Bad things happen; and not just to bad people, but with apparent indifference to the moral or other qualities of the victims. For the theist who believes that the world is created and governed by an all-powerful and perfectly good God, this is a notorious difficulty. In fact the problem of evil is surely the most persuasive consideration available in favour of atheism.

Donald Evans, for one, thinks not. J. L. Austin, it could be argued, would have disagreed with him. But regardless of what Austin might have said on the question (someone is bound to suggest that he would have taken it back after he said it) I think that Evans is wrong.

Although Professor of Philosophy at Calvin College, Alvin Plantinga has developed a theodicy that is fundamentally Arminian rather than Calvinistic. Anthony Flew, although the son of an Arminian Christian minister, regards the Arminian view of ‘free will’ to be both unacceptable on its own terms and incompatible with classical Christian theism. In this paper I hope to disentangle some of the involved controversy regarding theodicy which has developed between Plantinga and Flew, and between Flew and myself. The major portion of this paper is devoted to showing that Plantinga's theodicy contains some serious flaws and undesirable implications.

Central to Buber's philosophy of I-Thou is his understanding of the related notions of dialogue and revelation and his espousal of a non-propositional account of revelation framed in the language and structure of personal dialogical encounter. The consequent re-interpretation of revelation in this form has been widely influential in contemporary theological circles, especially among those theologians and philosophers of religion broadly known as existentialists. However, the wide dissemination and influence of this position does not guarantee its validity. This paper will try to show that the dialogical account of revelation, at least in the form given it by Buber, is logically and philosophically deficient, being based on a set of misleading analogies between inter-human and Divine-human relations.

The aim of this paper is to show that, though Levine frequently states that Divine Discourse is full of fundamental errors, he does little by way of proving his point. In particular, I defend the claim in Divine Discourse that divine speech is not a species of revelation. I rebut Levine's account of the significance of Biblical scholarship, defend my interpretation of Ricoeur and my remarks on entitlement.

In this article, I argue that foundationalist reconstructions of religious experience lose on all counts: First, philosophical defences of foundationalism are untenable. Second, the theological benefits that can be reaped from foundationalism come at too high a price. I show that both William Alston's and Alvin Plantinga's foundationalism leads to sceptical conclusions. Third, I argue that the epistemic implications of foundationalist reconstructions of religious experience are incompatible with Christian ontology. Criticizing the account Plantinga develops in his books on warrant, I suggest that it is preferrable to reconstruct religious experience in antifoundationalist, i.e., coherentist, terms and develop the model of a mobile for these purposes.

There have emerged two distinct approaches to preserving the coherence of theism. The most common approach involves explicating the concept of an absolutely perfect God in terms of the divine attributes (such as omnipotence, omniscience, and moral perfection) and then analyzing the divine-attribute concepts in such a way that they are rendered mutually consistent. According to this ‘multiple-attribute’ approach, the coherence of theism ultimately turns both on whether each divine-attribute concept can be coherently analyzed independently of the other divine-attribute concepts and on whether the divine attributes are then mutually consistent.

The most elusive and perhaps famous argument in the history of the philosophy of religion was put forth in the eleventh century by St Anselm. Now known as the ontological argument, it is based on the idea that God is that being greater than which is inconceivable. Although historically debate focused on the issue of whether existence is a property, or a perfection, required in our concept of such a being, recently it has taken a back seat to the examination of the indisputable attributes a perfect being must exemplify if He exists. Traditionally such attributes include: omnipotence, omniscience, omnibenevolence, immutability and so forth. The first challenge to the accepted attributes was posed in the Middle Ages; it is the oldest and probably the best known paradox in the philosophy of religion: Can God create a stone so heavy that even He cannot lift it? Whatever the answer is, apparently He is not Almighty. A slightly different version of the omnipotence paradox was advanced in 1955 by J. L. Mackie who questioned whether an omnipotent being could ‘make things He cannot subsequently control’.Both versions are intended to show that the concept of omnipotence suffers from internal incoherence and is therefore inapplicable to any being.

By discussing three different understandings of the notion of God's propositional omniscience from a theistic point of view, I show that the strictly restricted account (SPO) – according to which God knows all true propositions that He can know – is preferable to the two other candidates as the standard interpretation of God's propositional omniscience. To establish this conclusion, I argue that Pruss's argument that strictly restricted omniscience (SPO) entails full omniscience (FPO) fails because it relies on a flawed construal of the former thesis. I propose an alternative construal for strictly restricted omniscience and defend it against some potential objections.

