Newman's Poetry in Prose: "Worship, a Preparation for Christ's Coming"

Yesterday, our Lovers of Newman group--usually hosted at the convent of the Sisters of the Immaculate Heart of Mary west of Wichita in the farmland near Colwich, Kansas--met on the east side of town to read a sermon by Saint John Henry Newman. We read, out loud, one of his Parochial and Plain Sermons, "Worship, a Preparation for Christ's Coming." This was an Advent sermon, delivered on December 2, 1838, but we were reading it during the heat of summer.

His text was: "Thine eyes shall see the King in his beauty: they shall behold the land that is very far off." Isaiah xxxiii. 17.

It must have the most evocative opening sequence of any sermon ever written, so that we almost felt the chill of winter and the grip of old age as we read it:

The year is worn out: spring, summer, autumn, each in turn, have brought their gifts and done their utmost; but they are over, and the end is come. All is past and gone, all has failed, all has sated; we are tired of the past; we would not have the seasons longer; and the austere weather which succeeds, though ungrateful to the body, is in tone with our feelings, and acceptable. Such is the frame of mind which befits the end of the year; and such the frame of mind which comes alike on good and bad at the end of life. The days have come in which they have no pleasure; yet they would hardly be young again, could they be so by wishing it. Life is well enough in its way; but it does not satisfy. Thus the soul is cast forward upon the future, and in proportion as its conscience is clear and its perception keen and true, does it rejoice solemnly that "the night is far spent, the day is at hand," that there are "new heavens and a new earth" to come, though the former are failing; nay, rather that, because they are failing, it will "soon see the King in His beauty," and "behold the land which is very far off." These are feelings for holy men in winter and in age, waiting, in some dejection perhaps, but with comfort on the whole, and calmly though earnestly, for the Advent of Christ.

And such, too, are the feelings with which we now come before Him in prayer day by day. The season is chill and dark, and the breath of the morning is damp, and worshippers are few, but all this befits those who are by profession penitents and mourners, watchers and pilgrims. More dear to them that loneliness, more cheerful that severity, and more bright that gloom, than all those aids and appliances of luxury by which men nowadays attempt to make prayer less disagreeable to them. True faith does not covet comforts. It only complains when it is forbidden to kneel, when it reclines upon cushions, is protected by curtains, and encompassed by warmth. Its only hardship is to be hindered, or to be ridiculed, when it would place itself as a sinner before its Judge. They who realize that awful Day when they shall see Him face to face, whose eyes are as a flame of fire, will as little bargain to pray pleasantly now, as they will think of doing so then.

In this sermon, Newman is focused on our need to prepare for the day when we will see the face of Our Savior, when we will be judged by Jesus Christ, and when--we hope and pray--we will be with Him in Heaven. We can't get ready just by being good people, he notes, by observing the laws of morality and the practice of charity. What we need to do to prepare for this sight, this judgment, even this heavenly bliss, is to learn to worship the God behind the veil according to the worship He requires of us:

Now observe, that it is scarcely a sufficient answer to this question to say that we must strive to obey Him, and so to approve ourselves to Him. This indeed might be enough, were reward and punishment to follow in the mere way of nature, as they do in this world. But, when we come steadily to consider the matter, appearing before God, and dwelling in His presence, is a very different thing from being merely subjected to a system of moral laws, and would seem to require another preparation, a special preparation of thought and affection, such as will enable us to endure His countenance, and to hold communion with Him as we ought. Nay, and, it may be, a preparation of the soul itself for His presence, just as the bodily eye must be exercised in order to bear the full light of day, or the bodily frame in order to bear exposure to the air.

But, whether or not this be safe reasoning, Scripture precludes the necessity of it, by telling us that the Gospel Covenant is intended, among its other purposes, to prepare us for this future glorious and wonderful destiny, the sight of God,—a destiny which, if not most glorious, will be most terrible. And in the worship and service of Almighty God, which Christ and His Apostles have left to us, we are vouchsafed means, both moral and mystical, of approaching God, and gradually learning to bear the sight of Him.

This indeed is the most momentous reason for religious worship, as far as we have grounds for considering it a true one. Men sometimes ask, Why need they profess religion? Why need they go to church? Why need they observe certain rites and ceremonies? Why need they watch, pray, fast, and meditate? Why is it not enough to be just, honest, sober, benevolent, and otherwise virtuous? Is not this the true and real worship of God? Is not activity in mind and conduct the most acceptable way of approaching Him? How can they please Him by submitting to certain religious forms, and taking part in certain religious acts? Or if they must do so, why may they not choose their own? Why must they come to church for them? Why must they be partakers in what the Church calls Sacraments? I answer, they must do so, first of all and especially, because God tells them so to do. But besides this, I observe that we see this plain reason why, that they are one day to change their state of being. They are not to be here for ever. Direct intercourse with God on their part now, prayer and the like, may be necessary to their meeting Him suitably hereafter: and direct intercourse on His part with them, or what we call sacramental communion, may be necessary in some incomprehensible way, even for preparing their very nature to bear the sight of Him.

