The Dark Night of St. John of the Cross: Four Centuries Later

Steven Payne, O.C.D.

Father Steven Payne, O.C.D., is editor of Spiritual Life and teaches spirituality and philosophy part-time at De Sales School of Theology. The following article was pub- lished in a March 1990 anniversary volume of the De Sales School of Theology. His address is Discalced Carmelite Friars; 2131 Lincoln Road NE; Washington, D.C. 20002- ! 199.

Like it or not, it seems clear that among the major prose treatises com- posed by John of the Cross, the Ascent/Dark Night is the one most fre- quently read and quoted; just as clearly, "the best known feature of St. John’s mystical writings is his description of the dark night of the soul" ~ in this same text. One often finds passing references to "the ~lark night" in the.works of modern theologians who otherwise show little interest in pursuing the details of John’s teaching. Thus in Christ: The Experi- ence of Jesus as Lord, Schillebeeckx characterizes the use of Psalm 22 in the New Testament passion narrative as: ¯ . . an expression of what the mystical tradition calls ’the dark night of faith’ (St. John of the Cross), in which the true believer who trusts in God knows that he is still held in God’s hand, even though there is no help that he can touch or feel, and in utmost emptiness will not let go of this hand.2

Likewise, in his book Religion in the Secular Cit~, Harvey Cox addresses American fundamentalists concerned about the erosion of institutional- ized Christian values, and suggests that John’s "theology of the dark night" could provide the basis for a more constructive approach to the current situation, seeing it as an opportunity for faith.3 891 Review for Religious, November-December 1990

