Book Reviews – June 2025

Jesus and Divine Christology. By Brant Pitre. Reviewed by Sr. Mary Micaela Hoffmann, RSM. (skip to review)

The Martyrs of the New Millennium: The Global Persecution of Christians in the Twenty-First Century. By Robert Royal. Reviewed by Ted Hirt. (skip to review)

Custos: Total Consecration through St. Joseph: The 33-Day Preparation for Fullness of Divine Sonship and Spiritual Fatherhood. By Devin Schadt. Reviewed by John M. Grondelski. (skip to review)

Blessed Carlo Acutis: A Saint in Sneakers. By Courtney Mares. Reviewed by Katrina J.E. Milton. (skip to review)

The Mystery of Joy. By Peter Kreeft. Reviewed by Mike Schramm. (skip to review)

Jesus and Divine Christology – Brant Pitre

Pitre, Brant. Jesus and Divine Christology. Grand Rapids, MI: Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing, 2024. 408 pages.

Reviewed by Sr. Mary Micaela Hoffmann, RSM.

Brant Pitre’s latest book tackles the question of whether Jesus viewed himself as God, and whether the Gospels attribute divinity to him. The past two decades give evidence of a significant interest in the topic of Christology, including several publications in the past five years. Pitre’s bibliography contains, among others: Monotheism and Early Christology in Greco-Roman Antiquity (ed. Matthew V. Novenson, 2020); Jesus the Eternal Son: Answering Adoptionist Christology and Jesus Among the Gods: Early Christology in the Greco-Roman World (Matthew F. Bird, 2017 and 2022); and A Messianic High Christology: New Testament Variants of Second Temple Judaism (Bühner, 2021). The background of Pitre’s interest in Jesus and Divine Christology is a scholarly trend to see the Nicaean and Chalcedonian doctrines on the one Person and two natures of Christ as later developments not rooted in the historical life or teaching of Jesus. In publications focused on the “historical Jesus,” there is a corresponding “almost reflexive reluctance to explore the question of whether the historical Jesus ever claimed to be anything more than merely human” (2). Pitre avers, in contrast, that Jesus was considered divine by the earliest Christians, including Paul and the Evangelists (8–9). Thus, there is warrant for reconsidering what Jesus communicated about himself during his lifetime.

Four additional factors contribute to Pitre’s justification for reconsidering Jesus’ own Christology, which he considers in Chapter 1. Three are grounded in studies of the Second Temple period or Greco-Roman sources, and suggest that a claim to some sort of divinity would not have been incomprehensible to first-century audiences (21–23). First, messianic hopes in some early Jewish writings attributed divine or superhuman traits to a messiah figure (13). Second, there is evidence that Jesus attributed the role of messiah to himself (15–16). Third, Pitre identifies texts in which Greco-Roman political rulers attribute divine status to themselves. Separately, Pitre also takes issue with the contention that the Synoptic Gospels do not contain a “high” Christology (16–20).

In Chapters 2–5, Pitre analyzes texts that give evidence of Jesus’ divine identity. Pitre employs a “triple-context” method for considering the historical plausibility of these passages, which he draws from the work of E.P. Sanders. The three criteria are: 1) context within first-century Judaism, 2) coherence with other evidence about Jesus, and 3) consequences in the early church (26–27). Regarding the latter, Pitre argues that it is reasonable that beliefs and practices found in the primitive Christian community had roots in the life and teaching of Jesus (30, 33–34). Having established his methodology, Pitre proposes four sets of texts which suggest that Jesus himself was the source of “early high Christology” (39): epiphany miracles (Chapter 2), riddles about Jesus’ divinity (Chapter 3), the apocalyptic secret (Chapter 4), and the likelihood that Jesus was crucified for blasphemy (Chapter 5).

Within the background of Jewish and Greco-Roman culture, certain types of extraordinary deeds would have been considered manifestations, or “epiphanies,” of divine power and divinity (43–44). Chapter Two focuses on miracles that particularly evoke the conclusion that Jesus is not only a heavenly being, but even “in some sense equal with the one God of Israel” (45). These are the stilling of the storm, Jesus’ walking on the sea, and the transfiguration. For each of these examples, Pitre considers the basic content of the texts, connections to the Old Testament (OT) and wider Jewish literature, and the most likely Christological implications of the texts. For example, the episode of Jesus walking on the sea suggests that Jesus exercises an extraordinary power over the sea and the waves (Mt 8:23–27; Mk 4:35–41; Lk 8:22–25). It recalls Job 9:8–10, which emphasizes that God is the one who “walks on the sea as on dry ground” (Septuagint version). Further, Jesus identifies himself with the phrase, “I am” or “egō eimi,” which is strongly associated with divinity (see Exod 3:14–15, Is 43:1, 10; 44:2; 45:25). Pitre concludes there is good reason to regard this account as a theophany, or manifestation of a divine presence (66–76).

