| Catholicity (vs.
Evangelicalism and Liberalism)
Newman distrusted the Evangelical experience, in
part because he had had one himself. In the summer of 1816 at age fifteen,
Newman underwent an Evangelical-style conversion, and for the next
eight-years was influenced by Evangelical, and in particular Calvinistic,
thought. He came to reject this understanding, putting more emphasis on
the daily transformation of parishioners rather than sudden conversion.
Evangelicalism, he came to believe, promoted unhealthy emotional
obsessions rather than gradual transformative habits and virtues.
Justifying faith must be nurtured by real, consistent works. Feelings are
intended by God to cause us to act, not to be a way of assessing our
spiritual state. A firm determined calmness is more important than violent
swings of emotion because they later makes the self rather than God the
center of one's spiritual search. Positive self-knowledge is good, but it
must arise out of habits of living and responding, which are often
difficult to establish especially if one begins life with forming sinful
habits in the opposite direction. Self-deception can arise as often from
the confession of sin as from the denial of it, for we substitute an
emotional confession for real repentance and amendment of life.
Justification in Newman's thinking not only declares someone righteous it
works to make them so. Its very popularity in early Victorian England for
Newman was a potential sign of Evangelicalism's deceptive possibilities,
attracting followers to an emotional experience without the hard way of
the cross. Newman recognized that Evangelicalism in the eighteenth century
had begun with strong theological moorings and often produced people of
real moral character, but he came to believe (rightly or wrongly) that
Evangelicalism had devolved into a 'religion of the heart" with less
and less solid doctrinal definition. In that sense, Evangelicalism was not
unlike the Liberalism he distrusted even more.
Newman rejected Liberalism as an ecclesial,
political, and pedagogical movement, though he had been briefly under its
sway his first few years at Oriel College. He saw it as subjecting the truths of
divine revelation to human judgment, thereby violating a basic truth--that
humans cannot sit in judgment on God. He did not reject the liberal cast
of mind--one open to truth, expansive in its generosity and willing to
engage a broad range of ideas. He rejected its refusal to acknowledge
sources of authority beyond its own pledge to a method of mind.
Liberalism, he charged, was not only closed to revelation, it was also
closed to conscience, wisdom, tradition, history, and ethical truth. In
this sense, Liberalism was the natural extension of Francis Bacon's beliefs that
distrusted tradition as an authoritative source. It placed in high esteem the
claim of John Locke that all beliefs must have complete independent demonstration as the
only legitimate reason for believing anything. Newman held that such a
stance while good at raising doubts, made it impossible to raise children.
Liberalism cannot pass along a culture that forms and shapes its
adherents. Thus, Liberalism was not only a threat to the Established
Church, but also to the national polis and to the family. Nothing like the
common good can continue in a system based on individual self-will and
doubt as the only arbiter of truth. Reason, he held, is more expansive
than such a limited definition offers. The key problem was that Liberalism
often continued to use the language of Christian faith, but it
increasingly emptied it of its content, promoting a tepid version of
Caryle's "natural supernaturalism," where all people have it
within their power to be saved by their own efforts and to be accepted by a God
who makes no specific claims. Grace, as a category, essentially ceases to
exist as nature becomes semi-fallen or unfallen in truth, if not in
rhetoric.
Newman's role in the Oxford Movement, as well as his
later conversion to Roman Catholicism, represents his career-long
commitment to oppose the Evangelical and Liberal trends as both
human-centered and cut off from Mother Church and from the tradition of
doctrine. Tractarianism as a movement was dedicated to the proposition
that the Anglican Church is a true element (or "branch") of the
Catholic Church, and that therefore, the key elements of Anglican identity
were at least framed in a flexible enough way under Henry VIII to allow
for their Catholic expression. The Oxford Movement, thus, supported a more
central role for the Eucharist in worship, believed in apostolic
succession, had a stronger emphasis on the church year, vestments, and
confession, held a more Catholic view of justification and the sacraments,
as well as an openness to a modified doctrine of purgatory and of prayers
to the saints. Eventually, of course, Newman came to believe that the
"branch theory" was untenable, and he made the move
to Rome in 1845.
Development of Doctrine
Newman's 1845 An Essay on the Development of
Christian Doctrine further clarified his influential notion that the revelation
of God is bound to the tradition of the Christian Church, that it is both
understood and elaborated within the liturgical life of the people.
Doctrines often begin as seeds which are unpacked and expanded in further
generations of faithful practice and piety. The apostolic leadership of
the Church, Newman holds, is authorized by Christ to teach and rule in his
name, but this rule is one that recognizes what is already taking place in
the faithful. Newman, therefore, rejects the more Protestant position of
scriptural authority as being somehow separate from the Church which holds
the deposit of scripture itself. Orthodox belief is made more clear in
each age as the Church encounters heretical, heterodoxical beliefs (e.g.
