## 1. The Field and its Significance



Ideally, a guide to the nature and history of philosophy of religion
would begin with an analysis or definition of religion. Unfortunately,
there is no current consensus on a precise identification of the
necessary and sufficient conditions of what counts as a religion. We
therefore currently lack a decisive criterion that would enable clear
rulings whether some movements should count as religions (e.g.,
Scientology or Cargo cults of the Pacific islands). But while
consensus in precise details is elusive, the following general
depiction of what counts as a religion may be helpful:



> 
> 
> A religion involves a communal, transmittable body of teachings and
> prescribed practices about an ultimate, sacred reality or state of
> being that calls for reverence or awe, a body which guides its
> practitioners into what it describes as a saving, illuminating or
> emancipatory relationship to this reality through a personally
> transformative life of prayer, ritualized meditation, and/or moral
> practices like repentance and personal regeneration. [This is a
> slightly modified definition of the one for "Religion" in
> the *Dictionary of Philosophy of Religion*, Taliaferro &
> Marty 2010: 196-197; 2018, 240.]
> 
> 
> 



This definition does not involve some obvious shortcomings such as
only counting a tradition as religious if it involves belief in God or
gods, as some recognized religions such as Buddhism (in its main
forms) does not involve a belief in God or gods. Although
controversial, the definition provides some reason for thinking
Scientology and the Cargo cults are proto-religious insofar as these
movements do not have a robust communal, transmittable body of
teachings and meet the other conditions for being a religion. (So,
while both examples are not decisively ruled out as religions, it is
perhaps understandable that in Germany, Scientology is labeled a
"sect", whereas in France it is classified as "a
cult".) For a discussion of other definitions of religion, see
Taliaferro 2009, chapter one, and for a recent, different analysis,
see Graham Oppy 2018, chapter three. The topic of defining religion is
re-engaged below in the
 section 4, "Religion and Science".
 But rather than devoting more space to definitions at the outset, a
pragmatic policy will be adopted: for the purpose of this entry, it
will be assumed that those traditions that are widely recognized today
as religions are, indeed, religions. It will be assumed, then, that
religions include (at least) Hinduism, Buddhism, Daoism, Confucianism,
Judaism, Christianity, Islam, and those traditions that are like them.
This way of delimiting a domain is sometimes described as employing a
definition by examples (an ostensive definition) or making an appeal
to a family resemblance between things. It will also be assumed that
Greco-Roman views of gods, rituals, the afterlife, the soul, are
broadly "religious" or "religiously
significant". Given the pragmatic, open-ended use of the term
"religion" the hope is to avoid beginning our inquiry with
a procrustean bed.



Given the above, broad perspective of what counts as religion, the
roots of what we call *philosophy of religion* stretch back to
the earliest forms of philosophy. From the outset, philosophers in
Asia, the Near and Middle East, North Africa, and Europe reflected on
the gods or God, duties to the divine, the origin and nature of the
cosmos, an afterlife, the nature of happiness and obligations, whether
there are sacred duties to family or rulers, and so on. As with each
of what would come to be considered sub-fields of philosophy today
(like philosophy of science, philosophy of art), philosophers in the
Ancient world addressed religiously significant themes (just as they
took up reflections on what we call science and art) in the course of
their overall practice of philosophy. While from time to time in the
Medieval era, some Jewish, Christian, and Islamic philosophers sought
to demarcate philosophy from theology or religion, the evident role of
philosophy of religion as a distinct field of philosophy does not seem
apparent until the mid-twentieth century. A case can be made, however,
that there is some hint of the emergence of philosophy of religion in
the seventeenth century philosophical movement Cambridge Platonism.
Ralph Cudworth (1617-1688), Henry More (1614-1687), and
other members of this movement were the first philosophers to practice
philosophy in English; they introduced in English many of the terms
that are frequently employed in philosophy of religion today,
including the term "philosophy of religion", as well as
"theism", "consciousness",and
"materialism". The Cambridge Platonists provided the first
English versions of the cosmological, ontological, and teleological
arguments, reflections on the relationship of faith and reason, and
the case for tolerating different religions. While the Cambridge
Platonists might have been the first explicit philosophers of
religion, for the most part, their contemporaries and successors
addressed religion as part of their overall work. There is reason,
therefore, to believe that philosophy of religion only gradually
emerged as a distinct sub-field of philosophy in the mid-twentieth
century. (For an earlier date, see James Collins' stress on
Hume, Kant and Hegel in *The Emergence of Philosophy of
Religion*, 1967.)



Today, philosophy of religion is one of the most vibrant areas of
philosophy. Articles in philosophy of religion appear in virtually all
the main philosophical journals, while some journals (such as the
*International Journal for Philosophy of Religion*,
*Religious Studies*, *Sophia*, *Faith and
Philosophy*, *the European Journal for Philosophy of
Religion*, *Open Theology*, *Analytical Theology*
and others) are dedicated especially to philosophy of religion.
Philosophy of religion is in evidence at institutional meetings of
philosophers (such as the meetings of the American Philosophical
Association and of the Royal Society of Philosophy). There are
societies dedicated to the field such as the Society for Philosophy of
Religion (USA) and the British Society for Philosophy of Religion and
the field is supported by multiple centers such as the Center for
Philosophy of Religion at the University of Notre Dame, the Rutgers
Center for Philosophy of Religion, the Centre for the Philosophy of
Religion at Glasgow University, The John Hick Centre for Philosophy of
Religion at the University of Birmingham, and other sites (such as the
University of Roehampton and Nottingham University). Oxford University
Press published in 2009 *The History of Western Philosophy of
Religion* in five volumes involving over 100 contributors (Oppy
& Trakakis 2009), and in 2021 Wiley Blackwell published the
*Encyclopedia of Philosophy of Religion* in four volumes, with
over 250 contributors from around the world. What accounts for this
vibrancy? Consider four possible reasons.



First: The religious nature of the world population. Most social
research on religion supports the view that the majority of the
world's population is either part of a religion or influenced by
religion (see the Pew Research Center online). To engage in philosophy
of religion is therefore to engage in a subject that affects actual
people, rather than only tangentially touching on matters of present
social concern. Perhaps one of the reasons why philosophy of religion
is often the first topic in textbook introductions to philosophy is
that this is one way to propose to readers that philosophical study
can impact what large numbers of people actually think about life and
value. The role of philosophy of religion in engaging real life
beliefs (and doubts) about religion is perhaps also evidenced by the
current popularity of books for and against theism in the UK and USA.
Interest in the question "is religion dangerous?" (the
title of a 2006 book by Keith Ward) calls for work in history,
sociology, and psychology, as well was philosophy of religion.



One other aspect of religious populations that may motivate philosophy
of religion is that philosophy is a tool that may be used when persons
compare different religious traditions. Philosophy of religion can
play an important role in helping persons understand and evaluate
different religious traditions and their alternatives. See, for
example, the philosophically oriented survey *Religions: a Quick
Immersion* and Victoria Harrison's *Eastern Philosophy of
Religion*. 



Second: Philosophy of religion as a field may be popular because of
the overlapping interests found in both religious and philosophical
traditions. Both religious and philosophical thinking raise many of
the same, fascinating questions and possibilities about the nature of
reality, the limits of reason, the meaning of life, and so on. Are
there good reasons for believing in God? What is good and evil? What
is the nature and scope of human knowledge? In *Hinduism; A
Contemporary Philosophical Investigation* (2018), Shyam
Ranganathan argues that in Asian thought philosophy and religion are
almost inseparable such that interest in the one supports an interest
in the other.



Third, studying the history of philosophy provides ample reasons to
have some expertise in philosophy of religion. In the West, the
majority of ancient, medieval, and modern philosophers philosophically
reflected on matters of religious significance. Among these modern
philosophers, it would be impossible to comprehensively engage their
work without looking at their philosophical work on religious beliefs:
Rene Descartes (1596-1650), Thomas Hobbes
(1588-1679), Anne Conway (1631-1679), Baruch Spinoza
(1632-1677), Margaret Cavendish (1623-1673), Gottfried
Leibniz (1646-1716), John Locke (1632-1704), George
Berkeley (1685-1753), David Hume (1711-1776), Immanuel
Kant (1724-1804), and G.W.F. Hegel (1770-1831) (the list
is partial). And in the twentieth century, one should make note of the
important philosophical work by Continental philosophers on matters of
religious significance: Martin Heidegger (1889-1976), Jean-Paul
Sartre (1905-1980), Simone de Beauvoir (1908-1986), Albert
Camus (1913-1960), Gabriel Marcel (1889-1973), Franz
Rosenzweig (1886-1929), Martin Buber (1878-1956), Emmanuel
Levinas (1906-1995), Simone Weil (1909-1943) and, more
recently Jacques Derrida (1930-2004), Michel Foucault
(1926-1984), and Luce Irigaray (1930-). Evidence of
philosophers taking religious matters seriously can also be found in
cases of when thinkers who would not (normally) be classified as
philosophers of religion have addressed religion, including A.N.
Whitehead (1861-1947), Bertrand Russell (1872-1970), G.E.
Moore (1873-1958), John Rawls (1921-2002), Bernard
Williams (1929-2003), Hilary Putnam (1926-2016), Derek
Parfit (1942-2017), Thomas Nagel (1937-), Jurgen
Habermas (1929-), and others. Chris Firestone and Nathan Jacobs
have done recent work highlighting the immense work on religions by
modern philosophers that are sometimes ignored in secular histories of
philosophy (see their *The Persistence of the Sacred in Modern
Thought*).



In Chinese and Indian philosophy there is an even greater challenge
than in the West to distinguish important philosophical and religious
sources of philosophy of religion. It would be difficult to classify
Nagarjuna (150-250 CE) or Adi Shankara (788-820 CE) as
exclusively philosophical or religious thinkers. Their work seems as
equally important philosophically as it is religiously (see
Ranganathan 2018).



Fourth, a comprehensive study of theology or religious studies also
provides good reasons to have expertise in philosophy of religion. As
just observed, Asian philosophy and religious thought are intertwined
and so the questions engaged in philosophy of religion seem relevant:
what is space and time? Are there many things or one reality? Might
our empirically observable world be an illusion? Could the world be
governed by Karma? Is reincarnation possible? In terms of the West,
there is reason to think that even the sacred texts of the Abrahamic
faith involve strong philosophical elements: In Judaism, Job is
perhaps the most explicitly philosophical text in the Hebrew Bible.
The wisdom tradition of each Abrahamic faith may reflect broader
philosophical ways of thinking; the Christian New Testament seems to
include or address Platonic themes (the Logos, the soul and body
relationship). Much of Islamic thought includes critical reflection on
Plato, Aristotle, Plotinus, as well as independent philosophical
work.



Let us now turn to the way philosophers have approached the meaning of
religious beliefs.


## 2. The Meaning of Religious Beliefs



Prior to the twentieth century, a substantial amount of philosophical
reflection on matters of religious significance (but not all) has been
realist. That is, it has often been held that religious beliefs are
true or false. Xenophanes and other pre-Socratic thinkers, Socrates,
Plato, Aristotle, the Epicureans, the Stoics, Philo, Plotinus differed
on their beliefs (or speculation) about the divine, and they and their
contemporaries differed about skepticism, but they held (for example)
that there either was a divine reality or not. Medieval and modern
Jewish, Christian, and Islamic philosophers differed in terms of their
assessment of faith and reason. They also faced important
philosophical questions about the authority of revelation claims in
the Hebrew Bible, the Christian Bible, and the Qur'an. In Asian
philosophy of religion, some religions do not include revelation
claims, as in Buddhism and Confucianism, but Hindu tradition
confronted philosophers with assessing the Vedas and Upanishads. But
for the most part, philosophers in the West and East thought there
were truths about whether there is a God, the soul, an afterlife, that
which is sacred (whether these are known or understood by any human
being or not). Realism of some kind is so pervasive that the great
historian of philosophy Richard Popkin (1923-2005) once defined
philosophy as "the attempt the give an account of what is true
and what is important" (Popkin 1999: 1). Important philosophers
in the West such as Immanuel Kant (1724-1804) and Friedrich
Nietzsche (1844-1900), among others, challenged classical
realist views of truth and metaphysics (ontology or the theory of what
is), but the twentieth century saw two, especially powerful movements
that challenged realism: logical positivism and philosophy of religion
inspired by Wittgenstein.



As a preface to addressing these two movements, let us take note of
some of the nuances in philosophical reflection on the realist
treatment of religious language. Many theistic philosophers (and their
critics) contend that language about God may be used univocally,
analogically or equivocally. A term is used univocally about God and
humans when it has the same sense. Arguably, the term "to
know" is used univocally of God in the claims "God knows
you" and "You know London", even though how God
knows you and how you know London differ radically. In terms of the
later difference, philosophers sometimes distinguish between
*what* is attributed to some thing and *the mode* in
which some state (such as knowledge) is realized. Terms are used
analogously when there is some similarity between what is being
attributed, e.g., when it is said that "two human persons love
each other" and "God loves the world", the term
"love" may be used analogically when there is some
similarity between these loves). Terms are used equivocally when the
meaning is different as in the statement "Adam knew Eve"
(which in the King James' Bible meant Adam and Eve had
intercourse) and "God knows the world" (while some of the
Homeric gods did have intercourse with humans, this was not part of
theistic worldviews). Theological work that stresses our ability to
form a positive concept of the divine has been called the *via
positiva* or *catophatic theology*. On the other hand,
those who stress the unknowability of God embrace what is called the
*via negativa* or *apophatic theology*. Maimonides
(1135-1204) was a great proponent of the *via negativa*,
favoring the view that we know God principally through what God is not
(God is not material, not evil, not ignorant, and so on).



