At the risk of a tremendous over-simplification, I believe it is helpful to categorize views of Christianity which have appeared in the west in the last two hundred years into three major groups. First there are the unbelievers, those for whom Christianity is straightforwardly untrue, unknowable, or unbelievable (or all three). This group would include those who try to salvage some form of essentially humanistic religion as well as those who simply turn away from religious belief altogether, either to put their ultimate hopes in political ideology, or science, or simply to attempt to limit themselves to hopes which are finite and non-ultimate in character.

There are numerous ‘solutions’ to the problem of evil, from which theists can and do freely take their pick. It is fairly clear that any attempt at a solution must involve a scaling-down of one or more of the assertions out of whose initial conflict the problem arises – either by a downward revision of what we mean by omnipotence, or omniscience, or benevolence, or by minimizing the amount or condensing the varieties of evil actually to be found in the universe. And indeed, in one or more of these different ways, the charge of logical inconsistency can no doubt always be vouchsafed at least a formal answer. Unfortunately, the mere ironing-out of formal inconsistencies does not of itself go very far towards providing a solution to this central problem of theism which will be morally, religiously, and intellectually convincing and acceptable as well as logically impeccable. Everything depends on how the inconsistencies are ironed out. For every attempt at a solution of the problem of evil has to be made at a price, in keeping with the scale and type of conceptual or ethical readjustments which it requires of us. And if the solutions which are generally offered seldom seem to carry much conviction, this is because the price they require us to pay nearly always seems far too high. A ‘solution’ to the problem of evil that is to count as a genuine solution must not require us to make any conceptual or ethical readjustments which it would not on independent grounds be entirely reasonable to make. A ‘solution’ that was finally to count as the solution of the problem of evil would presumably need to be that particular one which required us to make only those conceptual and ethical readjustments which (of all the readjustments that were open to us) were on independent grounds the ones that it was the most reasonable to make. What follows is offered as a solution, in the above sense, of the problem of evil. However, I shall not here attempt to argue that it is the solution.

‘You cannot satisfactorily explain the meaning of your religious utterances; if you cannot explain the meaning, you don't know it; and if you, the speaker, don't know it, how could it exist?’

In debate on faith and reason two opposing positions have dominated the field. The first position asserts that faith and reason are commensurable and the second position denies that assertion. Those holding to the first position differ among themselves as to the extent of the compatibility between faith and reason, most adherents relegating the compatibility to the ‘preambles of faith’ (e.g. the existence of God and his nature) over against the ‘articles of faith’ (e.g. the doctrine of the incarnation). Few have maintained complete harmony between reason and faith, i.e. a religious belief within the realm of reason alone. The second position divides into two sub-positions: (1) that which asserts that faith is opposed to reason (which includes such unlikely bedfellows as Hume and Kierkegaard), placing faith in the area of irrationality; and (2) that which asserts that faith is higher than reason, is transrational. Calvin and Barth assert that a natural theology is inappropriate because it seeks to meet unbelief on its own ground (ordinary human reason). Revelation, however, is ‘self-authenticating’, ‘carrying with it its own evidence’.1 We may call this position the ‘transrationalist’ view of faith. Faith is not so much against reason as above it and beyond its proper domain. Actually, Kierkegaard shows that the two sub-positions are compatible. He holds both that faith is above reason (superior to it) and against reason (because reason has been affected by sin). The irrationalist and transrationalist positions are sometimes hard to separate in the incommensurabilist's arguments. At least, it seems that faith gets such a high value that reason comes off looking not simply inadequate but culpable. To use reason where faith claims the field is not only inappropriate but irreverent or faithless.

Traditional theology asserts that God is omnipotent. I wi11 argue that there is no way that a person could be justified in believing that God is omnipotent. It follows that one cannot know that God is omnipotent, since knowledge requires justified belief.

It might appear to be beyond question, for Christian theism, both that God is omniscient and that omniscience includes knowledge of future truth. For it seems obvious that if P is true, then an omniscient being knows that P. P, in this propositional function, is entirely general, and must therefore include propositions of the form: ‘it will be the case that X’. If, truly, it will be the case that X, then God knows that truth.

There are two quite common views which appear to be embraced by a large number of aestheticians as well as a large number of nonaestheticians. It is quite commonly believed by many of both groups that God is omniscient with respect to the future, that is, that God knows everything that will ever occur. I refer to this belief as the doctrine of divine omniprescience. It is also quite common to many of both groups to believe that literary authorship is creative in the sense that by means of his composing activity an author is an agent who brings about the existence of some thing (e.g., a play, a poem, a novel, etc.) which did not exist prior to the composing activity of that agent and which would not exist without the composing activity of that agent or some similar agent. I shall call this belief the doctrine of literary creativity. What does not appear to be recognized is that these two doctrines cannot both be consistently endorsed. I argue that the two doctrines jointly entail a contradiction and I will point out some of the logical consequences of trying to avoid that contradiction.

There is a theory about knowledge of the meanings of words which has been held by philosophers as different as existentialists and crude empiricists.1 It may be called the empiricist theory, and is stated thus:

If anyone fully understands the meaning of ‘x’, then the object(s) denoted by ‘x’ must have been experienced or ‘encountered’ by that person.

In a recent paper, Robert A. Oakes argues that a doctrine central to, and partially constitutive of, classical theism implies a certain sort of pantheism. The doctrine in question is a modal form of the claim that God conserves in existence the world of contingent things; alternatively, it is the view that all contingently existing things are necessarily continuously dependent upon God for their existence. And the variety of pantheism at stake is a modal form of the thesis that all contingent things are, in some sense, included within the being of God.

