Ubi Petrus

I recently finished reading Frank Sheed’s Theology and Sanity.  It is, in short, quintessentially Frank Sheed, delivered with the stark clarity that typifies his writing.  I can’t say for sure that it was his intent, but this book makes a perfect follow-on to his excellent Theology for Beginners.  These two books would serve well as a launching point for anyone interested in dipping their toe into theology.

To put it simply, Sheed doesn’t waste any time qualifying his positions or mincing his words in this book – what is, simply is, and what is not simply is not.  You quickly realize he truly means the word “Sanity” in the title of the book – a proper understanding of the topics presented leads to a more sane understanding of this creation God has made.  Perhaps an illustration is called for:

God, we say, moves the will, which moves the intellect.  But God does not do violence to nature.  He does not force either will or intellect to act against the nature He has given them.  The function of prayer and humility is to to prepare the will that when the impulsion comes from God it is ready to go with that impulsion, with no violence done to its own nature as a will.  The function of evidence and argument is so to prepare the intellect that when it feels the impulsion of the God-moved will, it too will be prepared to co-operate with that impulsion, with no violence to its own nature as an intellect.  It would be outside God’s normal mode of working upon man to move his intellect to an assent for which nothing had prepared it, against which much of its own experience as an intellect might well have predisposed it.

And again, because it is so relevant to the world in which we live today:

Whether this point is grasped or not, a moral code must be founded on something.  A society can accept a moral code without any conscious awareness of its foundation, provided the code is of long standing and not questioned.  But in a generation like ours where everything is questioned, the foundation must be clearly seen; and apart from God the foundation cannot be clearly seen.  The practical result for the average man of our generation is tha twhen he is faced with what his grandparents would have called a temptation, he has nothing to judge it by.  His first reaction is “Why shouldn’t I?”  Conscience may put up a brief resistance; but conscience, as we have seen, is the judgment of our intellect, and it is precisely our intellect that is confused; and in any event our modern man wil have heard half a dozen theories to explain conscience away.  All this is too weak a barrier against any really strong rush of temptation.  From the initial “Why shouldn’t I?” he passes with an uneasiness too slight to affect his decision to “I don’t see why I shouldn’t.”  As we have already seen, this last statement is precise almost to the point of pedantry.  He does not see why he shouldn’t; he does not see anything, because he has turned out the lights, or had them turned out for him:  he is simply conscious of a lot of urges and appetites in the dark, and there is no mistaking their direction.

Sanity is the same no matter what generation.  It is works like this book that help us to remember that only in, with and through God can we keep our wits about us in a world that seems determined to lose theirs.

Okay, I admit it. When I saw this book on the list of possible books for review from Catholic Company I just about jumped out of my seat. I haven’t met a book by Mike Aquilina yet that I haven’t found both intellectually and spiritually stimulating. This one was no different.

It’s a fairly slim volume, tipping the scales at 188 pages including references. A good number of these pages are accented by beautiful artwork by Lea Marie Ravotti; a book on symbols cannot survive without good artwork and this work does not disappoint. I’ve seen a couple of quibbles over the use of a relatively fine font combined with a medium brown ink. When I first opened the book I said, “oh yeah, I see what they’re talking about”. Then I started to read it. In the end analysis I’ll say this: it may take a couple of pages to get used to it, but as long as you’re not trying to read it by candle light by the time you’re out of the Introduction you won’t even notice it. And that’s from someone who is destroying his eyesight by staring at a computer screen for eight to twelve hours a day for a living.

As important as the aesthetic of the book may be, without content it would be a niche intellectual object. Content, however, is not a problem for this book. In fact, I am in complete agreement with the author’s plaintive cry in Chapter 1:

Few of us today, however, can even begin to understand the messages left for us by our ancestors. We have lost our Christian mother tongue – the code of the martyrs – and we are impoverished by the loss. They have become like hieroglyphics, a language that only academic specialists understand. What is worse is that we have forgotten how to think the way these distant ancestors thought, and this has rendered them even more remote from us. Their symbols seem incomprehensible now.

Yet delivering the message was, for them, clearly an urgent matter, a matter of ultimate consequence. To carve or paint or scratch these symbols, they burrowed into the ground and breathed foul air while laboring in dim lamplight. Our ancestors did this so that their message might reach us. We owe them at least the effort of a sympathetic study.

