BOOK REVIEWS

Faith and Theology. By M. D. Chenu, O. P. New York: The Macmillan Company, 1968. Pp. 227. $6.95.

There is a prophetical ring to the titles of these chapters collected from articles published by Chenu over the last forty years. The contents range over the relation between biblical and theological language, the relationship between theologians and bishops, the spirituality of matter, corporality and temporality as human situation, the solidarity of the proletariat and the solidarity of the Mystical Body, and the condition of man in a technological civilization. Many of these essays owe their origin to Chenu's remarkable availability to all the important movements of French intellectual life. Father Chenu's Parisian study is today, as it has been for forty years, the gathering place for historians, scientists, sociologists, philosophers, artists, and theologians.

For the American reader, it is not out of place to mention what is well-known to the French. Anyone hoping to explain the development of the Catholic revival of the last quarter-century will find the personality of Chenu frequently an important factor in some of its greatest moments.

Returning from doctoral studies in Rome, Chenu became in the late 1920's the disciple and protégé of Mandonnet, the historian. After him, and along with Etienne Gilson, Chenu produced a theological style which has marked the whole school of French Dominicans in this century. He was sensitive to Sertillanges's proposal that theology must relearn to respect the revealed datum as the fundamental norm of true theology. He also followed Mandonnet in promoting an historical study of St. Thomas. His then controversial book, Le Saulchoir, une école de théologie, published in 1937, was effectively an appeal to go back to the sources of Christian theology precisely in order to do justice to the great medieval theological tradition of St. Thomas and his commentators. It is noteworthy that this work, which today strikes us as in no way remarkable except for the enthusiastic vigor of its style, met with extreme disapproval in Rome and was subsequently removed from circulation.

Despite Rome's disapproval, however, Chenu's influence did distinctly mark the development of one of the most important European theological schools of this century, viz., Le Saulchoir, the Dominican House of Studies of the Province of Paris. Both during its location at Kain, in Belgium, and later in the 1930's at Juvisy and Etiolles (its present location), Le Saulchoir has been the school of a number of important theological personalities. Yves Congar must be numbered as the most prominent of these;

he has long been Chenu's most famous disciple and colleague. Likewise Dominique and André Dubarle, André Liégé, Claude Geffré, and Edouard Schillebeeckx have all been affiliated at some time with Le Saulchoir, as have been such biblical scholars as Roland de Vaux and Pierre Benoit. It was Chenu more than any other who saw this extraordinary theological school through the teeming excitement, the frequent conflicts, and the shifting climate of the past twenty-five years.

Chenu taught Greek, History of Dogma, and began a course introducing the beginners in theology to the literature and thought of medieval theology. This course eventually led to his book, Toward Understanding Saint Thomas (English translation, 1964). This introduction is a total history: the social and economic dimensions of the period are blended with a philological and literary understanding of the period. It is a sort of history of whatever manifestation of human vitality might give added meaning to the theological phenomenon which was the corpus Thomisticum. Chenu's most respected work, La théologie au douzième siècle (1957), is another product of this same methodology.

It is not quite so surprising, then, that Dominique Chenu, known principally as an historian and medievalist, should have produced the present thoroughly contemporary and relevant work. His approach to the 20th Church is much like his approach to 12th and 13th century Christendom. He finds clues to the real work of theology in the increased socialization of man, the economic organization of nations, and new patterns of class structure. Pope John XXIII's by-word becomes a keystone for Chenu's theology: " The signs of the times " are an inescapable hermeneutic for where grace and theology must operate. " The whole of man, all his capacities and all his activities, is assumed by grace. . . . And the social structure of man is fundamental to his development. . . . If the social dimension is not assumed by Christ, a basic element of man is rejected and lost."

This authentically Thomistic emphasis on the legitimate autonomy of the temporal order finds its strongest expression in the chapter on the human situation: " Corporality and Temporality." There Chenu shows how the concepts of time and body fluctuated between Platonic-Augustinian disdain for matter and Aristotelian insistence upon hylomorphic union with true mutual causality of matter and form. Yet each moment toward the development of high scholasticism made a contribution of genius. Augustine does not become a villain, even if one passes a severe judgment upon Augustinian exemplarism. " We have gone beyond the anthropology of Aristotle who had no sense of history; we have borrowed some of the Christian personalism of Augustine. But it is from Aristotle that we get the sense of the concrete human situation which the neo-PIatonic spiritualism of Augustine ignored--and still ignores wherever it dominates Christian thought. . . . Augustine does have a sense of temporality, but

he regards it as an evil (symbolized and realized by senile decay) from which Christ will free us; Thomas Aquinas recognizes the meaning and the value of corporality both of man and of the cosmos. It is on this basis, on the philosophical level at any rate, that St. Thomas founds his optimistic vision of man and of the world."

This openness at once to Augustine's sense of personal responsibility before God and to Aristotle's epistemological and psychological realism are the Thomistic foundation for historicity and involvement in the world. Man's intellect is an embodied intellect; and to be in a body is to be in time. " Time enters into the definition of the human being, no doubt as an index to his weakness in his condition as a creature, but especially as an essential co-ordinate of his existence in the world. This human time expresses itself by the process of aging, the inevitable effect of the changeable quality of matter. But it is by no means the result of a failure of the spirit and must not be connected with the consequences of sin. The reason is that all was not supplied together: the creation continues, and man is in the midst of time as co-operator with the eternal God."

The last chapter deals with the condition of man in a technological civilization. The problem is the fear that desacralization will mean de-Christianization. " Technology involves man frankly in the making of the universe. Man assumes this power of world-making; he gives the universe its meaning, and in it he experiences and affirms his own autonomy. The world is ' profane' in its nature and its history. At this level there is no divine intervention to compete with, or even share in, the rational, calculated, mechanical activity of man. Does God then lose his raison d'être? Certainly not! Nor is his presence diminished. .  .. If religion is to be an emanation of faith in the word of God it will strike off the shackles of primitive ignorance and discover the real presence of the Creator within the autonomous human project of world-construction. It is a feeble theology which would impose on God something which human co-creative liberty can itself accomplish."

Here we have seen the two themes that unify the research of Chenu's entire work: the anthropological solidarity of man with the cosmos and the co-creative responsibility of man in an on-going creative order. Chenu's attitude in this work is perhaps best summed up in his comment: "It is virtually blasphemous to think of the faith of Christ and the success of the incarnation as bound up with a pre-technological civilization." New awarenesses are springing up constantly of what cosmic solidarity means-- in a technological and industrial era, in a world dominated by new sciences. It is difficult for our concept of God to keep pace with our awareness of man's autonomous creativity. Chenu's work here certainly does not solve all the problems of the theological integration of human technology and divine creativity. But it does make a convincing case for asking the question meaningfully within the context of those two themes of cosmic solidarity and human-divine co-creativity.

It is easy to concur with E. L. Mascall's judgment: this book of Chenu's could hardly be bettered as an example of the way in which real theology is relevant to real life.

Paul Philibert, O. P.

Providence College

Providence, R. I.

The True Priest. The Priesthood as Preached and Practised by St. Augustine. By Cardinal Michele Pellegrino. New York: Philosophical Library, 1968. Pp. 184. $6.00.

The Cardinal Archbishop of Turin has given us in this book not a treatise on the priesthood but a series of valuable reflections on some of the problems of the priesthood as he has seen them in the light of his readings in St. Augustine. His method has been for the most part to allow his distinguished mentor to speak for himself, adding his own observations as they seem to correspond with the demands of the particular circumstances in which the chapters of the book were originally composed.

Cardinal Pellegrino's immediate concern in the publication of this book has been the spiritual growth of the priests of his own archdiocese. His view of the priesthood has not been distorted, however, by scientific surveys or by tensions generated within specific areas of priestly activity. The true priest, as the Cardinal sees him, is one who responds humbly and unselfishly to the demands of his priestly environment. From the deep well-springs of an enlightened interior life the charity which spreads God's mantle over his works of zeal finds intelligent and meaningful direction.

The Cardinal is especially concerned about the priests of his archdiocese who have been led away from the priestly family by " painful happenings whose inner meaning is known to God alone." His burden, as he thus reflects upon it, is that of every episcopal ordinary. His plea for the priestly holiness that will overcome defections is timeless in its validity. He never loses sight of the eternal reality of the priesthood as Christ instituted it as he ponders the disastrous consequences of passing events.

The first seven chapter headings, each a direct quotation from St. Augustine, serve as starting points for the Cardinal's reflection and analysis.

" Taken by surprise and made a priest." In this chapter the Cardinal draws from two of St. Augustine's sermons the guiding principles which seem to have led the future Bishop of Hippo to renounce the promising worldly career which was opening up to him. Augustine did not go apart from those who love the world merely to vie with those who hold rule over the people. He did not aspire to become a priest. These words do not imply, of course, the kind of unwillingness that was evident, for

example, in Maurice de Talleyrand-Périgord, who never should have been allowed to enter the seminary, much less to be consecrated a bishop. What Augustine really means is that his commitment to pursue the ideals of priestly holiness encountered the deadening pressures of worldly realities. He experienced a healthy dread of administrative responsibility. Yet he saw the hand of God behind it all, and he willingly sacrificed the joys of heavenly contemplation as the immediately urgent problems of his position commanded his attention.

Augustine sees the priesthood as a call to the service of the Church. And the Cardinal adds his own observation that " Augustine would certainly not have agreed with those who boast loudly of the illustrious contributions made by priests and bishops of various eras to the arts and sciences, when theological studies and the care of souls may have been badly neglected."

Cardinal Pellegrino finds Augustine's concept of the core of the priestly ministry in a phrase formulated in two of his early letters and recalled shortly before his death in a conversation with his biographer Possidius: the priest is a man who administers to the people the Mystery and the Word of God. The Cardinal notes that the word " mystery " embraces the various liturgical aspects of the episcopal office. Augustine, he says, was inclined to meditate on the inner truth of the Word of God and its meaning for the Christian life. He had some misgivings about " rapturous reflections on, or technical tabulation of, the externals of liturgical practice." (p. 39) He thought of every Sunday as a little Easter on which the Resurrection of the Lord was to be commemorated in the liturgical assembly presided over by the bishop who listened to the readings, celebrated the sacrifice and distributed Communion. He attached great importance to the ministry to sinners and to the expiation by penance of scandalous faults. The Cardinal notes that Augustine does not speak of the dignity of the priesthood in language comparable to that of St. John Chrysostom. Nor does he meditate at length on the intimate relation between the priest and Christ which has inspired many recent studies of the priesthood. He sees the priesthood essentially as a social function, by which the priest is consecrated unremittingly to the service of the Church.

In the fifth chapter this concept of service to the Church is elaborated in its relation to the preaching of the Word. The preacher, Augustine says, is the tongue of God. His own person is of little account. Whoever he may be, it is Christ who speaks through him. The Cardinal brings together the scriptural figures used by Augustine to represent the nature, value and efficacy of the Word of God: food, light, rain, manna, seed, etc. Perhaps this is the least attractive part of the book and the part least calculated to challenge the reader.