While some (but not all) philosophers of religion in the Continental
tradition have aligned themselves with apophatic theology such as
Levinas (who was non-theistic) and Jean-Luc Marion (1946-), a
substantial amount (but not all) of analytically oriented philosophy
of religion have tended to adopt the *via positiva* One of the
challenges of apophatic theology is that it seems to make the
philosophy of God remote from religious practices such as prayer,
worship, trust in God's power and goodness, pilgrimages, and
religious ethics. According to Karen Armstrong, some of the greatest
theologians in the Abrahamic faiths held that God



> 
> 
> was not good, divine, powerful, or intelligent in any way that we
> could understand. We could not even say that God
> "existed", because our concept of existence is too
> limited. Some of the sages preferred to say that God was
> "Nothing" because God was not another being... To
> these theologians some of our modern ideas about God would have seemed
> idolatrous. (Armstrong 2009: x)
> 
> 
> 



A *prima facie* challenge to this position is that it is hard
to believe that religious practitioners could pray or worship or trust
in a being which was altogether inscrutable or a being that we cannot
*in any way* understand. For a realist, *via positiva*
philosophy of God that seeks to appreciate the force of apophatic
theology, see Mikael Stenmark's "Competing conceptions of
God: the personal God versus the God beyond being" (2015).



Let us now turn to two prominent philosophical movements that
challenged a realist philosophy of God.


### 2.1 Positivism



"Positivism" is a term introduced by Auguste Comte
(1798-1857), a French philosopher who championed the natural and
social sciences over against theology and the philosophical practice
of metaphysics. The term "positivism" was used later
(sometimes amplified to *Logical Positivism* by A.J. Ayer) by a
group of philosophers who met in Austria called the Vienna Circle from
1922 to 1938. This group, which included Moritz Schlick and Max
Planck, advanced an empirical account of meaning, according to which
for a proposition to be meaningful it needed either to be a conceptual
or formal statement in mathematics or about analytic definitions
("triangles have three angles") or about matters that can
be empirically verified or falsified. Ostensibly factual claims that
do not make any difference in terms of our actual (or possible)
empirical experience are void of meaning. A British philosopher, who
visited the Vienna Circle, A.J. Ayer popularized this criterion of
meaning in his 1936 book, *Language, Truth, and Logic*. In it,
Ayer argued that religious claims as well as their denial were without
cognitive content. By his lights, theism, and also atheism and
agnosticism, were nonsense, because they were about the reality (or
unreality or unknowability) of that which made no difference to our
empirical experience. How might one empirically confirm or disconfirm
that there is an incorporeal, invisible God or that Krishna is an
avatar of Vishnu? Famously, Antony Flew employed this strategy in his
likening the God of theism to a belief that there is an undetectable,
invisible gardener who could not be heard or smelled or otherwise
empirically discovered (Flew 1955). In addition to rejecting
traditional religious beliefs as meaningless, Ayer and other logical
positivists rejected the meaningfulness of moral statements. By their
lights, moral or ethical statements were expressions of persons'
feelings, not about values that have a reality independent of
persons' feelings.



The logical positivist critique of religion is not dead. It can be
seen at work in Herman Philipse's *God in the Age of Science;
A Critique of Religious Reasons* (2012). Still, the criterion of
meaning advanced by logical positivism faced a series of objections
(for details see Copleston 1960 and Taliaferro 2005b).



Consider five objections that were instrumental in the retreat of
logical positivism from its position of dominance.



First, it was charged that logical positivism itself is self-refuting.
Is the statement of its standard of meaning (propositions are
meaningful if and only if they are about the relations of ideas or
about matters that are subject to empirical verification or
falsification) itself about the relations of ideas or about matters
that are subject to empirical verification or falsification? Arguably
not. At best, the positivist criterion of meaning is a recommendation
about what to count as meaningful.



Second, it was argued that there are meaningful statements about the
world that are not subject to direct or indirect empirical
confirmation or disconfirmation. Plausible candidates include
statements about the origin of the cosmos or, closer to home, the
mental states of other persons or of nonhuman animals (for discussion,
see Van Cleve 1999 and Taliaferro 1994).



Third, limiting human experience to what is narrowly understood to be
empirical seemed to many philosophers to be arbitrary or capricious.
C. D. Broad and others defended a wider understanding of experience to
allow for the meaningfulness of moral experience: arguably, one can
experience the wrongness of an act as when an innocent person feels
herself to be violated.



Fourth, Ayer's rejection of the meaningfulness of ethics seemed
to cut against his epistemology or normative account of beliefs, for
he construed empirical knowledge in terms of having the right to
certain beliefs. If it is meaningful to refer to the right to beliefs,
why is it not meaningful to refer to moral rights such as the right
not to be tortured? And if we are countenancing a broader concept of
what may be experienced, in the tradition of phenomenology (which
involves the analysis of appearances) why rule out, as a matter of
principle, the experience of the divine or the sacred?



Fifth, and probably most importantly in terms of the history of ideas,
the seminal philosopher of science Carl Hempel (1905-1997)
contended that the project of logical positivism was too limited
(Hempel 1950). It was insensitive to the broader task of scientific
inquiry which is properly conducted not on the tactical scale of
scrutinizing particular claims about empirical experience but in terms
of a coherent, overall theory or view of the world. According to
Hempel, we should be concerned with empirical inquiry but see this as
defined by an overall theoretical understanding of reality and the
laws of nature. This was not *ipso facto* a position that
favored the meaningfulness of religious belief, but Hempel's
criticism of positivism removed their barrier for overall metaphysical
accounts of reality, be these accounts theistic, pantheistic (roughly,
God is everything), naturalistic, and so on. Moreover, the positivist
critique of what they called metaphysics was attacked as confused as
some metaphysics was implied in their claims about empirical
experience; see the aptly titled classic *The Metaphysics of
Logical Positivism* (1954) by Gustav Bergmann
(1906-1987).



Let us now turn to Wittgenstein (1889-1951) and the philosophy
of religion his work inspired.


### 2.2 Wittgensteinian Philosophy of Religion



Wittgenstein's early work was interpreted by some members of the
Vienna Circle as friendly to their empiricism, but they were surprised
when he visited the Circle and, rather than Wittgenstein discussing
his *Tractatus*, he read them poetry by Rabindranath Tagore
(1861-1941), a Bengal mystic (see Taliaferro 2005b: chapter
eight). In any case, Wittgenstein's later work, which was not
friendly to their empiricism, was especially influential in post-World
War II philosophy and theology and will be the focus here.



In the *Philosophical Investigations* (published posthumously
in 1953) and in many other works (including the publication of notes
taken by his students on his lectures), Wittgenstein opposed what he
called the picture theory of meaning. On this view, statements are
true or false depending upon whether reality matches the picture
expressed by the statements. Wittgenstein came to see this view of
meaning as deeply problematic. The meaning of language is, rather, to
be found not in referential fidelity but in its use in what
Wittgenstein referred to as *forms of life*. As this position
was applied to religious matters, D.Z. Phillips (1966, 1976), B.R.
Tilghman (1994), and, more recently, Howard Wettstein (2012), sought
to displace traditional metaphysical debate and arguments over theism
and its alternatives and to focus instead on the way language about
God, the soul, prayer, resurrection, the afterlife, and so on,
functions in the life of religious practitioners. For example,
Phillips contended that the practice of prayer is best not viewed as
humans seeking to influence an all powerful, invisible person, but to
achieve solidarity with other persons in light of the fragility of
life. Phillips thereby sees himself as following Wittgenstein's
lead by focusing, not on which picture of reality seems most faithful,
but on the non-theoretical ways in which religion is practiced.



> 
> 
> To ask whether God exists is not to ask a theoretical question. If it
> is to mean anything at all, it is to wonder about praising and
> praying; it is to wonder whether there is anything in all that. This
> is why philosophy cannot answer the question "Does God
> exist?" with either an affirmative or a negative reply ...
> "There is a God", though it appears to be in the
> indicative mood, is an expression of faith. (Phillips 1976: 181; see
> also Phillips 1970: 16-17)
> 
> 
> 



At least two reasons bolstered this philosophy of religion inspired by
Wittgenstein. First, it seemed as though this methodology was more
faithful to the practice of philosophy of religion being truly
*about the actual practice of religious persons themselves.*
Second, while there has been a revival of philosophical arguments for
and against theism and alternative concepts of God (as will be noted
in
 section 5),
 significant numbers of philosophers from the mid-twentieth century
onward have concluded that all the traditional arguments and
counter-arguments about the metaphysical claims of religion are
indecisive. If that is the case, the Wittgenstein-inspired new
philosophy of religion had the advantage of shifting ground to what
might be a more promising area of agreement.



While this non-realist approach to religion has its defenders today,
especially in work by Howard Wettstein, many philosophers have
contended that traditional and contemporary religious life rests on
making claims about what is truly the case in a realist context. It is
hard to imagine why persons would pray to God if they, literally,
thought there is no God of any kind. (see Wynn 2020, chapter six)



Interestingly, perhaps inheriting the Wittgenstein stress on practice,
some philosophers working on religion today place greater stress on
the meaning of religion in life, rather than seeing religious belief
as primarily a matter of assessing an hypothesis (see Cottingham
2014).


## 3. Religious Epistemology



According to the prestigious *Cambridge Dictionary of
Philosophy*, religious epistemology is "a branch of
philosophy that investigates the epistemic status of propositional
attitudes about religious claims" (Audi 2015: 925). Virtually
all the extant and current methodologies in epistemology have been
employed in assessing religious claims. Some of these methods have
been more rationalistic in the sense that they have involved reasoning
from ostensibly self-evident truths (e.g., a principle of sufficient
reason), while others have been more experiential (e.g., empiricism,
phenomenology, the stress on passion and subjectivity, the stress on
practice as found in pragmatism). Also, some have sought to be
ahistorical (not dependent upon historical revelation claims), while
others are profoundly historical (e.g., grounded on revelation either
known by faith alone or justified evidentially by an appeal to
miracles and/or religious experience.



Over the past twenty years, there has been a growing literature on the
nature of religious faith. Among many philosophers in the analytical
tradition, faith has often been treated as the propositional attitude
belief, e.g., believing that there is or is not a God, and much work
devoted to examining when such belief is backed up by evidence and, if
so, how much and what kinds of evidence. There has been a famous
debate over "the ethics of belief", determining what kinds
of belief should not be entertained or countenanced when the evidence
is deemed insufficient, and when matters of religious faith may be
justified on pragmatic grounds (e.g., as a wager or venture). Faith
has also been philosophically treated as trust, a form of hope, an
allegiance to an ideal, commitment, and faithful action with or
without belief (for a survey see Abraham & Aquino 2017; for a
recent defense of religious faith without belief, see Schellenberg
2017).



The following examines first what is known as evidentialism and
reformed epistemology and then a form of what is called volitional
epistemology of religion.


### 3.1 Evidentialism, Reformed Epistemology, and Volitional Epistemology



Evidentialism is the view that for a person to be justified in some
belief, that person must have some awareness of the evidence for the
belief. This is usually articulated as a person's belief being
justified given the total evidence available to the person. On this
view, the belief in question must not be undermined (or defeated) by
other, evident beliefs held by the person. Moreover, evidentialists
often contend that the degree of confidence in a belief should be
proportional to the evidence. Evidentialism has been defended by
representatives of all the different viewpoints in philosophy of
religion: theism, atheism, advocates of non-theistic models of God,
agnostics. Evidentialists have differed in terms of their accounts of
evidence (what weight might be given to phenomenology?) and the
relationship between evident beliefs (must beliefs either be
foundational or basic or entailed by such foundational beliefs?)
Probably the most well known evidentialist in the field of philosophy
of religion who advocates for theism is Richard Swinburne
(1934-).



Swinburne was (and is) the leading advocate of theistic natural
theology since the early 1970s. Swinburne has applied his considerable
analytical skills in arguing for the coherence and cogency of theism,
and the analysis and defense of specific Christian teachings about the
trinity, incarnation, the resurrection of Christ, revelation, and
more. Swinburne's projects in the evidentialist tradition in
philosophy of religion are in the great tradition of British
philosophy of religion from the Cambridge Platonists in the
seventeenth century through Joseph Butler (1692-1752) and
William Paley (1743-1805) to twentieth century British
philosophers such as A.E. Taylor (1869-1945), F. R. Tennant
(1866-1957), William Temple (1881-1944), H.D. Lewis
(1910-1992), and A.C. Ewing (1899-1973). The positive
philosophical case for theism has been met by work by many powerful
philosophers, most recently Ronald Hepburn (1927-2008), J.L.
Mackie (1917-1981), Antony Flew (1923-2010), Richard Gale
(1932-2015), William Rowe (1931-2015), Michael Martin
(1932-2015), Graham Oppy (1960-), J.L. Schellenberg
(1959-), and Paul Draper (1957-). (See *The Routledge
Companion to Theism* [Taliaferro, Harrison, & Goetz 2012] for
an overview of such work.)



There have been at least two interesting, recent developments in the
philosophy of religion in the framework of evidentialism. One has been
advanced by John Schellenberg who argues that if the God of
Christianity exists, God's reality would be far more evident
than it is. Arguably, in the Christian understanding of values, an
evident relationship with God is part of the highest human good, and
if God were loving, God would bring about such a good. Because there
is evidence that God does not make Godself available to earnest
seekers of such a relationship, this is evidence that such a God does
not exist. According to this line of reasoning, the absence of
evidence of the God of Christianity is evidence of absence (see
Schellenberg 2007 and Howard-Snyder & Moser 2001). The argument
applies beyond Christian values and theism, and to any concept of God
in which God is powerful and good and such that a relationship with
such a good God would be fulfilling and good for creatures. It would
not work with a concept of God (as we find, for example, in the work
of Aristotle) in which God is not lovingly and providentially engaged
in the world. This line of reasoning is often referred to in terms of
the hiddenness of God.



