Evil, Sin, and Christian Theism (Routledge New Critical Thinking in Religion, Theology and Biblical Studies) 9781032193885, 9781032208817, 9781003265689, 1032193883

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Evil, Sin, and Christian Theism

This book offers a compelling examination of the problem of evil and the doctrine of sin. It engages with and advances extant discussions on the topic by drawing together philosophical arguments, theological reflections, scientific evidence, Biblical exegesis, and real-life stories. The chapters provide a comprehensive evaluation of objections by anti-theodicists and atheists, and bring recent philosophical work concerning the arguments for Christian theism and advances in science and religion to bear on the discussion. The author defends the Cosmic Conflict Theodicy against philosophical and theological objections, and uses it together with the Connection Building Theodicy, Adamic Fall Theodicy, arguments for divine hiddenness, and Afterlife Theodicy to address the vexing problem of horrendous evil. Andrew Ter Ern Loke is an Associate Professor at Hong Kong Baptist University.

Routledge New Critical Thinking in Religion, Theology and Biblical Studies

The Routledge New Critical Thinking in Religion, Theology and Biblical Studies series brings high quality research monograph publishing back into focus for authors, international libraries, and student, academic and research readers. This open-ended monograph series presents cutting-edge research from both established and new authors in the field. With specialist focus yet clear contextual presentation of contemporary research, books in the series take research into important new directions and open the field to new critical debate within the discipline, in areas of related study, and in key areas for contemporary society. Investigating the Resurrection of Jesus Christ A New Transdisciplinary Approach Andrew Loke Schleiermacher’s Theology of Sin and Nature Agency, Value, and Modern Theology Daniel J. Pedersen Christianity and COVID-19 Pathways for Faith Edited by Chammah J. Kaunda, Atola Longkumer, Kenneth R. Ross and Esther Mombo Phenomenology and the Horizon of Experience Spiritual Themes in Henry, Marion, and Lacoste Joseph Rivera Adam Smith and the Invisible Hand of God Brendan Long Evil, Sin, and Christian Theism Andrew Ter Ern Loke For more information about this series, please visit: https://www.routledge.com/ religion/series/RCRITREL

Evil, Sin, and Christian Theism

Andrew Ter Ern Loke

First published 2022 by Routledge 4 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN and by Routledge 605 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10158 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2022 Andrew Ter Ern Loke The right of Andrew Ter Ern Loke to be identified as author of this work has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data A catalog record has been requested for this book ISBN: 978-1-032-19388-5 (hbk) ISBN: 978-1-032-20881-7 (pbk) ISBN: 978-1-003-26568-9 (ebk) DOI: 10.4324/9781003265689 Typeset in Times New Roman by Taylor & Francis Books

In memory of my father Loke Siah Wah (1949–2017)

Contents

Acknowledgements 1 Introduction

ix 1

2 Rebutting the argument from evil

16

3 Christian theism and the origin of evil and sin

33

4 Evolutionary evils

72

5 Adamic Fall Theodicy

98

6 Original Sin

121

7 The problem of divine hiddenness

165

8 The problem of horrendous evil and apparently pointless evil

177

9 Why fight evil

206

References Index

212 230

Acknowledgements

I started writing this book soon after the Covid-19 pandemic broke out in 2020. Having more time to stay at home as the result of lockdown, I decided to reflect on the problem of evil and suffering and to write a book that would help to address this problem. I did not start from scratch, having encountered illnesses and deaths on a frequent basis in my earlier career as a medical doctor and having discussed this topic at length with many colleagues, students, and friends over the years, for which I am grateful. In particular, I would like to thank Dr Phua Dong Hao (whose penetrating questions first aroused me from my intellectual slumbers when we were in medical school) and Dr Harold Leong (whose extensive emails led me to reflect more deeply about the problem of evil). I would also like to thank professors Ian McFarland, Daniel Lim, Kwan Kai Man, Ellen Zhang, Mark Boone, Benedict Chan, Andrew Brenner, James Rooney, and Chan Kai Yan for helpful discussions. I would like to thank my assistant Vincent Chan for his help with the references. I would also like to thank the team at Routledge—in particular Katherine Ong, Yuga Harini, Manas Roy, Veronica Morgan, and Drew Stanley—for their assistance in producing this book, and the anonymous reviewers for their very helpful comments. I have previously published a paper titled ‘On the doing-allowing distinction and the problem of evil: a reply to Daniel Lim,’ International Journal for Philosophy of Religion 83 (2018):137–43 (Loke 2018a), and am grateful to Springer Nature for permission to reproduce the content of this article in this book. Finally, I would like to express my gratitude to my late father, who lived a life of suffering. He became a Christian at high school and was persecuted and beaten by my grandfather. He loved to study, but was denied the opportunity to enter university because of extreme poverty. He had to feed the pigs in the farm and work in the army to support his family, and later used all his savings to support my studies. He was diagnosed with renal failure in the prime of his life, and had to undergo decades of painful dialysis. He later suffered from oesophageal cancer, and had to undergo months of debilitating chemotherapy, which eventually took his life. His smiles in the midst of dialysis and his silent waving goodbye on his deathbed are a reminder that one can have joy in Christ even in the midst of suffering, and confident hope of going to our eternal home where one can experience the incomparable bliss of God’s presence, even in the face of death.

1

Introduction

1.1 The significance of the problem The presence of evil and suffering is a problem from which no one can escape. Death is inevitable for all, and pandemics, accidents, and natural disasters have brought great misery. If there is a God who is all-powerful, all-knowing, and allgood, why would he allow such events to happen? Throughout history, many have wrestled with this question, and many books have been written to address this issue from various perspectives. Indeed, it is now widely acknowledged that there is no viewpoint from nowhere; every viewpoint is actually a ‘view from somewhere’ (Nagel 1986, pp. 67–89). We cannot escape the condition of having to address a particular issue from a particular perspective. This book will address the problem of evil from the perspective of traditional Christian theism, while incorporating a number of helpful insights from other religious and philosophical traditions and mentioning a number of disagreements with them as well. I have defended the arguments for traditional Christian theism in other publications (Loke 2017a; 2017b; 2020a; forthcoming a), while acknowledging that many people regard the problem of evil as the greatest challenge to the Christian faith, a challenge which is highly relevant in view of the current Covid-19 pandemic. This book is an extended response to that challenge, as well as an in-depth examination of the Christian doctrine of sin. But why another book when many responses have already been published throughout the centuries? One problem with those responses is that—although they contain many valuable insights from which I have learned much—the older ones (e.g. by such luminaries as Augustine and Aquinas) did not consider objections that arose in later centuries, such as the challenges posed by the Darwinian theory of evolution and the associated evils (see Chapters 4 and 5 of this book). On the other hand, many recent books (e.g. Tooley 2019; Trakakis 2018b; Meister and Moser 2017; Frances 2013; Stump 2010) do not engage in depth with the difficult issues concerning the doctrine of sin (in particular, Original Sin) with which the problem of evil for traditional Christian theism is intertwined (see Chapter 6). Additionally, many of them have failed to consider recent publications concerning the arguments for theism—in particular the Moral Argument and Cosmological Argument for the DOI: 10.4324/9781003265689-1

2

Introduction

existence of God—without which their discussions of the Christian responses to the evidential argument from evil (Draper 2017; Tooley 2019, pp. 48–50) and the associated problem of divine hiddenness (Schellenberg 2015a) are inadequate (see Chapter 2). On the other hand, recent books on the Christian doctrine of sin (e.g. McFarland 2010; Johnson and Lauber 2016) have failed to address adequately the philosophical issues concerning evil and recent advances in science and religion discussions concerning human origin (Swamidass 2018; 2019; Lents 2019; Craig forthcoming; Loke forthcoming b). This book will move the discussion ahead in a new and significant way by addressing the problems concerning evil and sin together using a transdisciplinary approach, providing a comprehensive evaluation of the objections by anti-theodicists and atheists, and bringing recent philosophical work on the arguments for Christian theism and recent advances in science and religion dialogues on human origins to bear on the discussion. I shall highlight some of the important contributions of this book in the following paragraphs. First, the approach of this book continues the transdisciplinarity of some of my previous books (e.g. Loke 2017b; 2020a). A transdisciplinary approach is one which integrates different disciplines—in this case, analytic philosophy of religion, systematic theology, Biblical studies, and science and religion—to create a new methodology that moves beyond discipline-specific approaches to address a problem. The need for such an approach can be illustrated by comparing this book with other important books in recent decades. For example, Eleonore Stump’s Wandering in Darkness (Stump 2010) combines the clarity, precision, and logical rigor of analytic philosophy with illuminating and sensitive exegeses of Scriptural narratives for the defence of a traditional Christian (specifically Thomistic) understanding concerning the problem of evil. However, the inadequate consideration of the perspectives of systematic theology and science and religion is evident in Stump’s discussion of the relevant doctrine of Original Sin and the problem of evil associated with this doctrine (Stump 2010, p. 153). Stump does not defend the doctrine against the most difficult objections, e.g. does Original Sin determine that humans commit actual sins and are held culpable, punished, and suffer as a result? If so, isn’t it unjust given that they could not have chosen otherwise (Madueme 2020)? If not, how does it avoid the heresy of Pelagianism? Stump also does not engage with the more recent discussions concerning population genetics which affect the plausibility of this doctrine. I discuss these issues in Chapters 5 and 6 of my book. On the other hand, Ian McFarland’s In Adam’s Fall (McFarland 2010) offers a more extensive discussion on the doctrine of Original Sin. However, the inadequate consideration of the perspective of analytic philosophy and Biblical studies is evident in his discussion of the bondage of human will to sin. He fails to respond adequately to the theological problem concerning the ultimate responsibility for evil which is associated with the compatibilism implied by his view. His discussion on Romans 7 (e.g. McFarland 2010, p. 9) fails to note that Paul does not say in Romans 7 that the state of bondage to sin in which he found himself was prior to any decision of the human will (his discussion concerning the scientific perspectives on human origin is outdated as well). The need for a

Introduction

3

transdisciplinary approach is also illustrated by the lack of careful attention to Biblical exegesis by a number of philosophers who advocate anti-theodicy and who have misinterpreted the Book of Job to support their case. I shall demonstrate in later chapters that the Book of Job is more in line with a moderate form of sceptical theism which includes an appeal to the traditional arguments of Natural Theology. The second unique contribution of this book is its defence of the scientific plausibility of the Traditional Adamic Fall Theodicy, that is, the story of Adam’s disobedience which functions as a theodicy to explain how human sin and suffering became pervasive (McFarland 2010, p. 34). Although this theodicy remains important for many Christians of various stripes because of its integral relationship with the exposition of the Gospel in theological tradition (Pope Pius XII, Humani Generis 36–7; Flaman 2016; Suarez 2015; 2016; Riches 2017; McCall 2019), it has been rejected by many in light of scientific, philosophical, and theological objections. The scientific objections, however, have been rebutted in recent publications using a Genealogical Adam model (see Chapter 5). In this book, I utilize a unique variant of this model which avoids the problems with other variants (e.g. Swamidass 2019; see Loke 2020b), and respond to more recent criticisms against the Genealogical Adam Model (e.g. in Houck 2020). In addition, I shall defend the Cosmic Conflict Theodicy against philosophical and theological objections (see Chapter 3), bringing in evidential considerations which a number of recent defenders of this theodicy (e.g. Peckham 2018) have neglected. Third, this book proposes a novel model of Original Sin which avoids the problems of Pelagianism and Augustinianism. It defends the Corruption-Only view of Original Sin by responding to the exegetical objections by Reformed Theologians (e.g. based on their interpretations of Romans 5:12–21 and Romans 7), and brings together philosophical arguments concerning the Connection Building Theodicy (Collins 2013) and transworld depravity, and a novel hylomorphic model of souls (first proposed in Loke 2011). I develop the latter to resolve the debate between Traducianism and Creationism concerning the origination of human souls and the transmission of Original Corruption. In addition, I show that this model can be used to address the so-called grounding objection to Middle Knowledge (see Chapter 6). I also provide a novel response to the question concerning how was it possible for evil to be chosen at the beginning, which avoids Augustine’s unsatisfactory conclusion that primal sin is inexplicable. I show how a state in which creatures existed and were different from God and had natural desires for good things results in the possibility of evil which is not in itself evil (see Chapter 3). The difficulties concerning the doctrine of Original Sin have been regarded as compounding the problem of evil against the Christian version of theism (as compared to other versions of theism which do not affirm this doctrine). I shall argue that these difficulties can be adequately responded to. This in itself is a significant contribution to the literature, because many of the contemporary Christian responses to the problem of evil (e.g. Stump 2010; Vitale 2020) do not adequately defend the view of evil as affirmed by the Scriptural and theological tradition with its doctrine of Original Sin. On the other hand, my model of

4

Introduction

Original Sin together with the Adamic Fall Theodicy contributes to the theistic response to the problem of evil by explaining the state of human existence as sinners, the apparent absence of God as a logical consequence of a Fallen World, and the depth of human depravity which indicates the need for divine grace. In the aforementioned ways, the theological construct of sin plays a major role in the argument of this book alongside the discussion of the problem of evil. Fourth, this book uses new arguments to defend the free will defence, transworld depravity, and moderate versions of sceptical theism against recent objections. For example, in reply to Schellenberg (2015a), I explain why the freedom to choose evil is morally valuable for creatures to have, but not necessary for God (see Chapter 2). I argue that the objection that it is unlikely that every creaturely essence suffers from transworld depravity given an infinite number of possible persons (Rasmussen 2004) can be replied to by postulating an account of counterfactuals of freedom involving essential property of personhood (see Chapters 2 and 6). I show that, contrary to Ekstrom (2021) and Oppy (2017), moderate versions of sceptical theism do not undermine the Cosmological and Teleological Arguments for the existence of God (see Chapter 2). I also reply to Ekstrom’s (2021) argument against the necessity of libertarian freedom for love by showing that she misses the point concerning the interpersonal dimension of love and fails to exclude the claim that libertarian freedom is necessary for personhood. Moreover, I show that her view implies that the actions of Mother Teresa would not deserve praise nor the actions of Adolf Hitler deserve blame, which constitutes a reductio ad absurdum of her view (see Chapter 3). Fifth, this book demonstrates that many of the arguments for and against the problem of evil are based on false analogies, such as the ideal political state analogy (Sterba 2019; see Chapter 8 of this book) and the parent–child analogy (Oppy 2017; see Chapter 9) which is only relevant for some aspects of God–human relation (and indeed used by the Bible as such) but not for others. The identification, documentation, and refutation of false analogies is another important contribution of this book. Consider, for example, the use of the parent–child analogy in the discussion of the evaluative framework for the moral theoretical underpinnings of theodicies which Vitale (2020) proposed. Vitale (2020, p. 36) notes that the influential contemporary theodicies can be classified as one of four types: Type A—Horrendous harm caused for all-things-considered pure benefit. Type B—Horrendous harm permitted for all-things-considered pure benefit. Type C—Horrendous harm risked for all-things-considered pure benefit. Type D—Horrendous harm permitted for all-things-considered harm-averting benefit. Vitale (2020, p. 31) distinguishes between harm-averting benefit and pure benefit as follows: a person receives a harm-averting benefit if and only if either there occurs an event e such that had e not occurred, he would have been worse off and badly off in some respect for some interval of time or there are a time t1 and a later

Introduction

5

time t2 such that the person is badly off in some respect at t1 and is in the same respect better-off at t2. Other benefits are pure benefits. Vitale (2020, p. 226) argues that the justificatory asymmetry between pure and harm-averting benefits is important in the ethics of human procreation literature but largely unacknowledged in contemporary theodicy. To answer the question ‘under what, if any, conditions would an ethically perfect God create and sustain human persons in a horror-ridden world,’ Vitale proposes an evaluative framework based on a discussion of cases of human-induced horrendous harm ‘to help us get our intuitional bearings with respect to the moral framework’ Vitale (2020, pp. 35–6). For example, he considers the case of a child who would have had a fulfilling life even without enhancement surgery, in which case the parents wrong their child by violating her right not to be horrendously harmed for pure benefit (p. 50), and he argues by analogy against Type A theodicies that ‘God could not be expected, nor morally permitted, to ask horrors from us in order to give us pure benefits’ (p. 71). He also argues against the significance of the doing-allowing distinction, and thereby concludes that Type B theodicies fail as well. ‘All the more so for their caretaking roles, the parents are morally obligated to make a serious effort to avoid the violation of such rights’ (p. 50). In reply to Vitale, I shall argue in Chapter 3 that the doing-allowing distinction remains significant in light of the fact that God is supposed to be the First Cause of the universe (this point cannot be said about human parents), and in Chapters 8 and 9 that the parent–child analogy is only appropriate for some aspects of God’s relationship to creatures but not others. In particular, I shall argue that the identity of God as the metaphysical ground of goodness and the transcendent point of reference for objective meaning of life, the giver of moral responsibility and moral testing, and the enforcer of retributive justice and the giver of eternal good—all of which cannot be said of human parents—matters in our evaluation of moral theoretical underpinnings of theodicies. In response to Ekstrom (2021) who has argued that the value of free will underlies much of the power of theodicies, I shall show in this book that the use of false analogies underlies much of the power of objections to theodicies, including objections raised by Ekstrom who uses the parent–child analogy to argue against the value of free will relative to the prevention of suffering. The argumentative arc of this book is a defence of a moderate version of sceptical theism in combination with natural theology, followed by a development of a Big Picture approach in which Christian theism provides the big picture and uses a combination of theodicies. (For a non-Christian who does not accept the authority of Scripture, he/she can regard these explanations as defences [i.e. possible explanations] which the atheist would need to bear the burden of proof to exclude. I explain in detail the burden of proof and other aforementioned issues in Chapter 2.) It first (1) defends the Adamic Fall Theodicy and other theodicies individually using a number of novel arguments. This follows a chronological order in line with theological and evolutionary history: the origin of evil with the Angelic

6

Introduction

Fall (Chapter 3), pre-human evolutionary evils (Chapter 4), the origin of evil in humanity (Chapter 5), and the passing down of the Original Corruption to subsequent generations (Chapter 6). (2) The theodicies are then synthesized together in a novel way to address the problem of divine hiddenness (Chapter 7) and the problems of horrendous evil and apparently pointless evil (Chapters 8 and 9; it is only when the theodicies are combined and applied to these problems that the moral theoretical underpinnings of theodicies reveal themselves and are then addressed). In this way, this book does not merely string together many other extant positions, but advances the discussion on some of these positions, and brings them together in a way which has been neglected in recent scholarship to advance the discussion on the problem of evil and the doctrine of sin. It will be shown how my unique synthesis and development of various positions engages with the arguments in the literature and goes beyond anything else that currently exists in the literature. Finally, I shall consider the existential significance of the conclusions of this book by including real-life stories of people who have found these conclusions helpful for coping with suffering. In these and other ways, this book makes an important contribution to the discussion on issues which are of great importance for us all.

1.2 Emotional and intellectual problems of evil, and anti-theodicy Alvin Plantinga (1977, pp. 63–4) famously distinguishes between two aspects of the problem of evil: the emotional and the intellectual. These two aspects are interrelated, but they are not identical. For a person undergoing suffering, very often what he/she needs is someone who can minister to him/her at the emotional and practical level; he/she needs a listener, a friend who would ‘weep with those who weep’ (Romans 12:15) and walk with him/her through the period of suffering. This does not imply that rational answers are useless for them (see the rest of this chapter). Rather, many sufferers might not be in an adequately emotionally stable mental state to understand them. It has been said that ‘no statement, theological or otherwise, should be made that would not be credible in the presence of burning children’ (Greenberg 1989, p. 315). But of course burning children suffering from pain would hardly be in the right mental state to discern the credibility of those statements; what they need is rescue and healing. In a similar vein, Meister (2018, pp. 15–16) writes: Think of a young child who goes out to play on a playground. Sometime during her play, she falls and skins her knee. She runs to her mother for comfort. Now, her mother can do any number of things. She can tell her daughter that this has happened because she was running too fast and not watching where she was going. She must be more careful next time. The mother, if she knew them, might even explain the laws of physics and causation that were operating to make her child’s scrape just the size and shape it is. The mother might even expound for a few moments on the lessons God is trying to teach her child from this experience. If she then pauses and asks

Introduction

7

her daughter, ‘Do you understand, Sweetheart?’ don’t be surprised if the little girl replies, ‘Yes, Mommy, but it still hurts!’ All the explanation at that moment doesn’t stop her pain. The child doesn’t need a discourse; she needs her mother’s hugs and kisses. There will be a time for the discourse later; now she needs comfort. Meister (2018, p. 16) adds that: nevertheless, the existential and theoretical problems are not entirely divorced, for existential encounter certainly affects one’s theorizing, and one’s theories are not entirely disconnected from one’s experiences. Both sets of problems are important and need to be considered when discussing problems of evil. For those who have not gone through great suffering but who have reflected on the tragedies of others, the intellectual obstacle which they encounter is something which emotional support alone cannot resolve. They need rational answers to help them deal with their doubts and untangle the knot in their thinking; that is, to resolve the apparent contradictions between the existence of God and the problem of evil. Anti-theodicists1 have rejected such attempts to give rational answers. They object that such an approach is by nature defective, claiming that: to engage in the practice of constructing theodicies is to speak of the horrendous sufferings of the world as something that can be ‘absorbed,’ compensated or outweighed by some greater good and to do this is to downplay the extremity of the horror involved. (Betenson 2016, p. 57) Anti-theodicists not only deny the possibility that there are morally sufficient reasons for allowing horrendous sufferings which are known to God but are unknown to humans; they make the stronger claim of denying the possibility that there are any such morally sufficient reasons at all.2 Against theodicists who have often used examples of minor tribulations such as the pain of exercising or dental treatment to illustrate how suffering can be allowed for the sake of greater goods, anti-theodicists object that this approach indicates a stark moral insensitivity in failing to recognize the radical qualitative severity of horrendous evils and failing to take such sufferings seriously (Betenson 2016, p. 58). ‘For evil that is “not so bad after all” is not genuinely evil’ (Trakakis 2017, p. 127). Theodicies ‘provide—albeit unwittingly—a tacit sanction of the myriad evils that exist on the planet’ (Surin 1986, p. 50). The concerns raised by anti-theodicists are important. Nevertheless, to engage in the practice of constructing theodicies does not necessarily imply the downplaying of the horrors involved, rather it seeks to evaluate possible explanations for why such horrors exist and how they can be defeated. Kolakowski (1982, p. 35) notes that:

8

Introduction the problem of theodicy, far from being invented for the amusement of speculative minds, has strong and unwithering roots in the everyday experience of those who refuse to admit that suffering and evil are just suffering and evil, plain facts meaning nothing, related to nothing, justified by nothing.

It is true that there is a radical qualitative difference between minor tribulations such as the pain of exercising or dental treatment and horrendous evils such as (say) the Holocaust, and many theodicists would argue that the latter is genuinely evil and requires redemption. Contrary to Surin, theodicies do not provide a tacit sanction of the myriad evils, but rather recognize such evils as evils which require an explanation and a solution. Theodicies seek to provide hope to the sufferers that such evils can be defeated just as minor tribulations can be defeated. Anti-theodicist Nick Trakakis himself observes that: theodicies seek to outline the providential plan God has for his creatures and, in doing so, help to give meaning, hope, and consolation to sufferers. By contrast, the anti-theodicist, by refusing the very practice of theodicy, appears to lack the resources to address sufferers in terms of meaning and hope. (Trakakis 2017, pp. 135–6, citing Shearn 2013) Nevertheless, Trakakis objects that one can dispense with theodicy and still hold to an essentially affirmative view of life by responding to evil in practical ways (e.g. lament, forgiveness, thoughtfulness, and hospitality). Against the objection that without the afterlife a huge amount of sufferings would remain undefeated, he concedes that a Christian anti-theodicist might even affirm the possibility or necessity of redemption fulfilled in the eschaton (Trakakis 2017, pp. 141–2). However, by denying the possibility that there are morally sufficient reasons for why God permits evil, anti-theodicists undermine the credibility of a divine providence that would bring about such a redemption. Anti-theodicists have also objected that ‘theodicy adopts too detached a perspective when it makes its moral calculations,’ removing ‘many of the subjective elements that (one might think) are crucial to the meaningfulness of many of our evaluative claims’ (Betenson 2016, p. 57). ‘The God of theodicy is an “ideal observer” … the ideal observer is inhuman in the worst sense of the word’ (p. 57, citing Gleeson). ‘The theodicist’s explanations are plainly inadequate as a response to particular cases of evil’ (Scott 1996, p. 1). Against theodicists who distinguish between the intellectual problem of evil and the existential one, Trakakis objects that this has the problem of ‘reducing philosophy to a technical and disinterested exercise, rather than a holistic enterprise involving the whole person (body and mind, passion and intellect) and calling forth the resources and insights of the arts as well as the sciences’ (Trakakis 2017, p. 128). De Cruz (2012) argues that approaching the problem of evil as an abstract puzzle to be solved is very different from focusing on concrete, vivid examples such as Rowe’s presentation of the case of a fawn which suffers

Introduction

9

horrible burns from a forest fire and lies in dreadful agony for days until its death. She concludes that: perhaps Trakakis is not of the mark when he argues that theodicies are questionable, also in a moral sense. Remarkably, the book of Job which deals with the problem of evil in detail comes to a similar conclusion: upon witnessing Job’s horrible condition, his friends are startled and shocked, and after the initial shock, they attempt to provide various theodicies (e.g. God is testing you, you must have done something wrong). Job rejects all these accounts, and is, at the end of the book, vindicated by God. God admonishes Job’s friends for trying to explain the evil in terms of some retribution or greater good, but he does not blame Job or his wife. I agree that using narratives to illustrate concrete three-dimensional examples which convey the full complexities of the real world can be helpful for philosophical reflection (see Stump 2010). Indeed, I will be discussing a number of real-life concrete examples in later parts of this book, such as the case of Nick Vujicic, a man who was born without arms and legs. De Cruz and Trakakis, however, have failed to consider the concrete examples of the subjective experiences of those who have found theodicies helpful for making sense of suffering in the presence of concrete instances of suffering, including Vujicic himself (see Chapter 8). To cite another example, philosopher Clay Jones, whose wife had lost five children through miscarriages, notes the value of theodicies and has written a book on it himself. He observes that, although those who grieve rarely search for explanations of how God works in the universe, eventually ‘there comes a time, when the initial anguish subsides, that people seek the larger picture of what God is doing in the universe’ (Jones 2016). I shall have more to say about the Book of Job in Chapter 8; at this point I would just like to note that the problem with Job’s friends is (arguably) not that they tried to provide theodicies per se, but with the quality of their theodicies which are based on the fallacious assumption that God would always bless the righteous and not allow them to suffer. Rea (2018, pp. 140–1) notes that the responses of his companions ‘only serve to complete Job’s descent into a hell of suffering by assaulting his last remaining source of comfort, namely, his communion with others and his confident assurance of his own righteous standing before God.’ Moreover, God himself is said to have provided a reasoned response to Job by asking Job a series of questions which pointed Job to the wonders of God’s creation (Job 38–42). Job was thus able to rest assured in the knowledge that there is a Creator God whose wisdom far exceeds ours. Hence, even though we may not know the reason why God allows certain instances of suffering, that does not mean there is no good reason which is known to God, and that in itself is an important response to the problem of evil. The traditional arguments of Natural Theology (e.g. Cosmological, Teleological, and Moral Arguments) point to the existence of such a God who created the universe, and thus provide the premise

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Introduction

to this response. Contrary to popular misconceptions, Hume and Kant did not successfully rebut these arguments; on the contrary, they are still being defended today in journals and monographs published by world-leading academic publishers (see, for example, Baggett and Walls 2016; Evans 2013; Lewis and Barnes 2016; Loke 2017a; Walls and Dougherty 2018). Sadly, the relevance of such arguments for responding to the problem of evil has often been neglected in recent literature (e.g. Wright 2019). One might worry whether offering a theodicy to justify the ways of God might be considered presumptuous on our part (De Cruz 2012). Such a worry is unwarranted if the theodicy can be shown to be based on God’s revelation in creation and Scripture, which I have argued for elsewhere (Loke 2017b; 2020a). Third, in favour of anti-theodicy, Trakakis (2018a, p. 115) claims that, with regards to the problem of evil: even the semblance of a plausible or rationally acceptable solution is missing. Again, this requires argument, but note Plantinga’s remark that ‘most of the attempts to explain why God permits evil—theodicies, as we might call them—seem to me shallow, tepid, and ultimately frivolous.’ But of course, ‘most’ does not imply ‘all’; as noted in the rest of this book, Plantinga himself has offered theodicies which he regards as rationally acceptable; thus his statement does not support Trakakis’ claim. Whether his claim is justified or not would require a detailed examination of various theodicies, which I shall undertake in the rest of this book. Coming back to the distinction between the emotional and the intellectual aspects of the problem of evil, another important reason for maintaining this distinction is indicated by the fact that sometimes people stop believing in God not because there is no reasonable answer to the problem, but because they cannot take it emotionally. It should be noted that atheists themselves would often argue that the fact that many people throughout history have felt strong emotions that God loves them does not constitute sufficient evidence that such a God exists. Indeed, many atheists would claim that belief in God is based on emotions and wish-fulfilment, whereas atheism is based on rational analysis which is more important for discerning the truth concerning whether God exists. In order to maintain rational consistency which they value, these atheists should likewise conclude that having an emotional response that ‘no loving and all-powerful God would allow this’ (De Cruz 2012) by itself does not constitute sufficient evidence for thinking that such a God does not exist. Emotions and morality are not identical. To illustrate, some people may feel nauseated at the taste of durians, whereas others feel great delight; in any case, ‘Durian tastes good/bad’ is not a moral judgment. Emotions are important, but by themselves they do not constitute adequate justification concerning whether there might be a God who permits evil for morally sufficient reasons. Hence, although it may seem harsh to state this, the fact is that our emotional states by themselves have no bearing concerning the truth of the matter (i.e.

