Dictionary of Saints (revised edition).

John J. Delaney's Dictionary of Saints has served the public well for over two decades, but was in need of some updating. Arthur Jones has done the job nicely, adding many of those beatified and canonized by Pope John Paul II. The second edition includes more than five thousand biographical entries in addition to a lengthy and useful appendix.

Dictionary of Saints (revised edition)

John J. Delaney and Arthur Jones

Doubleday, $32.50, 640 pp.

How does it compare to its many competitors? Each of the reference books on the saints has its strengths. The twelve-volume Butler's Lives of the Saints features fairly good bibliographies, but it is twelve volumes and expensive (the newly published one-volume edition is no substitute for the larger set). The revised Oxford Dictionary of Saints includes only those saints venerated in the British Isles, which means that much in Delaney is omitted, though the entries are generally longer and more descriptive. Richard McBrien's Lives of the Saints has more theological material than any of the other dictionaries. Robert Ellsberg's very popular All Saints features a person for each day of the month but is idio-syncratic in that many people not in the canon of saints (not even necessarily Christian) are included. And while it is attractively written, it is not really a reference work.

Which is the best buy? The answer depends on how you want to use the book. I own all of them and employ them for quite different reasons. I read the daily entry for the saints in Butler, but McBrien would also be useful since he also follows the calendar. I look up obscure saints in Delaney and then check the Oxford dictionary to see what kind of bibliography is available, if any. (Butler also has bibliography, but the Oxford is alphabetical, which makes matters simpler.) And Ellsberg? I like to give his book as a gift because he is readable, interesting, and edifying.

All that said, I do not want to give short shrift to Delaney, so let me insist: his is the best single reference book on the saints organized in alphabetical order. This revised edition of what had already become a near classic is a welcome addition to any reference shelf.

Dynamic Equivalence: The Living Language of Christian Worship

Keith Pecklers, SJ

Pueblo, $29.95, 238 pp.

There is a mild resurgence of interest in the Latin liturgy, among both older Catholics who never accepted the liturgical reforms of Vatican II and younger Catholics who look to the past for a Catholic Church they have never experienced. There is no doubt that the shift from the use of Latin to the vernacular was a momentous event in Catholicism. Those who think, however, that it was a bolt from the blue in the wacky sixties would do well to read Pecklers's extremely interesting work.

Latin, Pecklers notes, was adopted as the language of the liturgy in Rome when the Greek of the ancient liturgy became unintelligible. In other words, the use of Latin marked the first shift into the vernacular.

In subsequent centuries there were many other times the vernacular was used during worship: in the missionary activities of Saints Cyril and Methodius in Eastern Europe in the eighth century; in discussions at the Council of Trent; in the (fruitless) attempt of Bishop John Carroll to establish an English liturgy for the United States. Writing in the nineteenth century, Antonio Rosmini proposed a vernacular liturgy in The Five Wounds of the Church, only to see his book put on the Index. (He was belatedly rehabilitated when Pope John Paul II cited him as a model intellectual in Fides et ratio.)

Pecklers traces in some detail the campaign for a vernacular liturgy in the twentieth century. Why did the church finally make the change? For one reason, many Catholics found it difficult to celebrate the sacraments--especially marriages, baptisms, and funerals--with a Latin text. Second, groups like the Vernacular Society and the Liturgical Movement made profound theological and ecumenical arguments for such a change. Finally, the theological ferment surrounding the council (ressourcement) proved to be the ideal climate for liturgical reformers. In the last section of his book, Pecklers narrates the obstacles to reform on the eve of Vatican II, the struggles within the council itself (conducted in Latin, even though many bishops were, to put it charitably, not fluent in the language), and the final adoption of the liturgy document.

Pecklers's book ends at the conclusion of Vatican II, though he could have gone further. Adapting to the vernacular has been a long, sometimes painful process. Battles are still being fought. Consider the tension between the International Commission on English in the Liturgy (ICEL) and the curia on the translation of liturgical texts. Perhaps in a few years someone will follow up with a study of the reception of the vernacular over the past half-century. It would be a fascinating story.

