[In the following essay, Sullivan discusses Newman's philosophical presuppositions and summarizes the major aims of his theological method as defined in his Essay on the Development of Doctrine.]

Newman was neither naive nor unduly optimistic in articulating his philosophical theology of development. He was aware of the constant need for renewal in Church life. He speaks of ‘real perversions and corruptions … often not so unlike externally to the doctrine from which they come, as are changes which are consistent with it and true developments’. And he is quick to add that ‘corruption in religion is the refusal to follow the course of doctrine as it moves on, and an obstinacy in the notions of the past’.¹ It is important to note that in the preface to the later 1878 edition of the Essay on the Development of Doctrine he speaks of important alterations—not in its matter, but in the arrangements of its parts and in the text.

Newman's method entailed a philosophical approach to questions of theology and doctrine. For example, when he speaks of an idea we have to keep in mind that for him an idea was something living and real. It lives insofar as it is received by the mind. It is real insofar as it embodies a claim to be true. Thus Christianity is an idea which is real and living. An idea is not objective in the sense that it is one thing, one reality, or one fact grasped once and for all time. It is not simply one mind taking in an idea from its objective base on a one to one relationship of subject to object, a theory of knowledge. An idea in Newman's thought has a lot of complexity and a lot of interaction between what is known and who knows it. So he defines the idea as that which ‘represents an object or supposed object’ as ‘commensurate with the sum total of its possible aspects, however they may vary in the separate consciousness of individuals; and in proportion to the variety of aspects under which it presents itself to various minds is its force and depth, and the argument for its reality’.² He says that there is ‘no one aspect deep enough to exhaust the contents of a real idea, no one term or proposition which will serve to define it; though of course one representation of it is more just and exact than another, and though when an idea is very complex, it is allowable for the sake of convenience to consider its distinct aspects as if separate ideas’.³ Christianity is such an idea and the real reason for his Essay on the Development of Doctrine. It is the idea which above all grows gradually into a body of thought. Part of the process involving many minds is to bring the complex notion of Christianity into consistency and form. This phase of the development signifies ‘the germination and maturation of some truth on a large mental field’. But to be authentic development all aspects of an idea assembled together ‘constitute its ultimate shape’ and really belong to the idea from which they start.⁴ He makes the point that the development of an idea can be a matter of a longer or shorter period of time. And this development, e.g. Christianity, can be influenced or modified by the context in which it is lived or by the circumstances which surround it.

Another dimension of Newman's thought is the matter of truth and certitude. It was in the Essay on the Development of Doctrine where he used the language of finding evidence of truth. He speaks of a ‘collection of weak evidences’ which ‘makes up a strong evidence’.⁵ This method of proof which Newman uses as a very important part of his apologetical methodology is called a convergence of probabilities. For him the use of reason in the service of faith is not that of scholasticism. By that I mean it is not a straightforward deductive line of rigorous syllogistic reasoning. He used and refined the method of converging probabilities. To illustrate this method of reasoning he compared it to ‘a cable which is made up of a number of separate threads, each feeble, yet together as sufficient as an iron rod’. He liked this mechanistic analogy because in mechanics ‘all display is carefully avoided, and the weight is ingeniously thrown in a variety of directions, upon supports which are distinct from or independent of each other’.⁶ As Ian Ker notes, by 1853 the term ‘assent’ had acquired a firm place in Newman's philosophical vocabulary. Assent follows proof by means of an act of the will. Reason says that a proposition ought to be believed and is presented to our free will which accepts or rejects it. Hence in religious matters faith is not a conclusion from premisses. It is the result of an act of the will following a conviction that to believe is a duty. Assent does not admit of degrees nor does certainty. Certainty is an assent of the intellect to assent as an act of the will. His epistemology rests on proof out of a convergence of probabilities leading to assent which leads to certainty. For him this is the best explanation of how faith and reason relate. He refined this relationship through the years, particularly in his famous Grammar of Assent (1870). But for our purpose such basic understanding will suffice.