Over the years, interpretations of the Sanjuanist "noche oscura’" im- age have ranged from Leibnizian to Buddhist; it has been compared to Descartes’ doubt, Hegel’s "negation of negation," Nietzche’s nihilism, and Heidegger’s "Das Nichts."4 Anti-war activists of the late sixties and early seventies turned to "the dark night" as a favorite metaphor for their own experiences; see, for instance, Daniel Berrigan’s The Dark Night of Resistance, or Sandy Vogelgesang’s The Long Dark Night of the Soul: The American Intellectual Left and the Vietnam War.5 In fact, the very expression "dark night" has achieved such currency in our lan- guage that it is often used without any clear recognition of its origins. Consider, for example, F. Scott Fitzgerald’s famous reference in "The Crack Up" to "the real dark night of the soul," where "it is always three o’clock in the morning, day after day" or Tom Wolfe’s descrip- tion of the astronauts’ "post-orbital remorse" as "the dark night of the ego." or a work of literary criticism entitled The Dark Night of the Body: D.H. Lawrence’s "The Phoned Serpent."6 Recently I have even come across a number of dime-store novels and gothic romances bearing some variant of "the dark night" in their titles. In short, the phrase "dark night" has become an extremely vague expression, applied today almost indescriminately to any dark, painful, or negative experience. It is worth remembering, too, that even John him- self does not use the phrase in a univocal way; he speaks not only of the "dark nights" of sense and spirit in their active and passive dimensions, but also of the "dark night" of sensory mortification, of the intellect, memory, and will, of faith (with hope and love), of contemplation, and even of God, for God, he says, "is also a dark night to man in this life" (Ascent I, 2, i).7 Consequently, it would be foolhardy to pretend to iden- tify and discuss the contemporary significance of the Noche Oscura or its theme within the scope of one short article, nor will I attempt to do so. Instead, I simply want to raise a few brief questions about some cur- rent approaches to The Dark Night and how they might help or hinder a proper appreciation of John’s text today, four centuries after his death in 1591. My first question may seem fairly abstruse but has, I think, impor- tant implications. It concerns the customary classification of John as an "apophatic" mystic largely on the basis of the Ascent/Night, a judgment reaffirmed preemptorily by Urban Holmes in his Histot3, of Christian Spirituality, and more carefully by Harvey Egan and others.8 According to this schema, John is to be grouped with Pseudo-Dionysius, Gregory of Nyssa, the author of the Cloud, Thomas Merton, and other proponents The Dark Night of St. John of the Cross / 893 of "the via negativa, the apophatic way, which stresses that because God is... radically different from every creature, God is best known by negation, elimination, forgetting, unknowing, without images and sym- bols, and in darkness"; at the same time, John’s mystical teaching is to be contrasted with that of Gregory the Great, Teresa of Jesus, Ignatius Loyola, Teilhard de Chardin, and other advocates of the via affirmativa, "which underscores finding God in all things," and "emphasizes a defi- nite similarity between God and creatures, that God can be reached by creatures, images, and symbols, because he has manifested himself in creation and salvation history."9 Not surprisingly, commentators who adopt this "apophatic/kataphatic" schema often just take it for granted that John’s image of the "dark night" is ultimately derived from Denys the Areopagite. ~0 Now it would be foolish to deny that this twofold division of mysti- cal authors is valuable and illuminating as far as it goes. Nevertheless, it does seem to me that commentators less cautious than Harvey Egan in wielding these categories frequently end up overstressing John’s simi- larities with other authors deemed apophatic, and overlooking his affini- ties with representatives of the kataphatic tradition. Surely it is signifi- cant that John cites Pseudo:Dionysius explicitly only four times, only twice in the Ascent/Night, and in each instance only to identify the source of the expression "ray of darkness." Surely it is significant that there are more frequent references to Gregory the Great, and that major sec- tions of the Dark Night treatise show both a theological and verbal depend- ence on.Gregory’s Moralia in Job. ~ Yet John’s debt to Gregory has sel- dom been studied or even noted, perhaps because the ~atter is classed as a "kataphatic" mystic, and thus of the "other" tradition. Similarly, countless articles, dissertations, lectures, and retreat con- ferences in recent years have emphasized the "remarkable affinity" be- tween the Ascent/Night and the Cloud of Unknowing, with "the English author being spoken of as a St. John of the Cross two centuries before his time." ~2 William Johnston’s popular edition of the Cloud has further encouraged this comparison by providing an appendix of cross-references to John’s works. Yet only rarely is any comparable attention given to an- other Englishman, the "kataphatic" Walter Hilton, who actually uses the "dark night" imagery, and whose Scale of Perfection John is per- haps more likely to have read, since the text was translated into Latin by the Carmelite Thomas Fysshlake, and circulated widely on the conti- nent. ~3 To be sure, there/certainly are important similarities between the Cloud and the Night. My objection is only to any facile harmonization 894 / Review for Religious, November-December 1990 of the two works. Is it clear, for example, that the Spanish mystical doc- tor who advocates purifying both intellect and will of their natural ob- jects would have agreed with the author of the Cloud that God is incom- prehensible only, to the intellect, but not to love, through which God can be "fully grasped"?~’~ This tendency to lump together all "apophatic" mystics in an un- differentiated way as if they all taught "the same thing," may also be related to another common misperception of John’s mysticism as essen- tially non-cognitive, anti-intellectual, or voluntaristic. Those disen- chanted with the results of scientific and technological reason, as well as philosophers and theologians who favor an emotivist or non-objecti- fying interpretation of religious language, often cite John in support of their positions. In his controversial book, Taking Leave of God, for ex- ample, Don Cupitt says the following: I have more than once set philosophy of religion students to study The Ascent of Mount Carmel and The Dark Night of the Soul. ’After all,’ I say, ’you want to know about God, and St. John of the Cross is the best. Admittedly, he is not a philosopher but a mystic. Nevertheless, if a man can know God, John did. Let’s look at him.’ Back come the stu- dents, irritable and disappointed: ’There’s nothing there,’ they com- plain. ’That’s it!’, I say, ’That’s’it!’ John of the Cross is a voluntarist. His teaching, as it should be, re- ally is spiritual direction and not divine description. As for the love po- ems, they really are poems, lyric expressions of the religious ardor which keeps one tramping on the purgative way, and not descriptions of an altogether different scheme of things which comes into effect af- ter the purgative way is over and done with. What then of objectivity? There are various as-ifs in the religious life. It is as if faith is objectively oriented toward an unknowable tran- scendent. It is often as if in the spiritual life we have dealings with a personal God. And there are many more such as-ifs, but they are all mere adjuncts to faith, not independent powers. Only faith can save, and faith is an affair of the will . . . ~5

