Reviews

Synodality and the Recovery of Vatican II: A New Way for Catholics
Edited by Stephen McKinney, Thomas O’Loughlin and Beáta Tóth
ISBN 978-1-78812-672-4
Messenger Publications 2024
Paperback 176pp £23
Pastoral Review bookshop £20.70

A book on synodality in the Catholic Church is timely. Or is it? As this collection of essays is published, the Vatican is preparing to convene the second session of the Synod on Synodality. Did the editors act prematurely in publishing this volume, when there will be so much more to come from the synod discussions in October 2024, not least on how to be a missionary synodal Church?

Thankfully not. The contents of this excellent volume allay any fears of its being outdated on arrival. These essays provide much needed foundational work from leading theologians in the Catholic Theological Association for our understanding of synodality. If indeed synodality is not just an event, or a one-off project, but a new way (or a re-discovered old way) of being Church, then we’re in it for the long haul and will need to build up our resources to help us understand this way of proceeding. Indeed, the extent to which we are supported by work like this could be one of the determining factors of the success of the synod process at a national and diocesan level.

In the first essay, Stephen McKinney considers the importance of the Council of Jerusalem (Acts 15) for the current synodal process. He sees in this first recorded experience of the early Church in council the main elements of synodality in today’s Church. Most importantly, what the Instrumentum Laboris (2023) calls the protagonism of the Holy Spirit. After the different sides have had their say, in other words been listened to (a key characteristic of a synodal Church) the summary of the decision in the letter to the Gentile believers states, ‘For it has seemed good to the Holy Spirit and to us…’ (Acts 15.28). McKinney makes the important point that in the Latin Church the Holy Spirit has been overlooked. The synod is therefore an opportunity ‘to renew the Church’s faith in the role and work of the Holy Spirit’.

Not that the synod is the event in the Church in recent years which re-directed our attention to the Holy Spirit. This can be traced to the Second Vatican Council (1962–5), hence the title of this collection. The synod process is seen as the recovery of Vatican II, or a return to the working out of the consequences of the Council, looking to the Holy Spirit to inspire the Church, the people of God, walking together. Clare Watkins, in her essay on the authority of those experiencing marginalisation in the Church, considers the implications of the doctrine of the Holy Spirit attested to by the Council, with regards to those on the peripheries of Church life. Watkins challenges the very language of peripheries, which always assumes a centre and is in danger of othering those not at or near the centre. She prefers the language of ‘ecclesial edginess’ or ‘edgy synodality’, which opens up new sources of authority and insight, since ‘if we want to know more fully what God is doing in God’s world we need to attend to the diversity of places of grace’.

Pope Francis has referred to synodality as a gift not just to the Church, but to the world. Another characteristic of a synodal Church is encounter and dialogue, which is much needed in both the Church and the world. Ashley Beck, in his essay, sees an important role for Catholic social teaching in helping the Church to develop its practices of dialogue. In recent social encyclicals, especially Laudati Si’, Beck sees a move away from a self-referential theology to an openness to sources of knowledge outside of the Church’s competence, in this case the science of global warming. Part of being a Church which sees what is going on in the world and discerns the best action to take to promote compassion and justice is to draw upon the wisdom and knowledge of the wider human community and other religions.

This rich collection of essays is a significant contribution to the theology of synodality, an invitation to listen, discern and walk together as a people of God in the service of humanity.

Raymond Friel, CEO, Caritas Social Action Network
Ignatius Loyola: Christian Mystic
Brian O’Leary SJ
ISBN 978-1-78812-648-9
Messenger Publications 2023
Paperback 130pp £12.95
Pastoral Review bookshop £11.66

Avery Dulles famously renewed the understanding of the Church by employing complementary models and images such as institution, sacrament, herald, and servant. Brian O’Leary’s new book on the well-worn subject of the life of St Ignatius Loyola seeks to complement the better-known images of the saint as soldier-priest and as pilgrim with that of mystic. Little has been written on this subject in English and none aimed at a popular readership. This short and accessible book sets out to lead the reader step by step through Ignatius’ mystical experiences and to outline an ‘everyday mysticism’ accessible to all. The latter is always likely to be the challenge, given the singularity of Ignatius’ mystical visions, a grace granted to very few.