Arianism, Docetism), forcing her to further explain the seed of belief
that has always been held by all everywhere. Newman argued that a
consecutive continuity could be seen in the growth and changes of
doctrines over the centuries. This kind of growth and formulation were for
Newman a sign of the Holy Spirit's continued presence within the Church,
as well as the natural way the human mind encounters great ideas. What is initially
apprehended, over time will be further comprehended. This suggests that a
pope or church council could impart the right idea in a germinative way and
still not foresee its future elaboration. Yet Newman also had to
account for the opposite possibility, that of a corruption of the truth
over progressive generations. Eventually, Newman came to believe that this
had happened in Protestantism, including in Anglicanism.
He offers several ways of helping decide whether the
doctrinal evolution in question is a true development or a derivation: 1)
preservation of type, meaning the later form has the same essential
characteristics as the earlier form; 2) continuity of principles, in other
words, the underlying philosophical foundations stay the same; 3) power of
assimilation, the more life it takes on and is able to guard itself
against attacks; 4) logical sequence, in retrospect one can see the
unfolding development as orderly and rational; 5) anticipation of its
future, that is, earlier expressions of the doctrine prepare the way for
later, fuller developments; 6) conservative actions upon the past, meaning
the later expression tends to preserve important understandings and key
elements of the earlier, less precise understanding; and 7) chronic vigor,
that is simple longevity (though Newman admits this note by itself isn't
enough). Derivations, by contrast, distort essential element of belief,
offer counter-principles, tend to need ever increasing adjustments to
prop them up, appear irrational and disorderly in retrospect, violate
earlier beliefs in fundamentally harmful ways, and can come-and-go quickly
as some
heretical fashions are wont to do.
Patristic Theology
Therefore, the patristic period of Christianity (2nd-5th
centuries) were for Newman the central source for recovering what he saw
as an authentic Christian belief and practice. He held that at its heart
patristic Christianity was a religion of the Incarnation, that Christ came
to "deify" temporal humanity with eternal existence and that the
incarnation would have taken place even if the fall of humanity had not,
though doubtlessly in a categorically different way. In the same way, the
resurrection and ascension took on great importance as the promise of
human nature being exalted to the heavenly state--Christ paving the way,
as it were, to the direct apprehension of the glory of God. Pentecost,
then, becomes the personal presence of Jesus, via the Holy Spirit, in the
individual Christian's life. This presence can only be entered into in a
concrete, tangible way by a constant reception of the sacraments,
especially the Eucharist. The rhythm of the Church Year--with its move
from Advent to Christmas to Lent to Holy Week to Easter teaches the
believer the necessity of expectation and gift, the value of mourning for
sin and meditating on Christ's sacrifice, and the joy of reflecting on his
conquering death and sin.
A Spirituality of Obedience
Newman was particularly suspicious of a view of
justification that stressed imputed righteousness rather than the imparted
righteousness that comes with the slow work of sanctification and grace.
Belief and practice, faith and works, must always be balanced in Newman's
spirituality. The Scriptures as a source of belief and understanding were central to Newman's Christianity
from an early-age, and even after his conversion to Roman Catholicism, he
continued to stress the absolute importance of a faith shaped by biblical
study and reflection. A system of belief, however, that has not been truly
grasped by a person in inward realization, as well as in an outward
change,
is not real faith in Newman's thinking. Therefore, he also stressed the
transformative, yet ultimately mysterious power of the sacramental life.
Newman was convinced that the work of the Holy Spirit was mostly through
the indirect means of reason, emotions, and conscience. The hard work of
obedience is a constant call to holiness, a refusal to glamorize sin in
any way, or to try and please self without displeasing God. A holy life is a
habitual one, one trained in the personal mortification of the spiritual
disciplines. It works out of dependence upon Jesus because it is at the
weakest point of temptation that the true test lies for each person. This difficulty
shouldn't, however, be a cause for despair. Consistency over time gives
the heart a measure of assured faith and works as a buttress against
doubt.
Conscience & Authority
Newman held that the leadership of the Church should
consult the laity, not by deferring to them, but by listening to them and
taking seriously their views and understanding. The laity, the faithful,
are the voice of the living tradition of the Church. Certainly, popular
treatises should not be expected to have the exactness of theological
documents, but nonetheless they represent a real witness to the Church's
piety. The people function as kind of mirror for the leadership to see
itself. In church history, a number of times the bishops were swayed by
heresy, while the laity held to orthodoxy. This should serve as a warning
to church leaders who would deny the laity any role in doctrinal
formulation. The consent and consensus of
the faithful act as both the voice of the Holy Spirit and as a kind of
instinct in the mystical body of Christ. Nonetheless, the laity need the
study of church dogma to instruct them.
Conscience is binding for Newman; it must be obeyed.
As a Roman Catholic, he famously said that a person must obey conscience
before Pope. He held this not because he denied the authority of the
papacy, but because he saw in conscience a more basic principle at the
heart of human action and understanding. Conscience is what opens
one to listen to authority at all. In his The Letter to the
Duke of Norfolk (1875), he called conscience, "the aboriginal
vicar of Christ." Conscience is something formed inwardly,
intuitively, and over time, and therefore, not wisely gone against. The
pure in heart have an innocence and peace about them because they follow
the dictates of their conscience, while the hypocrite is always living in
bad faith. A conscience consistently followed is, for Newman, a sign of a
faithful child of the Church. Still, in no way did Newman consider
conscience an airtight source of truth. It could as easily deceive the
person as spur on to good deeds. A conscience has to be formed with a true
desire for the good and holy, not with self-justification and denial, else
the conscience becomes warped and decidedly dangerous in its denials.