In response to such assertions, I think it must be stressed that, for John, faith pertains primarily to the intellect, not the will; that for all his talk of faith’s obscurity and its role in depriving the soul of knowledge, John also insists that faith, like contemplation, "darkens only to give light" (see Night II, 9, i; Ascent II, 3, i-iv); and that John characteristically de- scribes mystical union in terms of God’s direct action on the passive in- tellect, analogous to the way in which natural concepts "inform" the The Dark Night of Saint John of the Cross

mind (see Ascent II, 32, iv; Night II, 13, iii; Canticle 14 and 15, x~v-xv; 39, xii). In short, for John of the Cross mystical experience definitely has a cognitive component, involving not the rejection but the illumina- tion of traditional Christian truth claims. Whatever else we may say of The Dark Nigh~t, this treatise offers no brief for religious emotionalism, romantic irrationalism, or the rejection of dogma and creed in favor of some content-less "pure faith." John, who in this respect might be placed alongside the modern "masters of suspicion" (Freud, Marx, and Nietzsche), is equally prepared to "unmask" not only our concepts and images of God, but also our spontaneous natural feelings, desires, and emotions about the divine. My second question about The Dark Night arises directly out of my personal experience, but has, I think, some theoretical ramifications. In my admittedly limited background as spiritual director, I have frequently encountered individuals who exhibit all of the classic signs of John’s "passive nights," yet who do not feel that the Noche Oscura really de- scribes their situation, and derive little insight from reading the text. Often this goes beyond problems with the sixteenth-century vocabulary and style, or the uneasy sense that the soul John describes is already ho- lier than it feels itself to be. Rather, it generally has to do with the fact that its own spiritual journey seems to have followed a different course than the ideal Sanjuanist pattern of ever-deepening commitment to the Church and the Christian faith. Today many who come for guidance are returning to prayer after a long period of rebellion against their admit- tedly devout upbringing. Or perhaps, after years of merely nominal Church membership, they had a "conversion experience," became in- volved in the charismatic movement, but now find themselves inclined toward a less demonstrative style of prayer. Or perhaps the cozy faith of their childhood has recently been shaken by some intense, disorient- ing encounter with evil and suffering. In any case, what I find striking is that many are disturbed, not by the impression that God has rejected them, but by the feeling that God, faith, and prayer may all be illusory. In trying to understand why this should be the case, I have found help in an intriguing passage from the spiritual letters of Dora John Chapman: ¯ . . in the seventeenth-eighteenth centuries most pious souls seem to have gone through a period in which they felt sure that God had repro- bated them .... This doesn’t seem to happen nowadays. But the corresponding trial of our contemporaries seems to be the feeling of not having any faith; not temptations against any particular at- 896 / Review for Religious, November-December 1990

ticle (usually), but a mere feeling that religion is not true .... The only remedy is to despise the whole thing, and pay no attention to it-~except (of course) to assure our Lord that one is ready to suffer from it as long as he wishes, which seems an absurd paradox to say to a Person one doesn’t believe in! But then, that is the trial. Faith is really particularly strong all the time. 16

