Spirit of Fire by Ursula King, Orbis, £17.99 Conversations about Pierre Teilhard de Chardin’s more exotic theories usually result in confusion. There are strange terms, such as the Omega Point, and stranger concepts to explore. This, of course, is not necessarily Teilhard’s fault: no one said theology had to be easy. It does ensure, however, that for most of us, Teilhard remains something of an enigma. Ursula King provides a partial solution. In this excellent book (newly revised) she writes with great confidence and by the end I even thought, for half a minute, that I’d conquered the Teilhardian relationship between spirit and matter. Ultimately, though, there is always the nagging feeling that only Teilhard could fully understand what he was talking about because his writings were so deeply rooted in his personal encounters (both mystical and scientific) with the universe. This all makes it difficult to reach firm decisions about two crucial issues. How seriously should we take Teilhard as a Christian thinker, and how should we judge the way in which he was treated by Church authorities? On the first issue I don’t think he could have much room for posthumous complaint. King wants more attention to be paid to Teilhard’s writings, but this is an odd request. There are countless books and articles about the man because scholars love riddles, especially the thorny ones that can sustain entire academic careers. Teilhard is an ideal subject, all the way from the fledgling doctoral thesis to the retirement party: one can almost see the Omega Point-themed cake in the faculty lounge. As for Teilhard’s bumpy ride with the hierarchy, this is trickier to assess. He managed to raise eyebrows early on and the Roman dossiers expanded over the years. He secured fierce and loyal support from many of his peers (becoming one of the most famous Jesuits on the scene). But those who had to adjudicate his more contemplative works in an official capacity were rightly cautious. On the face of things there is a poignant tale to tell: the books that went through many revisions but were still not approved for publication, the teaching posts that were denied him, the career defined, in a way, by exile. But let’s be fair to the alleged bullies in this story. Teilhard’s unique way of integrating faith and science, his attempt to transform the fundaments of theology and the frequent opacity of his thought did not make life easy for the powers-that-were. The crucial point, I suppose, is that Teilhard managed to carve out a troubled but astonishingly prolific and wide-ranging career. Everyone accepts how much he achieved in the realms of geology and palaeontology. His recasting of evolutionary theory was daring, even if we should scratch our heads when it comes to the results. He attempted to understand the entire cosmos, humanity’s significance in its evolution, and the nature of an omnipresent God. This was a lot to take on and, after too many muddled conversations, I’m fairly sure that he got many things wrong and wandered down some perilous paths. We are, however, still talking about him after all these years and no few colleagues of mine dread the prospect of their brighter students asking difficult questions about Pierre Teilhard de Chardin. A good thing or a bad thing? I simply don’t know, but I imagine that it is precisely what Teilhard intended. A reliable introduction to such a confusing figure is always welcome and King does very well. All the adventures are here: from bearing stretchers in the First World War to the productive Chinese years, with lots of excellent photos thrown in for good measure. King clearly regards Teilhard as a giant. I’m less convinced, but I find it hard to ignore the man and his passion. This article first appeared in the Catholic Herald magazine (23/10/15) Take up our special subscription offer – 12 issues currently available for just £12!