“The pope's Marines”: this popular image of the Jesuits suggests the unquestioning loyalty and top-down execution of orders characteristic of an elite corps of soldiers in relation to its commander-in-chief. John O'Malley, in this enthralling little book, deftly demonstrates that the reality is far more complex. While owing its continued existence to papal fiat, and despite its famous “fourth vow” of special obedience to the pope in matters of mission, the Society of Jesus's “partnership” (1) with the papacy in a common spiritual quest—a reciprocal relationship of mutual benefit, albeit not one between equals—had its fair share of ups and downs, including moments of tension and high drama. Oddly, given the historical prominence of both institutions, this study appears to be the first dedicated to the subject in an all-embracing manner, from Paul III at the Society's birth to Francis, the first Jesuit pope.

O'Malley calls his book a “sketch” (1), and, indeed, it comprises a brief portrayal of the highlights of a five-hundred-year-old story. He warns the reader not to derive from the tight focus the false impression that either the papacy or the Society was the dominant aspect of the other's history; the picture is only a small piece of a larger tableau. By the same token, following this story exposes the reader to a large swath of political and ecclesiastical history, particularly that of early modern Europe. The tour takes in such well-known stops as the flowering of Renaissance education, the rise of absolutist monarchs, the intellectual currents of the Enlightenment, the nineteenth-century backlash against liberalism, and the creative ferment of Vatican II. It also traverses obscure but fascinating territory, including the controversy de auxiliis concerning grace and free will, the struggle over moral probabilism, and the heartbreaking condemnation of the Chinese Rites. The papal-Jesuit relationship proves itself a useful lens through which to view a significant slice of the Catholic Church's history.

Within such a context, O'Malley suggests that “those larger histories were the force behind both the good times and the bad times the Jesuits experienced in their relationship to the popes” (117). A sketch is not a monograph, and there is no bold or innovative argument here, but the suggestion undoubtedly has merit: the Society and the papacy were both far too enmeshed in the world for their relationship not to be shaped, for better and for worse, by the issues of the day and the currents of the times. In such circumstances can be found the seeds of many of the problems the relationship faced over the centuries. Yet, according to O'Malley, “what is surprising is that the relationship has survived the problems and remained strong” (118). Perhaps an interdependence based on similar goals has developed, one which it would benefit neither to unravel.

An initial chapter helpfully sets the scene by tracing the presence of the papacy in the history of religious life, from the origins of monasticism to the rise of the mendicants to the decrees of the Council of Trent. The next chapter enters on territory well trod by O'Malley: the first Jesuits and the nature of their institute. It bears repeating here that the fourth vow did not promise personal loyalty to the pope or obedience to any whim he might express; rather, it was “a vow to be ready to travel as missionaries anywhere in the world” (15) as directed by him who exercised pastoral care on a universal scope and had “the broad vision required for the most effective deployment of such apostles” (17). Even though it proved impractical for the day-to-day running of the Society, this vow retains immense symbolic import, since it touches on the apostolic heart of the Jesuit charism.

There follow nine chapters that carry the story from the popes of Ignatius Loyola's time to the present and unprecedented Jesuit pope. O'Malley is rightly renowned for his lucid prose and vivid storytelling, and the fast-paced tales told with tintinnabulous clarity in these pages do not disappoint. The most engrossing is probably that of the gathering storm of persecution against the Jesuits in the eighteenth century, the suppression of the Society by Clement XIV in 1773, its unlikely survival in Russia, and its subsequent restoration by Pius VII in 1814. Also noteworthy is the brief, balanced account of the generalate of Pedro Arrupe, including the 1981–1983 intervention of John Paul II in the Society's ordinary government—so recent that it has seldom been discussed in print. At the close of the final chapter, O'Malley broaches the election of Francis. (Besides the two cardinals mentioned in the text, Martini and Bergoglio, some say the seventeenth-century Robert Bellarmine was also a likely Jesuit candidate for the papacy.) The book ends with a page of “Further Reading” (119), which is useful but unfortunately lacking in bibliographical information.

Given the brevity of this sketch, not every anecdote could be included, and some may regret certain colorful omissions. For example, when Ignatius wished to turn a conversation among Jesuits away from disedifying banter, he would interject, “Let us speak of Good Pope Marcellus,” the beloved reformer who died after only twenty-two days as pontiff. (The phrase is sometimes heard at Jesuit tables still today.) And when Pius VI learned that the suppressed Society was still operating in Catherine the Great's Russia, he is said to have exclaimed: “I approve, I approve, I approve” (Approbo, approbo, approbo). Nevertheless, these charming bits would have added little of substance. Fleshing out the story instead are nineteen color plates in the middle of this handsomely produced book.

The Jesuits and the Popes is important for having chosen a topic of weight, gathered a wealth of scattered information, and forged that information into a fluent, concise narrative. The result is a compelling tale, masterfully told, that entices the reader to dig deeper.