These remarks suggest one possible reason why the same "passive nights" described by John might be experienced differently today. The divine-human relationship in this life seems inherently unstable, insofar as it is always mediated from the human side by finite concepts of our- selves and God which inevitably fall short of the reality they signify. When our working image of the relationship comes to grief on the events of daily life, either of its two poles may be thrown into question. In the Christian kingdom of sixteenth-century Spain it was hardly possible to doubt the reality of God, so that the anguish of the "dark night" was experienced primarily as a threat to one’s own self-esteem, sense of worth, and so forth. In the anthropocentric twentieth century, however, the same "impasse" or crisis point may be experienced primarily as a challenge to belief in a loving Lord; we discover, painfully, that the de- ity we believed in when we started out on the road of prayer quite liter- ally does not exist, and that Divine reality (whatever it may be) tran- scends all we had imagined. ~7 When John’s account of the sufferings of the "passive nights" is transposed into this modern key, it seems to ac- cord much more closely with the experience of many people today. This brings me to my final question: How much should be included under the concept of "dark night"? I have already warned against us- ing the expression too loosely, so that every negative or painful experi- ence becomes a "noche oscura." This would empty the phrase of any definite meaning, and in any case departs radically from Sanjuanist teach- ing, which distinguishes the "passive nights of sense and spirit" from experiences of impasse brought on primarily by transitory weaknesses, laziness, or sin (see Ascent II, 13, ii-vi; Night I, 9, i-ix). On the other hand, it would be just as misguided to bind ourselves too closely to the letter of the Noche Oscura, or to treat the passive nights almost as if they were purely spiritual and interior ordeals arbitrarily im- posed by God on a few chosen souls hidden away in cloisters. This was the mistake of many scholastic manuals of spiritual theology, which thus left The Dark Night a closed book to ordinary Christians. It is always worth recalling that John’s own "passive nights" were intimately linked with the concrete physical and emotional torments of his nine months in- The Dark Night of St. John of the Cross / 897 carceration in Toledo (which included darkness, frostbite, fever, hunger, lice, dysentery, feelings of abandonment, fear of poisoning, threats against his life), and that John drew upon this concrete experience in seek- ing to describe the spiritual anguish of "the passive night of spirit"; thus he compares the soul in this state to "one who is imprisoned in a dark dungeon, bound hand and foot, and able to neither move, nor see, nor feel any favor from heaven or earth" (Night II, 7, iii). ~8 It seems to me, in short, that for most Christians today the "passive nights" described by John in the Noche Oscura are experienced, not within the security of a traditional monastic cell, but more often in "suf- fering for a cause," or in the purification of one’s ministerial commit- ments through failure and disillusionment, or even in "the quiet mar- tyrdom of everyday life." Here the authors associated with the theology of hope, and political and liberation theology, may have a valuable con- tribution to offer. Thu~ Moltmann asserts that "the place of mystical ex- perience is in very truth the cell--the prison cell."19 As he writes: In prison, the person who is persecuted for righteousness’ sake is stripped of everything he loves. He is cut off from all human relation- ships. Celibacy is forced upon him. Under torture, his nakedness is laid bare and he is subjected to physical mortifications. He loses his name and becomes a number. His spiritual identity is destroyed by drugs. In the silent cell he falls into the dark night of the soul.~-°

Similarly, in We Drink From Our Own Wells, when Gutierrez seeks to explain the pain and solitude which follows inevitably from a concrete "option for the poor," he turns instinctively to the "Noche Oscura" poem and its commentaries for illumination and guidance.~-t Or again, Galilea and others.speak movingly of the crisis in discipleship which oc- curs when our first fervor passes, in terms reminiscent of John’s teach- ing in. the Dark Night. Like the apostles we became disciples "abandoning our boats and nets" and in some cases even families. It seemed to us the height of generos- ity. Everything contributed to this idea of discipleship; it was attractive and seemed so realizable .... With time, everything gradually changed .... The evangelical val- ues upon which our conversion was based begin to lose their meaning and the emotional attraction they once had for us. We feel the presence of Christ in our lives and especially in our prayers less and less; instead we feel a dryness, a loneliness, a darkness that takes us farther and far- ther from the face of the Lord .... Our apostolic and social commitments lose all their novekty; they be- Review for Religious, November-December 1990

come routine .... Human nature looks the same to us everywhere. We are unimportant if not useless .... There is a desire to ’settle down,’ to do only what is indispensable, without searching, without changing, without creativity .... We now begin to resent our first impulse toward charity and the serv- ice of others .... It is precisely this crisis of Christian discipleship, dramatic and sub- tle, that prepares us for and leads us to a more mature and decisive con- version.22

Surely these kinds of experience are part of the "passive purification" with which St. John of the Cross is concerned in the Dark Night. ¯ To sum up, then, it may be ultimately impossible to provide a sharp definition of the "passive nights of sense and spirit." Nevertheless, I would be willing to defend the following claims. On the one hand, not every experience of unsought pain and obscurity counts as a "noche os- cura." Hitler, for example, surely "suffered for a cause" and experi- enced "impasse," yet these setbacks presumably did not involve the requisite purifying activity of the theological virtues. We must carefully avoid any possible "mystification" or justifying of suffering for its own sake. Yet, on the other hand, many (perhaps most or all) negative expe- riences have the potential to become elements in, or concrete incarna- tions of, the "passive nights," when they are confronted in faith, hope, and love. Indeed, these nights are often mediated precisely by sufferings which seem anything but "spiritual" in the usual sense. Or so it appears to me; to say more here, though, would require a longer discussion.

