The whole of the Catholic world has this year bee directed by the Holy Father to centre its devote on the Mother of God. The occasion is the centenary of the definition of the Immaculate Conception, and the effect is one more year in which the constantly developing doctrine of the place of Mary in the work of the redemption and therefore in the daily life of man, is given impetus and hurried on apace. It might seem that we had progressed too far, that there was little more to be said or thought on this matter. But in fact the development, like true growth any kind, is drawing its vigour from the centre and the is in these days an increasing sense of origins and source which shows that the mind of the Church is not, like the mind of many men, moving on from one thing to another without retaining any unity or synthesis. The mind of the Church is the mind of the Word of God and therein all one from the central reality to the outermost detail of idea or phrase.

During last year's Life of the Sprit conference at Hawkesyard it was the sense of the meeting that worship is essentially connected with eating together and working together. Though it is often difficult for the readers of this review to eat together there seems no reason why they should not work together. The following article is an attempt to start a common work, in the sense that the author is quite gaily incapable of carrying it to completion, but hopes that others may do so. It is also an attempt to play together, because one of the most depressing features of Catholic reviews is their lack of play in expressing opinions: it is as though the shadow of infallibility falls upon any Catholic arguing his point, and he becomes hidden in a cloud of ‘beastly earnestness'. Knowing that the shadow of infallibility will not fall upon the following article we can begin the work with light hearts.

The difficulty becomes more acute in certain minds, and the pain more excruciating when it seems that despite all conceivable efforts at adaptation, fof reasons which render all initiative helpless, the action of the Church is far from being efficacious. Far from continually advancing, she seems to be slipping backwards. This is true even in lands where she appears to be reigning, even in places where her influence is acknowledged and supported, she does not make the gospel reign around her and the social order is not transformed by its principles. But should not a tree be judged by its fruits? Is not one, henceforth, justified in thinking that the Church will never be able to realise, more than in symbol, what others boast of bringing to actuality? Consequently, should not one transfer to these others the faith which he had once vowed to her?

In his latest encyclical, ‘Fulgens corona gloria', the Pope has proclaimed our Lady's Year. The occasion of this proclamation is the centenary celebration in December of the infallible definition of the Immaculate Conception, of the Virgin Mother of God. This is but an instance of the progressive development of Marian tradition from the earliest times is seen to be implicit and almost instinctive in the Faith of the Church. Pope Pius XII has allied himself closely with that tradition by becoming its spokesman. This he has done in defining the dogma of the bodily Assumption of our Blessed Lady into heaven, and dedicating the present commemorative year to her honour.

Between Mary and the mysteries of faith there is an essential connection. This is seen so clearly in the Holy Rosary, wherein the joys, sorrows and glories of a holy partnership between the Son and his Mother are woven into a garland of prayer.

There is always a fascination about trying to discern patterns in the course of the world's history, and this perhaps as much as anything else explains the Phenomenally popular, as distinct from professional, interest in Professor Toynbee's Studies in History. A more particular source of fascination is picking out the turning points of history. Toynbee, for instance, suggests that the decline of the West began in what had hitherto been considered the high Middle Ages, to be precise in the years immediately. Mediately preceding the pontificate of Hildebrand. To be more precise he tracks it down to a small action on the part Hildebrand before he became pope, when he hired thugs to counter-attack the thugs who were stealing the offerings of Peter's pence from the altar of St Peter's.

On the 16th March, 1902, Emilia Emaldi was delivered of her second child and, to her great joy, a son. Her friends had previously told her to prepare the long robe as he would be a priest. The thought gave her much pleasure as it was her dearest wish to give a son to the priesthood.

At this time, the family lived in S. Lorenzo near Lugo in the beautiful province of Ravenna in north-east Italy. Three years later they moved to the ancient seaport of Ravenna, but with the entry of Italy into the war in 1915 the heavy bombing forced them to return to Lugo. They suffered great hardship, and the father, Francesco Emaldi, was forced to work at anything which came his way in order to make a living.