Another interesting development has been advanced by Sandra Menssen
and Thomas Sullivan. In philosophical reflection about God the
tendency has been to give priority to what may be called bare theism
(assessing the plausibility of there being the God of theism) rather
than a more specific concept of God. This priority makes sense insofar
as the plausibility of a general thesis (there are mammals on the
savanna) will be greater than a more specific thesis (there are 12,796
giraffes on the savanna). But Menssen and Sullivan argue that
practicing philosophy of religion from a more particular, especially
Christian, context, provides a richer "data base" for
reflection.



> 
> 
> The all-too-common insistence among philosophers that
> proper procedure requires establishing the likelihood of God's
> existence prior to testing revelatory claims cuts off a huge part of
> the data base relevant to arguing for theism... For it is
> difficult to establish God's existence as likely unless some
> account can be given of the evils of the world, and the account
> Christianity has to offer is unimaginably richer than any
> non-religious account. The Christian account, accessed through
> scripture, is a story of love: of God's love for us and of what
> God has prepared for those who love him... It is a story of the
> salvific value of suffering: our sufferings are caught up with
> Christ's, and are included in the sufferings adequate for the
> world's redemption, sufferings Christ has willed to make his
> own. (Menssen & Sullivan 2017: 37-38)
> 
> 
> 



In terms of the order of inquiry, it may be helpful at times, to
consider more specific philosophical positions--for example, it
may seem at first glance that materialism is hopeless until one
engages the resources of some specific materialist account that
involves functionalism--but, arguably, this does not alone offset
the logical primacy of the more general thesis (whether this is bare
theism or bare materialism). Perhaps the import of the
Menssen-Sullivan proposal is that philosophers of religion need to
enhance their critical assessment of general positions along with
taking seriously more specific accounts about the data on hand (e.g.,
when it comes to theism, assessing the problem of evil in terms of
possible theological positions on redemption as presented in
ostensible revelations).



Evidentialism has been challenged on many grounds. Some argue that it
is too stringent; we have many evident beliefs that we would be at a
loss to successfully justify. Instead of evidentialism, some
philosophers adopt a form of reliabilism, according to which a person
may be justified in a belief so long as the belief is produced by a
reliable means, whether or not the person is aware of evidence that
justifies the belief. Two movements in philosophy of religion develop
positions that are not in line with the traditional evidential
tradition: reformed epistemology and volitional epistemology.



Reformed epistemology has been championed by Alvin Plantinga
(1932-) and Nicholas Wolterstorff (1932-), among others.
Reformed epistemology is "Reformed" insofar as it draws on
the Reformer John Calvin (1509-1564) who claimed that persons
are created with a sense of God (*sensus divinitatis*). While
this sense of God may not be apparent due to sin, it can reliably
prompt persons to believe in God and support a life of Christian
faith. While this prompting may play an evidential role in terms of
the experience or ostensible perception of God, it can also warrant
Christian belief in the absence of evidence or argument (see K. Clark
& VanArragon 2011; M. Bergmann 2017; and Plantinga & Bergmann
2016). In the language Plantinga introduced, belief in God may be as
properly basic as our ordinary beliefs about other persons and the
world. The framework of Reformed epistemology is conditional as it
advances the thesis that if there is a God and if God has indeed
created us with a *sensus divinitatis* that reliably leads us
to believe (truly) that God exists, then such belief is warranted.
There is a sense in which Reformed epistemology is more of a defensive
strategy (offering grounds for thinking that religious belief, if
true, is warranted) rather than providing a positive reason why
persons who do not have (or believe they have) a *sensus
divinitatis* should embrace Christian faith. Plantinga has argued
that at least one alternative to Christian faith, secular naturalism,
is deeply problematic, if not self-refuting, but this position (if
cogent) has been advanced more as a reason not to be a naturalist than
as a reason for being a theist. (For a stronger version of the
argument that theism better accounts for the normativity of reason
than alternatives, see Angus Menuge's *Agents Under
Fire*, 2004.)



Reformed epistemology is not *ipso facto* fideism. Fideism
explicitly endorses the legitimacy of faith without the support, not
just of (propositional) evidence, but also of reason (MacSwain 2013).
By contrast, Reformed epistemology offers a metaphysical and
epistemological account of warrant according to which belief in God
can be warranted even if it is not supported by evidence and it offers
an account of properly basic belief according to which basic belief in
God is on an epistemic par with our ordinary basic beliefs about the
world and other minds which seem to be paradigmatically rational.
Nonetheless, while Reformed epistemology is not necessarily fideistic,
it shares with fideism the idea that a person may have a justified
religious belief in the absence of evidence.



Consider now what is called volitional epistemology in the philosophy
of religion. Paul Moser has systematically argued for a profoundly
different framework in which he contends that if the God of
Christianity exists, this God would not be evident to inquirers who
(for example) are curious about whether God exists. By Moser's
lights, the God of Christianity would only become evident in a process
that would involve the moral and spiritual transformation of persons
(Moser 2017). This process might involve persons receiving (accepting)
the revelation of Jesus Christ as redeemer and sanctifier who calls
persons to a radical life of loving compassion, even the loving of our
enemies. By willfully subjecting oneself to the commanding love of
God, a person in this filial relationship with God through Christ may
experience a change of character (from self-centeredness to serving
others) in which the person's character (or very being) may come
to serve as evidence of the truths of faith.


### 3.2 The Epistemology of Disagreement



The terrain covered so far in this entry indicates considerable
disagreement over epistemic justification and religious belief. If the
experts disagree about such matters, what should non-experts think and
do? Or, putting the question to the so-called experts, if you (as a
trained inquirer) disagree about the above matters with those whom you
regard as equally intelligent and sensitive to evidence, should that
fact alone bring you to modify or even abandon the confidence you hold
concerning your own beliefs?



Some philosophers propose that in the case of disagreements among
epistemic peers, one should seek some kind of account of the
disagreement. For example, is there any reason to think that the
evidence available to you and your peers differs or is conceived of
differently. Perhaps there are ways of explaining, for example, why
Buddhists may claim not to observe themselves as substantial selves
existing over time whereas a non-Buddhist might claim that
self-observation provides grounds for believing that persons are
substantial, enduring agents (David Lund 2005). The non-Buddhist might
need another reason to prefer her framework over the Buddhist one, but
she would at least (perhaps) have found a way of accounting for why
equally reasonable persons would come to different conclusions in the
face of ostensibly identical evidence.



Assessing the significance of disagreement over religious belief is
very different from assessing the significance of disagreement in
domains where there are clearer, shared understandings of methodology
and evidence. For example, if two equally proficient detectives
examine the same evidence that Smith murdered Jones, their
disagreement should (other things being equal) lead us to modify
confidence that Smith is guilty, for the detectives may be presumed to
use the same evidence and methods of investigation. But in assessing
the disagreements among philosophers over (for example) the coherence
and plausibility of theism, philosophers today often rely on different
methodologies (phenomenology, empiricism, conceptual or linguistic
analysis, structural theory, post-structuralism, psychoanalysis, and
so on). But what if a person accepts a given religion as reasonable
and yet acknowledges that equally reasonable, mature, responsible
inquirers adopt a different religion incompatible with her own *and
they all share a similar philosophical methodology*? This
situation is not an abstract thought experiment. In Christian-Muslim
dialogue, philosophers often share a common philosophical inheritance
from Plato, Aristotle, Plotinus, and a broad range of shared views
about the perfection of God/Allah.



One option would be to adopt an epistemological pluralism, according
to which persons can be equally well justified in affirming
incompatible beliefs. This option would seem to provide some grounds
for epistemic humility (Audi 2011; Ward 2002, 2014, 2017). In an
appropriately titled essay, "Why religious pluralism is not evil
and is in some respects quite good", (2018) Robert McKim
presents reasons why, from a philosophical point of view, it may be
good to encourage (and not merely acknowledge) ostensibly equally
reasonable worldviews. For an overview of the current state of play in
philosophy of religion on the topic of religious disagreement, see
"Disagreement and the Epistemology of Theology" (King
& Kelly 2017). 



At the end of this section, two observations are also worth noting
about epistemic disagreements. First, our beliefs and our confidence
in the truth of our beliefs may not be under our voluntary control.
Perhaps you form a belief of the truth of Buddhism based on what you
take to be compelling evidence. Even if you are convinced that equally
intelligent persons do not reach a similar conclusion, that alone may
not empower you to deny what seems to you to be compelling. Second, if
the disagreement between experts gives you reason to abandon a
position, then the very principle you are relying on (one should
abandon a belief that *X* if experts disagree about *X*)
would be undermined, for experts disagree about what one should do
when experts disagree. For overviews and explorations of relevant
philosophical work in a pluralistic setting, see *New Models of
Religious Understanding* (2018) edited by Fiona Ellis and
*Renewing Philosophy of Religion* (2017) edited by Paul Draper
and J.L. Schellenberg. Two other resources are also highly
recommended: In *God, Knowledge, and the Good*, Linda Zagzebski
commends the epistemic importance of practicing philosophy in a
communal setting and in *On Evidence in Philosophy* William
Lycan offers a seasoned view of how to assess the epistemic
credibility of arguments by philosophers.


## 4. Religion and Science



The relationship between religion and science has been an important
topic in twentieth century philosophy of religion and it seems highly
important today. 



This section begins by considering the National Academy of Sciences
and Institute of Medicine (now the National Academy of Medicine)
statement on the relationship between science and religion:



> 
> 
> Science and religion are based on different aspects of human
> experience. In science, explanations must be based on evidence drawn
> from examining the natural world. Scientifically based observations or
> experiments that conflict with an explanation eventually must lead to
> modification or even abandonment of that explanation. Religious faith,
> in contrast, does not depend only on empirical evidence, is not
> necessarily modified in the face of conflicting evidence, and
> typically involves supernatural forces or entities. Because they are
> not a part of nature, supernatural entities cannot be investigated by
> science. In this sense, science and religion are separate and address
> aspects of human understanding in different ways. Attempts to pit
> science and religion against each other create controversy where none
> needs to exist. (NASIM 2008: 12)
> 
> 
> 



This view of science and religion seems promising on many fronts. If
the above statement on science and religion is accepted, then it seems
to insure there is minimal conflict between two dynamic domains of
what the Academies refer to as "human experience". The
National Academies do seem to be correct in implying that the key
elements of many religions do not admit of direct scientific
investigations nor rest "only on empirical evidence".
Neither God nor Allah nor Brahman (the divine as conceived of in
Judaism, Christianity, Islam, and Hinduism) is a physical or material
object or process. It seems, then, that the divine or the sacred and
many other elements in world religions (meditation, prayer, sin and
forgiveness, deliverance from craving) can only be indirectly
investigated scientifically. So, a neurologist can produce detailed
studies of the brains of monks and nuns when they pray and meditate,
and there can be comparative studies of the health of those who
practice a religion and those who do not, but it is very hard to
conceive of how to scientifically measure God or Allah or Brahman or
the Dao, heaven, and so on. Despite the initial plausibility of the
Academies stance, however, it may be problematic.



First, a minor (and controversial) critical point in response to the
Academies: The statement makes use of the terms "supernatural
forces or entities" that "are not part of nature".
The term "supernatural" is not the standard term used to
refer only to God or the divine, probably (in part) because in English
the term "supernatural" refers not just to God or the
divine, but also to poltergeists, ghosts, devils, witches, mediums,
oracles, and so on. The later are a panoply of what is commonly
thought of as preposterous superstition. (The similarity of the terms
*supernatural* and *superstitious* may not be an
accident.) The standard philosophical term to reference God in the
English language, from the seventeenth century onward, is
*theism* (from the Greek *theos* for god/God). So,
rather than the statement refer to "supernatural forces or
entities", a more charitable phrase might refer to how many
world religions are theistic or involve some sacred reality that is
not directly, empirically measurable. 



Moving beyond this minor point about terminology, religious beliefs
have traditionally and today been thought of as subject to evidence.
Evidence for religious beliefs have included appeal to the contingency
of the cosmos and principles of explanation, the ostensibly purposive
nature of the cosmos, the emergence of consciousness, and so on.
Evidence against religious belief have included appeal to the evident,
quantity of evil in the cosmos, the success of the natural sciences,
and so on. 



One reason, however, for supporting the Academies notion that religion
and science do not overlap is the fact that in modern science there
has been a bracketing of reference to minds and the mental. That is,
the sciences have been concerned with a mind-independent physical
world, whereas in religion this is chiefly a domain concerned with
mind (feelings, emotions, thoughts, ideas, and so on), created minds
and (in the case of some religions) the mind of God. The science of
Kepler, Copernicus, Galileo, and Newton was carried out with an
explicit study of the world without appeal to anything involving what
today would be referred to as the psychological, the mind or the
mental. So, Newton's laws of motion about the attraction and
repulsion of material objects make no mention of how love or desire or
emotional need might be required to explain the motion of two material
bodies to embrace romantically. The bracketing of mind from the
physical sciences was not a sign of early scientists having any doubts
about the existence, power and importance of minds. That is, from
Kepler through Newton and on to the early twentieth century,
scientists themselves did not doubt the causal significance of minds;
they simply did not include minds (their own or the minds of others)
among the data of what they were studying. But interestingly, each of
the early modern scientists believed that what they were studying was
in some fashion made possible by the whole of the natural world
(terrestrial and celestial) being created and sustained in existence
by a Divine Mind, an all good, necessarily existing Creator. They had
an overall or comprehensive worldview according to which science
itself was reasonable and made sense. Scientists have to have a kind
of faith or trust in their methods and that the cosmos is so ordered
that their methods are effective and reliable. The earliest modern
scientists thought such faith (in what Einstein refers to as
"the rationality and intelligibility of the world" (Cain
2015: 42, quoting a 1929 statement in Einstein 1954 [1973: 262]) was
reasonable because of their belief in the existence of God (Cain
2015).