Introduction

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whether God exists or not). Although it is understandable that cases of suffering are hard to endure, and we need to minister to the sufferer at the emotional level as mentioned previously, it is important to keep our head and to think rationally when considering the truth of the matter. Where discerning the truth of the matter is concerned, what matters are the rational arguments such as those discussed in the rest of this book. Understanding this point can set people free from an irrational rejection of God. From a therapeutic perspective, theodicy may work for some people and it may fail to work for others. However, the truth of the matter concerning whether the presence of evil refutes the existence of God is not dependent on people’s responses to theodicy, but on the soundness of the argument. Thus, even if theodicy fails as a therapy, it may still succeed as an argument. This does not imply that therapeutic considerations are not important, rather, the point here is that theodicy has its place. (There are other objections which have been raised by antitheodicists, such as their claim that theodicies seem to assume a morally faulty consequentialism. I shall answer these objections in the rest of this book.) In my subsequent discussion I shall focus on the intellectual aspect of the problem of evil. Throughout the discussion I will sometimes mention horrendous cases of evil, such as the Holocaust. Against this, Stump writes: Although it is vitally important for us to remember the Holocaust and to reflect deeply on it, taking it simply as one more example or counterexample in academic disputation on the problem of evil strikes me as unspeakably awful. It is enough for me that I am a member of the species that propagated this evil. Stricken awe in the face of it seems to me to be the only response bearable. (Stump 2010, p. 16) I appreciate Stump’s concern that using such gruesome examples may risk traumatizing the reader. However, on the one hand, not discussing such examples of horrendous suffering is vulnerable to the objection that theodicists only focus on the ‘easy’ cases of minor tribulations.3 Although such examples are useful for illustrating how suffering can be allowed for the sake of greater goods (and I shall use such illustrations as well in the rest of this book), anti-theodicists claim that they are disanalogous to those ‘hard’ cases of horrendous evil which they argue should not be allowed under any circumstance. To think otherwise (they argue) is to fail to recognize the radical qualitative severity of horrendous evils and failing to take such sufferings seriously (Betenson 2016, p. 58; I respond to their arguments in the rest of this book). On the other hand, Stump neglects the fact that sometimes unspeakably awful examples are necessary to drive the point home for some people by forcing them to think and to reflect. This point was conveyed to me by Professor David Palmer, my former colleague at University of Hong Kong. As a young man he was a materialist atheist who did not believe that there is a God or afterlife. Although many people have thought that reflecting on cases of horrendous suffering would lead a person to disbelief in God, it was a reflection

12

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on the unspeakable horrors of the Holocaust that made Palmer realize that evil does exist objectively. Like many others (e.g. atheist philosophers Friedrich Nietzsche and Alex Rosenberg [2011]), he came to the conclusion that objective evil (if it exists) presupposes objective morality which cannot be grounded in materialism but requires a Transcendent Ground. Unlike Nietzsche and Rosenberg who chose to deny objective evil and God, Palmer chose to follow the evidence of his moral perception of objective evil and embraced theism as a result (he is currently a Bahá’í).

1.3 Objective evil as a problem for atheism The previous example illustrates that the existence of objective evil is a problem not only for Christian theism but for other worldviews as well. In particular, it presents a challenge for atheism. Whereas many atheists have claimed the existence of objective evil as evidence against the existence of God, others have argued that the existence of objective evil presupposes the existence of God as the transcendent ground of objective morality; in this sense objective evil itself is best explained by theism and constitutes an evidence for God. (See the defence of the Moral Argument for the existence of God in Baggett and Walls 2016; Evans 2013. It should be noted that arguing that the presence of objective evil assumes the truth of theism is different from arguing that the problem of evil for theism assumes the truth of theism. I reject the latter argument. Indeed, I recognize that the problem of evil can be cast as arguing that theists hold incompatible beliefs, such that the problem can be pointed out even by the subjectivist naturalist. Agreeing that the problem can be framed in this way is perfectly consistent with (1) arguing that the subjectivist naturalist is nevertheless wrong on the basis of reflection on the Holocaust [as Palmer realized], (2) arguing that the wrongness of moral subjectivism [i.e. arguing that the presence of objective evil] assumes the truth of theism, and (3) rebutting the argument that theists hold incompatible beliefs). Aside from the problem of grounding objective morality, for an atheist who does not believe in God and the afterlife, what can he/she look forward to on his/her deathbed? If there is no God and no afterlife, there is no ultimate hope. For if death does end it all and if, in the words of atheist philosopher Bertrand Russell, ‘all the labours of the ages, all the devotion, all the inspiration, all the noonday brightness of human genius, are destined to extinction’ (Russell 1961, p. 67), then in this sense our situation is indeed hopeless. If there is no God and no eternal life, then this would be the consequence, regardless of what one might choose to think subjectively. The Book of Ecclesiastes underwrites the conclusions of such a purely secular naturalistic analysis, ‘the sum of which is that the world, considered on its own terms, gives no evidence of meaning or purpose’ (McFarland 2014, p. 128), and it highlights ‘the intractability of evil under conditions of material, finite existence’ (p. 131). Although this particular consequence has no bearing on the truth of the matter concerning atheism, it does highlight the inadequacy of atheism where offering hope for humankind is concerned.

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1.4 The importance of the Big Picture and an overview of the rest of this book Another important preliminary issue to consider is the need to put the problem of evil and suffering in perspective. The problem with many people’s responses to the problem of evil and suffering is that they tend to focus on the process and ignore the need to consider the Big Picture. Think of a patient going through a painful surgery. If he/she were to focus only on the painful process, the surgery would appear to be an instance of pointless suffering. However, if he/she were to focus on the bigger picture and understand that the purpose of the surgery is to address a deeper problem (e.g. to take out a tumour), then he/she would know that the suffering is for a greater good and he/she would be motivated to endure. Hence, before we address the problem of evil and suffering, we need to consider these Big Questions first: What is the greatest good? What is the meaning of life? Where do I come from? Where am I going? The well-known atheist Richard Dawkins famously claims that ‘the universe we observe has precisely the properties we should expect if there is, at bottom, no design, no purpose, no evil and no good, nothing but blind pitiless indifference’ (Dawkins 1995, pp. 131–2). This lends support to the view that, in an atheistic universe, all the supposed moral values and meaningfulness of life are without ultimate foundations but are merely superficial illusions, for everything is at bottom, no design, no purpose, no evil and no good, nothing but blind pitiless indifference. In his book The Atheist’s Guide to Reality, atheist philosopher Alex Rosenberg (2011) likewise concludes that there is no moral difference between right and wrong—a deeply troubling consequence for those who think that there is a moral difference between (say) an Adolf Hitler and a Mother Teresa and that this difference matters for living a meaningful life. Although there are atheist philosophers who disagree with Dawkins and Rosenberg and who have attempted to argue for the existence of objective morality in the absence of God (e.g. Wielenberg 2014a), their views face various difficulties such as accounting for moral obligations which seem to require a personal transcendent ground (Baggett and Walls 2016; Evans 2013).4 Other scholars have argued that Christian Theism can provide better answers to the Big Questions concerning morality and meaning of life, and also to the Big Questions concerning our ultimate origins and destiny (see Baggett and Walls 2016; Evans 2013; Walls and Dougherty 2018; Loke 2017a; 2017b; 2020a). According to Christian Theism, the greatest good is to have a right relationship with God, the source of all good. The meaning of life, therefore, is to live our lives for the greatest good; that is, to glorify God and enjoy him forever (Westminster Shorter Catechism, Q.1 and Answer; see 1 Corinthians 10:31; Romans 11:36; Psalm 73:25–28). For our lives ultimately come from God (the First Cause), and we will go to him after we die (Ecclesiastes 12:7). Christian theism affirms that there exists a perfect God who is just, loving, and all-powerful, that this God provides the foundation for objective morality, and that this God will finally defeat evil. In the rest of this book, I shall address the problem of evil in light of this Big Picture.

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In Chapter 2, I shall discuss the nature of evil, the distinction between a theodicy and a defence, the issue of burden of proof, the logical and evidential arguments from evil, and how these arguments can be rebutted using a combination of a moderate version of sceptical theism with the Cosmological and Moral Arguments for the existence of God. Establishing this conclusion does not require the specific claims of Christian theology. Nevertheless, the latter offer additional perspectives while generating further questions which I address from Chapter 3 onwards. In Chapter 3, I discuss the origin of evil and sin, the distinction between the desirative will and permissive will of God, the ‘Middle Knowledge’ account of divine providence, and the Libertarian account of creaturely freedom. I explain the traditional Christian doctrine that the Angelic Fall precedes the Fall of Humanity, and defend the Cosmic Conflict Theodicy against various objections. I go on and explain how this theodicy, in combination with other theodicies such as the Connection Building Theodicy and Afterlife Theodicy, offers a response to the problem of evolutionary evils and pre-human animal suffering in Chapter 4. In Chapter 5, I discuss the origin of human suffering. I explain that the scientific objection to the traditional Adamic Fall Theodicy has been rebutted in recent literature (Swamidass 2018; 2019; Lents 2019; Craig forthcoming), and I reply to the philosophical and theological objections. Using this theodicy, I discuss the difficult issue of Original Sin in Chapter 6. I distinguish between different understandings of the doctrine in the history of Christian thought, offer an exegetical, theological, and philosophical defence of the Corruption-Only view, and demonstrate how the extremes of the Augustine-Reformed view and Pelagianism/ semi-Pelagianism can be avoided. In engagement with the objections by Schellenberg and others, I argue in Chapter 7 that partial divine hiddenness may be necessary for moral testing, morally significant freedom, and fostering of certain virtues of humans, all of which are necessary for a growing love relationship with God and with others. Using this conclusion and the conclusions of previous chapters concerning the Cosmic Conflict Theodicy, the Afterlife Theodicy, the Adamic Fall Theodicy, and the doctrine of Original Sin, I address the problem of apparently pointless accidents, horrendous evil, and innocent suffering in Chapter 8. Finally, in Chapter 9 I address the objection ‘why fight to eradicate evil if evil is a necessary or unavoidable part or by-product in God’s providential plan for the world?’ (Trakakis 2017, p. 127), and explain some of the practical implications of the conclusions of this book.

Notes 1 The term ‘anti-theodicy’ was first brought into widespread use in Zachary Braiterman’s book, (God) After Auschwitz: Tradition and Change in Post-Holocaust Jewish Thought (Princeton University Press, 1998). 2 Thus, ‘anti-theodicy’ is a misnomer, for they are not only against theodicies but also against defences (such as those offered by sceptical theists) as well. As Trakakis (2017, p. 139) explains:

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skeptical theists … [have] more in common with theodicy than with anti-theodicy. For, according to both skeptical theists and theodicists, there are morally sufficient reasons for God’s permission of evil—it’s just that skeptical theists think that these reasons are (presently) inscrutable to us, whereas theodicists are more confident about coming to know what these reasons are or might be. See the discussion on the distinction between theodicy and defence in Chapter 2. 3 Indeed, this is arguably one of the weaknesses of Stump’s masterpiece Wandering in Darkness: Narrative and the Problem of Suffering (Oxford University Press, 2010). Stump’s book does not address some of the hardest problems of evil, such as the suffering of animals, infants, or adult human beings who are not fully mentally functional (p. 4). She also does not address objections found in more recent publications, such as newer formulations of the evidential argument from evil (Tooley 2019, pp. 48–50) and the associated problem of divine hiddenness (Schellenberg 2015a). My book avoids these weaknesses by discussing these difficult issues in detail in the subsequent chapters. 4 To summarize briefly, Baggett and Walls (2016) and Evans (2013) argue that authority is the most important distinguishing feature of moral obligations which involves (among other things) accountability, responsibility, and holds for persons simply as persons. Impersonal things and properties cannot give us any moral duty nor hold us accountable for what we ought to do, thus they cannot give us obligations nor are we obligated to them.

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2.1 The nature of evil Broadly speaking, evil refers to ‘any bad state of affairs, wrongful action, or character flaw’ (Calder 2018).1 Many philosophers distinguish between two categories of evil: moral evil and natural evil.2 Moral evils (e.g. murder and lying) are bad states of affairs which result from the intentions or negligence of moral agents (Calder 2018). On the other hand, a natural evil is a ‘suffering due to earthquake, disease and the like … that can not be ascribed to the free action of human beings’ (Plantinga 1998, p. 48; it should be noted, however, that Plantinga and others have argued that certain instances of natural evils could have been caused by free actions of moral agents such as the devil; see Chapter 3). On the basis of the foregoing distinction, it can be argued that natural evil and/or suffering is not necessarily morally bad, and that a morally perfect God can cause natural evil but not moral evil (see Chapter 3). Augustine famously defended Plotinus’ notion that evil is privatio boni, that is, a privation or lack of good (see Plotinus’ Enneads I,8,3; I,8,7). This is not to say that evil does not exist or that evil is an illusion: The privation thesis is not a thesis about the existence of evil but a thesis about the nature of evil … it is the claim that evil is not a positive substance, that is, not an individual thing (unlike e.g., a cat which is an individual thing), but a lack of a certain property, the absence of good. (Woudenberg 2013, p. 179) This does not mean that every kind of lack is evil or that everything that is negative for a being is evil. Rather, what is evil is a lack of a kind of goodness; something is evil if it is not what it ought to be (Augustine 2009, p. 600); for example, something that is contrary to the commands of God or the desirative will of God (see Chapter 3). ‘Because he believed that all virtues are properly described as forms of love, Augustine’s central example of such a corruption was loves that have been twisted so that they no longer serve the good of lovers or beloved’ (Couenhoven 2016, p. 183).

DOI: 10.4324/9781003265689-2

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Against the privation theory, it has been objected that it does not seem to be able to account for certain paradigmatic evils, such as the evil of pain which is not the privation of pleasure but a distinct phenomenological experience which is positively bad, and a sadistic torturer who has (rather than lacks) certain qualities which are positively bad, viz. she desires her victims’ suffering for pleasure (Calder 2018). Defenders of the privation account have answered that these cases fit their view on deeper analysis. For example, the phenomenological experience of pain is not necessarily positively bad, its unpleasantness can have an important function of alerting an organism to an injury that has occurred and urging it to seek remediation (Grant 2015): The ability to experience pain—whether that be the pain of a stubbed toe, or the experience of frustration when a complex task cannot be performed as well as one might like—is a fact of finitude, part of the natural order created by God. Thus, it is good. (Couenhoven 2016, p. 185) When the unpleasantness of pain outstrips its usefulness and becomes seriously debilitating, it is the privation of the organism’s normal functioning, for example the debilitation that results from the pain, which is evil. With regards to the desires of the sadistic torturer, the fundamental reason they are morally bad is their lack of conformity to the moral standard (Grant 2015).

2.2 The logical argument from evil There are various forms of argument from evil against God which have been formulated by atheists, sceptics, and misotheists3 (for ease of exposition, in this book I shall refer to the proponents of the argument from evil against God as atheists or sceptics, although it should be noted that more than one group is being referred to; moreover, unless otherwise stated, by ‘God’ I mean a being who is all knowing, all powerful, and all good [this list of attributes is not exhaustive]). One of them is known as the logical argument from evil, which attempts to demonstrate a logical contradiction between the existence of God and the presence of evil. The argument is often formulated in this way: 1 2 3 4 5

If God is all knowing, he knows when evil might exist. If God is all powerful, he can prevent evil. If God is all good, he would prevent evil. Evil exists. Therefore, an all-knowing, all-powerful, and all-good God does not exist.

2.3 Theodicy, defence, and burden of proof For philosopher David Hume (1779/1993, pp. 100–1), the logical problem of evil seems to be an intractable problem, but other philosophers do not think so. In his response to the problem of evil, Alvin Plantinga (1974) distinguishes between a

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‘defence’ and a ‘theodicy.’ He regards a theodicy as an attempt to provide an account of why God (if he exists) actually permits the evils in the world, whereas a defence is an attempt to provide an account of the possible reasons which God (if he exists) might have for permitting the evils in the world, and/or why we might not know of these reasons even if they exist. Since the argument from evil is raised by the atheist as an argument against the existence of God, the atheist bears burden of proof. To rebut this argument, the theist only has to suggest possibilities which the atheist has failed to rule out (without having to prove that any of these possibilities is actual) in order to show that the atheist has failed to prove his/her case that evil is incompatible with God’s existence. Therefore, for the purpose of rebutting the atheist’s argument, a defence would be sufficient, although I shall be discussing both defence and theodicy in what follows. In particular, in the later chapters of this book I shall be discussing various explanations for why God allows evil that are grounded in the Christian Scripture. A Christian who accepts the authority of Scripture would regard these explanations as theodicies. For a non-Christian who does not accept the authority of Scripture, he/she can regard these explanations as defences (i.e. possible explanations) which the atheist would need to bear the burden of proof to exclude. Many would question the truth of premise 3 and ask, ‘But could it be that God allows evil for good purposes?’ Throughout history, many philosophers and religious traditions from East and West have recognized that evil can be allowed for good purposes. For example, the great Chinese philosopher Mencius wrote that, before a person is given a great task, he must first undergo tough training which involves suffering.4 (For other examples, see the Soul-Making Theodicy famously defended by philosopher John Hick [2007].) James 1:2–4 says, ‘Consider it all joy, my brethren, when you encounter various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces endurance. And let endurance have its perfect result, so that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing.’ Even some atheists agree. For example, Nietzsche (Thus Spoke Zarathustra) writes, ‘I test the power of a will according to the amount of resistance it can offer and the amount of pain and torture it can endure and know how to turn to its own advantage.’

2.4 Free will defence and transworld depravity Sceptics might ask, ‘Since God is omnipotent, why cannot he achieve all these good purposes without evil?’ This question is based on the assumption that ‘there are no limits to what an omnipotent thing can do’ (Mackie 1990, p. 26), but this assumption is false; an omnipotent being could not have created a shapeless square, for example, because there is no such thing (Loke 2010). Likewise: God can create free creatures, but He can’t cause or determine them to do only what is right. For if He does so, then they aren’t significantly free after all; they do not do what is right freely. To create creatures capable of moral good, therefore, He must create creatures capable of moral evil. (Plantinga 1977, p. 30)

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One might object that, since according to many Christian theologians God is morally good but he is not capable of choosing moral evil (McFarland 2016, pp. 316–17), why cannot God create humans that are similar to him in this respect (Schellenberg 2013a, pp. 43–4)? This objection, however, fails to note that Plantinga’s reasoning only applies to creatures. If God is the Good as many theologians affirm, he would not need to freely choose to relate to the Good in order to be morally valuable, since he himself is identical with the Good and is morally valuable in virtue of that. Thus, there is no need for him to possess such a freedom in order to be morally valuable. Whereas the freedom to choose good or evil is morally valuable for creatures to have, because they can freely choose to relate to the Good without being ‘programmed’ to do so. Moreover, one can argue that morally valuable freedom for creatures means having the freedom to choose good or evil at some point in the creature’s life before his/her eternal destiny is decided. In other words, it is valuable for creatures to have such a freedom at some point in the creature’s life on earth, not necessarily to have it in heaven (see further, Chapter 3). I would argue that such a freedom is not intrinsically valuable but instrumentally valuable, because it is important for the moral value of creatures that they are ultimately responsible for their characters which are the result of their earlier free choices (Choo and Goh 2019, pp. 39–40). One might ask, ‘But if God already knows what each free creature would choose, why couldn’t he create only those creatures whom he knows would always freely choose good (even if they could freely choose evil), such that evil would not exist?’ Schellenberg (2015a, pp. 65–6) asks why should we suppose that a God would create us, or people like us, including those who are morally weak? Why mightn’t God create very different people? Plantinga replies using the notion of Transworld Depravity (TWD), which can be understood as follows (following the amendments by Otte 2009, which Plantinga 2009, pp. 181–2 acknowledges): An essence suffers from transworld depravity iff for every world W such that E entails the properties is significantly free in W and always does what is right in W, there is a time t and action A at t such that (1) A is morally significant for E’s instantiation in W at t, and (2) If God had (weakly) actualized the initial segment of W up to t, E’s instantiation would have gone wrong with respect to A. Rea (2007, pp. 347–52) observes that according to the TWD-account each of us has the power to prevent our suffering from TWD (thus each person is responsible for his/her TWD). The reason is that, for any counterfactual of freedom C that is true of P, P has the power to prevent C from being (or having been) true of her. Plantinga suggests (1) it might be the case that every creaturely essence does in fact suffer from transworld depravity, such that any world that God could actualize containing significantly free creatures would include evil done by those

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creatures (Plantinga 1974, pp. 186, 189). Alternatively, (2) it might be the case that only a few creaturely essences do not suffer from transworld depravity, such that even if God could ‘actualize a world including moral good but no moral evil,’ such a world would include far less ‘moral good’ than this world or would include only a few persons (Plantinga 1974, p. 190). In other words: it is possible that God could not have created a universe containing moral good (or as much moral good as this world contains) without creating one that also contained moral evil. And if so, then it is possible that God has a good reason for creating a world containing evil. (Plantinga 1977, p. 31) Additionally, (3) it might also be the case that ‘God cannot (morally or without contravening love) exclude certain creatures’ existence for the sole purpose of denying their ability to depart from God’s ideal will’ (Peckham 2018, p. 143; see further Section 2.4 and Chapters 3 and 4, where I explain that a perfect God does not have to create a perfect creation; rather, it depends on his purpose for creation). Against possibility (1), it has been objected that, given an infinite number of possible persons, it is unlikely that every creaturely essence does in fact suffer from transworld depravity. As Rasmussen (2004, pp. 459–60) puts it, if the number of personal essences is infinite, the probability that every essence suffers from transworld depravity is zero. Now, one might question the inference using the following illustration: the number of natural numbers is infinite, but it does not follow that the probability that every natural number falls short of actual infinity is zero—on the contrary, the probability is 1! The lesson here is that it is an invalid inference to reason from the number of entities to the probability of their characteristics, without further assumptions. Rasmussen adds the further assumption using the probabilistic principle of counterfactuals (PPC): for every counterfactual of creaturely freedom, C, 0 < Pr(C/K) < 1, where K is the collection of necessary propositions, and he notes that PPC is based on the supposition that, if there are counterfactuals of creaturely freedom, then they are metaphysically contingent (Rasmussen 2004, p. 458). However, as I shall argue in Chapter 6, one can postulate an alternative account of counterfactuals of freedom involving essential property of personhood, according to which Rasmussen’s supposition is rejected (this account also answers the grounding objection to Molinism). The atheist would need to bear the burden of proof to exclude this alternative account in order to rule out Plantinga’s defence using TWD. In any case, even if I am wrong on this point, one can consider possibilities (2) and (3) as aforementioned.

2.5 Argument from the origin of evil A sceptic might ask: why wouldn’t God be the source of moral evil? This question is particularly relevant for traditional Christian theology given its affirmation that God is the First Cause of the universe and given its rejection of Cosmic Dualism and the Gnostic belief that the material world is inherently evil. As noted earlier,

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according to the privation theory of evil, evil is the absence of good. Following Augustine, one might say that ‘when God created all things, he caused the existence only of positive realities, not of privations. And hence it allows him to say that God is not the cause of evil, even though he is the cause of everything’ (Woudenberg 2013, p. 179). However, this does not answer the question of how the privation began to exist. A logical argument against the existence of God has been formulated by Oppy like this: Characterization of God: If God exists, God is the perfect ex nihilo creator of our universe. Datum: Our universe is imperfect. Link 1: The actions of a perfect being cannot decrease the degree of perfection of the world. Link 2: If God exists, then, prior to all creation, the world is perfect. (Oppy 2017, p. 54) Oppy thinks that Link 1 seems obvious: how could it be consistent with the possession of perfection that a being acts to make the world less perfect than it was previously (Oppy 2017, p. 54; see also Schellenberg 2013a)? The answer is that a perfect being—precisely because of his perfect goodness and love—might freely create creatures (e.g. angels, humans) that have significantly morally valuable freedom (see Section 2.4) for his perfectly loving purpose of wanting to bless these creatures, and this entails the possibility that these creatures might freely choose to make the world less perfect than it was previously (see further Chapters 3 and 4, where I also explain that, in any case, a perfect God does not have to create a perfect creation; rather, it depends on his purpose for creation). Vitale (2020, p. 170) notes that: If creation is primarily an act of love, then evaluating that act primarily on comparisons of value is a category mistake … . God is not just after benefits for objects of love, but rather he is after the individuals who are the objects of love. He is after them because he finds them loveable, and loveableness as a quality is very different from a measurement of value. An economic model— whereby costs are evaluated solely for their instrumental use in acquiring greater goods—may be useful when buying a home, but I agree with Adams that ‘[i]n some areas of human life … and particularly where certain kinds of personal relationship are concerned, the economic model is grossly inadequate for an understanding of what is involved in being good to people.’5 One might object that, if God (suppose God is the First Cause) has reasons for creation (for example, to bless creatures), then the decision to create is made as a result of those reasons, and the decision would be determined by those reasons and hence is not free but occurred by necessity. The answer is that those reasons can be understood as a necessary condition but not a sufficient condition for the decision, which can therefore still be caused and

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free. The intention can be one which is freely chosen. Thus, suppose (for example) God—because of his perfect goodness and love—freely created a universe with humans who have significantly morally valuable freedom for his loving purpose of wanting to bless these creatures with the knowledge of himself who is the Good. In this case, having reasons to bless creatures does not imply that he has to bless creatures, neither does it imply that God could not have refrained from creating initially. The reasons for creation are not coercive, there might also be reasons for not creating, there may well be goods (related to creating and not-creating) which are incommensurable, and even among equal value options there may be variation (Pruss 2016). Hence God did not create out of necessity. According to the Christian tradition, God by definition (ex hypothesi) is a free agent who is perfect and therefore has no need; a perfect agent would not experience any insufficiency and hence would have no need to express himself in creative acts or self-glorification. Rather, he created out of perfectly free love for creatures, and in this way manifested his perfection, i.e. his glory.

2.6 Argument from ignorance and sceptical theism Many atheists object that, even though suffering can work for good purposes in some cases as highlighted by Mencius and Nietzsche, nevertheless there has been too much unjustified suffering (gratuitous evils). Many theists reply that, ‘given the gulf between God’s knowledge and our knowledge, it seems unreasonable to expect that we could know the God-justifying reason for every case of evil, even if such a reason were to exist’ (Ganssle and Lee 2013, p. 15). If there is a God who is omniscient, he would know what finite humans do not perceive. The good which God intends may emerge many years later at another location to another person, or it may emerge in the afterlife. As will be shown in the rest of this book, whether there is an afterlife or not is relevant to many issues related to the problem of evil. Many atheists assume that there is no afterlife. However, on the one hand, they have not offered any sound argument to exclude the possibility that there is a God who could resurrect people and animals to eternal life. On the other hand, others have argued against the assumption that there is no afterlife by citing evidences for substance dualism (e.g. Near Death Experiences) and replying to objections (Habermas 2018; Moreland 2018). The affirmation of an afterlife does not imply that this life does not matter, on the contrary, most cultures and traditions throughout history have recognized that what happens in the final culmination is importantly determined by what is done here on earth (Cottingham 2017, p. 17). Cottingham argues that at the end of the day, what makes a life meaningful is above all the striving to hold fast to the good even in the midst of suffering, and what ineluctably erodes meaningfulness is not the evil to which people are subjected but their turning away from the good (p. 20). He notes: the Socratic intuition, widely shared by those of many faiths and of none, that it is better to suffer evil than to do it. So it will follow, for example, that

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Abel had a more meaningful life than Cain, because the former, though his life was cruelly cut short by the murderous attack of his brother, lived a life that was good and worthwhile, whereas Cain, by indulging his envy and murderous anger, ended up as a ‘wanderer on the face of the earth,’ living the futile existence of one who had wasted his life by giving way to evil (Genesis 4:14). (Cottingham 2017, pp. 17–18) Stump (2018, pp. 40–1) likewise argues that ‘the suffering that human injustice causes to some people cannot take away from them their chance at flourishing,’ citing the example of Sophie Scholl who as a young woman was executed by the Nazis for her resistance and yet her life has inspired many around the world. She concludes that saying this, ‘is not to validate the horrors that some human beings perpetrate on others. It is only to say that the human spirit is able to defy such injustice and shine in loveliness worth honouring even so’ (Stump 2018, p. 41). It might be objected that being the victims of serious evil can bring about an irreparable disorientation and apparent loss of meaning in life as the ravages of evil disrupt their lives beyond healing. In reply, it should be noted that there is a difference between subjective and objective meaningfulness (Campbell and Nyholm 2015). A devoted Nazi may feel that his life is very meaningful, even though ‘he is in fact devoting himself to a cruel and pointless enterprise based on false and confused ideas about race and … his life is, unbeknownst to him, a meaningless waste of all his efforts’ (Campbell and Nyholm 2015, pp. 18–19). On the other hand, a person who has sought to hold fast to what is truly good would have lived an objectively meaningful life, even if he suffered from irreparable disorientation and disruption of life beyond healing (see further, Chapter 8). The crucial assumption that underlies the dispute between theists and atheists concerning whether or not there is a morally sufficient reason for God to allow suffering may well be their different standards of moral good and the different understandings of a good human life (Stump 2018, p. 16). As Marilyn Adams observes: Insofar as the highest human happiness is usually conceived of as involving some relation to the best good(s), and moral precepts direct humans to their individual and collective ends, different ontologies will produce different accounts of the human good and varying moral precepts. (Adams 1999, p. 12) The problems for the atheist in this dispute are that (1) the atheist bears the burden of proof to rule out the theist’s understanding of moral good and a good human life; (2) as shown by the Moral Argument for the existence of God, it is questionable whether atheism can even ground an understanding of objective morality without God; and (3) there may be some moral goods which are perceived by an omniscient God which are not perceived by cognitively limited humans.