In this regard, the opening chapter proves helpful in explaining that the term ‘mystic’ and ‘contemplative’ are essentially synonymous in the history of spirituality, with the latter perhaps less daunting and more attainable. Indeed, O’Leary recommends the dynamic found in the practice of lectio divina – lectio, meditatio, oratio and contemplatio – as the basic pattern of all prayer. Thus mysticism/contemplation is within reach when we pray, with God’s grace.

As noted, thornier is the relevance of Ignatius’ frequent mystical visions to the ordinary Christian’s spirituality. Basing themselves on the Autobiography, the middle chapters deal in some depth with a presentation and analysis of these pivotal moments in Ignatius’ vocation. While the visions at La Storta (Chapter 5) are less relatable, those at Manresa (Chapter 4) prove surprisingly fruitful in O’Leary’s telling. Ignatius receives five teaching visions on the Trinity, the Incarnation, the Eucharist, and Our Lady, culminating in a final vision at the River Cardoner. O’Leary argues skilfully that this final vision, which Ignatius cannot describe in any visual way, is an inner illumination showing the interconnectedness of all knowledge and of all the mysteries of faith, one which sustains him for the rest of his life. Few Christians have seen visions, but many may have been privileged to have experienced such an inner illumination and intuition of wholeness and peace at some point in their life. Ignatius helps us to recognise, recall and name these precious moments.

Chapter 6 changes focus, to show how Ignatius applies the ‘rules of election’ to a specific problem, that of the Society’s approach to poverty, thus modelling Ignatian discernment to the modern reader. Finally, the subtle and balanced Chapter 7 traces the investigations of the Inquisition into Ignatius, showing both his affinity with the best insights of the alumbrados, and his sharp distinction from them thanks to his Catholic instinct in applying ‘both/and’ rather than ‘either/or’ thinking. While the suspected heretics promoted personal mental prayer alone, Ignatius promoted mental and vocal prayer, personal and liturgical prayer; while the former stressed the authority of personal experience, Ignatius looks to this and Church authority for guidance.

A strong and concise suggested reading list rounds off an enjoyable and insightful piece of writing, one which has successfully added ‘everyday mysticism’ to the myriad ways in which Ignatian spirituality is proving a sure guide to the spiritual life in our days.

Fr Stephen Reilly, Diocese of Motherwell

Theology without Deception: God, the Poor, and Reality in El Salvador. Conversations with Charo Mármol
Jon Sobrino
ISBN 978-1-62698-521-6
Orbis 2023
Paperback 224pp £24.99
Pastoral Review bookshop £22.49

The content of this engrossing book is aptly described as conversations rather than interviews, as the questions and prompts support the narrative rather than interrupt or distract. Jon Sobrino has free reign to recall his life as a Jesuit, discuss his theology and the people who have influenced him. These include Pedro Arrupe, Monseñor Romero and Ignacio Ellacuría. The book initially covers his early life and formation in St Louis, Germany and Central America, and traces his ‘awakening’ in El Salvador to the plight of the poor. This is followed by a focus on many things that he wishes to emphasise and clarify, all presented in a fluent and readable style. He expresses profound admiration for Archbishop Romero and refutes the widely held view that Monseñor was initially on the side of the wealthier classes. Archbishop Romero was in fact always close to the poor and this intensified in the radical change that overcame him after the assassination of Fr Rutilio Grande, and as he confronted the civil strife, oppression and murder of the poor. Further, Romero rebuffed the attempts by the elites to win him over after he was named Archbishop of San Salvador. Sobrino had a deep respect for Ignacio Ellacuría and his theology. He also speaks very warmly of Fr Pedro Arrupe. Overall, Jon Sobrino emerges as a man who has a deep Christian faith (a faith he has wrestled with), a man characterised by humility, compassion and love for others. His humility is demonstrated when he is very willing to admit his shortcomings and, surely, there is something very comforting about a theologian of Jon Sobrino’s stature admitting that he didn’t always fully understand the works of Karl Rahner? His compassion for the poor is very evident throughout the book. He explains that he understood his approach to liberation theology to be intellectus amoris – understanding love – and love too seeks to be understood – amor quaerens intellectum. There is, of course, a darker side to his story. Jon Sobrino mentions the misunderstandings that arose, at times, with Jesuit superiors. He is quite magnanimous about his difficult and uncomfortable relationship with an authoritarian Rome which extended over a long period of time, though he is reluctant to spend time on the detail. This book concludes with a chapter on the legacy of the eight UCA martyrs and a ‘long epilogue’ (followed by short appendices). In the long epilogue, he talks about walking with Monseñor Romero, Ignacio Ellacuría and Jesus of Nazareth. This is an arresting and powerful chapter, and he explains that he is still acutely aware that Jesus is good news and continues to walk with him. On the final page of the long epilogue, Sobrino discusses his serious medical health issues and his increasing frailty. His academic activities are now reduced to short articles and interviews, including this extended series of conversations. For those who have followed the life and writings of Jon Sobrino, the whole book is, in a sense, a long epilogue and signals the end of the substantial writing of this Jesuit priest, philosopher, theologian and extraordinary follower of Jesus Christ.

