The word ‘existentialism’ has become something of a catchword in religious circles today, and one suspects that it is sometimes a substitute rather than a medium for thought. Most theological teachers must from time to time have received from a pupil an essay in which the words ‘existential’, ‘existentially’ and ‘existentialism’ appear to have been sprinkled from a pepper-pot over an exposition whose meaning would remain unchanged if these words were excised altogether. Nevertheless, usum non tollit abusus, and the following rather unsystematic remarks may perhaps be of some help in elucidating and evaluating a mode of thought and expression which has attracted the interest of some of the more profound, as well as of some of the more superficial, theological and philosophical writers of the present day.

It is fair enough to refer, as Father Clarke does, to the God of the Christians and the Jews as ‘the one infinite Creator of all other things’. It is reasonable to take ‘God’ as a term that has certain conditions associated with it. These conditions fix its meaning. The central conditions associated with ‘God’ are: being infinite or unlimited, eternal, self-existent, the creator of everything that exists other than himself, the being upon whom all other beings are dependent but who depends on nothing himself, being personal, good, loving and holy. These conditions determine our concept of God, determine what could count as a referent for the term ‘God’. In short, God, as John Hick remarks, is conceived in Western Religions ‘as the infinite, eternal, uncreated, personal reality, who has created all that exists other than himself, and who has revealed himself to his human creatures as holy and loving’.

So much has been written in recent years about the philosophy of religion that one might have expected some definite pattern to be emerging from the discussion. In particular, one might have hoped that theists and non-theists would cease to adduce supposedly knock-down arguments against their opposite numbers. But there are still Thomists, commoner in the English-speaking countries than on the Continent of Europe, who seem to think that some purely logical process can settle the matter, and there are still positivists, again more especially in the English-speaking countries, who seem to think that God can be disproved. Professor Kai Nielsen's article does not make that claim in so many words, but he does conclude that the orthodox Christian's use of ‘God’ is the result of a mere confusion of mind and that for the philosopher the question of God should not arise at all or arises only to be dismissed. I hope I have not overstated Nielsen's conclusion (that would be a poor return for his kindness in allowing me a pre-view of his article); his treatment of the vast topic of the ‘human condition’ seems to me so extraordinary that I cannot help wondering whether I have misinterpreted it, most of all as it appears that he is not merely controverting Mr I. M. Crombie but also undertaking to dispose of theism altogether. He seems to think that ‘Flew's challenge’ is the decisive move in this debate, and that Crombie's two attempts to meet it are the only attempts which have to be considered. If this is really the case (as I shall have to suppose in what follows) I find it quite perplexing.

In the past few years philosophers of religion and theologians have devoted much attention to the status of religious statements. There are three main positions: (1) The statements as generally understood are (false) empirical statements. The people who make them have either made honest mistakes (they are unaware of the counter evidence) or they are irrational. This view may be coupled with the claim that religious language can be reconstructed in such a way that we may continue to use it and yet avoid making false assertions. (The position Braithwaite outlines in An Empiricist's View of the Nature of Religious Belief seems to be close to this.) (2) The statements are not empirical and are therefore not significant. (3) The statements are not empirical— common sense and science are irrelevant to the truth and falsity of religious claims—and yet they are significant.

My aim in this essay is to elucidate in a certain way the concept of God. I shall begin with several brief remarks in clarification of this aim and the terminology I shall employ in pursuing it.

In an important article in the opening issue of Religious Studies, Professor H. H. Price states that: ‘Epistemologists have not usually had much to say about believing “in”, though ever since Plato's time they have been interested in believing “that”’ (loc. cit., vol. I, no. 1, p. 5). We are all considerably in debt to Professor Price for his extremely lucid analysis which will, I think, go a very long way towards filling the lacuna to which he points. As I find myself in agreement with almost every point which Price has made, my purpose here is not to make a ‘reply’ to his article in the usual sense but to suggest that his analysis of believing is curiously and disappointingly incomplete. I shall offer some reasons of my own in support of this suggestion, not so much in criticism of Price's thesis as in hopes of finding some way out of the difficulties which, I take it, forced Price to stop short just where he did. It will be the burden of my argument to show that a more complete and satisfactory account of believing must include a description of its ‘metaphysical element’ as well as of its epistemological and psychological conditions. For it is at the point of what I shall call the ‘metaphysics of believing’ that Price's analysis and description of belief ‘in’ and belief ‘that’ stops short.1