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Using the acronym CORNEA (Condition on Reasonable Epistemic Access), philosopher Stephen Wykstra has argued that the inference from ‘it appears that there is no good that would justify God in allowing this evil’ to ‘hence, probably there is no good that would so justify God’ is invalid, just as the inference from ‘it appears that there are no germs on this needle’ to ‘hence, probably there are no germs on the needle’ is invalid (Perrine and Wykstra 2017, p. 88). In a similar vein, Bergmann (2009) has argued that we have no good reason for thinking that the possible goods we know of are representative of the possible goods there are. It might be objected that, just as we can know that some acts are morally wrong (e.g. we know that it was wrong of Hitler to kill the Jews) even though we are cognitively limited, likewise we can know that it is wrong for any being (God or otherwise) to allow such acts to happen even though we are cognitively limited. For example, Ekstrom (2021, p. 17) argues that it is reasonable and part of many of our experiences of and commonsensical reactions to the world to ‘see aspects of the world as unjustifiably bad, such that it seems “that evil is unjustifiable,” for instance, or “God would never allow that”.’ In reply, we know that it was wrong of Hitler to kill the Jews because we know that his intention was wrong (he was not doing this to benefit the Jews but to fulfil his murderous intent) and he had no right to take away the lives of others in this manner. However, one might argue that there is no good reason to think that it would be wrong for God to allow this to happen, because we do not have good reasons to think that God’s intention was wrong and that he does not have the right to allow lives to be taken away in this manner for some (perhaps unknown) good purpose (see further, Chapter 8). Moreover, we do not have good reasons to think that God would not work things out for those who suffered what they did not deserve in such a way that the evil they suffered will eventually be defeated in the lives of the sufferers, whether in this life or the next. The foregoing approach to the problem of evil which highlights the fact that there might be moral reasons which we might not know about for why God allows evil is often called sceptical theism, although it should be noted that this term is a misnomer because it can be embraced not only by theists but by atheists, agnostics, pantheists, etc., and there is nothing especially sceptical about epistemic humility (Perrine and Wykstra 2017, p. 87), and there is a variety of sceptical theisms. One does not have to accept the more extreme versions which claim that we are not able to know any evidence for God’s existence and/or that we are not able to know any of the goods which God intends for allowing suffering (see the version criticized in Tooley 2019, pp. 48–50); extreme versions of sceptical theism would lead to implausible and self-undermining global scepticism. Rather, the Core Conditional of sceptical theism is seen as ‘expressing a conditional epistemic humility about the scope of our grasp of God’s cosmic purposes and plans’ (Perrine and Wykstra 2017, p. 86). Moderate versions of sceptical theism are based on what we should expect given the evidences of God’s wisdom (see next paragraph). Goff (2019, p. 107) notes that theists can try to come up with explanations for why God would allow suffering, but he objects that this can seem like special pleading or ad hoc alterations. However, this objection would not work if the

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explanations given are justified on the basis of reasons/evidences or the explanations follow from the postulation of theism itself. For example, Goff (2019, p. 107) complains that the observation that life had come about through the gruesome process of natural selection falsified theism. However, he fails to note that reasons have been given to show that choosing to care for the weak, lonely, and vulnerable is a harder thing for humans to do in a Darwinian world, and this makes moral behaviour such as freely choosing to care for those in need to be of great value, and hence God who cares about such moral value chose to create a Darwinian world in which moral behaviours that are of such great value can exist (Peels 2018). Moreover, the wonders of nature which include the incomprehensible degree of fine tuning and the ‘very advanced mathematics’ involved in constructing the universe (Dirac 1963) indicate that the Creator’s wisdom far exceeds ours. Given the evidence for the existence of such a God (Loke 2017a), ‘we should not expect to grasp more than a small fraction of either the goods which lead God to act as God acts (including divine acts of allowing evil) or the constraints that make such divine allowings needful’ (Perrine and Wykstra 2017, p. 86). Therefore, even though we may not know the reason why God allows certain instances of suffering, that does not mean there is no good reason which is known to God. Saying this does not preclude knowledge (or reasonable belief) of God’s existence, attributes, or some of the goods God intends which, according to Christian theism, have been revealed by God himself in Scripture. Thus, on this view, ‘it is possible that the claims of skeptical theism about unaided human reason be entirely correct, and yet that there nonetheless be a successful theodicy available to human beings’ (Stump 2010, pp. 14–15). Ekstrom disagrees; she thinks that there is an awkward incongruity within someone who claims that he/she knows some things about God but not others. She writes: Consider the case of a theist who bases his belief in God on a teleological argument, so that God is viewed as the best, or part of the best, explanation for the order, apparent design, and functionality in the universe. This theist considers his belief in God to be justified at least in part by thoughts about how God would act, of what God would do in forming the universe. But if this theist is a skeptical theist, then on the matter of explaining the seemingly pointless terrible aspects of the world, he is agnostic or thinks that no one has justified beliefs attributing pointlessness. He claims justified belief in the first matter, but skepticism concerning what explains the rotten features of the world, so he has an explanation for the good features, but not for the apparently pointless bad ones. It seems reasonable to think that this stance of ignorance or skepticism is in tension with his affirmation of belief in the case of the explanation of the order and functionality in the universe. (Ekstrom 2021, pp. 123–4) In reply, first, Ekstrom does not consider the Cosmological Argument for the existence of God, which deduces the existence of God from the existence of the

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cosmos without requiring knowledge or assumptions about how God would act or what God would do in forming the universe (see Loke 2017a; forthcoming a). Second, with regards to the Teleological Argument, I argue in Loke (forthcoming a) that one can argue from exclusion without requiring knowledge or assumptions about how God would act or what God would do in forming the universe. To illustrate, if one were to discover in the midst of a jungle a factory which has the capacity for making motorcars, one would reasonably conclude that it was designed even if some of the equipment in the factory were imperfect. The reason is because it is unreasonable to think that the components of the factory were brought together and assembled by Chance, Regularity, or Combinations of Regularity and Chance, or that the factory began to exist Uncaused, and as argued in Loke (forthcoming a) the only remaining explanation is Design. The fact that we do not know what reasons the designer may have for allowing for the imperfections in the equipment in the factory does not refute the conclusion of Design. Likewise, the stance of ignorance concerning the reasons God may have for allowing suffering is compatible with the affirmation that the best explanation of the order and functionality in the universe is God (the Designer), for as I argue in Loke (forthcoming a) the alternatives of Chance, Regularity, Combinations of Regularity and Chance, and Uncaused can be ruled out. In response to the arguments of sceptical theism, atheist philosopher Paul Draper (2007, p. 146) acknowledges that ‘I do not see how it is possible to construct a convincing logical argument from evil against theism,’ explaining that: Suppose, then, that some good, G, that is worth my suffering … logically implies that I suffer (or that God permits me to suffer). This certainly seems possible … . Such goods would be known to an all-knowing being even if they are beyond our ken. Further, if there are such goods, then not even an all-powerful and all-knowing being could produce them without allowing me to suffer and hence even an all-powerful and all-knowing being could have a good moral reason to permit my suffering. (p. 146) Nevertheless, Draper (2001; 2017) does not think that the sceptical theism approach undermines his abductive version of the evidential argument from evil. He hypothesizes that, if supernatural beings exist, they are indifferent to human suffering (HI), and he has argued that the huge amount of suffering in this world makes much more sense and is far less surprising on HI than on theism (see also Tooley 2019, pp. 48–50; Bernáth and Kodaj 2020). There are at least two problems with Draper’s arguments. First, van Inwagen has replied that we are in no position to evaluate whether HI explains the data of evil better than theism, if there is a version of theism such that (i) the probability of the data, given that version, is high and (ii) we are in no position to determine how likely that version is, given theism (Perrine and Wykstra 2017, p. 93; citing van Inwagen 1996). It has been argued that one such possible version of theism is the Cosmic Conflict model, given which an enormous amount of suffering would be expected (Peckham 2018).

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Draper (2017, pp. 80–1) objects to van Inwagen by claiming that unless such a version of theism is, independent of our knowledge of the data of good and evil, sufficiently likely given theism, it will not undermine the premise of his argument that ‘physicalism fits the data of good and evil much better than Theism does.’ However, as explained earlier, it is Draper who would need to bear the burden of proof to prove his premise and his argument, hence it is Draper who would need to prove that such a version of theism is, independent of our knowledge of the data of good and evil, not sufficiently likely given theism, but he has failed to accomplish that, for example, with respect to the Cosmic Conflict model. I shall discuss this possible model in the subsequent sections of this book. Second, where comparing HI and theism is concerned, we should consider not only the presence of evil but also other arguments for or against theism, such as the Cosmological, Moral, and Historical Arguments for the existence of God (Tooley’s so-called Equiprobability6 Evidential Arguments from Evil fail to note the Moral Argument; see Tooley 2019, pp. 35, 52–3) and the divine hiddenness argument against God. (The arguments for theism have been defended elsewhere [see Baggett and Walls 2016; Evans 2013; Walls and Dougherty 2018; Loke 2017a; 2017b; 2020a]; I respond to the hiddenness argument in Chapter 7.) If the former arguments which constitute a cumulative case for theism are sound and the arguments against theism are not, then theism is established, and this implies that the presence of an enormous amount of suffering will have to be explained by some versions of theism as noted earlier. Some have claimed that sceptical theism seems to imply the absurd consequence that virtually no amount of evil would disconfirm theism—not even an utterly hellish world in which all creatures are in intense suffering during their entire endless existence (cf. Wilks 2009, pp. 68–9). Stump (2010, p. 460) replies that if all psychological research showed no posttraumatic growth, or if our own experience or the experience of others were always only of psychic disintegration in consequence of suffering, that would count against her defence in response to the problem of evil. Bergmann replies that sceptical theism can be conjoined with other principles which would preclude such a hellish world (Bergmann 2009, p. 390). For example, one such principle might be that a good God would not let any of his creatures suffer such a hellish existence if the creature is not guilty of any moral evil that would deserve such a suffering as retributive punishment. The unjust sufferings which we have observed so far have not disconfirmed this principle, given that those we have observed so far are transient in the sense that they end when the creature dies. As noted earlier, the good which God intends may emerge in the afterlife in which the creature may be in transcendental bliss during its entire endless existence. Accepting the conclusion that it is unreasonable to expect that we could know the God-justifying reason for every case of evil does not imply accepting global sceptical beliefs such as (say) the world was created five minutes ago with the memories we have (cf. Russell 2018; Law 2014; 2015), or that it is just as reasonable to think that God might be deceiving us (Wielenberg 2010; 2014b), and neither does it imply agnosticism. The fact that we do not know everything does

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not mean that we do not know anything. There are plenty of things we can know on the basis of reason and evidence, and it has been argued that there are reasons and evidences for the existence of a Creator (Loke 2017a) who is perfectly good (see the defence of the Moral Argument in Baggett and Walls 2016; Evans 2013). Such a good God would not deceive us but would have good reasons for allowing suffering and for temporarily hiding himself to a certain extent such that we do not presently know many of his reasons for allowing suffering (see the discussion on moral testing and divine hiddenness in Chapter 7). Moreover, unlike the belief that the world was created five minutes ago which we have no reason to accept, we do have reason to accept sceptical theism given the evidence for theism (see the previous reply to Goff) and given the evidence that suffering can lead to good which is manifested only later (this fact is recognized by many, including the sufferers themselves; see the real-life stories of people discussed in the rest of this book).7 In addition to the Moral Argument which is consonant with what Paul says in Romans 2:14–15 concerning the moral law written in the hearts of people, other evidence of God’s goodness includes his provision of ‘rains from heaven and fruitful seasons, and filling you with food and your hearts with joy’ (Acts 14:17). Draper (2017, pp. 78–9) objects by claiming that ‘when it comes to the desires of the heart, tragedy and heartbreak are more common on earth than triumph and the fulfillment of one’s dreams and aspirations.’ Nevertheless, the fact remains that most people do think that it is on balance good and worthwhile to live on even though there is so much suffering (those who commit suicide are a minority). Nagasawa (2018, p. 154) calls ‘existential optimism’ the ‘thesis according to which the world is, overall, a good place and we should be grateful for our existence in it,’ and remarks that ‘existential optimism is widely embraced not only by theists but also by atheists’ (p. 155; he notes that existential optimism does not requires that the world be good, on the whole, for each and every sentient being; only that the world be good overall, p. 173). Consider Dawkins’ acknowledgement that: When I lie on my back and look up at the Milky Way on a clear night and see the vast distances of space and reflect that these are also vast differences of time as well, when I look at the Grand Canyon and see the strata going down, down, down, through periods of time when the human mind can’t comprehend, I’m overwhelmingly filled with a sense of, almost worship … it’s a feeling of sort of an abstract gratitude that I am alive to appreciate these wonders. When I look down a microscope it’s the same feeling: I am grateful to be alive to appreciate these wonders. (Dawkins 2009) Nagasawa (2018) argues that we should not feel this way if our existence depends fundamentally on a violent, cruel, and unfair biological system which involves extreme competition for survival all the time and which guarantees pain and suffering for uncountably many sentient animals (p. 156). This ‘problem of systemic

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evil’ is more serious for atheism than theism, for atheism typically postulates the material world as all there is and that death is the end (p. 160). Although we should try to make the world a better place, ‘the problem of systemic evil will remain because, ultimately, we cannot eliminate natural selection, which governs nature’ (p. 173). Whereas, theism can address this problem because its range of ontology is wider than atheism (p. 160). For example, theism postulates that there is a God who can bring about an afterlife in which suffering animals can be redeemed. Thus ‘existential optimism is more compatible with theism than with atheism … . Hope even for “the beasts” is possible from a theistic viewpoint, but not from an atheistic one’ (Tilley 2018, p. 167). Moreover, unlike the argument against God from evil and suffering, the Cosmological Argument and Moral Argument are not based on gaps in our knowledge nor are they affected by it. Rather, these arguments are based on reasons formulated as deductive proofs. One objection which has been raised against sceptical theism is that it does not tell us why we should not at least be in doubt about the excellence of God’s love towards the victims of suffering (Rea 2018, p. 88). In reply, this objection can be answered by combining sceptical theism with the Moral Argument. Sceptical theism rebuts the problem of evil, while the Moral Argument demonstrates the existence of a morally perfect God who would therefore be loving towards innocent victims. Contrary to Draper and many others who have argued that the logical argument from evil is ‘dead,’ Oppy (2017, p. 45) claims that there may be other yet-unexamined types of logical arguments from evil which have not yet been ‘killed.’ Oppy analyses the essential structure of logical arguments from evil in terms of three components: 1 The Characterisation of God. For example, if God exists, God is the omnipotent, omniscient, perfectly good, perfectly free creator ex nihilo of our universe. 2 The Datum, for example, there is a massive amount of horrendous suffering in our universe that is not due to human agency. 3 The Link: There are many different claims that can serve as the link in logical arguments from evil. (Oppy 2017, pp. 46–7) For example, a link may consist of the following two claims: L1: An omnipotent, omniscient being could have prevented the truth of the datum without thereby losing some greater good or permitting some evil equally bad or worse. L2: An omniscient, perfectly good being would prevent the truth of the datum unless it could not do so without thereby losing some greater good or permitting some evil equally bad or worse. (Oppy 2017, p. 48) Given L1 and L2, a logical contradiction is demonstrated between (1) the characterization of God and (2) the datum.

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Indeed, theists do not have to be committed to L1, which can be reasonably denied. For as Plantinga et al. have demonstrated, being omnipotent does not entail the ability to do (say) what is logically impossible, such as creating a shapeless square given that a square is a shape. Likewise, given that an omnipotent, omniscient being has given certain creatures morally significant freedom, it might be the case that—for all we know—God could not have prevented the truth of the datum without thereby losing some greater good or permitting some evil equally bad or worse. The atheist would need to bear the burden of proof to exclude this (I reply to Oppy’s other formulations of the argument from evil elsewhere in this book). Oppy (2017, pp. 61–2) objects that if merely finding a claim that is logically consistent with the characterizing claim and which entails the data is sufficient to kill an argument (e.g. the logical argument from evil), then it would be sufficient to kill the argument for theism too. He writes: Consider the conjunction of the following set of claims: There is a network of global natural states. These global natural states are linearly ordered under the causal relation. There is an initial global natural state that has no cause; all other global natural states are caused by prior global natural states and by nothing other than prior global natural states. Local causal relations all align perfectly with global causal relations. Since the conjunction of this set of claims is plainly logically consistent with the characterising claim and entails all of the data, the conjunction of this set of claims satisfies the conditions that Plantinga says suffice for a defence against a logical argument. (Oppy 2017, pp. 61–2; italics in original) However, merely finding a claim that is logically consistent with the characterizing claim and which entails the data is not sufficient; the claim must also not have been shown to be false. In the case of Oppy’s claims, his claim that ‘There is an initial global natural state that has no cause’ is falsified by the Cosmological Argument which demonstrates that the initial state of reality must be a beginningless entity with libertarian freedom, i.e. a Creator of the universe rather than a natural state (Loke 2017a, Chapter 6; forthcoming a).

2.7 Conclusion Since the argument from evil is raised by the atheist as an argument against the existence of God, the atheist bears burden of proof. Therefore, for the purpose of

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rebutting the atheist’s argument, a defence would be sufficient, although I shall be using both defence and theodicy in what follows. In particular, in the later chapters I shall be examining various explanations for why God allows evil that are grounded in the Christian Scripture. A Christian who accepts the authority of Scripture would regard these explanations as theodicies. For a non-Christian who does not accept the authority of Scripture, he/she can regard these explanations as defences (i.e. possible explanations) which the atheist would need to bear the burden of proof to exclude. (Likewise, with regards to the various possible understandings of narratives of Scripture which Stump [2010] has used to address the problem of evil, the burden of proof would be on the atheist to exclude these as the correct understanding of those narratives.) Many theists have replied to the logical problem of evil by arguing that a good God might allow evil for a good purpose. Just as an omnipotent being could not have created a shapeless square, likewise, ‘God can create free creatures, but He can’t cause or determine them to do only what is right. For if He does so, then they aren’t significantly free after all’ (Plantinga 1977, p. 30). Given that an omnipotent, omniscient being has given certain creatures morally significant freedom which is morally valuable, it might be the case that—for all we know—God could not have prevented evil without thereby losing some greater good or permitting some evil equally bad or worse (contra Oppy 2017). For given the gulf between divine knowledge and ours, we should not expect to grasp more than a small fraction of either the goods which lead God to act as God acts (including divine acts of allowing evil) or the constraints that make such divine allowings needful (Perrine and Wykstra 2017, p. 86). The good which God intends may emerge many years later at another location to another person, or it may emerge in the afterlife. In reply to Schellenberg (2015a), I have explained why the freedom to choose evil is morally valuable for creatures to have, but not necessary for God. Contrary to Oppy (2017), a perfect God does not have to create a perfect creation; rather, it depends on his purpose for creation. The objection that it is unlikely that every creaturely essence suffers from transworld depravity given an infinite number of possible persons (Rasmussen 2004) can be replied to by postulating an account of counterfactuals of freedom involving essential property of personhood. Concerning Draper’s (2001) evidential argument from evil, we should consider whether there is a version of theism such that (i) the probability of the data, given that version, is high and (ii) we are in no position to determine how likely that version is, given theism (van Inwagen 1996). It has been argued that one such possible version of theism is the Cosmic Conflict model, given which an enormous amount of suffering would be expected (Peckham 2018; see Chapter 3). Additionally, we should consider not only the presence of evil but also other arguments for or against theism. I have argued, contrary to Ekstrom (2021) and Oppy (2017), that moderate versions of sceptical theism do not undermine the Cosmological and Teleological Arguments for the existence of God. Moreover, unlike the Cosmological Argument for the existence of God (Loke 2017a), the argument from evil against the existence of God commits the fallacy of arguing from ignorance,

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i.e. ignorance of the justifying goods which an omniscient and good God (if he exists) would know about and for which he allows evil. This fallacy underlies all types of logical and evidential arguments from evil. Establishing this conclusion does not require the specific claims of Christian theology, and it is already sufficient to rebut the argument from evil. It is the contention of traditional natural theology that the existence of God can be demonstrated without having to presuppose specific Christian ideas (Loke 2019). The Cosmological Argument and Moral Argument indicate that God has revealed himself through his creation of the universe and through the moral law which is recognized by human conscience. Nevertheless, one might wonder whether he has also revealed himself in history to show us how evil can be defeated. I have argued elsewhere (Loke 2017b; 2020a) that there are evidences for thinking that he has indeed done so through the person of Jesus Christ. The teachings of Christian theology—in particular its doctrine of sin—offer a deeper explanation concerning the presence of evil and indicate its ultimate solution. Nevertheless, they also generate further questions which need to be addressed, and they will be addressed in the rest of this book.

Notes 1 Calder (2018) notes that there is a narrower concept of evil which ‘picks out only the most morally despicable sorts of actions, characters, events, etc..’ 2 Stoics, however, famously held that the only evil is moral evil. 3 Misotheists are those who hate the idea of God but do not necessarily deny his existence. Some of them may hold to the evil god hypothesis. 4 ‘故天将降大任于斯人也, 必先苦其心志, 劳其筋骨, 饿其体肤, 空乏其身, 行指 乱其所为, 所以动心忍性, 曾益其所不能。 ’ 《生于忧患, 死于安乐》 5 One can agree with Vitale’s point here without embracing the Non-Identity Theodicy he postulates. The theodicy affirms that human persons could not have existed without evil and suffering; this involves controversial metaphysical and theological assumptions the exploration of which is beyond the scope of this book. 6 Tooley (2019, p. 50) illustrates the Equiprobability Principle as follows: consider the family of fully determinate colour properties. Equiprobability Principle 1 then says that if F and G are any two completely determinate colours, the probability, given no further information, that some particular object x has property F is equal to the probability that x has property G. However, where unknown goods are concerned we are given further information in that the Moral Argument for the existence of God shows that a good God who desires for the good of creatures exists. 7 For alternative responses to the Divine Deception objection and Global Scepticism objection, see Hendricks (2020b).

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Christian theism and the origin of evil and sin

3.1 The nature of sin 3.1.1 The Scriptural data In contemporary English, ‘sin’ is very much a religious word (McFarland 2016, p. 303). In the Christian Scripture it is described in a variety of ways (Sklar 2016; Erickson 1998, pp. 583–95), one of which is missing the mark (Hebrew Ḥaṭṭāʼt; Greek hamartia). ‘All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God’ (Romans 3:23). Since the ‘mark’ is indicated by the laws or commandments of God, sin is also characterized as ‘lawlessness’ (1 John 3:4). People have missed the mark by falling short of the greatest commandments: ‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind’ and ‘Love your neighbour as yourself’ (Matthew 22:37–39). Since God is the source of the commandments, a primary sin is the corruption of the proper worship of God. Commenting on Romans 3:23, Gombis (2016, p. 98) writes that ‘it was the glory of humanity to be the glory of God, to acknowledge and to make manifest that the one who created and upheld all of creation, including humanity, of course, was indeed the one true God.’ However, humans exchange ‘the truth of God for a lie,’ and ‘worshipped and served the creature rather than the Creator’ (Romans 1:25). Sin is also described as breaking of covenant (Hebrew bāgad), trespassing God’s commands (Hebrew ‘abar; Greek parabasis), wickedness (Hebrew rešaʻ), straying from the right path (Hebrew ‘awal), falling (Greek parapipto-, parato-ma), guilt (Hebrew āwo-n), unrighteousness (Greek adikos: this term has a legal background), and transgression of the law (pešaʻ). Sin not only refers to actions but also attitudes, such as rebelliousness (Hebrew pešaʻ, mārad), stubbornness (Hebrew sarar), and disobedience (Greek apeitheia, aphiste-mi, apostasia). The Scriptures emphasize that wrongdoings start in the mind: ‘Anyone who hates a brother or sister is a murderer’ (1 John 3:15). ‘You have heard that it was said, “You shall not commit adultery.” But I say to you that everyone who looks at a woman with lustful intent has already committed adultery with her in his heart’ (Matthew 5:27–28).

DOI: 10.4324/9781003265689-3

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Sin is also described using various metaphors. Some of these metaphors, such as Royal-Legal Metaphors, Familial Metaphors, and Nuptial Metaphors (McCall 2019), are related to metaphors which describe a person’s relationship with God: If he is our king, then sin is an act of rebellion against him (Num. 14.9; Deut. 1.26); if he is our faithful spouse, then sin is an act of spiritual prostitution (Exod. 34.17; Lev. 17.7; 20.5; Deut. 31.16). These metaphors characterize sin as a breaking of a relationship. (Sklar 2016, p. 6) Other metaphors describe the effects of sin on people, such as a defilement (Ezekiel 14:11) or a burden (Psalm 38:4). ‘The Psalter views sin as a heavy load or a physical blemish that encumbers and soils the individual (Ps. 32.1; 38.2, 4; 51.1–2, 7, 9; 103.12)’ (Ansberry 2016, p. 49). ‘In all of these, sin is viewed as utterly destructive; its purpose is never to bless but always to curse’ (Sklar 2016, p. 6). In addition to individual sins, various Scriptural passages speak of what we might call social, structural, or systemic sins. The latter is indicated by oppressive power structures and the successes of the wicked within the community in crushing the people, harming the widow, the stranger, and the orphan (Psalm 94:3–6; 73:3–12; 146:7–9) (Ansberry 2016, p. 51). Social injustices involving bloody violence (murder) and oppression (robbery, abuse of the poor) (Ezekiel 7:11–13, 23; 8:17; 11:6–7; 12:19; 13:18–23; 22:23–31; 33:14–16) as well as bribery (Micah 3:9–11; 7:2–3) and other deceitful practices related to business dealings (Micah 6:10–12) are condemned throughout Scripture (Boda 2016, pp. 37–9). Various lists of sins are found in Scripture. An example from the Old Testament is found in Proverbs 6:16–19: There are six things which the LORD hates, Yes, seven which are an abomination to Him: Haughty eyes, a lying tongue, And hands that shed innocent blood, A heart that devises wicked plans, Feet that run rapidly to evil, A false witness who utters lies, And one who spreads strife among brothers. In the New Testament, an example is found in Romans 1:28–32: And just as they did not see fit to acknowledge God any longer, God gave them over to a depraved mind, to do those things which are not proper, being filled with all unrighteousness, wickedness, greed, evil; full of envy, murder, strife, deceit, malice; they are gossips, slanderers, haters of God, insolent, arrogant, boastful, inventors of evil, disobedient to parents, without understanding, untrustworthy, unloving, unmerciful; and although they know the ordinance of God, that those who practise such things are worthy

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of death, they not only do the same, but also give hearty approval to those who practise them. In summary, people often fail to do what they should do (Sins of Omission), and do what they shouldn’t do (Sins of Commission). 3.1.2 Sin and responsibility In cases where a person is tempted by others, the choice to sin is still the person’s choice, hence he/she has to bear responsibility. Some might ask whether Paul’s statement in Romans 7:17 implies an avoidance of personal responsibility: ‘But in fact it is no longer I that do it, but sin that dwells within me.’ Actually, Paul is not saying that it is not his choice and responsibility, rather his point is that he did not do the good that he intended to do, which indicates that there is another force within him which led him to do wrong (Moo 1996, pp. 457–8; I explain in Chapter 6 that this state of bondage may have resulted from earlier libertarian free choices for which the person is responsible. Thus, contra Vicens [2018, p. 103], this passage does not justify compatibilism). 3.1.3 Ignorance, intentionality, and different severity of sin One might ask whether a wrong action done in ignorance is a sin. According to the Old Testament, unintentional wrongdoing is still regarded as a sin the consequence of which is punishment—even though the punishment is lighter than that for intentional sin (Numbers 15:27–31)1 —and which requires atonement and forgiveness. Sklar (2016, p. 15) observes that ‘this should be no surprise. To this day we realize that people may unintentionally break a law and yet still be held responsible, as happens when people receive a ticket even if their speeding was unintentional.’ From a theological perspective, even though the wrongdoing is not intentional, nevertheless the act itself is contrary to what ought to be the case and is displeasing to God. 1 Timothy 1:13 indicates that those who sin unintentionally are more likely to experience God’s grace compared to those who sin intentionally, because the former do not purposely resist God. However, what they have done is still a sin, otherwise they would not need to be forgiven as Luke 23:34 indicates. These people are not totally ignorant of God and morality (cf. ‘without excuse,’ Romans 1:20). Acts 17:30 (‘While God has overlooked the times of human ignorance, now he commands all people everywhere to repent’) does not imply the ignorance of a God or Creator; on the contrary, the previous verse (v. 28) indicates that the people referred to were aware that humans were created by God (‘we too are his offspring’). Rather the ignorance is referring to thinking that God ‘is like gold, or silver, or stone, an image formed by the art and imagination of mortals’ (v. 29). Acts 17:30 is also not saying that God does not regard ignorance as sin, rather it means God ‘allowed all the nations to follow their own ways’ (Acts 14:16) for a duration of time (Witherington III 1998, p. 530; see the discussion on divine hiddenness in Chapter 7). Those who purposely choose to ignore certain truths so as to avoid responsibility would also be

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sinning (cf. Ephesians 4:18: ‘They are darkened in their understanding, alienated from the life of God because of their ignorance and hardness of heart’). Compare with two relevant passages in the Gospel of John: ‘If you were blind, you would not have sin’ (John 9:41) and ‘If I had not done among them the works that no one else did, they would not have sin’ (John 15:24a). Both refer specifically to Jesus’ work: if the Pharisees (John 9:40) were totally ignorant of it or if Jesus had not done those miracles, they would not have known that Jesus was sent from God, hence in that situation they would not be considered guilty of the sin of not believing in Jesus. However, they were not totally ignorant, they saw Jesus’ miracles but refused to believe him. In the Old Testament law, unintentional sin contrasts with sins that are committed ‘with a high hand (bĕyād rāmâ)’ (Numbers 15.30), i.e. intentional sins that are defiant acts of apostasy, and intentional but not (necessarily) high-handed sin. Unlike the other two categories, high-handed sins are regarded as extremely severe for which there exists no automatic provision of sacrificial atonement (Sklar 2016, pp. 15–17). Sklar observes, ‘it is true that atonement was still possible in these instances, but it was not automatic and could come at an incredibly high cost indeed’ (p. 17). He elaborates: A survey of these narratives shows that atonement was possible by means of the work of a mediator who in some way effects atonement on the repentant sinners’ behalf, as happens when Moses prays on behalf of the people (Exod. 32.30–35 and 33.12–17; Num. 11.2; 14.13–20; 16.22), or Aaron offers incense for them (Num. 16.46–47 [17.11–12]; cf. also Num. 25.8). Significantly, however, it is possible for the Lord to discipline the people even after atonement has been made, and this discipline can be severe. For example, even though the Israelites who rebelled in Numbers 14 are forgiven, not one of them ever sets foot in the Promised Land (cf. Num. 14.20 with Num. 14.22–23). Such ongoing discipline does not appear to happen in the realm of sacrificial atonement, and this contrast appears to emphasize the severity of sinning with a high hand against the Lord. (p. 17) Despite the atoning work of the mediators, the Scriptures consistently show that without a penitential response, divine judgement is still inevitable (Deuteronomy 4:23–28; 29:24–26; Joshua 24:20; 1 Kings 9:9; 2 Kings 17, 25) (Boda 2016, p. 33). Various passages in the New Testament also indicate that there are different degrees of severity of sins. The most severe sin is stated in Matthew 12:31–32: Therefore I tell you, people will be forgiven for every sin and blasphemy, but blasphemy against the Spirit will not be forgiven. Whoever speaks a word against the Son of Man will be forgiven, but whoever speaks against the Holy Spirit will not be forgiven, either in this age or in the age to come.

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The context of this passage portrays the Pharisees persisting in their rejection of the evidences of God vindicating Jesus’ ministry of casting out the demons and attributing these miracles to the work of Beelzebub, the ruler of the demons (v. 24). Blaspheming the Holy Spirit refers to people persisting in their rejection of the works of God and refusing to admit their sins, repent, and receive forgiveness, therefore this sin is described as the sin that will not be forgiven, because its nature renders it unforgivable. This notion seems to be a variant of ‘sin with a high hand’ in the Old Testament (Numbers 15.30–31), it is a ‘defiant, relentless repudiation of the salvation offered by God’s Spirit’ (Black 2016, p. 76). Its consequence is also similar to that of mortal sin (i.e. a sin that leads to death) described in 1 John 5:16: If you see your brother or sister committing what is not a mortal sin, you will ask, and God will give life to such a one—to those whose sin is not mortal. There is sin that is mortal; I do not say that you should pray about that. This sin of unremitting consequence is sin at its most basic and devastating level which ‘loves darkness rather than light’ (John 3:19) and rejects the world’s only hope of salvation (Burge 2016, pp. 93–5). It should be noted that Paul was said to have blasphemed against God but he received mercy (1 Timothy 1:13) (Keener 1999, pp. 365–6). The bottom line is that as long as a person is willing to confess his/her sins and repent, all of his/her sins can be forgiven (1 John 1:9). An underlying attitude which leads to a refusal to confess and repent is pride. Aquinas regarded pride as the most grievous of sins because it is of its very nature an aversion from God and his commandments, something which is consequently true of all sins (Summa Theologica IIa IIae, q. 162, a. 6; cf. ‘God opposes the proud but gives grace to the humble,’ James 4:6). Black (2016, p. 69) observes that: In the Synoptics sin’s deepest infestation is among the self-righteous: they do not avail themselves of God’s mercy because they cannot recognize in themselves the failure (hamartia) and indebtedness (opheilē), the malice (ponēria) and transgression (paraptōma), which they readily ascribe to others. Traditional Roman Catholic theology distinguishes between different severities of sins with its categories of mortal sins and venial sins. The notion of venial sins (i.e. sin that does not result in damnation in hell) can be found as early as the fifth century in Augustine (On the Spirit and the Letter, 48). Aquinas understood it as choosing inadequate means to attain our final (good) end (telos), in contrast with mortal sins (sin that results in damnation in hell if unrepented) which are a rejection of our final end (Summa Theologica I–II q. 72 a. 5) (Bauerschmidt 2016, p. 212). The Catechism of the Catholic Church (#1862) defines venial sin as a sin which one commits when ‘he does not observe the standard prescribed by the moral law, or when he disobeys the moral law in a grave matter, but without full knowledge or without complete consent,’ and which requires penance, otherwise it would result in punishment in purgatory (but not in hell).