Stephen J. McKinney, University of Glasgow

The Persistence of Evil: A Cultural, Literary and Theological Analysis
Fintan Lyons OSB
ISBN 978-0-56771-011-6
Bloomsbury 2023
Paperback 378pp £24.99
Pastoral Review bookshop £22.49

That difference we can all recognise between evil as an adjective and evil as a noun is at the heart of this fascinating, well-written, scholarly, yet accessible book. The first, less problematic, is the superlative form of what we might call ‘very poor conduct’, for moral evil or ‘very bad things happening to people’ in natural evil, spanning, for the former, aspects of war, ethnic cleansing and atrocities and – in the latter, starvation, tsunamis, pandemics and terminal illness. The second use, as noun, however, points to the ‘other’. Recognisable yet impenetrable, a point of diversion for the believer and the nonbeliever, where the latter’s reticence to engage with what has traditionally been deemed the (unscientific) metaphysical, is contrasted with many, though not all, believers’ recognition that such a noun has agency and continued relevance, notwithstanding the rich contribution psychology brings to the debate, which Lyons covers comfortably. And this continued relevance of evil extends to the believer in the form of the so-called problem of evil, with the cry of where is God in this? poignantly brought out, for example, in C. S. Lewis’ A Grief Observed, witnessing the demise of his beloved wife to the ‘evil’ of cancer. Or more recently, one might think of Israel–Gaza.

Lyons traces the classic dilemma of the all-powerful and all-loving God, who appears not to be able, or willing, to eradicate evil, through well-sourced chapters on theodicies – those attempts at reconciling the existence of God and evil – in a manner that should interest anyone seeking to deepen their understanding.

A key player on Lyons’ stage is the devil him/her/its/their self/selves – real or imaginary, metaphysical or metaphorical. Lyon’s charts how, over many centuries, the devil has been approached very much as a conscious agent of malevolence, albeit recently doubted in favour of notions of evil lacking a ‘face’, but yet remaining, for people of all faiths and none, the fascinating interaction of the metaphysical and the worldly in responding to very bad things, however incomprehensible this is to the pure materialist.

Lyons approaches the Catholic Rite of Exorcism both theologically and psychologically, recognising the fluidity of both disciplines as they interplay within this extraordinary practice. Drawing on a wide range of sources, including Justin Martyr, Origen, Luther, Teresa of Avila, Moltmann, Barth and Rahner, Lyons successfully problematises the personified evil against those who would too quickly dispense with ‘it’ as either premodern superstition or as a pure psychological construct: ‘At the heart of this work is the issue with how to reconcile the understanding of the persistence of evil as a constant threatening fact in the world with the concept of what in the universal Christian tradition has been described as a personal devil, whose existence in today’s culture is too bizarre to be credible.’ (p. 6)

Lyons’ perspective – predominantly Catholic and ‘Western’ – is of course worthy of further augmentation from other geo-cultural standpoints. Nevertheless, it offers a wealth of well-sourced, well-argued and genuinely interesting material surrounding a ‘thing’ – entity or idea – an interest in which shows no sign of diminishing.

Simon Uttley, Headmaster, Blessed Hugh Faringdon Catholic School

Eve: How the Female Body Drove over 200 Hundred Million Years of Human Evolution
Cat Bohannon
ISBN 978-1-52915-617-1
Penguin 2024
Paperback 624pp £12.99
Pastoral Review bookshop £11.69

Eve offers an ambitious and compelling mapping of the female body’s instrumental role in shaping the trajectory of human history. Bohannon’s background in narrative science writing is evident, as she manages to weave together complex scientific concepts with engaging storytelling, making this book both informative and accessible.