Pitre next evaluates the historical plausibility of Jesus’ walking on the sea. He observes that it is insufficient to view these episodes as legendary simply because they include a supernatural element. That would be a prior philosophical judgment, not rooted in examination of actual evidence, nor in accord with the likely beliefs of first-century Jews (45–46). In this case, walking over the sea is a boast attributed to Antiochus IV Epiphanes, who, according to 2 Maccabees 5:21 arrogantly — and unreasonably — thought that he could “sail on the land and walk on the sea” (81). Thus, an assertion of divine power over the waters would not have been incomprehensible to a first-century audience (83). For each passage considered, Pitre argues that the “triple context” criteria for authenticity indicates it is more likely that the substance of these stories originated in the life of Jesus than not.

Chapter Three uses an identical procedure to evaluate three “riddle-like” teachings of Jesus: the necessity to love Jesus more than one’s father and mother; the response to the rich man that “no one but God is good”; and the riddle of why David called the messiah his “Lord.” In the first case, Jesus implicitly categorizes himself as being more important than parents, a role that only God had in the OT and subsequent Jewish interpretations (117). The second pericope is particularly interesting because it is often used as an argument against the divinity of Jesus (134–135). However, Pitre maintains that Jesus intends to make his audience ponder whether he possesses goodness equal to God. Jesus’ words evaluating the Ten Commandments and adding to them the instruction to follow Jesus give further evidence that he is ascribing to himself a divine prerogative (135–137). Pitre again presents arguments in favor of historical plausibility for each of the passages in this chapter.

Chapter Four is devoted to texts in which Jesus is presented as an apocalyptic and messianic figure. Pitre focuses on “the heavenly dimension of Jesus’ apocalyptic worldview” (172). He argues that Jesus considered his divinity as a heavenly mystery, and he intended to reveal this “apocalyptic secret” to his disciples. The texts considered are 1) the healing of the paralytic (Mt 9:2–7; Mk 2:1–2; Lk 5:17–26), which includes a claim to forgive sins, the charge of blasphemy from some of the scribes, and a reference to the “son of man”; 2) John the Baptist’s question of whether Jesus is the one who is to come (Mt 11:2–6; Lk 7:18–23); and 3) the Son’s revelation of the Father proclaimed by Jesus (Mt 11:25–27; Lk 10:21–22). The latter text is often considered a later addition to the Synoptic Gospels under the influence of Johannine thought, but Pitre makes the case that it is in fact coherent with other texts in the Synoptics (238–241).

Chapter Five addresses the charge for which Jesus was crucified. Pitre contends that the Sanhedrin charged Jesus with blasphemy for claiming to be God (304–307). Jesus’ self-identification as the “Son of Man” and references to “coming on the clouds” (see Mt 26:64; Mk 14:62) evoke both Psalm 110 and Daniel 7, both of which were interpreted as referring to divine royal figures (301–304).

Pitre concludes with implications of his study. First, he asserts, it is “a misleading oversimplification” to state that Jesus did not declare himself to be God (329). Furthermore, granting Jesus’ own divine self-identification could impact current scholarly debates in three areas. It gives a reasonable source for the emergence of an “early divine Christology” (331–333). Second, it gives motives for an early separation between adherents to Christianity and Jews who viewed Christian claims as blasphemous (336–339). Third, it allows interpreters to see a clear trajectory from the life of Jesus to the doctrinal formulations of Nicaea, a claim to continuity which often troubles critical scholars (342–351).

