Satan was the first to begin to question the commands of obedience. ‘Why’, he said, ‘did God command you not to eat of the tree of good and evil ?’ (Gen. 3). Before this, man who was without guile obeyed without reserve, not so much because of the reasonableness of the command but because of the authority of the commander. For just as faith in what human reason has experienced is not meritorious, so obedience is separated from the virtue of humility when the reason for the command is in agreement with it. But you wish to hear why we should act or cease to act in accordance with another's will or command. The reason is because in this way especially we are imitators of Christ, as dearest sons; and we walk in the love with which we loved us. He was made obedient in all things for us, not only to assist us but also to be an example, so that as he behaved so may we behave in this world.

William's literary personality conveys the impression of a sensitive and rather depressive man, who was very much the perfectionist. He seems to have been tortured by the fact that it was not possible for him, as the abbot of a Benedictine monastery, to achieve precisely what he was looking for in the religious life. When he met Saint Bernard, however, and saw what the Cistercian reform was like, he felt he had found his place at last. Bernard tried to persuade him not to change. William was doing the Lord's work, after all, he wasn't getting any younger, and change was always a risky business. William listened for a time, but eventually he felt he had to make up his mind for himself. He has left an account of his worry in the eleventh of the Meditativae Orationes, and again in the ‘Nature and Dignity of Love', where he laments that the sons he loves are a perpetual source of anxiety. ‘There is still a long climb ahead of us before we reach the top of God's holy mountain . . . Surely an old man is entitled to a little consideration when he no longer has the strength to carry his burden ?'

The theme of the Meditativae Orationes is a search for the face of God. William is looking for various things, but all together they amount to something like a convincing vision, a view as nearly possible perfect of the reality of God.

Today the conflict in critical opinion over controversial films often seems more pronounced when it comes to the kind of film that is most likely to engage the interest of Catholics. Never has it been more important that the intelligent Catholic should make up his own mind over a difficult picture than in the present state of the cinema; and by and large there is not, in this country, a great deal that will help him enlarge his cinematic critical apparatus. In France, Belgium or Italy the highbrow Catholic is not ashamed to admit to enthusiasm for the cinema: in England one only too often finds him saying that he cannot be bothered with films. This puts us at a considerable disadvantage when it comes to international gatherings concerned with any form of mass media and, worse still, at a visible loss when it comes to discussion with alert non-Catholic cinema-goers in this country about any particular film on which we should certainly have clear views one way or another.

The eighth London Film Festival held last autumn provided a pertinent case in point. Owing to the massive rebuilding that is still taking place on the South Bank, the films this year were shown in the West End; in consequence a much larger proportion of the general public (as opposed to members of the British Film Institute) came to the performances. Three of the films shown were OCIC (Office Catholique Internationale du Cin?ma) prize winners – one of them the Grand Prix for 1964 – and several others were of lively interest to Catholic audiences.

When these lines appear in print the third session of Vatican II will be in full swing and some crucial declarations of the Church's mind, which must have a vital bearing on the problems of Christian unity, will be in the making. Not least in importance among these is the revised Schema de Oecumenismo. It will perhaps be useful to examine the attitude of the World Council of Churches to what is happening in the view of representatives well qualified to speak for it.

This attitude may, I think, be summed up by saying that while there is generous recognition of progress there is also considerable doubt among a number of responsible non-Catholic ecumenists whether, in view of its well known presuppositions, the Catholic Church can, as such, engage in ecumenical dialogue on the terms now common to all the member-Churches of the World Council of Churches, including the Eastern Orthodox. This doubt is fairly widespread. It is expressed, for instance, by Dr Lukas Vischer, one of the World Council observers at the Vatican Council. Speaking during the Unity Octave in Zurich in 1964, just after Pope Paul's pilgrimage to the Holy Land, he said: The non-Roman Catholic Churches do not question the fact that the Roman Catholic Church must claim to be the one and only Church. But if a permanent conversation is to be established between the divided Churches, then a form of fellowship must be found which does not compel the non-Roman Catholic Churches to accept the Roman Catholic concept of unity and of union.

