Christian Doctrine and Modern Culture (since 1700). By Jaroslav Pelikan. University of Chicago Press. 361 pages. $29.95.
With this imposing conclusion Jaroslav Pelikan reaches the end of his labors on the five volumes of The Christian Tradition: A History of the Development of Doctrine, one of the monumental works of 20th-century historiography. With an erudition that never sinks into ponderousness or abstruseness, Pelikan traces the unfolding of doctrinal development as evidenced in the various divisions of Christianity Roman Catholic, Eastern Orthodox, Anglican, Lutheran, Calvinist, and Protestant sectarian.
The churches response to attacks from secular culture forms a crucial leitmotif in this volume, but the main theme debouches from what the author sees as the tension between tradition and doubt or between dogma and relativism. In whatever facet of his topic he explores, Pelikan adheres to his definition of doctrine: what the church believes, teaches and confesses.
Pelikans elucidation of the diverse strands of doctrinal development reminds one of the richness of the Christian tradition, even in the face of the hostility and indifference of the modern era. If only these strands could be woven together in seamless unity how much all Christians would gain! One notes with sadness the bickering, confusion, and animosity that have been provoked by the clash of antagonistic churches and denominations; at times, one struggles in vain to hear the voice of Christ amidst the sounding brass and tinkling cymbals of Christian controversy.
Summa Theologiae: A Concise Translation. Edited by Timothy McDermott. Christian Classics. 651 pages. $78.
Scholars of Thomism and experts in medieval Latin will have to hand down the definitive verdict on Timothy McDermotts translating and editing job, but in the meantime it appears that his edition may be ideal for those who want more than snippets as an introduction to the Summa. In an effort to make St. Thomass masterpiece accessible to twentieth-century reading habits, McDermott departs from previous translations in three particulars: in concision, in trying to avoid technicality, and in format. Perhaps most significant is the first feature, of which McDermott explains: The concision has been achieved not by selecting out parts, but by compressing and distilling the whole. My aim was to try and say all that Thomas wanted to say, in his own words, but in a text condensed to about one-sixth of its length.
1990 Catholic Almanac. Edited by Felician A. Foy. Our Sunday Visitor Books. 600 pages. $15.95.
Heres a book to give to your favorite anti-Catholic fundamentalist. It wont convert him it isnt designed for that but it will give him a rudimentary literacy about what the Catholic Church actually teaches. It might even be worth giving to a Catholic neighbor, given that the level of literacy about Catholic doctrine has sunk to sorry depths even among Catholics.
Youll probably also want a copy for yourself. The book is loaded with reference material about the Church with everything from the addresses of U.S. and Canadian bishops to a glossary of common and not-so-common terms to a list of retreat houses throughout the U.S.
Updated every year, each edition contains special reports on the major news events of the preceding year.
Last Things. By Madison Jones. Louisiana State University Press. 206 pages. $17.95.
Wendell Corbin, the protagonist of Madison Joness novel, is a Southern-fried Nietzsche, an Alabama Ubermensch who bristles with disdain or contempt for everybody around him. He had long since committed himself to the notion that the good was only what was good for him. Blackmailed into participating in a drug deal, he shakes off his initial fright and begins to relish the lawlessness and lucre of the underworld. Not content with his own corruption, he insinuates himself into the confidence of Tricia Harker, a pathetic middle-aged woman who natters about Nietzsche as she putters in her garden. Wendell seduces Tricia and cajoles her into murdering her snoopy mother-in-law. Betrayed and abandoned by her seducer, Tricia kills herself to escape the terrors of guilt and remorse.
Wendells redemption comes through the agency of an oversized God-crazy preacher named Sears. Sears fills Wendell with dread, because Wendell imagines that the tent-preacher can see all the nastiness that festers in a sinners soul. After one encounter with Sears, Wendell lies trembling in bed, expecting that at any moment something, like a hand as big as himself, would seize him. That mysterious something the workings of Gods grace lies at the heart of Joness excellent novel.
Creative Communion: Toward a Spirituality of Work. By Joe Holland. Paulist. 87 pages. $4.95.
Joe Hollands reflections groan under the weight of jargon (we are seeing the emergence of the first seeds of a holistic, post-modern, ecologically-centered culture, reintegrating science and spirituality in a fresh cosmology, as revealed by sub-atomic and astrophysics through the use of computerized microscopic and telescopic technologies from the micro-electronic revolution). They also produce an exceedingly dubious typology that correlates cultural context, forms of communication, spirituality, and sexual symbol.