Much has been said and contested over how to interpret Newman's intellectual basis for his work on the development of doctrine. Was he thinking of development in terms of how the mind and conscience of the individual develop? Was he thinking of the world in which he lived, influenced by the immediate context of life at Oxford? Or was he working out a larger vision of life and the human condition? Some have even suggested that his image of development was derived from his own personal development, an autobiographical paradigm. Others feel that the model of organic evolution—evolution in a straight line—provided the model for his work on development of doctrine. Such academic exchanges will undoubtedly go on. We are concerned here to remind the Churches that John Henry Newman's intellectual and spiritual pilgrimage hold valuable insights for the ecumenical movement. He wrestled with problems which are still with us. We saw something of this in the first chapter. However, with his notion of development he more directly offers valuable insights for ecumenical efforts to reconstitute the visible, credible unity of the Churches. However commonplace it is to speak of the scandal of a divided Christendom proclaiming a gospel of reconciliation, it is nonetheless truly scandalous. We need a way of doing theology together. Even more we need a perception of future church unity which is not a fantasy of returning to the past, to a supposed ‘golden age’ of Christian unity. Our perception ought to be one which enables us to envisage a richer unity than ever before, one born out of centuries in which the Holy Spirit continued to distribute gifts and graces despite schisms and heresies and the malpractices of separated Churches. As we come together we bring gifts and graces with us, enriching our new unity in Christ. Such a perception opens us to the ongoing work of the Holy Spirit. And this has practical value for ecumenists who are concerned about the reluctance and hesitancy of the Churches to receive the ecumenical movement. It also enables us to work towards the resolution of Church dividing issues such as the ordination of women.

Elsewhere I have referred to the question of reception as a new factor in the ecumenical movement.⁷ The unity of the Churches in their inner denominational life and in their relationships with one another very much depends on how we keep a spirit of reception alive. Here I understand ‘reception’ to mean a spirit of openness to receive the newness of life offered by the Spirit to the Churches. It also means fidelity to the Tradition of the Church through the ages. This might mean the non-reception of something proposed for the Churches to take into their system. For some Churches there is difficulty with episcopacy as it is theologically understood by other Churches. And we know how tentative the question of ordaining women to priesthood is felt to be in some Churches, nothing short of impossible in others. We need some legitimate flexibility in how we discern and understand Tradition. Nicholas Lash speaks of such in Newman on Development. He says: ‘One of the factors that has contributed most powerfully to the striking convergence, in recent years, of Catholic and Protestant positions … has been the recovery of a far richer, more flexible, and more traditional concept of tradition.’⁸ Lash, referring to Newman's Essay on the Development of Doctrine, says that it is ‘permissible to recognize, in the Essay, the elements of a theology of tradition which has today proved acceptable’ despite a notable residue of Church unity problems to be solved.⁹ Elsewhere Lash notes one of the weaknesses of the Essay lies in ‘its espousal of a concept of the unity of the Church which cannot acknowledge “ecclesial reality in any denomination other than the Roman Catholic Church”.’¹⁰ Today, Lash notes, when we think of the development of all Christianity, we cannot expect Newman ‘to cast much direct light’ on our contemporary ecumenical problems. Still, we have to remember that Newman was dealing with the idea of Christianity as an instance of a living and real idea facing society at large, viz. the meaning of the revelation and self-disclosure of God in our history.¹¹ While Newman's light may be indirect lighting it is essential because it is examining the revelation underlying Church doctrine. Such examination remains an essential in the quest for Church unity. Newman provides that ‘large mental field’ on which to work through some of our ecumenical problems. Lash confirms this when he says: ‘Any “theory” of doctrinal development depends, in the last resort, upon the conception of revelation that underlies it.’¹² Revelation must be the common concern of Christians. It is not so odd then to turn to Newman for whatever light his theory of the development of doctrine can throw on our common path to Christian unity, the response of faith to what God has revealed in Christ.

