To discover whether effort of will may be a basis for moral freedom we need to have before us a general description of the experiential situation in which an effort of will is found. The description need not be exhaustive, but it must be such as to permit us to identify situations in which an effort of will is to be found.

My argument will be that our understanding of human beings, which is what I take the Christian doctrine of man to be concerned with, will benefit considerably from an examination of two different but related clusters of human attitudes which can be found respectively under the headings ‘optimism’ and ‘pessimism’. There are many pitfalls in the way of such an enterprise, and occasionally some prejudices to be overcome. For example L. E. Loemker in the relevant articles in the Encyclopedia of Philosophy concludes a fairly lengthy discussion with the rather terminal judgement:

I want to put forward a certain view of the logical foundation of religious belief. It is, in a sentence, the view that religious belief is constituted by the concept of god. This view will be discussed under three headings. First, I shall explain as clearly as I can what I mean by it. Secondly, I shall indicate what seem to me to be interesting parallels, both with regard to universes of discourse in general and to religious belief in particular, between my idea of a constitutive concept and Wittgenstein's ideas of a fundamental proposition and a religious ‘picture’. Thirdly, I shall try to substantiate the view I take of the logical foundation of religious belief by rebutting three conceivable objections to it: namely, that it rests on an illegitimate craving for generality, that it is at variance with common usage, and that it consigns religious belief to an intellectual ghetto.

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

In my Contemporary Critiques of Religion and in my Scepticism, I argue that non-anthropomorphic conceptions of God do not make sense. By this I mean that we do not have sound grounds for believing that the central truth-claims of Christianity are genuine truth-claims and that we do not have a religiously viable concept of God. I argue that this is so principally because of three interrelated features about God-talk. (I) While purporting to be factual assertions, central bits of God-talk, e.g. ‘God exists’ and ‘God loves man-kind’, are not even in principle verifiable (confirmable or disconfirmable) in such a way that we can say what experienceable states of affairs would count for these putative assertions and against their denials, such that we could say what it would be like to have evidence which would make either their assertion or their denial more or less probably true. (2) Personal predicates, e.g. ‘loves’, ‘creates’, are at least seemingly essential in the use of God-talk, yet they suffer from such an attenuation of meaning in their employment in religious linguistic environments that it at least appears to be the case that we have in such environments unwittingly emptied these predicates of all intelligible meaning so that we do not understand what we are asserting or denying when we utter ‘God loves mankind’ or ‘God created the heavens and the earth’ and the like. (3) When we make well-formed assertions, it appears at least to be the case that a necessary condition for such wellformedness is that we should be able successfully to identify the subject of that putative statement so that we can understand what it is that we are talking about and thus understand that a genuine statement has actually been made. But, where God is conceived non-anthropomorphically, we have no even tolerably clear idea about how God, an infinite individual, occupying no particular place or existing at no particular time, and being utterly transcendent to the world, can be identified. Indeed we have no coherent idea of what it would be like to identify him and this means we have no coherent idea of what it would be like for God even to be a person or an it. He cannot be picked out and identified in the way persons and things can.

This paper is a brief reply to Henry Simoni's ‘Divine passibility and the problem of radical particularity: does God feel your pain?’ in Religious Studies, 33 (1997). I treat his discussion of my paper entitled ‘Hartshorne and Creel on impassibility’, Process Studies, 21 (1992). I argue that Simoni's examples used to illustrate the purportedly contradictory nature of the experiences of a God who universally feels creaturely states fail. For Simoni tacitly employs an inadequate notion of the law of non-contradiction, and thereby misses the relevant phenomenological fact that it is possible for human beings to have integrated mental states that contain spatially distinctive but conflicting hedonic properties. Thus, it is possible for God (at least under Hartshornean descriptions) to have such experiences. I also argue that I have not ‘exploited an isolated passage’ in Hartshorne to make his views seem more palatable. The point of the passage in question is in fact repeated by Hartshorne and is systematically connected with his doctrine of the ‘objective and subjective form of feeling’.

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

According to Alvin Plantinga there is no good reason to think that there is anything unacceptable about religious belief even if the believer cannot present evidence or arguments in support of her beliefs. One important challenge to this claim is the ‘Great Pumpkin’ objection. This objection is that Plantinga's arguments could be used to defend very strange beliefs such as belief in the Great Pumpkin. I describe this objection in more detail and then offer a solution to the problem by considering how the historical and social environment might provide favouring evidence for Christian beliefs.

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

The late Karl Barth once wrote that no one can hope to overcome Ludwig Feuerbach ‘…with whining or with angry criticism of his views of religion.’ This is plainly correct, for Feuerbach's argument that religious language is always anthropological is an argument of great attractiveness—and, apparently, of great explanatory utility to psychologists, historians, and philosophers. Barth's solution to the problem raised by Feuerbach is less satisfactory. It just will not do for Christian believers simply to cleanse Christian theology of anthropological foundations by admitting ‘…that even in our relation to God,… we can lay claim to his truth, his certainty, his salvation as grace and only as grace’. Nor will it do for Christian believers, secure in the promise of divine succour, to ‘… laugh… at Feuerbach’ for his naive view of human possibilities. Even though a cleansing of theology may be helpful to the Church, it will have little (more likely, no) effect upon the widespread popular and scholarly acceptance of Feuerbach's conclusions.

The article discusses moral critique of theodicies, and suggests the need for several distinctions in order to avoid misunderstanding. It distinguishes between moral critique of concrete theodicies and theodicies in general, and between moral critique of the content of theodicies and the consequences of theodicies. But there are also different kinds of moral critique of the content and the consequences. After presenting these distinctions, the article responds to Robert Simpson's ‘Some moral critique of theodicies is misplaced, but not all’.

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

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

Process theology is far less prominent in Britain than in its country of origin, but its central doctrine of a developing God would prove, I think, to be held by many British theologians if one made enquiry. Professor Keith Ward may show which way the wind is blowing when he writes in his recent book Rational Theology and the Creativity of God: ‘only if God is temporal, can he be the free creator of a universe of free creatures; only if he is eternal, can he possess that necessity which is the foundation of the world; only if he is dipolar, can he be both’. To that extent he accepts the Whitehead-Hartshorne position. Why has the the absolute timelessness of God seemed obvious so regularly to thinking religious people down the ages? It must be, I shall say, that they have felt themselves in touch somehow with another world, or rather another state, in which time is absolutely transcended. But I am not concerned only with that in this article. My business is to suggest that process theology is important for a number of reasons. I shall return to Ward's book at the end.

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

This article describes a new type of religious commitment that is activated only if the associated religious propositions are true. The notion of a conditional intention provides the mechanism for understanding how it works, and the justification for forming such an intention in the religious case comes from an awareness of human immaturity combined with a more fundamental and unconditional commitment to truth, goodness, and beauty. The article's argument promises to contribute widely and to supersede certain older arguments, including Pascal's Wager.