The purpose of this paper is not to offer any solution to the problem of evil, or to declare it insoluble. It is rather the more modest one of deciding on its nature. Many writers assume that the problem of evil is one that poses a logical challenge to the theist, rather than a challenge of a moral or scientific sort. If this assumption is correct, and the challenge cannot be met, Christian theism can be shown to be untenable on grounds of inconsistency. This in turn means that it is refutable by philosophers, even if their task is interpreted in the most narrowly analytical fashion. It has recently been argued that the challenge of the problem of evil can be met on logical grounds, and that if the existence of evil is damaging to theism it is not because the recognition of its existence is inconsistent with some essential part of it. I take two examples of this position. The first is in the paper ‘Hume on Evil’ by Nelson Pike; the second I owe to Professor R. M. Chisholm.

In a recent article, George Schlesinger adds his thoughts to the quite extensive literature on the Problem of Evil and the Problem of Suffering. What is noteworthy about this article is the fact that the author, after briefly discussing a number of familiar arguments for and against the traditional theistic conception of God as both omnipotent and perfectly good, attempts to dissolve the problem itself as a pseudo-problem. In the present paper I wish (1) to try to show that Schlesinger's attempt fails, whether or not he is right in his conclusion that the problem of evil is not a genuine problem; and (2) to raise, in the course of my criticism, certain fundamental questions that must be answered if the controversy between theists and their critics is to become logically capable of resolution. Further, in relation to (1) and (2), I shall (3) offer a very preliminary sketch of some of the fundamental terms or concepts involved in the discussion of the problem of evil and related issues of philosophical theology. I shall begin by saying a few things about Schlesinger's discussion of some of the familiar attempts of theists to resolve the problem, and the equally familiar attacks of the sceptics. I shall then pass to a criticism of Schlesinger's main thesis.

One of the most annoying things to many a student of St Anselm's Proslogion is the way in which many philosophers assume that they can make Anselm's argument disappear simply by uttering the incantation, ‘Existence is not a predicate’. Some recent studies of the argument1 have tried to rescue it from Kant's dictum by showing that this criticism does not apply to Anselm's so-called ‘second’ ontological argument. This argument appears in chapter III of Proslogion and depends on a distinction between ‘necessary existence’ and ‘contingent existence’. Both Malcolm and Hartshorne are content, however, to let the better known ‘first’ argument (Proslogion, chapter II) rest in the oblivion to which Kant assigned it.

The philosophical problem of the relation of symbol to truth is far from solved, but there have been significant advances toward its solution. It is the common Christian understanding that God is Truth (among other things), and that all truths must ultimately find union in him. This is to say that all genuine truths must be compatible. The true conclusions of genuine science must be compatible with the true conclusions of genuine theology. Or, to bring this general statement to a more particular level, the true conclusions of Biblical scholarship must be compatible with the true conclusions of the natural sciences. When this compatibility is lacking, and it so often is, we must assume that the conclusions of one field of truth-seeking or the other do not partake of the Truth which is God. And there is no guarantee that theology as a field of truth-seeking cannot err. Another characteristic of genuine truth is that it is not dependent upon any particular environment or milieu—either social, cultural, philosophical, or even theological. Unless we are to make the common but dangerous division of sacred and secular, of holy and profane, claim that these areas of human experience have nothing to do the one with the other, compartmentalise our thought, and ask, ‘What has Athens to do with Jerusalem?’, it must be concluded that there is no one specifically Christian milieu. Genuine truths must be true at all times, in all places, and for all men. But since we are not gods, we must hold these truths in what St Paul called earthen vessels (II Cor. 4:7), vessels shaped and moulded by our particular milieu.