Before moving on to a reflection on the Essay itself there is another problem. Stated simply it asks whether Newman's theory is not his way of saying that development is really continuing revelation. Assuredly the language of development is new and bears little resemblance to the language of the original revelation. Since language derives from experience, it would seem that either development is a new revelation of some truth or completely divorced from revelation and hence not doctrinal development at all. Newman would answer this difficulty by saying that in some sense there are ‘new doctrines’, but they are part of the original deposit of faith. Newman was clarifying this matter as late at 1868. Thanks to Stephen Dessain an unpublished paper by Newman written in 1868 confirms this sense of new doctrines which are nonetheless part of the original deposit of faith. He says that such doctrines are not simply deductions made by theologians who are able ‘to reduce them to their relations to other doctrines, or give them a position in the general system of theology’. He says immediately: ‘To such theologians they appear as deductions from the creed or formulized deposit, but in truth are original parts of it, communicated per modum unius to the apostles’ minds, and brought to light in the minds of the Council, under the temporary illumination of Divine Grace.’¹³ Earlier he had described such development as ‘the germination and maturation of some truth, or apparent truth on a large mental field’. He would say that biblical revelation is based on the principle of development inasmuch as we have to interpret the prophecies and types of the Old Testament in the light of Christ. We give meaning, the meaning of fulfillment to the text and the type. Following on he would say that the utterances of Our Lord and the apostles are parallel to these earlier Old Testament prophecies which are also subject to development because they are to be fulfilled in Christ. Newman would say that the whole of Scripture is written on the principle of development. This of course rests on the analogy of how prophecy is fulfilled in both Old and New Testaments.

Lash criticizes this use of the analogy as having only limited value in proving later stages in the course of revelation. As he sees it, Newman never satisfactorily resolved the problem which would deny the character of continuing revelation to doctrines which have been developed later in the Church's history. Moreover it has left Newman open to misinterpretation in this matter of development and continuing revelation.¹⁴ In his second letter to Abbé Jager, Newman is quite clear that the Church has ‘the power to develop its fundamental Creed into Articles of religion, according to time and circumstance …’. However, he says that ‘to develop is not to create’. From this it would seem that he did not identify development with a new revelation. Still, as Lash says: ‘It is not difficult to see that the broad theological perspective within which Newman is operating is closer to the theology of revelation and tradition in Dei Verbum (the Vatican II Constitution on Divine Revelation) than it is to preconciliar neoscholastic catholic theology.’¹⁵

So far in this [essay] we have been clearing the ground of some of Newman's philosophical and theological presuppositions in order to take an honest look at his Essay on the Development of Doctrine which we will simply refer to as the Essay. We will look at the aim of the Essay and some general features of his thinking as we read through it.

First, the aim of the Essay is basically defensive in accord with his apologetical methodology. Positively he is concerned to present a new view of the relationship between contemporary Christianity and the Church of the early Fathers. He deals with this relationship specifically in terms of Roman Catholicism. Lash forewarns us in Change in Focus that ‘those who read the Essay expecting to find a systematic and unified theory of doctrinal development, in the twentieth-century sense, either find what is not there, or else are disappointed’.¹⁶ Lash points out that while today we may take development in Church doctrine, life, structure for granted, Newman could not. He had to work from the general fact of development to offer an hypothesis which would serve to demonstrate that change is part of life and not every change a corruption. ‘He is here … arguing negatively; making out a persuasive apologetic case for the claim that the existing doctrine and practice of the Roman Church are not necessarily “corruptions”.’¹⁷ He also distinguished carefully development from an ‘enlargement’ of doctrine. For Newman, development has to be a ‘harmony of the whole’ which leaves the basic doctrine what it was all along. When we promulgate a new truth it must be a harmony with and cognate to the old truth implicit in it and related to it. In his Apologia Pro Vita Sua he applies this to the thorny problem of infallibility. He says: ‘Infallibility cannot act outside of a definite circle of thought, and it must in all its decisions, or definitions … profess to be keeping within it … The new truth which is promulgated, if it is to be called new, must at least be homogenous, cognate, implicit, viewed relatively to the old truth.’¹⁸ Infallibility then is about judgement and decision making; it is not inspiration, revelation or new information.