The metaphysics of miracles put forward in my article, ‘Miracles: metaphysics, physics and physicalism’, above (125–147) are, argues Robert Larmer, both unnecessary and unworkable. Here, I try more clearly to explain that my goal of saving important physicalist intuitions that are incompatible with both the ‘open-systems’ and ‘exemption’ approaches’ use of powerful ceteris paribus clauses. I also defend the two mechanisms proposed in the paper from Larmer's criticisms.

Pascal's wager has fascinated philosophers far in excess of its reputation as effective apologetics. Very few of the wager's defenders, in fact, have retained more than an academic interest in its power to persuade. Partly this is a matter of good manners. Pascal is supposed to have pitched his wager at folks who understand only self-interested motivations, and today it is no longer fashionable for defenders of theism to disparage the character of their opponents. But partly the low-key concern with apologetics expresses a philosophical judgement. Pascal's defenders have found the question of the wager's audience to be less philosophically engaging than the logic of its argument. I believe that this assessment is mistaken. The most puzzling feature of Pascal's wager is its invocation of infinite utility. What are finite human beings, theists or otherwise, supposed to make of the idea of an infinitely desirable happiness? There are, I will argue, two sorts of response to this question, and depending on which sort Pascal had in mind, the logic of his wager comes out very differently.

China's regard for nature, as expressed (for example) in Sung landscape painting, is clear and well recognised. What the Chinese believed to exceed the natural world, the realm of ‘the ten-thousand things’, is less clear. The present essay tries to explore this question systematically.

‘In the world today there are three religions: Buddhism, Confucianism and Shinto. Some think they represent the three different countries, India, China and Japan; while others consider them essentially one, or else dispute with one another over the truth or falsity of each. However, the way which may be called the Way of all ways is different from these, and what each of these three teachings calls the Way is not in accord with the Way of Truth. The reason is that Buddhism is the Way of India, and Confucianism is the Way of China. Because they are peculiar to these countries they are not the Way of Japan. Shinto is the Way of Japan, but because of the difference in time, it is not the Way for the present generation. Some may think that the Way is always the Way despite differences in nationality and differences in time; but the Way is called the Way because of its practicality, and a Way which is not practical is not the true Way. Thus, the Way as taught by the three teachings mentioned above is not a Way practicable in present-day Japan’.

A decent interval has elapsed since the publication, in Religious Studies, Vol. 11 (1975), pp. 167–79, of Professor R. C. Zaehner's article: ‘Why Not Islam?’ The question, an intriguing one, was answered there with such ambivalence that a cynic might be forgiven for thinking he was being trifled with, while a well-wisher could easily be lost in confusion. The Professor commended Islam from the angle least worthy to command credence or to merit acceptance. His case for Islam had about it an air of almost perverse pleading, identifying Islam's main asset as an authoritarian simplicity suited to simple minds. The writer appeared to be withholding his own position by the very form of his advocacy. The article could equally be read as a subtle dissuasive. ’Sadly, debate cannot now be joined. For the piece must have been among the very last the author published. Death, as with Dickens and the mystery of Edwin Drood, silences inquiry about the puzzle of his intentions. It would be unseemly to have pressed the issues too sharply or too soon. But, at this distance of time, it may be possible to wonder in print about what Professor Zaehner's purpose really was. ’Why not…?’ is a question which it is always well for us to ask about alternatives within the human, or the religious, scene. Negative questions, as the Latin grammarians have it, expect the answer Yes. ’Why not X,’ however, when it comes to grips, has to pass into reasons why in the affirmative. It is in doing so that Zaehner offers what, on many counts, would seem to be dubious, even un-Islamic, reasons for his pleas.

In a recent article Professor Phillips has argued against Mascall's contention that the role of philosophy in relation to religious belief is to justify that belief by seeking ‘rational grounds for asserting the existence of God’. In this paper I shall investigate the case Phillips presents and the argument he utilises from Winch to establish the conclusion that it is a fundamental misunderstanding to think that one could justify religious belief and I shall further point out a serious dilemma in Phillips's position on the question of religious truth. It is my claim that Phillips does not establish that Mascall's enterprise is an impossible one and that his own position in criticising Mascall leads him into the dilemma I have alluded to.