We do indeed, and this volume is an excellent start. By turns intellectual, historical, philosophical, academic and spiritual it lays out for us a world all together too many of us take for granted when we even acknowledge its existence at all. We have, by and large, lost the use of this language and that is only to our detriment.

I can say that within only a page or so of the first symbol explored in this book I was thinking “now there is something I can use with our RCIA class”. The book is not so simple as to be redundant for all but the true patrologists out there, nor is it so complicated as to be over the heads of those with a thinner Christian formation. It is clear that Aquilina is not only comfortable with his subject matter but fluent in it. There is a point at which one becomes sufficiently steeped in a topic that conversing about it no longer requires complex explanations and stiff wording. No, in this topic the author is closer to conversational in tone which makes for a very comfortable reading even as the reader works his way from the author’s words to a quote from a Church Father to a quote from the Bible and back again. It is a rare treat to read a book this informative that is simultaneously this fluid.

In my last review I said I was going to buy a copy of the book for myself since I had received an unbound galley copy; this copy was “the real thing”. This time, though, I’m going one better than before. I’m not buying another copy for myself, I’m buying one for our RCIA director. If you know me, you know it’s a rare thing indeed for me to buy a book for someone else; the last time I did that it was Pope Benedict’s Jesus of Nazareth so Mike Aquilina is in good company here. Does this mean I’d recommend this book to someone else? Absolutely, and for this price it’s an absolute steal given how much you will learn. Buy it, read it, learn something about your faith. Then read it again and learn something else. Yeah, it’s that kind of a book.

This review was written as part of The Catholic Company product reviewer program. Visit The Catholic Company to find more information on Signs and Mysteries-Revealing Ancient Christian Symbols .

Sometimes I feel funny writing a review about books like thisthat have, to some extent, become a type of cultural icon. The then-Cardinal Ratzinger stepping out from behind a door, the Catechism in his hand and his now well-familiar understated smile on his face as the cover shot is now a familiar sight to many. It should come as no surprise that this book covers a wide variety of topics, spanning the range of pretty much every area of Catholic belief. As we continue further into the Benedictine Pontificate many of the topics he covers in this book and how they are covered become more well-known in general, although books like this are equally valuable for the insight into how the Pope both thinks now and has worked in thought through his life. I’d heartily recommend this book to anyone who is interested a not-too-deep but fairly broad insight into the thought of the man who would become Pope Benedict through the years.

Just because, and because it seems like this topic comes up now and again I thought I’d include his reflection on a topic that cannot help but be a hot-button. Even so, you notice right away the now-familiar combination of depth of knowledge, orthodoxy, and pastoral sensitivity – a combination we all would do well to emulate

Thus, for example, in the writings of William of Auvergne we find him making the distinction by which outward and inward communion are connected as are sign and reality. He then explains that the Church would never wish to deprive anyone of that inner communion. When she wields the sword of excommunication, then, according to him, this happens only in order to heal the spiritual communion with this medicine. He then adds a thought that is at the same time consoling and stimulating. He knows, he tells us, that for not a few people the burden of excommunication is as hard to bear as martyrdom. But, he says, very often a person makes more progress in patience and humility as an excommunicate than in the situation when he is outwardly in communion.

That deserves some not-inconsiderable chewing on. The man just makes you think – we are indeed blessed to have him as Pope.

For several days now, no probably more like a couple of weeks now, I’ve been mulling over how to write a review of Christopher West’s newest book, Heaven’s Song. Having gotten an advanced copy through Catholic Company’s reviewer program I felt the need to write a well-thought-out review even more than usual. Those who know me well know this all too easily plays into my proclivity for procrastinating. Then I read this what I hesitate to call a review. You see, it just doesn’t match anything that I read nor anything else I’ve read from Christopher West, and that is just enough to get me to actually move.

This book is a review and overview of a series of Pope John Paul II’s Theology of the Body writings which were not given in his series of audiences on the matter. Why were they not given? It is not because they are overly indulgent or vivid in describing sensitive matter, it is because those audiences are usually populated by everyone from the elderly to young children and the Pope rightly deferred to the parents’ role as the primary educators of their children in this matter. Attention must be paid to the fact that while these writings were not given as part of the audiences they were left available in writing and can now be found in Michael Waldstein’s translation from the original Polish in Man and Woman He Created Them. I suppose calling them “secret” at this point is both a bit of salesmanship and truth as I doubt many have made their way through that tome just yet. West does not, however, just let the writings speak for themselves, he also throughout presents them in less theologically-dense terminology and in a way that can be used readily by anyone in a position to talk about these issues be it as a pastor, consellor or one giving a talk on this subject.