However necessary and valuable the argument from harmony and logical coherence (not logical deduction) another norm is necessary to distinguish a true development from a false development. A development may be formally logical but nonetheless a corruption of the original idea. There must be intelligibility and coherence. There must also be external authority which authenticates the development, keeping it in line with the tradition of the community. And there must be reception of this development as official teaching by the community as a whole. Newman was to write an article in 1859 On Consulting the Faithful in Matters of Doctrine. He revised it in 1871. It is important to remember what John Coulson says in his introduction to his edition of the article: ‘This work is fundamental not only to a fuller understanding of Newman's theory of doctrinal development, but to an appreciation of the importance he attaches to the laity in his theology.’¹⁹ More to our present point, Newman was relating the notions of authority and reception to supplement his concept of coherence and harmony as constitutive of true development. This enables us to see his own developed understanding of Tradition as constituted by Church authority and reception on the part of the faithful members of the Church as a whole. Yves Congar confirms this when he says that ‘Newman … made a decisive contribution to the problem of the relationship between magisterium and history in tradition.’ Congar prefaces this remark saying that Newman's idea of development ‘became an inner dimension of that tradition’.²⁰ By his insistence that there be a normative principle, viz. Tradition, Newman was careful to distinguish true developments from false ones. Let us look at this more closely as his theory unfolds in the Essay.

General description: Newman considered particular developments taking place over a longer or shorter period of time. The time factor depends on how long an idea takes to be ‘brought into consistency and form …’ according to the time it takes to achieve that ‘harmony of the whole’ of which he speaks. He also envisages the development as taking place ‘on a large mental field’. This means that development ‘is carried on through and by means of communities of men and their leaders and guides …’ (Essay 1.1.5).²¹ Moreover, development must be ‘like an investigation worked out on paper, in which each successive advance is a pure evolution from a foregoing [idea]’ (1.1.5). When we apply development to theology’ ‘the mind may be employed in developing the solemn ideas, which it has hitherto held implicitly and without subjecting them to its reflecting and reasoning powers’ (1.2.9). Thus, ‘if we turn our attention to the beginnings of Apostolic teaching … we shall find ourselves unable to fix an historical point at which the growth of doctrine ceased, and the rule of faith was once for all settled’ (2.1.12). He concludes that ‘Christian doctrine admits of formal, legitimate, and true developments … contemplated by its Divine Author’ (2.2.17). He argues for the need of an infallible developing authority in matters of Christian doctrine. Since Christians are subject to bias, controversies arising from prejudices of birth, education, place, personal attachment and party politics, ‘it can hardly be maintained that in matter of fact a true development carries with it always its own certainty even to the learned, or that history, past or present, is secure from the possibility of a variety of interpretations’ (2.2.1).

It is worth noting that Newman returns to his earlier notion of a prophetical tradition, though ‘from a very different point of view from that which I am taking at present’. He describes this tradition as ‘that body of teaching … in various forms and measures of truth … partly being a comment, partly an addition upon the articles of the Creed’ (2.2.2). From this position he continues to argue for a rule of faith ‘necessary for arranging and authenticating these various expressions and results of Christian doctrine’. In Newman's thought the need for a rule of faith arises from the need to distinguish minor points of belief from major truths of faith. He speaks of ‘greater and lesser truths’, the former necessary to believe, the latter a matter of pious belief. He asks: ‘How are we to discriminate the greater from the less, the true from the false?’ (2.2.2). For him the answer lies in the doctrine of the infallibility of the Church by which he meant ‘the power of deciding whether this, that, and a third, and any number of theological or ethical statements are true’ (2.2.4). It is beyond our scope to pursue his argument for infallibility in detail which he does in the remainder of chapter two of the Essay. He devotes chapter three to the historical arguments on behalf of the development of doctrine using his method or proof from the ‘convergence of probabilities’, i.e. all the evidence taken together. He justified this by saying that ‘the less exact methods of reasoning may do His work as well as the more perfect …’ (3.2.2). Chapter four of the Essay consists in illustrations which substantiate the evidence for the development from imperfect to ever growing evidence which delays the process while inferences and judgements are being made and reasons ‘producible to account for the delay’ (4.1.2). The second part of the Essay begins with chapter five in which he contrasts genuine developments with what he calls ‘corruptions’ of Christian faith. This chapter is the centerpiece of the Essay for it is here that he names seven tests or characteristics to distinguish true developments from corruptions. It is important to look at all seven in some detail. It may prove helpful to list them in their simple form:

1. preservation of type;

2. continuity of principles;

3. a unitive, assimilative power;

4. logical sequence in terms of faith—not reason by itself;

5. the feeling there is a future to be anticipated and the development is faithful to what has been anticipated;

6. development conserves antecedent developments as an addition which illustrates and corroborates the body of thought from which it proceeds;

7. duration, persistence, or the chronic vigour of what has been developed.