The spiritual life is not only contained in participation in the liturgy. Certainly the Christian is called to pray in community, but nevertheless he ought to enter into his chamber to pray to his Father in secret, further, as the Apostle teaches, we ought to pray without ceasing.

Second Vatican Council. Decree on the Sacred Liturgy, 12 Now listen to how we ought to pray. Prayer has many good qualities. Where you should pray is not insignificant or a question of little importance. The Apostle says: ‘I desire then that in every place the men should pray raising holy hands without anger or quarrelling'. And the Lord says in the gospel: ‘But when you pray, enter into your chamber and shut the door and pray to your Father.’ Doesn't it seem to you that there is a contradiction? The Apostle says. Pray in every place: and the Lord says.

This is a symposium in which Archbishop Roberts and ten American Catholics argue that the usual teaching in the Church about contraceptives is in need of revision. They seek to show that their use in some circumstances may be morally justified. A great many Catholics will, like the present reviewer, open it eagerly; the more critical may not find their enthusiasm invariably sustained. Contributions to any symposium vary in value and the first duty of any reviewer is to indicate which, in his opinion, are important and which may safely be left until we have a lot of time to spare.

In this book there are three chapters which an educated Catholic in England must read if he is to inform his conscience properly in this matter: these are by Rosemary Ruether, Elizabeth A. Daugherty and Leslie Dewart. If these alone had been published, I believe the effect on English-speaking Catholicism would have been electrifying; as it is their voice may be muffled by the wool in which they are wrapped. Next I would place articles by Gregory Baum and (with serious reservations), Justus George Lawler, the contents of which are good but not unfamiliar. After this we descend rapidly through the ponderous and the incoherent to two almost compulsively skippable essays by professors respectively of dogmatic and moral theology.

In his introduction. Archbishop Roberts says that the natural law arguments against contraception are inconclusive. He gives reasons for this which I do not find cogent. In the first place he holds that since precepts of the natural law do not depend for their validity upon revelation they must easily be known without revelation.

This Time (springtime) was that very one which appeared at the moment of the first creation of the world, when the earth brought forth shoots, when the stars appeared, when heaven and earth and all that is in them came into being together. It is at this time also that the Saviour of the whole world accomplished the mystery of his own feast and, like a great star, lit up the whole world with the rays of the true religion and indeed the occasion seemed to surpass the birthday of the cosmos. At this time the type, the ancient Pasch which is called the Passover, was brought to fulfilment. Furthermore, it bears the image of the slain lamb, and hints at the sign of eating unleavened bread. All these things find their fulfilment in the feast of Salvation. It is he, the Christ, who was the Lamb whose Body was stretched out. But it was he also, the Sun of Justice, whose divine springtime and salvation-bearing change caused the life of men to pass from evil to good.

My fair virgins, nothing can so help a person towards virtue as chastity. For chastity alone causes the soul to be guided in the noblest and best possible way and to be washed clean of the stains and impurities of the world. Indeed, ever since Christ taught us to practise it and revealed to us its unsurpassable beauty, the reign of the evil one has been destroyed, whereas before he had continually been capturing and enslaving mankind ; so that none of the men of old were fully pleasing to the Lord, but all were overwhelmed by error, forthe Lawwas not at all adequatetofree mankind from corruption, until virginity, succeeding the Law, held man in thrall to the commands of Christ. (St Methodius. The Symposium. Logos 10).

Christ, who in his Gospel promises only crosses and afflictions, has plainly no need of rich men in his holy Church; their grandeur has nothing in common with his deep abasement, with God's humbling himself even to the cross. We may judge, therefore, that he does not seek the rich for their own sake. For to what use can he put them in his kingdom ? To build him grand temples, to enrich his altars with gold and precious stones ? Do not suppose that he takes pleasure in such adornments.