Religion booknotes.

Jean-Pierre Torrell's book on Thomas Aquinas is the second of a two-volume study of the saint. The first was a survey of his life and major works. Robert Royal has also translated that book into English, rendering J. A. Weisheipl's older Friar Thomas d'Aquino (corrected and amplified edition, 1983) obsolete. Although the new volume is related to the first, this magnificent study, a model of clarity and scholarship, can be read on its own. We are in the debt of Catholic University's press for making both volumes available in such a faithful and readable translation. (I have both volumes in French and can attest to their fidelity.)

Saint Thomas Aquinas: Spiritual Master

Jean-Pierre Torrell, OP; translated by Robert Royal

Catholic University of America Press, $49.95, 442 pp.

There are some self-styled Catholic intellectuals who regularly sneer at the word "spirituality" (usually appending the adjective "lite"). They would do well to read Torrell's opening chapter where, drawing on the work of the late Canadian scholar Walter Principe, he details the ancient pedigree and the deeply theological meaning of that word. St. Thomas understood spirituality as the life that comes from the practice of virtue obtained in baptism and strengthened through the other sacraments. In other words, the spiritual person (the pneumatikos of the Greek fathers) is the person who lives out the gift of grace.

It is the burden of Torrell's remaining chapters to explore how Thomas understood such a life. He does so brilliantly, synthesizing Thomas's doctrine of God, God's relationship to creation, the doctrine of "image and likeness," and Christology and pneumatology. In one particularly penetrating chapter, Torrell turns to the subject of friendship and relates it to the area of moral theology. The final chapter, titled "Ways to God," shows the deeply contemplative character of Thomas's thinking.

Like his fellow French scholar Marie Dominique Chenu, Torrell will not allow us to closet St. Thomas among the philosophers. Thomas was a biblical commentator, an educator of his fellow friars, a theologian, a preacher, and a great contemplative. If you want to revisit Aquinas, perhaps to be inspired to go back and read what at first seemed dry and unforgiving, this is a good place to start.

Witnesses to the Kingdom: The Martyrs of El Salvador and the Crucified People

Jon Sobrino

Orbis, $20, 230 pp.

Had Jon Sobrino not been lecturing in Thailand in 1989, he surely would have been numbered among the Jesuits murdered at the Central American University in El Salvador. In fact, Sobrino's life in El Salvador is studded with the memory of martyrs: Rutilio Grande, SJ, in 1977; the four American missionaries in 1980; Archbishop Oscar Romero in the same year; and the Jesuit priests less than a decade later. Those are the names that we remember. But Sobrino reminds us of others who were murdered--the legions of unnamed campesinos, organizers, and students.

Given that sad chronicle, it is no wonder Sobrino insists on the need for a theology of martyrdom for our day. This book is an answer to that need. It is not a systematic work but a pastiche of essays and selections from his other books. As such, it has a certain fugue-like quality, as Sobrino returns again and again to the same themes.

Pope John Paul II has written extensively about martyrdom and famously called for the compilation of a martyrology of the twentieth century. What, however, constitutes martyrdom? Historically it was death in defense of the faith. Still many church martyrs died for political reasons (St. Thomas Becket), even because of ethnicity, as was argued after the death of (St.) Edith Stein.

Sobrino is not interested in such canonical distinctions. Martyrdom, he argues, expresses the universe of suffering and death as well as the universe of generosity and love. As he writes, in a fine sentence, martyrdom shows that "Along side the God of life and the liberating God there are idols of death."

Sobrino uses the neologism "Jesuanic" martyrdom to describe dying the same way Jesus died: at the hands of evil powers who hate the light and the good. He argues that if we want to broaden the definition of martyrdom to include those who have died explicitly in defense of the faith, we should use this analogy. He points out that the simplest Salvadoran peasant knows why Jesus died just as he knows why Oscar Romero was murdered at the altar. Both died not from hatred of the faith, but from a hatred for justice and love. This points to the truth of what John Paul II wrote in Ut unum sint: the deepest form of ecumenical dialogue can be found in the witness of the martyrs who died in the manner of Jesus Christ.

Sobrino considers martyrdom from a number of theological perspectives. He notes, for example, that "it is clear that the poor of this world listen to and trust the people who risk their lives for them to the point of martyrdom." As a consequence, martyrdom both shares in the passion of Christ and is the final expression of love of neighbor. Finally--and this echoes both St. Thomas Aquinas and John Paul II--martyrdom is a vivid witness to the truth: some things are so fundamentally true that they are worth dying for.

Contemplatives in Action: The Jesuit Way

Robert A. Barry, SJ, and Robert G. Doherty, SJ

Paulist, $11.95, 84 pp.

Sobrino is, of course, a Jesuit, a member of a religious society with a long history of scholarship in the service of evangelization. Jesuits are, as the title of Barry and Doherty's book indicates, contemplatives in action. In their introduction, the authors make clear that this is not a book about Jesuit spirituality, but about Ignatian spirituality. Indeed, many laypeople have made the Ignatian exercises or have been shaped in some way by Ignatian schools, parishes, or voluntary associations.

The book details Jesuit spirituality from the inside. Borrowing from John O'Malley's brilliant historical work The First Jesuits (Harvard University Press, 1993), the authors describe the Jesuit life as a series of creative tensions. When the tensions are not held in balance, the result is a distorted spiritual practice and a need for re-formation.