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The characterization of the distinction between mortal sins and venial sins by the Roman Catholic church is rejected by the French Reformer John Calvin. Calvin argues that even our sinful desires are sinful, and are enough to condemn us before God even if we do not consent to them (Zachman 2016, p. 249). Whereas civil laws recognize sinful acts but not sinful desires as vices that are worthy of punishment, the perfect righteousness of God ‘demands from us such integrity that no corrupt lust should move us to evil, however much we may withhold our consent’ (Commentary on Romans 7.7). The laws of God reveal the sin of concupiscence, and therefore reveal the depth of our corruption due to sin (Zachman 2016, p. 249). Calvin writes that: the right application of this doctrine is, for every man to examine in good earnest his own life by the perfection which is enjoined upon us in the law. In this way he will be forced to confess that all men without exception have deserved everlasting damnation; and each will acknowledge in respect to himself that he is a thousand times undone. (Calvin, Commentary on the Psalms 130.3–4) Zachman (2016, p. 249) adds that ‘only in this way do we acquire genuine humility, so that we turn to God’s mercy out of a deep and sincere awareness of the depth of our sinfulness, which evades even the most penetrating self-examination.’ Calvin’s emphasis on humility and self-examination is well-taken. However, there is a need to draw a distinction between desire and lust (in particular, their relations to consent and sin). To begin, the Scripture indicates that there is a distinction between temptation and sin. For example, Hebrews 4:15 affirms that Jesus was tempted yet without sin. James 1:12–15 states: Blessed is anyone who endures temptation … one is tempted by one’s own desire, being lured and enticed by it; then, when that desire has conceived, it gives birth to sin, and that sin, when it is fully grown, gives birth to death. These verses indicate that being tempted is not a sin, that temptation is due to desire, and that desire itself is not sinful; it only becomes sinful when it has ‘conceived.’ Concerning lust (e.g. Matthew 5:28: ‘looks at a woman with lust’), Jesus is referring not to passing desire but to a deliberate harbouring of desire for an illicit relationship (Keener 1999, citing R.T. France). This deliberate act involves not just desire (understood as a ‘pull’ on the will for something) but a mental act of willing consent, i.e. a choice to submit one’s thinking to meditate and dwell on the desire (even if it is not physically acted out), rather than resisting the desire. Such a lusting is an indication that the desire has ‘conceived’ and given birth to sin (James 1:15). Keener (1999) also notes that Matthew 6:13, ‘And do not lead us into temptation’ (NASB), does not mean praying that we will not face temptation (Jesus himself was tempted), but that we will not succumb in temptation but will be ‘delivered from evil’ (cf. Matthew 26:41: ‘Keep watching and praying, so that you do not come into temptation; the spirit is willing, but the

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flesh is weak’—Jesus knew that the disciples will be tempted; rather he is telling them how not to succumb to temptation). 3.1.4 Definition of sin and whether sin is a moral and/or theological notion Based on the survey in Section 3.1.3 of the Scriptural data, it can be seen some definitions of sin do not adequately fit the data. For example, ‘sin is not, and cannot be reduced to, the mere transgression of a set of laws or an abstract moral code’ (McCall 2019, p. 69), because it fails to capture the personal nature of the One whom we offended according to the Scripture. The same problem besets Tillich’s understanding of sin as ‘unbelief’ which ‘turns away from the infinite ground of being’ (Tillich 1968, vol. 2, pp. 54–5). Although Barth’s characterization of sin as the human ‘arrogant attempt to be [one’s] own master, provider and comforter’ does describe many instances of sin (Barth 1936–1977, III/3, p. 305), it does not account for unintentional sin. Although selfishness is often a cause of sin, sin is not always due to selfishness; selflessly loving others more than loving God is also sin (Erickson 1998, p. 598). Sin is better defined as an offence against a personal holy God, whether intentional or unintentional. Some theologians have claimed that sin is fundamentally not a moral but a theological notion. They argue that the relationship between God and creatures is not a moral one and that sin is ‘some sort of impropriety in the relationship between created persons and God’ (Adams 1991, p. 2). An assessment of this view requires an understanding of morality and sin. Morality concerns values (goodness, badness) and the rightness/wrongness of intentions and behaviour. It may be used in a descriptive sense to characterize what a person/group of people regard as good/right, or a normative/objective sense to characterize what people ought to regard as good/right and what people ought to do. Given the Moral Argument for the existence of God which shows that objective morality exists and is grounded in God, people and God do have a moral relationship. Moreover, as noted earlier, sin is characterized in Scripture as missing the mark, i.e. falling short of what God requires, and thus sin is properly regarded as a moral category. On the other hand, Augustine has argued that: all evil is a result of sin. The first evils, which contributed to all the others, are the devil’s revolt against God and the ensuing fall of Adam and Eve. Because sin is the initial form of evil, sin has a kind of priority among evils. Yet sin also falls under evil as a species of that genus. (Couenhoven 2016, p. 182) It might be objected that some theologians have divided God’s requirements/laws in the Old Testament into moral, civil, and ceremonial, which seems to imply that not everything that God requires is moral. However, the division of laws into moral, civil, and ceremonial is unknown in the Scripture and rabbinical literature; such a division is arbitrary and artificial (Dorsey 1991, p. 329). It is true that many of these commandments are only applicable to Jews under the Old

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Covenant. Nevertheless, insofar as God (the ultimate ground of morality) is the One who requires the Israelites to behave in those manners, for the Israelites a violation of those requirements would constitute a violation of moral requirement and a sin. The point I am making here is consistent with Adams’ observation that: the Biblical catalog of ‘sin’ includes ‘not only (i) conscious voluntary actions, but also (ii) emotions (e.g., anger) and cognitive states (e.g., belief) not within our (direct) voluntary control, (iii) dispositions, habits, inclinations that resist the normative ordering of the self, and (iv) states or conditions of uncleanness (e.g., the abominations of Leviticus).’ (Adams 2009, p. 255) Those who argue that ‘moral-ought’ implies ‘can’ would object that behaviours and states which are not within our (direct) voluntary control should not be regarded as moral and we should not be responsible for them. However, many of those states and behaviours (including those states which ‘puts the will … in bondage’ [McFarland 2007, p. 152]) could have resulted from our characters which are the result of previous libertarian free choices for which we do have control, and thus we are still responsible for them at a deeper level (see the discussion on Original Sin and Pelagianism in Chapter 6). Alternatively, even if some of those states and behaviours are not related to our free choices in any way, nevertheless those states and behaviours themselves are still contrary to what ought to be the case, i.e. they are displeasing to God, and thus should still be regarded as moral, even if we are not responsible for them. Some theologians have argued that we cannot really know what is sin apart from God’s revelation in Christ. For example, Barth writes: Where there is a true knowledge of sin, it can be only as an element in the knowledge of God, of revelation, and therefore of faith, for which he cannot in any way prepare himself. Man is corrupt even in his self-understanding, even in the knowledge of his corruption. He cannot see, therefore, beyond the inner conflict and its purely relative compass. He can never really see his sin, and himself as the man of sin. (Barth 1936–1977, IV/2, p. 379) Barth insightfully notes that those actions which do not correspond to the action of Jesus Christ but contradict it are sinful (Barth 1936–1977, IV/1, p. 415). For example, whereas Christ manifested obedience and humility, humans often oppose God and act in pride (Nimmo 2016, p. 288). Nevertheless, Barth goes too far by assuming that there can be no viable objective, authoritative, and correct standard for us to discern sin independent of God and his revelation in Christ (Barth 1936–1977, IV/1, p. 365). This assumption is not consistent with passages in Scripture which affirm that people can know something about God’s goodness apart from his revelation in Christ, because of his revelation in creation (‘He [God] has not left Himself without a witness in doing good—giving you rains

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from heaven and fruitful seasons, and filling you with food and your hearts with joy,’ Acts 14:17) and the moral law written in the hearts of people (Romans 2:14–15). These passages imply that people can have some knowledge of God, objective morality, and sin based on their experiences of the world and introspection. Many items in the lists of sins found in Scripture (e.g. Proverbs 6:16–19; Romans 1:28–32) such as lying and shedding of innocent blood are recognized as moral evils in many cultures. Indeed, most people throughout history do recognize that there is something wrong with this world, and many cultures and religions throughout history do relate this wrongness with offences against the Divine for which people are guilty and worthy of punishment. Nevertheless, the Scripture also mentions that people can suppress and distort their knowledge of God and morality (Romans 1) because of their sin, which causes deceit and spiritual blindness (Jeremiah 17:9; cf. John 12:40; Hebrews 3:13; 1 John 2:11). This is evidenced by the observation that even the most ‘civilized’ peoples have tolerated and applauded the exploitation of various subjugated peoples (McCall 2019, pp. 24–5; citing Wesley). Therefore, most Christian theologians throughout history would argue that, although humans are able to have some knowledge of sin because of God’s General Revelation, an accurate knowledge of sin does require God’s Special Revelation through Christ and Scripture.

3.2 Is God responsible for evil? Examining a number of relevant Scriptural passages Traditional Christian theology affirms that God is not responsible for moral evil. The Scripture states that ‘The LORD is righteous in all His ways’ (Psalm 145:17): Let no one say when he is tempted, ‘I am being tempted by God’; for God cannot be tempted by evil, and He Himself does not tempt anyone. But each one is tempted when he is carried away and enticed by his own lust. … Every good thing given and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shifting shadow. (James 1:13–14, 17) These passages in Scripture imply that God is not to be blamed for moral evil because he is not the source of it, rather he is the source of all good things. In a similar vein, Ecclesiastes 7:29 states that ‘God made human beings straightforward, but they have devised many schemes,’ which implies that humans (and not God) are the cause of their moral evils. The view of John of Damascus is representative of most theologians in the Christian tradition on this point: We ought to understand that while God knows all things beforehand, yet he does not predetermine all things. For he knows beforehand those things that are in our power, but he does not predetermine them. For it is not his will that there should be wickedness nor does he choose to compel virtue. (De Fide II: XXX)

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Here, John is referring to God’s desirative will that humans freely choose to do what is right. Another example of God’s desirative will is conveyed in Lamentations 3:33: ‘For He does not afflict willingly [literally, “from His heart”]’; this indicates that it is not God’s desirative will to cause suffering. Nevertheless, there is an order of priority of God’s desires, just as there is an order of priority in God’s commandments (with the commandment to love being the greatest). God’s desirative will concerning love with its assumption of human freedom implies his permissive will to allow humans the freedom to choose evil, which would bring about suffering as a consequence. There have been a minority of theologians who have failed to recognize a distinction between God’s desirative will (which John refers to) and God’s permissive will and the distinction between divine doing and allowing (see Section 3.3), and they have claimed that God is in some ways responsible for moral evil (Zwingli 1983, p. 176; Schleiermacher 1994, p. 324). Isaiah 45:7, ‘I form the light, and create darkness: I make peace, and create evil’ (KJV; italics mine), has been cited in support of this view (McFarland 2014, p. 120). However, the word translated as ‘evil’ is the Hebrew ra, which covers the whole range of badness, all the way from distressing trials to calamities to disasters, to moral evil. In this context, where there is a preceding pair of antithetical ideas ‘light’ and ‘darkness,’ it is exegetically certain that ra is intended as the opposite, not of goodness or virtue, but of shalom (the word translated as good) which means ‘peace’ or ‘welfare.’ Thus ra is more accurately translated as ‘calamity’ or ‘disaster’ as the NASB indicated, and not moral evil as such (Archer 1982, pp. 392–3). The context of this passage, as well as the context of a similar passage in Amos 3:6, show that these passages refer to calamities understood as judgement for sins. These passages therefore do not imply that all calamities are caused by God (see further, Chapter 8). There are other passages which reflect erroneous human perceptions rather than what is the case. For example, in Jeremiah 20:7, ‘O LORD, You have deceived me and I was deceived,’ the verb patah (‘deceived’) is in intensive form which means ‘to seduce,’ such as the case in which a virgin is seduced (Exodus 22:16; 1 Kings 22:20–22). As a result of his intense sufferings as a persecuted prophet, Jeremiah complains that the Lord over-persuaded him to be a prophet. It should be noted, however, that the Lord has already told him the difficulties he would face (Gaebelein 1986, vol. 6, p. 502). It might be objected that passages which seem to indicate that God sent evil spirits (Judges 9:23; 1 Samuel 16:14–16; 1 Kings 22:21–22) imply that God is a cause of moral evil. However, such expressions should be understood in light of the Biblical author’s emphasis on Divine Sovereignty. For example, some passages in the Book of Job seem to indicate that Job’s suffering is from God (e.g. Job 1:11: ‘But put forth Your hand now and touch all that he has; he will surely curse You to Your face’). The phrase ‘put forth your hand’ might give the impression that God directly caused Job’s suffering. However, the context tells us it was ‘the accuser’ who was the direct cause of Job’s suffering (1:12). In 2 Samuel 24:1 it was mentioned that God incited David to commit the sin of taking the census, but 1 Chronicles 21:1 says that it was Satan who incited David to take

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the census. In light of these observations, the aforementioned passages which seem to indicate that God sent evil spirits should be understood as saying that God in his Sovereignty allowed evil spirits to act (just as throughout history God has allowed evil people such as Hitler to act), not that God is the cause of moral evil (see further the discussion on the doing-allowing distinction in Section 3.3). Many other passages in Scripture can likewise be understood in terms of the Hebrew writers’ emphasis on Divine Sovereignty which omits the mentioning of various causes (whether natural or supernatural) without denying these causes. For example, Exodus 4:11, ‘The LORD said to him, “Who has made man’s mouth? Or who makes him mute or deaf, or seeing or blind? Is it not I, the LORD?”’ does not deny that someone could be born mute, deaf, etc. as a result of diseases (including those caused by human free agents). Passages which refer to judicial hardening, which is a form of punishment meted out to certain unrepentant sinners, can be understood similarly (Haley 1992, p. 91). For example, although Isaiah 63:17 says, ‘Why, O LORD, do You cause us to stray from Your ways and harden our heart from fearing You?’ the context indicates that it was the Israelites who rebelled and grieved his Holy Spirit (v. 10). ‘Cause us to stray’ should therefore be understood as God permitting other agents (in this case the sinful Israelites) to act. Another relevant passage is John 12:39–40: For this reason they could not believe, for Isaiah said again, ‘HE HAS BLINDED THEIR EYES AND HE HARDENED THEIR HEART, SO THAT THEY WOULD NOT SEE WITH THEIR EYES AND PERCEIVE WITH THEIR HEART, AND BE CONVERTED AND

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Commenting on this passage, Carson (1991, p. 448) notes that: (1) God’s sovereignty in these matters is never pitted against human responsibility; (2) God’s judicial hardening is not presented as the capricious manipulation of an arbitrary potentate cursing morally neutral or even morally pure beings, but as a holy condemnation of a guilty people who are condemned to do and be what they themselves have chosen. Thus the phrase ‘they could not believe’ does not deny their free will, rather it can be understood as an indication that it is psychologically impossible for them to believe because their character had been formed as a result of their previous free choices to reject the truth, and God allowed them the freedom to exercise their choices (cf. John 9:39: ‘And Jesus said, “For judgement I came into this world, so that those who do not see may see, and that those who see may become blind.”’ ‘Those who see’ refers to the Pharisees, who ‘see’ because they had the knowledge of the Law, and yet lost their spiritual sight because they reject ‘the Light of this world’). Likewise, although there are a number of passages in Exodus which mention that God hardens Pharaoh’s heart (7:3; 9:12; 10:1, 20, 27; 11:10; 14:4, 8), there are other passages (Exodus 8:15, 32; 9:34) which mention Pharaoh hardening his own heart, that he refused to humble himself (10:3) and

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was stubborn (13:15). 1 Samuel 6:6 rebukes the Philistines for hardening their heart like Pharaoh, and indicates the responsibility of humans in the hardening of hearts. Divine hardening can be understood as God allowing those who harden their own hearts to remain hardened. McFarland (2014, p. 120) notes that although the Book of Job attributes ‘natural evils (specifically, firestorm, hurricane, and disease) to an angelic being, it also teaches that such activity is only possible as approved by God (see 1:12, 16, 18–19; 2:6–7).’ However, McFarland complains that in such a narrative ‘it is precisely God who is portrayed as willing that evil befall the creature,’ and that given Job’s blamelessness (1:8) the calamities afflicting Job are evil and meaningless. McFarland claims that, ‘Shall we receive the good at the hands of God, and not receive the bad?’ (2:10) makes God the author of at least some evil (p. 122). He concludes that: Proposed ‘solutions’ to the ‘problem’ of evil invariably run afoul of the basic logic of creation from nothing by assigning evil a place in creation as an experience that is either inevitable or justifiable. But if evil is that which God does not will, and nothing is created except that which is willed by God, then evil can have no place in creation, and any attempt to argue otherwise is false either to the essential character of evil or to the sovereignty of God. In this respect, Christians do well to avoid every attempt to explain evil. (McFarland 2014, p. 131) One problem with McFarland’s reasoning is that he fails to distinguish between the desirative will of God and the permissive will of God (the latter implies that God is not the first cause of evil), between natural evil and moral evil, and between the intention of the devil (which is evil) and the intention of God which is good. In this case God’s intention was the manifestation of Job’s blamelessness (1:22) and his deeper experience of God (Job 42:5: ‘I have heard of You by the hearing of the ear; But now my eye sees You’). McFarland also fails to note that the Book of Job itself provides an explanation of the natural evil that Job experienced in terms of God allowing Satan to test him (Job 1:6–12). However, McFarland is right to say that: If God achieves God’s purposes by drawing good out of evil, it does not follow that evil is ‘really’ good (as though our sins were other than sinful), but only that it cannot finally defeat God’s will for creatures’ flourishing. (McFarland 2014, p. 134)

3.3 Divine providence and the doing-allowing distinction In his article ‘Doing, allowing, and the problem of evil,’ Daniel Lim (2017) observes that ‘the so-called Problem of Evil (PoE) is seen by many to be the most formidable problem for theistic belief’ (p. 2). He notes that many people hold the following assumption:

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ASSUMPTION: The only way to defend theistic belief given the PoE is to assume God does not actively bring about everything that happens. God merely allows some things, in particular evil, to happen. (Lim 2017, p. 4) Lim explains that this assumption is at odds with a view which he labels as ‘PROVIDENCE’: PROVIDENCE: God actively brings about everything that happens in the world. (Lim 2017, p. 2) He argues that ASSUMPTION depends on two claims: (i) the doing-allowing distinction exists and (ii) the doing-allowing distinction is morally significant.2 In the rest of his paper he attempts to undermine both of these claims. He concludes that broadly Kantian considerations (persons must always be treated as ends-inthemselves), when applied to God, effectively dissolve the moral significance of the doing-allowing distinction. I appreciate the originality and intention of Lim’s approach. However, I don’t think that the moral significance of the doing-allowing distinction can be dissolved when addressing the problem of evil. The first few paragraphs of the article are problematic. The first sentence states that ‘There is a venerable thesis found in many monotheistic traditions that claims everything that happens in the world is a result of divine providence’ (Lim 2017, p. 1). However, this sentence is ambiguous. ‘Divine providence’ can be understood as: (1)

‘God actively bringing about everything that happens in the world,’ as Lim goes on to state.

‘Divine providence’ can also be understood as: (2)

God actively bringing about certain events in the world, whereas for other events God places agents who are free in a libertarian sense in circumstances in which he knew they would freely and actively choose certain courses of actions, and God allows them to do that, thus bringing about these events in accordance with his plan. Libertarian freedom holds that a person is in some sense the ‘first cause’ of his/her free decisions and that he/she could have chosen otherwise. This is different from a compatibilist’s understanding of free will, which holds that a person’s decision is ultimately determined by prior circumstances, given which he/she could not have chosen otherwise. (Clarke and Capes 2015)

Let’s call (2) the ‘Middle Knowledge’ account of divine providence. The doctrine of Middle Knowledge was classically proposed by Luis de Molina (1535–1600), a

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Spanish Jesuit theologian and the author of the Concordia liberi arbitrii cum gratiae donis (1588). According to this doctrine, God knows what any particular person would freely do in any circumstance. As Molina explains, Middle Knowledge is that: by which, in virtue of the most profound and inscrutable comprehension of each faculty of free choice, He saw in His own essence what each such faculty would do with its innate freedom were it to be placed in this or in that or, indeed, in infinitely many orders of things—even though it would really be able, if it so willed, to do the opposite. (Molina and Freddoso 1988, Qu.14, Art.13, Disp.52, No.9) This knowledge is ‘middle’ in the sense that it is conceptually between God’s natural knowledge (i.e. knowledge of all possibilities, including what any free creature could do in any set of circumstances) and God’s free knowledge (God’s knowledge of what are in fact true states of affairs in the actual world). According to Molina, God freely decreed to actualize a world known by him to be realizable on the basis of his Middle Knowledge (Moreland and Craig 2003, Chapter 28). With regard to a person’s response to God, the ‘Middle Knowledge’ account would hold that God’s enabling grace is a necessary, but not a sufficient condition. As Molina puts it: The assistance through which we are helped by God toward justification is not efficacious intrinsically and by its nature; rather, its being efficacious depends on the free consent of the faculty of choice, a consent that the will is able not to give despite that assistance—indeed, when it consents, it is able to dissent. (Molina and Freddoso 1988, Qu.14, Art.13, Disp.53, Part 2, No.30) Hence, in Molina’s account, a limited libertarian human freedom is included within God’s providential will. (The freedom is limited, because there are many other events, such as the time and place at which an individual is born, which are beyond the ability of an individual to freely decide.) On this ‘Middle Knowledge’ understanding, it is not the case that ‘God actively brings about everything that happens in the world.’ Rather, some events are not actively brought about by God, but by free agents, and God allows them to make the choices and carry out their free actions. By virtue of placing free agents in circumstances in accordance with his Middle Knowledge of how they would freely act, God is able to guarantee that events come to pass in accordance with his providential will (such as ensuring that those people who need to hear the Gospel before believing in God will be born at a time and place in history at which they do hear it; see Craig 1990). By saying this, I do not imply that all the events actualized are exactly what God desires (this is what Lim’s theological deterministic account of PROVIDENCE would imply). On the Middle Knowledge account, there may well be many aspects of this world (the world God has chosen to actualize)—such as morally evil free actions—that are undesirable by-products of the world which God regarded as the

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best overall creative option, a world which contains creatures who are free in a libertarian sense. The counterfactuals of freedom of which the God of Middle Knowledge was aware prior to creation and utilized in creating the actual world of God’s choice are not themselves in any way subject to divine control. God simply knew what humans would do (and not do) if granted freedom in a given context. What this means is that God’s ability to create a world that contains what he would have it contain is restricted by the true counterfactuals that are available. Nevertheless, proponents of the Middle Knowledge account would say that the granting of freedom to humans is in accordance with God’s providential will (see further, Loke 2013). Thus in this sense God is still in sovereign control of what happens in the actual world, for if God had not created humans those counterfactuals would not have been actualized as well. The ‘Middle Knowledge’ account of divine providence, therefore, is different from (1). Unlike (1), the ‘Middle Knowledge’ account of divine providence is compatible with ASSUMPTION. As I shall explain further in Section 3.4, (1) has the unacceptable consequence of implying that God actively brings about acts of evil that are present in this world. It is doubtful that this is ‘a venerable thesis found in many monotheistic traditions.’ However, (1) is the understanding Lim adopts; he labels the view that ‘God actively brings about everything that happens in the world’ as PROVIDENCE. This glosses over the fact that many theologians (e.g. those who affirm the Middle Knowledge view) who do not think that ‘God actively brings about everything’ would also use the word ‘providence’ to describe God’s guidance of the events of this world. Lim claims that the view which he labels as PROVIDENCE ‘seems to enjoy strong support from the sacred texts embedded in the various monotheistic traditions’ (Lim 2017, p. 2). However, the Biblical texts which seem to support this view can have plausible alternative interpretations; on the other hand, there are Biblical texts which are arguably inconsistent with this view (Loke 2013). Lim questions whether there is a plausible analysis of the doing-allowing distinction and whether this analysis can be maintained when applied to God, and he rejects various analyses. One of the analyses of the doing-allowing distinction which Lim considers is via causation. He describes this view as follows: ‘If an agent causes a given result then the agent’s behavior counts as an instance of doing. If an agent does not cause a given result (and fails to prevent it from occurring) then the agent’s behavior counts as an instance of allowing’ (Lim 2017, p. 9). He objects that ‘the most pressing issue facing this approach is the difficulty of pinning down a serviceable analysis of causation,’ and he notes that ‘there is no consensus in this area of philosophy’ (p. 9). It is true that at present there is little agreement among philosophers concerning whether causation should be analysed in terms of instantiation of regularities or laws or counterfactual dependence, or manipulability, probabilities, or networks or INUS (insufficient but necessary parts of unnecessary but sufficient conditions) or transfers of conserved quantities or dispositions or whether causation should be treated as a theoretical primitive.3 However, this lack of consensus does not imply that causation does not exist, nor does it imply that no distinction between doing

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and allowing can be drawn. One way of drawing the distinction would be to utilize the theory of agent causation, according to which a free agent is the originator of his/her free actions. (Although the theory of agent causation is controversial, it has been defended in recent literature; see the survey in Clarke and Capes [2015]. In the dialectic concerning the argument against the existence of God from evil, the burden of proof would be on the atheist to rule out these defences if he/she were to object to the theist’s use of this theory in response to the argument from evil.) In accordance with agent causation, if an agent is the originator of a series of events leading to a given result, then the agent’s behaviour in bringing about the result counts as an instance of doing. If an agent is not the originator of a series of events leading to a given result (and does not prevent it from occurring), then the agent’s behaviour counts as an instance of allowing. In the scenario which Lim goes on to mention, viz. ‘the houseplant dies because the owner fails to water it over the holidays’ (Lim 2017, p. 9), the owner is not the source of the series of events leading to the houseplant’s death, and thus this does not count as an act of doing but of allowing. In the rest of his article, Lim discusses a few cases and concludes that: All that really seems to matter when making moral evaluations of divine behavior is not the doing-allowing distinction, but the Kantian distinction. Morally speaking, we need not worry whether God does something or merely allows it, what really matters is whether or not God treats a person only as means to a further end. (Lim 2017, p. 14) One of the cases Lim discusses is as follows: Ray is a dentist who has a son, Timothy, who has tooth decay. Ray decides to perform a routine dental procedure on him that he knows will be painful. That is, Ray decides to perform a procedure that will harm his son. Nevertheless Ray goes through with the procedure and his son is forced to endure pain. This is an example of doing harm, performing a painful dental procedure, by which Ray does not treat his son only as a means to a further end. (Lim 2017, p. 14) I agree that ‘broadly Kantian considerations’ are important and that they may be the only morally significant considerations in certain cases. However, ‘broadly Kantian considerations’ by themselves are clearly insufficient for addressing the problem of evil as a whole, which involves other kinds of cases. In particular, we need to consider the kind of cases which involve the origination of evil intentions and actions. Here we need to distinguish between what an agent wills (intention), the inherent value of the outcome which the will of the agent brings about, and the instrumental value of the outcome which is brought about in what God sees as the best overall plan for this world. There is a clear distinction between a person’s intention for bringing about a state of affairs and

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the value of the outcome—for example, a person can intend evil but bring about good, or vice versa. There is a clear distinction between the inherent value of a state of affairs brought about by human choice—for example, whether the state of affairs is inherently good or evil—and its instrumental value—for example, whether an inherently evil or an inherently good state of affairs is a necessary condition for a greater good or not. Consider Lim’s understanding of PROVIDENCE as, ‘God actively brings about everything that happens in the world.’ On this understanding, God actively brings about every evil intention and action. This would imply that God is the originator of evil. Given Lim’s view that what really matter are the ‘broadly Kantian considerations,’ I suppose he would say that it is morally insignificant that God originates and does evil, as long as God has the good intention of treating persons as ends-in-themselves. But it is clearly problematic to say that God is the source of evil and that he does evil. It would imply that there is evil within the being of God, which violates the doctrine of God as a Perfect Being. It is also contrary to ‘the sacred texts embedded in the various monotheistic traditions’ (p. 2) which Lim appeals to in his article; for example, it is contrary to Psalm 145:17: ‘The LORD is righteous in all His ways and kind in all His deeds.’ It should be noted that this verse does not imply that God will not inflict any suffering. Consider the case of Timothy getting a dental procedure for his tooth decay. Although the dental procedure causes pain and suffering, the intention is to treat the teeth, and what it achieves is good. One might therefore argue that the moral evaluation of such instances of suffering should not be done by considering the suffering in and of itself. Rather one has to take into consideration what the suffering achieves, i.e. the instrumental value of the suffering. Thus the affirmation that God is righteous and kind in all his deeds does not imply that he would not inflict suffering. However, the moral evaluation of intention is another matter. The intention of someone wanting to torture a child for fun is evil, regardless of the outcome. Thus the affirmation that God is righteous and kind in all his deeds does imply that he would not actively bring about intentions and actions that are morally evil, such as (say) Smith torturing a child for fun, or someone hating God. The only way to avoid the conclusion that God is the originator of evil is to give up Lim’s view of PROVIDENCE, to embrace an alternative view of divine providence, and to defend ASSUMPTION. Finally, it should be noted that the Middle Knowledge perspective explained previously is not the only alternative to PROVIDENCE. There are a number of ways theists have conceptualized the relationship between divine control and human freedom, with Free Will Theism having three important variants differing with respect to God’s knowledge: a b

Theological Determinism (Lim’s understanding of PROVIDENCE). Free Will Theism: God could be all controlling. But to the extent that God grants humans meaningful freedom, God has voluntarily given up control over what will occur.

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c

Open Theism: God knows all that has occurred and is occurring and can predict (but does not know) what people will freely do. Simple Foreknowledge: God knows all that has occurred, is occurring, and will actually occur. Middle Knowledge: In addition to knowing all that has occurred, is occurring, and will actually occur, God also knows exactly what would occur given every possible situation.

Process Theism: God cannot unilaterally control anything. All entities always retain some power of self-determination. Nevertheless, God is at every moment attempting to persuade all entities to choose the best available option.

It is beyond the scope of this book to provide a detailed assessment of these views. Suffice it to note that in my view there are serious problems with Open Theism, Simple Foreknowledge, and Process Theism (see McCall 2016; Peckham 2018; Loke 2013), and that the Middle Knowledge perspective can avoid these problems (it is beyond the scope of this book to provide a detailed philosophical defence of the Middle Knowledge perspective, although I shall respond to the strongest objection, viz. the grounding objection, in Chapter 6. Many helpful responses [e.g. concerning the compatibility between divine foreknowledge and human libertarian freedom, responses to Open Theism and fatalism] can be found in Moreland and Craig 2003; Flint 2015; Stratton 2020 and the sources cited). This does not imply that a Christian must hold to a ‘Middle Knowledge’ account, for there might well be other accounts which are also consistent with the Scriptures and which do not have the problems that beset the other views. McCall (2016, p. 336) notes that: even if we cannot fully explain the mysterious workings of providence— even if our best attempts at detailed explanation fall somewhat short—this does not entail that there are no good explanations. It means only that we don’t currently have such explanations at hand. Nevertheless, I do think that the Middle Knowledge view is a defensible view, and I shall adopt this view in what follows.