But despite verbal logjams and rococo typologies, Holland is often on the right track, indeed, several right tracks. For too many of us, he argues perceptively, work is deeply alienating. The primacy of the person is at risk. Holland is insightful, as well, in sketching a Christian view of work as sharing in Gods creative activity. He effectively shows that unless our work puts people first, it will continue to undermine the social and ecological orders alike.
Holland is at his best in pointing to the pastoral implications of a Christian vision of work. Parish ministry that ignores the working lives of its members misses a central dimension of their existence.
Hollands essay deserves an audience. The hard questions he raises remind us that Catholic social thought is an ongoing enterprise. No one said it would be easy.
Winning Is the Only Thing: Sports in America since 1945. By Randy Roberts and James Olson. Johns Hopkins University Press. 258 pages. $18.95.
"Priorities are out of whack. Politics? The military? Higher education? Everyone could probably supply his own candidate, for this blunt utterance would apply with equal persuasiveness to numerous facets of American society. For Randy Roberts and James Olson it boils down to one thing, that celebrated and cherished pursuit that trails only slightly behind money-making and love of country: Sports, the authors declare, increasingly occupy to an unwholesome degree the attention of millions of Americans.
We have blundered into a colossal mess in which sports the playing of games by grown men and women (surely something of minor consequence in a well-ordered society) have swollen into a repellent conglomeration of big business, mass (and mindless) entertainment, and ersatz religion. Instead of work, family, or religion, Roberts and Olson argue, increasingly large numbers of Americans were choosing sport as the focus of their lives.
Concentrating upon the Olympic Games, college basketball, and the professional sports of football, baseball, basketball, ice hockey, and boxing, Roberts and Olson uncover a foul kettle of fish: greed, cheating, crime, drugs, commercialism, and political machination. Take the Olympics, for example, a major topic in Winning Is the Only Thing. The Games have never been a haven for pure athletic competition witness, for starters, the political jiggering in Berlin in 1936 but they sank to an unprecedentedly sorry pass in 1984 when Los Angeles staged a grotesque display of Hollywood glitz and nationalistic trumpery.
Although Roberts and Olson deal mainly with organized sports, they do endeavor to debunk the current fitness craze in which the idiotic streak in the American character has been encouraged to run amok. Millions of Americans embraced the cult of fitness to discover the meaning of life, retreating into the fantasy that they are how they look. The authors correctly descry a religious impulse in this lunacy, remarking, for example, that in a secular, materialistic age, dieting has become an ascetic religion. In a particularly forceful passage, they depict the dreary state of American culture. Five hundred years ago, they observe, European cities dedicated all their surplus capital... to build elaborate cathedrals to God. In the United States during the 1970s and 1980s, the modern equivalent of the medieval cathedral was the domed stadium.
Origen. By Henri Crouzel. Harper & Row. 278 pages. $39.95.
Origen, the third-century theologian who allegorized Scripture with a vengeance, made the mistake of reading literally a verse he should have taken figuratively. Ablaze with youthful ardor, he translated into deed the suggestion contained in Matthew 19:12 And there be eunuchs, which have made themselves eunuchs for the kingdom of heavens sake. With his impetuous act, he won enduring notoriety; Fr. Crouzel notes sadly: The mutilation [is] the only thing the general public usually knows about Origen...
For Crouzel, Origen is the first great theologian of the Church, a thinker worthy to stand shoulder to shoulder with Augustine and Aquinas. In this detailed and weighty study, Crouzel both explicates Origens vast writings and defends him from detractors who sniff the odor of heresy when Origen is mentioned. Crouzel disdains such charges (everything from gnosticism to universalism) as the result of ignorance, unfairness, and misunderstanding on the part of critics. Not only did Origen secure the orthodox faith against fifth columnists gnostics, Marcionites, millenarians, and literalists, to name only a few but in his wrangles with pagan philosophers he established the intellectual credibility of the Christian message.
Although one may still insist that some of Origens teaching e.g., the pre-existence of souls were, to say the least, peculiar, one will probably agree with Crouzels conclusion that posterity has been seriously unjust to the memory of one of the men to whom Christian thought is most indebted.