Three Minutes with Newman
The Dream of Gerontius Part I: Death and Prayers for the Dead
August 7, 2024
Gerontius in Greek means “Old man,” and that’s the state we find him in at the opening of the poem. Gerontius is “near to death,” but it’s actually death that is near to him, “knocking his dire summons at my door.” This masterful poem is St. John Henry Newman’s meditation on the journey to God that begins at death, and this first part reflects on that dreaded beginning. Through Gerontius, Newman shows us the importance of prayer now and at the hour of our death.
It’s no accident that the opening words are an address to Jesus and then Mary. For the soul in love with God, prayer is the first instinct. And for the soul in trouble, as we know from experience, when we see many people who don’t actively believe in God turn to him in distress. Sometimes whole nations experience waves of conversion in times of trial, as we saw following the September 11, 2001 terrorist attacks in the United States.
Gerontius also petitions for prayer. “Pray for me, my friends” he repeats in the first section, at once affirming his belief in the power of prayer and for prayer for the dying and dead – all “who ha[ve] not strength to pray.” The “Assistants,” his friends, petition a litany of saints and angels, knowing that the whole family of God is his family and they are happy to plead for him. This is the communion of saints at play, the charity of the members of Christ’s Mystical Body.
In prayer, there is abandonment. In approaching death, Gerontius knows he can no longer rely on himself. Newman describes the overpowering sense of loss and finality at man’s death. In the face of the nothingness of death and unbecoming of himself, Gerontius has no defense:
“I can no more; for now it comes again, / That sense of ruin, which is worse than pain, / That masterful negation and collapse / Of all that makes me man; as though I bent / Over the dizzy brink / Of some sheer infinite descent; / Or worse, as though / Down, down for ever I was falling through / The solid framework of created things, / And needs must sink and sink / Into the vast abyss.”
In this bleak condition, what can Gerontius do but go to God? Figuratively and literally. In prayer and in action. The late author and Protestant pastor Timothy Keller liked to say that there is only one requirement in approaching God: “all you need is need.”
Like little children, we too want to come to the Lord with need, to come to him with everything. In his homily “A Life of Prayer,” St. Josemaria, “saint of the ordinary,” urged everyone to “…aspire to become contemplative souls, in the street, in the midst of our work, by maintaining a constant conversation with our God and not breaking it off at any time of the day. If we really want to be loyal followers of our Master, this is the only way.”
Gerontius’ friends are certainly these sort of contemplative souls. We can tell by the way they pray. Toward the end of the first section, we read, “Rescue him, O Lord, in this his evil hour,
/ As of old so many by Thy gracious power:—” and they go on to list God’s salvation of Noah, Abraham, Isaac, Job, Moses and so on. In other words, “Lord, you saved Isaac with the sacrificial lamb, rescued Noah from the flood, brought Moses across the Red Sea – obviously you have the power to rescue Gerontius – will you not do something to help!?” Here is the boldness, intimacy and knowledge the Father expects only from those who are called his children.
Part 1 ends with the words of the Priest, which begin “Go forth upon thy journey, Christian soul!” Up until this point, the mood has been dark, grim, despite the holy petitions. But the mood shifts. Death is not the end; it is a passage into the next part of the journey, which also must be accompanied by prayer. It’s a reminder to us that prayer is conversation with God and it continues throughout our whole life and into the next. As we think of our family and friends who have passed through the veil of death, we accompany them by praying. It’s our way of life, our first instinct and our last breath. It’s what marks us as Christians.
