Here is a painting of the young Anglican priest, John Henry Newman (1801-90). Scroll down a bit to read his well-known poem, Lead Kindly Light. Perhaps you'll recognize the words as lyrics to a much-loved hymn.
Newman wrote about the circumstances surrounding the poem's composition—a time of his grave sickness (perhaps typhoid fever) fear, pain and emotional confusion while detained in Italy, away from home. The poem is a timely prayer for us, living now through these long days of global sickness and suffering.
"Before starting from my inn, I sat down on my bed and began to sob bitterly. My servant, who had acted as my nurse, asked what ailed me. I could only answer, 'I have a work to do in England.' I was aching to get home, yet for want of a vessel I was kept at Palermo for three weeks. I began to visit the churches, and they calmed my impatience, though I did not attend any services. At last I got off in an orange boat, bound for Marseilles. We were becalmed for a whole week in the Straits of Bonifacio, and it was there that I wrote the lines, Lead Kindly Light, which have since become so well known."
Lead, kindly Light, amid th' encircling gloom,
Lead Thou me on;
The night is dark, and I am far from home,
Lead Thou me on.
Keep Thou my feet, I do not ask to see
The distant scene; one step enough for me.
I was not ever thus, nor prayed that Thou
Shouldst lead me on;
I loved to choose and see my path; but now
Lead Thou me on.
I loved the garish day; and, spite of fears,
pride ruled my will: remember not past years.
So long Thy power hath blest me, sure it still
Will lead me on
O'er moor and fen, o'er crag and torrent, till
The night is gone,
And with the morn those angel faces smile,
Which I have loved long since, and lost a while.
A few thoughts. In the first verse, Newman is addressing God as Light. Like the Hebrews who were led by a pillar of fire through the Sinai, he asks to be led through his personal night, which presses in all around him. We can feel his loneliness. He asks God to secure him through that darkness. He doesn't ask to see the end of the journey (which is not just geographical, but interior). We might be reminded of the AA dictum, "One day at a time."
The second verse is a profound expression of repentance for past errors. He spells it out: having no thought of God, his calling the shots, his arrogance. A garish life is showy, crude, wasteful and excessive. He asks simply for God to forget all of that. Repentance means, to turn.
In the final verse, Newman shares that he knows (hindsight is 20/20) that God has upheld him all along and that he trusts God will continue to do so. "Moor, fen, crag and torrent" are not simply geographical features he'll traverse getting back to England, but inner challenges. And he knows that when he has come out the other side of this turbulent time, which he likens to a morning, he will encounter angel faces. But Newman understood human friendship better than many. These are the angel faces he has in mind. Thinking of heavenly angel faces after death is too facile. Newman wrote in another place about friendship:
"The best preparation for loving the world at large and loving it deeply and wisely, is to cultivate our friendship and affection towards those who are immediately about us."Perhaps coronavirus will teach us something new about friendship.
