Homily given on 9 October 2024 for the feast of St John Henry Newman at Our Lady of the Assumption, Warwick Street
Reading the Gospel passage for this evening’s celebration of the Mass I felt like the scribe, faced with bringing out of the storehouse things both old and new. But what is new to say about St John Henry Newman? I could reflect on him as a seeker of truth and of the personal sacrifice he made in its pursuit; or as a man of intense personal reflection; or as a prodigious writer of letters; or as an outstanding theologian. I could reflect on the unforgettable day of his beatification in Cofton Park or his canonisation in Rome, in the presence of the then Prince Charles. Or I could speak a little of the progress being made in the process of his becoming a Doctor of the Church. But instead, I am going to focus on a few key moments and dates which stand out in my mind and memory.
The first is a moment for which I have no precise date. It is well known here in this church and it is the occasion, in the early years of the 19th century, when Mr Newman brought his young son, John Henry, here to listen to the music provided, in those days, by opera singers, especially those from Italy and Portugal. Referring to this visit in later life, Newman had a special recall of the incense used during that celebration. I think he did not approve, perhaps as an early sign that his first conversion experience was into the Evangelical expression of the Christian faith. His journey into the Catholic Church did not get off to a good start. But we thank God for his company here with us this evening, together with the angels and saints of heaven.
The second moment I wish to recall is the day of his burial, 19 August 1890.
The reports of his funeral and burial provided by the Birmingham Post at that time are still vivid in the impression they give of that remarkable day. They describe, for example, the majestic and impressive sound of the Birmingham clergy singing together in great number the plainchant of the Requiem Mass. noting that the Fathers of the Oratory agreed to that character of the Liturgy, even though, as the report puts it, their own preference was for ‘figured music’.
The reports then describe the long procession from the Oratory Church to the place of burial in Rednal, the location of the Oratorians’ retreat home south of the city of Birmingham. They highlighted the crowds that lined the roads over its entire 6 or 7 mile route - some 30,000 were estimated at that time.
This is an image which remains fixed in my mind, and with it a question: how many in that vast crowd had ever read a letter or sermon of John Henry Newman? How many had read the Apologia or any other of the published writings of the great Cardinal? Very few, I guess. They were there for another reason. They had eyes for a different greatness in the man whose death they were mourning.
It is good to remember that John Henry Newman ministered as a Catholic priest for 43 years, the greater part of his adult life. It was this ministry that the people were saluting on that day: the ordinary ministry, the heroic ministry of a dedicated and deeply pastoral priest.
A few illustrations.
You will know, perhaps, how Fr Newman, as a regular part of his ministry, visited families in their homes. Indeed he had done so as an Anglican in Oxford, visiting the homes of parishioners and strangers alike. There is one story of him visiting a poor family whose child was gravely ill. Fr Newman took with him a relic of St Philip Neri. He blessed the little girl with the relic. She recovered her health. But the story doesn’t end there. Fr Newman kept in touch with her throughout her life, officiated at her wedding, supported her through difficult times. His ministry included faithfulness and steadfast perseverance. Indeed, his faithfulness to those who contacted him is attested by the endless stream of letters which left his upright desk.
Another example of his priestly ministry was the walk he made, in old age, to the Bournville estate and factory in order to stand up for the Catholic employees. The Quaker owners had decided that each day would begin with Bible reading, study and prayer for all employees. Fr Newman went to protest that this must not be imposed on Catholics. The old man won the day. Would any of those employees ever forget that sign of solidarity and support given by the man they simply called ‘Father’?
And one more example, which always makes me smile. Newman was invited by a Mgr Talbot, one of the English cohort in Rome to go to Rome and preach at a special ceremony. His reply makes clear his priorities. It was something like this: I have no taste for the events to which you invite me. I prefer to stay here, for the people of Birmingham also have souls to be saved.
This is the Newman to whom I wish to draw attention this evening as we celebrate his feast in this historic church. Newman the parish priest.
Newman was a patron for every priest in his pastoral ministry. He inspires us with his dedication to those in his care, and to everyone in need or in distress. The greatness of Cardinal Newman was undoubtedly known by the people lining the streets of that funeral cortege. But they were there not simply because he was a Cardinal but more because he was their Father, their priest, and held a place in their hearts.
So today, as we thank God for his life and faith, we look towards him for many reasons, but never forget him as a model and patron for all parish clergy.
The third date, unforgettable to me, was 2 October 2008. On that afternoon I stood with the professional grave diggers agreeing that there was no purpose to be served in prolonging the excavation of the grave of the Cardinal. The sides of the grave were at risk of collapsing, the site of the coffin of John Henry Newman had clearly been reached and all that remained there had been recovered. The excavation was halted. Beforehand preparations for the removal of his remains had been made – a coffin had been prepared and a process agreed with the authorities. But all that was found of substance was the coffin plate, dented by the digger, a handle or two and the remains of the small crucifix that had rested on the chest of the Cardinal. It was identifiable by the hand-drawn illustration in the Birmingham Post of the body of the Cardinal laying in state in the Oratory Church in the days before the funeral. The hearse that had been in place to carry away his remains left empty. We came away with hearts filled with mixed emotions, although one wise man, Bishop David McGough, who had grown up in a family of undertakers had assured me, before the excavations began, that nothing would be found in the grave after 100 years, in damp and sloping ground. He was right.
Yet the presence of Cardinal St John Henry Newman continues among us as strongly as ever. His miracles of healing, the magnitude of his intellect and his command of language, his deep and at times fragile humanity, his courage in the search for truth still shine forth as brightly as ever.
So I finish with one more date: 13 October 2019, the day of his canonisation in Rome. Among the guests that day was our present King. Prince Charles, as he then was, he gave a most moving speech, describing the new saint as ‘a fearless defender of truth’ and adding these words:
‘He was able to advocate without accusation, disagree without disrespect and, perhaps most of all, to see difference as a place of encounter rather than exclusion.’
This thought certainly reflects the mind of our gracious King. May the inspiration at so many levels given by Cardinal St John Henry Newman guide us all in our ministry of healing and proclamation.
Amen.