Strengths of this book include above all the effort to reintroduce into academic dialogue the possibility that Jesus saw himself as divine, as well as the substantive arguments that the Synoptic Gospels have a high Christology. Likewise, readers will benefit from the overall conclusions of the study. Readers may also find the summaries of secondary literature helpful for familiarizing themselves with current debates. Criticisms of the book include that, while clear, its methodology and arguments can be repetitive. In addition, some arguments seem stronger than others; in fact, Pitre himself notes that readers may disagree with his evaluation of some episodes (239). For example, I found the earlier chapters on the epiphany miracles and riddles of Jesus’ identity more persuasive, while the treatment of the charge of blasphemy left me with further questions about the interaction of political and religious motives within Jesus’ arrest and condemnation. Overall, this is a welcome contribution to current biblical Christology that will benefit both academic audiences and informed Catholics seeking to deepen their knowledge of the bible and its relation to key Christian doctrines. 

Sr. Mary Micaela Hoffmann, RSM is a member of the Religious Sisters of Mercy of Alma, MI. She holds an M.A. in theology from Ave Maria University and a License in Sacred Scripture from the Pontifical Biblical Institute.

The Martyrs of the New Millennium – Robert Royal

Royal, Robert. The Martyrs of the New Millennium: The Global Persecution of Christians in the Twenty-First Century. Manchester, NH: Sophia Institute Press, 2025. 280 pages.

Reviewed by Ted Hirt.

Regrettably, probably few Americans, including Roman Catholics, are aware of the magnitude of the persecution inflicted on Christians in today’s world. The mainstream media only occasionally cover the terrible massacres in Nigeria, or when fundamentalist Islamists target religious services through bombings and other terrorist acts. The coverage is “spotty” at best. In The Martyrs of the New Millenium, Robert Royal remedies our deficient understanding of the plight of millions of Christians in the world.

Royal is the founder and president of the Faith & Reason Institute in Washington, D.C. and editor-in-chief of the online publication The Catholic Thing (www.thecatholicthing.org.). A writer and commentator on Church issues, his books include A Deeper Vision: The Catholic Intellectual Tradition in the 20th Century (2015), and The Catholic Martyrs of the Twentieth Century; A Comprehensive World History (2000). This book focuses primarily “on the continuing saga of religious persecution and death” in the first quarter of this century. Royal brings to this project considerable expertise and a deep understanding of the Church.

We first should ask — what is a martyr? Royal explains that a Christian martyr “is a person who is willing primarily to die, not to kill himself or others, for the faith.” That attitude is deeply rooted in Christian history “because Jesus Himself, as Catholics believe, died to save the world.” The Acts of the Apostles thus describe St. Stephen’s martyrdom as an imitation of Christ’s Passion. The Roman Empire’s persecutions of early Christianity prompted Tertullian’s saying — “Semen est sanguinis Christianorum” (The blood of Christians is a seed), i.e., such persecutions “served only to confirm the believers in the new faith.” As Royal recounts, a complex procedure is required for the Church to formally declare a martyr (which also means a saint). Royal notes that several Popes have introduced words like “new martyrs” into our terminology. Then-Pope John Paul II declared Maximilan Kolbe, a Polish priest who sacrificed his life for another man in a Nazi death camp, to be a “martyr of charity,” a man who died on behalf of his neighbor.

Noting that some have argued that “there were more believers killed because of their Chistian faith in the twentieth century than in all previous centuries combined,” Royal devotes most of this book to a continent-by-continent description of the heroic clergy and laypeople who face persecution from governments or lawless elements within their societies. In the Middle East, Islamic militants and groups such as ISIS have killed priests and destroyed churches. Syria had been home to Christians for thousands of years, but they suffered murder and kidnapping during its 2011 civil war. In 2014, Father Frans van der Lugt, S.J., was taken from the monastery and shot twice in the head. He had declared that he would remain rather than escape danger — “When all Christians would leave, I would stay because I am here to serve all Syrians.” In Iraq, with the fall of the Saddam Hussein regime in 2003, Islamic forces attacked churches with car bombs, wounding hundreds and killing at least a dozen Christians, in what the late Pope Francis called an “ecumenism of blood.”

Africa provides vivid examples of serious persecution. Royal regrets the “unfortunate tendency among Christians and others in the West and in the international community” to view that persecution “with a certain indifference,” as if nothing can be done in countries that are emerging from “long years of colonialism and economic exploitation.” But the “injection of radical Islam” has greatly worsened the situation. This is ironic insofar as much of Christianity’s growth has been in Africa — African Christians number 750 million, about 1/3 of global Christianity.