NOTES ~ Encyclopedia of Philosophy, s.v. "John of the Cross, St.,’" by Ninian Smart. See also The Westminister Dictionary of Christian Spirituality, s.v. ~’John of Cross, St.," by Colin P. Thompson; Walter Stace, The Teachings of the Mystics, (New York: New American Library, Mentor Books, 1960), p. 186. In this paper all quo- tations from John are taken from The Collected Works of St. John of the Cross, trans. Kieran Kavanaugh and Otilio Rodriquez, 2d ed. (Washington, D.C.: ICS Publica- ¯ tions, 1979). -~Edward Schillebeeckx, Christ: The Experience of Jesus as Lord, trans. John Bow- den (New York: Seabury Press, Crossroad Book, 1980), p. 825. 3 Harvey Cox, Religion in the Secular City: Toward a Postmodern Theology, (New York: Simon & Schuster, 1984), p. 79: "One wonders also why the conservative critics fail to see that it is possible for people to live amid social disintegration and still be religious. Indeed there are some classical saints who believed that no one could achieve true holiness without extended periods of isolation, loneliness, dark The Dark Night of St. John of the Cross nights of the soul, and the experiencing of a certain lag of spiritual substance. One might even construct an argument, perhaps based on St. John of the Cross, that the hardness and chilliness of the modern world decried by the conservatives should elicit a deeper and more authentic spirituality than the imagined warmth of the Christian Middle Ages." ’* For a Leibnizian interpretation of the nights, see Jean Baruzi, Saint Jean de la Croix et le problOme de I’expgrience mystique, (Paris: Felix Alcan, 1924). For compari- sons with Zen Buddhism, see William Johnston, The Still Point: Reflections on Zen and Christian Mysticism (New York: Harper & Row, Perennial Library, 1971), and Jakov Mamic, S. Giovanni della Croce e Io Zen Buddhismo, (Rome: Edizioni del Teresianum, 1982). On John and Cartesian doubt, see Jacques Chevalier, "’Le r~al- isme spiritual des mystiques espangnols,’" Stromata 5 (1940), pp. 315-316. For com- parisons between the Sanjuanist "nights" and the thought of Hegel, Heidegger, and Nietzche, see George Morel, Le sens de I’Existence selon S. Jean de la Croix, 3 vols. (Paris: Aubier. 1960-1961); Idem. "Sur Nietzche et Jean de la Croix." in Actu- alitd de Jean de la Croix, ed. Lucien-Marie and Jacques Marie Petit (Tournai: De- scl~e de Brouwer, 1970), pp. 235-270; Orville Clark, "The Optics of Nothing- ness," Philosophy Today 16 (Winter. 1972). 243-253; and Michael J. Buckley, "Atheism and Contemplation," Theological Studies 40 (December, 1970), pp.. 680- 699. 5 See Daniel Berrigan, The Dark Night of Resistance (Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1971 ); and Sandy Vogelgesa~.ng, The Long Dark Night of the Soul: The American In- tellectual Left and the Vietnam War (New York: Harper & Row, 1974), which in- cludes brief comments on the popularity of this "’dark night" imagery. 6 F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Crack-oUp, with Other Uncollected Pieceus, Note-Books and Unpublished Letters, ed. Edmund Wilson (New York: New Directions, 1956), p.75; Tom Wolfe, "Post-Orbital Remorse, Part lII: The Dark Night of the Ego," Rolling Stone 15 February 1973; L.D. Clark, The Dark Night of the Body: D.H. Law- rence’s "The Plumed Serpent," (Austin, TX: University of Texas Press, 1964). 7 See also, for example, Ascent I, I, i-iv; 3, i; 4, i; 15, ii; II, 2, i-iii; 3, i-vi; 4, i; 6, i-vi; Ill, 2, xiii-xv; 16, i;Night, l, Explanation, i-ii; 8, i-ii; 12, ii; It, 5, i-ii; 12, vii; 16, x; 17, i. ~ See Urban T. Holmes, A Histoo’ of Christian Spirituality: An Analytical Introduc- tion (New York: Seabury Press, 1981), pp. 3-5, 99-102; Harvey Egan "’Christian Apophatic and Kataphatic Mysticisms." Theological Studies 39 (September, 1978), pp. 39%426; Idem, Christian Mysticism: The Future of a Tradition (New York: Pueblo Publishing Co., 1984), pp. 31-32, 165-214. 9 Egan, "Christian Apophatic and Kataphatic Mysticisms," p. 403. ~0 See, for example, The Westminster Dictionao’ of Spirituality, s.v. "’John of the Cross, St.," by Colin P. Thompson: R.A. Herrera, St. John of the Cross: Introduc- tory Studies (Madrid: Editorial de Espiritualidad, 1968), pp. 68-81. ~ See Lawrence Sullivan, "The ’Moralia’ of Pope St. Gregory the Great and its Influence on St. John of the Cross," Ephemerides Carmeliticae 27 ( 1976), pp. 453- 488; ldem, "Saint Gregory’s ’Moralia’ and Saint John of the Cross: Commentary on Job’s Chapters One and Thre~,’" Ephemerides Carmeliticae 28 (1977), PP. 59- 103; Georges Lefebvre, Pri~re Pure et PuretO de Coeur: Textes de Saint Gr~goire le Grand et Saint Jean de la Croix (Paris: Descl~e de Brouwer, 1953). The four ex- plicit citations of Pseudo-Dionysius are found in Ascent II, 8, vi; Night It, 5, iii; Can- 900 / Review for Religious, November-December 1990