All seven notes are important in the development of an idea because through them the unity and identity of what is being developed can be ascertained and accounted as one and the same reality. Let us look at each one in greater detail.

The preservation of type. Here Newman uses an analogy borrowed from physical development, not unlike that used by Vincent of Lerins in the fifth century with reference to Christian doctrine. Newman quotes him: ‘Let the soul's religion imitate the law of the body, which as years go on, develops indeed and opens out its due proportions, and yet remains identically what it was. Small are a baby's limbs, a youth's are larger, yet they are the same’ (5.1.1). Later, in chapter six of the Essay, Newman will apply the preservation of type to contemporary Catholicism. He does this by way of an historical analysis of the Church in the first six centuries as it contended with various heresies such as the Donatist, the Nestorian, and the Monophysite. In treating this first note of development he says that ‘one cause of corruption in religion is the refusal to follow the course of doctrine as it moves on, and an obstinacy in the notions of the past’ (5.1.8).

Continuity of principles. Here he works analogically from mathematics. ‘Doctrines stand to principles as mathematical definitions to the axioms and postulates of mathematics’ (5.2.1). Principles are abstract and general; doctrine deals with facts. Doctrines grow and are enlarged while principles remain permanent. For example, consideration for the poor is a doctrine of the Church. It is a principle when one considers the Church as a political power. Doctrines are developed by the operation of principles. If you are an Epicurean, belief in the transitory nature of the world leads to the doctrine of pleasure; if you are an ascetic, it leads to mortification. ‘A development, to be faithful, must retain both the doctrine and the principle with which it started (5.2.3). When principles are lost, corruptions set in. ‘Thus as to nations, when we talk of the spirit of a people being lost, we do not mean that this or that act has been committed … but that certain lines of thought or conduct by which it has grown great are abandoned’ (5.2.6). In this way Newman makes a case for the continuity of principles assuring true development. It was natural for him to contrast the Reformation with Catholicism by way of illustration (7.1.4.7). He cites the continuity of Catholicism with the Incarnation in its ability to hold together faith, dogma, theology, sacraments, Scripture, grace, asceticism, sin and mortification (7.1.3-4). The Catholic Church holds all these principles together in continuity with the Incarnation, its central truth and principle.

The power of assimilation. Here the analogy is with the physical world whereby a particular life grows by taking into its system, into its very substance, some external material. In such a process two elements become one. He notes that this is sometimes an effort as in the case of feeding animals ‘who lie torpid for a time under the contest between the foreign substance and the assimilating power’ (5.3.1). When this analogy is applied to the realm of ideas or doctrines he describes the process as first polemical, then seemingly eclectic, and finally unitive. As he says, ‘a living idea becomes many, yet remains one’ (5.3.2). Again he says: ‘The stronger and more living is an idea, that is, the more powerful hold it exercises on the minds of men, the more able it is to dispense with safeguards, and trust to itself against the dangers of corruption’ (5.3.5). The Church in its long history takes into its system many things good and bad. Its healthy constitution enables it to sort out chaff from wheat, what is dispensable from what is indispensable. Here again we have to keep in mind Newman's special reference to the Church of Rome which he says ‘can consult expedience more freely than other bodies, as trusting to her living tradition …’ (5.3.5).

