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

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

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

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

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

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

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

In a recent book on the historical development of Buddhist thought, the author, David J. Kalupahana, has presented the thesis that early Buddhist philosophy, as found in the Pali Nikāyas and Chinese Āgamas, is radically different from that of later Buddhism, and supports his claim by tracing the historical divergence of the later schools from original Buddhism as he reconstructs it. He then goes on to assert that not only does early Buddhism differ philosophically from the later schools, but also that even the spiritual goal of nirvāna was fundamentally different, i.e., that the experience or condition denoted by the term ‘nirvāna’ in early Buddhism is quite different from that state which the same term came to denote later – a theory which is perhaps the most controversial feature ofhis overall interpretation of Buddhism.

Accounts of religion, like almost all influential academic and intellectual exercises, as indeed much else, in the last two or three centuries, have generally been the work of Western scholars and intellectuals, often less familiar with, but sometimes simply disinclined to take seriously, non-Western religious traditions. Consequently most of these accounts have tended to be parochial, failing to apply to, say, Eastern religions, not to mention so-called ‘primitive’ religions; and have often given to what should only have been ‘local squabbles’ the appearance of universal religious concern. As a result, even philosophers of religion have largely explicated what might be called the ‘prescriptive grammar’ of religion. With a view to rectifying the situation, I intend to outline what I hope will be a ‘descriptive’ account, i.e. one which will be true of at least the major living religions of the world, e.g. Hinduism, Buddhism, Judaism, Christianity, Islam and their main schools or sects. Inevitably, such a general account will fail to incorporate the unique features of any one religion; but it should have the advantage of restoring the proper perspective in debates concerning religion and religious issues, including those relating to the semantic and/or logical features of religious belief and so-called ‘religious language’.

‘For the inference involved in our knowledge of other minds is not, after all, an inference to them as bodily existences…’ (H. D. Lewis)

In his recent and typically thought-provoking paper, ‘On the Rationality of Radical Theological Non-Naturalism’, Kai Nielsen attacks those who, like Terence Penelhum, believe that ‘there is no good reason to think that we could not, with a little ingenuity, think up some non-theistic statements which would serve, if true, to put some theistic conclusions beyond reason-able doubt’.

In God and Other Minds, Alvin Plantinga formulated an ingenious defence of the teleological argument for the belief in God, based on alleged similarities to the analogical argument for other minds. I shall state what I take to be Plantinga's central argument and then I shall criticize it on two counts: 1. Even if Plantinga's claims about the similarities between these two famous arguments were sound, they would at most provide rational support for pantheism, but not for the traditional Judaeo-Christian theism that Plantinga attempts to defend; and 2. The similarities alleged by Plantinga do not in fact hold. The analogical inference to other minds is grounded on resemblance between one's own behaviour and the behaviour of others, while the teleological argument for God is grounded on resemblance between human contrivances and the world. If the teleological argument really worked, it would count against rather than being supported by the analogical argument, for it would reduce the world to a soulless machine created and programmed by God, and, by inverse inference, would strongly suggest that God himself is exactly so much of a Mind as J. C. Smart and Hilary Putnam take human minds to be, i.e. a computer program.

In God, Freedom, and Evil, Alvin Plantinga presents a new form of the ontological argument for the existence of God. Though he has reservations concerning its evangelical efficacy, Plantinga considers the proof both valid and sound, and presents it as a defence of the rational acceptability of theism.

The aim of this paper is to examine the several aspects of prayer in primitive, i.e. nonliterate religions. The contention is that prayer does in fact exist among primitive people in their religious practices and that prayer does have a functional aspect in primitive religion.