Apologia Pro Vita Sua by Cardinal John Henry Newman, Post 5

This is the fifth post in a series of St. John Henry Newman’s Apologia Pro Vita Sua. 

You can find Post #1 here.  

Post #2 here.  

Post #3 here. 

Post #4 here. 

 

Chapter 3: History of my Religious Opinions from 1839 to 1841

Summary

Having established the Oxford Movement and been a principle contributor to the Tracts that defined the Via Media of Anglicanism, Newman in chapter 3 traces the doubts of his belief in the very notions he had articulated.  Chronologically he starts the chapter in 1839 when he is at the height of his status within the Anglican Church and culminates in a fiery protest to his Church at the end of 1841, when the Anglican Church through the British government tries to gain jurisdiction over other Protestant groups overseas, thereby discrediting the notion of the Anglican Church as Apostolic.  Besides the theological arguments casting doubt in those intervening years, it showed the Anglican Church had been as heretical in its splintering from the Catholic Church as the other Protestant denominations.  

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Peej Commented:

The end of this chapter struck me. Anglicanism derives it’s authority from being a primitive branch of the Catholic Church, one that had to separate itself based on “Roman” Catholicism’s dogmatic errors.

 

Yet Newman saw that same Church claim authority over other Protestant sects without any formal renunciation of heretical teachings. Hand in hand with Newman’s own condemnation by certain Anglican bishops, the author realized the tendency of schismatic sects to divide while relying upon political power to expand.

 

Truly a saint for unity of the global Catholic Church.

My Reply:

I'm trying to trace Newman's logic between Antiquity and Catholicity. I don't think you hear the argment any more because it's proven to be just a bunch of bull. The only reason Anglicanism can trace itself to antiquity is because it was part of the Catholic Church and because Henry VIII kept as many Catholic traditions as he did. It makes the Anglicans stand out from the other Protestants, who shucked as many as possible. I think Newman was under a delusion, of which he will be come to realize.

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Peej Commented:

Newman addresses your points in “Development of Christian Doctrine”, @Manny. The ultimate conceit of the Antiquity argument is at which point does one draw the line? Which century? And which doctrines preceded Nicene, and which doctrines came after which the Anglicans still subscribe to? Sounds neat and clean, but it isn’t!

My Reply:

That was what I thought, only I wasn't sure since I haven't read it. It did catch my eye and I did make the connection. When I looked it up, he published that in 1845, the same year of his conversion. It might have been the first written work as a Catholic. I wonder if that idea grows bigger here in his Apologia as we read further. It may have been the most significant reason for his conversion. 

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At the beginning of this chapter, Newman highlights that one of his guiding principles of Anglicanism is its link to what he calls “primitive Christianity.”  So what exactly is primitive Christianity?  The Church Fathers of the first five or six centuries?  The Church Fathers of the first two centuries?  Or the Apostolic Fathers that ended with the first century?  It does make a difference, and I can’t seem to find any definition.

In an article in 1839, Newman gives what he calls the last words as an Anglican.  Here he describes his point on the development of doctrine from which he saw Anglicanism derived:

 

The notice of these incidental faults of opinion or temper in adherents of the Movement, led on to a discussion of the secondary causes, by means of which a system of doctrine may be embraced, modified, or developed, of the variety of schools which may all be in the One Church, and of the succession of one phase of doctrine to another, while that doctrine is ever one and the same. Thus I was brought on to the subject of Antiquity, which was the basis of the doctrine of the Via Media, and by which was not to be understood a servile imitation of the past, but such a reproduction of it as is really new, while it is old. "We have good hope," I say, "that a system will be rising up, superior to the age, yet harmonizing with, and carrying out its higher points, which will attract to itself those who are willing to make a venture and to face difficulties, for the sake of something higher in prospect. On this, as on other subjects, the proverb will apply, 'Fortes fortuna adjuvat.'"

So that is how he saw Anglicanism’s relationship to the past—surely developed, but still “harmonizing” with the antiquity, for the “sake of something higher.”  Then he turns to the future Anglican Church and hopes that it maintains its link to the “ancient religion.” 