title 14 & 15, xvi: and Flame 3, xlix. The five citations of Gregory are found in Ascent ll, 24, i; Ill, 31, viii; Night II, 20, iv; Flame 2, iii; and III, xxiii, though none of these is directly to the Moraliu. ~2 William Johnston, "Introduction" to The Cloud of Unknowing and the Book of Privv Counseling, newly edited with an Introduction by William Johnston (Garden City, NY: Doubleday & Company, Image Books, 1973), p. 30. ~3 See Walter Hilton, The Stairway of Petfection, translated with an introduction by M.L. del Mastro (Garden City, NY: Doubleday and Company, Image Books, 1979) Bk. II, ch. 24: New Catholic Encyclopedia, s.v. "Hilton, Walter," by James l. Walsh, and Sullivan. "’Saint Gregot3"s ’Moralia’ and Saint John of the Cross," pp. 93-94. For an interesting comparison of John with Hilton and the Cloud, see Tre- thowan’s introduction in Walter Hilton, The Scale of Perfection, translated by Leo Sherley-Price, with a new Introduction by Dom llltyd Trethowan, new abridged edi- tion (St. Meinrad, IN: Abbey Press, 1975), pp. 16-24. See also Andrew Louth, The Origins of the Christian Mystical Tradition (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1981 ), ch. 9. ~4 See The Cloud of Unknowing, chaps. 4 and 6, for example. I am not here arguing that the author of the Cloud is a voluntarist who sees mystical union as non- cognitive, but only insisting that John is not. Perhaps when read carefully the Cloud does allow more room for "’knowledge" of God than is usually supposed from a superficial reading of the text. ~5 Don Cupitt, Taking Leave of God (New York: Crossroad, 1981), p. 139. Com- pare R.J. Zwi Werblowsky, "On the Mystical Rejection of Mystical Illuminations: A note on St. John of the Cross," Religious Studies I (1966): 177-184. ~6 Dora John Chapman, Spiritual l~,tters (London: Sheed & Ward, New Ark Library, 1959), pp. 47-48. Chapman is, of course, also responsible for another famous com- ment on John: "The Abbot says St. John of the Cross is like a sponge full of Chris- tianity. You can squeeze it all out, and the full mystical theory remains. Conse- quently, for fifteen years or so I hated St. John of the Cross, and called him a Bud- dhist .... Then I found I had wasted fifteen years, so far as prayer was concerned!" (p. 269). ~7 See my article, "To Ask God the Right Questions," Spiritual Life 25 (1979), pp. 204-214. ~8 Ibid, pp. 207 and 213 n. II. t9 Jiirgen Moltmann, "The Theology of Mystical Experience," in Experiences of God (Philadelphia, PA: Fortress Press, 1980), p. 72. 2o Ibid. 2~Gustavo Gutierrez, We Drink From Our Own Wells: The Spiritual Journey of a Peo- ple (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 1984), pp. 83-89. 22 Segundo Galilea~ Following Jesus (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 1981), pp. 7-9. See also Thomas H. Green, Darkness in the Marketplace: The Christian At Prayer in the World (Notre Dame, IN: Ave Maria Press, 1981).