John Moriarty was a man who was gloriously indefinable - a writer, philosopher, teacher, gardener, poet, mystic, ordinary man - and ultimately, and surprisingly, a missionary in the tradition of the early Irish monks. He was a missionary for a newly-imagined Christianity, one that might go back to its roots to include Taoists, Hindus, Jews, Muslims, atheists, scientists, plants and animals, the Earth, the stars and the galaxies. This Christianity could heal what he called ‘the bog sadness’ of the world; it could enable us to ‘walk beautifully on the earth’ and to be content with the Paradise that can be known in the here-and-now. This Christianity would help to grow and nourish a sense of soul. ‘What is wrong,’ he asked, ‘about emerging into a sense of wonder?’ Moriarty’s work can be daunting; McGillicuddy’s book is an attempt to provide a key - to open the door into his genius, ensuring that his legacy will not be lost