Forrest, Benjamin K., Joshua D. Chatraw, and Alister E. McGrath, eds. The History of Apologetics: A Biographical and Methodological Introduction. Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan Academic, 2020. 847 pages.
Reviewed by W.P. Haggerty.
Covering seven historical periods stretching from the second century to the present day, this weighty volume contains portraits of forty-four exceptional figures who defended the totus Christus. To grasp the nature of Christian apologetics, the editors assure us, context is all-important: social, political, and religious challenges inevitably shape the response of the apologist. Thus, each entry includes a biographical sketch, an analysis of the theological questions of the time, and a concise treatment of the methodological plan adopted by the apologist. While limited space prevents a full inventory of its content, a general overview of the work might be helpful.
During the Patristic era, the defense of the faith often led to the development of doctrine; indeed, one could catalogue the Church Fathers in relation to their specific opponent. The section includes responses to: Judaism (Justin Martyr); Gnosticism (Irenaeus and Tertullian); various forms of paganism (Origen, Athenagoras, and Augustine); and finally, heretics working outside the boundaries of orthodoxy (Athanasius). Such classification can be misleading, however. For example, Athanasius supported the full divinity of the Christ against the Arian threat, but his work serves also as a comprehensive case for the superiority of Christianity over pagan religion.
The examination of Medieval apologists focuses on the historical challenge of the Islamic religion, which, given its devotion to the absolute unicity of the Godhead, rejected the two doctrines fundamental to Christianity, the Incarnation and the Trinity. Because of their proximity to the Arabic world, Eastern Orthodox writers are well represented here (John Damascene; Theodore Abu Quran), yet the editors do not neglect the Western Church. There are substantial essays on Anselm of Canterbury and Thomas Aquinas which review the key elements in their apologetic work (the Ontological Argument; the Five Ways; the theory of analogy). The section concludes with a brief treatment of Gregory Palamas’ debate with Barlaam of Seminara over the degree of certainty in religious matters.
In confronting the rise of science in the early modern era, apologists chose different paths. Some questioned the basic aims of modern science, but others adopted a more irenic attitude, using the new discoveries to their advantage: the British theologian Joseph Butler employed probability theory to provide support for biblical revelation; and in his celebrated Watchmaker argument, William Paley appropriated the language of technology in order to establish the existence of a Grand Designer. But the flirtation with the via moderna could be pushed too far. In his study of Hugo Grotius, Bryan Baise suggests that Grotius’ “bare-bones apologetic strategy” tended to weaken his message. Hoping to defend a Christianity common to all denominations, Grotius nearly emptied the faith of doctrinal content — even to the point of avoiding any discussion of the Trinity.
In the nineteenth century, Christian writers confronted a dominant liberalism which threatened to subvert the Christian tradition. Corneliu C. Simut gives a thoughtful assessment of John Henry Newman’s contribution to this struggle. There are also expert analyses of two American authors (Simon Greenleaf and B.B. Warfield) who upheld the legitimacy of scriptural claims in the face of an emerging historical-critical exegesis. The inclusion of Soren Kierkegaard here is something of a surprise. Known for his searing critique of Christendom, he does not fit the mold of a typical apologist. Nevertheless, while he was doubtless wary of the kind of apologetics that reduced the faith to the dreary assent to propositions, Kierkegaard did not altogether reject a more traditional approach. The use of historical evidence, he contended, could serve to lure the prospective Christian into a confrontation with the “absolute paradox” — Christ.
For the section on twentieth-century American apologists, the editors chose five theologians associated with the Reformed tradition in the United States (Gresham Machen; Cornelius Van Til; Gordon Haddon Clark; Francis A. Schaeffer; Edward John Carnell). Despite their common faith, there was disagreement over the basic aim of apologetics. The central question, illustrated in the quarrel between Van Til and Clark, concerned the issue of “presuppositionalism.” According to Van Til, since the apologist begins by “presupposing” biblical faith, there could be no common ground upon which both believers and non-believers could stand. This of course severely restricted the scope of apologetics. Clark insisted, on the contrary, that common ground existed in their shared ability to reason about the world. His argument placed crucial importance upon the law of contradiction, the fundamental principle of rationality; by demonstrating that other forms of theism were logically inconsistent, Clark hoped to show that Christianity offered the most reasonable view of things.