As much as the word “erotic” is thrown around about this book it’s very important to realize at the same time that does not mean “dirty” or “inappropriate”. Briefly glancing at the cover notes on the book and reflecting on what I’ve heard about the Song of Songs I expected this book to be difficult and uncomfortable to read because, well, there are some things people just don’t talk about in polite company. Don’t let that concern stop you though – this is decidedly not something Hugh Heffner would have on his coffee table. In reality, I was surprised at how little the actual act was discussed, and even then only with delicacy and in abstract terms. I was, honestly, waiting for some part of the book to finally cross the line and it simply didn’t come – West remained properly respectful of his subject matter throughout the book.

But let’s get to the nut of the matter – would I recommend this book to others? Absolutely – but not if they’re not ready for the Theology of the Body as a whole. To be honest, I don’t think this is the best book with which to start studying the Theology of the Body – the subject matter is just too delicate and the reader might well be put off and assume the whole series does not show a sufficient deference to human sexuality. Let’s be honest – one does not start talking about dating with a discussion on sex. For those not yet ready for the hardest part of this teaching I would recommend one of Christopher West’s other books. At the same time I would hope people don’t stop there because this book in some ways acts as a capstone to the whole TOB.

To put it simply, should you read it? Yes, a thousand times yes, but only when you’re prepared. At the same time, if you’re like me and have had to struggle with overcoming years and years of screwed up teaching on sex and sexuality be prepared for some uncomfortable reflections on your past life. I’ll admit it, the book was hard to go through sometimes – but only because it reminded me of how far I’ve had to come and how far I still have to go. Perhaps the hardest part of dealing with this book is how positively it deals with the topic of sexuality. In many ways it’s easier, even if less accurate, to deal with it as a “just don’t” subject but TOB reminds us in the most direct terms that this whole area is a gift from God. If we can restore this pure understanding of our sexuality as both gift and calling the impact on society would be simply unbelievable.

This book needs to be on the shelves of all priests, deacons, catechists and anyone who may deal with the area of human sexuality. It is an important piece in the work to recover sexuality from the tailspin into which modern culture has tried to force it and restore to it the respect which it is due as a true gift of God. Finally, I have to agree with Sister Spitfire – since, as part of the review program, I got an unbound galley copy I’ll be buying the, if you will, “real” copy as soon as my book funds allow. I can already thing of several people to whom I will be recommending or lending this book as well. The Theology of the Body is a tremendous gift to the Church and the world as a whole and this book adds to it all in dealing well and respectfully with this most important area.

This review was written as part of The Catholic Company product reviewer program. Visit Catholic Company to find more information on Heaven’s Song.

From The Spirit of the Liturgy:

Of course, external actions – reading, singing, the bringing up of the gifts – can be distributed in a sensible way. By the same token, participation in the Liturgy of the Word (reading, singing) is to be distinguished from the sacramental celebration proper. We should be clearly aware that external actions are quite secondary here. Doing really must stop when we come to the heart of the matter: the oratio. It must be plainly evident that the oratio is the heart of the matter, but that it is important precisely because it provides a space for the actio of God. Anyone who grasps this will easily see that it is not now a matter of looking at or toward the priest, but of looking together toward the Lord and going out to meet him. The almost theatrical entrance of different players into the liturgy, which is so common today, especially during the Preparation of the Gifts, quite simply misses the point. If the various external actions (as a matter of fact, there are not very many of them, though they are being artificially multiplied) become the essential in the liturgy, if the liturgy degenerates into general activity, then we have radically misunderstood the “theo-drama” of the liturgy and lapsed almost into parody. True liturgical education cannot consist in learning and experimenting with external activities. Instead one must be led toward the essential actio that makes the liturgy what it is, toward the transforming power of God, who wants, through what happens in the liturgy, to transform us and the world. In this respect, liturgical education today, of both priests and laity, is deficient to a deplorable extent. Much remains to be done here.

