Newman was not a mere tourist or pilgrim during his Mediterranean voyage, rather he was a curious Anglican looking for an "enlargement of mind" and benefit of health. In fact, by tracing the footsteps of the apostles, fathers, and the great saints of Christianity, he sought a personal ecclesial enlargement. 

Newman was interested in the events happening back home and added that the church in England might console herself with the knowledge of having partners in misfortune in Sicily and Italy. Years later, in his Apologia, he recalled what he truly felt: "England was in my thoughts solely, and the news from England came rarely and imperfectly.

As someone who has studied John Henry Newman's writings for years, it was surreal for me to attend his canonization in Rome. I've known for some time now that Newman was interceding for me and my loved ones in heaven, but to have a tangible confirmation of that fact was moving beyond words. 

In a letter to his mother, Newman not only described how the Mediterranean was the seat of the most celebrated empires and events, but also how it had become the center of the lives of the church fathers.

What did John Henry Newman learn from his first journey to Rome in 1833, and how did it affect him? Did he experience what he later called an "enlargement of mind" during this visit to Rome?

In a letter from 1863 to his sister Jemima, John Henry Newman remarked that "a man's life lies in his letters." Equally revealing, perhaps—at least in Newman's case—are the prayers that he composed and recited.

The news finally arrived today. Ever since it was announced in February that Newman would be canonized, we've been waiting eagerly to learn the details of when and how the ceremony would take place.

The place where the educational process unfolds must be a place where all of reality is presented (Giussani, The Risk of Education, 133).

One of the great challenges in Newman scholarship today has to do with making Newman's work more applicable for members of the younger generations, many of whom have never been exposed to his thought and writings.

It's easy to read this account from Scripture and to cast aspersions on Esau. "How could he have been so foolish?" we wonder. "I'd never act that rashly," we tell ourselves. Yet how often in our own lives do we make a similar, yet graver mistake by squandering the gifts of God—in our case, the graces that we receive through the sacraments—in exchange for some lesser good?