The boy, who had been christened Alfeo, was nervous and naughty. He adored his father, whom he always obeyed promptly, but although he loved his mother dearly he behaved badly towards her.

In the fortieth annual social week held in Pau, France, this year the subject under discussion was ‘Peace'. There was a brief note in the Denver Register calling attention to a letter of Monsignor Montini, pro-Secretary of State, which said that this examination of the problems of peace by men of faith, thought and action is most timely today when men's souls are more troubled than ever before. Never in human history has greater discord been known. This world-wide dissension invades the daily lives of the people. It feeds and maintains social conflict. Its origins are of an ideological as much as of an economic nature. It eats into the very hearts of families and institutions. Its psychological effects sap the will-power and cloud judgment. Even the flag of peace, unfurled for partisan ends, frequently divides mankind.

The English Cistercians recently acquired a manuscript, copied in about 1200, of the first Life of St Bernard. It is a good specimen of the way in which the Life was distributed through the Cistercian and other monateries of Europe in the decades following the saint's death and also shows the kind of difficulty which a small or newly-founded house may have had in setting up and maintaining taining its scriptorium. The codex is all the more valuable because it is headed by a miniature portrait of the saint executed probably when many who had seen him were still alive. The portrait from the first folio of the codex is reproduced, a little larger than actual size, in this issue. If any are Interested in a more technical account of the MS.

Knowing his end to be drawing near—it was in fact the day before his death—Fr Vincent McNabb was concerned to make certain provisions for his funeral. Calling one of the younger brethren to him, he said to him: ‘Dear Father, I may well be dead tomorrow and there is a service I would ask of your charity. I don't want a shaped and polished coffin such as they usually provide, nor should I like to have a brass factory-made cross on it nor be labelled with a brass label. I want an ordinary box made of the same sort of wood as this floor'—and he pointed with a smile to the common deal floor, uneven and knotted, which he had swept day by day with his bare hand, a floor such as had been his only bed for forty years and more.

During the last ten years or so there has been a greatly increased awakening, among Christians all over the world, to the importance of the spiritual sense of Scripture, to the value of the symbolic approach to Scripture, and to a consciousness of the influence of biblical symbolism upon the spiritual life of the Christian. The fact that the deliberations of this meeting are devoted to a study of the relationship of Scripture to the spiritual life is one more witness to this renewed interest. It is all the more important that we should have in our minds clear ideas about the nature of the spiritual sense, especially in view of the neglect of such studies during the nineteenth century and until recent times, and also because of the accusation of fancifulness which is easily levelled against its exponents in the present, as it was in the earlier ages of the Church. Furthermore, great prudence is needed in a spiritual exposition, as the recent papal encyclicals have warned us, so that any irresponsible fancies may be avoided.

One of the Scribes … asked him which was the first commandment of all. But Jesus answered him, The first commandment of all is,

"Hear, O Israel! The Lord our God is one God;
And thou shalt love the Lord thy God
With thy whole heart,
and with thy whole soul,
and with thy whole mind,
and with thy whole strength."

We must remember that by the term ‘Jesus Prayer’ the Byzantine East refers, loosely enough, to any invocation centring in the Saviour's name itself. This invocation has taken various forms depending on whether it was used by itself, or included in more or less developed formulas. Moreover, it is for the individual to decide on his special way of invoking the name. In the East it has tended to take definite shape in the phrase 'Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me a sinner', but this formula has not been, and is not, the only one. That is an authentic ‘Jesus Prayer’ in the Byzantine sense, which is a repeated invocation whose core and strength is the name of Jesus. One might say, for example, 'Jesus Christ', or ‘Lord Jesus'. The oldest formula, the simplest, and in our view the easiest, is the word ‘Jesus’ used by itself. It is in this sense that we shall speak here of the 'Jesus Prayer'.