I was just going through old unpublished posts and found this quote. Even though I originally grabbed it over a year and a half ago I can’t say that much has changed on the ground; likewise, much has changed strategically. My subsequent exposure to the Mass in the Extraordinary Form has served only to reinforce my long-held impression that there is a wide disparity between what we see every weekend and what we could see every weekend.

I should rather say the disparity, depending on your intersection with Providence at this point, varies point-for-point between close to what could be hoped and far from it. I personally have seen what impact a new Pastor with an interest in beauty can have and conversely how even someone who knows what must be done can be slowed down by considerations external to the liturgy.

But more to the point of the quote, I’ve been thinking lately about the intersection of beauty qua beauty and properly understood active participation in the liturgy. A beautiful liturgy may not, I am coming to believe, in and of itself be enough to bring people to that true interior personal involvement in the liturgy so desperately desired by the Church. Certainly a Mass beautifully prayed with ceremony befitting the King of Kings can awe and impress and perhaps even shock some into finding the beauty of the Love that is at the core of that celebration. But a Monet is just paint if you can’t understand its beauty.

What I am asking is this: how do we find a way to move hearts and souls in a way that can be comprehended by the uninitiate and those not prepared to or desirous of finding beauty? Is there a kind of aesthetic beauty that is sufficiently universal to encapsulate those with every level of theological and liturgical formation? Answers of “Latin” or “ad orientem” are but minute slices of the picture I’m trying to form here.

Let me also ask the contrary question. Is the possibility of a universal beauty an impossibility in this world because that beauty is in fact only found in God Himself? Let us not forget that God is, as the perfection of all Good, the perfection of beauty to the point we capitalize it as “Beauty”. Is the problem perhaps that since grace builds upon nature this quest for a beauty to be apprehended by all is simply quixotic? Should that be the case, then let me ask an even further leading question: is it possible that the decision of the Council of Trent to require only one form of Mass in the Latin Church actually impeded in some way the quest for universal beauty, that beauty that brings all to understand what truly unfolds before them in their hearts? Discuss, if you would be so kind.

Well, let’s just say life at work as been … interesting. Having somehow, and only through the grace of God, managed to dodge the many bullets flying around I’m just now going to get back into the swing of a “normal” life.

So what have I been doing during all this time other than dodging work bullets? Mostly … reading. I started with Questions and Answers – a collection of, as you’d guess, questions and answers from various groups over the beginning of Pope Benedict’s pontificate. If you follow the Pope closely none of this will be new since these sessions were well-covered at the time; if not, however, this book is a priceless insight into the mind and heart of the Pope. With his wonderful way of treating even complex issues in the simplicity born of love of God he takes questions from groups as diverse as young children and priests of different dioceses in Italy and gently answers every question giving the same attention to a simple child’s question as to a deep question from a priest. The contrast between the innocent yet sincere questions of the children and the less-a-question more-a-statement types of the priests of Rome cannot be missed.

Next I went to A Civilization of Love by the Supreme Knight of the Knights of Columbus, Carl Anderson. Perhaps the best part about this book for me was that it was simply impossible to pin Anderson down to one political ideology – every time it seemed he was about to over-state a point he would produce a deeper insight into the topic and show he had always been trending to the center. Several time I caught myself thinking “I know where he’s going with this” only for him to prove me wrong and point out what is truly not the left or the right, but the Catholic position. I would say his strongest points are those where he is talking about things done by the Knights as a group which, given his position, could be expected. He doesn’t call us to anything extraordinary nor does he promulgate any particularly new teachings – what he does do, however, is remind us how much we can do even in the small things if only we do them, and do them in faith.

Finally, I just finished Augustine’s Confessions as translated by Albert Outler and revised by Mark Vessey for Barnes and Noble Classics. I can’t say much about the Confessions that hasn’t already been said and far more eloquently so I’ll only comment on the translation and the commentary. As good as this translation is, reading through it I came to understand the old latinist’s saying that reading Augustine in anything but his original Latin is a crime – he was too much an artist with the language for all his finest points to translate into another language. It’ll be a while before I’m ready for Augustine in Latin, however, so that’s going to be a ways off before I can speak to it first-hand. One thing I found rather interesting, and this goes for both the translation and the notes, was how the secular viewpoint affected everything. A Christian would expect words such as Lord and God to be capitalized, and would be surprised to find them left lower-case as in this book. In the commentary you can tell the endnotes were written for literary studies rather than spiritual edification, and sometimes the notes belie a certain critical attitude to the Christian points Augustine is attempting to make. At first I found this annoying but quickly found it a source of learning as I had to think through some of the comments to decide where they may have missed the mark. It has been several years since I read Confessions, and I must not wait that long again.