Leadership in the Church

Walter Cardinal Kasper

Translated by Brian McNeil

Crossroad/Herder, $24.95, 240 pp.

Walter Kasper is a distinguished German theologian, former diocesan bishop, and president of the Pontifical Council for Promoting Christian Unity. Best known in this country for his still widely read The God of Jesus Christ, he has now published a collection of essays in English. Among the subjects he considers are the diaconate, the priestly office, the office of the bishop, the place of canon law in the life of the church, and ecumenism. The book also includes his well-known response to Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger regarding the relationship--or more specifically, the priority--of the universal and the local church. Kasper subtitles that essay "A Friendly Rejoinder."

Apart from the short pastoral reflection on canon law, these essays are substantial theological reflections written in an accessible style. They are filled with excellent pastoral points. Kasper's study of the permanent diaconate, for example, argues that it is a legitimate office of the church with its own history and purpose, not a "halfway house" toward the priesthood. Anyone who is concerned with the diaconate should read this essay. Kasper notes, among other things, that one of the diaconal duties, rooted in ordination, is service to the needy. "If this diaconal dimension is taken seriously there can be no such thing as 'private' distress; the communio of the church means that everyone will show solidarity and be concerned about the distress of others," he writes.

Kasper's study of the priesthood is a sensitive analysis of the plight of priests today, especially in Europe. He does not take up neuralgic issues like women's ordination or mandatory celibacy, choosing instead to keep a precise eye on the relationship between priest and bishop. He argues that stop-gap measures to alleviate shortages must not undermine the precise character of the priesthood. He reminds us that a priest is not simply a "technician" of the sacramental life, but an extension of the bishop who is the true head of the local church. Kasper's theological understanding of the episcopacy, supported by a careful analysis of St. Thomas Aquinas, is a ringing call for bishops to be more than just agents of the pope, but authentic pastors and authoritative teachers.

In his rejoinder to Ratzinger, Kasper grounds his theology in the urgent pastoral needs of real people. (Ratzinger, on the other hand, writes rather abstractly on the priority of the universal over the local church.) The two are actually not very far apart on some issues; Kasper is a theologian and not a sociologist, so he understands Ratzinger's worries about reductionism. Still, it is an immense comfort to know that Kasper is walking the halls of the Vatican, speaking courteously but firmly about the pastoral needs of the church.

Evelyn Underhill: Essential Writings

Edited Emilie Griffin

Orbis, $15, 144 pp.

Emilie Griffin's anthology of the major works of Evelyn Underhill (1875-1941) is part of the "Modern Spiritual Masters Series" published by Orbis. Underhill is best known as the author of Mysticism (1911), which went through thirteen editions in her lifetime and is still in print. She had a long spiritual journey, flirting at points with theosophy as well as the Roman Catholic Church. (She was influenced by Baron Friedrich von Hugel, but was eventually put off by Rome's antimodernism.) She finally joined the Church of England. A prolific author and a seasoned director of retreats, Underhill edited modern versions of spiritual classics such as The Cloud of Unknowing and Walter Hilton's Scale of Perfection.

In Mysticism, Underhill writes that mysticism is not some odd, rare phenomenon but the normal expectation, under grace, of those who remain disciplined in prayer. She also wisely insists that the fifth "sign" of mysticism is forgetfulness of self, putting herself in the very good company of Teresa of Avila, who made the same point in The Interior Castle. I directed a dissertation on Underhill some years ago, but had forgotten how effectively she places the experiences of the mystic within the larger life of the church, thus giving the lie to that old bromide that mystics were all "outsiders."

Griffin has selected excerpts from nine of Underhill's books and a few selections from her letters. She also includes some later works where Underhill meditates on the Lord's Prayer and the liturgy. The book gives a good taste of Underhill's graceful prose and deep faith. It is a good, albeit brief, entry into the thought and spirituality of a woman who is rightly commemorated in the American version of the Book of Common Prayer.