Epistemology (Theory of Assent)
Newman has been called a skeptic about skepticism.
He rejected the position of Locke that belief is only warranted on the
basis of either self-evident propositions or on logical or scientific demonstration. He felt to
do so would be to limit all knowledge to nothing but inference.
Newman held that Truth is far larger and more multi-faceted than any
single mind can comprehend. The human mind itself exists in a flow of
knowledge that is constantly changing. All human science, theory, and
language is inherently limited in what it can approximate. Human thought
dwells within certain circles of understanding that always have an
interpretive element to them. While the human mind needs discipline in its
thinking, real thought works with a much larger palette than that of
formal logic. Chronological thinking, for example, is another way one can
access aspects of the organization of truth. For Newman, systematic
thinking that attempted synchronic thinking alone inevitably was lost to
the evolving nature of human thought. Likewise, focusing on the part over
against the whole can lead to intellectual blindness, just as a lack of
humility leads to loss of truth.
In Newman's view, faith and reason are not airtight
categories of knowing separate from one another but two interdependent
modes of understanding. They share much in common. All reason has a
measure of assumption, presumption, and prejudice. Indeed, thought cannot
proceed without it. All knowledge, including that of faith, is personal
knowledge. Unbelief is as much founded on presuppositions as is belief. As
a result, doubt
is really a tendency to believe in the counter-proposition and,
therefore, is itself a kind of assent. Faith, on the other hand, is not a
blind leap; it, too, is an act of the mind and has evidence derived from hope and desire.
It begins with a trust
and acceptance of things based on previously received grounds, much as one
might believe that Alaska exists or that the newspaper is generally
trustworthy in its reporting of events. So much of what we believe, we
believe without complete proof. We trust our senses, our memory, and our
day-to-day sources of information until we have reason to do otherwise.
The habit of faith arises out of a prolonged involvement with its object
of trust. Preparation of heart is, then, necessary to judge and to receive
truth. Faith is implicit reason that is guarded from error more by a
devout worship than by simple mental acuity.
What, then, is the structure of reasoning and faith?
We begin not by reasoning but by apprehending the object, which then gains
our assent. We only later begin to unpack the implied details of what we
have given our assent to. We often believe what we cannot understand and
what we cannot exhaustively comprehend or prove. Conviction is something
we all grow into over time. Concrete reasonings are not ultimate tests but
they are sufficient tests in practical reasoning. Newman divides forms of
assent into two types: notional assent, which includes profession,
credence, opinion, presumption, and speculation; and real assent, which is
imaginative certainty given to what we experience in the real world.
Beliefs in what the Church teaches are forms of assent both notional and
real. Thus, we gain certitude--a state of mind--all the time by directing
ourselves towards particular truths, and this lived involvement with the
object of our assent gives our certitude a quality of irreversibility. We
all have an illative sense, a faculty of theoretical reasoning that
judges the validity of inferences in much that same way that our prudence
(prudentia, phronesis) judges life practically. This
theoretical faculty includes a sense of judging what authorities we can
give our trust to. All good reason, if you will, is based on some measure
of faith, and all true faith has some measure of rationality in it.
University Education
To not teach theology is to admit a fundamental
aspect of human knowledge, and universities who omit it are not true
universities, that is institutions seeking to explore all learning. All
knowledge "forms one circle," Newman insisted. Academic disciplines
are each an abstracted view of fields of knowledge. They inevitable have a
partial view based on the limits of their disciplinary tools. Theology is
the science of all sciences, but it still only one aspect of learning.
(Keep in mind Newman uses the word "science" (scientia)
in the classic sense of an organized approach to knowledge involving
secondary causes of any sort). He believed that the inductive methods of
natural science (or physical theology as he called it) and the deductive
methods of theology were not finally at odds with one another.
Liberal learning is not the same as professional
vocational training. Instead, it is education intended to cultivate a
certain type of knower, a particular cast of person with refined habits of
thinking and perceiving. But this has its limits. A university is designed
to cultivate a person of sympathy and of polish, "a gentleman,"
not a person of faith and true religion. The virtues in question are
mostly intellectual rather than moral, though the overlap is obvious.
Within this understanding, Newman wanted to avoid education that
encouraged only "viewness," a person with much information but
no faculties by which to organize or truly understand facts and subjects.
In this sense, Newman held a version of the nature and grace hierarchy of
much Catholic culture. Nature achieves certain things, but must have grace
to go any further. The university trains a person to be able to
understand, critique, and apply any area of learning. It cannot impart
grace. Newman held to a very nineteenth-century notion of civilization as
a certain kind of (very Eurocentric) cultivated life; thus, the study of
literature as expressed in the classics was seen by him as an expression
of this culture. He understood that this training could as easily lead to
pride and sensuality as it could humility and charity. Thus, he held up
the idea of the Christian humanist scholar whose faith informs and
corrects his learning. |