Latin-American, Asian, black and feminist Liberation theologies have in common that theology becomes re-defined from and by the perspective and experience of the oppressed group. The hope was that through doing theology from the margins—or from the ‘underside of history—the central models (paradigms) of traditional theology would be transformed: ethics becomes Liberation Ethics, concepts of God, Christ, and Spirit are grounded in the experience of the struggle for justice, the Bible is read as a text of Liberation, and a new readiness would appear to dialogue with the ‘submerged’ faiths of oppressed peoples.

My argument here is that the paradigm shift did not go deep enough. Looking around at the worsening crises of the world—African famine, environmental disasters, structural violence and the ineluctable spirals of poverty—it seems to me that Liberation Theology has not succeeded because it has not as yet tackled the roots of oppression in language and logic itself. Tracking the roots of oppression to their theological and philosophical sources is a necessary activity of liberation. It means questioning the foundational myth on which our western civilisation is based. Even the feminist attempts to construct a new ethics have not gone far enough. For example, American psychologist and educationalist Carol Gilligan attempted to construct an ethics of care and responsibility, based on her research, as opposed to an ethics of justice and fairness, (the categories of her colleague, Lawrence Kohlberg).

Biography is enjoying one of its periodic resurgences in popularity. Literary biography seems to be particularly in vogue. But the purpose of telling the story of some great author’s life is no longer simply historical or even hagiographical. In this post-structuralist age, the intention of such a pursuit as biography has to be expository —to get behind the public face and reveal the real man or woman; to deconstruct the myth and reconstruct the person and their ‘emotional, intellectual and psychological makeup’.’ It is precisely this which Professor Martin tries to do in his most recent biography ‘Gerard Manley Hopkins: A Very Private Life’.

Hopkins, the enigmatic priest-poet of the nineteenth century, seems in one way a particularly suitable candidate for such a treatment. On the surface there seems to exist such a very great divergence between his public persona, a Jesuit priest dedicated to the discipline of the Ignatian ‘Spiritual Exercises’, and the private man, a poet of great imagination and originality. Whether this dichotomy is seen as responsible for the psychological imbalances which intermittently afflicted him, or as the dynamic which is at the centre of his creativity hardly matters. On the other hand, the facts of Hopkins’ life, both public and to a large extent private, are very well established. His poems were published in their first collected edition in 1918; the personal journals were published in 1937 and the letters between 1935 and 1938. Professor Martin did, it seems, have access to the originals of the journals and to Jesuit sources especially with relation to the final period of Hopkins life in Dublin.

One word that often creeps into the active vocabulary of religious people is ‘miracle’. Many would say that miracles occur, or that they have occurred. It is also sometimes suggested that they provide evidence for various things, notably the existence of God, or the truth of some particular religion, or die teaching of certain religious leaders. The topic of miracle has occasioned much philosophical and theological debate. But what should we say about it?

Perhaps the obvious question to turn to at the outset is that of the nature of miracles. What are we discussing when we talk about miracles? The answer is not all that obvious, for those who refer to miracles have offered various understandings of what it is that they are talking about

The scientific and technological advances of the present century have brought about an unprecedented increase in the standard of living of millions of the world’s inhabitants. This has however created new problems that have recently come into prominence. We are acutely aware that the resources of the earth are finite, that we are using them up at an accelerating rate, and that many of our activities are polluting the earth to an unacceptable degree. If we persist along our present course we are heading for an irreversible disaster that will make our present worries pale into insignificance.

These problems are widely debated; books, articles and television programmes tell us about the threats to our fragile earth. Many organisations demand rapid action. It is recognised that the Church has a vital part to play in this debate, and indeed has already made important contributions. In many respects, however, it has failed to rise to the occasion, and does no more than repeat the errors and distortions of the media.

A basic requirement, generally not well understood, is that those who contribute to these debates should have a certain level of understanding of the basic scientific and technological facts. Without this it is almost impossible to say anything useful, and very easy to talk dangerous nonsense. It is thus necessary to begin by a brief summary of the present situation and, with this as a basis, to pass on to wider political and moral questions. It is convenient to begin with the energy crisis, a definite a clear-cut problem that faces us now. We all depend on energy in its various forms, and the amount available to us is directly related to our standard of living. Hundreds of millions of people are now living in the direst poverty because they do not have enough energy. Where are we going to get the energy to give them life, and to support us all in the next century?