spiritual life, and the way that this belief constantly found expression in his direction of others. Faith is at the heart of spiritual direction. In fact, the way one understands faith implicitly underlies the way one would direct another; accordingly, chapter 4 explores Newman’s understanding of faith and the methods he employed to help others receive this gift and to grow in their faith. Chapter 5 treats the way that Newman directed others to recognize the Catholic Church; from a theological perspective, Newman’s conversion was an ecclesiological decision, and while he never wrote a systematic ecclesiology, ideas on the Church permeate his thought and were the bulwark of much of his spiritual direction. His own conversion placed him in a unique position to direct others in understanding both the nature of the Church and many facets of Church life.
It would be difficult to exaggerate the importance of Newman’s vocation as an Oratorian, which provided the framework for the rest of his long life and was the source of some of his cruelest trials. Since it was through the Oratory that his understanding of religious life deepened, chapter 6 investigates Newman’s thinking and direction of others concerning vocation and religious life. Finally, chapter 7 on friendship offers a unique opportunity to see the humanness of Newman. His personal correspondence portrays him not merely as a writer, a person to be admired, and a religious leader, but simply as a human being with human needs. It is from his letters that one can see the importance of friendship in Newman’s spiritual development and the part that it played in his spiritual direction.
In each chapter, the focus is twofold; first, content—what did Newman believe about a particular issue; and second, method—how did he direct others? To avoid Newman’s own stricture about a biographer “varnishing” one’s subject, an attempt has been made to allow Newman to speak for himself as much as possible. This is important in view of the fact that this book is intended to make available to others a wealth of Newman materials on spirituality, many of which have not previously been examined. Finally, this approach provides Newman with the opportunity of implementing what he told W. G. Ward was the “motive-cause” for all his writing: “the sight of a truth and the desire to show it to others.”18
2. Kelly, “Newman, Vatican I and II,” 293. “Bishop Robert Dwyer described Newman as the ‘absent Council Father’ of Vatican II, since he was cited there more frequently than any other authority, including St. Thomas!”
3. There is a biographical appendix at the end of this book containing pertinent information about persons whose names appear in this book.
4. Some of the literature on Newman’s spirituality is listed in the bibliography.
5. Rev. Charles Stephen Dessain of the Birmingham Oratory, who died May 31, 1976, initiated this project. With the publication of volume 32 in 2009, the twenty-two volumes of Newman’s Catholic correspondence have been completed. Newman’s Letters and Diaries will be referred to throughout this book as LD.
6. JHN to Mrs. John Mozley, 18 May 1863, in LD 20:443.
7. JHN to John Bowden, 19 June 1869, in LD 24:271.
8. JHN, Memorandum on Future Biography, 15 November 1872, in LD 26:200–201. Moreover, in considering the question of his own biography in the Autobiographical Writings, the editor Henry Tristram noted: “It was his settled opinion, expressed not once, but frequently, not to a single individual, but to several independently of one another, that his personal history should be narrated through the medium of his letters.” Newman, Autobiographical Writings, 23.
9. JHN to Robert Whitty, 25 September 1865, in LD 22:61. Newman drafted this letter but did not send it.
10. JHN to J. Walker of Scarborough, 5 August 1864, in LD 21:185.
11. JHN to W. G. Ward, 3 January 1863, in LD 20:284. In the opinion of Newman’s literary executors, almost all of the Cardinal’s correspondence has been tracked down. Only one instance is known of someone purposely destroying a letter of Newman’s in the interest of his reputation, and even here its contents have been surmised. William Monsell, Lord Emly, burned a letter in the presence of Mr. and Mrs. Wilfrid Ward which detailed Newman’s involvement in the Rambler affair. This incident, and the whole task of assembling Newman’s correspondence, is recounted by Dessain in the introduction to the multivolume series; See LD 11:xv–xxiii.
12. JHN to Henry Wilberforce, 12 August 1868, in LD 24:120.
13. JHN to Unknown Correspondent, 13 March 1866, in LD 22:181.
14. Trevor, Newman: Light, 39.
15. The reasons for Newman’s silence from 1859 to 1864 were most serious. However, the following letter, written in a light vein to fellow Oratorian William Neville, explains in a humorous way why he is not writing: “You may send the following ‘Heads of a Discourse’ to Patterson.
For Patterson
Seven Reasons for not writing more books.
I do no write
Because, in matters of controversy, I am a miles emeritus, rude donatus.
Because no one serves on Parliamentary Committees after he is 60.
Because Rigaud’s steam engine which was hard to start, was hard to stop.
Because Hannibal’s elephants never could learn the goose step.
Because Garibaldi’s chaplains in ordinary never do write.
Because books that do not sell do not pay the printing.
Because just now I am teaching little boys nonsense verses.” See JHN to William Neville, 27 March 1862, in LD 20:178.
16. JHN to James Hope-Scott, 6 July 1864, in LD 21:144.
17. JHN to Mrs. Sconce, 15 October 1865, in LD 22:73–74.
18. JHN to W. G. Ward, 15 March 1862, in LD 20:169.