In plotting the artistic course of Alexander Solzhenitsyn the two texts which may be taken as datum points of particular importance are the first short novel One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich and The Gulag Archipelago. Writing previously on Ivan Denisovich I proposed an interpretative model which saw the book’s empirical and ‘valueless’ character as having twofold importance: it represented a clean break with previous official ‘illustrating literature’ and simultaneously reflected central characteristics of Soviet society atomised and depoliticised by the rule of the Stalinist bureaucracy. This duality I saw as a threshold which could pave the way for a new and radical, analytic, Soviet literature and yet could also remain tied to an empirical and static reportage of phenomena subsumed under a structure of concepts constituted of abstract, superhistorical, and in the end desperately reactionary values. It is this latter possibility, the rehearsal of the terrible facts of Soviet history organised in the service of a retrogressive ideology, that is realised in The Gulag Archipelago.

The book appears to be a history of the repressive apparatus and of ‘that amazing country of Gulag’, but most editions of it (although not the English language version) are subtitled ‘An experiment in artistic investigation’ which has, as I shall show, a quite different and less authoritative epistemological status. It extensively and repetitively catalogues the entire repertoire of the Stalinist atrocities from the moment of arbitrary arrest, through the process of interrogation, mental and physical torture, to trial or extra-judicial sentencing; it recounts the intermediate stays in the transit prisons, the MVD internal prisons and the ‘boxes’ in which prisoners en route were kept at railway stations.

In the concluding paragraphs of his open letter to the Catholic Institute for International Relations, Mr Allen notes that ‘the ultimate objective of the Palestinians is said to be “a non-Zionist, Arab-Jewish state in the whole of what was once Palestine”. This means the ultimate objective of the Palestinians is still the destruction of the state of Israel as it now is’ (my italics). Mr Allen clearly implies that individuals and organisations who subscribe to the objective of destroying the state of Israel as it now is cannot be considered legitimate parties to a Catholic debate on the Middle East conflict and the desired future for the Israel’- Jewish and Palestinian-Arab peoples. Mr Allen is a Catholic and he questions whether the CIIR is voicing a legitimate Catholic position on the question of the Middle East conflict presumably because Comment 19 either states or implies the desirability of destroying the state of Israel as it now is.

Israeli-Jews, as a rule, are not too well informed of Christian history and more often than not betray unforgiveable ignorance of the development of Catholicism. I am no exception, yet, given my limited knowledge, I would be surprised to find a Catholic consensus that state-worship constitutes part of the Catholic spirit or dogma. I would rather have thought that Catholics, like people of any other religion, might have been expected to oppose any insinuation that unconditional acceptance of the existence of any state as it now is, irrespective of its policies and history, should constitute a condition sine qua non for a legitimate ethical-political discussion. I would further like to state at the outset that in terms of my own political ethics, no ethical discussion of the political domain can take place unless it involves a critical scrutiny of any existing state in the light of its history and de facto policies and can thus decide in each case whether one can justify support for its continued existence. This is as true of the state of Israel as it is of the Vatican State.

Any study of any aspect of the life of the historical Jesus is complicated because of the fact that the gospel accounts of his ministry are interpretations and applications of what he did and said rather than straightforward accounts of his life and activity. Add to this the fact that many Christians today seriously question the possibility of miracles and either dismiss them as fables or explain them as the result of Jesus’ extraordinary psychic gifts, and one becomes aware of the difficulty and delicacy of the task of drawing any conclusions about the miracles, about their historicity, and about their place in modern Christianity. Yet the complexity and sensitivity of the topic has not daunted the exegetes, and recent years have given us a constant flow of books and articles on the miracles. The aim of the present essay is not to attempt the impossible task of reviewing this immense body of literature, but to draw attention to some approaches and trends in modem miracle studies and to examine at some length a few of the more recent books. We will pay special attention to the historical questions raised by the miracle stories, and we treat only of the synoptic miracles, omitting those of John which give rise to somewhat different problems.

One of the striking things about the works of recent writers on the miracles is the lessening of emphasis on the apologetic value of the mighty deeds of Jesus. Not that these writers would deny the teaching of Vatican I that the miracles are most sure signs of divine revelation (cf DS 3009). Nor would they despise the assertion of Vatican II that ‘the miracles of Jesus also confirm that the kingdom has arrived on earth’ (Dogmatic Constitution on the Church no. 5). But they do not look upon the miracles as events praeter, extra, or contra naturam which prove the divinity of Jesus and the validity of his claim.

Poor St Paul: with, ‘Wives be subject to your husbands’, he has a pretty bad reputation as a misogynist. I will try to show, however, that examination of his writings proves that this reputation is undeserved and to indicate how it has grown. So that it has become what Dr Caird describes as: ‘one of the most firmly held of the prejudices and half truths which together comprise the biblical semiliteracy of the man in the street’.

I cannot here go into a detailed exegesis of all the extracts from St Paul’s letters in which women are mentioned, but one central point must be made clearly from the start. St Paul had one main concern. That was, to preach the death and resurrection of Christ Jesus. His mission was not concerned with women as women, or with their place in society or even in the local churches. It was not as a sociologist that Paul wrote but as an apostle. He was concerned above all to preach what Christ had done for all mankind. He was concerned to show people how a new relationship with God could be found through being in Christ. The new relationship with God came through the new covenant established by Christ’s death and resurrection. Through baptism into Christ, people were given the new seal; just as circumcision had been the old seal of God’s relationship with his old people, and the law had been their relationship with God. There would of course be repercussions in social relationships which would follow from the realisation of the new relationship with God through Christ. But if we look at Paul from a particular standpoint: what has he to say about women only?, we are asking a question which he did not ask.

I’m sitting next to Evelyn, in the choir stalls of the hospital chapel. Evelyn, who has been a patient in this hospital for at least twenty-five of her fifty years, is singing away lustily with the rest of us. But the words she is singing are quite different from the ones I’m singing. So different in fact that I can’t make them out at all. But, no matter; ‘God is his own interpreter, and He will make it plain’, the rest of us sing.

In Religious thinking from Childhood to Adolescence, Ronald Goldman says that ‘some religious experiences are so profound and personal and mysterious that it is doubtful if they are communicable at all, except through the emotional language of the arts’. In Evelyn’s case, it is simple enough. She can’t read. She is simply feeling religious emotions and singing religious words in a religious way; the result is, she sounds just like the six-year-old child quoted by Goldman:

In fact, Evelyn is perfectly capable of what Goldman would consider to be ‘adult’ religious thinking, and I know this because I’m preparing her for Confirmation in a few weeks’ time. In the meantime, not understanding the words of Cowper’s hymn is certainly not stopping her from undergoing a genuinely religious experience. In fact, she is worshipping more completely and wholeheartedly than we are. She is more totally involved in an experience of Divinity. Although they are opaque to us, the words she is using fit her experience exactly. The parallel with glossolalia is obvious.