The concept of ‘desire’ offers an interesting bridge between cultural phenomena of contemporary society and the theological tradition. The exploration of some key elements of this tradition concerning desire supports the launching of a ‘theology of desire’. Although the natural desire for God, as discussed in the so-called ‘théologie nouvelle’, provides very valuable material for this exploration, ‘desire’ is conceived here in a somewhat broader sense. Three levels of desire are distinguished. The ‘lover's desire’ refers to the conscious affirmation of the presence of God's love. The second level, called the ‘seeker's desire’, concerns a more general desire for happiness. Third, the desire for God as an ontological term refers to the relationship between God and humankind. The desire for God, revealed by Jesus Christ, demonstrates the ultimate capacity of our human nature. Thus christology, and especially the creed of Chalcedon, offers the key to systematic anthropology. Finally, the daily reality of the desire for God is discussed with the help of Gregory of Nyssa's concept of asceticism. The integrating power of the Holy Spirit makes the channelling of our desires possible, so that the desire for God forms a part of daily life. Three challenges to encourage continuation on the way toward a theology of desire form the conclusion. The reconsidering of an ontological approach in theology, the priority to christology in systematic anthropology and the ethical and missionary possibilities of the desire for God are invitations for theologians to further explore the theology of desire.

The Christian doctrine of creation is predicated upon two convictions: the transcendence of God and the creative activity of God in the world. While recent studies have shown the compatibility of these two seemingly conflicting convictions, the grounding for them has received less attention. This paper argues that a proper Christian understanding of these convictions and their relationship is dependent upon seeing their basis in christology and trinitarian doctrine. It thus traces the close relationship between Christ and creation and that between creation and redemption in scripture, the patristic period and their more recent retrieval in Schleiermacher and Barth, comparing such conceptions to pagan and neo-pagan alternatives for understanding the God–world relation.

The relationship between religion and public life is a universal problem, but discussions of it quickly become very local. They begin with the global reality of religious diversity, then the analysis descends into the particulars of the legal and constitutional system immediately in view, assuming always the sociological features of religious diversity most familiar to the audience at hand. French analysts typically take laïcité as the standard for modern solutions to the problem, while they view with alarm the cultural gap which separates older French citizens from recent Muslim immigrants. American writers, by contrast, usually have a more benign view of cultural diversity, which has grown up over generations of immigration. They turn quickly to the ambiguities of church–state law which govern religious expression in public space. Roger Trigg provides a thoughtful alternative to these parochial analyses. His Religion in Public Life explores a variety of national settings and he formulates his questions in terms which avoid legal or religious assumptions that are already in place where the question is asked. At the same time, he makes no premature claims to rational universality or global solutions. Religion in Public Life is primarily an investigation of European and North American contexts, or in other places which share a British legal and cultural heritage. In these places, religion and public life are shaped by the realities of modern law and the modern state and appeals to reason still mean something, even if they cannot mean quite as much as liberal theorists thought they meant only a few decades ago. But even among these nations, linked by culture, commerce and commitment to democracy, there is a surprising range of legal arrangements relating to religious expression and religious institutions and there are considerable differences in the social facts behind the legal differences. This, Trigg suggests, is a large enough world to allow us to discuss real differences without succumbing to the confusion which sometimes results from too much information. It is also a world in which we are acutely aware that public life has problems in need of solutions. Instead of hurrying to keep religion out of sight or under control, we are perhaps more willing to see what it has to contribute.

This book is designed to present an arc: on the one side, at the beginning of the last century, a theology based in the thought of Thomas Aquinas and on the other side, at the century's end, a non-Thomist ‘nuptial mysticism’. The ‘model Thomist’ of the book is Réginald Garrigou-Lagrange (p. 10), those in the middle, who leave such ‘Thomism’ behind, are Chenu, Congar, Schillebeeckx, Lonergan, Rahner and Küng and the advocates of a nuptial theology are de Lubac, John Paul II, von Balthasar and Ratzinger (each of these men has a chapter to himself). That looks like the basis for a solid, informative description of twentieth-century Catholic theology, on the lines marked out by the many objective historical accounts of modern theology and theologians by the author's confrère, Aidan Nichols.

In her remarkably forceful and learned book, Light in Darkness: Hans Urs von Balthasar and the Catholic Doctrine of Christ's Descent into Hell, Alyssa Lyra Pitstick offers a comprehensive critique of Hans Urs von Balthasar's theology of the descent into hell. Pitstick contributes to a sharpening of readings of Balthasar and forces one to make precise interpretative judgements. Clearly, she has produced a work with which anyone interested in Balthasar must engage, and the conversation and debate the book has started will, to be sure, continue for many years ahead. This said, I am afraid that Dr Pitstick's unrelenting and totalising prosecution of Balthasar's theology leads her to disallow any charitable reading and critical appropriation of Balthasar's creative and, at times, sublime theology. Although not necessarily the final evaluative word on Balthasar, or on the doctrine of the descent into hell, Pitstick's book provides a tremendous spark for those interested in Balthasar's theology and for much needed reflection on the significance of the church's confession that Jesus Christ descended into hell.

Though rarely addressed in a direct way, the theology of God's perfection is a central point at issue in contemporary Christian dogmatics. A good many debates of the moment turn on how the perfection of God's life is to be conceived: debates about the relation of the so-called immanent and economic Trinity; about the propriety of explicating the person and work of Christ through the metaphysics of divine and human natures; about the applicability of kenosis to account for the relation of the divine Word to the human career of Jesus; about the constitutive significance of temporality for the being of God; and much else besides. Recent disagreements amongst Barth scholars about the issue of the relation of the doctrine of divine election and the doctrine of the Trinity are in some measure animated by differing conceptions of the perfection of God, and one of the many ways of profiting from Dr Pitstick's book is to read it as, in part at least, an essay in defence of a certain construal of divine perfection. Indeed, one of my hopes for the book is that, once the noise of battle has subsided and the wounded have been dressed and taken to shelter, we may be able to engage peaceably and constructively with some of the material dogmatic issues to which it has drawn our attention. I do not propose to comment in detail on Dr Pitstick's evaluation of Balthasar; any judgements I might reach would be those of a mere amateur, one of those Protestants who in the 1970s discovered in Balthasar something which kept us reading Roman Catholic theology after Lonergan had wearied us and before we had been pointed to the treasures of ressourcement theology. Instead, I want to draw out from the book three doctrinal topics of capital importance: the ‘finished’ character of the redemptive work of Christ on the cross; the relation between theology and economy in the doctrine of the Trinity; and the doctrine of the hypostatic union – in all of which topics, of course, we are pressed to attend to the perfection of God and the acts of God.

Given the extent of agreement between Dr Webster and myself, his article suggests how this topic may promote ecumenical reappropriation of our common Christian heritage. Now if we can only get the Catholics to agree among themselves. . . Seriously, however, he has identified the fundamental questions of my book: what are our doctrinal commitments as Christians, and do we take them seriously enough to accept that not all positions are compatible with them? Are we consequently willing to set aside some propositions, or even adopt others?