St Paul said that Christ was ‘delivered up for our sins and raised again for our justification’ (Rom. 4.25); and the whole point and purpose of Fr Durrwell’s book is to bring out as clearly as possible, in the full context of New Testament teaching, the meaning of the second half of that sentence: to show how we are saved by the Resurrection. It was a bold thing to attempt on such a scale. The Resurrection of our Lord is the central fact of the New Testament, both as historical narrative and as a doctrinal message, and to explore its mysterious meaning is a task calling for the finest theological intelligence as well as a consummate skill in the interpretation of some extremely difficult texts. Let us say at the outset that Fr Durrwell shows himself not unequal to the task. One may differ from him in detail or remain unconvinced by this or that particular analysis, but there is no denying that his work as a whole is a masterpiece; a deeply pondered, beautifully constructed doctrinal synthesis, full of the light and sweetness of a noble intelligence entirely dedicated to the noblest of subject matters. It is a strikingly original book and its main thesis certainly calls for further sifting and elucidation. A work of purely biblical theology, it remains, as Fr Charles Davis says in his interesting Introduction, ‘within the world of biblical ideas and expressions.’ But it cannot and will not be left there; it is far too powerful a work not to have a profound effect on speculative theology in the Church for many years to come.

Theology in its normal sense is the science of God’s word. God’s word may be considered in the abstract as the revealed truth about God, in so far as this is expressible in human language. Alternatively it may be considered in the concrete as it lives and grows in individual human minds and hearts. Until the nineteenth century litde attempt had been made to describe and reflect upon the word of God in this latter sense. It would have been dismissed as unscientific. But scientific theology in its normal sense had existed for many centuries. The technical terms used in scientific theology were not, of course, revealed to us from heaven. Part of the achievement of the Christian theologian was to invent technical symbols to express what had been given to the Church untechnically in the inspired literature of the Scriptures and in the living tradition of the Church. Man’s capacity for scientific thought is one of his greatest gifts, and it was inevitable that he should apply it to the study of the greatest of all subjects, the revealed word of God. Christian man’s first attempts at theology came in the very beginnings of the patristic age. The need for clear-cut terms and arguments as a safeguard against heresy led to a great increase of theology during the golden age of patristics, the fourth and fifth centuries. But, contrasted with later theology, all this early period was a period of the literary expression of Christian life and tradition rather than of its systematic exposition and defence.

Last December a conference of the War Resister’s International was held at Gandhigram in South India, which I was invited to attend. I was only able to go on the last day, but I felt that the meeting was significant both for its timing and for its setting and for the conclusions to which it came. I was glad to find that there were two or three other Catholics present, including a priest sent by his bishop from Belgium. Catholics are not generally supposed to be favourable towards pacifism, but it is obvious that the threat of nuclear war calls for a radical change in our attitude to war, and it seems inevitable that there will be an increasing number who will feel obliged to take up a pacifist position in regard at least to nuclear war. The timing of this meeting was significant because the W.R.I. is an international organization without any religious basis, yet clearly it was felt that the birth of Christ was something which is relevant to the issue which faces all men to-day, and I must say that I was impressed by the spiritual attitude which was shown by the majority of the delegates. The setting also was significant because clearly it was felt that the country of Mahatma Gandhi was the country in the world which could best be expected to offer some guidance on the supreme problem which faces our generation.

From time to time, we read in the Press of attempts by trade unions to enforce a so-called closed shop. More often than not, it is really a union shop that is being sought, whereby all workers in an establishment are required to join the appropriate trade union: a closed shop implies that only workers who already belong to the union can be considered for engagement in the first place. The subject is one which arouses strong feelings on both sides. On the one side, it is regarded as a natural right of the trade unions, and, on the other, as a gross interference with the liberties of the individual citizen. The argument is not confined to Britain. It has long been a subject of debate in the United States, where the closed shop is illegal under the Taft-Hartley Act, but the union shop is permitted by Federal law, though it may be banned by State law. On several occasions, attempts have been made to introduce ‘right to work’ laws which would ban the union shop in the State concerned. For the most part, Catholics have been prominent in their opposition to these moves to ban the union shop, and have shown greater unity on this issue than have English Catholics. The subject is clearly an important one, and calls for careful and dispassionate study in the light of moral principles and the realities of the world in which we are living.