A selection of Etty Hillesum's diaries, An Interrupted Life, was published in 1983, and later some letters from her days in the transit camp before she was sent to Auschwitz appeared as Letters from Westerbork (1986). We now have the full diaries and all of the extant letters of this extraordinary young Dutch woman who, from 1941 to 1943, kept a series of diaries in school copybooks. A nonobservant Jew living in Amsterdam, studying and tutoring in Russian language and literature, she was passionately in love with a German refugee nearly thirty years her senior (who was, oddly, an expert in the pseudo-science of Jungian chirology). Her journal is full of reflections on this affair; her own yearning for a deeper love; her frank reflections on her erotic experiences; her deep engagement with literature (she has wonderful meditations on Rilke, who was her literary touchstone); the increasing restrictions put on her life as a citizen of an occupied country; and her status as a Jew.

Through her somewhat bohemian life ran a deep thread of spiritual longing and the need for a life of prayer. At the suggestion of Julius Spier, her lover, she read The Imitation of Christ and the writings of Augustine. She was assiduous in her meditations on the Bible. Interpolated among these long entries are poignant prayers in which Hillesum articulates her deepest aspirations: "I promise you to strive my whole life long for beauty and harmony and also humility and true love, whispers of which I hear inside me during my best moments." Her prayers almost always contain an expression of gratitude for the beauty of the world, with a focus on the particular (for example, the fragrance of jasmine in a garden); a plea for strength to bear her life; and a hope that she will not be consumed with hatred or bitterness.

While much of this is personal, there is also an intuition that she could be a witness to what is happening around her. On April 30, 1942, she records a conversation with Jewish friends about life under the Nazis, observing that in "years to come, children will be taught about ghettos and yellow stars and terror at school, and it will make their hair stand on end." Less than two months later she records new restrictions: Jews may no longer shop at greengrocers, they must hand in their bicycles, and are forbidden to be on the streets after 8 p.m. By the end of 1942, she was traveling back and forth from Amsterdam to the transit camp at Westerbork. In 1943 she was sent to Auschwitz with most of her family. Etty went to the gas chamber there on November 30.

Reading this full account gave me the same sense of foreboding I had when I read the abridged versions nearly two decades ago: an ominous awareness of the dates of her entries. Every reader knows what the endgame will be, as she pours out her love for poetry, her gratitude for some decent food, her prayers, and her still youthful longings for love and intimacy (she was in her late twenties when she wrote). It is, of course, impossible to read about her daily routines in Amsterdam without thinking of Anne Frank and her family hiding out in the same city. One more coincidence is striking. In an entry written at Westerbork in September 1942, she records seeing two cultivated nuns "from Breslau" at the transit camp. Those nuns were, in fact, Edith Stein and her sister Rosa, who were waiting for the transport to Auschwitz, where they both died before the year was out. She also saw there the members of the Lob family, including three brothers who were Trappist monks and three sisters who were Trappistines. All died in the gas chambers.

This firsthand testimony adds to the literature on the Shoah. It is also a vivid account of one of those profound spiritual seekers who lived (in Hillesum's words) in a world that made Dante's Inferno seem like a comic opera, but whose integrity and humanity were never swallowed up. Finally, it rings with religious authenticity in the most profound meaning of the word.

The editor and translator also deserve recognition: the later for the readability of the text; the former for useful end-notes that give pertinent information about persons mentioned in the text, and explanations of materials alluded to by Hillesum that might be unfamiliar to the reader.

Etty: The Letters and Diaries of Etty Hillesum (1941-1943)

Edited by Klaas A. D. Smelik

Translated by Arnold Pomerans

Eerdmans, $35, 800 pp.

Lawrence S. Cunningham is John A. O'Brien Professor of Theology at the University of Notre Dame.