The selection of twentieth-century European apologists presents a familiar cast of characters. There is a fine analysis of A.E. Taylor’s Faith of a Moralist, a neglected masterpiece which traces the dependence of morality on religion. The works of German theologian Dietrich Bonhoeffer are also examined, though his heroic death at the hands of the Nazis offers a more profound witness to Christ than his writings ever could. Three apologists are grouped together because of the literary quality of their contributions: G. K. Chesterton, C. S. Lewis, and Dorothy L. Sayers. While the first two are well-known to readers, Sayers’ name has faded. A brilliant student of the tradition and a creative artist of the highest rank, she used fiction and drama to explore the Christian mysteries.
The authors considered in the concluding section testify to the diversity — and the continued vigor — of apologetics over the last 30 years. There are the popular books of Ravi Zacharias, a writer recognized for his innovative approach to defending the faith. There are the exegetical efforts of Gary R. Habermas whose studies recall Simon Greenleaf’s earlier justification of scriptural inerrancy. Perhaps the main attraction here is the sympathetic appraisal of four academics whose works have questioned the core assumptions of late modernity. Whether one considers Alvin Plantinga’s vindication of religious truths as “properly basic beliefs,” William Lane Craig’s revival of philosophical theology, or Charles Taylor’s brilliant evaluation of the effects of secularism on modern culture, all merit respectful attention. The achievement of British philosopher Richard Swinburne, however, takes pride of place. An early critic of positivism, Swinburne offers a wide-ranging defense of Christian theism. His project, best expressed in his phrase “First philosophy, then theology,” is a two-pronged approach modeled after Thomas Aquinas’ attempt to assimilate Aristotelian theory in the thirteenth century. Swinburne first establishes the reasonableness of Christianity by demonstrating its essential intelligibility with respect to contemporary thought (ordinary language theory); in this task, he argues for the existence of God, the compatibility of faith and reason, and the over-all coherence of theism. He then applies his considerable analytical talents to particular doctrinal matters (the Atonement; the Resurrection).
This summary offers but a quick peek at the treasures hidden within this fine collection. St. Peter entreats the faithful to “always be ready to give an explanation to anyone who asks you for a reason for your hope.” The History of Apologetics, comprising the wealth of Christian wisdom, should aid in this endeavor.
W.P. Haggerty taught philosophy for many years at Gannon University in Erie, Pennsylvania.
Congar, Yves. Challenge to the Church: The Case of Archbishop LeFebvre. Trans. Paul Inwood. Ed. Andrew Likoudis. St. Louis, MO: En Route, 2026. 156 pages.
Reviewed by Fr. Dillon Vita.
The republication of Yves Congar’s critique of the LeFebvrites could not have been more timely. It was republished only days after the Society of St. Pius X yet again illicitly ordained men to the episcopate, and consequently incurred the penalty of excommunication. Congar’s Challenge to the Church has the benefit of having been written before much of the Society’s entrenchment in their schism, yet he presciently foresaw much that would occur.
Only last year, I had been trying to track down a copy of this book, as I had hoped to use it in my MA thesis concerning Congar’s theology of tradition. However, I could only find the French version of the book, which unfortunately was of no help as I do not read French. So, naturally, I was excited to hear of its republication in English. The occasional monograph is ideal for understanding Congar’s view of tradition and his understanding of the Second Vatican Council, as these are the principal subjects of his polemics against the SSPX. Its availability in the English language alone opens up this resource to a whole new range of students of twentieth-century theology. Yet, as I was reading the book, I was struck by how helpful the additional material was, including the foreword, the introduction, the afterword, and the historical timeline of the Society of St. Pius X.
Larry Chapp, in his typical erudite fashion, places this book within today’s context. He locates the issue of LeFebvre’s conception of an “Eternal Rome” at the heart of even the society’s continued schismatic actions and atmosphere (ix). They appeal to an interminable crisis so that they might create a fantasy version of Catholicism, in which they might take center stage.
For his part, in the space of only a few pages, Andrew Likoudis masterfully presents what’s at stake in the traditionalist controversy, and lays out for those new to the topic the main areas of contention that the theology of the SSPX poses. This is a crucial contribution as it orients the reader to the historical backdrop in which Congar is writing and the theological stakes that he perceived were at issue.