The structure Bohannon deploys is strikingly original: she sets out to identify the ‘eve’, the origins of each aspect of human female biology, situating their beginnings in extinct creatures few readers will be familiar with. Lactation, menstruation and gestation are just a few of the processes she tracks, starting with the dawn of their evolution, introducing the reader to our likely evolutionary ‘mothers’.

There is no need to be intimidated by the science involved – Bohannon’s voice is extremely readable; she writes with ease and conversational flare about complex phenomena in such a way that a lay reader such as myself can get a sense of discovery and knowledge. This perhaps is what is most impressive about the book – the ease with which complex phenomena and vast expanses of time are compressed into readable, creatively structured chunks.

At times, this gift for synthesis can be a slippery slope towards reductiveness – as when she settles the trans gender debate in a footnote, somewhat odd to find in a book whose entire thesis proposes that the female body drove everything in the evolution of our species, from survival strategies to social structures. For example, Bohannon delves into the evolution of menstruation, tracing how it may have evolved as a way to optimise reproductive success and linking it to the development of social behaviours in early humans. Her discussion of menopause is equally compelling, suggesting that the extended post-reproductive lifespan of women could have played a critical role in the survival and flourishing of human communities. Such a gynocentric view of the world would be appealing to gender critical readers, and perhaps Bohannon wished to distance herself from these audiences. Still, a few paragraphs might have been more appropriate than a footnote.

Some also argue that in her enthusiasm to highlight the importance of women in human evolution, Bohannon occasionally downplays or oversimplifies the contributions of male evolutionary factors. Some readers might find this approach a bit one-sided, though it is clear that Bohannon’s intent is to balance the scales rather than dismiss the male perspective entirely.

Eve is a bold and thought-provoking work that exposes how under-researched and under-reported the specificity of female biology has been, offering a compelling retelling of human evolution by placing the female body at the centre of the story. Bohannon’s ability to combine rigorous science with storytelling makes this book a valuable addition to the field of evolutionary biology. While it may be dense for some readers, those who persevere will be rewarded with a deeper understanding of how the female body has shaped human history. Eve is a must-read for anyone interested in the origins of our species and the overlooked role of women in that journey.

Sofia Abasolo, Beckenham

Scottish Religious Poetry: From the Sixth Century to the Present
Edited by Linden Bicket, Emma Dymock and Alison Jack
ISBN 978-1-80083 047-9
Saint Andrew Press 2024
Hardback 320pp £25.00
Pastoral Review bookshop £22.50

This is quite simply a wonderful edited collection. Scottish Religious Poetry provides an update on a previous collection from 2000 that was produced by a different set of editors. A short introduction provides an erudite, yet readable, discussion on the thorny issue of what makes a poem ‘religious’, an account of the scope of the book and the rationale for the choices of the poets and the poems. In particular, the selection of new poets or different poems from the previous collection is well explained and justified. This collection is a delight, a treasure trove (if you will pardon the cliché) from the sixth century to the contemporary world. Historically, there is long tradition of religious poetry in Scotland that was focused on Christian topics and written from the perspective of the different denominations (Church of Scotland, Episcopal, Free churches, Roman Catholic). However, this collection also includes newer poets and poems that draw on other religious traditions, for example, The Gurdwara in Leith by Bashabi Fraser and Japanese Boxes (Daibutsu, Great Buddha, Kamakura) by Alan Spence. Many of the poets that would be expected to be included in this kind of collection are present: Robert Henryson, William Dunbar, Robert Fergusson, Robert Burns, Walter Scott and Robert Louis Stevenson (and see below). Gaelic poets are rightfully well represented and include male stalwarts such as Sorley MacLean and the Gaelic poetry of Ian Crichton Smith, but there is also a strong emphasis on female Gaelic poets: Anna MacKellar; Mary MacDonald; Catriona Montgomery and Meg Bateman. Some of the best loved twentieth-century Scottish religious poems are included, for example The Annunciation and One foot in Eden by Edwin Muir and the contrasting approach of The Good Thief by Tom Leonard. There are some welcome examples of Scottish humour, as in the hilarious display of hypocrisy in Holy Willie’s Prayer by Robert Burns and the pawky tone of Crowdieknowe by Hugh MacDiarmid. It is difficult not to be influenced by personal taste, and it is very pleasing to read poems by long-time favourites such as William Soutar, Edwin Morgan, Norman MacCaig and George Mackay Brown. George Mackay Brown, the Roman Catholic poet and author, is possibly the best known of all these poets outside of Scotland, and especially for poems and short stories with a religious theme. He is well represented here by two fine poems: Stations of the Cross and Christmas Poem. As with any good collection it is equally pleasing to be introduced to poems by newer poets such as The Bird that Never Flew by Niall O’Gallagher and Youma and the Three Kings by Janette Ayachi. If you are a devotee of Scottish religious poetry, you will find this edited collection an essential text. If this genre is new to you (and if so, shame on you!), this is the perfect place to start. Finally, thanks must be offered to the Saint Andrew Press, because the asking price is fabulous value for such a handsome and well produced hardback book.