3.4 Libertarian freedom vs Compatibilist freedom 3.4.1 Introducing the concepts The Middle Knowledge view assumes a Libertarian understanding of free will, which contrasts with a Compatibilist understanding (concerning the compatibility between Libertarian free will and science, see Mele 2014). In the definitions of Compatibilism and Libertarianism given in what follows, free will is understood as a kind of power or ability to make decisions of the sort for which one can be morally responsible (Fischer et al. 2007, pp. 1–4). Compatibilist free will can be

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defined as the view that humans have free will, and the possession of free will is compatible with determinism (pp. 1–4). Determinism is the thesis that everything that happens is necessitated by what has already gone before, in such a way that nothing can happen otherwise than it does (Strawson 2004). According to Compatibilists, freedom is essentially just a matter of not being constrained or hindered in certain ways when one acts or chooses (e.g. one is not being threatened by a gun, not drugged, not in chains, etc.), and ‘our actions (unlike those of creatures driven by instinct) are mediated by our wills, which means that we experience them as ours: whatever it is I may do, I cannot avoid recognizing that I did it’ (McFarland 2016, p. 307; italics in original). In this sense humans are supposed to be wholly free to choose and act, even if their whole physical and psychological make-up (e.g. the desires and reasons which they happen to possess) which determines their choice is entirely determined by things for which they are in no way ultimately responsible—starting with their genetic inheritance and early upbringing (p. 307). Among theologians, the views of Augustine, Martin Luther, John Calvin, and Francis Turrentin can be classified as Compatibilist.4 An extreme form of divine determinism known as Occasionalism was held by theologians such as Bishop Berkeley and Jonathan Edwards, which affirms that the cosmos is being re-created ex nihilo moment-by-moment by God who is thus the sole causal agent of all events, including human sinful actions (Crisp 2012, p. 144). By contrast, Libertarianism affirms that free will is incompatible with determinism, i.e. the free action of any agent is not determined by the history of the world, the laws of nature, and the actions of any other agents (Flint 1988, p. 175). Rather, the sources or origins of our actions lie ‘in us’ rather than in something else. Agents have the ability to act in more than one way voluntarily, intentionally, and rationally, which implies alternative possibilities (the agents could have done otherwise) (Kane 2007, pp. 1–26).5 Unlike Compatibilists, Libertarians assert that a person possesses ‘active power,’ which is ‘the ability to initiate motion, to bring something about,’ and ‘categorical ability,’ which is the ability to refrain from performing an act (Moreland 1998, pp. 266–7). In making an intentional act, a person exerts this active power as a first mover (an originator of change) for the sake of a reason, which serves as a teleological goal for which he acts (pp. 266–7). Concerning character formation from a Libertarian perspective, Robert Kane explains well when he says that Libertarian freedom does not require that we could have done otherwise for every act done of our own free wills. But it does require that we could have done otherwise with respect to some acts in our past life histories by which we formed our present characters, by which some acts would then be determined. He calls these earlier acts by which we formed our present characters ‘self-forming actions.’ For example, one can grant that, when Martin Luther was at the Diet of Worms, he could have been responsible for not recanting even though he could not have done otherwise then and there, and even if his act was determined by his character and motives. But this would be so, only to the extent that Luther was responsible for his present motives and character by

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virtue of some earlier struggles and ‘self-forming actions’ that brought him to this point in his life where he could do no other (Kane 2007, pp. 14–15; Kane refers to the inner struggles and turmoil that Luther endured getting to that point in his life). In this case, even the ‘determined acts’ that Luther made in Worms were ultimately the result of the choices that he made as a ‘first mover.’ Among theologians, the views of John Chrysostom, Anselm of Canterbury, Jacobus Arminius, Luis Molina, and John Wesley can be classified as Libertarian. It is also the consensus view of the church fathers prior to Augustine. As Paul Gavrilyuk explains: Relatively early among patristic theologians, a broad agreement emerged that the free will of some rational creatures accounted for the actualization of evil. The Creator could not be held responsible for the free evil choices that rational creatures made, since God did not causally determine these choices … the misuse of angelic and human free will is the cause of evil. (Gavrilyuk 2016, pp. 4–6) Likewise, McFarland (2016, p. 305) observes that: In the midst of a pagan culture that from the level of popular religion to the most elevated philosophies was imbued with a heavy dose of fatalism, Christian theologians throughout the patristic period placed enormous weight on freedom of the will as a defining feature of humankind. Objections against Libertarian freedom have been offered on the grounds that Biblical passages that speak of God’s foreknowledge, sovereignty, predetermination of human actions, and the certainty of the future triumph of God’s will are best explained by Compatibilism (for an extensive treatment, see John Feinberg 2001, pp. 677–798). However, these passages can also be accounted for by an Arminian/ Molinist framework, a framework in which Libertarian freedom is preserved (see e. g. Walls and Dongell 2004; Osborne 2003; Craig 1989; 1990; 2001; Loke 2013; Stratton 2020). 3.4.2 Moral responsibility The reason why Libertarian free will provides adequate grounds for moral responsibility and hence it is essential for the identity and integrity of a morally responsible human person is because, according to Libertarianism, it is ultimately the agent who caused a moral act as a ‘first mover.’ Hence, if the agent did evil, it is the agent who is ultimately responsible for that evil, and he is blameworthy for that evil. Responsibility for an evil act extends only to the agent who chooses with his active power to cause that act, since that agent is the originator (i.e. ‘first mover’) of that act. By contrast, according to Compatibilism a person is not the ‘first mover’ of his moral acts, as he has neither the ‘active power’ nor the ‘categorical ability’

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described earlier. Rather, other factors such as his circumstances and the beliefs and desires which he happens to possess determine his actions. Furthermore, in contrast with Libertarianism, the make-up of a person’s character (i.e. his system of beliefs and desires) is wholly caused by factors outside of himself. The Compatibilist’s understanding of free will as essentially just a matter of not being constrained or hindered in certain ways when one acts or chooses is simply insufficient to ground moral responsibility, because this understanding does not address the problem that the ultimate cause for one’s acts and choices lies outside oneself. With this problem, there are no adequate grounds for asserting that he is responsible for his acts, despite Compatibilists’ claim to the contrary. The Compatibilist might argue that, because a person’s desires are his, he cannot escape responsibility for them, however unavoidable these desires may be for him. As long as the person can say, ‘I did it; those were my actions,’ he is morally accountable, for to try to avoid that conclusion would require him stepping outside of himself—as though his desires weren’t his, or as if he could separate himself from his desires (McFarland 2016). This argument, however, is subjected to the following counter-example: Suppose that someone drugged my drink without me knowing, and the drug caused me to have irresistibly violent desires, and I killed somebody as a result. In this scenario, it is evident that I was not responsible for the crime, even though ‘I did it out of my desires, and that was my action.’ The reason why I was not responsible is because my action was caused irresistibly by factors (i.e. the drugging of my drink) over which I had no control, and the person who drugged me was responsible. As Swinburne explains: We feel that men are not morally responsible for their intentional actions on those occasions when (to all appearances) they are caused so to act by irresistible desires … whether that desire was caused by drugs or advertising, upbringing, or genetic inheritance. And the general justification of this stance must surely be that an agent is not responsible for actions resulting from his choices, when those choices are caused by factors over which he has no control. (Swinburne 1998, pp. 52–5; italics mine) What Swinburne’s argument implies is that Compatibilism has no adequate grounds for asserting any morally significant difference between a situation in which a person kills another because his drink was drugged, and a situation in which a person kills another in accordance with his character (e.g. Hitler’s killing of the Jews). The reason is because, according to Compatibilism the reason why a person is disposed to act in a certain manner is also wholly caused by factors outside of him, in which case the acts in both situations are caused by the chain of causes going through the agent’s will. In both situations, the person’s acts are caused irresistibly by factors over which he has no control. By contrast, this would not be the case if persons have Libertarian free will. The reason is because, as explained already, according to Libertarianism a

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person’s free choices are involved in the formation of his character, as it is his free choices that decide which desires and beliefs form his disposition. Hence, a person like Hitler cannot be excused for killing the Jews in accordance with his character. In a situation where a person was drugged, his submission to violent desires is not caused by his free choice, and thus he can be excused. Therefore, Libertarianism provides adequate grounds for moral responsibility, but Compatibilism does not. The logical consequence of Compatibilism is that God’s judgement on individuals would not be based on their blameworthiness. For if Compatibilism were true, any person who succumbed to temptation would be excused on the grounds that it was ultimately his desires and circumstances that caused him to succumb, and these factors are ultimately not within his control, as they are determined by factors outside him. Hence, these choices ultimately could not have been resisted by the person, in which case moral responsibility cannot be attributed to the person. Swinburne observes that: If determinism is true … There might even be still a point in blaming people, in heaping moral censure upon them when they committed bad acts—for such condemnation might have the deterrent effect of leading them not to commit similar acts in future. But the point of blaming them would no longer be that they were blameworthy. (Swinburne 2007a, p. 58; italics in original) This implication of Compatibilism contradicts the Biblical notion that God inflicts punishment on persons because they are blameworthy. It contradicts the notion that sinners are inexcusably responsible for their individual sins, a notion implied by passages such as Deuteronomy 24:16, Ezekiel 18:20, and Romans 3:4. Finally, if there were no libertarian freedom in any creature, then ultimately the Creator is the only ‘first mover,’ and thus the responsibility and blameworthiness for evil would go to him. Hence, asserting that all creatures possess Compatibilist instead of Libertarian freedom would have the theologically unacceptable consequence of implicating God with the responsibility for evil. McFarland, a theological compatibilist, tries to argue that we are responsible for evil because: the will’s perversion—does not render our agency any less real. I may be oriented to money or power or sex or food as the source of my imagined fulfilment, but it is by my willing these things—and thus responsibly—that I seek them out. No one else moves my limbs or directs my thoughts … my actions … are part of my identity as an agent. (McFarland 2016, p. 314) However, on McFarland’s view, the formation of my character is brought about by causes over which I have no control, rather the causal chain goes back to God as the First Cause, and according to McFarland’s Compatibilism I do not have the power to have acted differently in a given situation (p. 314). Thus, McFarland’s view entails that God causes X causes Y to cause Z, where X are intermediate

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causes leading to the formation of the identity of Y (say, Hitler) and causing him to cause Z (say, the Holocaust). Thus, McFarland’s view entails that God is responsible for evils such as the Holocaust (this entailment does not follow on Libertarianism, which affirms that God causes X causes Y who freely causes [i.e. is the first cause of] Z; on this view only Y is responsible for Z). Appealing to God’s permissive will does not help the Compatibilist’s case, because on Compatibilism the circumstances in which an evil act is perpetrated are causally sufficient for that act, and these are themselves directly or indirectly caused by God. By contrast, the Molinist can appeal to God’s permissive will (Craig 2001, p. 205). A Compatibilist might object that the Libertarian conception of free choice is not better off,6 because it implies that such a choice is a brute fact which (implausibly) rules out inclinations to do one thing or another. McFarland (2007, p. 21 n62) objects that on Libertarianism a person’s choice is ultimately an unexplained riddle or a chance event. Citing Augustine, McFarland (2016, p. 307) also objects that such a position would make it impossible to explain anyone’s actions: One could not appeal to a person’s motives to understand their actions, because if the action were to be truly (viz. ‘indifferently’) free, those motives themselves would have had to be willed, as would the motives for choosing those motives, and so on ad infinitum. In reply, a Libertarian free choice does not rule out inclinations to do one thing or another, because these inclinations can be understood not as causes of action but rather as what the agent chooses to act on, and contrary to McFarland there is no infinite regress given that the agent is the first cause. To elaborate, libertarian free choices are indeterministic but not uncaused. As Randolph Clarke and Justin Capes explain, on agent-causal theories, a free decision (or some event internal to such a decision) must be caused by the agent; and it must not be the case that either what the agent causes or the agent’s causing that event is causally determined by prior events. Thus an agent is in a strict and literal sense an originator of her free decisions. This combination of indeterminism and cause (origination) is thought to capture best the idea that, when we act freely, a plurality of alternatives is open to us and we determine, ourselves, which of these we pursue. In response to the objection that the explanatory role of reasons seems to be excluded, Clarke and Capes (2015) suggest an account in which a free action is caused by the agent and non-deterministically caused by the agent’s recognition of certain reasons for which she acts. Acting for a reason does not mean that the person has a reason which determined her choice for a reason. Rather, as Lowe (2008, pp. 181–90) explains, acting for a reason means that the reason for which the agent acted is simply the reason which the agent chose to act upon. Being ‘responsive’ to a reason for acting in this manner is not being determined to act in a certain way by that reason. Thus indeterminism and causality can both be affirmed, and it is not a random choice given that reason is involved.

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3.4.3 Love and praiseworthiness Aquinas and many other thinkers in the Christian tradition have argued that: personal relationship is the genus within which the greatest goods for human beings fall. On this conviction, the greatest good for human beings—the greatest flourishing of human beings—consists in personal relationships of a certain sort … the greatest of personal relationships, and the greatest good for human beings is to be in a union of love with God. This is a share- able good, and so union with God is union with other persons also in union with God. The best thing for human beings is this shared union with God. The worst thing for human beings is to lack it forever. So, for Aquinas, the scale of values for human beings has shared union with God as its intrinsic upper limit and the permanent absence of that union as its extrinsic lower limit. On this scale of value, then, a person’s flourishing is a matter of her increasing closeness to God. (Stump 2018, p. 16) Peckham (2018, p. 43) notes that: the kind of libertarian freedom necessary for love to be freely given and freely received by finite beings entails epistemic freedom—that is, freedom with regard to what one believes and does not believe. For finite beings, love relationship involves faith and trust, which involve one’s epistemic faculties. Moreover, ‘since genuine love relationship entails more than merely mental action, genuine love requires what I call consequential freedom—that is, libertarian freedom to externally effect in the world what one internally wills’ (p. 43). The notion that love requires free will in the libertarian sense is indicated by a number of Scriptural passages as well. For example, Matthew 23:37 portrays Christ as saying: Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it! How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing! Peckham (2018, p. 42) argues that: the fact that God actually desires love relationship with free creatures who are capable of love as an end in itself but does not enjoy love relationship with all such free creatures indicates that love relationship cannot be determined by God. Stump (2011, p. 189) notes that ‘if God unilaterally determines a human will to be perfectly good, then the will in that human being is God’s will, not the human person’s. And in that case union is precluded, not achieved.’

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Ekstrom (2021, p. 53) has raised an objection by arguing that libertarian free choice is not required for all forms of genuine love. She cites parental love as a counterexample, and argues that, even if we should discover one day that determinism is true, that should not make one think that what one believed to be an instance of genuine love was not an instance of genuine love (p. 54). She cites (on p. 58) Schellenberg who writes: For we would still be able to form emotional attachments and grow in propositional knowledge and knowledge by acquaintance of other persons, thus deepening our appreciation for them; and we would still be able to decide on the basis of reasons to become committed to them and act on our commitments. And what is all this if not love? (Schellenberg 2007, p. 264) There are at least two problems with Ekstrom’s objection. First, Ekstrom misses the point that it is love between persons that is of importance here. Ekstrom (2021, p. 64) herself acknowledges that ‘libertarian conceptions of free will answer to our conception of our selves as agents facing an open future.’ It seems plausible to claim that without libertarian freedom we would not be agents but would be automata rather than persons.7 According to this claim, even if one can still speak of love between parent and child in terms of emotional attachments, knowledge, appreciation, and commitments and define it as genuine love, it would not be love between persons. In order to refute the free will defence, Ekstrom would need to bear the burden of proof to demonstrate that the foregoing claim concerning agent and automata is false, but she has failed to do so. Second, Ekstrom’s account of love would not be praiseworthy love given Ekstrom’s own acknowledgement that ‘intuition supports the idea that libertarian freedom is required for moral responsibility of the sort grounding deserved praise and blame’ (p. 62). Contrast a doctor who treated a patient because he was ultimately determined by external factors to do so, with another doctor who freely chose to treat a patient in a way that puts his own life at risk, even though he could have chosen not to do so. It is evident that the act of the latter is praiseworthy, but the former not so (contra Schellenberg 2004). If we are without any libertarian freedom, our actions would be morally worthless. Lewis (1980, p. 48) observes that: A world of automata—of creatures that worked like machines—would hardly be worth creating. The happiness which God designs for His higher creatures is the happiness of being freely, voluntarily united to Him and to each other … . And for that they must be free. Citing Pereboom, Ekstrom (2021) writes: If we can have purpose, and if we can have good interpersonal relationships, fulfillment, and happiness, all without moral responsibility in the sense

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In reply, I have explained already that Ekstrom has failed to show that we can have good interpersonal relationships without libertarian free will, given her failure to rule out the claim that libertarian free will is essential for personhood. Moreover, since praise and blame are tied to value and worth, and since the is-ought distinction indicates a distinction between ‘plain matters of fact’ and ‘evaluation and obligation’ which requires persons, in the absence of personhood the objective moral value and duties of humans would be non-existent as well. As noted already, Ekstrom herself acknowledges that ‘intuition supports the idea that libertarian freedom is required for moral responsibility of the sort grounding deserved praise and blame’ (p. 62), and yet her preferred view rejects libertarian freedom. Her view therefore implies that the actions of Mother Teresa would not deserve praise, nor the actions of Adolf Hitler deserve blame; there would be no moral difference between them, as Rosenberg (2011) concludes in his book The Atheist’s Guide to Reality. This is a reductio ad absurdum of Pereboom’s and Ekstrom’s view. Ekstrom (2021) says that she would greatly prefer to live in a world without creaturely libertarian free will but which is wondrous and good (‘only pleasure, kindness, right choices’) and which lacks moral evil and instances of suffering such as ‘murder, rape, theft, persistent physical pain, the abuse of children, and wrongdoing and victimization of all sorts’ (p. 68). However, as noted earlier, Ekstrom has failed to rule out the claim that such a world would be an impersonal world, in which human beings are automata living morally worthless lives. Although Ekstrom might prefer such a world subjectively, she has failed to show that such a world ought to be preferred (i.e. objectively) compared to a world with genuine persons living morally worthy lives. Hence, her argument from evil against the existence of God (for which she bears the burden of proof) fails. 3.4.4 What about heaven? It might be asked: If the nature of love relationship entails the making of a real choice in the process, to draw near to or away from another, could people still choose to draw away from God in heaven? If so, how could heaven be perfect? If not, then how could love relationships exist in heaven? In a similar vein, Wildman (2007, p. 292) objects that to articulate a ‘coherent eschatology would only be theological disaster’ since ‘God would be flagrantly morally inconsistent’ in creating this world when that idealised world was possible all along. This objection is related to Eastern Orthodox theologians’ emphasis

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that humanity moves from a lower (created) to a higher (deified) state (Louth 2020). Madueme (2020, p. 138) raises the worry that on this view God gave us less than his best at creation which renders God partly responsible for the deficient condition of original humanity (the same worry applies to original angelic beings as well). In reply, as explained previously, the nature of love relationship between creatures and God—in particular, a creature’s love for the Creator God—and the moral goodness does require the creature making a real choice for which the creature is ultimately responsible, as well as moral testing (see the discussion on divine hiddenness in Chapter 7). Given this, God cannot initially create angels and humans in a condition that would make moral testing and the possibility of sinning impossible. However, once someone has made the choice in the process, God can confirm and establish him/her in that choice by moulding and strengthening the character of that person such that he/she would not want to draw away from God in heaven. A person’s character can determine him/her not to want to make certain choices (Pawl and Timpe 2009). To illustrate, when Mother Teresa was young she may have chosen to play with her toys and ignored the suffering of other children, but it would be hard to imagine her doing that when she had grown up and dedicated her life to serving Christ! Why? Because her character would have been formed in a certain way by then. Therefore, the future state of the saints in heaven could be such that their moral character would have been formed to such an extent that they would not do evil (Pawl and Timpe 2009). Now, it can be argued that the formation of character requires free choice in the process: the person freely chooses to have a certain character, but once the character is formed the person would not want to make certain choices that he/she would have made before his/her character was formed. Likewise, a person must choose to have a love relationship with God before his/her God-loving character can be formed, but once his/her character is sufficiently formed he/she would not want to draw away from God anymore but would enjoy God’s presence forever in heaven. It is important for the moral value of free creatures that they are ultimately responsible for their characters which are the results of their earlier free choices (Choo and Goh 2019, pp. 39–40; see Kane’s point concerning libertarian freedom and the formation of character explained earlier; the Compatibilist account of free will is unable to accommodate such an account of morally valuable character formation; cf. Schellenberg 2004; 2013b, pp. 171–3). Therefore, God does not create free creatures with such perfect moral characters initially. Although having a significant moral freedom to turn to God or away from him may not be the ultimately perfect state, it is a necessary state before the ultimately perfect state of being glorified saints in heaven. Since having such a freedom is a necessary state, having such a freedom is good, and hence God in his perfect plan created humans in that state. Thus, at the initial stages of free creatures, they could have freely chosen to gratify certain desires and to disregard certain reasons, and therefore freely chosen to disobey God even if they had known that it was an irrational thing to do (see further, Chapters 5 and 6). Given that they were not made with perfect character

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which, as explained earlier, is supposed to be freely chosen in order that they can be morally valuable creatures, there is a possibility that they would choose to gratify certain desires rather than following reason. (For further discussion on libertarian freedom, see Section 5.2.) 3.4.5 Conclusion In conclusion, the Libertarian (but not the Compatibilist) conception of free will is consistent with the understanding of human moral accountability and love which traditional Christianity affirms. A theological compatibilist might object that this is true only from the human perspective, but not from God’s perspective. In response, it should be noted that in Ezekiel 18:29 (‘But the house of Israel says, “The way of the Lord is not right.” Are My ways not right, O house of Israel? Is it not your ways that are not right?’), God engages in moral reasoning with the Israelites. This implies that the idea of moral responsibility from human and God’s perspective cannot be radically different. For if they were, there would have been no basis for moral reasoning between God and humans, which we do find in the Scriptures (see further, Section 8.6).

3.5 The origin of evil and whether evil is necessary Barth refers to evil as ‘nothingness’ (das Nichtige) and seeks to explain its origins by saying that it ‘is that other from which God separates Godself, in opposition to which [God] asserts Godself and enforces God’s positive will’ (Barth 1936–1977, III/3, p. 351; italics in original). ‘In other words, nothingness is an unavoidable by-product of divine activity: insofar as God in eternity wills positively to elect humanity in Jesus Christ as the purpose and goal of creation, there is something which God does not will’ (Nimmo 2016, p. 292). God’s rejection of it gives it reality as an ‘impossible possibility,’ as that which God rejected when God elected a good creation (Fiddes 2017, p. 214). However, Barth fails to distinguish between possible and actual worlds. There are of course possible worlds (bad creation) which God did not create but rejected, i.e. these possible worlds are not actualized in the concrete world. Therefore Barth’s view can only at most explain the possibility of evil, but not the actuality of it. And yet Barth tries to use his view to explain the actuality of the evil of the first sin of humanity (Barth 1936–1977, IV/1, p. 352). A better explanation is given by traditional Christian theology which affirms that God did not create evil, rather, God created free creatures (angels, humans) some of whom freely chose to reject God and brought about evil. A creature with free will is understood here in a libertarian sense as being in some sense the ‘first cause’ of certain decisions, for which he/she could have chosen otherwise. Given this, he/she could actualize a morally evil act as the first cause of that act. God has given free creatures free will, but God does not cause their free choices, and free will is not in itself evil but rather good, and God did not create these creatures evil. Rather their choices are freely chosen by them in virtue of their free will.

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The foregoing view does not undermine the sovereignty of God (a Barthian concern), since the creation of creatures with free will is subjected to the will of God; if God had not created, these creatures would not have been able to exercise their free will to (say) choose God or reject God. Neither does the foregoing view imply the creature’s independence from God, rather the doctrine of divine concursus affirms that ‘creatures are always both totally and immediately dependent on God for their being and actions’ (McFarland 2014, p. 132), and that creaturely freedom is merely ‘a particular form of creaturely dependence on God (1 Cor. 15:10; cf. Gal. 2:20): God is the author and ground of freedom, just as God is the author and ground of natural laws’ (p. 149). McFarland (2014, p. 120) objects that: If God is the sole condition of every creature at every point and in every aspect of its existence, then it seems doubtful that responsibility for evil can really be pushed off onto the creature in such a way as to leave God in the clear. In response, even though God is the cause of free creatures, God is not the cause of their moral evil choices, rather free creatures are the ‘first cause’ of their evil choices, and hence they are responsible for them. One might object, ‘But if God had not created those moral agents, evil would not have to be present, so God is responsible for those evils they commit.’ However, if one were to accept such reasoning, then all great-grandparents of murderers would be responsible for murder since, if they had chosen not to have children, those murders would not have happened. Reductio ad absurdum. McFarland (2014, p. 133) objects that: Because evil by definition does not accord with God’s will for creation … it does not serve either to educate or to punish, nor is it rightly conceived as the condition for the possibility of some other desirable feature of created existence (e.g., freedom). However, the conclusion does not follow. McFarland himself goes on to argue that creatures are not created perfect in the beginning and that the realization of creaturely perfection is a movement which should not be interpreted as some sort of a defect. Rather, given that movement is an intrinsic feature of created finite living beings, part of their inherent goodness is to undergo the kinds of changes associated with growth and maturation (McFarland 2014, p. 133). Thus, ‘evil is properly understood as that which God is always in the process of disallowing … what God is always countering and encouraging us to counter’ (pp. 133–4). ‘As that to which God is absolutely opposed, it can be said to exist only as that which God continually and without qualification works to eradicate by bringing creation to the end envisioned by Paul in Romans 8’ (p. 133). McFarland’s own explanation indicates that the fact that ‘evil by definition does not accord with God’s will for creation’ is consistent with his explanation of the existence of evil as due to

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what is necessary for the inherent goodness of creatures to grow. One can likewise argue that the fact that ‘evil by definition does not accord with God’s desirative will for creation (but is in accord with his permissive will)’ is consistent with the possibility of evil as due to what is necessary for the inherent responsibility and moral goodness of creatures who are able to freely love. Moreover, the latter account is better than McFarland’s, which (despite his insistence to the contrary) amounts to positing evil as necessary for some greater good (as McFarland explains it, as due to what is necessary for the inherent goodness of creatures to grow). This sort of felix culpa theodicy faces an objection that is well expressed by Davis: ‘Those theists who hold that all evil helps lead to a greater good deny that “genuine evil” exists. They implicitly affirm that all evil is only apparent’ (Davis 2001, p. 134; italics mine). Because of this objection, I deny the claim that evil is necessary simpliciter. Nevertheless, I do agree that the sufferings in the world are a necessary precondition for achieving the greatest good given our present state of fallenness. As I noted earlier (citing Mencius and Nietzsche), many thinkers from East and West throughout history have recognized that suffering can work out for good given our present state of existence (see further, Chapter 8). I also agree that, while the existence of some form of evil being a necessary precondition for some form of good does not imply that God must create a world with those forms of evil and those forms of good, nevertheless the existence of those goods might make a world with those evils good overall. As Plantinga (1979, p. 23) observes: Certain kinds of values, certain familiar kinds of good states of affairs, can’t exist apart from evil of some sort. For example, there are some people who display a sort of creative moral heroism in the face of suffering and adversity—a heroism that inspires others and creates a good situation out of a bad one. In a situation like this the evil, of course, remains evil; but the total state of affairs—someone’s bearing pain magnificently, for example—may be good. If it is, then the good present must outweigh the evil; otherwise the total situation would not be good. But, of course, it is not possible that such a good state of affairs obtain unless some evil also obtain. It is a necessary truth that if someone bears pain magnificently, then someone is in pain.

3.6 How was it possible for evil to be chosen? It might be asked, ‘If the angel who later became Satan was originally created in a flawless state, why would he freely choose evil?’ Lewis (1980) replies: The better stuff a creature is made of—the cleverer and stronger and freer it is—then the better it will be if it goes right, but also the worse it will be if it goes wrong. A cow cannot be very good or very bad; a dog can be both better and worse; a child better and worse still; an ordinary man, still more so; a man of genius, still more so; a superhuman spirit best—or worst—of all. (p. 49)

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Nevertheless, one might still ask how it was possible for evil to be chosen in a best state. It should be noted that libertarian free will by itself does not imply the freedom to choose good or evil. For example, a person may be given only the options to make non-moral choices, such as choosing between eating various kinds of fruits. In this case, even though he/she can freely choose whether to eat a banana, apple, etc., he/she cannot choose to freely do any morally wrong acts because there is no moral significance attached to these choices (this is different from the case of eating from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil, see Chapter 5). In this book, unless otherwise specified, I am using libertarian free will to refer to morally significant creaturely libertarian free will, that is, having the freedom to choose right or wrong (Plantinga 1974, p. 359; as I explained in Chapter 2, this requirement for moral significance does not apply to the Creator). 1 Timothy 3:6 hints that the first sin of Satan is related to pride and conceit, whereas John 8:44 describes him as a murderer, not keeping the truth, and a liar. But how did the pride and conceit arise? Lewis (1980, p. 49) writes: The moment you have a self at all, there is a possibility of putting yourself first—wanting to be the centre—wanting to be God, in fact. That was the sin of Satan: and that was the sin he taught the human race. But where did the desire to put self first come from? Augustine famously found the primal sin inexplicable, and his puzzlement concerning the first sin of Adam and Eve whom he assumed were ‘created with a volitional structure in which love for God and love for themselves and others were properly ordered from the start’ (Couenhoven 2016, pp. 187–8) may be applied to the first angelic sin as well. That is, why would such free creatures have sinned if they were created with perfect natures? As Couenhoven (2016, pp. 189–90) puts it: they had no reason not to trust God, and their own natures inclined them to do so … Those who were made to love God should not have found the prospect of defying God attractive, and pride should not have come naturally to them … Augustine had no explanation to offer concerning why it would suddenly make sense to them that God’s law should be violated. I shall discuss the historical existence of Adam and Eve and the objection based on the theory of evolution in Chapter 5. Here I shall offer a reply to Augustine on the assumption that they existed. It has been explained previously that according to Christian theism the greatest good for creatures is to have a relationship of love with God. Thus the Christian can reply that the possibility of evil arises as a result of this. To elaborate, if God—because of his goodness— gives angels and humans significant libertarian freedom such that they could have a genuine relationship of love with him and be capable of moral good—both of which require personal responsibility towards the ground of morality (i.e. God) and hence significant free will with respect to this ground—then moral evil and suffering are possible. Given that God is perfectly good, to reject him would be evil, which would bring suffering.