Whether there is sufficient evidence for or against some religious
conception of the cosmos will be addressed in
 section 4.
 Let us contrast briefly, however, two very different views on whether
contemporary science has undermined religious belief.



According to Steven Pinker, science has shown the beliefs of many
religions to be false.



> 
> 
> To begin with, the findings of science entail that the belief systems
> of all the world's traditional religions and
> cultures--their theories of the origins of life, humans, and
> societies--are factually mistaken. We know, but our ancestors did
> not, that humans belong to a single species of African primate that
> developed agriculture, government, and writing late in its history. We
> know that our species is a tiny twig of a genealogical tree that
> embraces all living things and that emerged from prebiotic chemicals
> almost four billion years ago.... We know that the laws governing
> the physical world (including accidents, disease, and other
> misfortunes) have no goals that pertain to human well-being. There is
> no such thing as fate, providence, karma, spells, curses, augury,
> divine retribution, or answered prayer--though the discrepancy
> between the laws of probability and the workings of cognition may
> explain why people think there is. (Pinker 2013)
> 
> 
> 



Following up on Pinker, it should be noted that it would not be
scientifically acceptable today to appeal to miracles or to direct
acts of God. Any supposed miracle would (to many, if not all
scientists) be a kind of defeat and to welcome an unacceptable
mystery. This is why some philosophers of science propose that the
sciences are *methodologically atheistic*. That is, while
science itself does not pass judgment on whether God exists (even
though some philosophers of science do), appealing to God's
existence forms no part of their scientific theories and
investigations.



There is some reason to think that Pinker's case may be
overstated, however, and that it would be more fair to characterize
the sciences as *methodologically agnostic* (simply not taking
a view on the matter of whether or not God exists) rather than
atheistic (taking a position on the matter). First, Pinker's
examples of what science has shown to be wrong, seem unsubstantial. As
Michael Ruse points out:



> 
> 
> The arguments that are given for suggesting that science necessitates
> atheism are not convincing. There is no question that many of the
> claims of religion are no longer tenable in light of modern science.
> Adam and Eve, Noah's Flood, the sun stopping for Joshua, Jonah
> and the whale, and much more. But more sophisticated Christians know
> that already. The thing is that these things are not all there is to
> religions, and many would say that they are far from the central
> claims of religion--God existing and being creator and having a
> special place for humans and so forth. (Ruse 2014: 74-75)
> 
> 
> 



Ruse goes on to note that religions address important concerns that go
beyond what is approachable only from the standpoint of the natural
sciences.



> 
> 
> Why is there something rather than nothing? What is the purpose of it
> all? And (somewhat more controversially) what are the basic
> foundations of morality and what is sentience? Science takes the world
> as given Science sees no ultimate purpose to reality... I would
> say that as science does not speak to these issues, I see no reason
> why the religious person should not offer answers. They cannot be
> scientific answers. They must be religious answers--answers that
> will involve a God or gods. There is something rather than nothing
> because a good God created them from love out of nothing. The purpose
> of it all is to find eternal bliss with the Creator. Morality is a
> function of God's will; it is doing what He wants us to do.
> Sentience is that by which we realize that we are made in God's
> image. We humans are not just any old kind of organism. This does not
> mean that the religious answers are beyond criticism, but they must be
> answered on philosophical or theological grounds and not simply
> because they are not scientific. (2014: 76)
> 
> 
> 



The debate over religion and science is ongoing (for promising work,
see Stenmark 2001, 2004).


## 5. Philosophical Reflection on Theism and Its Alternatives



For much of the history of philosophy of religion, there has been
stress on the assessment of theism. Non-theistic concepts of the
divine have increasingly become part of philosophy of religion (see,
for example, Buckareff & Nagasawa 2016; Diller & Kasher 2013;
and Harrison 2006, 2012, 2015).
 Section 6
 makes special note of this broadening of horizons. As noted at the
outset of this entry, theism still has some claim for special
attention given the large world population that is aligned with
theistic traditions (the Abrahamic faiths and theistic Hinduism) and
the enormity of attention given to the defense and critique of theism
in philosophy of religion historically and today.


### 5.1 Philosophical Reflection on Divine Attributes



Speculation about divine attributes in theistic tradition has often
been carried out in accord with what is currently referred to as
*perfect being theology*, according to which God is understood
to be maximally excellent or unsurpassable in greatness. This
tradition was (famously) developed by Anselm of Canterbury
(1033/4-1109). For a contemporary work offering an historic
overview of Anselmian theism, see Yujin Nagasawa's *Maximal
God; A New Defense of Perfect Being Theism* (2017). Divine
attributes in this tradition have been identified by philosophers as
those attributes that are the greatest compossible set of great-making
properties; properties are compossible when they can be instantiated
by the same being. Traditionally, the divine attributes have been
identified as omnipotence, omniscience, perfect goodness, worthiness
of worship, necessary of non-contingent existence, and eternality
(existing outside of time or atemporally). Each of these attributes
has been subject to nuanced different analysis, as noted below. God
has also been traditionally conceived to be incorporeal or immaterial,
immutable, impassable, omnipresent. And unlike Judaism and Islam,
Christian theists conceive of God as triune (the Godhead is not
homogenous but consists of three Persons, Father, Son, and Holy
Spirit) and incarnate as Jesus of Nazareth (fully God and fully
human).



One of the tools philosophers use in their investigation into divine
attributes involve thought experiments. In thought experiments,
hypothetical cases are described--cases that may or may not
represent the way things are. In these descriptions, terms normally
used in one context are employed in expanded settings. Thus, in
thinking of God as omniscient, one might begin with a
non-controversial case of a person knowing that a proposition is true,
taking note of what it means for someone to possess that knowledge and
of the ways in which the knowledge is secured. A theistic thought
experiment would seek to extend our understanding of knowledge as we
think of it in our own case, working toward the conception of a
maximum or supreme intellectual excellence befitting the religious
believers' understanding of God. Various degrees of refinement
would then be in order, as one speculates not only about the extent of
a maximum set of propositions known but also about how these might be
known. That is, in attributing omniscience to God, would one thereby
claim God knows all truths in a way that is analogous to the way we
come to know truths about the world? Too close an analogy would
produce a peculiar picture of God relying upon, for example,
induction, sensory evidence, or the testimony of others. One move in
the philosophy of God has been to assert that the claim "God
knows something" employs the word "knows" univocally
when read as picking out the thesis *that* God knows something,
while it uses the term in only a remotely analogical sense if read as
identifying *how* God knows (Swinburne 1977).



Using thought experiments often employs an appearance principle. One
version of an appearance principle is that a person has a reason for
believing that some state of affairs (SOA) is possible if she can
conceive, describe or imagine the SOA obtaining and she knows of no
independent reasons for believing the SOA is impossible. As stated the
principle is advanced as simply offering a reason for believing the
SOA to be possible, and it thus may be seen a advancing a *prima
facie* reason. But it might be seen as a *secundum facie*
reason insofar as the person carefully scrutinizes the SOA and its
possible defeaters (see Taliaferro & Knuths 2017). Some
philosophers are skeptical of appealing to thought experiments (see
Van Inwagen 1998; for a defense see Taliaferro 2002, Kwan 2013, and
Swinburne 1979; for general treatments see Sorensen 1992 and Gendler
& Hawthorne 2002).


#### 5.1.1 Omniscience



Imagine there is a God who knows the future free action of human
beings. If God does know you will freely do some act *X*, then it
is true that you will indeed do *X*. But if you are free, would
you not be free to avoid doing *X*? Given that it is foreknown
you will do *X*, it appears you would not be free to refrain from
the act. 



Initially this paradox seems easy to dispel. If God knows about your
free action, then God knows that you will freely do something and that
you could have refrained from it. God's foreknowing the act does
not make it necessary. Does not the paradox only arise because the
proposition, "Necessarily, if God knows *X*, then
*X*" is confused with "If God knows *X*, then
necessarily *X*?" After all, it is necessarily the case
that if someone knows you are reading this entry right now, then it is
true that you are reading this entry, but your reading this entry may
still be seen as a contingent, not necessary state of affairs. But the
problem is not so easily diffused, however, because God's
knowledge, unlike human knowledge, is infallible, and if God
infallibly knows that some state of affairs obtains then it cannot be
that the state of affairs does not obtain. Think of what is sometimes
called the necessity of the past. *Once a state of affairs has
obtained, it is unalterably or necessarily the case that it did
occur*. If the future is known precisely and comprehensively,
isn't the future like the past, necessarily or unalterably the
case? If the problem is put in first-person terms and one imagines God
foreknows you will freely turn to a different entry in this
Encyclopedia (moreover, God knows with unsurpassable precision when
you will do so, which entry you will select and what you will think
about it), then an easy resolution of the paradox seems elusive. To
highlight the nature of this problem, imagine God tells you what you
will freely do in the next hour. Under such conditions, is it still
intelligible to believe you have the ability to do otherwise if it is
known by God as well as yourself what you will indeed elect to do?
Self-foreknowledge, then, produces an additional related problem
because the psychology of choice seems to require prior ignorance
about what will be choose.



Various replies to the freedom-foreknowledge debate have been given.
Some adopt compatibilism, affirming the compatibility of free will and
determinism, and conclude that foreknowledge is no more threatening to
freedom than determinism. While some prominent philosophical theists
in the past have taken this route (most dramatically Jonathan Edwards
(1703-1758)), this seems to be the minority position in
philosophy of religion today (exceptions include Paul Helm, John
Fischer, and Lynne Baker). A second position adheres to the
libertarian outlook, which insists that freedom involves a radical,
indeterminist exercise of power, and concludes that God cannot know
future free action. What prevents such philosophers from denying that
God is omniscient is that they contend there are no truths about
future free actions, or that while there are truths about the future,
God either cannot know those truths (Swinburne) or freely decides not
to know them in order to preserve free choice (John Lucas). On the
first view, prior to someone's doing a free action, there is no
fact of the matter that he or she will do a given act. This is in
keeping with a traditional, but controversial, interpretation of
Aristotle's philosophy of time and truth. Aristotle may have
thought it was neither true nor false prior to a given sea battle
whether a given side would win it. Some theists, such as Richard
Swinburne, adopt this line today, holding that the future cannot be
known. If it cannot be known for metaphysical reasons, then
omniscience can be analyzed as *knowing all that it is possible to
know*. That God cannot know future free action is no more of a
mark against God's being omniscient than God's inability
to make square circles is a mark against God's being omnipotent.
Other philosophers deny the original paradox. They insist that
God's foreknowledge is compatible with libertarian freedom and
seek to resolve the quandary by claiming that God is not bound in time
(God does not so much foreknow the future as God knows what for us is
the future from an eternal viewpoint) and by arguing that the unique
vantage point of an omniscient God prevents any impingement on
freedom. God can simply know the future without this having to be
grounded on an established, determinate future. But this only works if
there is no necessity of eternity analogous to the necessity of the
past. Why think that we have any more control over God's
timeless belief than over God's past belief? If not, then there
is an exactly parallel dilemma of timeless knowledge. For outstanding
current analysis of freedom and foreknowledge, see the work of Linda
Zagzebski.


#### 5.1.2 Eternity



Could there be a being that is outside time? In the great monotheistic
traditions, God is thought of as without any kind of beginning or end.
God will never, indeed, can never, cease to be. Some philosophical
theists hold that God's temporality is very much like ours in
the sense that there is a before, during, and an after for God, or a
past, present, and future for God. This view is sometimes referred to
as the thesis that God is everlasting. Those adopting a more radical
stance claim that God is independent of temporality, arguing either
that God is not in time at all, or that God is
"simultaneously" at or in all times. This is sometimes
called the view that God is eternal as opposed to everlasting.



Why adopt the more radical stance? One reason, already noted, is that
if God is not temporally bound, there may be a resolution to the
earlier problem of reconciling freedom and foreknowledge. As St.
Augustine of Hippo put it: 



> 
> 
> so that of those things which emerge in time, the future, indeed, are
> not yet, and the present are now, and the past no longer are; but all
> of these are by Him comprehended in His stable and eternal presence.
> (*The City of God*, XI.21) 
> 
> 
> 



If God is outside time, there may also be a secure foundation
explaining God's immutability (changelessness),
incorruptibility, and immortality. Furthermore, there may be an
opportunity to use God's standing outside of time to launch an
argument that God is the creator of time.



Those affirming God to be unbounded by temporal sequences face several
puzzles which I note without trying to settle. If God is somehow at or
in all times, is God simultaneously at or in each? If so, there is the
following problem. If God is simultaneous with the event of Rome
burning in 410 CE, and also simultaneous with your reading this entry,
then it seems that Rome must be burning at the same time you are
reading this entry. (This problem was advanced by Nelson Pike (1970);
Stump and Kretzmann 1981 have replied that the simultaneity involved
in God's eternal knowledge is not transitive). A different
problem arises with respect to eternity and omniscience. If God is
outside of time, can God know what time it is now? Arguably, there is
a fact of the matter that it is now, say, midnight on 1 July 2018. A
God outside of time might know that at midnight on 1 July 2018 certain
things occur, but could God know when it is *now* that time?
The problem is that the more emphasis one places on the claim that
God's supreme existence is independent of time, the more one
seems to jeopardize taking seriously time as it is known. Finally,
while the great monotheistic traditions provide a portrait of the
Divine as supremely different from the creation, there is also an
insistence on God's proximity or immanence. For some theists,
describing God as a person or person-like (God loves, acts, knows) is
not to equivocate. But it is not clear that an eternal God could be
personal. For recent work on God's relation to time, see work by
Katherine Rogers (2007, 2008). 