Nigeria may represent the worst case; according to one source, in 2023, 4,998 Christians perished. In the 2019-2023 period, 33,000 Christians and several thousand moderate Muslims were killed by Islamic militants. In June 2024, female suicide bombers from Boko Haram killed eighteen people at a wedding, and later returned to blow up mourners at the victims’ funeral. Similar tragic attacks occur in the Democratic Republic of the Congo and Somalia, among other nations.

Royal recounts troubling patterns of persecution in many Asian countries, such as Pakistan and Indonesia. Not surprisingly, he devotes one chapter to the ongoing persecution of Roman Catholics in Communist China. Royal explains the uneasy relationship of the Vatican with that government, formalized in concordats, to guarantee the free practice of religion, but in the context of the regime’s control of an official church. Royal contends that the regime still represses clergy and laity, despite the Vatican’s understandings of the concordats.

Turning to Latin America, Royal reminds us that the Cuban and Nicaraguan governments continue campaigns of religious suppression. Even Mexico, although identified as 75% Catholic, has a tragic history of persecution, which continues today — the drug cartels target priests and laity. A 2022 State Department report recounted 800 incidents of extortion and threats against priests in the prior year.

Finally, Royal warns Christians in Western Europe and the United States against complacency. One 2023 report “recorded an uptick in anti-Christian hate crimes from a variety of groups.” Sources of violence radicalized Islamists and radical secular groups. In March 2024, French police foiled a plot to attack the already-damaged (by fire) Cathedral of Notre Dame in Paris. Vandalism of churches and statues has occurred in the United States on a serious scale — in 2024, the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops reported at least 360 incidents over a four-year period. Royal calls this a “staggering record of anti-Christan acts almost entirely ignore by the American media — and therefore invisible to the American public.” Thus, the threat of persecution is global in scope, that needs to be “recognized and resisted” before it becomes “an established phenomenon.”

Royal has marshaled grim statistics of persecution, a narrative alarming and depressing, but he has done a great service in making us aware of this problem.

Ted Hirt is an adjunct professor at the George Washington University Law School, an assistant editor for the James Wilson Institute’s Anchoring Truths, a former career attorney at the U.S. Justice Department, and a Gettysburg, PA Licensed Town Guide. The views he expresses are his own.

Custos: Total Consecration through St. Joseph – Devin Schadt

Schadt, Devin. Custos: Total Consecration through St. Joseph: The 33-Day Preparation for Fullness of Divine Sonship and Spiritual Fatherhood. Gastonia, NC: TAN Books, 2020. 256 pages.

Reviewed by John M. Grondelski.

If social media is any indication, today’s young women of marriageable age seem to be undergoing mood swings from “we don’t need men” to “where have all the good men gone?” The latter question is, however, deceptive, because what young men versus young women consider “good” is also at odds.

It wasn’t always that way. Not that long ago, there were social expectations of what a “good man” was as well as a desire to find one. Go back fifty years and Hollywood showcased the “strong, silent type.”

Let me suggest that describes St. Joseph. And St. Joseph provides the kind of “good man” that at least Catholic men should want to be and Catholic women want. This book offers a spiritual blueprint.

“Consecration” to a saint is more than just adopting him as a patron or an ad hoc imitation of him. It means specifically intending to model one’s life around decisive features in that of the saint.

A custos is a protector or guardian. Guardians shield their charges from evils, material and spiritual. Whatever elite modern opinion may think, that inclination is pretty much ingrained in good men. Pace feminism, it’s also something women search for, particularly when things go bad.

Consider these reflections on the need to protect one’s child from evil:

“Your child has an enemy whose goal is nothing less than the eternal destruction of his soul. . . . Childhood naivety and purity can often lure parents into believing that their children are far removed and buffered from the evils lurking and abounding in the adult realm. Yet, even before the child is born, the devil is poised to destroy him. ‘The dragon stood before the woman who was about to give birth, ready to devour the child as it was born’” (p. 122).

St. Joseph was a custos of Mary, Jesus, and now the Church. That is the overarching theme of this vision of consecration to St. Joseph. Because of that focus, it is particularly aimed at married men and those who want to be. At the same time, St. Joseph was not the physical father of Jesus, so there is emphasis here on spiritual paternity. Spiritual paternity is not at odds with physical paternity (in fact, the latter requires completion through the former) but priests who want to use this book may require some creative adaptation.