Some philosophers have argued that a world created by an omnipotent, omniscient and perfectly good being would not contain evil. Since the world contains evil in fact, it follows (so it is claimed) that the world was not created by an omnipotent, omniscient and perfectly good being. One of the replies frequently given to this argument is that the world contains evil only because it is populated with free creatures (men and devils) who perform morally wrong action. This is the centre of the so-called ‘Free Will Theodicy’ - a favourite not only of technical theologians such as Thomas Aquinas but of practising believers of the least sophisticated sort. On this view, evil results from the illicit exercise of created free will. The fault thus lies with his creatures and not with the omnipotent, omniscient and perfectly good creator.

Gordon Kaufman is a theologian who wrestles with essential theological issues. In a recent amplification of his position, An Essay on Theological Method,1 he makes an honest attempt to describe the method by which a self-critical theologian might work. This paper sets out a critique of the method Kaufman proposes and from that delineates a path which theologians might choose to follow.

Some theists believe that the moral rightness and wrongness of actions consists in agreement and disagreement, respectively, with God's commands. And even theists who do not hold this meta-ethical view do generally believe that all right action is commanded by God and should be done in obedience to him.1 I wish to respond here to one of the commonest objections to this belief - the objection that it is incompatible with a proper regard for the virtue of autonomy.2

The problem of foreknowledge and freedom presents a challenge to the defender of traditional Western theism. Nelson Pike has argued that the existence of an essentially omniscient God who possesses foreknowledge is incompatible with human freedom. Pike's opponents in this matter, among whom is Alvin Plantinga, argue that no incompatibility has yet been shown. I shall develop the view that neither Pike nor his opponents have conclusively settled the question whether foreknowledge and freedom are compatible. Furthermore there is a reason why the issue has not been, and may never be, conclusively settled: it is an inherently paradoxical issue. To aid in demonstrating this point I shall discuss a modified version of a paradox that has come to be known as Newcomb's Problem.

Theists typically believe the following two propositions:

(1) God is omniscient,

and

(2) Human beings are free.

Are they consistent? In order to decide, we must first ask what they mean. Roughly, let us say that a being is omniscient if for any proposition he knows whether it is true or false. Since I have no wish to deny that there are true and false propositions about future states of affairs (as some philosophers have done), omniscience includes foreknowledge, which we can say is knowledge of the truth value of propositions about future states of affairs. For example, I believe the proposition ‘Davis will wear shoes tomorrow’ is true today, and if it is true today, i.e. if I will wear shoes tomorrow, an omniscient being knows today that it is true – and, if this being is eternally omniscient, he knew it millions of years ago.

A noticeable number of contemporary Japanese intellectuals have associated Nichiren (1222–82) with intolerant nationalism and henceforth have viewed him with an air of aloofness, if not of contempt. For these intellectuals, who have come to denounce nationalism and patriotism as a dangerous ideology that led Japan to the tragedy of World War II, Nichiren's passion for Japan runs counter to their decided preference for a man more cosmopolitan in taste, even a man critical of Japan. It is true that the followers of Nichiren attempted to promote Nichiren as a patriotic Buddhist when ultra-nationalistic fervour was steadily advancing Japan as a formidable power in the world through her victory in the Sino-Japanese War in 1895 and the Russo-Japanese War a decade later.1 The image of Nichiren presented by his ultra-nationalistic followers in early modern Japan and by contemporary intellectuals continues to obscure Nichiren's own teaching. The present paper probes Nichiren's attitude toward Japan in the context of his messianic view of history, which constitutes one of the most salient features of Nichiren's teaching of seven centuries ago.

At one time there was a very close contact between British scholars, in the areas of philosophy and religion, and their counterparts in other European countries. Much of this has been lost in our time, and it has long been felt that the time has come to renew and extend these contacts. I therefore very much welcome the opportunity to publish the papers included in this section. At my request, the Chairman of the group, Dr W. Donald Hudson, provided the following note. [Editor]

In an attempt to make the idea of surviving one's own death in a disembodied state intelligible, H. H. Price has presented a possible description of what the afterlife might be like for a disembodied self or consciousness. Price suggests that the world of the disembodied self might be a kind of dream or image world. In it he would replace his present sense-perception by activating his image-producing powers, which are now inhibited by their continuous bombardment by sensory stimuli, to produce mental images. Though he would be cut off from any new supply of sensory material, he might be able to draw upon his memory of his previous physical existence to create an entire environment of images. A nexus of perspectively inter-related images would constitute an object; this would serve as a substitute for the material objects which he perceived in his past life. The entire environment of the disembodied individual would be composed of such families of mental images and would serve to constitute his world. It need not, however, be a solipsistic world, for by means of telepathy the discarnate individual could communicate with other disembodied selves and in this way acquire new information. Price notes that since this world would be as real to the discarnate self as our present world is to our embodied self, in the afterlife the disembodied self in effect would create for itself a real world, though of course if it took it to be anything other than an image world it would be deceiving itself.

Several recent writers, of whom the most important and accessible, for English readers, are probably K. N. Jayatilleke and W. Rahula, have drawn attention to the fact that Buddhism, unlike many other religious philosophies, regards personal experience as the only valid source of knowledge. The Buddha himself is said to have distinguished between those who base their religion, or world-view, on tradition, those who base it on reasoning and speculation, and those who base it on personal experience, as he does himself:

I am one of those who profess the basis of a religion after finding a final and ultimate insight in this life by gaining a higher knowledge personally of a doctrine among doctrines not traditionally heard of before. (Quoted by Jayatilleke, p. 171)

Christian theists have not normally wished to deny either of the following tenets:

T1 God creates human agents such that they are free with respect to certain actions and, therefore, morally responsible for them.

T2 God is an omniscient, wholly good being who is omnipotent in the sense that he has (sovereign, providential) control over all existent states of affairs.