And Andrew Mioni offers a more substantial afterword that functions to offer the reflections of someone who has thought deeply about the very problem that Congar feared would ensue if Marcel LeFebvre persisted in his antagonism. Congar had published this book with some level of optimism as it had been announced that LeFebvre was to meet with Pope Paul VI at Castel Gandolfo. In his natural optimistic perspective, Congar had hoped that this would be the beginning of a reconciliation between the Society and the Roman Catholic Church, but sadly such a reconciliation never transpired. Instead, LeFebvre and the LeFebvrites grew more intransigent as the decades went by. As Mioni points out, the Church’s merciful gestures such as the granting of faculties did not end up bringing the traditionalists any closer to reuniting with the Church (134). He contends, rather, that the medicine of excommunication that the Church has recently imposed is the correct remedy, since she has tried to dialogue with the LeFebvrites for 50 years to no avail. In the end, dialogue is only possible with a party who agrees to listen and discuss in good faith.
In short, Challenge to the Church is an ideal read for anyone who wishes to get a handle on the recent controversy with the Society of St. Pius X. It provides the clairvoyant diagnosis of Congar alongside a presentation of the historical background of the controversy and superb, recent diagnoses of the theological stakes of the problem at hand. All of these together provide a sufficient orientation for the faithful who might be wondering why the Pope would so strongly censure the traditionalist group.
Rev. Dillon Vita is a priest of the Diocese of Rockville Centre.
Glavich, Mary Kathleen, SND. Cherished by Jesus: A Daily Devotional for Women. Chicago: Loyola Press, 2024. 397 pages.
Reviewed by Katrina J.E. Milton.
In the one-page introduction of the book, Sr. Glavich explains that her one-a-day reflection book is a way for women to know that they are cherished by Jesus.
Each day’s reflection begins with a quote from the New Testament, which Sr. Glavich describes as a love note from Jesus, direct quotes spoken by Him in the Gospel. Through those quotes from Scripture, Jesus “teaches you, comforts you, strengthens you, and above all, assures you of His love” (page v). Sr. Glavich ends each day’s reflection with a short response, or prayer, to Jesus, which summarizes the main topic or theme of the day.
Knowing that I would be writing a review of the book, and wanting to fully participate in the reflection process, I purchased a 365-day journal. Each day, I would write the Biblical passage on the top of my journal’s page, take notes as I read, and create goals for myself from the reflection. Some of my goals included “remember that God always loves you,” “be a blessing unto others,” and “have faith in God’s will.” Taking notes and writing your own reflection is not needed to enjoy the book; you can just read and think after each day’s devotion. However, I found that the process of setting aside 10 minutes in the evening to read, think of God, make goals, and plan for the future was a beneficial, calming, and relaxing end to my day. Reading each day’s reflection took only a minute or two, but I enjoyed savoring my own thoughts and reflections as much as I did reading Sr. Glavich’s words.
I found that the book’s reflections had two main themes: make yourself a more pious follower of Jesus and help others. Examples of helping others include sharing meals, sharing your faith, and donating clothes and money to the needy, even if it is the two copper coins of the widow’s offering (Mark 12:41–44 and Luke 21:1–4). Many of the daily reflections focus on the desire of love: to be wanted, to be loved and cherished, and to have happiness and joy. Sr. Glavich reiterates throughout the book that true love and true happiness can only be found in God and will one day be ours in Heaven.
Throughout the book, Sr. Glavich quotes the saints and tells stories about their lives, focusing on the good they have done on earth during their lifetimes. A few saints that are mentioned and quoted include St. Augustine, St. Ignatius, St. Carlo Acutis, St. Mother Teresa of Calcutta, St. Athanasius, St. Katharine Drexel, and St. Thérèse of Lisieux. My favorite story was the one shared on Dec. 31 of St. Frances Xavier Cabrini. Although she was only five feet tall and coped with frail health all her life, St. Frances Xavier Cabrini was able to found 67 institutions for the sick and poor in the U.S. Even though she was afraid of water, she crossed the ocean 27 times to do God’s work.