The program envisions a 33-day period of preparation for consecration. The period is divided into seven stages, by which one is called to embrace silence, one’s spouse, and one’s child, to build one’s home into a domestic church, animated by the Church’s liturgical life, and to “work for God” (not yourself, not your wife and kid, but God). It culminates in consecration to St. Joseph (coupled with sacramental Confession and Communion and recommendation to wear the scapular).

Each day’s preparation focuses on a particular feature of St. Joseph’s life to be woven into one’s own. That feature is first explained, primarily through Sacred Scripture (you can learn a lot about St. Joseph from the little the Gospels write of him). Then, a series of questions for reflection seek to link that explanation to one’s life. Finally, a prayer concludes that day’s process. The steps are intended to be cumulative.

Consecration to St. Joseph is serious business; the man undertaking it must reckon that his post-consecration life must be actively different from what came before it. Toward the end of the book is found “Thirty-Three Spiritual Practices” that should mark the consecrated man. These include a serious commitment to daily prayer (including the Rosary) and active incorporation of religion into daily family life. The latter includes things once considered as mundane as eating supper together as a family to deliberately carving out spiritual time to pray with one’s wife, bless and encourage one’s children, and participate in regular religious activity. St. Joseph may have been quiet, but he was not passive.

St. André Bessette’s motto was “go to Joseph!” That conviction enabled him as a humble porter in a religious house to touch and change so many lives in the Montréal of his times. At a time when many Catholics are looking for a deeper spiritual life, one suited to their stations in life as husband/father, one more personal than the activities of the “parish community” offers, consecration to St. Joseph may offer many the ability to touch and change lives, starting from their own, in their own circles. At the very least, this book offers grist for thinking about how to set out into the spiritually deep. Many readers will profit from it.

John M. Grondelski (Ph.D., Fordham University) was formerly associate dean of the School of Theology at Seton Hall University. He publishes regularly in the National Catholic Register, Catholic World Report, and other publications.

Blessed Carlo Acutis: A Saint in Sneakers – Courtney Mares

Mares, Courtney. Blessed Carlo Acutis: A Saint in Sneakers. San Francisco, CA: Ignatius Press, 2023. 185 pages.

Review by Katrina J.E. Milton.

Inspired after watching Carlo Acutis: Roadmap to Reality in theaters, which features this book’s author, I wanted to learn more about teenage Italian millennial Carlo Acutis’ path to sainthood.

This book is truly inspirational and a must-read for all generations. It summarizes Carlo Acutis’ life and legacy in a way that makes his story approachable, relatable, and enjoyable.

Carlo was born in 1991, the same year as the launch of the internet, to parents who were not very religious. His parents were living in England at the time, where his father worked in finance. After Carlo’s baptism, the family returned to Italy, residing in Milan and vacationing in the summer to Assisi, a town renowned for Saints Francis and Clare.

The next mention of religion in Carlo’s life is a Polish nanny named Beata, who taught Carlo how to pray the Rosary on the way to preschool and gave him prayer cards. Around the age of four, Carlo began asking his mother questions about the Catholic faith, which “forced [her] to reflect,” (22) drawing her to the Church and its Sacraments and leading her to call her son “a little savior” (23). Carlo’s love for the Church and his faith also brought about the organic conversion to Catholicism of his caretaker Rajesh and his mother. Rajesh is quoted saying how Carlo’s beliefs and actions touched his heart, for “all those experiences changed [his] life” (43).

Throughout the book, Carlo is described as a normal and average child, other than his extraordinary devotion and faith. He enjoyed watching The Simpsons and Jurassic Park, played the saxophone, taught himself how to code, and played video games. However, he limited his gaming to two hours a week as a rule. He often chose not to eat dessert and Nutella and not play video games or watch television, offering up his sacrifices for the souls in purgatory. He went to Mass daily and Confession often. He went to his high school’s chapel in the morning before classes began and stopped to pray during breaks. He donated food and sleeping bags to the homeless, defended classmates with mental disabilities that were being bullied, and he loved animals, including his pets. Carlo’s high school chaplain described him as “a happy and authentic young man and Christian” who “never concealed his choice of faith” (94).

For two and a half years, Carlo and his parents worked to create a display about Eucharistic miracles. After school and homework, Carlo spent his free time researching Eucharistic miracles and listening to classical music (60). He also put his knowledge of coding languages and technological skills to use constructively and positively by researching the lives of martyrs for the Vatican’s website, creating a webpage for his home parish, and making a PowerPoint about the volunteer activities offered at his school. His mother said that he sometimes stayed up until 3 a.m. working on those projects (95).