In the following chapter, however, the Cardinal develops a theme which makes his previous observations about the ministry of preaching more

meaningful. He recalls Augustine's strong conviction about the need of personal meditation by those to whom the Word of God is preached. Only God can speak effectively to the human understanding. Only He can touch the heart and move the will. The faithful can be " taught of God " (John 6: 45) only when there is faith in their hearts, so that Christ may teach them what the preacher tries to drum into their ears.

At the same time, the Cardinal recalls Augustine's deep sense of his responsibility to preach what the Lord wants the way the Lord wants him to preach it. " Dangerous is the office of preaching; safe is the status of the disciple." The preacher must not be afraid to speak out about matters which his hearers will not like. Augustine's words to a congregation at Bulla Regia are meaningful for our own day:

" I would not have said these things to you had I heard you well spoken of. But had I kept silent, I fear I would be judged together with you. God therefore willed, my brethren, that I should be passing through here. My brother (the local bishop) detained me, commanding, constraining and enjoining me to speak to you. Of what should I then have spoken to you if not of what frightens me most? " And when his congregation applauded him, Augustine told them that their plaudits were not a feather in his cap but a millstone around his neck.

The Cardinal clarifies in the last chapter of his book the notion of the true priest as he finds it in Augustine's writings. It was necessary for Augustine to avoid the heretical implications of the Donatist teaching that the priesthood is nullified in those whose lives are scandalous and sacrilegious. An unworthy minister, Augustine says, does not cease for this reason to be a true minister. He gives something that is true, and thus valid, because it is of God. An unworthy priest, however, lacks that truth, or genuineness, which consists in a proper correspondence of his life to his office.

This commentary, though selective and summary, will hopefully afford some indication of the depth and timeliness of Cardinal Pellegrino's study. The work had been enhanced by a translation vigorous in its expression and seemingly faithful both to the Cardinal's own words and his citations from St. Augustine. This kind of spiritual literature will help to fill the void created by an over-secularized approach to the problem of priestly training that seems to overlook, if not positively to exclude, the formation of a truly priestly character in those who are to serve the Church.

+Thomas J. Riley, D. D.

St. Peter's Rectory

Cambridge, Mass.

Contemporary Spirituality. Edited by Robert Gleason. New York: Macmillan, 1968. Pp. 343. $6.95.

In the publishing trade this volume would be called a " non-book," because its contents should not have been put in a hard-cover book. The reasons for this are several: practically all the chapters of the book are reprints of articles that previously appeared in French, German, British or American journals; some of the articles originally appeared fifteen years ago, so that one may wonder if they represent the thought of the author today.

Moreover, the title of the book is misleading. It is not a treatment of contemporary spirituality in the Church today but a discussion of various problem areas of religious life. Actually, the sub-title of the book, " Current Problems in Religious Life," should have been used as the title.

S. Lyonnet, S. J., opens the volume with a discussion of St. Paul's doctrine on freedom and the law, and he explains that, although the Christian is freed from the external law, he is nevertheless obliged to lead a holy and virtuous life because of the law of the Spirit. Because of this internal dynamism, the Christian is able to fulfill every Christian precept with complete liberty as a son of God.

The next few chapters treat of the theological virtues. H. Holstein, S. J., takes up the question of faith, stressing its role as an experience of God, who is faithful to his promises. The Christian's experience of God's fidelity arouses a response of fidelity, obedience and hope in the soul of the believer. B. Olivier, O. P., then discusses the meaning of Christian hope, which he sees as a communal virtue that has concrete existence in individual Christians. Finally, R. Gleason, S. J., elaborates several themes related to fraternal charity. After stating that love of neighbor is necessitated by man's very nature as a social being, he emphasizes the need of fraternal love on both the natural and supernatural levels of the Christian life. For Gleason, love is always a value; " even if it be a guilty love, it is still a great invitation to grace, so long as it is a genuine love." (p. 36) Approaching the problem of how the Christian can love Christ in his neighbor, Gleason rejects the explanation whereby we love our neighbor " as if" he were Christ. Rather, he maintains that, in probing to the utterly unique depth of the other person as person, we find God, who gives and sustains that uniqueness of person, and if the person be in grace, we actually find the Trinity dwelling in the soul through grace. (cf. p. 39)

Approaching the specific problems of religious life, K. Rahner, S. J., poses numerous intriguing questions concerning the meaning of religious poverty and its adaptation to the modern world. One of the themes he repeats constantly is that, as long as the religious community is not poor, its members cannot be said to be living poverty. Rahner tends to reject the identification of poverty with dependence on the superior for the use

of material goods. Yet, he sees the need to provide a theology of poverty which will contain the essential notes of economic insecurity, witness and service to the People of God in the apostolate. Rahner recognizes also the need for an ascetical element in the practice of poverty, and in this respect he calls for an " asceticism with regard to consumptibles and luxuries." This can be observed if religious and their communities restrict themselves to legitimate needs and necessities.

Treating the question of celibacy, B. Haring, C. SS. R., limits himself to a discussion of various types of celibacy and thus justifies the celibate life which is freely accepted under the vow of chastity.

The problems related to religious obedience are treated in the next three chapters. T. Dubay, S. M., takes up the question of the psychological possibility of intellectual obedience; K. Rahner, S. J., offers some reflections on the nature of religious obedience; J. McKenzie, S. J., explains the concepts of authority and power in the New Testament. Doubtless, the attentive reader will see discrepancies between the teaching of Dubay and that of Rahner, but Dubay is concerned with the precise problem of submission of judgment to the command of a superior, while Rahner is describing obedience in terms of a commitment to a specific mode of life. However, this reviewer found Dubay's explanation unsatisfactory and wonders whether the author would explain the problem today as he did when he first published the article in Review for Religious in 1960.

Four other chapters of the book which are of special importance to religious life are those on prayer, the theology of work, contemplation and action, and transformation of the world and flight from the world. L. Lochet, writing on prayer, makes the statement: " Anyone can squeeze a few prayers into a life that remains outside the meaning of the Scriptures, but one cannot live a life of prayer, as the Gospels invite us to, if our human, this-world life is the center of our existence." (p. 171) He then proceeds to explore the manner in which a Christian can pray always, in accordance with the Gospel admonition.

N. Kinsella, O. C. S. O., writes of the theology of work but adds little to the traditional and as yet undeveloped doctrine. K. Truhlar, S. J., provides a thorough and satisfying study of the critical issue which lies at the root of the renewal and adaptation of religious life today: involvement with the world vs. separation from the world.

The chapter on contemplation and action--another theological dilemma for many modern religious--originally appeared in 1954 in a German theological review. Here again, the reviewer feels that E. Coreth, S. J., would hardly subscribe today to all that he wrote in his original article. As it stands, however, Coreth's interpretation of the teaching of St. Thomas Aquinas on action and contemplation and on the "vita mixta" will not go unchallenged by other theologians.

Other chapters in the book touch on a variety of subjects: holiness in

the Church, our Lady, suffering, childlike spirituality, emotional maturity, psychiatric aspects of maturity, and a sociological perspective of the crisis of Christianity. Some of them are written by internationally famous authors such as A. Plé, O. P., B. Ahern, C. P., L. Beirnaert, S. J., and J. McKenzie, S. J. Nevertheless, one wonders why those articles were included in a book that promises to treat of current problems of religious life, while other critical areas of religious living were not discussed. Apart from three or four chapters that contain excellent material (and could have been read in the magazines in which they were first published), this book does not live up to the promise of its title or the blurb on the jacket.

Jordan Aumann, O. P.

Aquinas Institute of Theology

Dubuque, Iowa

Personalities and Powers. By Robert E. Meagher. New York: Herder and Herder, 1968. Pp. 142. $3.50.

This book is aptly subtitled " a theology of personal becoming," which might more aptly have been prefaced by " an approach toward." For its contents and aim seem to be somewhat tentative and exploratory. At the end of his introduction, the author states: " Our project, then, will be to disclose the ways in which one might water himself down and to explore the chance, the limit, the possibility of man in an attempt to give it, or discover, its meaning. Throughout these reflections we will repeatedly confront three critical questions: Who am I? Who is my Lord? Which kingdom do I serve? What will emerge, it is hoped, is the realization that each of these questions cannot be answered without answering the other two, that, in fact, they form a single inquiry into the meaning of the human limit. Personalities and powers and kingdoms all merge in the experience of human becoming, the experience of becoming a person, the experience of the infinite chance that is man, a chance that he, that I, am infinitely responsible to exploit. And if I am to ask who I am, I must then be ready to serve a king and to further a kingdom; for man is nothing in himself." (pp. 30-31) A theology of man's becoming is still very much in development.

Robert Meagher, a 1966 graduate of Notre Dame University and a doctoral student in philosophical theology at the University of Chicago Divinity School when the book appeared, clearly declares his complete commitment to modern philosophy as a preparation and basis for his reflections upon Christian revelation. He considers " the historicity of truth, the ambiguity of truth, and the personal uniqueness of truth " (p. 22)

to be its cardinal assumptions, and that Martin Heidegger is the " paradigmatic figure of modern philosophy in our century." (p. 84) Meagher contrasts classical and contemporary wisdom by proposing that Plato tried to ascend conceptually from the cave to contemplate eternal (non-historical truth), while a Heideggerian project is a poetic ascent from the cave where " one creates values under historically conditioned (non-eternal) revelatory dispensations." (p. 85) Hegel is the great philosopher who really made possible the inquiry into the historicity of truth, and Heidegger has been the outstanding twentieth-century continuator of his thought.

The author maintains that, while classical philosophy was capable of raising the most basic questions about the world and man, its belief that truth is eternal makes any answers to such questions quite meaningless to modern man. For instance, although he himself acknowledges the probative power of the aristotelian-thomistic arguments for God's existence, they are not meaningful for him because of their powerlessness to convince him of God's love. His fundamental philosophical stance, therefore, is that truth and value are derived from personal decisions and, consequently, that what is true and good for one person is not necessarily so for another. He takes up the actual argument of the book in this context of his understanding of and commitment to modern philosophy.

For the purposes of that argument, he proposes that there are three standpoints on life: the decisional, the absolute, and the observational. These standpoints are different postures assumed by man in time and may vary during the course of one's life, although he usually lives in the standpoint of his chief concerns. The decisional is characterized by a conception of truth as authenticity growing out of complete self-determination and invention in total freedom. The absolute standpoint adopts the unrealizable ideal of pure objectivism and the possession of absolute truth. The observational is oriented toward truth as the discovery of approximations or generalizations through interpersonal relationships. The author considers that the absolute standpoint is an absurd ideal and that truth is relative from either of the other two standpoints. " Finally, if there is absolute truth, we must conclude that it lies beyond standpoints." (p. 41)

How one moves beyond particular standpoints toward the ultimate meaning of life calls for a further distinction that corresponds to the difference between the observational and decisional standpoints. This is the distinction between immediate and imaginary consciousness. The former occurs in moments of discovery and understanding that result from the awareness of impressions made upon man by the manifold stimuli of the immediate environment. The latter takes place in moments of invention and decision in which the past and future are both rendered present through memory and anticipation, when one's whole life, as it were, lies before him to be interpreted and decided. Imaginary consciousness

is uniquely human and enables man to encounter more than problems in life, namely, mysteries. It is in moments of freedom and creativity that man is confronted with the certainties of his own personal existence and of death and is called to decide either for being, or nothingness, as the final destiny of his becoming.