Sr. Glavich’s advice is intrinsically Catholic: teaching about the Trinity, exemplifying Mary, and urging readings to attend Mass, receive the Eucharist, go to confession, pray the rosary, and read the Bible. A non-Catholic reading the book may be a bit confused by the Catholic vocabulary used, such as references to Mass, saints, and Church history. Although a non-Catholic can read and appreciate the book’s advice and daily reflections, it would be understood and appreciated more fully by a Catholic reader.
According to the title, the book’s audience is women. Of course, men could read the book, but the book is written with women in mind and has advice about how to be a better, holier Catholic woman. Sr. Glavich gives advice on how to be more Mary-like and full of grace, how to be a good hostess, and how to be a good friend. Shoes and lipstick are mentioned, but the book is feminine in more ways than just those generalizations. It offers woman-centric advice, such as do your hair and nails, not out of vanity, but because your body is created in God’s image and is His temple. Martha is often mentioned as a role model, because she opens her home to Jesus, prepares her home for visitors, and treats Jesus as a special guest.
Some of my favorite reflections feature adages that showcase Sr. Glavich’s wisdom: serve God by serving others, do not judge others because you never know what burdens they are carrying, remember to write thank you notes, create a gratitude list to return to in difficult times, reward yourself with a donut, and buy yourself flowers.
I enjoyed learning more about Sr. Glavich’s life, her family, her travels, and even her first memory: attending Mass with her grandmother and crying because of the incense. She often tells humorous stories, such as responding to an ad for “free” compression socks and unknowingly joining a health club membership for $25 a month, deer eating her potted geraniums, fear of the apocalypse after watching scary movies as a child, and being called a worrywart by her first-grade teacher. Stories of her own life were a fun, relatable, and personal addition, intermixed with the lives of saints, popes, and Jesus.
I also enjoyed Sr. Glavich’s inclusion of popular culture and other famous works, such as C.S. Lewis, G.K. Chesterton, Dante’s Divine Comedy, Star Wars, West Side Story, Shel Silverstein’s book The Giving Tree, and ancient Greek mythology and stories, including the Trojan War.
Sr. Glavich is a trustworthy and patient guide for the year of reflections, offering kind advice that is never too critical, judgmental, or harsh. She offers the kind of advice a friendly aunt would, full of positivity, friendliness, and support. Sometimes she admonishes you for your bad habits, but her comments and advice are altruistic and caring. Through reading the reflections, you get a clear sense of Sr. Glavich’s personality and joy. She wrote each reflection out of love: a love of God, a love of Jesus, and a love for her readers: “If you are a mother, teacher, nurse, or beautician, you are pleased when your advice is taken. You know you have made someone happier and maybe kept them from harm.” (Jan. 24).
My only complaint of the book is that I wish certain days had more of a theme to them, such as Christmas on Dec. 25, All Soul’s Day on Nov. 2, and saints’ feast days. However, I did notice that some spring dates mentioned Easter and summer dates mentioned the sun/light and picnics. I also hope that a version for men is created, if not written by Sr. Glavich, then by a male clergyman using her outline and framework for daily reflections.
This book would make a fantastic gift for a young woman graduating high school or college, but it would be beneficial for women of any age or background: those that are single, mothers, sisters, grandmothers, or in a religious order. Any woman could benefit from Sr. Glavich’s reflections and by making their own reflections each day. They could keep a daily journal as I did, or keep the book by their bedside for a quick read before sleep.
Ultimately, Sr. Glavich’s message throughout the book is a message of positivity and faith. Her words each day are uplifting, sharing with readers that through trust in God, good deeds, and living out your faith, you have the possibility of eternal life, the forgiveness of sins, and a union with God and Jesus in Heaven after death. Her message is that of God’s love: “I have loved you with an everlasting love” (Jeremiah 31:3).
Katrina J.E. Milton is a graduate of The Catholic University of America. She lives in her native state of Illinois, where she oversees an educational program for a nonprofit organization. She previously worked as a journalist for 10 years, winning numerous awards for her writing and photography.
Vaverek, Fr. Timothy. As I Have Loved You: Rediscovering Our Salvation in Christ; Steubenville, Ohio: Emmaus Road Publishing, 2022. 231 pages.
Reviewed by Deacon Todd Burud.