Carlo had difficulty understanding his peers’ actions and asked cloistered religious to pray for his schoolmates who went out to clubs to drink and do drugs. He asked his mother to return the new shoes she bought him or give them to the poor because he did not need two pairs. He fixed an old bicycle after it was stolen, rather than buying a new one. He could not understand why “people stand in long lines to see rock concerts or go to soccer games but would never think of standing in line before the Blessed Sacrament” (38).

Shortly after having a discussion with his mother about the possibility of having a vocation to the priesthood, Carlo had a red spot in the corner of his eye and a fever on October 4, 2006. A few days later, he was so weak he could not get out of bed. He was diagnosed with leukemia, and Carlo offered up his suffering to the Lord. He went into a coma on October 11 due to a brain hemorrhage caused by the leukemia, and his heart stopped the subsequent day. His death came suddenly, but he “was well-prepared for it by the way he had lived his life” (112).

Miracles in Carlo’s name began occurring at his funeral Mass: a 41-year-old woman prayed to have children and found out she was pregnant a few days later, and a woman who had breast cancer but had not yet started chemotherapy asked for Carlo’s intercession and was healed. A Eucharistic miracle occurred nine days after Carlo’s death in Mexico. A boy from Brazil who had digestive disorders and a malformed pancreas kissed a relic, a piece of Carlo’s clothes, and was miraculously healed. Carlo was beatified on October 10, 2020, and his canonization is being scheduled.

Carlo’s father said that Carlo “attracted people (including us parents) because he was really in love with God and his life was full of joy” (113). Thousands of people have been attracted by Carlo after his death, visiting his body entombed in Assisi. Carlo’s body lies on display holding a rosary and wearing jeans, a track jacket, and tennis shoes, where the book gets its title, “A Saint in Sneakers.”

What sets Carlo’s story and this book apart is how relatable they both are. The book includes eight pages of family photos in color, visually showcasing Carlo’s life: wearing a Spider-Man costume and holding his dog, skiing, making a snowman, celebrating a birthday party, and smiling with a group of friends at a soccer field. The photos are all grouped together near the end of the book, but having them interspersed and integrated throughout the book would have been helpful in showing us Carlo’s life with both words and photos.

Carlo told his parents that he believed “God creates all [people] with the potential to be saints,” (84) and this book and Carlo’s life story reminds us all that sainthood is not only obtainable, but that we are all called to sainthood. A Texas teenager described Carlo as “the first saint I’ve seen that’s had an actually normal, human, attainable way to [live an extraordinarily holy life]” (140–141). One of Carlo’s favorite quotes to say was “we are all born as originals, but many die as photocopies” (101). A monsignor involved in Carlo’s beatification said that classmates described Carlo as having “something special that made being with him attractive and captivating” (94).

Carlo’s story is original and something special, and this book captures what is described as “Carlo’s magic” (46). Quick and easy to read at only 142 pages, entertaining, and full of anecdotes and charm, I would recommend this book to anyone interested in learning more about the teenage boy who will soon be named the world’s first millennial saint. Hearing numerous testimonies about Carlo throughout the book, seasoned well with quotes from Carlo himself, you feel as if you know Carlo — or you wish you did know him — by the time you read the last page.

Having some background knowledge of Catholicism would be helpful in reading the book, because topics such as confession, beatification, a monstrance, and rites (N.B. Carlo was Ambrosian Rite, not Roman Rite) are mentioned without definition. I would particularly recommend this book for youth of all denominations, because it could be a work of ecumenism and conversion after reading about Carlo’s inspirational life.

The last chapter advises the youth to live a life like Carlo, quoting Pope Francis to use technology “to transmit the Gospel, to communicate values and beauty” (136). Gen Z have never lived in a world without the internet, and the author includes startling statistics about teenagers’ addictions to technology. The author tells us that Carlo’s example has the potential to show the younger generations “that true joy and fulfillment are found in Christ’s life-giving love and divine mercy” (140). Carlo described the Eucharist as “my highway to Heaven,” and this book is a helpful vehicle to access and traverse that highway.

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.