Stephen J. McKinney, University of Glasgow

Educating in Faith: A History of the English Catholic Public School
Mark Cleary
978-1-78959-337-2
Sacristy Press 2024
Paperback 256pp £19.99
Pastoral Review bookshop £17.99

This is well-researched, at times amusing, but always interesting book which charts the journey of some of the Catholic Public, now Independent, schools from their earliest pre-Reformation days, through their ‘re-founding’ just before the re-establishment of the Catholic hierarchy in 1850, to their contemporary realisation. I say ‘some’ as, by its own admission, the book focuses almost exclusively on boys’ boarding schools – the dominant model for this sector until recent years – with only passing reference to girls’ independent schools and day schools. Cleary does note the ‘remarkable achievement’ of female religious communities in establishing a network of Catholic day and boarding schools for girls but acknowledges that whilst deserving of a ‘comprehensive study’ it is ’beyond the means’ of his book.

Having read the book I can understand why: it is a forensic trawl through archives, documentation and anecdote, the latter ensuring that this is no dry, historical overview but a book that is peppered with insight, historical and societal analysis and touches of wry humour. In charting this, the book follows a chronological format, with the first chapter chronicling events from c.1800 and the last bringing us up to the present day. The introduction and conclusion provide opportunity to examine key themes emerging from this arc and a consideration of the challenges, as well as successes of Catholic independent schools and their contribution to the mission of the Church on these shores. Interestingly, these themes sometimes sound very familiar: financial sustainability, pupil numbers, tensions between founding religious congregations and dioceses, but what does change is both the societal and religious landscapes within which they are enacted.

Cleary’s analysis of such issues is well evidenced and considered. For example, in reflecting upon the cultural shift that Vatican II engendered in schools whose daily life was ‘dominated by religious ritual and observance’, he remarks ‘that the impact of such change within the closed, almost claustrophobic, environment of the boarding school was perhaps even more marked than in the parish community’. When this comment is set within his detailed exposition of boarding school life at the time of Vatican II, its significance as an indicator of the start of a shift in Catholic education specifically in this context and more broadly is most interesting.

Sadly, no book about Catholic public schools would be complete without reference to the child sexual abuse scandals that emerged into the public sphere in recent years. Cleary devotes a whole chapter to this, focusing on the outcomes of the Independent Inquiry into Child Sexual Abuse, which he examines robustly and without compromise: It ‘does not make for easy reading’, he says, but it is ‘an important part of the history of Catholic public schools and cannot be ignored’. Indeed, it cannot and Cleary handles this with sensitivity and candour.

He concludes with a consideration of the contemporary landscape for Catholic independent schools: in terms of accountability, governance, oversight and transparency they are ever more closely aligned with the non-fee-paying Catholic school sector, but ‘how well they adapt to changing political and social attitudes and environments will be an important marker for the future’. As with all good reads, Cleary leaves us with more questions than answers, but Educating in Faith is a cogent, reflective and well-written book which shines a light on an influential but little examined part of the Catholic education vineyard.

Maureen Glackin, RE Advisor, Catholic Education Service

On Voice: Speech, Song, Silence: Human and Divine
Victoria Johnson
978-1-91365-798-7
Darton, Longman & Todd 2024
Paperback 192pp £14.99
Pastoral Review bookshop £13.49

On Voice displays a thoughtful and imaginative rethinking about the relation between God and voice (– the voice of God, the voice of a priest, and our individual voices).