At the Last Supper, Jesus turned His attention from Judas — who left to go into the night — to the other disciples, teaching them a new commandment of love. What a powerful contrast: turning from the night of self-love to the radiant light of Jesus’ self-emptying love! He also revealed Himself as the source of that love: “As I have loved you . . . love one another” (Jn 13:34). When we love as Jesus loves, we love with His love. And the “radiance of His love scatters the gloom of our hearts.” (Divine Office)
But sadly, when we separate ourselves from Jesus’ love, our heart will darken too. Fr. Timothy Vaverek senses that separation unfolding now — in both our culture and in our souls. So, he wrote his book, As I Have Loved You: Rediscovering Our Salvation in Christ, to help revive hearts and redirect souls to their true identity as children of God.
Jesus’ phrase, “as I have loved you,” is the book’s measuring stick, helping Vaverek to diagnose how our secular culture gradual separates hearts from God’s Eternal Covenant — the nuptial, indwelling union with Jesus Christ, lived now and into eternity.
In separation, we become “autonomous individuals who by their own power, created their own identity, meaning, and goal.” In response, Vaverek reminds us of the opposite truth. “[We] are divinely created persons whose identity and purpose are fulfilled in relationships with the Trinity, others, and the world . . . [in] a covenantal life with Christ in His Church.”
God made us for “right relationships,” framed by the Trinity’s threefold “ordering principles” of generosity, wisdom, and love.” Vaverek scatters those principles throughout the book, reminding us that everything is made to exist in relation to God.
If we disregard or reject those ordering principles, then “the cosmos would lose coherence, continuity, purpose, and existence” in our life. Our heart grows hard and resistant to God. We prefer autonomy, creating our own reality to fill the void in our soul.
So, Vaverek urges souls to step onto the path toward conversion (metanoia): rediscover our “nuptial union with Jesus Christ in His divine life . . . the heart of the mystery of salvation.” As we walk along the path, we see Christ’s self-emptying (kenosis) on the Cross, giving new meaning to our life and to our suffering. We see how to love as He loves . . . and with His love!
Jesus’ Cross leads our mind and heart far down the path to one of the most refreshing chapters of Vaverek’s book. It’s an unlikely chapter, one that many people might approach with fear and anxiety — if they approach it at all: The Last Things.
But after reading it, we no longer consign the Last Things to a box in the dark, dusty basement of our heart. Vaverek sets that box in the light for a fresh look. In so doing, the Last Things become the desire and the goal of our heart.
For example, he sheds light on distortions: the image of a God of wrath, the tenacious memory of our accumulated sins, a strictly private faith, and a culture that sees any judgment by man or God as wrong. These distortions unconsciously prompt many people to avoid thinking or talking about the Last Things. But the image is wrong; sins are forgiven; faith is both personal and in communion; and judgment is made by . . . us.
Jesus is the God of justice-in-mercy. He offers to each soul all of the grace and gifts needed for salvation when we open our heart to receive them. He is generous in forgiveness, not exacting in punishment.
God doesn’t condemn us; we condemn ourselves when we reject His offer of love and grace. Vaverek reminds us that God’s judgment is not based on “the ‘sum total’ of our actions,” but on the truth of who “we become in life . . . how we stand in relation to God, others, and the world” at life’s end.
In that light, the Last Things now hold promise and hope, anticipating the perfection of “our nuptial relationship with Him in Christ and the Church.” The beauty of God’s mercy and love intensify, giving each day deeper meaning.
Vaverek wrote a concise but panoramic view of our salvation — exactly what we need in our secular age. He describes his book as more reflective than academic. But I would also describe it as a primer, preparing us for the spiritual life. It rallies us to God’s universal call to the soul.
God calls us to become a child of God, living the divine life with Jesus in an intimate relationship — loving Him and others with His own love. When we form a right relationship with Jesus, we will enjoy right relations with others too. In this book, hear the echo of God’s call to rediscover our salvation in Christ. Then, answer it directly, in prayer and Adoration.
Deacon Todd Burud serves in the Diocese of Madison, Wisconsin. He and his wife are converts to Catholicism, almost 50 years ago, and have six children and 11 grandchildren.
Homer. Translated by Emily Wilson. The Odyssey. New York: W. W. Norton & Company, 2018. 592 pages.
Reviewed by Rev. John Cush.