The Mystery of Joy – Peter Kreeft

Kreeft, Peter. The Mystery of Joy. San Francisco, CA. Ignatius Press. 2025. 241 pages.

Reviewed by Mike Schramm.

There is an axiom in podcasting that you never know which episode might be a new listener’s first, so every latest one has to have a similarly accessible charm to welcome everyone. As Peter Kreeft’s The Mystery of Joy stands as a book well into the hundreds that Kreeft has written, one must approach it as if it is the first Kreeft book they have read. Generations from now, with Dr. Kreeft’s books still in circulation, a doctoral candidate might propose the idea that Kreeft’s students compiled his lecture notes and wrote their own extant works under his name because it seems that no singular person could have been so prolific.

What makes Kreeft such a popular Catholic writer is his chameleon-like writing ability that includes high philosophical concepts that are easily presented, orthodox Catholic teaching informed by a broad reading of Saints and Doctors of the Church, poetic language and turns of phrase, fiery exhortation and practical advice. This sounds hyperbolic but until you have read virtually anything by Kreeft and not found this combination, you will have to take my word for it. The Mystery of Joy is no different. This book is a collection of 95 (I can only assume this number was purposeful) very brief reflections on the many aspects of joy.

One of Kreeft’s heroes is C.S. Lewis and this becomes obvious in both Kreeft’s references and writing style of this book. Besides the focus of joy, of which Lewis wrote a book himself, there are also the many vivid images, metaphors and references that Kreeft makes to help the reader understand. This book is not a metaphorical tour de force; rather, it is a tour de force of metaphors.

If brevity is the soul of wit, then the object of Kreeft’s many, very brief essays in the collection provide opportunities for numerous Kreeft-ian gems that regular readers will appreciate. That is what this book on joy is: a collection of one to three page chapters that reflect on specific aspects of this ever-elusive and eternally desired element of the Christian life.

Another of the many things that makes Kreeft an engaging writer is the way he is able to make connections between his main topic and the seemingly unrelated small topics. For example, he ties together joy, wisdom and love, saying, “And I think the reason we don’t have His wisdom is that we don’t have His love. For wisdom depends on love at least as much as love depends on wisdom” (93). Ultimately, Kreeft writes about the things he writes about with such wisdom because he wants his readers to love what he loves. With love as his motivation, his wisdom should not be surprising. One chapter that I found particular interesting was Kreeft’s examination of joy as an emanation of God using Aristotle’s four causes (99). This is when Kreeft is at his best, he begins with a revealed theological insight and then shows clearly and succinctly the philosophical basis for it in plain language.

Another element that stood out in this book, though one would notice it in smaller doses in Kreeft’s other books, are the many references to the comparisons and contrasts between Christianity and Buddhism. These are all in passing and usually coupled together. One wonders if Kreeft’s next project should be a more systematic treatment of this phenomenon. For many Catholics, a treatment of the similarities, while including an honest assessment of the dissimilarities, between Catholicism and Buddhism from a faithful Catholic perspective would be welcome and useful.

As I said earlier, one has to read this book as if it is the first Kreeft book one has ever read to gain the most insight and enjoyment from it. However, even within the book itself the chapters do have a tendency to get repetitive. I am fine with referring back to prevalent themes from earlier to create a sense of continuity throughout the book, but when these repetitions occurred it was as if it was being presented the first time. This actually undermined continuity as it gave the sense these were a collection of disconnected essays, tied together by just the theme of joy, but not as one continuously deepening. It sometimes appeared more like a smattering, which can work if one is reading a daily reflection where each chapter is received fresh. However, it works less as one self-contained treatment of a topic.

The most important connection Kreeft emphasizes throughout the book is that which exists between joy and love. The simplest connection between these is that true joy must come from God and God is love. Another addresses the evangelical nature of joy as that which continues to confound a joyless and Godless world. When a person’s joy comes from their love for God and, more importantly, their faith that God loves them, then nothing of this world can take that joy away. It is joy that requires no explanation because as Kreeft rightly notes, “Nothing explains love; love explains everything” (154). This book can be a useful series of reflections on how to understand, and hopefully enter into, that joy that comes from the love of Love Himself.

Mike Schramm lives in southeast MN with his wife and seven children and teaches theology and philosophy at the high school and college level in La Crosse, Wisconsin. He earned his MA in theology from St. Joseph’s College in Maine and an MA in philosophy from Holy Apostles College.