Logical sequence. It is hardly necessary to say that when Newman refers to logic in the context of development he is not thinking of formal syllogistic logic whereby the mind progresses from one judgement to another until a rational conclusion is reached. Rather he is referring to a logic which grows out of the development of one's life. There is an original idea, e.g. Christianity. It remains in the mind, becomes familiar and distinct and colours all other relationships. As he says, ‘a body of thought is gradually formed without his recognizing what is going on within him … And thus he is led to regard as consequence … what hitherto he has discerned by a moral perception and adapted on sympathy; and logic is brought in to arrange and inculcate what no science was employed in gaining’ (5.4.1). It is only afterward that we see a true development, not as deterioration, error or confusion, but as something natural and harmonious. Perhaps an instance of such logical sequence can be found in the New Testament (Acts 10:47-48) where Peter, referring to the experience of the gentile Cornelius and his companions, says: ‘Can anyone forbid water for baptizing these people who have received the Holy Spirit just as we have. And he commanded them to be baptized in the name of Jesus Christ.’ This true development, a logical outcome of the original teaching, viz. incorporation into Christ is by water and the Holy Spirit. Such logical sequence involves faith and not only the logical use of reason.

Anticipation of a future. Newman continues to speak of an idea as living, i.e. influential and effective. It makes things happen. It assures development ‘which is to come, though vague and isolated’, and which ‘may occur from the very first, though a lapse of time be necessary to bring them to perfection’ (5.5.1). He uses an analogy from the history of great men who from childhood or boyhood displayed a penchant for what afterwards became history. Charmingly he says: ‘The child Cyrus mimics a despot's power, and St Athanasius is elected bishop by his playfellows’ (5.5.2). He applies this note to history extensively. In relation to Christian doctrine he refers the Incarnation and Resurrection to certain Catholic practices of venerating relics, the cult of Mary and the saints, the ideals of martyrdom and virginity. And accordingly he brings his erudition of early Church history in support of his position. Chapter ten of the Essay is devoted to some applications of this note—anticipation of a future.

Conservation of the past. ‘A true development … may be described as one which is conservative of the course of antecedent developments being really those antecedents and something besides them: It is an addition which illustrates, not obscures, corroborates, not corrects, the body of thought from which it proceeds …’ (5.6.1). His argument here is not that there be ‘a strict correspondence between the various members of a development’ which is ‘more than we have a right to expect’. He falls back on the analogy of human development. ‘The bodily structure of a grown man is not merely that of a magnified boy’ for ‘manhood is the perfection of boyhood, adding something of its own, yet keeping what it finds’ (Introd., c. 11). He singles out the Catholic practice of the sign of the cross as a development directly related to the doctrine of the Cross. Of course it also serves the doctrine of the Trinity. He devotes a section of chapter eleven to show that there is no real evidence that devotion to the Blessed Virgin obscures the divine glory of her Son. For all this he cites the Church's principle derived from the Incarnation itself: Non amittendo quod erat, sed sumendo quod non erat, i.e. the Word of God became truly human not by ceasing to be what he was (divine) but by assuming what he was not (human). This note which is concerned with conserving the past belongs in a special way to Christianity. He refers to it as having the ‘character of addition’ which is a change ‘real and perceptible, yet without loss or reversal of what was before …’ Rather such change is ‘protective and confirmative’ of what went before (Introd., c. 11).

Chronic vigour. Newman says that corruption is not longstanding, whereas true development endures and stands the test of time. Such changes are persistent while changes that corrupt are transitory (5.7.1). He considers this a general law and in the final chapter of the Essay applies the note of chronic vigour to Christianity. This is a living religion, an energetic religion. It is progressive despite its detractors for ‘it grows and is not overgrown … spreads out, yet it is not enfeebled; it is ever germinating, yet ever consistent with itself’ (1.2.2). I find this seventh characteristic of development most appealing. It is one of the easiest to grasp. It is related to the religious phenomenon in general. It is what Andrew Greeley called ‘the persistence of religion’.²² In the sixties and seventies there was a good deal of talk about people coming of age, not needing faith or a sense of the sacred. Some theologians talked about the ‘death of God’. The secular city was said to be self-contained and sufficient. There is not so much of this sort of talk about in the late eighties and as we begin the final decade of the century.

In concluding this cursory review of the Essay it is important to understand that there can be no simple logical deduction from the seeds of thought and theory provided by Newman. There is no way to draw rigid demonstrable conclusions. This is especially so if we expect these to be directly applicable to some of our contemporary issues, two of which … [are discussed elsewhere]. However, his thought must be reckoned an invaluable source for moving towards the future of the Church's ongoing life.