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Therefore, God did not create evil. According to the Scripture, God created creatures not because he needed anything, rather it was to bless them (Acts 17:24–25). God desires to bless them because he is love (1 John 4:8). Given that God desires to bless creatures such as angels and humans with good things, it would be natural (and not an evil or a flaw) for them to have desires for good things (moral virtues, love relationship, knowledge, good food, etc.) and desires for their own self-interests (it has also been argued in Section 3.1 that desire and lust [in particular, their relations to consent and sin] should be distinguished). Therefore, God created free and initially flawless creatures (angels, Adam and Eve) with desires for good things and their own self-interests. However, a creature with libertarian freedom may freely choose to regard those good things and its own self-interest to be more important than God himself, and hence may freely choose to reject God and bring about the origination of evil. Augustine might ask why would they desire those good things more than God himself, and why would God not have created them with a greater desire for God himself such that they would not choose to sin? In a similar vein, Ekstrom (2021, pp. 152–3) writes: What I think is unfathomable is that a created person could truly encounter God, in all God’s glory, greatness, pure goodness, and radiant love, and yet freely choose to view God as repulsive. If one has genuinely encountered God—if, as Kvanvig supposes, ‘the infinite love of God has been displayed in the most persuasive way’—then one is persuaded: the attraction of the most attractive, glorious, unsurpassable being is irresistible. This question is based on the Compatibilist’s assumption that a person’s choice is determined by the strengths of his/her desires such that willing follows desire (McFarland 2016, p. 307, citing Augustine). However, this assumption is rejected by libertarianism. According to libertarian freedom, a person’s free choice is not determined by the strength of the desires he/she happened to possess, on the contrary he/she has the freedom to choose what he/she has less desire for, even though this is less likely (see also the discussion on personal essence in Section 6.6). On the other hand, Murray notes that ‘there is nothing about satisfaction concerning one’s current condition that entails that one would not find another condition,’ such as ‘equality with God,’ to ‘be even more enriching or satisfying’ (Murray 2008, p. 86). In summary, I have explained that a state in which angels existed and were different from God and had natural desires for good things is not an evil state, but it results in the possibility of evil, and some angels freely chose to actualize this possibility. The existence of this possibility is not in itself evil—indeed, the world would have remained without evil if those angels did not freely choose to sin, even though the possibility of sinning remains as well, and it has been explained previously in Chapter 2 that having this possibility at some point in the creature’s life is necessary for the moral value of creatures (concerning the heavenly state, see further, Section 3.4.4). Some philosophers have gone further and argued that,

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not only is the possibility of sinning not in itself evil, a propensity to moral wrongdoing is a significant good for creatures because ‘the more serious the free will and the stronger the contrary temptation, the better it is when the good action is done’ (Swinburne 1998, pp. 86–7). On this understanding, it would be good for angels to be given this propensity, and those angels who chose the good action are morally valuable. However, there are also others who chose evil, and this explains the origin of evil.

3.7 Angelic Fall According to traditional Christian theology, before humans sinned, moral evil already existed. Genesis 3 portrays the serpent sinned prior to Adam and Eve by tempting Eve to eat from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. Although Genesis does not explicitly identify this serpent with the devil (and numerous scholars since the Enlightenment have questioned this traditional identification),8 the wider canon explicitly identifies this serpent as the devil who was said to have sinned from the beginning (Revelation 12:9, 14: ancient serpent=devil; 1 John 3:8) (Peckham 2018, p. 89). Various Scriptural passages portray the Fall of the evil angels: 2 Peter 2:4 says that ‘God did not spare the angels when they sinned, but cast them into hell9 and committed them to pits of nether gloom to be kept until the judgement.’ Jude 6 states that ‘the angels that did not keep their own position but left their proper dwelling have been kept by him in eternal chains in the nether gloom10 until the judgement of the great day.’ Many scholars have interpreted the serpent in Genesis 3 symbolically, noting that it is a well-known symbol of evil in the ancient Near East (Longman 2017). However, it should be noted that a symbolic interpretation by itself does not imply that it is not regarded by the Biblical author as something real. For example, a country’s flag is a symbol, but it is also something real (Walton 2015, pp. 116, 226). Therefore, the fact that the serpent is a well-known symbol of evil in the ancient Near East does not exclude the possibility that the author of Genesis intended to write about a literal serpent which was also symbolic of evil. On the other hand, one should not assume that all the details in the early chapters of Genesis are literal. For example, Collins (2018, section 7.A.2) comments that ‘eat dust’ (3:14) when used of the snake: would probably not have evoked the snake’s diet; we have to suppose that at least some Israelites had seen them eating rodents, lizards, or other snakes. The expression conveys, then, not a diet, but humiliation and defeat (Mic. 7:17; Isa. 49:23; Ps. 72:9). Likewise, to ‘go on the belly’ (also in 3:14) may refer to travel in some contexts (Lev 11:42), but in this heightened speech is better suited to describe the cringing of a beaten foe. Many have regarded the talking snake in Genesis 3 as a feature of fairy tales in which animals talk. However, Collins (2011, p. 12) observes that the only other example of a talking animal in a Biblical narrative (Balaam’s donkey in Numbers

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22) attributes that speech to some kind of interference with the animal’s proper nature. Unlike fairy tales, the Biblical author(s) did not portray a world in which donkeys naturally speak, but says that the Lord ‘opened the mouth of the donkey,’ which is what enabled it to speak (Numbers 22:28). Given this observation and the portrayal of the serpent’s knowledge and motivation in Genesis 2 (e.g. urging disobedience to God’s solemn command, implying that God is a liar, and insinuating that God’s motives cannot be trusted), it is reasonable to conclude that the Biblical author(s) intended to convey that the snake talked as a result of some kind of interference by an evil personal agent which the Jewish and New Testament tradition (e.g., Wisdom of Solomon 1:13; 2:24; John 8:44; Revelation 12:9; 20:2) identifies as ‘Satan’ or ‘the devil.’ Collins (2011) notes: to deny this by insisting that Genesis never mentions the Evil One is actually a poor reading, because it fails to appreciate that biblical narrators generally prefer the laconic ‘showing’ to the more explicit ‘telling,’ leaving the readers to draw the right inferences from the words and actions recorded. If we read the story poorly like this, we will miss a crucial part of the story. (p. 12) In the Old Testament, there are three instances in which the noun Satan is frequently taken as a reference to a celestial adversary of God: Job 1–2 and Zechariah 3 mention hasatan (Satan with the article), and 1 Chronicles 21:1: ‘Then Satan [satan without the article] stood up against Israel and moved David to number Israel.’ It has been argued that hasatan (satan with the article) in Job 1–2 and Zechariah 3 is not the ‘Satan’ of later Christian theology because the definite article is present and thus it is not a personal name (unlike the mention of satan in 1 Chronicles 21), and thus should be translated as ‘the accuser’ or ‘the adversary’ (Brinks 2013, p. 372). However, this conclusion is too hasty. On the one hand, the use of the article might only indicate that, at the time of writing, satan was not a proper name; it does not exclude the possibility that it is the same angelic being as the ‘Satan’ of later Christian theology and that the use of the definite article merely emphasized the role it plays (i.e. the accuser) (Peckham 2018, p. 78). On the other hand, it is noteworthy that the ancient Septuagint translation ‘consistently translates hasatan as diabolos with the article, which always refers to the devil in the NT’ (p. 78). Moreover, the Book of Job depicts hasatan as one who makes false accusations against God and his servant (questioning God’s positive evaluation of Job’s character) and who has the power to bring about calamity, which strikingly corresponds to the profile of Satan in the NT (pp. 80–1). Thus, it is likely that ‘we see here [in Job] the role of one who was later to become Satan as we know him’ (Wilson 2015, p. 32) (concerning the biblical references to the devil, see further, Peckham 2018). Commenting on the Parable of the Tares and Wheat (Matthew 13:24–30), Peckham (2018, p. 56) writes that the ‘devil-sown evil is temporarily allowed because to prematurely uproot evil (tares) would result in irreversible collateral damage to the good (wheat).’ However, the sowing of evil was not necessary in the first place, but was permitted for the sake of allowing the exercise of creaturely free will.

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Some might object that such possible explanations are implausible and ad hoc because (they think) there is no evidence for demons (Oppy 2017, p. 56), and the accounts for them in the Bible should be regarded as purely mythological. However, given that the issue of suffering is raised as an argument against the existence of a perfect God, it is the objector who bears the burden of proof to rule out this possibility which, by the way, is not ad hoc given that it is traditionally found in many versions of theism and given that many people throughout history have claimed to have had encounters with demons. On the other hand, an article published in the peer-reviewed Journal of Religion and Health argues that there have been increasing evidences of demon possession (see Betty 2005 and the sources cited).11 Betty clarifies that by ‘evil’ or ‘demonic spirits’ he means: more or less intelligent beings, insensible to us, with a will of their own who seem to bother or oppress us or, in rare cases, possess our bodies outright, and with whom we can relate in a variety of ways. (p. 14) He notes that ‘evidence of evil spirits is voluminous and comes from many cultures, both ancient and modern’ (Betty 2005, p. 13). He considers the actual experiences of spirit victims, the superhuman phenomena associated with ‘possession,’ and the comparative success of deliverance and exorcism vs. psychiatry, and concludes that the materialist assumption that mental illness is strictly a matter of an aberrant brain is unwarranted (p. 28). In his book God and Other Spirits, Philip Wiebe carefully documents many reports of exorcism, and argues that: finding that people regain their sight or hearing or mental wholeness after an exorcism in which evil spirits are commanded to leave a person, as though those spirits were causally responsible for producing the malady, adds credence to the claim that spirits might exist. (Wiebe 2004, p. 39) Peckham observes it does not seem at all surprising that Satan and his cohorts: would remain hidden in contexts where most people believe they do not exist, while manifesting themselves in other contexts where there are widespread beliefs about and reports of supernatural activity. As the French poet Charles Baudelaire once put it, ‘the neatest trick of the devil is to persuade you that he does not exist.’ (Peckham 2018, p. 154) One might ask about the good (unfallen) angels who would not share in this trickery; why do they not make their battles with the evil angels more obvious (Dunnington 2018, p. 272)? One can ask the same question about God too. The

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reply concerning the reasons for divine hiddenness (see Chapter 7) is also available for explaining the hiddenness of good angels who do his will. Even if one rejects Betty’s arguments and insists that there is no direct evidence for demons, others might argue that there is indirect evidence in that the existence of demons is part of a Christian worldview which is well-supported evidentially with regards to its foundational claims (e.g. with respect to the existence of a Creator God and the deity of Christ; see Loke 2017a; 2017b). As Lloyd (1998, p. 160) explains: Landau’s assertions about neutron stars are a case in point; they were not verified evidentially until Jocelyn Bell discovered one in 1967, but remained a perfectly valid hypothesis throughout the intervening period. Similarly, the hypothetical assertion that natural evil is the result of the distortion of creation brought about by the angelic Fall does not need evidential support at this precise point if it can be shown that it is organically related to a world-view which is coherent and carries evidential support at other key points. It has been asked ‘why God should freely choose to create a cosmos in which the Devil and other evil beings produce such immeasurable suffering’ (Russell 1990, p. 300). Noting that some theists have suggested the possibility that the freedom of fallen angels might account for the suffering that other animals have experienced for at least the past 200 million years, Oppy (2017, p. 56) asks: Could the freedom of demons and other malevolent supernatural beings really be worth that much? We have laws which make provision for the imprisonment of people who are found guilty of inflicting pain and suffering upon other animals. That is, we are prepared to take away from people their freedom to inflict pain and suffering on other animals rather than to allow them to go on inflicting pain and suffering on other animals. Now, as explained previously in Chapter 2, the burden of proof is on the atheist to deny that the moral freedom of certain creatures is worth that much. If one thinks there could be reasons for God to permit the damage done through human libertarian free will, ‘it seems crassly anthropomorphic to deny the availability of such reasons for damage done through angelic freedom’ (Dunnington 2018, p. 268). Moreover, for all we know, given that God knows that humans would freely choose to sin, it might be that ‘had God chosen to not create the devil solely because the devil would exercise his freedom against God’s desires, then the kind of creaturely freedom necessary for the flourishing of love would be compromised’ (Peckham 2018, p. 143). Scripture does say that God will eventually take away from fallen angels their freedom to inflict pain and suffering on other creatures; in particular, the devil will be imprisoned in hell forever (Revelation 20:10). However, for all we know, allowing fallen angels to exercise their freedom temporarily during this dispensation might be necessary for the flourishing of love, not only for humans but

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also for other angels (e.g. the unfallen ones). This does not mean that the evil caused by the devil is necessary per se. Rather, the point is it might be necessary given that free creatures would freely choose to sin. The account defended in this book agrees with Peckham (2018) that: things would be better had no evil ever occurred. Whereas the possibility of evil is necessary for the flourishing of love, the actualization of evil is not. God can bring good out of some evils and appears to permit some instances because there is no preferable alternative available (e.g., Gen. 50:20) … However, this possibility does not entail that every instance of evil brings about some greater good that could not have been achieved without it. (p. 168)

3.8 Conclusion Sin is an offence against a personal holy God, whether intentional or unintentional. Scriptural passages which portray a state of bondage to sin (e.g. Romans 7:17) do not exclude the possibility that this bondage may have resulted from earlier libertarian free choices for which the person is responsible; and thus they do not support theological compatibilism. Libertarian freedom does not require that free creatures could have done otherwise for every act done of their own free wills, but it does require that they could have done otherwise with respect to some acts in their past life histories by which they formed their present characters, by which some acts would then be determined (Kane 2007, pp. 14–15). Using the distinction between the desirative will and permissive will of God, the ‘Middle Knowledge’ account of divine providence, and the Libertarian account of creaturely freedom, I have argued that God did not create evil. In reply to Augustine’s claim that the primal sin is inexplicable (Couenhoven 2016), I have argued that God created free creatures for which it is natural (and not an evil) that they have desires for good things. However, a creature with libertarian freedom may freely choose to regard these good things and its own self-interest to be more important than God himself, and hence freely chose to reject God and brought about the origination of evil. Even though God is the cause of free creatures, God is not the cause of their moral evil choices; rather, given libertarian freedom these free creatures are the ‘first causes’ of their evil choices, hence they are responsible for them. I also reply to Ekstrom’s (2021) objection to the necessity of libertarian freedom for love by showing that she misses the point about the interpersonal dimension and fails to exclude the claim that libertarian freedom is necessary for personhood. Moreover, I show that her view implies that the actions of Mother Teresa would not deserve praise, nor the actions of Adolf Hitler deserve blame. This constitutes a reductio ad absurdum of her view. It has been argued that the future state of the saints in heaven could be such that their moral character would have been formed to such an extent that they would not do evil (Pawl and Timpe 2009). However, God does not create free creatures with such a moral character initially because it is important for the

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moral value of free creatures that they are ultimately responsible for their characters which are the results of their earlier free choices (Choo and Goh 2019, pp. 39–40). Thus at the initial stages of free creatures they could have freely chosen to gratify certain desires and to disregard certain reasons, and therefore freely chosen to disobey God even if they had known that it was an irrational thing to do (see further, Chapters 5 and 6). Against Plantinga’s Cosmic Conflict Theodicy which proposes that the Angelic Fall preceded the Human Fall and that certain evils could have been caused by fallen angels (i.e. demons), critics object that such possible explanations are implausible and ad hoc because (they think) there is no evidence for demons (Oppy 2017, p. 56). However, both Plantinga and his critics have ignored peerreviewed academic publications which argues that there have been evidences of demon possession (see Betty 2005; Wiebe 2004 and the sources cited). Even if one rejects Betty’s arguments and insists that there is no direct evidence for demons, others might argue that there is indirect evidence in that the existence of demons is part of a Christian worldview which is well-supported evidentially with regards to its foundational claims (Loke 2017a; 2017b; 2020a). Having defended the traditional Christian account of the origin of evil and sin against various objections, I shall discuss the evils in pre-human history in the next chapter.

Notes 1 Also if one person sins unintentionally, then he shall offer a one year old female goat for a sin offering. The priest shall make atonement before the LORD for the person who goes astray when he sins unintentionally, making atonement for him that he may be forgiven. You shall have one law for him who does anything unintentionally, for him who is native among the sons of Israel and for the alien who sojourns among them. But the person who does anything defiantly, whether he is native or an alien, that one is blaspheming the LORD; and that person shall be cut off from among his people. Because he has despised the word of the LORD and has broken His commandment, that person shall be completely cut off; his guilt will be on him. 2 Lim refers to the overview of the current literature on the doing-allowing distinction and its moral status in Woollard (2012a; 2012b). 3 For a survey of these different analyses, see Beebee, Hitchcock, and Menzies (2009). They noted a number of reasons for the lack of agreement among philosophers, such as a vast range of theories and counterexamples, the fact that philosophical theories of causation are hostage to developments in the sciences, the concept of causation is used in many different contexts, and the fact that one’s choice of theory of causation can have radical consequences for other areas of philosophy (pp. 1–2). 4 In personal correspondence, McFarland says that Compatibilism is: most profitably used to speak of a particular position within modern (generally strongly materialist) philosophy. As such, it does not strike me as apt for Augustinians, whose primary interest is in human beings’ relationships with an all-loving God (e.g. the fact that Edwards is—rightly or wrongly—often viewed as an

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Occasionalist seems to me a strong reason to avoid casting him in the same metaphysical basket as a materialist like Hobbes).

5 6 7 8

In response, although it is true that individuals like Hobbes and Edwards differ widely with regards to their views of the causal agent (Hobbes being a materialist whereas Edwards emphasizes the role of God) as well as their primary interests, based on the definition of Compatibilism they can be classified together as Compatibilist insofar as they held the view that determinism is compatible with free will; materialism is not essential to the definition of Compatibilism. Some philosophers have argued that the requirement of alternative possibilities is not necessary in view of Frankfurt’s counterexamples (Frankfurt 1969, pp. 829–39). For rebuttal, see Lowe (2008, p. 196). Wainwright (2001) also attempts to show this; for a response, see Chapter 8. Note that on my view God has libertarian freedom, even though (as I have argued in Chapter 2) he does not need to possess the freedom to choose good or evil in order to be morally valuable. Old Testament scholar Richard Averbeck (2020) argues that: Genesis 3:15b would have been a ‘proto-evangelion’ even to the ancient Israelites. They knew this was not just a snake story. The serpent, also known as Leviathan in the OT (see, e.g., Ps 74:13–17 and Isa 27:1) … has close parallels with the Ugaritic Baal myth in which Baal, the good god, did battle with the evil serpent, Leviathan.

9 The word translated as ‘cast into hell’ is: the Greek verb tartaroun, which is almost unexampled elsewhere, comes from the proper noun ‘Tartarus,’ the name in classical mythology for the subterranean abyss in which rebellious gods, nefarious human beings, etc., were punished. There is no need, however (see on Jud. 6b), to detect anything beyond an indirect and indeed remote influence of Greek literature in its use, for the noun and its associations had become fully acclimatized in Hellenistic Judaism (e.g. LXX Job xli. 24; i En. xx. 2; Philo, Exsecr. 152; Josephus, C. Ap. ii. 240—an allusion to the Titans being chained in Tartarus) … Neither pits nor the verb casting into hell entails that the location of their prison was underground (see on Jud. 6); indeed it is more likely to have been conceived of as the second heaven. (Kelly 1981, p. 331) 10 That is, reserved for judgement; it does not imply that they are totally bound now. 11 Johnson (2017) argues that justified belief in demons is in principle impossible. For rebuttal, see Guthrie (2018, pp. 120–2) who argues that Johnson’s argument begs the question at certain points and demonstrates the need to consider the evidences.

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Evolutionary evils

4.1 An exposition of the problem Many people are troubled by the problem of evil associated with the evolutionary process. Indeed this was Darwin’s own objection. As he wrote to Hooker: ‘what a book a devil’s chaplain might write on the clumsy, wasteful, blundering, low and horribly cruel work of nature!’ (Darwin 1990, p. 178). In another letter to Asa Gray he wrote, ‘I cannot persuade myself that a beneficent and omnipotent God would have designedly created the contrivances of parasitoids for consuming their hosts alive’ (Darwin 1993, p. 224). In our day atheists such as Quentin Smith (1991, p. 159) have argued that ‘the natural law that animals must savagely kill and devour each other in order to survive was an evil natural law and that the obtaining of this law was sufficient evidence that God did not exist.’ Ross (2011) replies that: carnivores appear to be optimally designed to maximally benefit the health and population levels of the herbivores they prey upon by selectively weeding out the sick and the dying. In fact, carnivores appear to be optimally designed to benefit all life-forms, including human beings. Objectors might ask why can’t God have achieved these benefits in a way that does not involve so much suffering, extinction (resulting in loss of value of the biosphere), and the discarding of the weak creatures which did not have a chance to live fulfilling lives (Southgate 2008, pp. 40–5), and in a way that is less clumsy, wasteful, and blundering? Concerning the symbiosis view that the predatory activity of cheetahs enhances the overall fitness of the gazelle population, McFarland (2014, p. 157) objects that: this does not help the situation of any particular gazelle that happens to be eaten, nor of the human being struck down by a fatal disease. And there are still other natural events (volcanism, climate fluctuation, bolide impacts) that can provide a dramatic check to the flourishing of all living creatures in a particular area. DOI: 10.4324/9781003265689-4

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Nietzsche (1924, §7) argues that natural selection is contrary to Christianity as a religion of compassion; the latter ‘preserves whatever is ripe for destruction; it fights on the side of those disinherited and condemned by life.’ Some have replied that Darwinian evolution with its pain, suffering, death, and extinction was the only way in which God could bring about the sort of beauty, diversity, sentience, and sophistication of creatures that the biosphere now contains (Southgate 2008). Others (e.g. Russell 2008) find this ‘only way’ argument implausible given the omnipotence of God, who could have created a universe with different laws and constants. There is no logical impossibility involved in creating a universe with different laws and constants. Some might respond to the problem of animal suffering by arguing that animals are amoral, but: this does not in itself excuse the question of why a good and all-loving God would create a world in which harms occur, nor why a God would allow suffering and death to be intrinsic to the process of development. Even if creatures are amoral, God should still be expected to act in moral ways in respect of them. (Sollereder 2018, p. 63) The objection concerns the problem of evil and suffering which is a philosophical and theological issue rather than a scientific one, and thus it has to be addressed using philosophical and theological arguments.

4.2 A brief theology of animals To begin, it would be helpful to consider the Big Picture concerning non-human living things. There are some advocates of Eastern religious views on ecology who would argue that eating meat is morally wrong because it would result in killing of animals and causing suffering. Some would go on and argue for the equal love of all living things including plants, affirming the Buddhist doctrine of the Buddha-nature of trees and other living things, and take this to imply that we should take care of these living things and that we should not harm them. It is indeed important to protect our ecosystem. However, an overvaluation of the lives of non-human creatures can lead to absurd consequences. For example, it would imply that we should not harm trees by cutting them for paper (including the printing of this book), and that we should not harm plants or animals by killing them for food (if so, what shall we eat?). It would imply not killing pests or bacteria, and that we should take care of malaria-bearing mosquitoes and not harm them when they bite us because they have potential for Buddhahood. If the advocate of Eastern religious views denies this absurd consequence by saying, ‘we should kill pests because they are causing us harm,’ on what basis should we privilege our survival over theirs? Santmire (2000, p. 73), for example, regards other living things as ‘member[s] of my own extended family.’ Is it wrong therefore to privilege the survival of my one uncle over the survival of millions of other family members (bacteria) by boiling water for him to drink? If it is not wrong, why not?

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The key issue is what priority should be given to environmental protection, and what should be the basis of our judgement of moral values and obligations. As others have argued elsewhere using the Moral Argument for the existence of God (e.g. Baggett and Walls 2016), without God as the ontological basis of morality (the moral ‘ought’) and creating human beings in his image, there is no adequate basis for the moral ‘ought’ that would avoid those absurd conclusions. To understand what is the value and meaning of life for those non-human creatures, one would need to consider the Creator’s perspective. Christian theologians would argue that the Creator has revealed in the Scripture that humans are created in the image of God, but those non-human creatures are not. In many respects those non-human creatures exist for the sake of humans (their higher purpose of existence)—to be appreciated by humans, helping to farm, providing food, and as a form of challenge and testing for humans to subdue (e.g. pests, cf. Genesis 1:27–28). They are regarded as property of humans, thus when humans sin they would be affected too. This does not mean that God does not care for animals; on the contrary, Scripture affirms that God cares for animals (Jonah 4:11) and we should too. Rather, Scripture affirms that humans are more valuable than animals in God’s sight, and thus animals can be eaten and sacrificed for human benefit. Critics have objected that animal sacrifices are ‘violence, vengeance, and victimage’ against animals (Hamerton-Kelly 1994, pp. 18–19). However, they fail to note that, if people do not kill animals for food or (in the Old Testament) for sacrifice (most parts of which were actually eaten), the animals would still die one day, perhaps as the result of greater suffering and violence—compared to the relatively less painful way by which the Jews sacrifice animals. (There are also ways to farm animals and kill animals with minimal suffering.) Note that the foregoing argument does not justify the painless killing of other humans (unless they have forfeited their right to live, e.g. by committing murder), because one does not have such a right over other humans who are created in the image of God (Genesis 9:6), and the meaning of life for humans is different from that of animals. Meat eating (and sacrifice) is portrayed in Scripture as something that is morally permissible for people living in the present Fallen World to do; the localized state in the Garden of Eden as portrayed in Genesis 1–2 and the final state in Isaiah 11 (‘the lion will eat straw like the ox’) are portrayed in terms of unrestricted vegetarianism: Meat eating … is … God’s so-to-speak second best, a divine concession. The best situation, the one at our origin and at our destination, is one where we do not kill each other, animals do not kill each other, and we do not kill animals for meat. (Hare 2011, pp. 122–3) In those situations there is no animal death, so the argument ‘if we don’t kill animals for food, they would still die one day’ does not apply. From a theological perspective, the present state of animal death is an indication that the world is

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fallen due to human sin and also (as I shall argue in Section 4.7) due to prehuman (angelic) sin, nevertheless there is hope of eternal life for these animals too (see Section 4.10). On the basis of Scriptural passages such as Isaiah 11:6–7 (‘the lion will eat straw like the ox’), 65:25, and Romans 8:19–22, a number of theologians such as Wesley, Calvin, and Luther have held that God has graciously provided an afterlife for animals where there is no more suffering. Traditional Christian theology has therefore held that it is not morally wrong to kill animals for food (although it is not morally wrong to be a vegetarian either). Neither is it morally wrong to kill animals for sacrifice (as commanded by God in the OT), since much of the animals which were sacrificed was actually eaten as food. Moreover, the killing of the animals for sin sacrifice serves the pedagogy (using methods which ritualistic people during that era would understand) of pointing to the serious consequences of sin, as illustrated by the death of the animal which is seen as part of the household of the person offering the atoning sacrifice (Hare 2011, pp. 126–7). It also points to the need for propitiation which (from the perspective of the New Testament) is ultimately fulfilled by Christ (e.g. Hebrews 10:1–10; for defence of penal substitutionary accounts of atonement against objections, see Craig 2018). Whereas some Scriptural passages seem to portray the sacrifices as God’s food (Leviticus 3:11) and a sweet savour to God (e.g. Leviticus 1:9), the literal meaning of God eating the sacrifice is denied in other passages (e.g. Psalm 50:13) (Hare 2011, p. 130). The portrayal of food and savour can be understood not literally but metaphorically as referring to God being pleased by the sacrifice which satisfies the demands of justice. The true meaning of sacrifice lies in the contrite attitude of the sinner sacrificing the animal, as Psalm 51:16–17 says of God, ‘You do not want me to bring sacrifices; you do not desire burnt offerings; True sacrifice to God is a contrite spirit; God, you will not despise a contrite and crushed heart’ (NJPS; italics mine).

4.3 Concerning the goodness of creation Evangelical theologian Wayne Grudem (2009) argues that the view that suffering and death occurred before Adam is incompatible with belief in the goodness of God’s original creation and the belief that suffering and death are the result of sin. Young Earth Creationists (YECs) argue that the existence of animal suffering and death before human sin contradicts the Bible which declares that the initial creation was very good (Ham 2017). In reply, Romans 5:12 can be understood as referring to human death rather than death in all other creatures, hence this verse does not exclude the possibility that creaturely death could have occurred prior to humans. McFarland (2014, p. 77) notes that: Although death has most often been viewed in Christian tradition as a punishment for Adam’s transgression, Genesis 3:19, 22 (cf. 6:3) may also be read as teaching that humans (and by extension, other earth creatures) naturally return to the dust from which they were taken unless some other factor intervenes (see Gen. 2:7, 17; Ps. 103:13–16; Eccl. 3:19–20).

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Old Testament scholar Iain Provan notes that in Genesis God declares that creation is ‘very good’ but that does not mean ‘perfect’ (Provan 2014, p. 283). A perfect God does not have to create a perfect world (e.g. with all creatures having 100% efficient body parts); it depends on his purposes for creating. As argued in Chapter 3, given that it is important for the moral value of free creatures that they are ultimately responsible for their characters which are the results of their earlier free choices, God does not create free creatures with perfect moral characters initially. Rather, God created free creatures with the capacity to grow towards perfection. It can be argued that God created the world that fits with this purpose, a world which is capable of being improved upon. As Harris (2013, p. 160) suggests using ‘an Irenaean theodicy,’ ‘the original creation was never “good” in the sense of perfect, but “good” in the sense of “fit for purpose”, and ready to grow towards perfection in the eschatological future.’ ‘Christ completes creation and brings about perfection by first experiencing its imperfect “shadow side” (i.e. death), and then by passing through it into a new kind of eschatological life where there is no shadow side’ (p. 156). The idea of growth and progress can also be seen in Wiker and Witt’s (2006, p. 245) remark that: the universe is crafted to condescend to our capacities as a teacher to a student and to draw us patiently upward; and the superabundance of intelligibility is a sign that it was made by a mind that far exceeds the merely human. In answer to the question whether Genesis 1:30 implies that all creatures were vegetarians, Genesis 1:30 may be referring only to creatures in the localized Garden of Eden rather than creatures on the entire earth. As Gavin McGrath explains: Because the reference to vegetarian animals is placed after the focus on the creation of humans (Gen. 1:26–30), rather than after the focus on the animals (Gen. 1:20–25), I think this lends itself to the interpretation that these vegetarian animals are those of the humans’ world, i.e., Eden and its environs, rather than the larger planetary world. But since Gen. 1 generally refers to the planetary world, and in this immediate passage reference is made to humankind’s dominion ‘over all the earth,’ Gen. 1:30 also indicates God’s future plan to expand Eden and its environs to cover the planet. (McGrath 1997) Indeed, the view that the detail of vegetarianism in Genesis 1:30 is not intended to convey a ‘worldwide phenomenon’ fits better with other Scriptural texts which indicate that carnivores such as ‘the young lions [which] roar after their prey and seek their food from God’ were made ‘in wisdom’ by God (Psalm 104:21, 24; see also Job 38–42), rather than as a result of the curse of Genesis 3 as YECs think.1 It is noteworthy that both Augustine and Aquinas (Summa Theologica 1.96.1: ‘For the nature of animals was not changed by man’s sin’) did not think that carnivores resulted from human sin, rather they thought that predation already existed before the human fall, since ‘one animal is the nourishment for another’ (Augustine, Literal Meaning of Genesis, I:3:16).