If a man opts for nothingness, then he absolutizes some standpoint by closing himself off from other possibilities. To opt for being, however, is to orient himself toward all truth, fully assenting to it in advance, amidst a life of uncertainty, of overcoming his prejudices and illusions. Thus the certainty of the quest for truth keeps him continually open regarding the mystery of life's ultimate meaningfulness in his dynamic and ever developing relationship with others and the world. This Socratic faith, as the author terms it, becomes Christian faith when the revelation of Jesus Christ is explicitly accepted into one's personal and eternal consciousness as the fully adequate answer to his open-ended quest. It still remains very much faith, however, and in no way removes the Christian from the realm of mystery.

For Meagher, the point of departure from particular standpoints is " the experience of personal becoming . . . a coming to consciousness and a coming to decisiveness." (p. 60) The open-ended quest for truth that follows upon the decision to live for being rather than nothingness is a continuously dynamic dialectic developing in depth amidst the ambiguities of life. It is a striving " to know all that one can know in the face of the knowledge of ignorance and to be all that one can be in the face of the threat of nothingness." (p. 61) He looks upon Tillich's method of correlation as involving a dialectic similar to what he proposes to be constitutive of faith, in that man himself is the question that must be posed before the revelatory answer can be meaningful. Faith as a quest finds in its seeking a clue to God's presence in existence, especially in the experiencing of created love as a prophetic promise pointing beyond itself to uncreated love. And so man is borne beyond any particular standpoint to an experience of the transcendent through the decision that the horizon of his hopes transcends the human limit.

The quest of Christian faith is founded upon the conviction that the revelation of Jesus Christ responds to man's openness toward truth. This dialectic of becoming oneself and becoming a Christian is lifelong, beginning with the original decision of conversion. Salvation, therefore, is not so much an assumed state as a path to be traversed. " What man confesses in both creation and redemption is that the word of God alone discloses the truth of all that comes to be and that this truth is the generous self-communication of Yahweh, the establishment of a covenant in which man is to trust for all things." (p. 109) On the other hand, the rejection of salvation is a denial of the absolute authority of God's Word to interpret the historical existence of his people. " To sin, then, is to recognize an

agency other than Yahweh's in the working out of Israel's destiny or to question the benevolence of Yahweh in the guidance of the people of God." (p. 111) And this saving action of Yahweh " pervades every realm of life, public and private, religious and secular." (p. 113)

This book might be typified as an apologia pro vita sua by a young Christian intellectual. It is difficult reading, not only because of its profound content and intricate dialectic but also because too often it lacks a clarity of style. Nevertheless, it is worth the effort for those who are interested in the reflections of a young philosophical theologian upon the reasonableness of his stance on reality and faith. Its communicable value consists mainly in providing one paradigm for others to consider in their own self-questioning about their quest for the ultimate meaning of life. The Christian reader can behold in the author a model of one thinking believer who has come to grips with the mysterious depths of his faith and, through a probing dialectic, has preserved for himself both the human creativity and divine gratuitousness of his Christian vocation. He has resolved for himself rather well the inevitable tensions between the free and responsible activity of the believer, on the one hand, and the continual openness to the saving action of God's revealing and mysterious presence on the other. Man is called to respond to God's plan for him by the dynamic discovery of it in a lifelong quest of gradually becoming himself and a Christian. Consequently, he is not creative in the sense that he invents his own plan of life. " Man's most appropriate response to salvation, to the revelation of the truth of his own identity and that of all creation, is prayer or confession of the sort that one lives as well as speaks." (p. 140)

While some, probably several in our society, will be able to identify themselves with the author's apologetical pilgrimage, others will have not a few problems with the gaps in his thought. Their critical minds will not be satisfied with the way he leaps from standpoints and Socratic faith to Christian faith in his process of human and Christian becoming. Along the path there is not always continuity between his insights. For instance, his assertion that " there is an instinctive intuition which says that life without love is meaningless," while valid in itself, does not seem to be sufficiently supported by his rather relativistic notion of truth. More basically, the problem is that he has not really grounded the truth-value of such an assertion in a viable theory of theological epistemology. His work would have greatly benefited by devoting more consideration to the thought of theologians like Paul Tillich and Bernard Lonergan. Their notions about truth as historically, socially and culturally conditioned are rooted in a systematic epistemological stance that is basic to any reflective justification of one's option for being rather than nothingness regarding the mystery of life's ultimate meaningfulness. For, unless there is some quality in truth as we experience it by which it can point us absolutely

in the right direction, then our human consciousness seems utterly powerless to orient us toward the divine Absolute. Consequently, our Christian faith would be radically and totally discontinuous with our experience of personal becoming.

The apparent absence of any significant statements about the question of analogy and symbolism in religious language is a sign that this book is not prepared to confront the contemporary problems of belief and unbelief in their more technical dimensions. Although the author maintains that his commitment to modern philosophy does not blind him to other alternatives of theologizing, it does appear to have narrowed his vision enough to keep him from exposing his own notions to the critical light of more classical approaches. In his introduction (p. 21) he would ask that his position be heard in the private forum of an individual's reasons for the way and the why of his life, if it cannot be successfully defended " in the court of the history of ideas." But the fact of the matter is that he has chosen to publish his ideas, and so the public courts of theological learning have a right, indeed a responsibility, to hear their defense in the context of the history of ideas. I consider it fortunate for all of us in the academic community of theology that such a promising young Christian thinker has chosen to share his reflections in a book; and we look forward to hearing more from him. In the meantime, it is my hope that he will permit the wisdom of the ages to enlighten and mature his position more fully, at least as it is reflected through the minds of great contemporaries whose philosophical theologies are modern classics.

Frederick M. Jelly, O. P.

Dominican House of Studies

Washington, D. C.

De Homine. By Aloisius Bogliolo. Rome: The Lateran University Press, 1968. Pp. 395, with bibliography and name index.

This first of an intended three-volume treatise covering the entire field of philosophy by a distinguished professor of the Lateran University concerns itself with the study of man. It would appear that the two projected volumes will treat of the world and of God.

While the present volume is entitled De Homine, it cuts a somewhat wider swath than most manuals in philosophical psychology or anthropology. It is made up of what, in effect, are three distinct treatises of almost equal length. The first treats of those problems which are ordinarily covered in Logic; the second covers the traditional area of Critica or Gnoseology, and the third takes up the questions ordinarily treated in philosophical psychology.

The work claims to be an exposition of perennial philosophy according to the principles of Aquinas, updated to meet contemporary needs according to the norms laid down by Vatican II. Yet, the reader may seriously question whether this aim has been realistically met. The exposition of the philosophia perennis is certainly there, although there is little evidence of an attempt to correlate it with contemporary philosophical thought. Apart from a brief historical survey of some twenty-five pages which begins with early oriental philosophy and concludes with some of the prominent Thomist philosophers of the twentieth century, there is scarcely more than a passing mention of any philosopher other than St. Thomas himself. Exceptions occur only where various philosophers are listed as adversaries of a particular thesis, and in these instances the account is always brief and without a searching analysis of the positions described. One might also legitimately query whether the method the author employs is not more closely related to that of theology than of philosophy, for in numerous instances the authority alone of Aquinas would seem sufficient to prove a point. Consequently, it is to be feared that the reader would search in vain in this volume for fresh insights into contemporary philosophy and/or its relation to the philosophy of Aquinas.

On the positive side of the ledger, however, it must be said that in De Homine the author presents us with an extremely well-ordered synthesis of the philosophy of Aquinas as it pertains to logic, epistemology and philosophical psychology. He has a truly magisterial command of the thought of Aquinas, coupled with a singular gift for clear and concise exposition. His analysis of the nature of logic and its relation to metaphysics, as well as of the relation of judgment to reasoning and to the act of existence, is truly profound. One is aware that the author is not merely repeating the arguments of Aquinas, but that he has carefully weighed and counter-weighed them until he has been able to present a well-balanced and concise synthesis of his thought.

It also seems that there is much to be said for the author's combining of logic, epistemology and philosophical psychology in one volume. This approach serves to underline the sometimes partially overlooked fact that all of philosophy has to do with being, and that man himself finds both his ontological and psychic center to reside squarely within the horizon of being.

Since the book is in Latin, it will be of little practical use to the ordinary undergraduate student in college. Professors of philosophy, however, will surely find the volume of value no matter how great their expertise in the philosophy of Aquinas. As an accurate and well-organized synthesis of Aquinas's thought on almost all problems dealing with man and knowledge, it would, I believe, be hard to improve upon. Further, the wealth of brief but extremely apt quotations from Aquinas renders the volume valuable as a source book for the latter's thought on the central problems concerning man and his knowledge.

Finally, the volume is magnificently edited, though it is in soft cover. It is genuinely to be regretted, however, that there is no true index of subjects but only a detailed listing of chapter titles and subtitles. Almost equally regrettable is the absence of an index of the quotations from Aquinas according to subject matter and treatise. The inclusion of these items would greatly have enhanced the utility of the volume.

James B. Reichmann, S. J.

Seattle University

Seattle, Washington

Building the Human. By Robert O. Johann, S. J. New York: Herder and Herder, 1968. Pp. 192. $4.50.

Father Johann proposes a " rebuilding" of the human, both as philosopher and as historian of human thought. Just as a man does not begin from scratch in building a human existence, neither does the author begin from scratch in his musings upon the task. There are strong indications of the influence of H. Richard Niebuhr, John Dewey, John Macmurray and Teilhard de Chardin. The blend is both extremely personal and extremely urbane. And the touch is finally that of a pragmatist in the best sense of the intellectual tradition of Dewey and James.

What Father Johann does, it appears, is to put human thought and activities into a broader context than the context of systematic allegiances. In this Johann is eclectic--except that his eclecticism is reduced by a personal synthesis that is half the result of poetic statement, half the autobiographical insinuation of his personal conviction. Throughout, there is often an unspoken comparison implied in his style: he is frequently describing Niebuhr's Man-the-Responder, but he is always keeping Man-the-Consumer or Man-the-Onlooker on the horizon for contrast's sake.

Building the Human frequently reaches heights of real eloquence, as when comparing thought, feeling and reality. " Feelings are not arbitrary, isolated occurrences taking place under our skins. They are the pervasive and unifying qualities of the interactive process between person and environment that is human life itself. Instead of being irrelevant to what is going on, they are its culminating sense. . . . In relation, then, to reality, feelings are far from frivolous distractions. Instead they are the ultimate qualitative differences in that inclusive transaction which is reality."