 

Lastly, I proceeded to the question of that future of the Anglican Church, which was to be a new birth of the Ancient Religion. And I did not venture to pronounce upon it. "About the future, we have no prospect before our minds whatever, good or bad. Ever since that great luminary, Augustine, proved to be the last bishop of Hippo, Christians have had a lesson against attempting to foretell, how Providence will prosper and" [or?] "bring to an end, what it begins." Perhaps the lately-revived principles would prevail in the Anglican Church; perhaps they would be lost in "some miserable schism, or some more miserable compromise; but there was nothing rash in venturing to predict that "neither Puritanism nor Liberalism had any permanent inheritance within her."

Notice that he cast aside the competing Protestant denominations: the Puritans who at their root had veered from the ancient religion and the Liberals who are in the process of veering.  He goes on to develop these points about the competing Protestants, and I’m not going to delve into it.  He concludes his article by laying down a fundamental option:

 

I concluded the Article by saying, that all who did not wish to be "democratic, or pantheistic, or popish," must "look out for some Via Media which will preserve us from what threatens, though it cannot restore the dead. … Would you rather have your sons and daughters members of the Church of England or of the Church of Rome?"

And so, having cast aside the Low Church options, he will take on Rome. 

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With that article he has defined theological space between Anglicanism and Low Church Puritanism and Low Church Liberalism, and so, then, he turns to address the controversy with Catholicism.

 

And thus I left the matter. But, while I was thus speaking of the future of the Movement, I was in truth winding up my accounts with it, little dreaming that it was so to be;—while I was still, in some way or other, feeling about for an available Via Media, I was soon to receive a shock which was to cast out of my imagination all middle courses and compromises for ever. As I have said, this Article appeared in the April number of the British Critic; in the July number, I cannot tell why, there is no Article of mine; before the number for October, the event had happened to which I have alluded.

 

But before I proceed to describe what happened to me in the summer of 1839, I must detain the reader for a while, in order to describe the issue of the controversy between Rome and the Anglican Church, as I viewed it.

So he takes his time to study Catholicism, and he mentions Robert Bellarmine, saint and doctor of the Catholic Church, in particular.  Bellarmine was perhaps the single most important thinker behind the Council of Trent.  Newman brings up a point that he studied both the doctrines of the Church and the actual application.

First I saw, as all see who study the subject, that a broad distinction had to be drawn between the actual state of belief and of usage in the countries which were in communion with the Roman Church, and her formal dogmas; the latter did not cover the former. Sensible pain, for instance, is not implied in the Tridentine decree upon Purgatory; but it was the tradition of the Latin Church, and I had seen the pictures of souls in flames in the streets of Naples. Bishop Lloyd had brought this distinction out strongly in an Article in the British Critic in 1825; indeed, it was one of the most common objections made to the Church of Rome, that she dared not commit herself by formal decree, to what nevertheless she sanctioned and allowed. Accordingly, in my Prophetical Office, I view as simply separate ideas, Rome quiescent, and Rome in action. I contrasted her creed on the one hand, with her ordinary teaching, her controversial tone, her political and social bearing, and her popular beliefs and practices, on the other.

And then he does the same thing for Anglicanism and compares.

 

While I made this distinction between the decrees and the traditions of Rome, I drew a parallel distinction between Anglicanism quiescent, and Anglicanism in action. In its formal creed Anglicanism was not at a great distance from Rome: far otherwise, when viewed in its insular space, the traditions of its establishment, its historical characteristics, its controversial rancour, and its private judgment. I disavowed and condemned those excesses, and called them "Protestantism" or "Ultra-Protestantism:" I wished to find a parallel disclaimer, on the part of Roman controversialists, of that popular system of beliefs and usages in their own Church, which I called "Popery." When that hope was a dream, I saw that the controversy lay between the book-theology of Anglicanism on the one side, and the living system of what I called Roman corruption on the other. I could not get further than this; with this result I was forced to content myself.

And then it dawned on him what the distinction was.

