My object is to suggest some ways of amplifying and applying Bochenski's account,1 in order to bring out its value for philosophical investigation of the doctrines of particular religious communities.

I want to consider in this paper a question that is looming large in the theology of most world religions, not least in the Christian tradition. The following discussion will be confined to the Christian standpoint, though I hope mutatis mutandis the main points will be seen to apply to other religious perspectives as well. Specifically then, this question can be ex–pressed in two ways. We may ask, (i) in the context of the contemporary dialogue situation, how is the committed Christian to regard the adherents of non–Christian religions? and (ii) what status do these alien belief–systems have with respect to the Christian faith–response? Both forms of the issue are often discussed it seems to me without due attention being given to an important distinction between them. So, at the outset, it will be useful to make one or two observations about this. First of all, it is inevitable, I think, that an evaluational factor is implied by both formulations. We are pondering a basically Christian assessment of religious traditions that are non–Christian, and any solution suggested which eventually eliminates a one-sided overall perspective will apparently put us in a dilemma. For, on the one hand, a Christian theology of religions will be expected to produce a Christian (and therefore evaluational) result; on the other hand, a finally nonevaluational solution seems unable to be called a Christian view of things at all. In the event of such a ‘neutral theology’ as the latter resulting (by no means a purely speculative question as we shall see), is the dilemma that becomes apparent a genuine one, or can it be resolved by a more stringent analysis of the relevant issues?

This article seeks to demonstrate the influence of J. G. Fichte's philosophy on Søren Kierkegaard's theory of the self as he develops it in The Sickness unto Death and to interpret his theory of the self as a religious critique of autonomy. Following Michelle Kosch, it argues that Kierkegaard's theory of the self was developed in part as a critique of idealist conceptions of agency. Moreover, Kierkegaard's view of agency provides a powerful way of understanding human freedom and finitude that has implications for contemporary debates about autonomy, normativity, and agency.

Kaufman's God The Problem is a stimulating and important book in so far as it raises for us the problem ‘God’ has become for modern theology (theologians, believers, etc.). In its attempt to bring clarity and precision to our understanding of ‘God’ however, I am much less sure as to its value. Indeed, it seems to me that Kaufman more often confuses the issues than clarifying them—although he does so in a very stimulating manner. The inconsistencies in his argument and the tensions between earlier and later pieces of work are more than trivial as Kaufman suggests in the preface (xi). For example, in his discussion of ‘God as symbol’ he claims that it is possible to conceive God as living and active, one to whom men can pray with conviction and to whom they can cry in their hour of need (113 f). Yet in his discussion of the meaning of ‘act of God’ he denies the same. As he puts it in the latter essay, God is not one who,

‘“walks with me and talks with me” in close interpersonal communion, giving his full attention to my complaints, miraculously extracting me from difficulties into which I have gotten myself, by invading nature and history with ad hoc rescue operations from on high.’ (196)

The question of why humanity first chose to sin is an extension to the problem of evil to which the free-will defence does not easily apply. In De libero arbitrio and elsewhere Augustine argues that as an instance of evil, the fall is necessarily inexplicable. In this article, I identify the problems with this response and attempt to construct an alternative based on Peter van Inwagen's free will ‘mysterianism’. I will argue that the origin of evil is inexplicable not because it is an instance of evil, but because it is an instance of free will.

‘Seeing-as’, or aspect seeing, is generally recognized as having significance for religion, especially so since Wittgenstein. Two questions arise regarding religiously seeing the world as God's creation: have the religious seen the world aright, and does the world religiously require a community that uses religious concepts? I argue that a particular strain of religious tradition provides us with a way to understand the issue of discovery, and that a traditional understanding of the power of God requires that a religious seeing of the world as God's creation, or a place of God's presence, can occur without there being a community that uses such religious concepts.

Richard Brian Davis offers several criticisms of a semantics I once proposed for subjunctive conditionals with impossible antecedents. I reply to these.

According to theistic consubstantialism, the universe and God are essentially made of the same stuff. If theistic consubstantialism is correct, then God possesses the essential power to have knowledge de se of the contents of the mind of every conscious being internal to God. If theistic consubstantialism is false, then God lacks this essential property. So either God is essentially corporeal and possesses greater essential epistemic powers than God would have otherwise or God is essentially incorporeal and has a diminished range of essential epistemic powers. In light of this dilemma, I argue that theists should accept theistic consubstantialism.

In this paper I contribute to the ongoing debate on hell in three ways: (1) I distinguish between three questions that play a key role in any discussion of the doctrine of hell; (2) I argue positively for the need of a doctrine of hell for Christian theism; (3) after evaluating several theological positions, I argue that the doctrine of hell should be construed as intrinsically bound up with the Christian conviction that God is love and wants to live with human beings in a relationship of mutual love and fellowship. From this perspective on hell I provide some fresh criticisms on the positions of John Hick, Thomas Talbott, and Charles Seymour.

Kierkegaard's leap of faith is one of the most thoroughly explored topics in modern philosophy. What can yet another inquiry into this notion hope to achieve? A number of significant things, I think, of both historical and systematic value.

The main contention of this paper is that the leap of faith, often associated with the emergence of existentialism, is Kierkegaard's response to a problem which is essentially Kantian in origin and structure. Kierkegaard wants to accomodate both the Kantian interpretation of morality as rational command and Kant's insistence on morality as the sole point of access to religion, while rejecting the Kantian moralization of religion and rationalization of faith. The leap of faith is not, as existentialism would have it, an absolute beginning in philosophy or in individual reflection but a transition from morality to religion within an essentially Kantian context.