And in speaking of love: " Some inkling of love's power can be had by each of us if we but recall those rare and privileged moments when, with sudden splendor, the brightness of love burst into our lives. . . . We came alive. Possibilities for existing in ways we had forgotten, in ways

that made our past routines appear a barren desert--possibilities that summoned forth a creativity we did not know we had, that infinitely enriched our present by holding up to us a future without bounds--newly quickened our minds and hearts. . . . What being-loved makes being do is precisely be."

Synthesis for Johann seems to mean not just a theoretical synthesis of insights from many schools; it seems to mean, above all, a synthesis of philosophy and experience. In giving a concrete manifestation of how he has done this for himself, philosopher Johann has made the project itself both credible and intelligible.

Paul Philibert, O. P.

Providence College

Providence, R. I.

Der Aggressionstrieb und das Böse. By Winfried Czapiewski-Georg Scherer. Essen: Driewer, 1967. Pp. 264.

These discussions of the relationship between the human aggressive drive and moral evil represent a philosophical examination of the scientific solution of the same problem as offered by Konrad Lorenz in his Das sogenannte Böse-- Zur Naturgeschichte der Aggression. (Transl.: On Aggression. Harcourt, Brace and World, Inc.) The authors, the former being an instructor, the latter the director of the Catholic Academy, i. e., the Institute of Adult Education, of the diocese of Essen, W. Germany, consider Lorenz's thesis worthy of a serious, critical confrontation. On the one hand, Konrad Lorenz, who is one of the founders of modern ethology, is widely recognized as an outstanding authority on animal, especially instinctual behavior. The high esteem enjoyed by scientists in our modern society as well as the urgency of the problem of human aggression in an age of East-West ideological and political conflict and of atomic weapons armament favor the spread and acceptance of scientific statements on the nature, origin, and control of aggressive urges. In fact, Lorenz's book became a bestseller with twenty editions in less than three years in German-speaking countries. On the other hand, it seems rather questionable to expect final revelations on specifically human attitudes from " a natural history of aggression," i. e., a scientist's conception of the evolutionary development of aggressive behavior patterns in the animal kingdom. Drs. Czapiewski and Scherer are of the opinion and intend to establish that Lorenz's attempt to reduce the evil in man to an aggressive instinct and its manifestation does not even touch the problem of moral evil but truly deals only with a " so-called evil"; consequently, his hope for the evolution of a defense-mechanism against human aggression can

rightly be considered only as an illusion. In the first part of their book entitled Das Böse als Aggression? Dr. Czapiewski presents and evaluates the main ideas of Das sogenannte Böse; in the second part, Das Nichts und das Böse, Dr. Scherer offers his phenomenological and metaphysical views of the nature and etiology of moral evil.

Following Lorenz's explanations, Dr. Czapiewski first determines the nature and meaning of aggression, more exactly, of intra-specific aggression, i. e., of the fight between animals of the same species; for this intra-specific aggression alone is of interest to Lorenz in his attempt to diagnose and to cure aggressive behavior among human individuals and societies. Aggression is found to be an instinct. As such it is " a part of the system-and life-preserving organization of all (living) beings " (13); never is its aim the destruction of a member of the species. It is, then, spontaneous, not merely the result of and the response to an external stimulus. In the absence of a connatural stimulus, aggressive behavior will be automatically elicited and directed toward an Ersatz-object. The danger for the species which, in the case of aggression, is involved in this spontaneity of the instinct is eliminated in the course of evolution inasmuch as the movements of the intra-specific animal fight become " ritualized" and thus mostly harmless or, at least, only gradually dangerous, and inasmuch as damaging attacks are subject to physiological inhibition.

This type of ritualization of originally aggressive behavior is most evident in that kind of animal society which, according to Lorenz, is characterized by the most severe intra-specific aggression and, at the same time, by a " personal bond " or " the bond of friendship and love." (24) While in more primitive, phylogenetically earlier forms of animal social life, for instance, in " the anonymous flock" or in " the society without love," animals are united only locally or merely temporarily during the mating season in a way that not the individual but merely its role is important, two or more individuals of a species are bound together in personal love in this highest and most perfect of possible social ties. And this bond of friendship and love is manifesting itself in ritualized, redirected aggressive activity as, for instance, in the " triumph-ceremony" of geese. Stimulated by the female, the gander starts to attack it; inhibiting sign stimuli proceeding from the female redirect the aggression to another object or enforce a mere vacuum activity. After the abreaction of the accumulated aggression, the gander returns to his friends with loud greetings and, together with them, performs the triumph ceremony. The more intensive this joint enthusiastic behavior, the more unshakable will be the bond of personal love uniting the animals. Friendship and love have their origin in intra-specific aggression, and their intensity is correlative with its degree. " There is intra-specific aggression without its antidote, love; but there is no love without aggression." (26)

Human existence is no less subject to instinctual determination than animal life. It is " foolish spiritual pride" to insist upon an essential

difference between beast and man, or to consider man as " the center of the universe" or " as not pertaining to nature." Demanding humility, Lorenz is fighting the " prejudices " concerning our relationship with the animal kingdom and preaching self-recognition which is to result in the insight " that we are of one genus with the animals," " that we are driven by the same instincts as our pre-human ancestors " and " that our deeds and omissions are subject to the laws of natural causality." (32-34)

Human aggression is the expression of an instinct which is more dangerous than any related animal instinctual endowment, since an intra-specific selection enforced the extreme cultivation of hostile virtues, after the development of intelligence during the early Stone Age allowed the human species to become master of its environment through armament, clothing, and social organization. This over-developed aggression is dangerous, disastrous " evil"; the future of mankind, which increases explosively and produces ever more dangerous weapons, cannot be considered " more optimistically than that of some hostile groups of rats living on a boat almost empty of any food." (38) In fact, the social relations of rats represent " a model for visualizing the dangers threatening ourselves. As far as their attitudes towards members of their own community are concerned, . . . these animals are truly prototypes of all social virtues. However, they turn into genuine brutes, as soon as they have to do with members of another group." (30 f.)

Yet the situation is not hopeless. " Deepening of our insight into the causal chain behind our behavior" and " responsible morals," i. e., a compensation-mechanism automatically adjusting our instinctual endowment with the demands of civilization, may serve to guarantee our survival. Until " the great constructors of the transformation of the species," i. e., mutation and natural selection, (47) finally succeed in developing this compensation-mechanism, we are advised to abreact aggression by turning it to substitute objects. Competition in sports and international dangerous rivalry, for instance, in space flights, are said to be especially helpful, since they also lead to personal acquaintance and thus to the inhibition of aggression. Dr. Czapiewski concludes his report by declaring this profession of hope in the constructors of evolution which, according to Lorenz, are completely blind for the future and achieve their transformations only after millions of years as " a flight into the future conditioned by a failure to face the problems of the presence." (47)

The failure of a realistic confrontation of the problem in question is, as Dr. Czapiewski's critique of Lorenz's reveals, the result of a disregard of the essential difference between animal and man and consequently between instinctual and moral behavior. Lorenz, whose brilliant descriptions of his scientific findings concerning animal life are recognized (27), is accused of anthropomorphism in his interpretation of animal behavior and of theromorphism in his understanding of human existence. A falsification of both animal and human life is the result. Essential characteristics of man,

especially the freedom and responsibility of his mature behavior, are not considered. Moral evil which is identified with an instinctual activity is thus not recognized in its genuine nature and importance, and man as an instinctually determined being is absolved from every responsibility for the so-called evil. The basis of Lorenz's misunderstanding of human existence is finally seen in his theory of knowledge which implicitly declares natural science as the only source of truth and denies the need of a universal, philosophical discipline.

Such a philosophical discussion of moral evil is taken up by Dr. Scherer who basically presents the traditional thomistic view of the problem. As the title of his treatise indicates, however, he intends to use a modern approach, and he believes he is able to supply the allegedly required correction of the scholastic metaphysical conception of evil. Thus he justifies the need for a philosophical determination of evil not by a discussion of the nature of the incarnate spirit but by following the speculation of the so-called post-neoscholastic German philosophy of To-be and by considering " evil in the horizon of the Seinsfrage." (83) Man's essence is declared " to be determined by the understanding of To-be" (83) and even to be " the being of the anticipation of the Infinite and the Absolute." (90) " Malice is found only with a free being who posits the question of To-be and who touches in To-be the mystery called God." (97)

In a " phenomenology of evil " (102 ff.) our author, then, attempts to determine the common, basic feature in the manifold appearances of human evil. He sees it in " a turn against being," (102) " in a negation and depotentiation of being," (109) and in " a denial of the assent to To-be." (104) However, the author recognizes that his definition of evil stands in conflict with " the dominion of man over the universe" demanded by reason and revelation, and thus he declares it as applicable primarily to " the proper battlefield of evil," to the intra-human relationships. (111 f.) Further penetration into the phenomenological essence of evil, then, reveals that evil as the negation of being involves, at the same time, a turn " against everything existing, the world as a whole, even against To-be itself." (122) For " every being meets him (man) only, because he reaches out for the hidden To-be itself. It is the horizon and the most inner transcendental condition of his being-in-the-world." (122) With this turn against To-be itself, evil is also a turn against the Infinite Being, since " in every limitation there lies a reference and implication of that which cannot be subject to limits." (89) And finally, evil is a turn against one's own Ego: " in every evil there occurs a self-inflation of the Ego, which at the same time effects his self-destruction and death, because he divorced himself from To-be." (130)

In a chapter entitled The origins of evil (132 ff.) the author discusses various philosophical and religious opinions which, in the course of history, were proposed as a solution of the problem. He establishes that man's

free decision alone can rightly be made responsible for moral evil and that " the thesis concerning evil as a privation proves its clarifying force" against all differing positions. The admission of the great historical merits of the metaphysical determination of evil, however, should not blind us with regard to its shortcomings. According to our author, evil is not sufficiently defined when its phenomenologically determined negativity is understood as a mere privation. The nature of this privation, the evil of the bad will, has to be characterized. It is to be sought in " the turn against being, even the hatred of To-be itself." (174 f.)

After the justification of his philosophy of human evil Dr. Scherer concludes his section of the book with a short discussion of " the human bios and aggression." (243 ff.) He shows that the biological structures involved in human nature and accessible to scientific research are, because of their openness to higher levels of human life, different from those of an animal, and that consequently " nature and reality of man transcend the level of the biological." (246) Accordingly, " the human readiness for aggression does not represent an entity closed in itself." (248) Man is, or at least ought to be, master of his drives and of his destiny.

Obviously this philosophical discussion of evil can stand further clarification and improvement. A critical view of the assertions of the proponents of the modern philosophy of To-be will help to avoid their frequent confusions of being with the mere fact of existence, with the To-be of Heidegger's ontological difference, with this same To-be understood as a quasi-infinite real mediator between God and creature, and with the Infinite Being Himself. It will also recognize that a mere consideration of the ontological difference without the use of causal thinking cannot be truly sufficient for a philosophical defense of the existence of God. Attention to the difference between the scholastic metaphysical doctrine of evil in general and the concept of moral evil, on the one hand, and between evil as such and its concretization in a defective being on the other, could, then, probably satisfy questions concerning alleged defects of the traditional understanding of evil. At any rate, moral evil cannot simply and universally be determined as a hatred of To-be; at least, a clarification and precision of the meaning of both To-be and of hatred are required Dr. Czapiewski's exposition of Lorenz's ideas is objective and clear, and his critique is justified. However, it should be pointed out that his positive evaluation of the scientific basis of Lorenz's anthropological theories is not generally shared by students of animal behavior.