These then were the parties in the controversy:—the Anglican Via Media and the popular religion of Rome. And next, as to the issue, to which the controversy between them was to be brought, it was this:—the Anglican disputant took his stand upon Antiquity or Apostolicity, the Roman upon Catholicity. The Anglican said to the Roman: "There is but One Faith, the Ancient, and you have not kept to it;" the Roman retorted: "There is but One Church, the Catholic, and you are out of it." The Anglican urged: "Your special beliefs, practices, modes of action, are nowhere in Antiquity;" the Roman objected: "You do not communicate with any one Church besides your own and its offshoots, and you have discarded principles, doctrines, sacraments, and usages, which are and ever have been received in the East and the West." The true Church, as defined in the Creeds, was both Catholic and Apostolic; now, as I viewed the controversy in which I was engaged, England and Rome had divided these notes or prerogatives between them: the cause lay thus, Apostolicity versus Catholicity.

So in his mind, Anglicanism had maintained the apostolic faith, or the faith of antiquity, while Rome had kept the doctrines but evolved in application so that Catholics had created a working system divergent from the apostolic faith.  To Newman, the doctrines were the same but the application was different.  So this is what Newman means as the faith of Antiquity (or Apostolic) and Catholicity.  It is important to understand these terms as you read further.

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Peej Commented:

Thanks Manny. In this line of clarification, focus on Newman’s historical metaphors:

 

Monophysites=Protestants

 

Anglicans=Oriental Church influenced by Monophysites

 

Rome=Catholic Church, today and always

 

Arians=Protestants

 

Anglicans=Semi-Arians

 

Rome=Catholic Church, today and always

 

Newman’s reading drew out these comparisons, attracting him further to the Catholic Church as the one, holy, Catholic, and apostolic Church.

My Reply:

Peej, that is so helpful. The key there I think is that these are metaphors. For the longest time I was trying to figure out why he considered Protestants monophysites but it's not that they are theological monophysites but acted in the manner of the monophysites. Yes, these are metaphors. 

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So Newman in studying the history of Christianity in 1839 became absorbed in the develoment of the Monophysites.

 

About the middle of June I began to study and master the history of the Monophysites. I was absorbed in the doctrinal question. This was from about June 13th to August 30th. It was during this course of reading that for the first time a doubt came upon me of the tenableness of Anglicanism. I recollect on the 30th of July mentioning to a friend, whom I had accidentally met, how remarkable the history was; but by the end of August I was seriously alarmed.

 

The Monophysitic heresy was over the nature of Christ.  The Council of Nicaea determined that Christ was of two natures, divine and man.  The Monophysites were those that declared that Christ was only of one nature, of strictly divine.  Now there were variations on this one, divine nature, so they were not all uniform in belief, but they were all heretical.  You can read about the variations here.   But in understanding the Monophysitic heresy, he noticed Pope Leo the Great’s response to the heresy and he noticed the Monophysitic reaction by attaching themselves to political power, and he came to a startling realization.

 

I have described in a former work, how the history affected me. My stronghold was Antiquity; now here, in the middle of the fifth century, I found, as it seemed to me, Christendom of the sixteenth and the nineteenth centuries reflected. I saw my face in that mirror, and I was a Monophysite. The Church of the Via Media was in the position of the Oriental communion, Rome was where she now is; and the Protestants were the Eutychians. Of all passages of history, since history has been, who would have thought of going to the sayings and doings of old Eutyches, that delirus senex, as (I think) Petavius calls him, and to the enormities of the unprincipled Dioscorus, in order to be converted to Rome!

He realized the Protestant and Rome’s reactions of the sixteenth century were similar to that of the Monophysites and Rome’s reaction of the fifth century.

