In the nineteenth century, tensions were acutely felt in religious controversies, such as the Protestant emphasis on sola scriptura, which often privileged individual interpretation over ecclesial tradition, and emerging Catholic debates over historical-critical methods, as exemplified by figures like Alfred Loisy and the Modernist Crisis. John Henry Newman navigated similar turbulent waters as an Anglican convert to Catholicism, developed an implicit pneumatological hermeneutics that positioned the Holy Spirit as the vital guide for both personal and communal engagement with the biblical text.
Imagine a candlestick resting on a table in the corner of a dark room, whose flame does not fade, does not flicker, and does not burn out, but perpetually illuminates the corner and draws others towards its light. This everlasting flame is like a teaching of a Doctor of the Universal Church, seeking not to illumine the entirety of the dark room, but keeps the corner of the room illuminated. Similarly, the teachings of the Church Doctors illumine some component(s) of the mysteries of the Catholic faith without trying to plumb the entirety of the mystery of God.
Most clergy, Christian educators, and parents are aware of the challenges facing evangelization and catechesis in our world today. The rise of secularism has left many Christians with an inadequate understanding of who God is and how God relates to us. Scientism and materialism have limited the scope of our worldview to exclude the divine, and therefore the anthropology for many in today’s world does not account for the God-human relationship.
Newman, as an Anglican, had a high Mariology (for an Anglican, a surprisingly high Mariology), yet he also combined his reverence for Mary with some kind of caution or warning that such notions could lead to doctrines and practices that were not sanctioned by the Church of England. In reality, that caution (or warning) was both a message by Newman to his congregation and a message to himself—to a conscience that was beginning to doubt the veracity of his own ideas.
Compared to my usual diet of scholarly articles and books, Newman’s writings stood out for what appeared to me as their meandering character. Unlike most contemporary works, Newman does not state upfront what he is going to say and then take the reader through the motions of a demonstration delivered blow by blow. He begins, instead, with a puzzle, or a question, that he brings before his audience; he unfolds his thinking slowly, almost searchingly, from his initial questions; he also frequently refrains from tying up his argument, leaving whatever he said simply to “air” with the reader.
When the Pope beatified Newman in 2010, he traveled to the United Kingdom to honor the “saintly Englishman” from whom he had learned numerous invaluable lessons. In his sermon for the occasion, the Pope exclaimed, “in Blessed John Henry, that tradition of gentle scholarship, deep human wisdom and profound love for the Lord has borne rich fruit.” It is in this scholarly yet prayerful pursuit of the truth that Ratzinger found a fellow friend in Newman.