We often read about ways to prepare to pray during the course of our days, to place ourselves in the presence of God, and there are written prayers to prepare ourselves to offer the Sacrifice of the Mass in our intentions and to prepare to receive Holy Communion, but I think that Newman offers even richer ways of preparation.

He suggests these thoughts before we begin our morning or evening or night prayers:

Such then is the spirit in which we should come to all His ordinances, considering them as anticipations and first-fruits of that sight of Him which one day must be. When we kneel down in prayer in private, let us think to ourselves, Thus shall I one day kneel down before His very footstool, in this flesh and this blood of mine; and He will be seated over against me, in flesh and blood also, though divine. I come, with the thought of that awful hour before me, I come to confess my sin to Him now, that He may pardon it then, and I say, "O Lord, Holy God, Holy and Strong, Holy and Immortal, in the hour of death and in the day of judgment, deliver us, O Lord!"

And Newman suggests these thoughts before Mass (he was an Anglican when he wrote this sermon, but I apply them to preparation for the celebration of Holy Mass):

Again, when we come to church, then let us say:—The day will be when I shall see Christ surrounded by His Holy Angels. I shall be brought into that blessed company, in which all will be pure, all bright. I come then to learn to endure the sight of the Holy One and His Servants; to nerve myself for a vision which is fearful before it is ecstatic, and which they only enjoy whom it does not consume. When men in this world have to undergo any great thing, they prepare themselves beforehand, by thinking often of it, and they call this making up their mind. Any unusual trial they thus make familiar to them. Courage is a necessary step in gaining certain goods, and courage is gained by steady thought. Children are scared, and close their eyes, at the vision of some mighty warrior or glorious king. And when Daniel saw the Angel, like St. John, "his comeliness was turned in him into corruption, and he retained no strength." [Dan. x. 8.] I come then to church, because I am an heir of heaven. It is my desire and hope one day to take possession of my inheritance: and I come to make myself ready for it, and I would not see heaven yet, for I could not bear to see it. I am allowed to be in it without seeing it, that I may learn to see it. And by psalm and sacred song, by confession and by praise, I learn my part.

Newman then describes the effects of the (Anglican) church's Ordinances, which our Lovers of Newman group as Catholics applied to the Seven Sacraments of the Catholic Church, and the Liturgical Seasons, as they help us prepare.

Then he concludes:

Let us go out to meet Him with contrite and expectant hearts; and though He delays His coming, let us watch for Him in the cold and dreariness which must one day have an end. Attend His summons we must, at any rate, when He strips us of the body; let us anticipate, by a voluntary act, what will one day come on us of necessity. Let us wait for Him solemnly, fearfully, hopefully, patiently, obediently; let us be resigned to His will, while active in good works. Let us pray Him ever, to "remember us when He cometh in His kingdom;" to remember all our friends; to remember our enemies; and to visit us according to His mercy here, that He may reward us according to His righteousness hereafter.

I will never forget the day last year (Tuesday, March 17, 2020; Saint Patrick's Day!) when I had attended daily Mass at the Cathedral of the Immaculate Conception and the priest made the announcement at the end of Mass that public worship in the Catholic churches of the Wichita diocese would cease as of 1:00 p.m. that day. The priest also announced that all the Perpetual Adoration chapels would close as of 1:00 p.m. that day. So someone trying to prepare to see Jesus as she would as soon as she died, coming to her hour of adoration before the Blessed Sacrament in the monstrance, was turned away. And the fortunate person who was praying in chapel, trying to sense the Presence behind the veil, left with the question of when he'd be able to return to his regular hour before the Blessed Sacrament.

It may have been thought necessary at the time, but after reading this sermon three times, I think even more than I did before how horrible a day that truly was. We know that God can always provide, and that the Church dispensed us from our obligation to attend Mass on Sundays and Holy Days of Obligation, but we were cut off from the Sacraments, which as Newman says, help us see behind the veil:

And what is true of the ordinary services of religion, public and private, holds in a still higher or rather in a special way, as regards the sacramental ordinances of the Church. In these is manifested in greater or less degree, according to the measure of each, that Incarnate Saviour, who is one day to be our Judge, and who is enabling us to bear His presence then, by imparting it to us in measure now. A thick black veil is spread between this world and the next. We mortal men range up and down it, to and fro, and see nothing. There is no access through it into the next world. In the Gospel this veil is not removed; it remains, but every now and then marvellous disclosures are made to us of what is behind it. At times we seem to catch a glimpse of a Form which we shall hereafter see face to face.

Fortunately, churches soon opened for visits to the Blessed Sacrament in the Tabernacle, with strictly limited occupancy. But for Lent and Holy Week, and indeed the whole of April, we were without these holy means of preparing for the sight of Our Lord, His judgment, and eternity! If we take it seriously, that these Sacraments are the outward means for us to receive God's grace, those 49 (forty-nine) days, from March 18 through May 5 were a great gap in the time we have on this earth to prepare ourselves for that great, awesome, terrible day. It reminds me of the line from St. Thomas More's "Godly Meditation": not just those days but other days we've lost through our own fault: "To buy the time again, that I before have lost . . . "

Image Credit (Public Domain): Fra Angelico's The Last Judgment, Winged Altarpiece (c. 1435-1440)