It takes genuine British humour to tell all that I’ve read in the London Catholic weekly The Tablet on the occasion of the forthcoming beatification of Cardenal Newman to take place at the hands of the pope next September in Birmingham during his official visit to England. The literary genre of the piece could be called ‘heaven fiction’ as it is not quite ‘science fiction’. I summarise.

The good cardinal and convert was quite shy, reserved, humble and simple, and honours and ceremonies did not agree with him, not even the red hat of cardinals; but now in heaven he comes to know that down on earth there is a move to canonise him. He feels curious about it and inquires about the matter from some of the canonised saints who abound in heaven. They explain to him that a certified miracle is needed for him to be declared a blessed, and another to be declared a saint. Formerly three miracles were needed at each stage, but pope John Paul II brought down the number to one in each case, thus facilitating the process so that many saints were canonised in that period in many places. Accordingly, Newman learned that just then down there on earth, and particularly in England where he was best known, there were people who were praying for one such miracle for his beatification, and when one would work, he would be beatified. And then, in course of time, canonised. The point was that the miracle had to take place at his intercession. Else, it was no use. Newman feels interested, starts looking down, and spots a nun who is reciting a prayer with his name on it asking to be cured of some ailment. He feels compassion for the good sister, begins also to feel elated at the thought of being raised to the altars, runs to St Peter and tells him: ‘Look here, Peter. Over here in heaven there are many canonised saints, and now it seems I too could be one of them. Not that I have any ambitions, of course, as here we’re all above those things, but it would always be nice, wouldn’t it? It would be a fine thing for the Church in England. An English saint, and a convert from Protestantism at that. Can’t ask for more. Well, I’ve spotted a nun down there on earth who is making a novena in my honour and every day she asks to be cured of some sickness she is suffering from. I don’t know exactly what it is but it seems to be serious enough and it would do for a miracle. And she is asking for it in my name. The point is you can easily go to the Holy Spirit and ask him to heal that nun, and here I am a blessed! What about it?’ Peter goes to see the Holy Spirit, and the Holy Spirit answers him: ‘I hadn’t noticed that nun, but if you want…’. He gets up and says under his breath: ‘Come, let us lengthen the litany.’

The article goes on to say: ‘The idea that God would demonstrate a saint to be really in heaven by suddenly healing someone’s fatal sickness because the mentioned saint has asked him to do so seems to me so naïve, mean, pretentious, mechanical and manipulative that is does no honour to the Catholic religion while it does confirm the worst prejudices of its enemies. Is this truly the God we believe in? Are there not millions of people who pray every day for the healing of their loved ones, and some are healed and others not? Doesn’t it look as though this whole idea of miracles for canonisation, miraculous cures as part of a public relations exercise, is a mockery for all those millions of believers who are not asking for a canonisation in their prayers? In the case of John Henry Newman, for instance, could this not convert his imminent beatification into something truly embarrassing? For all we know about him we can safely say that Newman had (or should we say ‘has’?) no desire to be presented as a saint. He hesitated enough to accept the cardinalate. How is it that he now becomes ready to collaborate with all this process from his place in heaven? In Rome they used to say some years ago that the reason his canonisation process was not going faster was that the great majority of English Catholics were not asking with sufficient eagerness for the necessary miracle. If there is some truth in this, I suspect it is because the great majority of English Catholics share my scepticism. They probably believe that to unite his name to such an attitude is degrading him. It defeats its purpose. Newman deserved something better.’
(Clifford Longley, The Tablet 9.1.2010)

This quotation goes with my own apologies to the soon new blessed. I remind him that in our exercises on formal preaching as seminarians I used to choose passages from his sermons to memorise and to deliver before the whole class with proper gestures and intonation as a practice for future preaching from the pulpit. His exquisite English and his sharp arguments helped in the practice. That is Newman’s true character.

In the same article in The Tablet, the author mentions there are no less than five recent popes in the process of being canonised: Pius IX, Pius XII, John XXIII, Paul VI, and John Paul II, and adds pointedly: ‘The papacy begins to take on the appearance of a mutual admiration society.’ It’s almost, I canonise my predecessor so that my successor may canonise me. And he adds with another touch of dry humour: ‘What have poor Leo XIII, Benedict XV, and Pius XI done not to be canonised? They are the only recent popes to be omitted from the waiting list. Are they not too in heaven?’ – All this can be said in The Tablet. At the end he adds: ‘If the Church does not change, that’s not because she is not told.’