#### 5.1.3 The goodness of God



All known world religions address the nature of good and evil and
commend ways of achieving human well-being, whether this be thought of
in terms of salvation, liberation, deliverance, enlightenment,
tranquility, or an egoless state of Nirvana. Notwithstanding important
differences, there is a substantial overlap between many of these
conceptions of the good as witnessed by the commending of the Golden
Rule ("Do unto others as you would have them do unto you")
in many religions. Some religions construe the Divine as in some
respect beyond our human notions of good and evil. In some forms of
Hinduism, for example, Brahman has been extolled as possessing a sort
of moral transcendence, and some Christian theologians and
philosophers have likewise insisted that God is only a moral agent in
a highly qualified sense, if at all (Davies 1993). To call God good
is, for them, very different from calling a human being good.



Here are only some of the ways in which philosophers have articulated
what it means to call God good. In treating the matter, there has been
a tendency either to explain God's goodness in terms of
standards that are not God's creation and thus, in some measure,
independent of God's will, or in terms of God's will and
the standards God has created. The latter view has been termed
*theistic voluntarism*. A common version of theistic
voluntarism is the claim that for something to be good or right simply
means that God approves of permits it and for something to be bad or
wrong means that God disapproves or forbids it.



Theistic voluntarists face several difficulties: moral language seems
intelligible without having to be explained in terms of the Divine
will. Indeed, many people make what they take to be objective moral
judgments without making any reference to God. If they are using moral
language intelligibly, how could it be that the very meaning of such
moral language should be analyzed in terms of Divine volitions? New
work in the philosophy of language may be of use to theistic
voluntarists. According to a causal theory of reference,
"water" necessarily designates H2O. It is not a
contingent fact that water is H2O notwithstanding the fact
that many people can use the term "water" without knowing
its composition. Similarly, could it not be the case that
"good" may refer to that which is willed by God even
though many people are not aware of (or even deny) the existence of
God? Another difficulty for voluntarism lies in accounting for the
apparent meaningful content of claims like "God is good".
It appears that in calling God or in particular God's will
"good" the religious believer is saying more than
"God wills what God wills". If so, must not the very
notion of goodness have some meaning independent of God's will?
Also at issue is the worry that if voluntarism is accepted, the theist
has threatened the normative objectivity of moral judgments. Could God
make it the case that moral judgments were turned upside down? For
example, could God make cruelty good? Arguably, the moral universe is
not so malleable. In reply, some voluntarists have sought to
understand the stability of the moral laws in light of God's
immutably fixed, necessary nature.



By understanding God's goodness in terms of God's being
(as opposed to God's will alone), one comes close to the
non-voluntarist stand. Aquinas and others hold that God is essentially
good in virtue of God's very being. All such positions are
non-voluntarist in so far as they do not claim that what it means for
something to be good is that God wills it to be so. The goodness of
God may be articulated in various ways, either by arguing that
God's perfection requires God being good as an agent or by
arguing that God's goodness can be articulated in terms of other
Divine attributes such as those outlined above. For example, because
knowledge is in itself good, omniscience is a supreme good. God has
also been considered good in so far as God has created and conserves
in existence a good cosmos. Debates over the problem of evil (if God
is indeed omnipotent and perfectly good, why is there evil?) have
poignancy precisely because one side challenges this chief judgment
about God's goodness. (The debate over the problem of evil is
taken up in
 section 5.2.4.)



The choice between voluntarism and seeing God's very being as
good is rarely strict. Some theists who oppose a full-scale
voluntarism allow for partial voluntarist elements. According to one
such moderate stance, while God cannot make cruelty good, God can make
*some* actions morally required or morally forbidden which
otherwise would be morally neutral. Arguments for this have been based
on the thesis that the cosmos and all its contents are God's
creation. According to some theories of property, an agent making
something good gains entitlements over the property. The crucial moves
in arguments that the cosmos and its contents belong to their Creator
have been to guard against the idea that human parents would then
"own" their children (they do not, because parents are not
radical creators like God), and the idea that Divine ownership would
permit anything, thus construing human duties owed to God as the
duties of a slave to a master (a view to which not all theists have
objected). Theories spelling out why and how the cosmos belongs to God
have been prominent in all three monotheistic traditions. Plato
defended the notion, as did Aquinas and Locke (see Brody 1974 for a
defense).



A new development in theorizing about God's goodness has been
advanced in Zagzebski 2004. Zagzebski contends that being an exemplary
virtuous person consists in having good motives. Motives have an
internal, affective or emotive structure. An emotion is "an
affective perception of the world" (2004: xvi) that
"initiates and directs action" (2004: 1). The ultimate
grounding of what makes human motives good is that they are in accord
with the motives of God. Zagzebski's theory is perhaps the most
ambitious virtue theory in print, offering an account of human virtues
in light of theism. Not all theists resonate with her bold claim that
God is a person who has emotions, but many allow that (at least in
some analogical sense) God may be see as personal and having affective
states.



One other effort worth noting to link judgments of good and evil with
judgments about God relies upon the ideal observer theory of ethics.
According to this theory, moral judgments can be analyzed in terms of
how an ideal observer would judge matters. To say an act is right
entails a commitment to holding that if there were an ideal observer,
it would approve of the act; to claim an act is wrong entails the
thesis that if there were an ideal observer, it would disapprove of
it. The theory can be found in works by Hume, Adam Smith, R.M. Hare,
and R. Firth (see Firth 1952 [1970]). The ideal observer is variously
described, but typically is thought of as an impartial omniscient
regarding non-moral facts (facts that can be grasped without already
knowing the moral status or implications of the fact--for
instance, "He did something bad" is a moral fact;
"He hit Smith" is not), and as omnipercipient
(Firth's term for adopting a position of universal affective
appreciation of the points of view of all involved parties). The
theory receives some support from the fact that most moral disputes
can be analyzed in terms of different parties challenging each other
to be impartial, to get their empirical facts straight, and to be more
sensitive--for example, by realizing what it feels like to be
disadvantaged. The theory has formidable critics and defenders. If
true, it does not follow that there is an ideal observer, but if it is
true and moral judgments are coherent, then the idea of an ideal
observer is coherent. Given certain conceptions of God in the three
great monotheistic traditions, God fits the ideal observer description
(and more besides, of course). This need not be unwelcome to atheists.
Should an ideal observer theory be cogent, a theist would have some
reason for claiming that atheists committed to normative, ethical
judgments are also committed to the idea of a God or a God-like being.
(For a defense of a theistic form of the ideal observer theory, see
Taliaferro 2005a; for criticism see Anderson 2005. For further work on
God, goodness, and morality, see Evans 2013 and Hare 2015. For
interesting work on the notion of religious authority, see Zagzebski
2012.)



It should be noted that in addition to attention to the classical
divine attributes discussed in this section, there has also been
philosophical work on divine simplicity, immutability, impassibility,
omnipresence, God's freedom, divine necessity, sovereignty,
God's relationship with abstract objects, Christian teachings
about the Trinity, the incarnation, atonement, the sacraments, and
more.


### 5.2 God's Existence



In some introductory philosophy textbooks and anthologies, the
arguments for God's existence are presented as ostensible proofs
which are then shown to be fallible. For example, an argument from the
apparent order and purposive nature of the cosmos will be criticized
on the grounds that, at best, the argument would establish there is a
purposive, designing intelligence at work in the cosmos. This falls
far short of establishing that there is a God who is omnipotent,
omniscient, benevolent, and so on. But two comments need to be made:
First, that "meager" conclusion alone would be enough to
disturb a scientific naturalist who wishes to rule out all such
transcendent intelligence. Second, few philosophers today advance a
single argument as a proof. Customarily, a design argument might be
advanced alongside an argument from religious experience, and the
other arguments to be considered below. True to Hempel's advice
(cited earlier) about comprehensive inquiry, it is increasingly common
to see philosophies--scientific naturalism or
theism--advanced with cumulative arguments, a whole range of
considerations, and not with a supposed knock-down, single proof.



This section surveys some of the main theistic arguments.


#### 5.2.1 Ontological arguments



There is a host of arguments under this title; version of the argument
works, then it can be deployed using only the concept of God as
maximally excellent and some modal principles of inference, that is,
principles concerning possibility and necessity. The argument need not
resist all empirical support, however, as shall be indicated. The
focus of the argument is the thesis that, if there is a God, then
God's existence is necessary. In other words, God's
existence is not contingent--God is not the sort of being that
just happens to exist or not exist. That necessary existence is built
into the concept of God can be supported by appealing to the way God
is conceived in Jewish, Christian, and Islamic traditions. This would
involve some *a posteriori*, empirical research into the way
God is thought of in these traditions. Alternatively, a defender of
the ontological argument might hope to convince others that the
concept of God is the concept of a being that exists necessarily by
beginning with the idea of a maximally perfect being. If there were a
maximally perfect being, what would it be like? It has been argued
that among its array of great-making qualities (omniscience and
omnipotence) would be necessary existence. Once fully articulated, it
can be argued that a maximally perfect being which existed necessarily
could be called "God". For an interesting, recent
treatment of the relationship between the concept of there being a
necessarily existing being and there being a God, see *Necessary
Existence* by Alexander Pruss and Joshua Rasmussen (2018: chapters
one to three).



The ontological argument goes back to St. Anselm (1033/34-1109),
but this section shall explore a current version relying heavily on
the principle that if something is possibly necessarily the case, then
it is necessarily the case (or, to put it redundantly, it is
necessarily necessary). The principle can be illustrated in the case
of propositions. That six is the smallest perfect number (that number
which is equal to the sum of its divisors including one but not
including itself) does not seem to be the sort of thing that might
just happen to be true. Rather, either it is necessarily true or
necessarily false. If the latter, it is not possible, if the former,
it is possible. If one knows that it is possible that six is the
smallest perfect number, then one has good reason to believe that.
Does one have reason to think it is possible that God exists
necessarily? Defenders of the argument answer in the affirmative and
infer that God exists. There have been hundreds of objections and
replies to this argument. Perhaps the most ambitious objection is that
the same sort of reasoning can be used to argue that God cannot exist;
for if it is possible that God not exist and necessary existence is
part of the meaning of "God", then it follows that God
cannot exist.



Classical, alternative versions of the ontological argument are
propounded by Anselm, Spinoza, and Descartes, with current versions by
Alvin Plantinga, Charles Hartshorne, Norman Malcolm, and C. Dore;
classical critics include Gaunilo and Kant, and current critics are
many, including William Rowe, J. Barnes, G. Oppy, and J. L. Mackie.
The latest book-length treatments of the ontological argument are two
defenses: *Rethinking the Ontological Argument* by Daniel
Dombrowski (2006) and Yujin Nagasawa's *Maximal God; A New
Defence of Perfect Being Theism* (2017). Not every advocate of
perfect being theology embraces the ontological argument. Famously
Thomas Aquinas did not accept the ontological argument. Alvin
Plantinga, who is one of the philosophers responsible for the revival
of interest in the ontological argument, contends that while he,
personally, takes the argument to be sound (because he believes that
the conclusion that God exists necessarily is true, which entails that
the premise, that it is possible that God exists necessarily is true)
he does not think the argument has sufficient force to convince an
atheist. (Plantinga 1974: 216-217) For a recent new contribution
to the ontological argument, see Brian Leftow's
*Anselm's Argument; Divine Necessity* . 


#### 5.2.2 Cosmological arguments



Arguments in this vein are more firmly planted in empirical, *a
posteriori* reflection than the ontological argument, but some
versions employ *a priori* reasons as well. There are various
versions. Some argue that the cosmos had an initial cause outside it,
a First Cause in time. Others argue that the cosmos has a necessary,
sustaining cause from instant to instant, whether or not the cosmos
had a temporal origin. The two versions are not mutually exclusive,
for it is possible both that the cosmos had a First Cause and that it
has a continuous, sustaining cause.



The cosmological argument relies on the intelligibility of the notion
of there being at least one powerful being which is self-existing or
whose origin and continued being does not depend on any other being.
This could be either the all-out necessity of supreme pre-eminence
across all possible worlds used in versions of the ontological
argument, or a more local, limited notion of a being that is uncaused
in the actual world. If successful, the argument would provide reason
for thinking there is at least one such being of extraordinary power
responsible for the existence of the cosmos. At best, it may not
justify a full picture of the God of religion (a First Cause would be
powerful, but not necessarily omnipotent), but it would nonetheless
challenge naturalistic alternatives and provide some reason theism.
(The later point is analogous to the idea that evidence that there was
some life on another planet would not establish that such life is
intelligent, but it increases--perhaps only slightly--the
hypothesis that there is intelligent life on another planet.)



Both versions of the argument ask us to consider the cosmos in its
present state. Is the world as we know it something that necessarily
exists? At least with respect to ourselves, the planet, the solar
system and the galaxy, it appears not. With respect to these items in
the cosmos, it makes sense to ask why they exist rather than not. In
relation to scientific accounts of the natural world, such enquiries
into causes make abundant sense and are perhaps even essential
presuppositions of the natural sciences. Some proponents of the
argument contend that we know *a priori* that if something
exists there is a reason for its existence. So, why does the cosmos
exist? Arguably, if explanations of the contingent existence of the
cosmos (or states of the cosmos) are only in terms of other contingent
things (earlier states of the cosmos, say), then a full cosmic
explanation will never be attained. However, if there is at least one
necessarily (non-contingent) being causally responsible for the
cosmos, the cosmos does have an explanation. At this point the two
versions of the argument divide.