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Gavin McGrath (1997) proposes that in the Garden of Eden the lions were of a different nature compared to those outside of the Garden, which existed earlier. Just as God can miraculously cause the lions in the future messianic kingdom not to eat meat (Isaiah 11:7), God can also miraculously cause the lions in the original Garden of Eden to be vegetarians. McGrath explains: In the first Eden and its environs, death was unknown (Gen. 2:17), humans were vegetarians (Gen. 1:29), and so were the animals (Gen. 1:30). Likewise in the second Eden, ‘they shall not hurt nor destroy in all my holy mountain’ (Isa. 11:9). Therefore, in both the first and second Edens, the lamb and lion lay down together, for God also gave the animals in the first Eden and its environs the same nature they will have after the Second Coming (Isa. 11:6,7). But on my model, this was not so outside Eden and its environs. In other words, there was already animal death outside the Garden before the Fall. Alexander (2014, p. 341) warns that: we should be careful not to imagine the pre-fallen world as if it were already the new earth that God has planned for the redeemed, where there will be no more death or suffering—this would be a kind of reverse eschatology. Instead the present world was created as a good world, fit for God’s plan and purposes, looking forward to another good world to come, which will be good in a different and more complete sense. Ham (2007, p. 25) claims that the only thing declared ‘not good’ before the Fall was Adam being alone before God created Eve (Genesis 2:18), but he neglects God’s command to humans to subdue the earth in Genesis 1:28. As Jim Stump (2016, p. 150) observes, if everything is already perfect why does it need subduing? Stump further points out that, by charging humans to multiply and to subdue the earth before the account of the Fall: God seems to have delighted in creating the natural world in a state where there was still work to be done. We might say there was ‘non-order’ or incompleteness that humans were to work on bringing into alignment with God’s will. God must have reasons for wanting to partner with humanity in this work. (Stump 2016, p. 150) Walton (2015, p. 57) notes that the same description t.ôb mĕʾo-d (‘very good’) is used of the Promised Land in Numbers 14:7, though the land is filled with enemies and wicked inhabitants. Ham (2017, p. 43) objects that the animal death implied by the making of garments of skin in Genesis 3:21 could not have been a covering for the sin of Adam and Eve if deaths of animals already occurred before Adam’s Fall, but his conclusion does not follow. The postulation that death as a sacrifice is required for sin does not imply that all deaths are the result of sin.

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Mortenson (2012) objects that ‘nothing in the context warrants reading into “subdue it [the earth]” the idea that the creation had been filled with natural evil (death, disease, extinction, asteroid impacts, tsunamis, etc) for millions of years prior to man.’ However, it should be noted that I am not claiming that the text warrants this interpretation. Rather, what I am claiming is that ‘very good’ does not mean ‘perfect’ and that ‘subduing the earth’ indicates that there was a certain ‘non-order,’ which does not exclude the possibility of the presence of prior animal deaths. Therefore, what I am arguing here is not guilty of Concordism (see the discussion on the distinction between Tasks A and C in Chapter 5). YECs argue that Romans 8:19–23 implies that death and decay only started after Adam sinned. The text states: For the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the children of God; for the creation was subjected to futility, not of its own will but by the will of the one who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself will be set free from its bondage to decay and will obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God. We know that the whole creation has been groaning in labour pains until now; and not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the first fruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly while we wait for adoption, the redemption of our bodies. (NRSV) YECs interpret this text as saying that God was the one who subjected creation to futility and bondage to decay, and that this happened when God cursed the ground after Adam and Eve sinned (Genesis 3:17) (Smith 2007; Mortenson 2012; Ham 2017, p. 102). However, Ross (2017, p. 75) points out that Genesis 1 and 2 indicate that metabolism (e.g. the digestion of food) and human work predated human sin, and that these processes as well as the deaths of plants indicate that decay (a phenomenon of which the ancient people were well aware, and which we now know is due to the Second Law of Thermodynamics) is already present prior to Genesis 3:17. Moreover, the portrayal of creation groaning in labour pains in Romans 8:22 may well be connected with Jeremiah 4:23–31, which portrays the plight of the earth which resulted from the moral and spiritual failure of God’s people in the Old Testament (the Israelites) (Morledge 2015): I looked on the earth, and behold, it was without form and void; and to the heavens, and they had no light … For I heard a cry as of a woman in labor, anguish as of one giving birth to her first child, the cry of the daughter of Zion gasping for breath, stretching out her hands, ‘Woe is me! I am fainting before murderers.’ (Jeremiah 4:23, 31 ESV) The Hebrew words translated as ‘without form and void’ (i.e. to-hû wa-bo-hû) in Jeremiah 4:23 are the same words used in Genesis 1:2, which describes the state before the cursing of the ground in Genesis 3:17 (Morledge 2015).

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Thus, what the Biblical writers are trying to convey may well be this: creation was not created perfect, God subjected it to futility and bondage to decay, to be subdued by God’s people (this does not exclude a purpose for angels) who sadly failed to accomplish their mission due to their moral and spiritual failures. This brought death to the human race (Romans 5:12) and resulted in creation being left in a state of groaning, which will finally be liberated at the final redemption of God’s people.

4.4 Do non-human creatures truly suffer phenomenological pain? As noted earlier, since the issue of suffering is raised as an argument against the existence of a perfect God, the objector bears burden of proof. The theist only has to suggest possible and plausible solutions (without having to prove that any of these solutions are actual) in order to show that the objector has failed to prove his/her case. It is arguable that those creatures which do not have a nervous system do not suffer pain. Protective reaction to harmful stimuli does not necessarily involve pain, e.g. the snail withdraws into its shell when touched; arguably it does not involve pain, because it lacks the necessary neural complexity (Murray 2008, p. 62). Concerning the evolution of nervous systems, scientists observe that eukaryotic cells are able to convert external stimuli into membrane depolarization, which in turn triggers effector responses such as secretion and contraction (Brunet and Arendt 2016). It is hypothesized that this was subsequently adapted into neural electrical signalling in multicellular animals, with nerve nets in cnidaria (e. g. jellyfish) followed by nerve cords in bilateral animals (e.g. wormlike creatures with brains). During the Ordovician period 510–440 million years ago, the first vertebrates (creatures with a backbone and a nervous system concentrated at the head) which included early forms of fish evolved in the sea from wormlike ancestors (Christian 2011, pp. 123–4). Christian (2011) describes the evolution of vertebrates which first colonized the land in the late Devonian period as follows: Modern land vertebrates are still quite similar in their basic layout. All have four limbs, each with five digits even when, as in snakes, the limbs and digits have almost shriveled away. Such similarities suggest that all of them— amphibians, reptiles, birds, and mammals—are descended from the earliest colonizers of the land. The first amphibians evolved from fish that could breathe oxygen and whose fins could be used to move on land, like modern lungfish. However, amphibians have to lay their eggs in water, which normally confines them to seashores, rivers, or ponds. Reptiles evolved eggs with hard shells, just as trees evolved seeds with tough skins, so both types of organism can reproduce on dry land. The earliest reptiles appeared about 320 million years ago, during the Carboniferous era (360–290 million years ago). (p. 124) For those creatures which do have a nervous system, it could be the case that for many of them the nervous system would only cause them to have information

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concerning a harmful situation, and that unknown to us they do not truly suffer phenomenological pain (Murray 2008, pp. 41–72). Murray mentions cases of blindsight: patients with damage to the primary visual cortex of the brain report that they are blind, and yet they are able to navigate obstacles in their path by using their eyes. They have access to the existence of the obstacles through visual means (‘access consciousness’), but they are not aware that they have this access (i.e. they lack ‘phenomenal consciousness’). Against Murray, it might be argued that there is plenty of evidence that the signs (e.g. physiological and behavioural effects) of psychological distress that we associate with suffering are regularly present in non-human animals (Sollereder 2018, pp. 46, 82). However, Murray can reply that these signs can be understood as reactions to noxious stimuli, threats of harm, etc. The key question therefore is not whether animals can react to noxious stimuli etc. (they do!), but whether they ‘feel the pain.’ Sollereder (2018, p. 46) claims that ‘the evidence of non-human animals being “subjects-of-a-life” continue to increase,’ citing studies which define ‘subject-of-a-life’ as any organism capable of felt experience or sentient experience. Murray argues, however, that even if there is phenomenal consciousness of pain, in some cases this does not feel bad. Even if animals have a prefrontal cortex (PFC), the human PFC is completely different from every other type of organism. Indeed one recent survey of primate neuroanatomy describes the human PFC as ‘absolutely, obviously, and tremendously’ different (Rilling 2014, p. 48). If those differences (which are destroyed in a lobotomy) are what make negative-feeling-pain possible, then perhaps animals do not have such pain. Against this, Dougherty (2014, p. 81) cites pain theorists who identify pain as an ‘emotion-like’ state that relies on parts of the brain that are shared by humans with the rest of vertebrates, rather than a cognitive judgement dependent upon the neocortex. However, Murray (2008, pp. 41–72) mentions cases of ‘frontal lobotomy,’ where surgeons removed portions of the prefrontal cortex of patients. In some cases patients reported that they still felt the pain but that it ‘did not bother them’ any longer. Even if they have such pain, they may lack self-awareness. They may feel hurt and cry, but they are not aware of themselves feeling hurt. What if animal consciousness of pain were like that (e.g. when a deer is eaten by a lion)? Dougherty (2014, p. 76) replies to Murray by suggesting that: the common sense attribution of pain to animals plus the consensus of core (fairly non-ideological) animal welfare researchers—receive a benefit of the doubt and that skeptics—in this case, neo-Cartesians (whether philosophically or scientifically based)—bear a burden of proof. However, the issue of burden of proof depends on the nature of the dialectic in question. If we are considering how we should treat animals, I would agree with Sollereder (2018, p. 46) that, since neo-cartesianism cannot be conclusively proved or disproved:

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most people prefer to err on the side of greater compassion, giving the benefit of the doubt to the non-human animals … non-human animal pain responses are similar enough to human pain responses that it would damage one’s humanity to simply ignore them. However, if we are discussing whether purported animal suffering constitutes an evidence against the existence of God, then it is clearly the atheist who bears burden of proof to demonstrate that there is indeed morally significant suffering being experienced by the animals; not the theist to demonstrate that there is no such suffering. It should also be noted, however, that the theist does not have to be committed to the possibility of neo-cartesianism as if this were the only possibility to rebut the atheist position. As explained in the rest of this chapter, there are other possibilities which the theist can appeal to, and which the atheist would need to rule out in order for his/her argument to succeed. Moreover, Murray’s case is not merely possible, it has plausibility given the evidence of ‘frontal lobotomy’ explained already. On the other hand, although it seems common-sense to many people that similarities between certain animal behaviours and human behaviour indicate that some animals do have conscious experiences, non-conscious robots can also have similar behaviours to humans, but without conscious awareness of pain. Although experimental tests for selfawareness (e.g. mirror self-recognition) have been developed (e.g. Gallup 1970), the interpretation of mirror-oriented behaviour as indicating a human-like experience of mirror self-recognition remains disputed (Mitchell 2002; Rochat and Zahavi 2011). Allen and Trestman (2020) conclude that: there remains great uncertainty about the metaphysics of phenomenal consciousness and its precise relations to intentionality, to the brain, to behavior, etc. … it is safe to say that none of them seems secure enough to hang a decisive endorsement or denial of animal consciousness upon it. Against my previous use of the analogy of robots, one might cite Sollereder’s (2018, p. 46) concern that neo-cartesianism may lead to animal abuse, citing ‘shadows of seventeenth-century vivisectionists laughing about the pained cries of dogs as “mere creaking of the animal ‘clockwork’”.’ Similarly, Dougherty (2014, p. 95) objects that ‘if pain of which one was unaware were of no moral significance, then it would be permissible to torture the sleepwalker.’ However, their conclusion does not follow. First, neo-cartesianism is merely suggested as a possibility that is plausible but not proven. As I have explained already, I agree that, where treatment of animals is concerned, we should err on the side of caution. The point remains that we have very little understanding concerning whether there is an ‘inner world’ (subjectivity) of animals and, if so, how does it ‘feel-like’ to justifiably conclude that God had not graciously spared them from conscious awareness of pain. Second, torturing an animal or human with no good justification is a bad reflection on the torturer’s character even if the animal or human does not feel pain. As Craig (2011) explains:

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Evolutionary evils The ethical treatment of animals can be grounded in God’s commands to human beings to be good stewards of the Earth … Even with regard to animals which do not experience second-level pain, the theist can maintain that we should not needlessly impair or kill them. So while we may justifiably spray for mosquitoes to prevent the spread of disease, a person who found pleasure, say, in plucking the wings off flies just for the fun of it would be violating his God-given moral duties as to the kind of person he ought to become.

4.5 The possibility of afterlife for animals Even if animals do truly suffer phenomenological pain, it could be that these sufferings would ultimately work for the good of these creatures. For all we know, these creatures might enter into an afterlife, in which they might experience a state of eternal glory that would outweigh all the transient suffering they experience in this life. Given that the issue of suffering is raised as an argument against the existence of a perfect God, it is the objector who bears burden of proof to rule out this possibility; the theist does not need to bear the burden of proof to prove that such an afterlife for animals exists. Moreover, such a possibility is plausible given the evidence for the existence of a God who could create the universe and raise the dead (see Loke 2017a; 2020a). The postulation of an afterlife for animals has deep roots in the Christian theological tradition. John Wesley puts it this way: May it not answer another end; namely, furnish us with a full answer to a plausible objection against the justice of God, in suffering numberless creatures that never had sinned to be so severely punished? They could not sin, for they were not moral agents. Yet how severely do they suffer!—yea, many of them beasts of burden in particular, almost the whole time of their abode on earth; so that they can have no retribution here below. But the objection vanishes away if we consider that something better remains after death for these creatures also; that these likewise shall one day be delivered from this bondage of corruption, and shall then receive an ample amends for all their present sufferings. (Wesley 1998, p. 251) It is important to note that according to the Scriptures Christ’s death has the potential to reconcile all things to the Father (Colossians 1:20). Based on passages such as Isaiah 11:6–7 (‘the lion will eat straw like the ox’),2 65:25, and Romans 8:19–22, a number of theologians such as Wesley, John Calvin, and Martin Luther have held that other animals would be redeemed in the future (Murray 2008, pp. 122–9). These animals may well include those hominids which did not have the image of God (see Chapter 5).

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4.6 Connection Building Theodicy One might ask, ‘If God can make the world such that it would be devoid of animal suffering in the future, why doesn’t he do it here and now?’ This question is related to issues concerning the ultimate good. Christians might respond that the ultimate good for angels, humans, and other creatures with free will (see Section 4.8) is to have a love relationship with God and with one another, given which the wrong choices of free creatures would have detrimental consequences not only on themselves but on other creatures too. As Collins (2013, pp. 35–6) explains: We can glimpse a good reason for God to create a universe containing ECAs [embodied conscious agents] that are vulnerable to each other and to the environment: specifically, such vulnerable ECAs can affect each other for good or ill in deep ways. Besides being an intrinsic good, I argue that this ability to affect one another’s welfare allows for the possibility of eternal bonds of appreciation, contribution, and intimacy, which elsewhere I argue are of great value. Since moral evil and suffering will inevitably exist in a universe with such ECAs, I conclude that the existence of the combination of an ECA-structured universe and the type of evils we find in the world is not surprising under theism. Given that the wrong choices of free creatures would have detrimental consequences not only on themselves but on other creatures too, certain evolutionary evils may well have resulted from free decisions by angels (O’Halloran 2015; Lloyd 2018; Betty 2005) or non-human animals (Moritz 2014; Sollereder 2018, Chapter 4; cf. Lloyd 1998) which set the conditions for these evolutionary evils. I shall now discuss these possibilities in turn.

4.7 Cosmic Conflict Theodicy and pre-human suffering The plausibility of the Cosmic Conflict Theodicy has been explained in Chapter 3. Given God’s purposes of creating free creatures such as angels and humans who are supposed to be stewards over other parts of creation including animals, the free choices of creatures would affect the environment and other creatures. For all we know, the culpability for suffering and death before Adam could be traced to the moral wrongdoing of certain free creatures such as angels (Murray 2008, pp. 6, 96– 106). For example, it could be that angels who chose to sin (e.g. Satan) distorted God’s original creation by causing mutations and disasters (see p. 86) that resulted in suffering, but God worked good out of the evil they caused by using suffering and death to evolve higher-ordered life. This view does not compromise the sovereignty of God (contra Southgate 2017, p. 154); on the contrary, it highlights the sovereignty of God in allowing angels significant moral freedom (just as he allows humans significant moral freedom to cause suffering on others) and turning the evil they caused for good purposes (most evidently seen in the crucifixion of Jesus). This interpretation has been suggested earlier by C.S. Lewis, who writes:

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Evolutionary evils The origin of animal suffering could be traced, by earlier generations, to the Fall of man—the whole world was infected by the uncreating rebellion of Adam. This is now impossible, for we have good reason to believe that animals existed long before men. Carnivorousness, with all that it entails, is older than humanity. Now it is impossible at this point not to remember a certain sacred story which, though never included in the creeds, has been widely believed in the Church and seems to be implied in several Dominical, Pauline, and Johannine utterances—I mean the story that man was not the first creature to rebel against the Creator, but that some older and mightier being long since became apostate and is now the emperor of darkness and (significantly) the Lord of this world. (Lewis 1940, p. 137)

Various leading theologians have also argued similarly. For example, Wolfhart Pannenberg (1994, p. 274): As distinct from the finitude of creaturely existence, death is part of God’s creation only in connection with sin. The Wisdom of Solomon says categorically that God did not create death (1:13). Theology, of course, must recognize something analogous to death throughout creation, for all living things stand under the burden of corruptibility (Rom. 8:20 ff.). Like human sin, the link between sin and death has a prehuman history. In this history a demonic dynamic seems to have developed that culminates in human sin and the dominion of sin and death over humanity. Likewise, with regards to the ‘excesses’ of suffering, Von Balthasar (1994, pp. 197–8) refers to the original Fall of the ‘prince’ and ‘ruler’ of this world, the ‘principalities and powers’ of which Paul speaks, the ‘god of this world.’ It should be noted that Genesis 1–3 is not intended to be a complete record of everything about creation. Genesis 1:2 hints that something was not perfect prior to creation of humans. Other Scriptural passages indicate that there have been cosmic battles going on between good and evil angels which can affect the history of the world (e.g. Daniel 10:13). There exists a ‘god of this world’ whom the course of this world follows, who is a spirit and the ruler of the power of the air, and who actively opposes the purposes of the true God (2 Corinthians 4:4; Ephesians 2:2). Satan is capable of inflicting suffering on God’s creatures (Job 1). Young Earth creationists regard animal suffering as a result of human sin; theistic evolutionists can likewise regard animal suffering prior to humans as the result of angelic sin. It is noteworthy that Adam and angels are both called ‘son of God’ in the Scripture (Luke 3:38; Job 38:6–7), indicating their special relationships to God. Peckham (2018, p. 102) notes that: Although God is sovereign, throughout Scripture God consistently allows some shared governance, particularly evidenced in the heavenly council. For example, regarding the judgment against Nebuchadnezzar, Daniel 4:17 states,

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‘This sentence is by the decree of the angelic watchers, and the decision is a command of the holy ones.’ Other passages in the Old Testament also mention heavenly beings (‘gods’) as those who governed particular people groups (Deuteronomy 32:8–9), and condemn those heavenly beings who deliver unjust verdicts and spread violence in the earth through human agents (Psalm 58:1–2; 82:1–4) (Ansberry 2016, pp. 50–1). In response to Draper’s claim that the amount of suffering we see is not what we would expect on theism (see Chapter 2), Peckham (2018, pp. 153–4) argues that, given the Cosmic Conflict and rules-of-engagement framework which he has explained: wherein demonic agents work to increase the pain and suffering of God’s creatures as much as they can (directly and indirectly), one would expect an enormous amount of suffering. As Rice puts it, ‘If the universe is populated by a host of beings opposed to God and bent on wreaking death and destruction, it is hardly surprising that we suffer; it would be surprising if we didn’t.’ Against the Cosmic Conflict Theodicy, Tooley (2019, p. 16) objects that: We have extremely well-confirmed scientific accounts of the evolutionary origin of predatory animals and of their behavior, and, similarly, of the causes of natural disasters and of the existence of disease-causing organisms, such as bacteria and viruses, and those accounts do not involve any references to activity on the part of moral agents, supernatural or otherwise. However, Tooley fails to note that other scholars have responded by suggesting that events in the cosmic conflict could have introduced the initial (and scientifically undetectable) perturbations (cf. ‘butterfly effect’) into the dynamical situations which God had created in equilibrium, ‘and continued activity of the demonic horde could, over the history of the world, continue to perturb chaos systems as part of their ongoing campaign against the establishment of the kingdom of God’ (DeWeese 2013, p. 63): This does not mean that, for instance, an earthquake or a thunderstorm is due directly to satanic action. It is because of purely natural causes, but these causes are what they now are owing to the deep-set disorder in the heart of nature resulting from the ‘action of fallen spirits.’ (Plantinga 2004, p.16 n22, citing Dom Bruno Well)3 Alternatively, others have pointed out that the devil could have acted in physically imperceptible ways at a quantum level (Dunnington 2018, p. 273). As explained earlier, given that God created free creatures such as angels and humans to love other creatures, their right choices would have a beneficial effect

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on the rest of creation, whereas their wrong choices would have a bad effect for which they would be held responsible. For example, human misuse of the earth’s resources and mismanagement of the environment would lead to ecological disasters such as global warming resulting in forest fires killing deer and other creatures. Likewise, angelic sin could have introduced the initial (and scientifically undetectable) perturbations (cf. ‘butterfly effect’) which resulted in such disasters in evolutionary history before human beings. This brought about extinctions (with the loss of biosphere), excesses of suffering, and blundering mutations leading to the evolution of certain species which manifest ugliness and cruelty, such as the case of parasitoids which consume their hosts alive that Darwin mentioned. Sceptics and YECs often ask why would God create so many amazing creatures such as dinosaurs and cause them to go extinct before humans could appreciate them and rule over them (Ham 2017, p. 22)? In reply, first, the assumption that every creature including dinosaurs exists for the sake of humans can be challenged; one might affirm the possibility that at least some of these creatures might be valuable independently of humans (Sterba 2020). The value of their existence in history is not denied by their extinction just as the fact that other creatures (including humans) die does not imply that their existence has no value, regardless of whether they go extinct or not. Objections concerning the suffering of billions of creatures over a long evolutionary history often ignore the fact that, with the increased length of history, not only does the amount of suffering increase, but the amount of pleasure as well (Kojonen 2021). Second, the objection neglects the possibility (hinted in Scripture) that, although humans are created to rule over other creatures, prior to the creation of humans parts of creation might have been created for appreciation by angels; see, for example, the portrayal of the angels’ shouting for joy at God’s creation in Job 38:6–7. Disobedient angels, however, would be motivated to destroy God’s works rather than appreciate them. With respect to Task C (see Chapter 5), evolutionary creationists might suggest the possibility that certain blundering mutations and disasters were caused by the destructive work of Satan, but God works things out for good. That is, despite the disasters, creation as a whole evolved into all kinds of beautiful and amazing creatures including human beings.4 This possibility is compatible with the scientific hypothesis that dinosaurs became extinct because of an asteroid hitting the earth. There can be different levels of explanations: scientific and personal. For example, if one discovers a kettle boiling in the kitchen, one can explain it at the scientific level, i.e. in terms of conduction of heat to the water molecules, and one can explain it at a personal level, for example, his/her spouse set up the kettle to boil him/her a cup of tea (Swinburne 2004, pp. 32–48). These two explanations do not contradict one another. Likewise, postulating that an asteroid hit the earth does not exclude the possibility that the event was set up by a fallen angel to destroy life forms on earth. Against Lewis’s suggestion, Sollereder (2017) objects that ‘carnivorousness, which Lewis wants to attribute to Satan, is an essential piece of evolutionary development.’ Sollereder considers the response that God turned the evil

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intentions of Satan in causing predation into something good (cf. Genesis 50:20). She objects that this goes against Lewis’s own understanding that there can be good without evil, whereas scientific evidences indicate that suffering and carnivorousness were necessary to evolution’s path towards creating humans. She writes: Meat eating was necessary to our development. To attribute the beginning of predatory behavior to Satan is to attribute to Satan what was necessary to make us human. If predation is evil, then evil becomes necessary to our creation, and this is theologically untenable. On behalf of Lewis, it can be replied that Sollereder confounds metaphysical necessity and physical necessity. When Lewis argues that there can be good without evil, he is arguing that it is not metaphysically necessary for evil to exist in order for good to exist. On the other hand, when Sollereder argues that scientific evidences indicate that suffering and carnivorousness were necessary to evolution’s path towards creating humans, she is arguing for physical necessity. Given that evil is not metaphysically necessary, God could have created a world in which only good exists. Given his omnipotence, the God who created the universe ex nihilo could also have created human beings ex nihilo, without having to use an evolutionary process that required carnivorousness. However, God freely chose to create humans using an evolutionary process that required carnivorousness. This is not contrary to the fact that God could have created humans without requiring an evolutionary process, and thus is not contrary to Lewis’s understanding. It can be argued that God freely chose to use a process in which evil caused by free agents (e.g. Satan) is involved, so as to show that he can bring good out of evil. Moreover, consider the case of Jesus’ betrayal and crucifixion, which (Sollereder would agree) was necessary for our salvation—a good outcome! It should be noted that various Scriptural passages identify Jesus’ betrayal and crucifixion as an act of evil attributed to Satan (John 13:27) and other evil conspirators (Acts 4:28), even though it was an act that was necessary for our salvation. This is not theologically untenable, on the contrary it is consistent with Romans 8:28. Sollereder raises another objection against Lewis’s suggestion, claiming that ‘I can’t find any Scriptural merit for the idea that the natural world has been deeply corrupted by evil demonic powers’ (Sollereder 2017). On behalf of Lewis, it should be noted that Lewis does not have to argue that his suggestion is explicitly taught in Scripture, only that it is consistent with Scripture and, I would argue, quite plausible given the aforementioned hints (see further the discussion on the distinction between Tasks A and C in Chapter 5). Sollereder objects that if the nonhuman creation was corrupted at an early stage, this would have been important to point out and we might expect divine warning to show up in the human commission in Genesis 1, but no opposition is noted; instead we find God approving of creation, calling it ‘very good,’ and blessing it (Sollereder 2017; 2016, p. 103).

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In reply, it has been explained previously that ‘very good’ does not mean ‘perfect.’ Sollereder’s objection is an invalid argument from silence given that the Genesis text is not intended to be a complete record and does not explain, for example, why the earth was formless and void. Neither does the Genesis text mention that God created living things via the process of evolution, but Sollereder herself would recognize that this is an invalid argument from silence against evolutionary creation which she accepts. Moreover, the divine commission to ‘subdue’ (Genesis 1:27, see Section 4.2) may have already hinted to the original recipients of this commission that opposition existed. Sollereder claims that the serpent in the Garden of Eden is not considered to be the devil, but just another of the ‘wild animals the Lord God had made’ (Genesis 3:1b). However, Genesis 3:1 notes that the serpent ‘was more crafty than any other wild animal’; this indicates that evil was already present. Moreover, Sollereder neglects the interpretation of the serpent as the devil in early Judaism and the New Testament (Keener 2003, p. 562 citing, for example, Wisdom of Solomon 2:23–24; Revelation 12:9; 20:2; 3 Baruch 9:7; Apocalypse of Abraham 23:1, 11; Apocalypse of Sedrach 5:1–6). Sollereder (2017; 2016, p. 103) argues that ‘in the book of Job God points out with special affectionate pride all the uncontrollable and terrifying aspects of the natural world.’ Numerous Scriptural passages (e.g. Job 38–42, Psalm 104) claim that the uncontrollable, unpredictable, and violent aspects of creation are held forth as evidence of God’s power. Moreover, if Satan was the originator of the cougar’s fang, we would also have to attribute the elegance and speed of the deer to Satan’s creative powers, since they result from the fang as a result of evolutionary pressure. ‘In the end, we would be left wondering what precisely was left of creation that could be attributed to God’ (Sollereder 2016, p. 103). One can agree that those uncontrollable, unpredictable, and violent aspects of creation which manifest power and magnificence, as well as the ability to adapt in response to evolutionary pressure (resulting in, for example, the elegance and speed of the deer), are God’s creation. However, this is compatible with the possibility that Satan had caused the initial (and scientifically undetectable) perturbations (cf. ‘butterfly effect’) resulting in the initial carnivorousness in much earlier and simpler life forms, which God sovereignly allowed and worked out for good as a display of his power and wisdom (Psalm 104:24), using the process of evolution to bring about mighty creatures such as the lions (Psalm 104:21; see also Job 38–42). Although this possibility is not mentioned in the Bible, one should remember that the Bible is not intended to be a complete record of creation as explained previously. Moreover, this possibility is consistent with Genesis 1’s affirmation that creation is good, which (as explained already) does not imply the absence of all evil and suffering. This possibility is also consistent with Paul’s affirmation that all things have been created through Christ and for Christ who is before all things (Colossians 1:15–16), which can be understood as God bringing about the universe ex nihilo through Christ and (despite the disruptions caused by fallen angelic beings) working out creation for good through Christ and for Christ as explained already. Sollereder (2017) points out that in Romans 8:19–22 it is

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God who subjects the creation to frustration in hope. However, this does not exclude the involvement of Satan, just as the Scriptural affirmation that God crushed the Messiah for our salvation (Isaiah 53:10) does not exclude the involvement of Satan (John 13:27) and other evil conspirators (Acts 4:28). Giberson and Collins (2011, p. 133) are concerned that to ‘ascribe the creation of anything in nature to Satan is to elevate Satan from a creature to a co-creator of the world with God.’ In reply, God as the Creator should be understood as him being the First Cause of the cosmos, from whom and through whom and for whom are all things (Romans 11:36). Saying that Satan caused certain mutations resulting in the origination of carnivorousness does not elevate Satan to that level. Moreover, the Biblical doctrine of creation and Divine Sovereignty evidently does not exclude the possibility of God allowing, say, a mad scientist modifying the genetic code and creating a new super virus. Likewise, the Biblical doctrine does not exclude the possibility of fallen angels modifying the genetic code and creating parasitoids which consume their hosts alive. Jim Stump (2016) objects that the postulation of an Angelic Fall causing such sufferings is ad hoc. However, the charge of ad hoc-ness is unwarranted given the numerous Scriptural hints noted already and the plausibility of demons explained in Chapter 3.

4.8 Evolutionary evils may have resulted from free decisions by non-human animals With regards to the Biblical portrayal of Noah’s Flood, it has been asked whether it is unjust of God to kill so many animals together with the sinful people by drowning. One might reply that, since God is the creator of all life, it is not morally wrong for him to take away any life. As the Giver of life, he has the right to take life as he wills (Swinburne 2011, pp. 233–4). One might also argue on the basis of the Connection Building Theodicy (see Section 4.6) that human sins would affect animals which are regarded as their property. The drowning of animals can thus be seen as something similar to the suffering of animals in other natural disasters discussed previously (see also Chapter 8). The eminent Biblical scholar Gordon Wenham however suggested another possibility which, as I shall later explain, can also be considered for the problem of pre-human evil. Commenting on Genesis 6:12, ‘all flesh had corrupted their way,’ Wenham (1987) thinks that ‘all flesh’ refers to human and animals (as it does throughout the Flood narrative), thus ‘all flesh had corrupted their way’ implies that animals had sinned. It is also interesting to note the portrayal of Balaam’s donkey being capable of moral reasoning in Numbers 22:28–33, asking Balaam ‘What have I done to you’ (v. 28), i.e. to deserve being beaten by you three times. The passage does not portray God putting words into the donkey’s mouth; rather God opens its mouth, i.e. enables it to communicate to Balaam what is in its mind. The donkey’s innocence is affirmed in verse 33 by the Angel who said, ‘I would have spared the donkey.’ Moreover, Genesis 9:9–10 portrays God as making the Rainbow Covenant with all living creatures, not just humans, and covenant can only be made with entities that are capable of moral reasoning.