The Second Council of the Vatican continues to exercise religious opinion in Germany and Austria. The Herder-Korrespondenz, vol. 15, No. 2, Nov. 1960, pp. 80-83 gives a survey under the title Vorschau auf das ökumenische Konzil. People expect great things of it, but there is a note of anxiety lest it be too timid and miss some of its opportunities.

The dominant event of 1960 in Germany was the Eucharistic World Congress in Munich. A very full report is contained in the Herder-Korrespondenz, vol. 15, No. 1, Oct. 1960, pp. 7-34. Details are given of its programme, meaning, the sermons preached, its liturgical shape, and details of the help given by the Evangelical Christians in particular with accommodation. It was noted that the Archbishop of Paderbom stayed with the Evangelical bishop of Bavaria, and that several Spanish priests stayed with pastors’ families. No. 2, Nov. 60, reports on pp. 91-94 Evangelical reactions to the Congress. These were in many cases appreciative, but doubts were expressed about the spiritual value of mass events, requiring enormous organization.

During the Congress, a Una Sancta Feier was held in Munich, i.e. a meeting between Catholic and Evangelical theologians. The leading address was given by Otto Karrer, the well-known advocate of Christian unity. He explained certain doctrines concerning the Eucharist to which Protestants object particularly strongly and showed that Luther and Calvin were perhaps closer to the Catholic position than is generally realized.

Of articles concerning the Orthodox Church, we may mention a note in the Herder-Korrespondenz, vol. 15, No. 3, Dec. 1960 on pp. 115-117 on the possible reasons for postponement by one year of the proposed pan-orthodox conference in Rhodes.

The Complete Scientist (Oxford University Press; 18s.; paper 12s. 6d.) contains the report of a group of educationists, under the chairmanship of the Rector of Imperial College, to the British Association. Its purpose is to suggest means of overcoming the acknowledged narrowness of general culture of the professional scientists and technologists now being turned out by our universities. Though based on a comparatively small survey of selected schools and universities, the conclusions reached compel attention by their reasonableness, and the firmness with which they are pressed; they ought to be carefully considered by everyone with a concern for higher education in this country.

In broad outline, the conclusions are conservative: there is to be no radical change in the type of education we provide, but the main weaknesses have got to be cured. With one exception, members of the Group wished to maintain the educational system in which specialization begins with the sixth form at school and continues through a three-year university course: the continental and Scottish systems are not recommended. The basic change must be at the school level, though it will reflect itself higher up. In the sixth form, the specialist in science ought to spend twice as much time on non-scientific pursuits as he now does: some twelve periods a week instead of the present average of six, with, of course, consequent reduction in die time given to science. Below the sixth, the present time-table is regarded as satisfactory.

There is little doubt that the most ok cinematic name in England to-day is that of Michelangelo Antonioni; critics back from Cannes brought reports of I’Avventura as voluminous as they were contradictory, and when last autumn it finally came to London—briefly at the South Bank Festival and then for an extended commercial run—the wave of interest and praise gathered momentum. In January and February of this year the National Film Theatre, sensibly cashing in on a vogue which it had done much to initiate, has been running an Antonioni season, and at the time of writing we have been able to see all his work except La Notte, the latest, which may not be available in time for this series.

It is, however, quite possible to come to some general conclusions about the work of this enigmatic director from the films shown already and, judging from I’Avventura, it seems unlikely in any case that the new picture is going to be radically different from the rest. Antonioni would never, I think, be a director with whom I would feel instinctively at home; his world is not mine, nor his obsessions; the people in whom he is interested are not those whose fives I should often feel drawn to study minutely. But his seeing eye, his concentration of observation, his obvious intellectual and sensuous delight in image and composition and movement compel one’s attentive admiration. In other words, though I often do not agree with what he has chosen to say, I would defend to the death his fashion of saying it.