Arguments to a First Cause in time contend that a continuous temporal
regress from one contingent existence to another would never account
for the existence of the cosmos, and they conclude that it is more
reasonable to accept there was a First Cause than to accept either a
regress or the claim that the cosmos just came into being from
nothing. Arguments to a sustaining cause of the cosmos claim that
explanations of why something exists now cannot be adequate without
assuming a present, contemporaneous sustaining cause. The arguments
have been based on the denial of all actual infinities or on the
acceptance of some infinities (for instance, the coherence of
supposing there to be infinitely many stars) combined with the
rejection of an infinite regress of explanations solely involving
contingent states of affairs. The latter has been described as a
vicious regress as opposed to one that is benign. There are plausible
examples of vicious infinite regresses that do not generate
explanations: for instance, imagine that Tom explains his possession
of a book by reporting that he got it from *A* who got it from
*B*, and so on to infinity. This would not explain how Tom got
the book. Alternatively, imagine a mirror with light reflected in it.
Would the presence of light be successfully explained if one claimed
that the light was a reflection of light from another mirror, and the
light in that mirror came from yet another mirror, and so on to
infinity? Consider a final case. You come across a word you do not
understand; let it be "ongggt". You ask its meaning and
are given another word which is unintelligible to you, and so on,
forming an infinite regress. Would you ever know the meaning of the
first term? The force of these cases is to show how similar they are
to the regress of contingent explanations.



Versions of the argument that reject all actual infinities face the
embarrassment of explaining what is to be made of the First Cause,
especially since it might have some features that are actually
infinite. In reply, Craig and others have contended that they have no
objection to potential infinities (although the First Cause will never
cease to be, it will never become an actual infinity). They further
accept that prior to the creation, the First Cause was not in time, a
position relying on the theory that time is relational rather than
absolute. The current scientific popularity of the relational view may
offer support to defenders of the argument.



It has been objected that both versions of the cosmological argument
set out an inflated picture of what explanations are reasonable. Why
should the cosmos as a whole need an explanation? If everything in the
cosmos can be explained, albeit through infinite, regressive accounts,
what is left to explain? One may reply either by denying that infinite
regresses actually do satisfactorily explain, or by charging that the
failure to seek an explanation for the whole is arbitrary. The
question, "Why is there a cosmos?" seems a perfectly
intelligible one. If there are accounts for things in the cosmos, why
not for the whole? The argument is not built on the fallacy of
treating every whole as having all the properties of its parts. But if
everything in the cosmos is contingent, it seems just as reasonable to
believe that the whole cosmos is contingent as it is to believe that
if everything in the cosmos were invisible, the cosmos as a whole
would be invisible.



Another objection is that rather than explaining the contingent
cosmos, the cosmological argument introduces a mysterious entity of
which we can make very little philosophical or scientific sense. How
can positing at least one First Cause provide a better account of the
cosmos than simply concluding that the cosmos lacks an ultimate
account? In the end, the theist seems bound to admit that why the
First Cause created at all was a contingent matter. If, on the
contrary, the theist has to claim that the First Cause had to do what
it did, would not the cosmos be necessary rather than contingent?



Some theists come close to concluding that it was indeed essential
that God created the cosmos. If God is supremely good, there had to be
some overflowing of goodness in the form of a cosmos (see Stump &
Kretzmann 1981, on the ideas of Dionysius the Areopagite; see Rowe
2004 for arguments that God is not free). But theists typically
reserve some role for the freedom of God and thus seek to retain the
idea that the cosmos is contingent. Defenders of the cosmological
argument still contend that its account of the cosmos has a
comprehensive simplicity lacking in alternative views. God's
choices may be contingent, but not God's existence and the
Divine choice of creating the cosmos can be understood to be
profoundly simple in its supreme, overriding endeavor, namely to
create something good. Swinburne has argued that accounting for
natural laws in terms of God's will provides for a simple,
overarching framework within which to comprehend the order and
purposive character of the cosmos (see also Foster 2004).



Defenders of the cosmological argument include Swinburne, Richard
Taylor, Hugo Meynell, Timothy O'Connor, Bruce Reichenbach,
Robert Koons, Alexander Pruss, and William Rowe; prominent opponents
include Antony Flew, Michael Martin, Howard Sobel, Graham Oppy,
Nicholas Everitt, and J. L Mackie. While Rowe had defended the
cosmological argument, his reservations about the principle of
sufficient reason prevents his accepting the argument as fully
satisfying.


#### 5.2.3 Teleological arguments



These arguments focus on characteristics of the cosmos that seem to
reflect the design or intentionality of God or, more modestly, of one
or more powerful, intelligent God-like, purposive forces. Part of the
argument may be formulated as providing evidence that the cosmos is
the sort of reality that would be produced by an intelligent being,
and then arguing that positing this source is more reasonable than
agnosticism or denying it. As in the case of the cosmological
argument, the defender of the teleological argument may want to claim
it only provides *some reason* for thinking there is a God. It
may be that some kind of cumulative case for theism would require
construing various arguments as mutually reinforcing. If successful in
arguing for an intelligent, trans-cosmos cause, the teleological
argument may provide some reason for thinking that the First Cause of
the cosmological argument (if it is successful) is purposive, while
the ontological argument (if it has some probative force) may provides
some reason for thinking that it makes sense to posit a being that has
Divine attributes and necessarily exists. Behind all of them an
argument from religious experience (to be addressed below) may provide
some reasons to seek further support for a religious conception of the
cosmos and to question the adequacy of naturalism.



One version of the teleological argument will depend on the
intelligibility of purposive explanation. In our own human case it
appears that intentional, purposive explanations are legitimate and
can truly account for the nature and occurrence of events. In thinking
about an explanation for the ultimate character of the cosmos, is it
more likely for the cosmos to be accounted for in terms of a powerful,
intelligent agent or in terms of a naturalistic scheme of final laws
with no intelligence behind them? Theists employing the teleological
argument draw attention to the order and stability of the cosmos, the
emergence of vegetative and animal life, the existence of
consciousness, morality, rational agents and the like, in an effort to
identify what might plausibly be seen as purposive explicable features
of the cosmos. Naturalistic explanations, whether in biology or
physics, are then cast as being comparatively local in application
when held up against the broader schema of a theistic metaphysics.
Darwinian accounts of biological evolution will not necessarily assist
us in thinking through why there are either any such laws or any
organisms to begin with. Arguments supporting and opposing the
teleological argument will then resemble arguments about the
cosmological argument, with the negative side contending that there is
no need to move beyond a naturalistic account, and the positive side
aiming to establish that failing to go beyond naturalism is
unreasonable.



In assessing the teleological argument, consider the objection from
uniqueness. The cosmos is utterly unique. There is no access to
multiple universes, some of which are known to be designed and some
are known not to be. Without being able o compare the cosmos to
alternative sets of cosmic worlds, the argument fails. Replies to this
objection have contended that were we to insist that inferences in
unique cases are out of order, then this would rule out otherwise
respectable scientific accounts of the origin of the cosmos. Besides,
while it is not possible to compare the layout of different cosmic
histories, it is in principle possible to envisage worlds that seem
chaotic, random, or based on laws that cripple the emergence of life.
Now we can envisage an intelligent being creating such worlds, but,
through considering their features, we can articulate some marks of
purposive design to help judge whether the cosmos is more reasonably
believed to be designed rather than not designed. Some critics appeal
to the possibility that the cosmos has an infinite history to bolster
and re-introduce the uniqueness objection. Given infinite time and
chance, it seems likely that something like our world will come into
existence, with all its appearance of design. If so, why should we
take it to be so shocking that our world has its apparent design, and
why should explaining the world require positing one or more
intelligent designers? Replies repeat the earlier move of insisting
that if the objection were to be decisive, then many seemingly
respectable accounts would also have to fall by the wayside. It is
often conceded that the teleological argument does not demonstrate
that one or more designers are required; it seeks rather to establish
that positing such purposive intelligence is reasonable and preferable
to naturalism. Recent defenders of the argument include George
Schlesinger, Robin Collins, and Richard Swinburne. It is rejected by
J. L. Mackie, Michael Martin, Nicholas Everitt, and many others.



One feature of the teleological argument currently receiving increased
attention focuses on epistemology. It has been argued by Richard
Taylor (1963), Alvin Plantinga (2011 and in Beilby 2002), and others
that if we reasonably rely on our cognitive faculties, it is
reasonable to believe that these are not brought about by naturalistic
forces--forces that are entirely driven by chance or are the
outcome of processes not formed by an overriding intelligence. An
illustration may help to understand the argument. Imagine Tom coming
across what appears to be a sign reporting some information about his
current altitude (some rocks in a configuration giving him his current
location and precise height above sea-level in meters). If he had
reason to believe that this "sign" was totally the result
of chance configurations, would he be reasonable to trust it? Some
theists argue that it would not be reasonable, and that trusting our
cognitive faculties requires us to accept that they were formed by an
overarching, good, creative agent. This rekindles Descartes'
point about relying on the goodness of God to ensure that our
cognitive faculties are in good working order. Objections to this
argument center on naturalistic explanations, especially those
friendly to evolution. In evolutionary epistemology, one tries to
account for the reliability of cognitive faculties in terms of trial
and error leading to survival. A rejoinder by theists is that survival
alone is not necessarily linked to true beliefs. It could, in
principle, be false beliefs that enhance survival. In fact, some
atheists think that believing in God has been crucial to
people's survival, though the belief is radically false.
Evolutionary epistemologists reply that the lack of a
*necessary* link between beliefs that promote survival and
truth and the fact that some false beliefs or unreliable belief
producing mechanisms promote survival nor falls far short of
undermining evolutionary epistemology. See Martin (1990), Mackie
(1983), and Tooley (see Tooley's chapters 2, 4, and 6 in
Plantinga & Tooley 2008), among others, object to the epistemic
teleological argument.



Another recent development in teleological argumentation has involved
an argument from fine-tuning.



Fine tuning arguments contend that life would not exist were it not
for the fact that multiple physical parameters (e.g., the cosmological
constant and the ratio of the mass of the neutron to the mass of the
proton) have numerical values that fall within a range of values known
to be life-permitting that is very narrow compared to the range of
values that are compatible with current physical theory and are known
to be life-prohibiting. For example, even minor changes to the nuclear
weak force would not have allowed for stars, nor would stars have
endured if the ratio of electromagnetism to gravity had been much
different. John Leslie observes: 



> 
> 
> Alterations by less than one part in a billion to the expansion speed
> early in the Big Bang would have led to runaway expansion, everything
> quickly becoming so dilute that no stars could have formed, or else to
> gravitational collapse inside under a second. (Leslie 2007: 76) 
> 
> 
> 



Robin Collins and others have argued that theism better accounts for
the fine tuning than naturalism (see Collins 2009; for criticism of
the argument, see Craig & Smith 1993). For a collection of
articles covering both sides of the debate and both biological and
cosmological design arguments, see Manson 2003.



A more sustained objection against virtually all versions of the
teleological argument takes issue with the assumption that the cosmos
is good or that it is the sort of thing that would be brought about by
an intelligent, completely benevolent being. This leads us directly to
the next central concern of the philosophy of God. 


#### 5.2.4 Problems of evil



If there is a God who is omnipotent, omniscient, and completely good,
why is there evil? The problem of evil is the most widely considered
objection to theism in both Western and Eastern philosophy. There are
two general versions of the problem: the deductive or logical version,
which asserts that the existence of any evil at all (regardless of its
role in producing good) is incompatible with God's existence;
and the probabilistic version, which asserts that given the quantity
and severity of evil that actually exists, it is unlikely that God
exists. The deductive problem is currently less commonly debated
because many (but not all) philosophers acknowledge that a thoroughly
good being might allow or inflict some harm under certain morally
compelling conditions (such as causing a child pain when removing a
splinter). More intense debate concerns the likelihood (or even
possibility) that there is a completely good God given the vast amount
of evil in the cosmos. Such evidential arguments from evil may be
deductive or inductive arguments but they include some attempt to show
that some known fact about evil bears a negative evidence relation to
theism (e.g., it lowers its probability or renders it improbable)
whether or not it is logically incompatible with theism. Consider
human and animal suffering caused by death, predation, birth defects,
ravaging diseases, virtually unchecked human wickedness, torture,
rape, oppression, and "natural disasters". Consider how
often those who suffer are innocent. Why should there be so much
gratuitous, apparently pointless evil?