 

"It was difficult to make out how the Eutychians or Monophysites were heretics, unless Protestants and Anglicans were heretics also; difficult to find arguments against the Tridentine Fathers, which did not tell against the Fathers of Chalcedon; difficult to condemn the Popes of the sixteenth century, without condemning the Popes of the fifth. The drama of religion, and the combat of truth and error, were ever one and the same. The principles and proceedings of the Church now, were those of the Church then; the principles and proceedings of heretics then, were those of Protestants now. I found it so,—almost fearfully; there was an awful similitude, more awful, because so silent and unimpassioned, between the dead records of the past and the feverish chronicle of the present. The shadow of the fifth century was on the sixteenth. It was like a spirit rising from the troubled waters of the old world, with the shape and lineaments of the new. The Church then, as now, might be called peremptory and stern, resolute, overbearing, and relentless; and heretics were shifting, changeable, reserved, and deceitful, ever courting civil power, and never agreeing together, except by its aid; and the civil power was ever aiming at comprehensions, trying to put the invisible out of view, and substituting expediency for faith. What was the use of continuing the controversy, or defending my position, if, after all, I was forging arguments for Arius or Eutyches, and turning devil's advocate against the much-enduring Athanasius and the majestic Leo?

The bold above is my emphasis.  And then he collaborates with a friend who reminds him of St. Augustine’s words when dealing with the Donatist heresy, a different heresy than the Monophysites, but a heresy nonetheless. 

 

But my friend, an anxiously religious man, now, as then, very dear to me, a Protestant still, pointed out the palmary words of St. Augustine, which were contained in one of the extracts made in the Review, and which had escaped my observation. "Securus judicat orbis terrarum." He repeated these words again and again, and, when he was gone, they kept ringing in my ears. "Securus judicat orbis terrarum;" they were words which went beyond the occasion of the Donatists: they applied to that of the Monophysites. They gave a cogency to the Article, which had escaped me at first. They decided ecclesiastical questions on a simpler rule than that of Antiquity; nay, St. Augustine was one of the prime oracles of Antiquity; here then Antiquity was deciding against itself. What a light was hereby thrown upon every controversy in the Church! not that, for the moment, the multitude may not falter in their judgment,—not that, in the Arian hurricane, Sees more than can be numbered did not bend before its fury, and fall off from St. Athanasius,—not that the crowd of Oriental Bishops did not need to be sustained during the contest by the voice and the eye of St. Leo; but that the deliberate judgment, in which the whole Church at length rests and acquiesces, is an infallible prescription and a final sentence against such portions of it as protest and secede. Who can account for the impressions which are made on him? For a mere sentence, the words of St. Augustine, struck me with a power which I never had felt from any words before. To take a familiar instance, they were like the "Turn again Whittington" of the chime; or, to take a more serious one, they were like the "Tolle, lege,—Tolle, lege," of the child, which converted St. Augustine himself. "Securus judicat orbis terrarum!" By those great words of the ancient Father, interpreting and summing up the long and varied course of ecclesiastical history, the theory of the Via Media was absolutely pulverized.

Securus judicat orbis terrarium, “The verdict of the world is conclusive.”  The Church in its wisdom and authority from the Holy Spirit had made a decision, and that decision was conclusive.  It was no different in the sixteenth century as in the fifth.  It “pulverized” the Protestant heresy, even the Anglican supposed middle way.

 

However, my new historical fact had already to a certain point a logical force. Down had come the Via Media as a definite theory or scheme, under the blows of St. Leo. My Prophetical Office had come to pieces; not indeed as an argument against "Roman errors," nor as against Protestantism, but as in behalf of England. I had no longer a distinctive plea for Anglicanism, unless I would be a Monophysite. I had, most painfully, to fall back upon my three original points of belief, which I have spoken so much of in a former passage,—the principle of dogma, the sacramental system, and anti-Romanism. Of these three the first two were better secured in Rome than in the Anglican Church. The Apostolical Succession, the two prominent sacraments, and the primitive Creeds, belonged, indeed, to the latter; but there had been and was far less strictness on matters of dogma and ritual in the Anglican system than in the Roman: in consequence, my main argument for the Anglican claims lay in the positive and special charges, which I could bring against Rome. I had no positive Anglican theory. I was very nearly a pure Protestant. Lutherans had a sort of theology, so had Calvinists; I had none.

And so, he even realizes that his Via Media had actually a lesser claim to challenge Rome than the other Protestant denomination.  Luther and Calvin had put forth a different theology, however incorrect, than Catholicism.  Anglicanism was essentially a qualification to Catholicism, and so had even less of a right to protest.