Such critical remarks are not intended to deny the value of the book. It may be recommended to everybody who is interested in a realistic appraisal of Lorenz's scientific claims concerning the nature and the future of human aggression.

Marius Schneider, O. F. M.

The Catholic University of America

Washington, D. C.

page 191

The Refutation of Determinism: An Essay in Philosophical Logic. By M. R. Ayers. New York: Barnes and Noble, 1968. Pp. 179. $6.00.

Readers who approach this volume anticipating a comprehensive discussion of the " free will" problem in terms of standard classical and contemporary formulations are bound to be initially disappointed. For example, scientific determinism, " the view that everything that happens is in principle explicable by reference to its antecedents and laws of nature," (p. 4) is quickly distinguished from metaphysical determinism," the denial of the existence of any free choice," (p. 4) and dismissed. There is no serious discussion of the possible ways in which the latter might depend on the former. Absent also are any discussions of the new twist given to determinist arguments by widespread acceptance of some form of the identity solution to the Mind-Body problem or recent defenses of libertarianism in terms of the now widely mooted view that intentional human actions cannot in principle be causally explained.

What the book does deal with, in exhausting it not exhaustive detail, are the concepts of possibility and potentiality. And a reader who has the fortitude to press on through Ayers's thickets of dense philosophical prose will come to appreciate both the author's remark in the Preface that " perhaps everyone who can think has the concept of possibility, but no one understands it" (p. vii) and his view that clarification of the concepts of possibility and potentiality is a necessary if not a sufficient condition for refuting any deterministic arguments which have genuine implications for human freedom.

The concrete argument of the book proceeds by distinguishing and clarifying three different kinds of non-logical possibility: " epistemic possibility," " natural (empirical) possibility," and " possibility for choice." Ayers's strategy is then to " try to show that the determinist characteristically confuses different kinds of possibility, and that he misunderstands even the kinds that he recognizes." (p. 11)

The author first attacks the view that the explanation of the notion of personal power (possibility for choice) is grounded in our typical inability to predict actions (epistemic possibility). His primary objection to this thesis is that the truth conditions for statements such as " It is possible for Smith to call" and " It is possible that Smith will call" are radically distinct. The first represents an " ontological " claim which depends on the facts of Smith's actual condition, while the latter embodies an " epistemic " prediction based on the evidence actually available about Smith. Neither statement entails the other, for it seems clear that the existence of Smith's capacities does not depend on what we, as a matter of contingent fact, happen to know about them.

This type of argument counts equally against attempts to explain the natural capacities (empirical possibilities) of inanimate objects in terms of

concepts pertaining to what we know about them. " To say that a thing can do something is to make no sort of conjecture that it will do it, or, for that matter, that it has done it or is doing it." (p. 40) At the same time, Ayers is anxious to reject any vestige of the idea that talk about the natural powers or capacities of objects commits one to the view that they are hidden or occult properties. His own analysis of natural possibility yields the conclusion that " in general, It is possible for x to be k means In some circumstances, x would be k." (p. 69) It follows from this analysis that supporting claims about natural possibilities is a straightforward matter of gathering relevant inductive and theoretical knowledge.

However, the foregoing definition of natural possibility should not be taken to imply the necessity of giving a purely conditional analysis of powers of natural objects. Indeed, Ayers's subsequent " refutation " of determinism turns precisely on this point. For he wants to maintain that neither natural possibility claims nor assertions of possibility for choice can be properly treated as elliptical conditional statements.

In the case of natural possibility the argument amounts to the claim that one must distinguish between intrinsic and extrinsic conditions relevant to the attribution of capacities. The difference is illustrated by the following pair of statements.

(1) This car could do 100 m.p.h., if it had eight cylinders.

(2) This car could do 100 m.p.h., if it were driven properly.

While (1) represents a genuine condition for the existence of the capacity to do 100 m.p.h., (2) expresses only a condition for the actualization of a potentiality under particular circumstances. Statement (2) expresses a pseudo-conditional, and " a pseudo-conditional ' x can do a, if x is p,' is simply an idiomatic way of asserting not that something is a sufficient condition for the existence of a power but that something is a necessary condition for the actualization of the power which exists." (p. 99) In sum, assertions of natural possibility are not always disguised genuine conditionals: ' p is possible ' does not entail ' p, only if q'.

But how does this argument bear on the crucial question of personal powers or genuine possibility for choice with respect to human agents? In this case too, Ayers argues, explanations in terms of genuine conditionals are doomed to failure. The reason is that the crucial differences noted between statements (1) and (2) above are mirrored in the following statements describing human capacities.

(3) You could hit the target, if you aimed straight at it and pulled the trigger.

(4) You could hit the target, if you wished (chose to, tried).

Only the former is a genuine conditional, according to Ayers. The latter is a pseudo-conditional, on all fours with (2). Deliberations are certainly relevant to questions about what we actually do or shall do, but not to

what we can do. " The question whether a person chooses or wishes to do an action is irrelevant to the question of whether he is able to do it . . . if all I need to do in order to get an apple is to choose to get it, then, categorically, I can get it." (p. 121)

The general character of Ayers's anti-determinist conclusion should now be apparent: " The ultimate verification of attributions of personal power, and of any proposition that some state of the agent or some set of circumstances in which he is placed is a factor determining his ability to do an action, is by reference to trials, that is, successes and failures." (p. 162) To the objection, ' If I do not now try to raise my arm, or try to count up to a hundred, how do I know that I can now do these things?' the answer is platitudinously: by induction. I have done them in circumstances not materially different from the present, and have not failed in doing them except when things were materially different." (pp. 146-47)

Thus far I have been attempting to uncover the barest outlines of the very complex set of arguments in this book. To the extent that these remarks succeed in fairly representing Ayers's fundamental thesis they also make obvious at least one type of objection which must be answered in order to secure the thesis. In this light the important question is, What is to count as a " material difference " in the circumstances of a human agent?

If differences in affective and volitional states of the agent are counted as material differences, the argument is open to an obvious determinist objection. On the other hand, if we accept Ayers's argument above that statements like (4) are pseudo-conditionals, it is clear that affective and volitional states cannot be counted as material circumstances. However, the problem posed by this alternative is that it permits a new gambit for the determinist. For, in terms of our earlier example, a determinist might grant that it is possible for Smith to call (in the sense of possessing the appropriate abilities) while denying that it is possible that Smith will call (in the sense of empirical or natural possibility), given the truth of some set of relevant laws governing human behavior.

In other words, while it is clear that " p is possible " does not entail " p, if q," it is equally clear that " p is possible " does not entail " p." The crucial question however, is whether " p is possible " (in the sense of possibility for choice) might not be compatible with " not p is necessary" (in some sense of empirical necessity), at least in those cases where " p " refers to a human action. I strongly suspect that an affirmative answer to this question can be defended, but substantiating such an answer would involve resolving a number of issues outstanding in the philosophy of mind to which Ayers does not address himself in this volume. Interestingly enough, if the case for such a position could be made out, though Ayers's argument would fail as a refutation of determinism, it could still be defended as a persuasive compatibilist solution to the " problem of free will."

In a review of this sort one cannot begin to do justice to all of the subtle and important arguments in this book. However, I have sought to show that, whether or not Ayers has succeeded in refuting determinism, his arguments deserve the careful attention of all serious students of the " free will " problem.

Vaughn R. McKim

University of Notre Dame

Notre Dame, Indiana

The Savage Mind. By Claude Lévi-Strauss. University of Chicago Press: Chicago, 1966. Pp. 269 with bibliography and index. $5.95.

" Magical thought is not to be regarded as a beginning, a rudiment, a sketch, a part of a whole which has not yet materialized. It forms a well-articulated system, and is in this respect independent of that other system which constitutes science. . . . It is therefore better, instead of contrasting magic and science, to compare them as two parallel modes of acquiring knowledge. . . . Both science and magic however require the same sort of mental operations and they differ not so much in kind as in the different types of phenomena to which they are applied." (p. 13) " The savage mind is logical in the same sense and the same fashion as ours, though as our own is only when it is applied to knowledge of a universe in which it recognizes physical and semantic properties simultaneously." (p. 268)

These quotations summarize the major thesis in Claude Levi-Strauss's most recent book, a thesis proposed and defended in an earlier publication, Totemism, and here further developed and applied. In essence the thesis contains two propositions, namely, that the characteristics of primitive thinking can be analyzed and defined, and that they are basically similar to the characteristics of the modern scientific mind. The book itself is mainly concerned with the first proposition; it is, in fact, an anthropologist's book devoted almost entirely to the explanation of anthropological data. The second, and more philosophical proposition, is asserted and occasionally deftly supported, but it is not argued systematically.

The characteristics of the savage mind which the author reports and discusses are in the orders of intensity, extension, motivation, acceptance of determinism and logical structure. He finds that primitive people are capable of and typically exhibit exhaustively detailed observation of their environment in both its immediately useful and apparently useless details; they apply themselves intellectually to intense cogitations to classify, order and relate their knowledge in comprehensive systems. They are motivated not merely by immediate needs but by a properly intellectual curiosity and

urge towards finding order and balance in their world. They operate within a framework of strict determinism which demands causal explanations of events. Because of their urge to classify and order, and their deterministic bent of mind, and their curiosity about things not immediately useful, they succeed in making discoveries, and indeed some of the greatest discoveries of the human race date from neolithic times--agriculture, domestication of animals, weaving, pottery, etc.

The logic of the primitive mind is basically a logic of binary oppositions or successive dichotomies (essentially similar to modern taxonomic procedures in botany and zoology), applied to the areas of nature, religion, social institutions and customs, abstractions, etc. These several levels or areas are interconnected by analogies and correlations, so that all thinking and acting is eventually subsumed in a single, all-embracing structure. The modes of association are arbitrary but not incoherent, the system is heterogeneous in content but rigorous in form.

For Lévi-Strauss, these are also the essential characteristics of the modern scientific mind, i. e., intense observation of the empirical givens, open-ended curiosity, classification and ordering, acceptance of the rule of determinism. The only difference is that the savage mind applies itself to reality at the perceptual-imaginative level and the scientific mind addresses itself to more abstract levels.

By way of critique of the thesis, there seems to be no reason to object to the proposition that many aspects of mind, especially the most fundamental aspects, are found in savage as well as civilized people. But there seems to be a number of possible objections to the position that these minds do not differ qualitatively. There seems to be good reasons for arguing that the scientific mind operates in ways that the savage mind is incapable of, and that therefore it differs in kind and not only in the materials to which it is applied--not a difference in kind that makes the savage another species of human but a difference in kind like the difference between the child who is sexually undeveloped and therefore incapable of sexual relations and the mature, sexually potent adult.

