A number of modern historians have reminded us that the history of the West has been the history of revolution. And these revolutions have occurred not merely as the result of an objective crisis in society, but because a crisis was precipitated by the emergence and action of a new dynamic proletariat. In each case, this proletariat had been captured by a new vision of a new social order. Its members found themselves excluded from the benefits of the status quo, or repelled by its injustices. Eventually they reached a point where their consuming passion was to bring the old order down and build a new and they were willing to sacrifice their lives so that this could happen.

These movements became disruptive forces in their societies; in some instances, they overthrow the old order and, eventually, organized society on a new foundation, with new structures of economic, social and political life. They often failed to achieve their goals, yet when we look back on our history today, we can see that many of the most significant breakthroughs toward a more human society have occurred as a result of these revolutions.

It is hard to avoid the conclusion that the emergence of such revolutionary forces is once again the order of the day. In the United States, this new proletariat has made its appearance among the black militants and the radicals of a new student generation. But it is in the Third World, and especially in Latin America, that this phenomenon is most widespread.

After the third international Newman-Conference of Luxembourg, it had been felt that it was time ‘to bring Newman home’. This led to the first Oxford Newman Symposium at Oriel College (1966). The meeting at Newman’s own college was something of an experience, most moving and inspiring, not only by reason of its significance as an ecumenical event in such an historic place, but also, and mainly, because of the things that were said and discussed. Carefully designed by the editors, and reconsidered after the discussion by the contributors, the whole collection of essays, although written by scholars of so different denominations and habits of mind, shows a remarkable convergence in the appreciation of Newman’s place and importance in contemporary theology. It may be said, indeed, that it constitutes a milestone in the history of Newman scholarships and will for ever remain one of the most outstanding publications on the general subject of Newman’s thought and influence.

Four capital points were made: 1, Newman is not only a great historic figure, a saint, a master of English prose, but one of the foremost theologians of his age and perhaps of all times. He did not enrich us with a new system, but he created a new spirit, a new way of putting theological questions. He opened new paths and brought theology back to its proper tasks and methods. 2, Newman’s theology is a result and a most personal synthesis of various theological traditions.

Ritual is pre-eminently a form of communication. Let us turn therefore to a modern sociologist who conducts research among ourselves into different patterns of communication. Professor Basil Bernstein says that

He distinguishes two different types of linguistic codes. One, he calls the elaborated code, in which, as he says, the speaker selects from a wide range of syntactic alternatives, and these are flexibly organized; this speech requires complex planning. In the other, which he calls the restricted code, the speaker draws a much narrower range of syntactic alternatives, and these alternatives are more rigidly organized. The elaborated code is adapted to enable a speaker to make his own intentions explicit. It is adapted to the elucidation of general principles.

Dr Lake’s achievement over the past ten years or so has been considerable. He has not limited himself to his own clinical work, but has built up the Clinical Theology Centre in Nottingham and led a team of doctors and clergy in organizing seminars throughout the country. It is he more than anyone else who has alerted the clergy in this country to the need for the right kind of personal relationships in pastoral work, and to the psychological blockages which too often present barriers. This book, based on his teaching booklets but going well beyond them, will spread his influence even more widely. Our chief feeling must surely be one of gratitude to Dr Lake, and to the publishers for a splendid piece of book production. One might almost say the book is too well produced. Such a massive volume gives the impression of being a definitive text, and such a bold attempt at synthesis makes criticism seem niggardly. All the same, it would be no service to Dr Lake if readers were to accept his writings uncritically, for he is working in a field where several disciplines intersect, and where development is continuous, so that mutual criticism is a condition of life.

The first doubt concerns the title Clinical Theology itself. This is not just a quibble about words. What is the book really about, theology or psychiatry? Dr Lake has been criticized for not being sufficiently rigorous either in his theology or his psychiatry, according to one’s point of view. The sub-title, A theological and psychiatric basis to clinical pastoral care makes the intention clearer.

Has the Roman Catholic Church now come round in favour of revolution? It is in South America that the question arises above all. The multiplication of facts and declarations which provoke the question often incline one to give an affirmative answer. In order to see what’s what, it might be useful to review certain recent events that have been particularly noteworthy.

Most recent declarations rest on paragraphs 30 and 31 of Pope Paul Vi’s encyclical Populorum Progressio: ‘3o. There are certainly situations in which injustice cries to heaven. When entire populations, deprived of the necessities of life, live in a dependence that prevents them from exercising any initiative or responsibility, or from making any cultural advance or taking any part in social or political life, the temptation to remove such insults to human dignity by violence is great. 31. We know, however, that revolutionary insurrection—except in the case of manifest and prolonged tyranny that attacks fundamental rights of the person and endangers the common good of the country—engenders new injustices, brings in new imbalances, and involves new ruins. A real evil is not to be combated by a greater misery.’

These two paragraphs have in general been received as a faithful expression of the traditional thought of the Church. The new factor here is therefore not at the level of thought or of expression; it lies in the welcome it has received and in the way in which it has been interpreted at the hands of a Christian public that is as inclined to justify ‘revolutionary insurrection’ now as it was formerly to discourage or condemn it.