What’s next? I don’t know for sure. I have some thoughts in mind, and if my one project comes together y’all will be among the first to know.

This fine book, published by Ignatius Press, is a collection of a series of addresses and writings by both then-Cardinal Ratzinger and Hans Urs von Balthasar on the subject of Mary, particularly in reference to her as an image and icon of the Church. As we are reminded by Cdl. Ratzinger, proper mariology is also ecclesiology and both mariology and ecclesiology are inseparable from christology. It is in an attempt to extrapolate the close interconnection between these studies that this book is given us.

Overall I was very impressed by this book – the level of its authors should make that no surprise. There were a few times where the selected work strayed for some time from the central topic but they all eventually returned there and it was only then that the heretofore tenuous connections were made clear. Having read enough of Cdl. Ratzinger/Pope Benedict and von Balthasar to know, this wasn’t altogether surprising – they both share a proclivity for, as someone put it, “speaking in paragraphs”. It is when you are feeling yourself lost in their writings that you must buckle down and hold on for this is where some of their more interesting points work themselves out. Incidentally, there is one note by von Balthasar where he pauses to contradict something Cdl. Ratzinger had written in Introduction to Christianitywhich I found rather amusing given that I had just recently finished the section of this book containing his contributions. It is obvious to the gentle reader who may not know otherwise these two men knew each other fairly well.

I’d like to take a couple of extended quotes from each author’s contributions to illustrate what one may find inside. First, from Cdl. Ratzinger:

In my opinion, the connection between the mystery of Christ and the mystery of Mary suggested to us by today’s readings is very important in our age of activism, in which th eWestern mentality has evolved to the extreme. For in today’s intellectual climate, only the masculine principle counts. And that means doing, achieving results, actively planning and producing the world oneself, refusing to wait for anything upon which one would thereby become dependent, relying rather, solely on one’s own abilities. It is, I believe, no coincidence, given our Wester, masculine mentality, that we have increasingly separated Christ from his Mother, without grasping that Mary’s motherhood might have some significance for theology and faith. This attitude characterizes our whole approach to the Church. We treat the Church almost like some technological device that we plan and make with enormous cleverness and expenditure of energy. Then we are surprised when we experience the truth of what Saint Louis-Marie Grignon de Montfort once remarked, paraphrasing the words of the prophet Haggai, when he said, “You do much, but nothing comes of it” (Hag 1:6)! When making becomes autonomous, the things we cannot make but that are alive and need time to mature can no longer survive.

Then, from von Balthasar:

The Virgin, harboring a mystery under her heart, remains in profound solitude. In a silence that almost causes the perplexed Joseph to despair. Incarnation of God means condescension, abasement, and, because we are sinners, humiliation. And he already draws his Mother into these humiliations. Where did she get this child? People must have talked at the time, and they probably never stopped. It must have been a sorry state of affairs if Joseph could find no better way out than to divorce his bride quietly. God’s humanism at once begins drastically. Those whose lives God enters, those who enter into his, are not protected. They have to go along into a suspicion and ambiguity they cannot talk their way out of. And the ambiguity will only get worse, until, at the Cross, the Mother will get to see what her Yes has caused and will have to hear the vitriolic ridicule to which the Son is forced to listen.

*phew* That’s a lot to chew on. Then again, when you’re dealing with God’s plan for the salvation of mankind and the interaction of core parts of that plan it’s going to be rather heady work. If you’ve ever considered the connection between Mary and the Church, and particularly if you’ve never considered that connection, this book will give plenty to contemplate and a host of new insights. It may not be a definitive collection in this area, but then we will never have the definitive answers to these questions until we ask the One who put this plan together in the beginning. I’d highly recommend this book.

This fine book by Fr. Benedict Groeschel, CFR, and James Monti is well summed-up by Fr. Groeschel in his introduction to his section of the book, speaking of the great mysteries of the Faith:

Your head should now be reeling with the thought of all of these mysteries. If it is not, go back and read the last paragraphs over again slowly because you missed what was being said. You can never sufficiently deal with the mystery of the Eucharist or the particular subject of this book, the devotion to the presence of Christ in this sacrament, unless you have a vibrant sense of mystery and have an awesome awareness of the incredible reality of this sacrament.