Now this came to Newman in 1839, but what held him back from conversion was his hope that the Church of England would move toward Catholicity and eventually return.  But in 1841, with the Church of England through the British government taking on the governance of foreign Protestants who were not Anglican, it became apparent to Newman that the Church of England was moving further afield from Catholicity, and so his hope was dashed.  His faith in the Anglican Church at this point was “shattered.” 

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Peej above gave us that great John Henry Newman quote, "To Be Deep in History Is to Cease to Be Protestant.”

I've known that quote for a long time and not having read the context I imagined it was because Newman reading the Church Fathers saw the sacraments from their origin and concluded Protestantism had deviated and that Catholicism had not. I imagined he looked into the past and could not find Protestantism in the early Church. But according to this chapter, it was not that at all. The history that converted Newman was the history of the heresies and how Rome dealt with them. He saw Protestantism as just another heresy.

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Robert Barron explains Newman well in this little video clip.

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Peej Commented:

He sees this later with Arianism as well. Arians spread throughout Rome during and after the martyrdoms, and the heresy held a lot of influence before the edict of toleration. It allowed pagans to acknowledge Christianity without radically changing their lives and repenting.

 

Once again, the connection between political power and splintering denominations.

My Reply:

Yes, and Arianism was a huge problem in the Eastern Church. It was almost all taken up by the heresy, that is by the clergy and bishops. There's a quote from St. John Chrysostom that I love to cite: “The road to hell is paved with the skulls and bones of heretical bishops.” I use it against some of the current events going on, but I suspect Chrysostom was using against the Arian heresy that was so widespread in the church of his day.

Peej Replied:

Thanks Manny.

 

I also notice Newman’s attention to the Roman Catholic Church’s political and secular actions and their inconsistencies with the Gospel. Moral scandal and supposed idolatry are part of his hesitancy to convert, which he engages in the next chapter. I hear these same arguments from modern Protestants.

 

Newman believes it’s important for both churches to primarily work on evangelization and preaching Christ crucified, as “approving ourselves as missionaries of Christ”, as he quotes St. Paul. Political considerations should be secondary, which is why he’s so disturbed by the Anglican bishopric of Jerusalem. This is one of the factors of Newman’s influence on Vatican II.

 

In tying this chapter back to the purpose of the entire work, Newman is defending himself against accusations that he led other clerics and laypeople to Rome during the “sickness” of his own faith.

 

Newman wrote the Apologia to defend his name and clarify his religious journey against Kingsley. Newman makes it very clear that he intended to step back from the clergy, become a lay person, and retire his parish seat as he struggled with the Via Media and the political scandal of the Anglican Church. He never intentionally led others to Rome, while telling them to retain public positions.

 

Newman makes it clear that this was a pilgrimage of conscience, striving for honesty in every aspect. He really had no intention of leaving the Anglican Church, and even condemned such an act as that of exclusively private judgement, betraying one’s own community. He grew a lot over these years.

My Reply:

Yes, we should keep his objective in mind. Thanks Peej.

Kerstin Commented:

Manny wrote: "Chronologically he starts the chapter in 1839 when he is at the height of his status within the Anglican Church and culminates in a fiery protest to his Church at the end of 1841, when the Anglican Church through the British government tries to gain jurisdiction over other Protestant groups overseas, thereby discrediting the notion of the Anglican Church as Apostolic."

This is a major rift in the understanding what the Anglican Church is. Whereas before Newman strives to make connections of the Anglican Church between antiquity and the present, now these must seem increasingly tenuous. With this political move the Anglican Church leaves him and his understanding of 'Church' behind.
This sticks out at me because this is what gave me the final push to convert. The Lutheran ELCA assembly was actually voting, cherry picking really, on what in the Bible is applicable and what not regarding human sexuality. ...Ah yes, the old temptation of remaking the Church in our own image... So what do you do? Try to work within to help rectify an impossible situation or leave this mess behind and cross the Tiber?
In hindsight trying to make tenuous connections or making excuses seem so futile. Looking back one realizes that at this point in the journey reason hasn't quite caught up to where the heart already is.