The experience of a female priest is an interesting lens through which to take this creative journey, and we are reminded several times that it is only relatively recently that such a voice even existed, which is partly what makes this book special. Despite the noticeably absent Marian voice, the exploration of biblical and historical women’s voices is insightful and entertaining, and I would be surprised if Margery Kempe doesn’t become every reader’s new personal hero.

Johnson gives relevant and important critical analysis of the Church of England, and in Chapter 3, asks some significant sociological and existential questions of the institution.

After a few pages it becomes clear that this is also personal – it is not simply going to be a historical, theological or musicological work, but it is also a window into the female experience of the Church of England, punctuated with anecdotal evidence of Johnson’s childhood and experience.

There is a high level of self-awareness of her female and priestly state; but, as is always the risk with books which include a thread of the author’s personal life, occasionally her writing becomes a little too personal, falling into the category of self-indulgent semi-autobiographical writing. There is also the problem of retrospection, and at times I asked myself if hindsight was playing an influential role in some of Johnson’s explorations of her experiences and feelings.

While there isn’t a total imbalance between the personal and professional, in fact some of the most interesting parts of this book are the explorations of niche pockets of history, such as the chapter about the castrati.
This volume should perhaps more accurately be classified as a series of reflections, as the chapters seem to dart from one stream of consciousness to another, sometimes rather tenuously linked to the book’s overall subject matter. Indeed, Johnson states in the first chapter that ‘uniformity seems to worry God’. While I like this idea very much as a playful way to argue for unity in diversity, by the end of the book I wondered if Johnson was taking this a bit too literally by writing a book that can be described as anything but uniform – but perhaps this is exactly the point.

Our world is not uniform, and there isn’t one single way in which to interpret the voice of God. This book tells us that it’s ok to hear God in unusual and non-traditional ways, and invites readers to unlock their own imaginations, to hear the voice of God in all aspects of our lives, to let that voice in, and to listen.

Stephanie MacGillivray, Rome

Thomas Merton in California: The Redwoods Conferences & Letters
Edited and introduced by David M. Odorisio
ISBN 979-8-40080-031-3
Liturgical Press 2024
Paperback 462pp £47.99
Pastoral Review bookshop £43.19

Thomas Merton died in 1968, at the age of 53. Through his writings he made a significant contribution to the public understanding of theology, prayer and the spiritual life in general. This book is divided into two parts. The first part is an account of the Redwoods conferences, and the second part is correspondence between Merton and Mother Myrian Dardenne and others. The story of the conferences begins in 1962, when a small number of nuns left Belgium to set up a new community in Northern California. They set sail and having docked in New York, spent time travelling across America visiting various monasteries. One of the monasteries they visited was Gethsemani Abbey in Kentucky where they met Fr Louis, who unbeknown to them was also known as Thomas Merton. Sr Myrian and Merton developed a friendship from that meeting and continued it via correspondence, which makes up the second part of this book. Merton was invited to deliver two conferences to the community once they had settled in Northern California. This book is the result of those conferences. They are being published now because their audio recordings had remained unpublished in the community’s archive until recently. This book is fascinating on many levels. Firstly, we are afforded the opportunity of reading Merton in a new way. This is not a detailed treatise on one of his areas of expertise, rather, it is a conversation between Merton and the community about prayer and therefore a more intimate and informal encounter with him, and a source of real insight for the reader. It is also an opportunity for those who know little about how religious communities function and how they experience retreats. Indeed, the best way to read this book is to imagine that you are a participant of the retreat, rather than an observer. If you manage to engage with the material in this way, you should have a rewarding experience. These conferences also occur at a time of transition and renewal for the Church. The Second Vatican Council had only just come to an end, and to engage with Thomas Merton during these extraordinary times is indeed a rare opportunity. What makes this book particularly poignant though, is that Merton delivered these conferences shortly before his untimely death, at a conference on spirituality in Thailand. These conferences then are the last chance to know what he was thinking and praying about just before he died. Merton is well known and studied across the world, with many societies dedicated to him, therefore there will be many who will be delighted at the publication of this book. It is important though to emphasise that this book is also accessible to people who know little about Merton and his work. It is a good book to read as in introduction to him as it has extensive footnotes and a thorough index which will guide the reader through Merton’s body of work and many other spiritual writers. In short, this book will be treasured by people who want to know more about Thomas Merton and about prayer for many years to come.

Fr Charles Coyle, St Andrew’s Foundation, University of Glasgow