The last sentence is absolutely true – if you are not at least the tiniest bit open to the possibility that the Eucharist is Jesus Himself and therefore worthy of praise and adoration this book is not for you. If, however, there is even the slightest opening this may be the book that cracks it open for you. In it you will find a mix of history and theology, fact and lore. Very Catholic, that.

The book is comprised of two sections, one by each of the authors. In Fr. Groeschel’s section there were times I could almost hear his old Brooklyn voice narrating the words – he clearly was clearly putting his whole self into his writing. Given the structure of the book it should not be surprising there was some amount of overlap in parts. While repeated information can be a source of frustration, and I’ll admit there were places where it was more noticeable than others, this overlap was more than offset because each author was coming at the information from different directions; Fr. Groeschel more theological, psychological and to some extent sociological, Monti more historical. The two complement each other well. I am quite glad to have read this book, and I’d be willing to bet just about anyoen else would be as well.

I recently finished Mike Aquilina’s book, The Mass of the Early Christians. I’ve been sufficiently busy that I haven’t had a chance to write even this short review until now, much to my chagrin. Suffice it to say, Mike has done it again – the book is fantastic.

If you’re looking for an exhaustive source review of every single patristic source, this slim volume won’t give you what you want. If, however, you want a good, solid overview of the writings of many of the Church Fathers on the Mass – and even some heretical and pagan writings – this is the book for you. Unlike some of Mike’s other books he doesn’t just let the Fathers do the talking in this tome, he also takes up the opportunity to do some instruction of his own. I simply can’t say how necessary that is if in no other area than that surrounding the Discipline of the Secret whereby the early Fathers would be (at best) elliptical in their remarks on what happened during the Mass. Without Mike’s most helpful commentary the reader would feel lost reading the early writers’ statements and could easily conclude that they really didn’t see the Mass in the same fashion we do today, and a horrible mistake that would be.

One other tribute to this book is Mike’s foresight to include not just the Church Fathers but also heretics and pagans. We so often know, or at least have an inkling, what the Church has believed and said, but yet we rarely it seems look to see what others said about the Church. That insularity was hardly a mark of the early Church, even during the persecutions. Since this dialog necessarily had two sides it is critical to know what the “other” side had to say in order to understand the Fathers’ responses. It would be, in a way, like trying to explain the transition from the Apostles’ Creed to the Nicene Creed without mentioning Arianism – possible, but so desperately much more shallow.

I can virtually guarantee I didn’t get the full depths of what I read in this book the first time. That first time, however, will not be the last. If you like patristics or liturgy or history or just the Church herself buy the book. If you don’t like patristics when you start the book, you’re likely to by the time you’re done.

Yes, I’ve been very remiss in posting since just before Christmas. To say it’s been hectic would only cover the half of it. Fortunately I managed to not make “post more and better” one of my New Year’s resolutions or I’d have blown that already.

I still don’t quite have a lot of time, but I wanted to mention that I just finished Avery Cardinal Dulles’ fine tome, A History of Apologetics. While you might think its pretty dry and boring from the title, remember that some of the most exciting times in the history of our Church have been apologetic moments. My mind immediately moves to writings such as St. Ignatius of Lyon’s Adversus haereses or John Henry Cardinal Newman’s essay on the Development of Christian Doctrine. One can even work back all the way to St. Peter’s Pentecost speech to see very early examples of not only fine apologetics but the kind of impact well-done apologetics can have on both the Church and the world.

Cardinal Dulles lays out history into neat segments, showing the varying trends in apologetic strategies and how they worked with the times. He is very fair to all sides, Catholic, Orthodox and Protestant which one would only expect from the good Cardinal. He even delves, for completeness’ sake into some of the non-Christian apologetics with which the Christian apologists were faced over time.

If you in any way like history and if you love the Church, and even if you aren’t Catholic but still Christian, this is a book you shouldn’t pass up. The Cardinal shows a breadth of study that is positively astounding and delivers it all in terms that are both understandable and educational. There are likely not many people in the world that have read and understood as widely as Cardinal Dulles, and this is a great gift from that trove of knowledge.