In reading a recent article in a periodical I regularly peruse, I came across an interesting quotation by the late Cardinal John Henry Newman. I recall having come across this sentence before, but it has been some time since I saw it and thought about it. Newman said, “To live is to change, and to be perfect is to have changed often.” It fits Newman and it fits our own times. Let’s first look at who Newman was and then look at the times in which we live.
One publication I consulted calls Newman “the 19th century most important English-speaking Roman Catholic theologian.” I would not disagree. Born in London at the turn of the 19th century (1801), Newman grew up an Anglican---the Church of England. Newman was a studious boy and enrolled at Oxford by the time most Americans are still in high school. It was evident he was a gifted student. He graduated in 1821 and within a year was named a Fellow at Oriel College, arguably the premier college of the Oxford college system.
In 1824 Newman was ordained an Anglican priest and, in addition to his duties as tutor at Oriel College, he performed pastoral duties at one of the parishes in Oxford. Newman became involved in the famous “Oxford Movement,” the beginning of which is usually dated 1833. Briefly we can say the Oxford Movement was a church renewal or revitalization time. Newman offered significant leadership as an Anglican priest and Oxford theologian.
Newman’s self-reflection and extensive readings in the early church theologians helped him open to and finally convert to the Roman Catholic Church in 1845. He was living out the quotation with which this inspirational reflection began. His life was being changed. To live is to change. In 1846 he was ordained in Rome as a Catholic priest. He spent the rest of his life working for various causes until his death in 1890.
For a good period of this Catholic phase of his life, he was in Birmingham. As a visiting professor, it was there I ran into memories of his presence. I began to learn more about his life. I had clearly encountered his reputation as a scholar of the Christian Church. But I don’t think I had much of a sense of his pastoral and service side of his ministry. I can appreciate that very much.
When I read his one-liner again, I felt an immediate connection. In my most recent book, Exception to the Rule, my co-authors and I borrow a term from the military to describe our current world. The term is an acronym, VUCA. VUCA stands for volatile, uncertain, complex and ambiguous. That certainly describes the world as I see it and, I’m sure, the way many of our college students and young people in general experience our world. Our world does seem more unstable than it was when I was a kid and a college student.
And even in those days for me---in the 1960s---life could be crazy. As I read religious history, it does seem like there is always a dance between chaos and order (or creation). Evolution seeks some kind of order, but order is usually under a threat of the chaotic. The creativity called for is not always understood or known how to achieve. This is what I would give focus to cope with VUCA.
VUCA is the way change invades our contemporary life. And indeed, to live is to change. Change is built into the system. The cells in our bodies are constantly going through change. We watch change in our natural world. I love autumn when the leaves change colors and then fall to the earth to decay and re-set the process for spring’s green leaves.
Sometimes I think people expect spirituality to be stable---perhaps the antidote to all the change. But this is actually fools’ gold. I think change is spiritually built into the system as well. It is easy to recall the words of invitation Jesus extends to the disciples-to-be. “Follow me” was his typical call. A call to repentance is always a call to change---change orientation and change direction. He told them if they were to follow him, they would have to deny their old way of life and take up a new way. And that way might well lead to some suffering and a kind of death. Even though we might not literally die as a disciple---become a martyr---we will have to die to the things of this world.
It may seem like the cost of change is too high to pay, but in fact not to pay the price is to opt for a chaotic and, finally, deadly way of living. I think this is the genius of Newman’s sentence. If we truly want to live, we will have to change. Change is inevitable. Change invites creativity. In fact, the act of creation itself is a form of change. This is true even for God who began the creative process as the Genesis story narrates.
I like Newman’s parting shot. To be perfect requires that we change often. I doubt he meant perfect as no sin. The way he uses it, perfection is a kind of completion---a fulfillment. And to be fulfilled is to have changed often. Like babies, we begin the spiritual journey. Wisdom and maturity come through paying the cost of change. It’s a developmental pilgrimage. I am willing to pay the cost and to embrace the development.
One publication I consulted calls Newman “the 19th century most important English-speaking Roman Catholic theologian.” I would not disagree. Born in London at the turn of the 19th century (1801), Newman grew up an Anglican---the Church of England. Newman was a studious boy and enrolled at Oxford by the time most Americans are still in high school. It was evident he was a gifted student. He graduated in 1821 and within a year was named a Fellow at Oriel College, arguably the premier college of the Oxford college system.
In 1824 Newman was ordained an Anglican priest and, in addition to his duties as tutor at Oriel College, he performed pastoral duties at one of the parishes in Oxford. Newman became involved in the famous “Oxford Movement,” the beginning of which is usually dated 1833. Briefly we can say the Oxford Movement was a church renewal or revitalization time. Newman offered significant leadership as an Anglican priest and Oxford theologian.
Newman’s self-reflection and extensive readings in the early church theologians helped him open to and finally convert to the Roman Catholic Church in 1845. He was living out the quotation with which this inspirational reflection began. His life was being changed. To live is to change. In 1846 he was ordained in Rome as a Catholic priest. He spent the rest of his life working for various causes until his death in 1890.
For a good period of this Catholic phase of his life, he was in Birmingham. As a visiting professor, it was there I ran into memories of his presence. I began to learn more about his life. I had clearly encountered his reputation as a scholar of the Christian Church. But I don’t think I had much of a sense of his pastoral and service side of his ministry. I can appreciate that very much.
When I read his one-liner again, I felt an immediate connection. In my most recent book, Exception to the Rule, my co-authors and I borrow a term from the military to describe our current world. The term is an acronym, VUCA. VUCA stands for volatile, uncertain, complex and ambiguous. That certainly describes the world as I see it and, I’m sure, the way many of our college students and young people in general experience our world. Our world does seem more unstable than it was when I was a kid and a college student.
And even in those days for me---in the 1960s---life could be crazy. As I read religious history, it does seem like there is always a dance between chaos and order (or creation). Evolution seeks some kind of order, but order is usually under a threat of the chaotic. The creativity called for is not always understood or known how to achieve. This is what I would give focus to cope with VUCA.
VUCA is the way change invades our contemporary life. And indeed, to live is to change. Change is built into the system. The cells in our bodies are constantly going through change. We watch change in our natural world. I love autumn when the leaves change colors and then fall to the earth to decay and re-set the process for spring’s green leaves.
Sometimes I think people expect spirituality to be stable---perhaps the antidote to all the change. But this is actually fools’ gold. I think change is spiritually built into the system as well. It is easy to recall the words of invitation Jesus extends to the disciples-to-be. “Follow me” was his typical call. A call to repentance is always a call to change---change orientation and change direction. He told them if they were to follow him, they would have to deny their old way of life and take up a new way. And that way might well lead to some suffering and a kind of death. Even though we might not literally die as a disciple---become a martyr---we will have to die to the things of this world.
It may seem like the cost of change is too high to pay, but in fact not to pay the price is to opt for a chaotic and, finally, deadly way of living. I think this is the genius of Newman’s sentence. If we truly want to live, we will have to change. Change is inevitable. Change invites creativity. In fact, the act of creation itself is a form of change. This is true even for God who began the creative process as the Genesis story narrates.
I like Newman’s parting shot. To be perfect requires that we change often. I doubt he meant perfect as no sin. The way he uses it, perfection is a kind of completion---a fulfillment. And to be fulfilled is to have changed often. Like babies, we begin the spiritual journey. Wisdom and maturity come through paying the cost of change. It’s a developmental pilgrimage. I am willing to pay the cost and to embrace the development.
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