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It is clear that ‘Jack’, as he was known to his friends, was no dry academic. Besides the love of teaching his own subject, he enjoyed the company of a select group of friends, including J.R.R. Tolkien. They met regularly, often in public houses or college rooms, to discuss literary topics, or one of their number would read an original work. It was at one of these meetings that Tolkien introduced them to his book The Hobbit. These were ‘hearty’ gatherings with generous amounts of beer and clouds of pipe smoke. In fact, Lewis seems to have lived much of his adult life in a haze of tobacco smoke, a fact often remembered by his students. Students learnt to respect, and to benefit from, his immense scholarship as their work was discussed. Aside from his college work, Lewis was approachable, not least in that as his reputation grew, he would attempt to answer all letters he received in relation to his work. An interesting description of an encounter, which began as a series of letters, can be found in Sheldon Vanauken’s book A Severe Mercy. During the Second World War the BBC persuaded Lewis to do a series of radio talks on Christianity. These proved to be very popular with the public, and later they became the main source for his book Mere Christianity. His other books on Christian topics are The Screwtape Letters, The Problem of Pain and The Great Divorce. In 1947 his work Miricles was published, drawing heavily on his philosophical and theological reading and thought. It is both challenging and rewarding to read. Besides his adult readership, Lewis became known to a generation of children as the author of the Narnia Books books. The first of these to appear was The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe in 1950. Replying to a letter from one young reader, the author said that he wrote the kind of book that he would have liked to have been given at the age of ten. Some people regard this series as among the best children’s books written for adults. After a series of amazing adventures, when the children return to their ordinary lives; the figure of Aslan and the imaginary world created in this allegory remain with the reader. Glyn Botham Cardinal Newman (October 2010 edition of the Church Magazine) Last month, Cardinal John Henry Newman was set on the path to becoming the first English saint since the Reformation when he was beatified by the Pope Benedict XVI in Birmingham.
Of course, such a principled stand, while admirable, is scarcely a qualification for sainthood. But there is vastly more to Newman’s life. First, there is the prodigious output of theological works. Those who were charged with examining them to make sure they contained no error which would act as a bar to beatification were confronted with a task lasting decades. There are 32,000 letters alone, including the famous one to Gladstone on papal infallibility, before even considering the tomes, such as the Apologia Pro Vita Sua, the prayers and hymns and other writings. One aspect of his vast collection of reasoning and teaching that must appeal to Pope Benedict will be Newman’s attacks on liberalism, which the current pontiff has echoed. Newman foresaw the consequences of the growth of secularism, not only for the church but for society as a whole. Amid the moral disintegration of the 21st century his warning rings like a clarion call. Another less well-recognised legacy of Newman is in the field of education. Not only did he found the Oratories, which have taught generations of children, but he was instrumental in the idea that universities should serve all of society, including those who were able but also poor. In effect, he was the founder of the modern university. His other great thesis on higher education, that it should be about reasoning rather than just a utilitarian preparation for a particular career, still has equal resonance today. Yet no matter how holy a life, or how orthodox the teaching, there is a huge hurdle for any candidate for sainthood to overcome. There must be a miracle, which is to say a beneficial effect that is instant, inexplicable and verifiable, procured as a result of invoking the intercession of a saint. One miracle can result in beatification, but for full sainthood (canonisation), two are required. The first miracle, the curing of a severe spinal disorder suffered by Jack Sullivan, a Catholic deacon from Massachusetts, has been accepted by the Church. A second miracle, of a child diagnosed as severely handicapped in the womb and then born perfect, has not yet been verified but is being examined. Cardinal Newman is an obvious case for sainthood. His life was one of simplicity, sacrifice and conscientious study. He was fearless in the cause of his beliefs and tireless in promoting them. He foresaw, accurately, the impact of a society that decides, to borrow a phrase from Alastair Campbell, ‘not to do God’. Edited version of an article that appeared in the Daily Telegraph newspaper. |