What are these tensions? Some are obvious and not peculiar to the Society of Jesus. How, for example, does one balance the life of prayer and the life of action? Ignatius himself had to intervene in the life of the society in Portugal to correct a wing of the order that indulged in excessive forms of asceticism and prayer. The order's foundational documents are still notoriously nonspecific about what kind of prayer was the norm apart from meditation and the examination of conscience. Ignatius fought for the right of Jesuits not to celebrate the Divine Office in common as other religious did (a radical innovation which nearly cost the order its existence). Did this result in a non-appreciation of the liturgical life of the church? (There is an old saying: "Lost as a Jesuit in Holy Week.") If so, how might that be righted?

Other tensions include the balancing of companionship and mission; poverty and the use of goods; chastity and friendship. Of particular note today is the need to balance the Jesuit vow to be obedient to the pope with the need to be alert to the needs of the local church. What happens when the discernment of the order does not match the world view of the reigning pope? The Jesuits would learn firsthand a few decades ago when John Paul II effectively put the society in temporary receivership. Those kinds of clashes will most likely not end. Just recently the Vatican concluded an investigation of the renowned Jesuit theologian Jacques Dupuis.

Contemplatives in Action is a brief book. Some of it pertains strictly to the needs and history of the Jesuits, but in other ways it speaks to the church as a whole. One detects in it some anxiety about the health of the Society of Jesus. Yet with more than forty Jesuit martyrs in the last generation and a flourishing of Jesuit life in the non-European world, there is reason to be hopeful. This outsider, for one, will not flag in his admiration for those who first taught him theology. I am confident that, borrowing a phrase from the order, "our way of proceeding" will continue to enrich the life of the church.

Saint Therese of Lisieux: Doctor of the Universal Church

Steven Payne, OCD 

St. Paul's Publications, $14.95, 240 pp.

On Sunday, October 19, 1997, Pope John Paul II proclaimed St. Therese of Lisieux a doctor of the church. She was the third woman to be given that title. That Therese was a great saint is universally recognized in the Catholic world. She has been one of the most venerated saints of the modern era. Still, on what basis was she to be considered a "doctor" of the church? It is the burden of Steven Payne's enormously fascinating book to answer that question.

His excellent essay is instructive in a number of ways. Payne first takes us through the evolution of the title "doctor of the church," from its patristic roots to its modern usage as a title granted only after a rigorous vetting process. Second, he traces the history of the movement, which began in the 1920s, to grant Therese that title. Third, he explains how the recommendation came to John Paul II, who was quite obviously positively disposed to the proclamation. That process involved panels of theologians both in the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith and the Congregation for the Causes of the Saints.

Of Therese's sanctity there was no doubt; she had been canonized less than thirty years after her death in 1897. The central issue was this: Did her writings exhibit that kind of "eminent doctrine" regarded as the sine qua non of any potential doctor? To put it more bluntly: Did her writings exhibit any doctrine at all, or Were they simply an omnium gatherum of pious poetry, saccharine playlets, and florid "spiritual" writing? There is no doubt that some of Therese's language does violence to the contemporary ear. But a close reading of her writings reflects a deeply mystical young woman who had to pass through the dark night of temptation and, without great formal education, managed to write powerfully about faith, Christology, and Trinitarian dynamism. That, at least, was the contention of Hans Urs von Balthasar, a pretty demanding theologian. In the end the Roman theologians were in agreement.

Payne's book raises many interesting questions. First, what constitutes doctrina (literally: "what is taught")? Should Therese's case force us to understand doctrina more broadly? And, if so, what are the ramifications for Christian spirituality and its nexus with theology?

Second, how should theologians integrate Therese's doctrine into their theological work? Von Balthasar has done that better than most, but more attention is needed. And third, will Therese suffer the same benign neglect as those, such as Anthony of Padua and Lawrence of Brindisi, who were named doctors in a period when the canon of doctors suffered some kind of inflation? These, amid other musings, came to mind as I read this most instructive book on one of the most attractive saints of the modern world.

Credible Signs of Christ Alive

By John P. Hogan

Sheed & Ward, $16.95, 130 pp.

Credible Signs is a study of six projects sponsored by the Catholic Campaign for Human Development (CCHD), an office of the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops. John P. Hogan begins by noting the nexus between the work of the CCHD and Catholic social-justice theory, then describes the six projects funded by the CCHD. Each case concludes with a series of discussion questions, some suggestions for parish action, a list of contacts, and a bibliography for further study. Thus, the book is both a celebration of achievement and a plan for action.

Among the projects described here, I was particularly struck by the work of the Dolores Mission Parish in Los Angeles and its effort against gang violence. Situated in a neighborhood racked by violence (there were twenty-four homicides in a five-month period in 2002), this Jesuit-run parish sponsors a number of services, including shelters for homeless men, a cooperative childcare center, after-school tutoring, and a small alternative high school for kids in danger of dropping out of ordinary schools. It also provides more basic services, like removing gang tattoos from young people, to make it easier for them to get jobs.

These case studies are real-life attempts to apply the social teaching of the church in a concrete fashion. They are social outreach programs rooted in the gospel and in the authentic teaching of the church. It was consoling to turn away from the mountains of literature on the current crisis in the church to read about places where people demonstrate that the Good News is alive, even in places where most of the news is bad.

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