‘The organic body signifies the latent crisis of every known ontology and the touchstone of “any future one which will be able to come forward as a science.”’ —Hans Jonas

‘Thales…said that the magnet has a soul in it because it moves the iron.’—Aristotle

Arguments by W. T. Stace and C. J. Insole show that metaphorical descriptions of God presuppose literal descriptions of God. This poses a problem for the metaphor of darkness which has often been used, for instance by Pseudo-Dionysius, in the context of negative theology and apophatic mysticism. Three strategies of dealing with the problem are discussed in this article. The negative, apophatic approach can be seen either as subverting itself, or as being restricted to certain properties, or as resting on a self-excluding principle. Whereas the first two strategies have their difficulties, self-exclusion is linguistically founded and adequate to the purposes of negative theology.

I have been asked to consider two questions: How Christian ‘oughts’ are related to Christian ‘is-es’, and, What does Christianity take flourishing to be? The background to these questions is that Christian ethics have traditionally been taken, both by supporters and opponents, as au ethic of creature-hood, sometimes quite crudely conceived. It is a sketch, but by no means a caricature, of a great deal of standard Christian thinking, to depict it as answering the two questions as follows: (1) God is your Creator: therefore you ought to obey him. (2) The end of man (his true flourishing) is to glorify God and enjoy him for ever.

While one of John Henry Newman's principal aims in the Grammar of Assent is to explain how men can give a ‘real assent’ to the existence of God, the major part of the actual phenomenology of religious belief in the work is concentrated in the fifth of its ten chapters. Unfortunately, this section of the essay has been overshadowed by the preliminary distinction between real and notional apprehension and by the later invocation of the illative sense; but perhaps the time is now ripe for a closer examination of this central part of Newman's philosophy of religion, which is in many ways the key to the successes and failures of Newman's new method in philosophical theology.

Was Thomas Aquinas the first major Western philosopher to distinguish systematically between things it would be contradictory to deny and other things? He certainly was willing to give his authority to the proposition that whatever is logically impossible (as we say in modern terminology) ‘does not come within the scope of divine omnipotence’. In the later Middle Ages, scholastic philosophers came virtually to equate achievable by divine power and (describable in phraseology) free of contradiction (hence also not (describable in phraseology) free of contradiction and not achievable (even) by divine power).

In his 1950 Marett Lecture, Professor Evans-Pritchard gave an account of important methodological developments which had taken place in social anthropology. I should like to use the occasion to concentrate on some of the deep contemporary divisions in another subject which interested R. R. Marett, namely, the philosophy of religion. I shall do so, however, by reference to some of the methodological issues which concerned Evans-Pritchard.

David Hume's greatness depends in large part on how his writings hint at beautiful and coherent theories which are recognizably Humean despite their divergences from the untidy originals. Now, perhaps the clearest vision of a contradiction–free Platonic Form of Hume was had by J. L. Mackie; he described it in such masterpieces as The Cement of the Universe, Ethics: Inventing Right and Wrong, and The Miracle of Theism. How successful is this last in its attack on theism? I shall discuss Mackie's case against theism of a Platonic or Neoplatonic type which replaces ‘God as a person or mind or spirit’ by a more abstract Creative Force or Principle. Mackie sees in it a ‘a formidable rival’ to any theism treating of a divine being; ‘if you demand an ultimate explanation, then this may well be a better one’ (MT, 234–5). But, his chapter thirteen contends, it fares badly in competition with an atheistic, naturalistic approach.

In his Morality and Religion, W. W. Bartley III states that ‘the chief aim of this study is to get clearer about the extent to which morality and religion may be interdependent’ (p. i). After stating various possible alternatives, in terms of the logical relationships of derivability and compatibility, which are relevant to this issue, Prof. Bartley in fact devotes his book to a consid eration of four views:

(1) Morality is reducible to religion.

(2) Religion is reducible to morality.

(3) Morality and religion are in conflict (partly, not wholly).

(4) Morality and religion are inseparable.

If God loves us and so desires union with us, why is it that so many, who once felt close to God and who have subsequently done nothing to precipitate separation from him, now experience only his absence? A metaphor which has been used repeatedly to answer this question is that separation from God is a kind of spiritual weaning process in which God uses the experience of his absence in order to bring about maturation and greater union with him. After discussing the use of this metaphor in Kierkegaard's Fear and Trembling and John of Cross's poem The Dark Night of the Soul, I discuss the question of how someone's absence could be good for their maturation. I argue that separation has an important role to play in deepening relationships of love – drawing on research in de-adaptation in the psychological and sociological literature, I argue that in order for there to be a union of love, there must be an experience of both dependence and independence. This position can explain why God allows people who engage in the spiritual life to suffer the pain of separation from him.

The traditional problem of evil sets theists the task of reconciling two things: God and evil. I argue that theists face the more difficult task of reconciling God and evils that God is specially obligated to prevent. Because of His authority, God's obligation to curtail evil goes far beyond our Samaritan duty to prevent evil when doing so isn't overly hard. Authorities owe their subjects a positive obligation to prevent certain evils; we have a right against our authorities that they protect us. God's apparent mistake is not merely the impersonal wrong of failing to do enough good – though it is that too. It is the highly personal wrong of failing to live up to a moral requirement that comes bundled with authority over persons. To make my argument, I use the resources of political philosophy and defend a novel change to the orthodox account of authority.