The cue to the point which Lévi-Strauss disregards (or seems to ignore) is contained in what he calls the Neolithic Paradox. " But the fact that modern science dates back only a few centuries raises a problem which ethnologists have not sufficiently pondered. The Neolithic Paradox would be a suitable name for it." (p. 13) " Neolithic, or early historical, man was therefore the heir of a long scientific tradition. However, had he, as well as all his predecessors, been inspired by exactly the same spirit as that of our own time, it would be impossible to understand how he could have come to a halt and how several thousand years of stagnation have intervened between the Neolithic revolution and modern science like a level plain between ascents. There is only one solution to the paradox, namely, that there are two distinct modes of scientific thought." (p. 15) This

statement appears startling on the face of it; somehow Lévi-Strauss evaluates the developments in historical times of mathematics, architecture, political systems, theology, all the branches of philosophy, etc., the contributions, in short, of the ancient Greeks and Romans, the Arabs and Medievals, as " stagnation." Apparently, for him, the human mind reached the limits of its powers as applied to the concrete, phenomenal level of reality around the end of the Neolithic period and then hesitated, baffled until modern times when it found a new level of reality to which it could apply these same powers.

An alternative theory, and one with more support in history and psychology, is that the human mind emerged from the mythologizing, magical state by the discovery of mathematics, i. e., the abstract, and universal realities with necessary, lawful relations underlying the concrete, phenomenal level of nature, and by dint of this insight proceeded into the speculative or philosophical period, in which the search for the universal and necessary reality was the key motivation. Developmental psychologists (see especially Piaget) mark off stages in mental growth which indicate a parallel between the historical development of ideas and the psychological development of the individual's capacity to think. Piaget describes and analyzes in detail the concrete operational phase of mental development (5 years to 11 years) during which the child masters notions of order and relationship and applies them in complex systematizations to the areas of quantity, time, space, movement, etc. He contrasts this period with the later period (adolescence) of formal operations when the youth perceives necessity and contingency, possibility and impossibility, and begins a new phase of exuberant questioning and speculation inspired by these insights.

The modern scientific mind seems to have grown out of the philosophizing mind, as a further stage of development, just as the mature or adult mind grows out of the adolescent mind, and for similar reasons. The limits to what could be done by pure speculation were revealed in history by the irreconcilable conflicts of philosophical systems, on the one hand, and, on the other, the gradually growing realization of the importance of discoveries rising out of and validated by intensive concentration on the empirical. In a somewhat similar way the adult engaged in practical affairs gradually gives priority to facts and evidence over his youthful speculations.

But the scientific mind and the adult mind are not simply reversions to primitive or childhood thought. The intervention of the speculative period has changed them qualitatively.

The scientific mind is concerned not merely with fitting events into logical structures but in discovering within events the existing structures they suggest and reveal. The scientist is not concerned with a subjectively satisfying systematization of nature, society, religion and thought but with a systematization which can to the greatest possible extent be validated

publicly and objectively. And finally, the scientific mind is explicitly open to the possibility that its formulations can be superseded by better ones, that, in fact, the radical questioning of the axioms of any system of thought is part of the scientific frame of mind--a procedure to which the primitive mind is closed.

Michael Stock, O. P.

St. Stephen's College

Dover, Mass.

Faith and Violence: Christian Teaching and Practice. By Thomas Merton. Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 1968. Pp. 291. $1.95.

If outstanding theologians find it difficult to explain the morality of man's sexuality in the light of the Gospel and the Church's magisterium, there also exists great mental work to be done to demonstrate and expose the morality of violence. In fact, it appears that those theologians who wish to jettison the traditional teaching of the Church banning contraceptive acts are, for the most part, quite glib either in allowing the use of revolution as a legitimate means for underdeveloped countries to achieve social justice or in supporting the extreme position which proclaims that all war is immoral in the twentieth century. But, to explain the morality of violence in the light of the Gospel and of natural law principles, one must resort to a rigorous examination of the term violence and then see its highly analogous role in the spectrum of moral truth. Unfortunately the late and lamented Thomas Merton has not done this task.

From a phenomenological point of view one discovers many violent acts which many societies accept as morally good, e. g., a mother slapping her children when they have done something wrong, boxing, football, medical operations, strikes, the waging of just wars, capital punishment, some types of revolutions, sanctions built into law, mortification of the senses, of the emotions, of the intellect and will. However, these same acts can become immoral under certain conditions; some physically violent acts are always wrong, such as: rape, kidnapping, stealing, murder, and forms of brutality used by persons in authority. Even some contraceptive acts are a kind of physically violent acts which at the same time happen to be immoral.

Violence, then, is a physical evil inflicted upon a person forcing him to act according to another's will and not his own will. Sometimes this may be morally good or evil. But to explain why, the theologian of our time must plunge into the depths of the psychology of man, the nature of society and government, and grace. In discussing the meaning and scope of

human violence in his latest book, which is a collection of very personal essays, Father Merton does not directly intend to offer a technical treatment of the metaphysical structure of violence. Yet as one reaches the end the book, one cannot but feel that his ideas on violence have failed to harmonize among themselves. We are never quite sure whether the Christian can be for violence or against it.

Praising the non-violent resister Merton says: ". . . he is fighting for the truth, common to him and to the adversary, the right which is objective and universal. He is fighting for everybody." (p. 15) Yet is it not possible, in principle at least, that the rational use of physical violence also could include the same rationale and even must include it, if the use of violence is to be just?

Speaking about those who cannot have deep interpersonal relationships he writes: " The idea of building peace on a foundation of war and coercion is not incongruous, but it seems perfectly reasonable." (p. 28) Yet can one simply say that coercion and authentic love of society by the ruling body is a necessary contradiction? If so, then the moral legitimacy of sanction built into the structure of law is totally unjustified. It would seem, on the contrary, that some coercion and at least the threat of war to potential invaders would be necessary for imperfect peace within a society.

Merton asserts: "Each one of us has to unlearn an ingrained tendency to violence and to destructive thinking. Each of us has to rid himself of a systematic moral myopia which excuses acts of barbarism when justified by appeals to patriotism and so on. But every time we renounce reason and patience in order to solve a conflict of violence we are side-stepping this great obligation and putting it off." (p. 41) Yet, is there not something good in this tendency to violence and destructive thinking (the irascible appetite of man, no less) ? Just as one can call the sexual power evil because man easily goes to excess when expressing it, so also one easily calls man's aggressiveness wrong simply because man tends to excessive expression when his life is being threatened.

About war Merton says: " Actually, of course, political system at present seriously contemplates abolishing war. All still assume that the only way to peace is to abolish the enemy or reduce him to helplessness." (p. 42) Yet, is it true that all States always assume that only war is the only way of peace? On the contrary, it would seem that some States use war to solve their problems as the last means when the conference table has not yielded results and all other possibilities have been exhausted. Moreover, it would seem simplistic to hold that all warfare is based simply on the abolition of the enemy, given the witness and testimony of many soldiers of past and present wars.

Merton comments concerning black power, war, and the white power structure of the United States: ". . . but in the long run the evil root

that has to be dealt with is the root of violence, hatred, poison, cruelty, and greed which is part of the system itself. The job of the white Christian is then partly a job of diagnosis and criticism, a prophetic task of finding and identifying the injustice which keeps war going in order that some might make out of it." (p. 129) Yet, does not the good root which is likewise part of the " system " also have to be " dealt with "? And may it not be that due to original sin both sides in a legitimately declared war could be right and just, subjectively speaking? While not denying that there is truth to Merton's assertion, yet there is a rather distinct possibility that these faults of human beings are accidental by-products of the system rather than intrinsically bound up with it. How could one conceivably prove that the Vietnam war is totally the product of greed, unless he, like God, knew personally the intention of the guiding authority of the power structure?

Earlier in the book Merton speaks about the power structure: " For power can guarantee the interests of some men but it can never foster the good of all men. Power always protects the good of some at the expense of all the others. Only love can attain and preserve the good of all. Any claim to build the security of all on force is a manifest imposture." (p. 23) However, does authentic love exclude the use of some force to attain and preserve the good of the nation? And is it not the case that there are some in society who refuse to give their share to the common good but rather violate it and have very little consideration for the rights of the others? And do not these persons have to be violently forced to cease their activity lest the whole society suffer from their activities?

Reflecting upon non-violence Merton says: " The political failure of liberal non-violence has brought out the stark reality that our society itself is radically violent and that violence is built into its very structure." (p. 144) But, is it not true of all imperfect societies that some injustices inevitably arise, thus giving rise to violence? Why such shock at imperfection as old as man himself?

Reflecting on the war in Vietnam he writes: " In Vietnam the U. S. has officially adopted the policy that the best way to get across an idea is by fire and dynamite." (p. 166) But has it? Is it not certainly a very imperfect human way (not the absolutely most human way) of changing a state of belligerency into a relative, imperfect peace between hostile nations?

Speaking about the nation's attitude to the negro Merton comments: " There is however such a thing as collective responsibility and collective guilt. . . . Few of us have actively and consciously chosen to oppress and mistreat the Negro. But nevertheless we have all more or less acquiesced in and consented to a state of affairs in which the Negro is treated unjustly and in which his unjust treatment is directly or indirectly to the advantage of the people with whom we are in fact identified." (p. 180)

But, if one can make a clear judgment about the collective guilt of a people, then would it not equally follow that populations could be bombed if their military command felt in some way the need of creating or adding to an unjust war?

Finally, Merton directs his attention to decisions made by local churches and the people of said nations in the past deciding whether to cooperate in a war or not: ". . . Theirs not to reason why. The government knows best. They did not have to inquire too minutely into the cause of war or into the ways by which it was being waged. Suffice it that the bishops by their approval implied that the war and everything about it was just and the bishops in their turn, as good patriots, left all these technicalities to the ministry of war." (p. 195) But, does not an ordinary person untrained in the subtleties of ethical theory rightfully presume that the authorities should have any benefit of the doubt as to the moral uprightness of a war? In such a morass of factors, some of which are totally unknown in order to make a " decision of conscience," how can a philosophically trained individual come to a " certain " conclusion that a war is just or not, if some of the circumstances are totally unknowable unless he is in authority? And does it follow that, if a war is accepted as basically just, all actions necessarily connected with it are judged to be morally good and upright? And does silence on the part of bishops necessarily entail approval for some actions of a war?

I simply refuse to believe that the book of Merton adequately reflects traditional Christian teaching and practice about faith and violence in a perceptively clear manner. Rather, he raises much confusion by his uncritical acceptance of popular theological opinion regarding the Vietnam war, government, black power and the so-called " establishment."

Basil Cole, O. P.

Newman Center

Kentfield, California

Philosophical Perspectives on Punishment. Compiled and edited by Edward H. Madden, Rollo Handy and Marvin Farber. Charles C. Thomas: Springfield, Illinois, 1968. Pp. 150.