In the face of the problem of evil, some philosophers and theologians
deny that God is all-powerful and all-knowing. John Stuart Mill took
this line, and panentheist theologians today also question the
traditional treatments of Divine power. According to panentheism, God
is immanent in the world, suffering with the oppressed and working to
bring good out of evil, although in spite of God's efforts, evil
will invariably mar the created order. Another response is to think of
God as being very different from a moral agent. Brian Davies and
others have contended that what it means for God to be good is
different from what it means for an agent to be morally good (Davies
2006). See also Mark Murphy's 2017 book *God's Own
Ethics; Norms of Divine Agency and the Argument from Evil*. A
different, more substantial strategy is to deny the existence of evil,
but it is difficult to reconcile traditional monotheism with moral
skepticism. Also, insofar as we believe there to be a God worthy of
worship and a fitting object of human love, the appeal to moral
skepticism will carry little weight. The idea that evil is a privation
or twisting of the good may have some currency in thinking through the
problem of evil, but it is difficult to see how it alone could go very
far to vindicate belief in God's goodness. Searing pain and
endless suffering seem altogether real even if they are analyzed as
being philosophically parasitic on something valuable. The three great
monotheistic, Abrahamic traditions, with their ample insistence on the
reality of evil, offer little reason to try to defuse the problem of
evil by this route. Indeed, classical Judaism, Christianity, and Islam
are so committed to the existence of evil that a reason to reject evil
would be a reason to reject these religious traditions. What would be
the point of the Judaic teaching about the Exodus (God liberating the
people of Israel from slavery), or the Christian teaching about the
incarnation (Christ revealing God as love and releasing a Divine power
that will, in the end, conquer death), or the Islamic teaching of
Mohammed (the holy prophet of Allah, whom is all-just and
all-merciful) if slavery, hate, death, and injustice did not
exist?



In part, the magnitude of the difficulty one takes the problem of evil
to pose for theism will depend upon one's commitments in other
areas of philosophy, especially ethics, epistemology, and metaphysics.
If in ethics you hold that there should be no preventable suffering
for any reason, regardless of the cause or consequence, then the
problem of evil will conflict with your acceptance of traditional
theism. Moreover, if you hold that any solution to the problem of evil
should be evident to all persons, then again traditional theism is in
jeopardy, for clearly the "solution" is not evident to
all. Debate has largely centered on the legitimacy of adopting some
middle position: a theory of values that would preserve a clear
assessment of the profound evil in the cosmos as well as some
understanding of how this might be compatible with the existence of an
all powerful, completely good Creator. Could there be reasons why God
would permit cosmic ills? If we do not know what those reasons might
be, are we in a position to conclude that there are none or that there
could not be any? Exploring different possibilities will be shaped by
one's metaphysics. For example, if you do not believe there is
free will, then you will not be moved by any appeal to the positive
value of free will and its role in bringing about good as offsetting
its role in bringing about evil.



Theistic responses to the problem of evil distinguish between a
defense and a theodicy. A defense seeks to establish that rational
belief that God exists is still possible (when the defense is employed
against the logical version of the problem of evil) and that the
existence of evil does not make it improbable that God exists (when
used against the probabilistic version). Some have adopted the defense
strategy while arguing that we are in a position to have rational
belief in the existence of evil and in a completely good God who hates
this evil, even though we may be unable to see how these two beliefs
are compatible. A theodicy is more ambitious and is typically part of
a broader project, arguing that it is reasonable to believe that God
exists on the basis of the good as well as the evident evil of the
cosmos. In a theodicy, the project is not to account for each and
every evil, but to provide an overarching framework within which to
understand at least roughly how the evil that occurs is part of some
overall good--for instance, the overcoming of evil is itself a
great good. In practice, a defense and a theodicy often appeal to
similar factors, the first and foremost being what many call the
Greater Good Defense.


#### 5.2.5 Evil and the greater good



In the Greater Good Defense, it is contended that evil can be
understood as either a necessary accompaniment to bringing about
greater goods or an integral part of these goods. Thus, in a version
often called the Free Will Defense, it is proposed that free creatures
who are able to care for each other and whose welfare depends on each
other's freely chosen action constitute a good. For this good to
be realized, it is argued, there must be the *bona fide*
possibility of persons harming each other. The free will defense is
sometimes used narrowly only to cover evil that occurs as a result,
direct or indirect, of human action. But it has been speculatively
extended by those proposing a defense rather than a theodicy to cover
other evils which might be brought about by supernatural agents other
than God. According to the Greater Good case, evil provides an
opportunity to realize great values, such as the virtues of courage
and the pursuit of justice. Reichenbach (1982), Tennant (1930),
Swinburne (1979), and van Inwagen (2006) have also underscored the
good of a stable world of natural laws in which animals and humans
learn about the cosmos and develop autonomously, independent of the
certainty that God exists. Some atheists accord value to the good of
living in a world without God, and these views have been used by
theists to back up the claim that God might have had reason to create
a cosmos in which Divine existence is not overwhelmingly obvious to
us. If God's existence were overwhelmingly obvious, then
motivations to virtue might be clouded by self-interest and by the
bare fear of offending an omnipotent being. Further, there may even be
some good to acting virtuously even if circumstances guarantee a
tragic outcome. John Hick (1966 [1977]) so argued and has developed
what he construes to be an Irenaean approach to the problem of evil
(named after St. Irenaeus of the second century). On this approach, it
is deemed good that humanity develops the life of virtue gradually,
evolving to a life of grace, maturity, and love. This contrasts with a
theodicy associated with St. Augustine, according to which God made us
perfect and then allowed us to fall into perdition, only to be
redeemed later by Christ. Hick thinks the Augustinian model fails
whereas the Irenaean one is credible.



Some have based an argument from the problem of evil on the charge
that this is not the best possible world. If there were a supreme,
maximally excellent God, surely God would bring about the best
possible creation. Because this is not the best possible creation,
there is no supreme, maximally excellent God. Following Adams (1987),
many now reply that the whole notion of a best possible world, like
the highest possible number, is incoherent. For any world that can be
imagined with such and such happiness, goodness, virtue and so on, a
higher one can be imagined. If the notion of a best possible world is
incoherent, would this count against belief that there could be a
supreme, maximally excellent being? It has been argued on the contrary
that Divine excellences admit of upper limits or maxima that are not
quantifiable in a serial fashion (for example, Divine omnipotence
involves being able to do anything logically or metaphysically
possible, but does not require actually doing the greatest number of
acts or a series of acts of which there can be no more).



Those concerned with the problem of evil clash over the question of
how one assesses the likelihood of Divine existence. Someone who
reports seeing no point to the existence of evil or no justification
for God to allow it seems to imply that if there were a point they
would see it. Note the difference between seeing no point and not
seeing a point. In the cosmic case, is it clear that if there were a
reason justifying the existence of evil, we would see it? William Rowe
thinks some plausible understanding of God's justificatory
reason for allowing the evil should be detectable, but that there are
cases of evil that are altogether gratuitous. Defenders like William
Hasker (1989) and Stephen Wykstra (1984) reply that these cases are
not decisive counter-examples to the claim that there is a good God.
These philosophers hold that we can recognize evil and grasp our duty
to do all in our power to prevent or alleviate it. But we should not
take our failure to see what reason God might have for allowing evil
to count as grounds for thinking that there is no reason. This later
move has led to a position commonly called *skeptical theism*.
Michael Bergmann, Michael Rea, William Alston and others have argued
that we have good reason to be skeptical about whether we can assess
whether ostensibly gratuitous evils may or may not be permitted by an
all-good God (Bergmann 2012a and 2012b, 2001; Bergmann & Rea 2005;
for criticism see Almeida & Oppy 2003; Draper 2014, 2013, 1996).
Overall, it needs to be noted that from the alleged fact that we would
be unlikely to see a reason for God to allow some evil if there were
one, it only follows that our failure to see such a reason is not
strong evidence against theism.



For an interesting practical application of the traditional problem of
evil to the topic of the ethics of procreation, see Marsh 2015. It has
been argued that if one does believe that the world is not good, then
that can provide a *prima facie* reason against procreation.
Why should one bring children into a world that is not good? Another
interesting, recent development in the philosophy of religion
literature has been the engagement of philosophers with ostensible
evils that God commands in the Bible (see Bergmann, Murray, & Rea
2010). For a fascinating engagement with the problem of evil that
employs Biblical narratives, see Eleonore Stumps' *Wandering
in Darkness* (2010). The treatment of the problem of evil has also
extended to important reflection on the suffering of non-human animals
(see S. Clark 1987, 1995, 2017; Murray 2008; Meister 2018). Problems
raised by evil and suffering are multifarious and are being addressed
by contemporary philosophers across the religious and non-religious
spectrums. See, for example, *The History of Evil* edited by
Meister and Taliaferro, in six volumes with over 130 contributors from
virtually all religious and secular points of view, and the recent
*The Cambridge Companion to the Problem of Evil* edited by
Meister and Moser (2017).



Some portraits of an afterlife seem to have little bearing on our
response to the magnitude of evil here and now. Does it help to
understand why God allows evil if all victims will receive happiness
later? But it is difficult to treat the possibility of an afterlife as
entirely irrelevant. Is death the annihilation of persons or an event
involving a transfiguration to a higher state? If you do not think
that it matters whether persons continue to exist after death, then
such speculation is of little consequence. But suppose that the
afterlife is understood as being morally intertwined with this life,
with opportunity for moral and spiritual reformation, transfiguration
of the wicked, rejuvenation and occasions for new life, perhaps even
reconciliation and communion between oppressors seeking forgiveness
and their victims. Then these considerations might help to defend
against arguments based on the existence of evil. Insofar as one
cannot rule out the possibility of an afterlife morally tied to our
life, one cannot rule out the possibility that God brings some good
out of cosmic ills. For two recent arguments against a positive
theistic appeal to an afterlife, see Sterba 2019 141-156, and
Ekstrom 2021;131-155 -- compare with Mawson 2016. 



The most recent work on the afterlife in philosophy of religion has
focused on the compatibility of an individual afterlife with some
forms of physicalism. Arguably, a dualist treatment of human persons
is more promising. If you are not metaphysically identical with your
body, then perhaps the annihilation of your body is not the
annihilation of you. Today, a range of philosophers have argued that
even if physicalism is true, an afterlife is still possible (Peter van
Inwagen, Lynne Baker, Trenton Merricks, Kevin Corcoran). The import of
this work for the problem of evil is that the possible redemptive
value of an afterlife should not be ruled out (without argument) if
one assumes physicalism to be true. (For an extraordinary, rich
resource on the relevant literature, see *The Oxford Handbook of
Eschatology*, edited by J. Walls, 2007.)


#### 5.2.6 Religious experience



Perhaps the justification most widely offered for religious belief
concerns the occurrence of religious experience or the cumulative
weight of testimony of those claiming to have had religious
experiences. Putting the latter case in theistic terms, the argument
appeals to the fact that many people have testified that they have
felt God's presence. Does such testimony provide evidence that
God exists? That it is evidence has been argued by Jerome Gellman,
Keith Yandell, William Alston, Caroline Davis, Gary Gutting, Kai-Man
Kwan, Richard Swinburne, Charles Taliaferro, and others. That it is
not (or that its evidential force is trivial) is argued by Michael
Martin, J. L. Mackie, Kai Nielson, Matthew Bagger, John Schellenberg,
William Rowe, Graham Oppy, and others. In an effort to stimulate
further investigation, consider the following sketch of some of the
moves and countermoves in the debate. 



**Objection:** Religious experience cannot be experience
of God for perceptual experience is only sensory and if God is
non-physical, God cannot be sensed.



**Reply:** The thesis that perceptual experience is only
sensory can be challenged. Yandell marks out some experiences (as when
one has "a feeling" someone is present but without having
any accompanying sensations) that might provide grounds for
questioning a narrow sensory notion of perceptual experience.



**Objection:** Testimony to have experienced God is only
testimony that one thinks one has experienced God; it is only
testimony of a conviction, not evidence.



**Reply:** The literature on religious experience
testifies to the existence of experience of some Divine being on the
basis of which the subject comes to think the experience is of God. If
read charitably, the testimony is not testimony to a conviction, but
to experiences that form the grounds for the conviction. (See Bagger
1999 for a vigorous articulation of this objection, and note the reply
by Kai-man Kwam 2003).



**Objection:** Because religious experience is unique,
how could one ever determine whether it is reliable? We simply lack
the ability to examine the object of religious experience in order to
test whether the reported experiences are indeed reliable.



**Reply:** As we learned from Descartes, all our
experiences of external objects face a problem of uniqueness. It is
possible in principle that all our senses are mistaken and we do not
have the public, embodied life we think we lead. We cannot step out of
our own subjectivity to vindicate our ordinary perceptual beliefs any
more than in the religious case. (See the debate between William
Alston [2004] and Evan Fales [2004]).



**Objection:** Reports of religious experience differ
radically and the testimony of one religious party neutralizes the
testimony of others. The testimony of Hindus cancels out the testimony
of Christians. The testimony of atheists to experience God's
absence cancels out the testimony of "believers".



**Reply:** Several replies might be offered here.
Testimony to experience the absence of God might be better understood
as testimony not to experience God. Failing to experience God might be
justification for believing that there is no God only to the extent
that we have reason to believe that if God exists God would be
experienced by all. Theists might even appeal to the claim by many
atheists that it can be virtuous to live ethically with atheist
beliefs. Perhaps if there is a God, God does not think this is
altogether bad, and actually desires religious belief to be fashioned
under conditions of trust and faith rather than knowledge. The
diversity of religious experiences has caused some defenders of the
argument from religious experience to mute their conclusion. Thus,
Gutting (1982) contends that the argument is not strong enough to
fully vindicate a specific religious tradition, but that it is strong
enough to overturn an anti-religious naturalism. Other defenders use
their specific tradition to deal with ostensibly competing claims
based on different sorts of religious experiences. Theists have
proposed that more impersonal experiences of the Divine represent only
one aspect of God. God is a person or is person-like, but God can also
be experienced, for example, as sheer luminous unity. Hindus have
claimed the experience of God as personal is only one stage in the
overall journey of the soul to truth, the highest truth being that
Brahman transcends personhood. (For a discussion of these objections
and replies and references, see Taliaferro 1998.)