There are certain humiliations in academic life that, with enough time and distance, become strangely charming. One of mine goes back to my undergraduate seminary days in the 1990s at St. John’s University, where I studied Virgil’s The Aeneid in Latin. Like many overly confident seminarians convinced we had discovered a clever shortcut around hard intellectual work, I would memorize long stretches of the English translation instead of actually translating the Latin itself. Unfortunately for me, our professor was far more perceptive than I was. He had a habit of deliberately skipping lines during class exercises to expose precisely those students who were simply parroting memorized English. I was caught more than once. It was a useful lesson, and one that has stayed with me ever since: great literature resists shortcuts.
That memory returned to me recently while reading the translations of Homer by Emily Wilson. Her translation of The Odyssey (New York: W. W. Norton & Company, 2017; ISBN 978-0393089059) and her later translation of The Iliad (New York: W. W. Norton & Company, 2023; ISBN 978-1324001805) are serious literary accomplishments. At a moment when renewed popular interest in Homer seems to be everywhere — especially with the release of Christopher Nolan’s highly anticipated film adaptation of The Odyssey this past summer — Wilson’s work has become, for many readers, the gateway into the ancient world.
That, by itself, is no small thing. Wilson deserves genuine praise for attempting something many classicists struggle to do: she writes for actual human beings rather than for an academic guild. Her Homer is clear, energetic, readable, and often genuinely gripping. One understands immediately why younger readers and first-time readers of Homer have embraced these translations. She strips away much of the heavy Victorian stiffness that burdened earlier versions and reminds us that these poems were once living stories meant to be heard aloud, recited, argued over, and loved.
Indeed, one of the great strengths of Wilson’s translations is their narrative movement. She understands rhythm. She understands pacing. She recognizes that Homer is not merely a museum piece to be admired from a distance but a storyteller who wants to carry the reader forward. Too many translators confuse obscurity with fidelity. Wilson wisely avoids that trap.
And yet — and here one has to speak honestly —there are moments when accessibility comes at a cost. Homer’s grandeur occasionally feels diminished by Wilson’s preference for modern clarity and conversational directness. The ancient world should not always sound entirely contemporary, because it is not contemporary. Every translator faces the danger not simply of mistranslating a text, but of domesticating it — making the ancient world so familiar to modern readers that its strangeness, severity, and epic scale begin to fade.
Wilson sometimes edges close to that line. Her style can feel intentionally restrained, almost cautious about sounding elevated. One understands why. Many older translations inflated Homer into something overly ornate and pseudo-Shakespearean. Wilson reacts against that tendency with leaner diction and simpler syntax. But Homer is not merely simple. He is ceremonial. He is repetitive in the almost liturgical sense of the word, with recurring epithets and formulas that build rhythm and grandeur through repetition. At times, some of that solemnity and weight seem softened in Wilson’s pursuit of immediacy.
There is also the unavoidable reality that these translations emerge from a particular cultural moment, one deeply attentive to questions of gender, power, and social structures. At her best, Wilson uses this awareness to illuminate aspects of Homer that earlier translators sometimes softened or overlooked, especially regarding slavery, violence, and the treatment of women. Yet there are moments when the interpretive lens becomes slightly too visible, as though the translation occasionally wishes not only to present Homer, but also to revise the tradition surrounding him. Still, even where one disagrees with some of her choices, Wilson accomplishes something important: she forces readers to encounter these texts anew. That is the sign of a serious translator.
And perhaps that is precisely why her work matters right now. We live in an age increasingly uncertain about the value of the classics and suspicious of the Western canon altogether. Wilson has managed to convince a new generation that Homer is still alive, still worth wrestling with, still capable of speaking to us. One does not have to agree with every translational decision to admire that achievement.
As someone who once tried to survive Virgil through memorization tricks instead of genuine engagement, I find myself appreciating Wilson’s work all the more for that reason. The classics endure not because they remain frozen in one perfect translation, but because every generation must struggle with them again for itself. Wilson’s Homer will not satisfy every classicist, every traditionalist, or every lover of elevated epic diction. But she succeeds in the task that matters most: she sends readers back to Homer himself. And for that, she deserves our gratitude.
Rev. John P. Cush, S.T.D., is Professor of Dogmatic and Fundamental Theology at Saint Joseph’s Seminary and College in Yonkers, New York. He is also Editor-in-Chief of Homiletic & Pastoral Review.