The problem of punishment presents one of the most baffling aspects of ethical theory, and it is assuredly one of the most intractable elements in penal practice. It can hardly be said that this book, containing as it does the proceedings of a Symposium on Punishment held at the State University of New York at Buffalo, adds greatly to the understanding of the problem or to the resolution of its dilemmas. The four major

addresses--" Philosophy and Wisdom in Punishment and Reward," by Professor C. J. Ducasse; " Immorality, Crime and Treatment," by Professor Charles A. Baylis; " Retribution Revisited," by Professor Bland Blanshard, and " The Contribution of Beccaria, Hegel, Holbach and Livingston to the General Theory of Criminal Responsibility," by Professor Mitchell Franklin--for the most part cover familiar territory, and the commentaries by a variety of philosophers, psychiatrists, social scientists and lawyers reflect very accurately the reactions that can be expected from their respective disciplines. But for the non-specialist, the collection is a convenient source for ascertaining academic opinion on such matters as the grounds of ethical judgment, the distinction between sin and crime, the ambiguities of retributive views, the bases of penal treatment and the limits of the law. It provides besides, a fascinating revelation of the relativity of contemporary moral attitudes.

The Symposium does, of course, raise some fundamental issues, and, unlike many that occupy the professional moral philosopher, they are ones that directly affect the good of the community. It is significant that retribution occupies so prominent a place in the discussion, and Professor Blanshard's paper gives a reasonably argued account of the social sanctions that, properly understood, it should embody. The social scientists and psychiatrists are, as might be expected, more than ready to substitute treatment as an alternative to punishment, and exhibit some naïveté in supposing that the causes of crime can so readily be identified with exclusively social and psychological factors. Professor Blanshard does well to remind them that, " under the influence of physical science, we are coming to regard behavior as wholly a matter of physical responses, physically conditioned; there are eminent professors of psychology who are trying to abolish even the reference to an inner life."

When all the argument is over, when teleologists and deontologists have done their best or worst, one may feel that the only adequate ground for a final vindication of punishment lies in an order that transcends the norms of observable behavior. It is in this sense that retribution can ultimately only belong to God. But in the meantime it might be suggested that the most authentic social science will be one that is consistent with an ethic that is grounded in reason and is declaratory of the true nature and destiny of man. When Hegel affirmed that to punish a man was to pay him the compliment of recognizing his humanity, he was only underlining an insight that lies beyond mere ethical theories of whatever kind. It is in this sense that the retributory element of punishment is finally to be understood. It has as such nothing to do with revenge or the infliction of needless pain. But it is a declaration that man, insofar as he is free and aware of the consequences of his acts, submits himself to the judgment of the society to which he belongs.

What is least encouraging about this Symposium is the contempt--one

can hardly call it less--that is shown for the ordinary graces of verbal communication. Jargon of the most pedantic and unnecessary kind--we hear of " capacitating an entity " and are treated to such hideous terminology as " autotelic" and " heterotelic"--does little to commend the process of philosophical enquiry. Who can be interested in a " punishee " or can want to share in a " concomitant subsumption "? And if French quotations are necessary, then décourager les mitres is surely what Professor Baylis intends on page 45. Encourager is what he says: we hope it is not what he means.

Illtud Evans, O. P.

Saint Albert's College

Oakland, California

The Nature of Philosophical Inquiry. Proceedings of the American Catholic Philosophical Association. Vol. XLI. Washington, D. C.: National Secretariate, Catholic University, 1967. Pp. 273.

This volume contains the addresses, papers and panel discussions for the forty-first annual meeting of the ACPA, March 28-29, 1967, at the Center for Continuing Education, University of Notre Dame, Notre Dame, Ind.

The lively and perceptive presidential address by Ernan McMullin raises the question of the identity and purpose of this group after forty years of organized effort. The founding fathers were fully convinced of the need for a separate group of philosophers sharing a goal and content which they considered both distinctive and worthwhile. They were agreed that they had at their disposal the essential and permanent conceptions and principles which constitute the firm foundation of all philosophy and human science. There may seem to be a gulf, more apparent than real, between such views and those presented at the current meeting. In recent years the philosophy curriculum in Catholic colleges has been undergoing rapid and profound changes, with requirements decreased and both methods and contents broadened, but we are a long way from having a clear picture of what we are trying to do for the under-graduate in philosophy. The sound parts of our tradition should be preserved, and the new methods of analytic philosophy in particular should be more fully employed. New problems such as those of process, subjectivity, and pragmatism must be faced, and cooperation with other philosophers is needed.

The papers and discussions which follow explain various methods of philosophical inquiry and treat of a wide variety of problems according to different methods. Martin C. D'Arcy, who was awarded the Cardinal Spellman-Aquinas medal, considers the immutability of God. Not content

with former explanations which distinguish between the simplicity of the divine perfection and our way of understanding it, he suggests that we have done with the word " necessity " when speaking of God and attribute all to freedom and love.

An Aristotelian view of philosophical inquiry is offered by George P. Klubertanz (St. Louis U.). There are various starting points, goals and methods of elaborating philosophy, and a set of philosophic disciplines. A philosopher should become acquainted with the major options and problems of philosophy, but he cannot pursue all paths that are open to him and so must choose among them. Philosophy is not necessarily pluralistic, but it has developed along many lines which cannot at present be totally unified.

In a comparison between analytic philosophers and metaphysicians, Richard Rorty (Princeton U.) argues that they disagree not so much in matter and method as in the notion of wisdom and how it is to be pursued. Metaphysicians hold that through experience and argument we can attain truth about the ultimately important things, whereas for analysts wisdom is the articulation of a vision based on the sciences and arts. Errol Harris (Northwestern U.) also views metaphysics as related in method and explanation to the sciences and arts but differs from these in scope. Metaphysics is an attempt to organize comprehensively the deliverances of the sciences into a single world view in which all the sciences can be integrated: metaphysics is metascience.

Inquiry is defined by Robert Johann (Loyola Seminary, Shrub Oak) as man's effort to integrate his experience as a responsible agent. It is what the agent does, the operations he performs to meet tension between environmental demands, and the agent's equipment to meet them. The goal of philosophic inquiry is pragmatic: to order and integrate the affairs of every day into something coherent and whole. Agreement among philosophers is difficult to attain because there is no completely objective test for validity of view. Human survival is the minimum requirement, but much depends upon individual bias, and there is no hypothesis with universal appeal.

A special symposium and a section on philosophy and religion deal with relations between philosophy and theology. John Macquarrie (Union Theological Seminary) says that there are probably several ways of doing both philosophy and theology and that existentialism is perhaps the type of philosophy most influential with theologians today, a point contested by the commentator (B. M. Gendreau, Xavier U.). Gerald A. McCool (Loyola Seminary) explores the possibility of a philosophy of Christian experience which would consider the data of revelation insofar as they are accessible to the intentionality of simply being in the world, as distinct from the intentionality of the act of faith.

Several papers and discussions treat of historical and doctrinal aspects

of moral value and ethics, e. g., William B. Hund (Notre Dame) on Franz Brentano, Germain Grisez (Georgetown U.) on methods of ethical inquiry, and Gerard Dalcourt (Seton Hall U.) on natural law theory. In philosophy of nature and philosophical psychology there are papers on motion as conceived in the sixteenth century (William A. Wallace, Dom. House of Studies, Washington), on the evolution of the notion of cause (George A. Blair, Villa Madonna College), and on sensation and perception, with penetrating comments by Theresa Crem (U. of San Francisco). A special symposium treats of Bernard Lonergan's theory of inquiry and its relation to American thought. Here salient questions are raised by the participants and answered by Father Lonergan. Other noteworthy papers treat of Marius Victorinus and his philosophy of the living God (Mother Mary T. Clark), of the cosmological argument (Peter Bertocci), and of Heidegger and Thomistic metaphysics (William E. Carlo, Boston College; James F. Anderson, Villanova U.).

This volume shows that the work of the founding fathers is being continued by earnest and broad-minded persons seeking ecumenical contact and understanding between the past and the present in philosophy and religion. There is something here for everyone, and much that is true and good.

William H. Kane, O. P.

Aquinas Institute of Philosophy

River Forest, Illinois

New Themes in Christian Philosophy. Edited by Ralph M. McInerny. Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 1968. Pp. 416. $9.50.

Whatever be the outcome of the recurring arguments about the exact relationships between philosophy and the Christian message, there can be no doubt that there has been and will continue to be an interaction between these two vital areas of human thought and activity. The present volume offers seventeen essays designed to " provide a wide-ranging view of today's philosophy which attempting to achieve a coherent picture of what the Church sees through these re-opened windows."

Because these articles are the papers presented at a conference held at the University of Notre Dame in September 1966, they are limited by the range of the purposes of that conference. That the scope is a wide one is clear from the variety of subjects discussed and the differences of outlook presented. No reader will fail to be satisfied by some of the articles or, by the same token, fail to find fault with others. No anthology ever totally succeeds or totally fails. On balance, however, any student of these matters will find the work a useful tool for pointing out the various contemporary trends in thought affecting both philosophical and religious issues.

There are several historical studies that are readable and illuminating, together with others whose authors seem to have forgotten the advice which warns that the ignorance of history inevitably brings in its wake the repetition of historical errors. Nowhere is the advice more needed than in philosophy and religion where dead horses are dragged out to be beaten again and again. A case in point is the whole area of man's knowledge, particularly on the intellectual level. Notwithstanding the obvious lacunae in our grasp of the total picture, there are many problems here that have been at least partially solved, but the solutions are ignored or forgotten by those who do not know their history.

A number of the articles have appended comments which evaluate, reinforce or perhaps controvert opinions expressed in the articles. These comments are often very helpful in eliminating confusion or tempering undue enthusiasm for some precious opinion. The difficulties of terminology encountered in the writings of thinkers having differing backgrounds is pointed up in several of the comments. This difficulty of terminology makes for muddy writing in which the book abounds. When the commentators who heard the paper are baffled, it is inevitable that readers will be more completely at sea.

After closing the book, two strong impressions remained with me. One was a nostalgic longing for the times when most of those attempting to do philosophy made some use of the fundamental scholastic disciplines having to do with the acts of the mind and modes of knowing, because these make language intelligible, and no contemporary or future gimmick will ever supply their lack. In spite of this, a second impression persisted that this book will be usable for anyone interested in the relations between contemporary philosophy and religion.

George C. Reilly, O. P.

Dominican House of Studies

Washington, D. C.

L'Insegnamento filosofico nei seminari dopo Il Vaticano II. Sapienza, vol. XXI, nn. 1-2, 1968.

This is an account of a congress of Italian seminary professors in Naples in December of 1967. It is published as a special January-June 1968 number of Sapienza.