How one settles the argument will depend on one's overall
convictions in many areas of philosophy. The holistic, interwoven
nature of both theistic and atheistic arguments can be readily
illustrated. If you diminish the implications of religious experience
and have a high standard regarding the burden of proof for any sort of
religious outlook, then it is highly likely that the classical
arguments for God's existence will not be persuasive. Moreover,
if one thinks that theism can be shown to be intellectually confused
from the start, then theistic arguments from religious experience will
carry little weight. Testimony to have experienced God will have no
more weight than testimony to have experienced a round square, and
non-religious explanations of religious experience--like those of
Freud (a result of wish-fulfillment), Marx (a reflection of the
economic base), or Durkheim (a product of social forces)--will
increase their appeal. If, on the other hand, you think the theistic
picture is coherent and that the testimony of religious experience
provides some evidence for theism, then your assessment of the
classical theistic arguments might be more favorable, for they would
serve to corroborate and further support what you already have some
reason to believe. From such a vantage point, appeal to
wish-fulfillment, economics, and social forces might have a role, but
the role is to explain why some parties do not have experiences of God
and to counter the charge that failure to have such experiences
provides evidence that there is no religious reality. (For an
excellent collection of recent work on explaining the emergence and
continuation of religious experience, see Schloss & Murray (eds.)
2009.)



There is not space to cover the many other arguments for and against
the existence of God, but several additional arguments are briefly
noted. The argument from miracles starts from specific extraordinary
events, arguing that they provide reasons for believing there to be a
supernatural agent or, more modestly, reasons for skepticism about the
sufficiency of a naturalistic world view. The argument has attracted
much philosophical attention, especially since David Hume's
rejection of miracles. The debate has turned mainly on how one defines
a miracle, understands the laws of nature, and specifies the
principles of evidence that govern the explanation of highly unusual
historical occurrences. There is considerable debate over whether
Hume's case against miracles simply begs the question against
"believers". Detailed exposition is impossible in this
short entry. Taliaferro has argued elsewhere that Hume's case
against the rationality of belief in miracles is best seen as part of
his overall case for a form of naturalism (Taliaferro 2005b).



There are various arguments that are advanced to motivate religious
belief. One of the most interesting and popular is a wager argument
often associated with Pascal (1623-1662). It is designed to
offer practical reasons to cultivate a belief in God. Imagine that you
are unsure whether there is or is not a God. You have it within your
power to live on either assumption and perhaps, through various
practices, to get yourself to believe one or the other. There would be
good consequences of believing in God even if your belief were false,
and if the belief were true you would receive even greater good. There
would also be good consequences of believing that there is no God, but
in this case the consequences would not alter if you were correct. If,
however, you believe that there is no God and you are wrong, then you
would risk losing the many goods which follow from the belief that God
exists and from actual Divine existence. On this basis, it may seem
reasonable to believe there is a God.



In different forms the argument may be given a rough edge (for
example, imagine that if you do not believe in God and there is a God,
hell is waiting). It may be put as an appeal to individual
self-interest (you will be better off) or more generally (believers
whose lives are bound together can realize some of the goods
comprising a mature religious life). Objectors worry about whether one
ever is able to bring choices down to just such a narrow
selection--for example, to choose either theism or naturalism.
Some think the argument is too thoroughly egotistic and thus offensive
to religion. Many of these objections have generated some plausible
replies (Rescher 1985). (For a thoroughgoing exploration of the
relevant arguments, see the collection of essays edited by Jeffrey
Jordan (1994).)



Recent work on Pascalian wagering has a bearing on work on the nature
of faith (is it voluntary or involuntary?), its value (when, if ever,
is it a virtue?), and relation to evidence (insofar as faith involves
belief, is it possible to have faith without evidence?). For an
overview and promising analysis, see Chappell (1996), Swinburne
(1979), Schellenberg (2005), and Rota (2016). A promising feature of
such new work is that it is often accompanied by a rich understanding
of revelation that is not limited to a sacred scripture, but sees a
revelatory role in scripture plus the history of its interpretation,
the use of creeds, icons, and so on (see the work of William Abraham
[1998]).



A burgeoning question in recent years is whether the cognitive science
of religion (CSR) has significance for the truth or rationality of
religious commitment. According to CSR, belief in supernatural agents
appears to be cognitively natural (Barrett 2004, Kelemen 2004, Dennett
2006, De Cruz, H., & De Smedt, J. 2010) and easy to spread (Boyer
2001). The naturalness of religion thesis has led some, including
Alvin Plantinga it seems (2011: 60), to imply that we have scientific
evidence for Calvin's *sensus divinitatis*. But others
have argued that CSR can intensify the problem of divine hiddenness,
since diverse religious concepts are cognitively natural and early
humans seem to have lacked anything like a theistic concept (Marsh
2013). There are many other questions being investigated about CSR,
such as whether it provides a debunking challenge to religion (Murray
& Schloss 2009), whether it poses a cultural challenge for
religious outlooks like Schellenberg's Ultimism (Marsh 2014),
and whether it challenges human dignity (Audi 2013). Needless to say,
at the present time, there is nothing like a clear consensus on
whether CSR should be seen as worrisome, welcome, or neither, by
religious believers.



For some further work on the framework of assessing the evidence for
and against theism (and other religious and secular worldviews) see C.
S. Evans 2010, Chandler and Harrison 2012. In the last twenty years
there has been increasing attention given to the aesthetic dimension
of arguments for and against religiously significant conceptions of
ultimate reality and of the meaning of life (see Brown 2004; Wynn
2013; Hedley 2016; Mawson 2016; Taliaferro & Evans 2010, 2013,
2021).

 For its breadth and nuanced use of philosophy and
aesthetics, see Anthony O'Hear's 2020 work
*Transcendence, Creation and Incarnation*.

## 6. Religious Pluralism



In the midst of the new work on religious traditions, there has been a
steady, growing representation of non-monotheistic traditions. An
early proponent of this expanded format was Ninian Smart
(1927-2001), who, through many publications, scholarly as well
as popular, secured philosophies of Hinduism and Buddhism as
components in the standard canon of English-speaking philosophy of
religion. 



Smart championed the thesis that there are genuine differences between
religious traditions. He therefore resisted seeing some core
experience as capturing the essential identity of being religious.
Under Smart's tutelage, there has been considerable growth in
cross-cultural philosophy of religion. Wilfred Cantwell Smith
(1916-2000) also did a great deal to improve the representation
of non-Western religions and reflection. See, for example, the
Routledge series *Investigating Philosophy of Religion* with
Routledge with volumes already published or forthcoming on Buddhism
(Burton 2017), Hinduism (Ranganathan 2018), Daoism, and Confucianism.
The five volume *Encyclopedia of Philosophy of Religion*
(mentioned earlier) to be published by Wiley Blackwell (projected for
2021) will have ample contributions on the widest spectrum of
philosophical treatments of diverse religions to date.



The explanation of philosophy of religion has involved fresh
translations of philosophical and religious texts from India, China,
Southeast Asia, and Africa. Exceptional figures from non-Western
traditions have an increased role in cross-cultural philosophy of
religion and religious dialogue. The late Bimal Krishna Matilal
(1935-1991) made salient contributions to enrich Western
exposure to Indian philosophy of religion (see Matilal 1882). Among
the mid-twentieth-century Asian philosophers, two who stand out for
special note are T.R.V. Murti (1955) and S.N. Dasgupta
(1922-1955). Both brought high philosophical standards along
with the essential philology to educate Western thinkers. As evidence
of non-Western productivity in the Anglophone world, see Arvind Sharma
1990 and 1995. There are now extensive treatments of pantheism and
student-friendly guides to diverse religious conceptions of the
cosmos. 



The expanded interest in religious pluralism has led to extensive
reflection on the compatibility and possible synthesis of religions.
John Hick is the preeminent synthesizer of religious traditions. Hick
(1973 a and b)) advanced a complex picture of the afterlife involving
components from diverse traditions. Over many publications and many
years, Hick has moved from a broadly based theistic view of God to
what Hick calls "the Real", a noumenal sacred reality.
Hick claims that different religions provide us with a glimpse or
partial access to the Real. In an influential article, "The New
Map of the Universe of Faiths" (1973a), Hick raised the
possibility that many of the great world religions are revelatory of
the Real. 



> 
> 
> Seen in [an] historical context these movements of faith--the
> Judaic-Christian, the Buddhist, the Hindu, the Muslim--are not
> essentially rivals. They began at different times and in different
> places, and each expanded outwards into the surrounding world of
> primitive natural religion until most of the world was drawn up into
> one or the other of the great revealed faiths. And once this global
> pattern had become established it has ever since remained fairly
> stable... Then in Persia the great prophet Zoroaster appeared;
> China produced Lao-tzu and then the Buddha lived, the Mahavira, the
> founder of the Jain religion and, probably about the end of this
> period, the writing of the Bhagavad Gita; and Greece produced
> Pythagoras and then, ending this golden age, Socrates and Plato. Then
> after the gap of some three hundred years came Jesus of Nazareth and
> the emergence of Christianity; and after another gap the prophet
> Mohammed and the rise of Islam. *The suggestion that we must
> consider is that these were all movements of the divine
> revelation*. (Hick 1989: 136; emphasis added)
> 
> 
> 



Hick sees these traditions, and others as well, as different meeting
points in which a person might be in relation to the same reality or
the Real: 



> 
> 
> The great world faiths embody different perceptions and conceptions
> of, and correspondingly different responses to, the Real from within
> the major variant ways of being human; and that within each of them
> the transformation of human existence from self-centeredness to
> Reality-centeredness is taking place. (1989: 240) 
> 
> 
> 



Hick uses Kant to develop his central thesis. 



> 
> 
> Kant distinguishes between noumenon and phenomenon, or between a
> *Ding an sich* [the thing itself] and the thing as it appears
> to human consciousness.... In this strand of Kant's
> thought--not the only strand, but the one which I am seeking to
> press into service in the epistemology of religion--the noumenal
> world exists independently of our perception of it and the phenomenal
> world is that same world as it appears to our human
> consciousness.... I want to say that the noumenal Real is
> experienced and thought by different human mentalities, forming and
> formed by different religious traditions, as the range of gods and
> absolutes which the phenomenology of religion reports. (1989:
> 241-242)
> 
> 
> 



One advantage of Hick's position is that it undermines a
rationale for religious conflict. If successful, this approach would
offer a way to accommodate diverse communities and undermine what has
been a source of grave conflict in the past. 



Hick's work since the early 1980s provided an impetus for not
taking what appears to be religious conflict as outright
contradictions. He advanced a philosophy of religion that paid careful
attention to the historical and social context. By doing so, Hick
thought that apparently conflicting descriptions of the sacred could
be reconciled as representing different perspectives on the same
reality, the Real (see Hick 2004, 2006).



The response to Hick's proposal has been mixed. Some contend
that the very concept of "the Real" is incoherent or not
religiously adequate. Indeed, articulating the nature of the Real is
no easy task. Hick writes that the Real 



> 
> 
> cannot be said to be one thing or many, person or thing, substance or
> process, good or bad, purposive or non-purposive. None of the concrete
> descriptions that apply within the realm of human experience can apply
> literally to the unexperienceable ground of that realm.... We
> cannot even speak of this as a thing or an entity. (1989: 246). 
> 
> 
> 



It has been argued that Hick has secured not the equal acceptability
of diverse religions but rather their unacceptability. In their
classical forms, Judaism, Islam, and Christianity diverge. If, say,
the Incarnation of God in Christ did not occur, isn't
Christianity false? In reply, Hick has sought to interpret specific
claims about the Incarnation in ways that do not commit Christians to
the "literal truth" of God becoming enfleshed. The
"truth" of the Incarnation has been interpreted in such
terms as these: in Jesus Christ (or in the narratives about Christ)
God is disclosed. Or: Jesus Christ was so united with God's will
that his actions were and are the functional display of God's
character. Perhaps as a result of Hick's challenge,
philosophical work on the incarnation and other beliefs and practice
specific to religious traditions have received renewed attention (see,
for example, Taliaferro and Meister 2009). Hick has been a leading,
widely appreciated force in the expansion of philosophy of religion in
the late twentieth century. 



In addition to the expansion of philosophy of religion to take into
account a wider set of religions, the field has also seen an expansion
in terms of methodology. Philosophers of religion have re-discovered
medieval philosophy--the new translations and commentaries of
medieval Christian, Jewish, and Islamic texts have blossomed. There is
now a self-conscious, deliberate effort to combine work on the
concepts in religious belief alongside a critical understanding of
their social and political roots (the work of Foucault has been
influential on this point), feminist philosophy of religion has been
especially important in re-thinking what may be called the ethics of
methodology and, as this is in some respects the most current debate
in the field, it is a fitting point to end this entry by highlighting
the work of Pamela Sue Anderson (1955-2017) and others.



Anderson (1997 and 2012) seeks to question respects in which gender
enters into traditional conceptions of God and in their moral and
political repercussions. She also advances a concept of method which
delimits justice and human flourishing. A mark of legitimation of
philosophy should be the extent to which it contributes to human
welfare. In a sense, this is a venerable thesis in some ancient,
specifically Platonic philosophy that envisaged the goal and method of
philosophy in terms of virtue and the good. Feminist philosophy today
is not exclusively a critical undertaking, critiquing
"patriarchy". For a constructive, subtle treatment of
religious contemplation and practice, see Coakley 2002. Another key
movement that is developing has come to be called Continental
Philosophy of Religion. A major advocate of this new turn is John
Caputo. This movement approaches the themes of this entry (the concept
of God, pluralism, religious experience, metaphysics and epistemology)
in light of Heidegger, Derrida, and other continental philosophers.
(For a good representation of this movement, see Caputo 2001 and
Crocket, Putt, & Robins 2014.)