Nicholas Lash suggests that ‘a fresh examination of Newman's Essay on the Development of Doctrine may prove fruitful, since Newman was one of the first Catholic theologians seriously to attempt to hold in tension the demands of historical consciousness and the Christian conviction that the Gospel of Jesus Christ is irreplaceable and unchangeable’.²³ Lash, a theological scholar of Newman's Essay, is convinced that we must not let Newman's own stress on the hypothetical nature of his work and its failure to test exhaustively the hypothesis against historical data derogate from its contemporary theological value. Lash asks ‘what light can the Essay cast on the significantly different situation in which Christian theology today attempts to come to terms with the problem of change and continuity in Christian doctrine?’²⁴

Thus far we have looked at Newman's efforts towards a more complete understanding of Christian Tradition. Further, we reflected on his apologetic for the development of Christian doctrine. There remains another dimension of his thought to be considered for our purpose. It is often said in ecumenical circles that we need to do theology together. By ‘together’ I would understand a wider need to reflect on our Christian faith together. This of course includes theologians, ecumenists, and church leaders. But it ought to include the whole Christian people who, as members of a community of faith, are called and set apart to declare the wonderful deeds of God who called us out of darkness into his marvellous light (1 Pet 2:9). This ‘togetherness’ is the widest extension of the laos, the whole people who make up the Church. The role of the laity is today an essential issue for the Churches together, though more pressing for some than for others. To approach other urgent issues of faith and order in Church life apart from the role of the laity would amount to an anorexia of faith and future for the Church. It often amounts to what John Coulson calls ‘spiritual apartheid’. We go back to Newman who wrote about this and suffered for it. In 1859, when he wrote his article for The Rambler, he was asking for trouble. The article entitled: On Consulting the Faithful in Matters of Doctrine created an ecclesiastical minefield. Newman took the risk with his usual integrity and courage. It brought him suffering and misunderstanding and earned for him from one of his fellow clergy the designation of being ‘the most dangerous man in England’.

Notes

1. The Development of Doctrine, London: Longmans, Green & Co., 1906. Using this edition I refer to the Essay in the text according to chapter, section, and number, e.g. (5.1.8) with footnote references to the page numbers of this edition, pp. 176-177, for Newman the whole process of Christian Tradition was associated with his understanding of an ‘idea’ as having a life and a history.

2. Ibid. p. 34.

3. Ibid. p. 35.

4. Ibid. p. 38.

5. Ibid. p. 107.

6. As quoted in Ian Ker's Biography, op. cit., pp. 620-623.

7. Cf Ecumenical Trends, vol. 15, no. 7 (July-August 1986), pp. 105-110.

8. Nicholas Lash, Newman On Development, London: Sheed & Ward, 1975, p. 122.

9. Ibid.

10. Nicholas Lash, Change in Focus, London: Sheed & Ward, 1973, p. 91.

11. Ibid. pp. 91-92.

12. Ibid. p. 92.

13. Stephen Dessain provides the background for this hitherto unpublished paper in the Journal of Theological Studies, vol. 9 (1958), pp. 324-335.

14. Change in Focus, op. cit., pp. 92-95.

15. Ibid. p. 92. Revelation, Tradition, Magisterium are cognate terms connoting content, process, expression respectively.

16. Ibid. p. 88.

17. Ibid. p. 89.

18. Apologia, Oxford Edition, London: Henry Frowde, Oxford University Press, 1913, p. 345.

19. On Consulting the Faithful in Matters of Doctrine, ed. by John Coulson with an introduction, London: Geoffrey Chapman, 1961.

20. Yves Congar, Tradition and Traditions, London: Burns & Oates, 1966, pp. 209-211.

21. Because of frequent references to the Essay these are given in the text according to the 1906 edition of Longmans, Green & Co. following the divisions into chapter, section, number, e.g. (1.1.5).

22. Andrew Greeley, The Persistence of Religion, London: SCM Press, 1973. The introduction is well worth reading in relation to Newman's ‘chronic vigour’.

23. Lash, Newman on Development, op. cit. pp. 1-2.

24. Ibid. p.4.