I would divide the material of this volume into three classes. A first class deals with what I would call social structure questions of the seminary itself. Thus Professor Poppi describes the insufficient formation of students and professors. (pp. 219-222) Professor Pellegrino demands greater liberty

and legal guarantees of liberty of research for professors. (pp. 133-136) Programs for cooperation of students and faculty with state universities are explained by Fathers Zovatto and D'Amore. (pp. 264-273)

A second class of materials deals with philosophical development but as preconditioned by unbudging adherence to scholastic and particularly Thomistic principles. Here I would place the impressive vast synthesis of modern thought in philosophy and theology proposed by A. Boccanegra, O. P. (pp. 143-205) A third class of materials treats of new problems whose solution is not preconditioned by unbudging adherence to scholastic or Thomistic principles. And in this last class I would place the article of Fr. Gaboriau, O. P., on teaching philosophy (pp. 231-246) and the article by Professor I. Mancini on philosophy of religion, (pp. 94-111)

Fr. Gaboriau, O. P., describes the efforts towards philosophical renewal at the Mission de France seminary published as Nouvelle Initiation [Philosophique]. Its main characteristics are that basic data are taken from a phenomenological search of common speech. From these are elicited the categories and principally that of substance. Substance then becomes the central theme of the rest of the course, and particularly man as substance. Substance and man as substance lead eventually to knowledge of God as Creator. The historical trend from polytheism to monotheism to atheism introduces the problem of God.

Father Gaboriau reports that the course evokes great interest from the students. The teaching method used is that of seminar and discussion groups with appropriate readings along with texts from the Nouvelle Initiation Philosophique.

In my opinion, basing the philosophy course on finding the categories is an important step in the right direction. In Gaboriau's brief account of the process, it is not possible to judge how critical is the procedure that he adopts. But being forced to judge from the data of his article without seeing the text of Nouvelle Initiation Philosophique, I feel that the problem is too easily settled. Eliciting the categories from contemporary speech was quite licit for Aristotle. But we live in an age where the natural and social sciences and contemporary philosophy present a total understanding of the world without making use of the act-potency categories of substance-accident. In an important sense, these disciplines supply contemporary man with his basic language more significantly than does the grammatical structure of daily speech. It seems important then that the clerical student be able to think in this basic language of contemporary man. St. Thomas, Scotus, and Hegel all leave place for a phenomenological understanding of reality prior to the act-potency categories of substance-accident: for they make being the primum, cognitum: and they present non-being, one-many, whole-part correlations as notions immediately following being and prior to knowledge of the categories. This permits the philosophia perennis to be conjoined to modern science and philosophy. Fr. Boccanegra,

O. P., points up this same conclusion in his article, p. 175, note 34: " This assortment from experience requires no previous analysis of the components intrinsic to experience (act-potency, essence, finite existence, matter-form, substance, accident, etc.)."

How act-potency analysis in categories of substance, accident, and cause relates to a phenomenological account of experience again comes in question in I. Mancini's Preposte per una filosofia della religione. (pp. 94-111) Professor Mancini sees that a merely subjective account of religious experience will not do. On the contrary, in all the great historical religions (p. 100) subjective religious experience has its root in certain foundational events and words ascribed to God Himself. (p. 104) The divine initiative making possible what is impossible to man is religion. (p. 101) For example, these foundational events are the Exodus of the Jews from Egypt, Old Testament prophecy, the Hegira, the Illumination of Budda. (p. 98)

Prof. Mancini's main problem concerns the role philosophy of religion should play respecting these foundational events. Philosophy of religion must accept its religious facts as autonomously posited in history. (p. 98) And it must not reduce these facts to philosophy itself because this would destroy religious facts. (p. 102) Therefore, the stance of philosophy of religion towards religious facts is primarily characterized by a hermeneutical attitude: it seeks merely to interpret religious facts. (p. 103) But this philosophical interpretation does not judge the actual existence of foundational facts themselves but only their possibility, their non-contradictoriness. (p. 99) In order to reach this possibility, it is necessary to have a metaphysics, a creator God--which manifests the ontological depth of creatures. (p. 104) But it is also necessary to show that it is possible according to the general laws of reason and the historical situation of man. (p. 106-107) However, it is impossible for philosophy of religion to go beyond the possibility of such foundational facts so as to judge whether they actually happened, since such judgment is irreducibly subjective. (p. 108) For if the actual religious facts were considered philosophically verifiable facts, it would mean that these facts implied that their contrary (their non-occurrence) were contradictory. (p. 108)

In the discussion that followed his paper, Prof. Pellegrino refused to extend to non-Judaeo-Christian religions the possibility of the foundational facts--events and words of God. For Prof. Pellegrino, these other religions were based only on natural knowledge of the creation of the world by God. Prof. Pellegrino alleged, moreover, that Prof. Mancini was doing a theology rather than a philosophy by the very fact that he was studying the events and works of God in history. In defense against this latter charge, Prof. Mancini pointed to the recent article of the French Catholic theologian P. J. Mansir accepting H. Doumery's project of writing a philosophy of Christian experience, (p. 111) (Revue des Sciences Philosophiques et Théologiques, LI, 2, pp. 149-186, esp. p. 182).

Now this writer sees Prof. Mancini introducing metaphysics unnecessarily into discussion of these foundational facts. I am reminded of Garrigou-Lagrange 's De Revelatione; it gives an excellent metaphysical account of the possibility of miracles for people interested in metaphysics. But its analysis of actual facts is puny and amateurish. Garrigou-Lagrange can be excused on the grounds that phenomenology was not an accepted discipline among Catholics at that time. But that is no longer the case. What prevents us from having a phenomenological description of a number of the miracles of Lourdes? Or miracles studied at the Congregation of Rites? What prevents us from having a phenomenological account of some well-known cases of prophecy, biblical or extra-biblical, whether among Christians or Jews or pagans. Such a phenomenological account could dispense with all act-potency categories of substance-accident and cause. It would suffice to give a critical phenomenological account of these events as basic religious experiences.

Such events and words of God are indeed the foundational religious experiences in all religions. To these events and divine words such as miracles and prophecies subjective religious experience in prayer bears a constant reference. For men pray for interventions in their own lives similar to those the community records as having already occurred. Now St. Augustine had no qualms about attributing prophecy to pagans, e. g., the Cumean Sibyl (City of God, book X, chapter XXVII); and St. Thomas admitted that God could work a miracle to prove the virginity of a Roman vestal virgin (De Potentia, q. 6, art. 5, ad 5um); and St. Paul in Titus (1:12) did not hesitate to call prophet a pagan Cretan poet. Cf. also DTC, Saintété de L'Eglise, Vol. 14, col. 856-869). Hence the philosopher who is Catholic need have no qualms about readiness to accept prophecies and miracles in pagan religions. And philosophy of religion should recognize that religious experience in prayer within all religions is nourished by community memories of just such occurrences. Thus prophecies and miracles are foundational not only respecting the historic tradition of a given religion but also as nourishing the individual's prayer life. Thus in Acts 14:16, St. Paul sees joy in the heart resulting from good rains and crops as the evidence of God for all nations. But these events are historical events proposed as evidence of God's presence, and they are events similar to the evidence granted to Israel. Spared the metaphysical hurdles concerning the possibility of miracles, this real meat of philosophy of religion would no doubt draw many readers.

Finally, I subscribe to Messrs. Mancini and Mansir in saying that philosophy can study such miracles under its own formal light, whether they be biblical or extra-biblical, Judaeo-Christian or pagan. The difference of formal light safeguards the difference between philosophy and theology from the theologian's standpoint; and as for the philosopher, he wishes to study facts wherever he can find them.

The appeal to radically empirical minds of a critical account of miracles is a well-attested fact. David Hume, the patriarch of modern empiricists, gives a sympathetic account of critically examined evidence for the miracles at the tomb of Abbé Paris. Hume himself knew persons involved in the investigation (Hume, Philosophical Works [London, 1882], Vol. IV, pp. 101-103, especially note 1). Gabriel Marcel says that his whole philosophical life has centered around extra-ordinary phenomena connected with the after-life. (Marcel, Searchings [Westminster, 1963], pp. 100 and following). It is well-known how the life work of Alexis Carrell turned around being eyewitness to a Lourdes cure of a dying tubercular patient of his.

The consequent for a philosopher of religion is clear. He should use his philosophy to free his phenomenological description from every philosophical category (act-potency analysis into substance-accident and cause). Thus set free by philosophy itself from philosophical structuring of experience, he can give a direct presuppositionless experiential account of foundational religious experience.

Ralph Powell, O. P.

Aquinas Institute of Philosophy

River Forest, Illinois

Der Begriff " Fleisch" in den paulinischen Hauptbriefen. By Alexander Sand. (Biblische Untersuchungen 2). Regensburg: Pustet, 1967. Pp. 345. Paper DM 45.

The work under review is a doctoral dissertation from the University of Munich. Anyone in the least familiar with Pauline studies will realize the emphasis given anthropology and the importance of such a detailed consideration of the key idea of " flesh " for the thought of Paul. Sand has divided his dissertation into four major sections. The first surveys the history of the problem. The second involves a detailed analysis of the notion of flesh in the major Pauline epistles. The third considers the meaning of flesh in the Old Testament and Judaism. The final section deals with a summary of the above and the conclusion.

The first section is an especially valuable one, grouping as it does the various contributions made under three major schools of interpretation. The author concludes the survey by pointing up the various questions which consistently recur in the above survey of the problem: Is Paul's preaching in the context of the Jewish Christian Gospel or does it represent a synthesis of Jewish and Gentile Christianity? When Paul treats of man under the aspect of flesh, where does he get this basic idea? Does Paul understand a certain dualism when he uses the term? What of its relation to his understanding of sin? These and other questions serve as the background of the analysis, which follows.

From the detailed exegesis and interpretation of Paul's use of flesh the author is lead to the conclusion that he does not put forward a " systematic anthropology, nor does he offer a psychology of man as such, of his constituent parts, his nature, his functions." (p. 216) Rather the author concludes that Paul treats of man in various ways, and even when using the central idea of flesh he does not restrict himself to a single meaning. He does, however, always treat of the whole man and in the context of a redemptive-history theology.

The third section provides the background against which the author determines Paul's debt to the thought of the Old Testament and Judaism for his use of flesh, as well as the area in which his meaning diverges. In regard to the latter--flesh as a term for man in slavery to sin and at enmity with God--he insists upon the importance of Paul's Christology and teaching on the Spirit for a proper interpretation of meaning.

In summary, the dissertation is an impressive and imposing piece of work on an important topic. However, certain reservations might be entertained about methodology. The method used by the author is basically the so-called Begriffsforschung--the investigation of the theology contained in a word or group of words. Since James Barr's resounding criticism of this method in Semantics of Biblical Language, one wonders whether the on-going discussion might not relegate such an approach as the author's to a school of the recent past.

Justin Cunningham, O. P.

Dominican House of Studies

Washington, D. C.

Jesus and Ethics. By Richard H. Hiers. Philadelphia: The Westminster Press, 1968. Pp. 208. $6.50.

This book studies the thought of four scholars, Harnack, Schweitzer, Bultmann and Dodd on the relation between the eschatology and ethics of Jesus. By eschatology Hiers means mostly the specific teaching of Jesus that the kingdom of God would be coming visibly, dramatically, and very soon, at which time human history would end. Harnack argues that, although the teaching is in the New Testament, Jesus never took it very seriously and certainly did not make it part of the essence of his doctrine. Schweitzer asserts that Jesus took the teaching very seriously and called for an " interim " ethics until the time would come. Bultmann agrees with Schweitzer that Jesus took the teaching seriously, taught it, and was mistaken ab