Leonie Caldecott, an English Catholic friend of mine, is singing tomorrow at Cardinal Newman’s beatification Mass. We e-mailed tonight about her thoughts the night before in anticipation. At first, in the spirit of truth, she was thoroughly human and admitted: “I am worrying I won’t sleep for excitement, and then mess up tomorrow because I am tired! (we got up very early this morning too, to go and rehearse in Birmingham).”
But she also emailed:
I am also very aware of how close God is to us as we gather around His new Beatus . . . . So there is a feeling of delight, almost humour, at the busy human dimension of our preparations, the ups and downs; the background each of us brings to this momentous day, so long awaited by those who love John Henry Newman, not to mention his twenty-first-century pope, so influenced by him.We are singing in a choir of 2000 people (with a Schola of 200, of which I am, unbelievably, one). There is something very beautiful about all these people—children, young people, and every age up from that, as well as some in wheel-chairs. We have come from all over Great Britain to be here. To sing for Jesus, to surround the Holy Father with our voices. In a fanciful moment I think of the Wilton Diptych, with its group of Angels clustering around Our Lady and Jesus as she offers His foot for adoration to King Richard. I think of our country: the Dowry of Mary. I hope we can offer a small addition to that Dowry when we sing tomorrow, celebrating the first English Beatus since the Reformation. A very English Saint, but a man relevant to the Universal Church, to the Church in this specific moment of history. I think—I hope—I will feel proud of my country, as well as my faith, tomorrow morning.
But, in good humor—or humour, and some genuine worry—Leoni finishes: “If I wake up in time and don’t miss the bus!”
Kathryn Jean Lopez is editor-at-large of National Review Online .