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Recent scientific studies have shown that there are glimmers of both free will and moral awareness in the other members of the animal kingdom (Enns, McGrath, and Schloss 2011). Indeed, the idea that animals should have many capacities similar to human beings (except perhaps the election and capacity for the unique dominion, responsibility, and Christlikeness mentioned in Scripture in relation to the image of God) should be expected given Moritz’s observation that in the Bible: Both humans and animals are described as ‘living souls/living beings’ (nephesh), and the word used here implies a certain kinship (for animals, see Gen. 1:20, 1:30, 2:19, 9:4 and for humans, see Gen. 2:7, 9:5, 12:5). The word ‘spirit’ (neshama) is also used in reference to both humans and animals (Gen. 6:17, 7:22). Other biblical Hebrew terms also reflect this similarity between humans and animals. The phrase ‘spirit of life’ (ruach hayyim) is used for both animals and humans without distinction (for animals see Gen. 1:20–24, 2:19, 9:10, 15; for humans, see Gen. 2:7, 9:5). The word ‘flesh’ (basar) includes both humans and animals. The expression ‘all flesh’ (kol basar) literally means ‘all living creatures, animal as well as human.’ In Scripture, there is only one designation that humans unequivocally have and that animals do not: humans, unlike animals, are said to be created ‘as the image and likeness of God’ (imago Dei). (Moritz 2013, p. 6) Polkinghorne has suggested the ‘free process defence’ for evolutionary evils: ‘In his great act of creation I believe that God allows the physical world to be itself, not in Manichaean opposition to him, but in that independence which is Love’s gift of freedom to the one beloved’ (Polkinghorne 2005, p. 77). Developing this idea, Sollereder (2018, p. 73) explains that free process is not a freedom that denies God’s essential ability to act, but a ‘letting-be’ (German Gelassenheit, from Heidegger) that is essential to the nature of love. Thus: the Creator does not choose for the creatures how they must live. Instead, creatures make choices (from whatever range of behaviours lies within their capacity) in order to survive and reproduce, and descendants stand in the genetic and behavioural traditions passed on to them, on which they themselves innovate. (Sollereder 2018, p. 105) By ‘choice,’ she means that ‘a creature has more than one behavioural response available in light of environmental stimuli,’ noting that this sort of choice is commonly observed in the natural world (Sollereder 2018, p. 106). Certain evolutionary evils could thus have resulted from free non-human animal decisions which set the conditions for these evolutionary evils. Moritz cites the example of the beetle male Tegrodera aloga, which is capable of courting potential partners in a decorous manner, but can choose to ‘rape’ (coercive sex) the female instead (Moritz 2008, pp. 182–3). Moritz (2014, p. 373) suggests:

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Animal choices, though perhaps not as self-conscious, free, or morally culpable as those of humans, are still theologically significant insofar as they influence the degree and specific types of evolutionary suffering that are brought into existence through such choices. The intentions, choices, and subsequent behavioral habits of nonhuman animals serve as a significant universal contingent in prehuman evolutionary history and such animal choices impact the actual occurrence of evolutionary evils by playing a central role in determining many of the specific forms in which instances of suffering become historically embodied. One might suggest the possibility that certain forms of ‘cruel’ behaviour in creatures are the result of some early life forms freely choosing to behave in a certain way, and this affected the behaviour of subsequent generations. Moritz observes: ‘While humans, as fully moral beings, are maximally conscious and thus maximally culpable for their actions, non-human animals, according to their various kinds, are culpable only to the degree which their capacity for sentience allows’ (Moritz 2008, p. 185). Sollereder notes that: Even very small choices, multiplied over the countless living beings making countless choices day by day, can cause the evolutionary process as a whole to shift in dramatic ways towards patterns of harmful behaviours … Thus, the Ichneumon wasp developed a parasitic reproductive cycle (laying its eggs in the bodies of living caterpillars) from pursuing its good desires down roads of opportunity that have caused much harm (if not suffering) to caterpillars. (Sollereder 2018, pp. 106–7) Therefore, God did not design the parasitic Ichneumon wasp to lay eggs within a living host, but God’s love created an open field of possibilities in which the Ichneumon would have the freedom to develop that survival technique as it pursued its desires. (Sollereder 2018, pp. 116–17) Likewise: the tiger’s aggressive way of being in the world was not directly planned by God, or caused by God’s persuasive call upon the long line of tiger ancestors, but came about through each ancestor pursuing its own good, developing new skills, and surviving long enough to reproduce successfully. (Sollereder 2018, p. 107) Kojonen (2021) raises the concern that, whereas the plausibility of culpability seems to require libertarian freedom, Sollereder’s argument merely appeals to the freedom of animal agency, rather than libertarian free will as such. In reply, as explained earlier concerning the burden of proof in the dialectic regarding the

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problem of evil, the burden would be on the atheist to exclude the possibility that some animals might have possessed libertarian free will in a rudimentary sense, but this has not been excluded but its exclusion merely assumed. Contrary to a competition-driven model of evolution which postulates that selfish behaviours that maximize an organism’s reproductive potential offer a fitness advantage, many scientists nowadays argue that cooperation, working alongside mutation and natural selection, plays a critical role in populations from microbes to human societies (Nowak and Coakley 2013). Hence, ‘The fear, then, often expressed in the twentieth century by the Vatican, that the embracing of Darwinism somehow encourages hostile competitiveness or individualism has to be severely modified’ (p. 383). This however does not imply that all creatures would choose cooperation over selfishness; it is evident that selfish behaviour is still prevalent among animals, as it is among human beings. As noted earlier, the idea of animal culpability has Scriptural support, for example, Genesis 6:11–13 states that all animals and humans had corrupted their way upon the earth (Moritz 2008, p. 185). Animals too exemplify a form of selfishness that is in need of redemption (Deane-Drummond 2009, p. 167), and David Clough (2012, p. 125) argues that this conclusion is evidenced by Scriptural passages which affirm that Christ came to effect reconciliation between all things and God (citing Romans 8 and Colossians 1). Sollereder (2018, p. 108) objects to considering non-human animals as sinful, ‘since they (so far as we know) have no conscious recognition of God’s laws, and therefore cannot be held culpable on a moral level.’ Nevertheless, it can be argued that freely choosing selfishness is still moral evil, and it has been argued in Chapter 3 that unintentional sin is still regarded as a sin. Although I agree that in most instances ‘the wilful destruction of one creature by another is simply the way the world works’ (Sollereder 2018, p. 63), this does not imply that non-human animals are free from all morally culpable selfishness whatsoever, just as the fact that many humans have naturally fought over food supplies does not imply that they are free from all morally culpable selfishness whatsoever.

4.9 Moral choices, character formation, and redemption Another possible answer which may be given to the question how are the apparently random and ‘clumsy, wasteful, blundering’ events in evolution (and pre-Fall natural world in general) consistent with Divine providence is that God wants free creatures like humans and angels to be involved in the process of subduing so as to shape them as individuals as they make their free choices in the process. (For the compatibility between divine providence and free choices, see the Middle Knowledge perspective discussed in Chapter 3.) This process also allows them to experience the grace and power of God as they choose to rely on him. Whereas the natural world has a tendency towards disorder as a result of the law of entropy, humans can set up order. The parable of the wheat and the tares (Matthew 13:24–30),5 which indicates that it can be perilous to root out evil immediately because evil props up so much of the good during this present dispensation, might serve as a useful hermeneutical lens for

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understanding the tragedy and beauty of evolutionary history, and the mixture of good and corrupted in nature (Creegan 2013). Schloss (2006, p. 202) points out that ‘every work of art is every engineer’s waste,’ and that there is still ‘grandeur in this view of life’ as Darwin (1963, p. 445) himself observed. Compared to the view of life portrayed by Young Earth Creationists, this view of life is far more adventurous and exciting. Peels suggests that God might have reasons not to let his existence be too obvious to everyone (see also Chapter 7 of this book), thus he used an evolutionary process to create. For God’s existence would be too obvious ‘if we had strong evidence to think that biodiversity and humanity came into existence out of nothing, say, a few thousand years ago’ (Peels 2018, p. 560). Peels also suggests that choosing to care for the weak, lonely, and vulnerable is a harder thing for humans to do in a Darwinian world, and this makes moral behaviour such as freely choosing to care for those in need to be of great value, and hence God chose to create a Darwinian world in which moral behaviours that are of such great value can exist (Peels 2018). Thus, to reject Christianity as a religion of compassion, as Nietzsche did, is to miss the point. Although an omnipotent God could have created a universe with different laws and constants, he may have chosen to create one in which suffering is present to teach object lessons and to allow for free will. One possible object lesson is that God can work things out for good. That is, despite the suffering (which may be apparent rather than real, as explained earlier), creation as a whole evolved into all kinds of beautiful and amazing creatures including human beings. Sollereder explains that: the death of a creature is never wasted. Most of the lives cut short are brought to an end because they are eaten by something else—the lives lost are directly involved in the flourishing of another. Even when they are not directly eaten, the energy and materials stored in their bodies are eventually recycled and reused by other organisms … ‘The evils are redeemed in the ongoing story.’ (Sollereder 2016, p. 105, citing Rolston) Another object lesson is explained by Alexander (2014, p. 376) as follows: the animal world with its competition and survival of the fittest is not there to instruct our moral ethical systems concerning how we should treat one another, nor to provide examples for us to follow in our moral decision-making, but rather to provide a ‘back-cloth against which freely made human decision-making should stand out even more sharply as a unique feature of human existence.’ Sadly, there have been those (e.g. Hitler and Stalin) who rejected the Biblical doctrine that all humans are created in the image of God and who, instead of learning not to be cruel like how some of the animals appear to be, acted in ways which are worse than animals.

4.10 Redemption for weak animals One might ask, what consolation is there for those weak creatures which have suffered and did not have a chance to live fulfilling lives? Commenting on the

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Divine speeches to Job in Job 38–42, Rea (2018, p. 145) writes, ‘I cannot set aside the fact that much of what God is said to be doing with creation involves taking sides with predators (e.g. hunting on behalf of the lion)’ (see Job 38:39: ‘Can you hunt the prey for the lion, or satisfy the appetite of the young lions.’) But of course, Job 38–42 talks about God caring for other creatures too, including those which are eaten by the lions. The point of Job 38:39 is that God provides for the needs of creatures. Commenting on Job 38:41 (‘Who provides for the raven its prey, when its young ones cry to God’), Eleonore Stump (2010, p. 191) notes that: nothing in the speeches suggests that, when God considers what to do about the hunger of the baby birds, he thinks primarily about what might be a good thing for the cats in their neighborhood. God does not think about abandoning the baby birds in their need and weakness in order to benefit some other part of his creation; he does not consider whether letting them stay hungry would be justified by the good it produces elsewhere in the world. Rather, he considers what will be good for them, and so he feeds them when they cry to him. As for those weak creatures (including the preys), Sollereder replies that such creatures may be comforted by God’s presence in their suffering: in a way that is inaccessible to humans … I do not imagine that the presence has to be consciously acknowledged to be effective: babies respond to, and are comforted by, a mother’s presence long before they can grasp abstract concepts like ‘self’ and ‘mother’ and ‘love.’ (Sollereder 2018, p. 136) In the afterlife, they would have a chance to flourish, and the glories of those creatures whom they had contributed to would be reflected back on those who suffered and made these achievements possible. They would acquire new capacities, and share in the glory of the whole—including that of redeemed humans—to which they contributed (Sollereder 2016, pp. 104–7). Dougherty (2014) suggests that these new capacities may include a transition from sentience to personhood. This would allow for a Soul-Making Theodicy that would include their capacity to understand and their willing embrace of the suffering they underwent. Dougherty’s analogy of human babies for non-human animals is particularly helpful. He writes: For example, a male infant can undergo the pain of circumcision as part of a religious ritual. At that time he has no ability to appropriate this into the narrative of a good life. Yet, later, after acquiring normal adult cognitive capabilities, he might endorse this act as part of his inclusion in his religious tradition. He could not only forgive his parents in light of a benevolent understanding of their purposes for including him in the ritual, but be glad they did so. (p. 142)

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Sollereder (2018, p. 163) notes that Dougherty’s suggestion offers a possible way ‘to defeat the experience of suffering in the life of the individual. It is the same individual who suffered who also has the possibility of making meaning from that suffering’ which contributed to the significance of their existence. Sollereder describes it beautifully as follows: The image I use for redemption is that of a photo mosaic. Most of us have seen the computer-generated images in which a picture is made up of hundreds or thousands of pixels, each of which is a full picture itself. Our lives, and the lives of all living creatures, are like those pixel-pictures. Each is a whole in itself, unique and necessary. No other picture could bring the exact arrangement of light, shadow, and color that each picture contributes. God arranges the stories one against another in order to bring out larger redemptive patterns: an image of universal harmony … And because each pixel or narrative is a necessary component of the whole, the beauty, harmony, and glory of the whole reflects back onto each individual part. (Sollereder 2016, p. 106)6

4.11 Conclusion In response to the problem of pre-human evils, I develop a defence which synthesizes the strengths of various responses, and I defend these responses against objections. These responses include Murray’s (2008) argument that those creatures which do not have a nervous system do not suffer pain, whereas those which do have may not truly suffer phenomenological pain (similar to cases of blindsight) (Murray notes that the objector bears the burden of proof to rule out these possibilities). Others (e.g. Collins 2013) argue that God created conscious agents (e.g. angels, humans) which can affect the welfare of other creatures so as to allow for the possibility of eternal bonds of appreciation, contribution, and intimacy (Connection Building Theodicy). Certain evolutionary evils could have resulted from free decisions by angels (O’Halloran 2015, Lloyd 2018) or non-human animals (Moritz 2014; Sollereder 2018, Chapter 4) which set the conditions for these evolutionary evils. God declares that creation is ‘good’ but that does not mean ‘perfect’ (Provan 2014, p. 283). God wants free creatures like humans to be involved in the process of subduing an imperfect world (cf. Genesis 1:27) so as to shape them as individuals as they make their free choices in the process. The parable of the wheat and the tares (Matthew 13:24–30), which indicates it can be perilous to root out evil immediately because evil props up so much of the good during this present dispensation, might serve as a useful hermeneutical lens for understanding the tragedy and beauty of evolutionary history, and the mixture of good and corrupted in nature (Creegan 2013). Although millions of years of pre-human suffering may seem very long, it is really short from the perspective of an eternal timescale. God does not need to accomplish his purposes ‘efficiently’ given that he does not have limited time or power (Morris 1986, p. 78). Although an omnipotent God could have created a

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universe with different laws and constants, he chose to create one in which suffering is allowed for the shaping of individuals with free will and to provide an object lesson that he can work things out for good. That is, despite the suffering (which may be apparent rather than real), creation as a whole evolved into all kinds of beautiful and amazing creatures including human beings. This perspective of bringing forth life from death is consistent with the central Christian message concerning the crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus: ‘In God’s cruciform economy he graciously turns death to life’ (Schloss 2006, p. 202). Choosing to care for the weak, lonely, and vulnerable is a harder thing for humans to do in a Darwinian world, and this makes moral behaviour such as freely choosing to care for those in need to be of great value. Hence God may have chosen to create a Darwinian world in which moral behaviours that are of such great value can exist (Peels 2018). As for those weak creatures which suffered and did not have a chance to live fulfilling lives, they may be comforted by God’s presence in their suffering, and in the afterlife, they would have a chance to flourish. The glories of those creatures whom they had contributed to would be reflected back on them who suffered and made these achievements possible. They would acquire new capacities, and share in the glory of the whole to which they contributed (Sollereder 2016; 2018).

Notes 1 For the view of YECs, see https://answersingenesis.org/death-before-sin/death-not-good/. 2 Alexander (2014) argues that this passage should be understood symbolically, citing another passage in Isaiah (35:9) which states that ‘no lion shall be there.’ 3 One might object that this is a devil-of-the-gaps argument (Dunnington 2018, p. 273). In reply, the ‘gaps’ objection is only valid if the argument is trying to prove that the devil exists. However, in the present dialectic the argument is merely trying to rebut the argument from evil, and since the burden of proof is on the atheist where the argument from evil is concerned, the atheist would need to exclude the possibility of the devil acting at the gaps. 4 It is interesting to consider the case of extinction of dinosaurs mentioned by evolutionist Stephen Jay Gould. Dinosaurs first appeared during the Triassic period (250–210 million years ago) and flourished until the end of the Cretaceous period, c.65 million years ago, at which time many different species of dinosaurs died out due to the aftereffects of an asteroid collision (Christian 2011, p. 124), and modern birds may be descendants of the few species of dinosaurs that survived (p. 125). Mammals evolved from reptiles and first appeared during the Triassic, at about the same time as the earliest dinosaurs, but they only flourished and diversified after the disappearance of most dinosaurs, filling the many ecological niches vacated by dinosaurs (p. 125). Unlike reptiles, mammals are warm-blooded, furry, and their young are nourished before birth inside the bodies of females and after birth from modified sweat glands that produce milk (p. 125). Most of the primates, a form of mammals which includes about 200 species of monkeys, lemurs, and apes, have been tree-dwellers. This particular niche encouraged the evolution of limbs and brains that could control their complex movements. A superfamily of primates known as the Hominoidea (hominoids) appeared roughly 25 million years ago in Africa; this includes the apes (chimpanzees, gorillas, gibbons, and orangutans), many extinct species, and human beings (pp. 125–7). Reflecting on this scientific narrative, Stephen Jay Gould comments that, thanks to an asteroid hitting Earth 65 million years

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ago, the dinosaurs were wiped out and the mammals took over. Had this not happened, one doubts that humans would have evolved: Since dinosaurs were not moving toward markedly larger brains, and since such a prospect may lie outside the capabilities of reptilian design … we must assume that consciousness would not have evolved on our planet if a cosmic catastrophe had not claimed dinosaurs as victims. (Gould 1989, p. 318) From a theological perspective, one might suggest the possibility that the asteroid causing dinosaurs’ extinction was a tragic event brought about by Satan, but God showed that he is able to work things out for good by using this event to bring about conscious creatures like humans. Against this, one might claim that, even without an asteroid hitting the earth and causing dinosaurs to go extinct, humans would have evolved. After all, primates were already around and with their intelligence they would have taken over (I thank Simon Conway Morris for mentioning this objection to me in personal conversation). In reply, this claim is debatable, but even if it is granted, this does not exclude the possibility of Satan causing destruction (see the Connection Building Theodicy mentioned in Section 4.6). 5 He put before them another parable: The kingdom of heaven may be compared to someone who sowed good seed in his field; but while everybody was asleep, an enemy came and sowed weeds among the wheat, and then went away. So when the plants came up and bore grain, then the weeds appeared as well. And the slaves of the householder came and said to him, ‘Master, did you not sow good seed in your field? Where, then, did these weeds come from?’ He answered, ‘An enemy has done this.’ The slaves said to him, ‘Then do you want us to go and gather them?’ But he replied, ‘No; for in gathering the weeds you would uproot the wheat along with them. Let both of them grow together until the harvest; and at harvest time I will tell the reapers, “Collect the weeds first and bind them in bundles to be burned, but gather the wheat into my barn”.’ 6 A deontologist might object that letting innocent animals suffer what they do not deserve is wrong regardless of the consequence, i.e. even if it may work out for good. For a response, see Chapter 8.

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5.1 The question of scientific credibility Having discussed the problem of pre-human evil in the previous chapter, I shall move on to discuss the traditional Christian account concerning the origin of human evil. This account has been rejected by many in our contemporary society because they think that it is incompatible with modern science. In its place the theory of evolution has been used to explain the widespread extent of moral evil among humans. For example, Ward (2017, p. 129) writes, ‘It is not surprising that humans will have natural dispositions to lust, aggression, altruism, and empathy, for that is what the conditions of evolution are likely to implant in them.’ He understands the Genesis story ‘as a depiction of a battle of contrasting characteristics in human nature’ (pp. 129–30). Although many theologians have argued that the denial of understanding Genesis as affirming humans falling from a state of original sinlessness to a state of sin is contrary to the understanding of the Biblical authors and the Christian Gospel, Ward denies understanding Genesis in this manner, and instead affirms that: as societies of humanoids began to develop powers of intellectual thought and moral responsibility, they were faced with the moral choice of good (obeying the moral demands of goodness) or evil (choosing desire for power and knowledge). Unfortunately, choices of evil over good spread rapidly through those human populations. As epigenetics now suggests, the genetic dispositions to self-will were turned on and the genetic dispositions to altruism were blocked by continuing and growing social structures and personal choices. What we call ‘original sin,’ the predisposition to evil choices and the ignorance of God that follows from disobedience to God’s moral demands, became rooted in human nature. All human persons are now born into a society where ignorance of God and inclinations to pride and self-will are endemic and inescapable. Such a condition results from generations of evil choices, as the human species, at or near the point of its origin as a distinctively personal species, turned away from goodness toward evil. (p. 130) DOI: 10.4324/9781003265689-5

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Against the doctrine that ‘sin came into the world through one man’ (Romans 5:12), it has been argued that: this Adam and Eve and everyone else would have had mums and dads and that these would have been of the same species—Darwinian evolution is gradual—and they would have been just as good and bad as their offspring. Sin did not enter the world through one man. The struggle for existence is, and always was, really tough. Being nice all of the time—more on this in a moment—simply isn’t a good Darwinian strategy … It just won’t work to say that one day God put immortal souls in a pair of hominins and that did the job. Either every member of the species was made in the image of God, or none was. Shared characteristics is what it means to say you have a species. Horses have four legs, humans have two. The very message of human evolution is that we as a line started to get bigger and bigger brains and that means intelligence. (Ruse 2017, p. 158) I shall reply to Ward and Ruse in what follows. Concerning the status of Adam, it is true that many have rejected the Adamic Fall Theodicy because population genetics indicates that the genetic diversity of current Homo sapiens requires that they descended from a large population rather than from a single couple (Ruse 2017). Previous attempts to establish compatibility between science and Scripture have often been accused of Concordism (twisting Scriptural teachings to make them fit science or rejecting or distorting scientific findings to make them fit the Scripture). In Loke (2016), I argue that this problem can be avoided by interpreting scientific findings in ways that are consistent with proper scientific methodology and by interpreting Scripture according to proper hermeneutical principles, paying attention to genre, context, word meaning, grammar, historical and cultural background, etc. These hermeneutical principles are the criteria which I adopt for determining which particular details of the Biblical texts are to be understood as historical and which are to be understood as metaphorical, allegorical, etc. I also explain that Task (A) ‘interpreting the Bible’ is distinct from Task (B) ‘showing that the Biblical account is true’ and Task (C) ‘showing that there is no incompatibility between human evolution and the Bible.’ For (A), one would ask for evidences to show what the human Biblical author had in mind, but for (C) it is perfectly legitimate to suggest a possible and plausible model (e.g. one which involves evolution) which the Biblical authors may not have thought of, as long as the possibility is not contradictory to what the Biblical authors expressed. The Christian doctrine of divine inspiration of Scripture does not require God to reveal to the human Biblical authors an exhaustive knowledge of everything, and it can be argued that the reason evolution does not feature in the Bible is not because the human Biblical authors rejected evolution but because they did not think about evolution at all. I discuss both Task (A) and Task (C), keeping them distinct and applying the aforementioned hermeneutical principles rigorously, and cite Biblical scholars in

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support for the purpose of Task (A), while mentioning modern scientific knowledge for the purpose of Task (C) when appropriate. I explain elsewhere that Divine Accommodation does not entail the affirmation of what we now know are scientific errors (Loke 2018b; forthcoming b). One can proceed to develop a model as follows. First, following Old Testament scholars Walton (2009; 2015), Collins (2018) and others, and using the proper hermeneutical principles explained previously, the six days of creation in Genesis 1–2 can be understood as a time period in which the cosmos and living things were organized (or reorganized) by God for the setting up of a Cosmic Temple in the Garden of Eden. Moreover, the story of Adam and the subsequent Fall can be understood as localized events, not global ones. Additionally, Gavin McGrath (1997) and others have argued that the Biblical genealogies are not intended to be a complete record; only prominent names are recorded, and there are gaps in the genealogies. Where Task (C) is concerned, the implication of the foregoing considerations is that Genesis does not say when the universe (with the sun, the moon, the stars, and the living things) began to exist. Thus, Genesis does not exclude the possibility that there could have been billions of years during which God worked out his purposes for other creatures, followed by a six-day organization process which included the creation of the first humans. Therefore, given the foregoing and other plausible interpretations, there is no contradiction between the Scripture and the standard scientific picture of cosmic origins. Second, using proper hermeneutical principles in accordance with Task (A), I have argued that, by ‘human beings,’ the Biblical authors refer to beings created in the image of God, understood as God’s election for the role of royal representatives and the possession of certain capacities and relationships relevant to this role (Loke 2016). For the purpose of Task (C), one can draw a distinction between ‘anatomical Homo which possessed the image of God’ (God’s-ImageBearer, Adam being the first of these) and anatomical Homo which did not possess the image of God. Furthermore, by associating the image of God with Divine election and certain capacities, I proposed that God could have chosen an anatomical Homo and made that organism a human being (i.e. possessing the image of God) in a localized environment (the Garden of Eden). After the Fall, the image of God was passed down from this person (Adam) to his descendants, some of whom procreated with non-imago-Dei-Homo outside the Garden. Their descendants were fully human, while non-imago-Dei-Homo contributed to the genetic diversity. In this way, all humans today could have a common ancestor even though this ancestor is not our sole ancestor. This conclusion is consistent with evolutionary population genetics and with scientific studies published in the preeminent science journal Nature which have shown that all human beings today are very likely to have a very recent common ancestor even if substantial forms of population subdivision existed with a very low rate of migration (Rohde, Olson, and Chang 2004; Hein 2004). The scientific credibility of my conclusion is indicated by the fact that a similar conclusion has been defended by biologist Joshua Swamidass (2018; 2019) and his work has convinced sceptical biologists (e.g. Lents 2019) and opposing groups (e.g. Biologos) to change their views

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concerning the compatibility of evolutionary genetics and the existence of Adam, thus bridging a longstanding divide between faith and science. Against the Genealogical Adam proposal, Houck (2020, pp. 198–9) asks, ‘Why didn’t God elevate us as a group, if evolution had prepared an entire population for human existence? Similarly, why wouldn’t God have created a population of theological human beings large enough for them to avoid widespread interbreeding with non-humans?’ In reply, God created a single first human rather than a group because his human (Adam) is intended to be ‘a type of the one who was to come’ (Romans 5:14), i.e. a prefigurement of Christ (see Chapter 6). As for interbreeding with non-humans, one can argue that this was done in disobedience to God (i.e. one can argue that God could have intended the descendants of Adam to interbreed among themselves and that this was permitted by God before the giving of the Mosaic Law and was practised by many ancient cultures such as the Egyptian pharaohs). Alternatively, one can argue that this was not done in disobedience to God because it was not considered as bestiality. Bestiality is defined as sexual intercourse between humans and animals which are biologically non-human; lusting after ‘other flesh’ (Jude 1:7) is condemned in Scripture (for condemnation of bestiality see also Exodus 22:19; Leviticus 18:23; 20:15–16; Deuteronomy 27:21). However, unlike other animals, non-human anatomical Homo were similar to human beings biologically—they were all anatomically Homo and therefore of the ‘same flesh’ (as argued in Chapter 6; these anatomical Homo may even be persons), and hence not a problem. (For explorations of these two possibilities, as well as a detailed discussion on other novel questions which arise from this model of human origins, see my forthcoming book The Origin of Humanity and Evolution: Science and Scripture in Conversation [Loke forthcoming b]). On the Genealogical Adam model which has been defended by Swamidass and myself, sin entered the human race through Adam (Romans 5:12) in the sense that Adam is the first image-of-God bearer (i.e. the first anatomical Homo to be elected by God for the role of royal representative) who sinned, and his sin affected his descendants (see discussion of Original Sin in Chapter 6). One might ask whether on my model the non-imago-Dei-anatomical-Homo had also sinned, and whether that would affect the doctrine of Original Sin. In response, it has been argued in Chapter 4 that other animals might have sinned. Thus the nonimago-Dei-anatomical-Homo might have sinned as well. In any case, this issue does not affect the traditional doctrine of Original Sin just as the traditional Christian doctrine of angelic sin does not affect the traditional doctrine of Original Sin, since the traditional doctrine of Original Sin is by definition concerned with human beings bearing the image of God and how they were affected by Adam’s sin (see Chapter 6). Thus, on my model one can still affirm that Adam is the first human being who sinned, in accordance with Romans 5:12. As noted earlier, many evolutionists have objected against the idea that the first human Adam was created with a sinless human nature and that his sin corrupted human nature, by arguing that natural dispositions to aggression etc. were already present in the non-human ancestors from whom humans evolved and that humans

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inherited these dispositions from them. (Following the arguments in Chapter 4, one might suggest the possibility that these dispositions are the result of longstanding misuse of freedom by animals, or perhaps due to perturbations caused by fallen angels much earlier on.) Scientists have discovered how violent chimps are and argued that chimps are very closely related to us biologically (Houck 2020, p. 188). Evolutionary change happens gradually and human desires seem not to have been flawlessly ordered before the Fall (p. 188). In addition, Houck formulates an evolutionary argument against the Fall as follows: The Fall is a volition whereby a human being loses the strictly natural trait of rightly ordered desires (first premise). Every strictly natural trait is transmitted through germline DNA (second premise). Therefore, the Fall is a volition that changes germline DNA. This is absurd, because the volition of a human being cannot change its germline DNA. (Houck 2020, p. 183) A substance dualist account (see Chapter 6) of the creation of Adam and Eve can address the foregoing objections and reject the second premise of Houck’s argument. Consider Pope Pius XII’s statement that the origin of the human body could have come from pre-existent and living matter via the process of evolution but that the souls of Adam and Eve are immediately created by God (Pius XII, Humani Generis 36). God could have created the souls of Adam and Eve in such a way that their souls could have controlled and ordered the desires in their bodies flawlessly, such that they would have a greater desire for God and for the good of another human than the desire to satisfy their bodily needs. Nevertheless, while having flawlessly ordered desires makes it very unlikely for them to sin, given libertarian freedom they could still have freely chosen to sin, as explained in Chapter 3. After they sinned, their souls were corrupted in the sense that they no longer ordered their bodily desires flawlessly and hence they became highly susceptible to the natural dispositions to aggression etc. found in the animals. Their corrupted souls together with these dispositions were then passed down to their descendants (see Chapter 6). Although experiencing a desire (a ‘pull’ on the will) towards evil is not sin (see Chapter 3), having disordered desires is a property of sin as corruption (see Chapter 6), which is an offence to God, although it is the wilful act (whether mental or bodily) of sinning (rather than the possession of the corrupted ‘sin nature’ per se) that results in separation from God and condemnation (Moo 1996, p. 325; see Chapter 6). Alternatively, Swamidass (2019) argues that God could still have created Adam’s physical body de novo (instead of evolved from earlier animals) and made him the common ancestor of all human beings today (even though we would also descend from anatomical Homo outside the Garden), and that there is no incompatibility between this view and evolutionary science because Adam’s offspring ‘would have blended with those outside it, biologically identical neighbors from the surrounding area’ (p. 10) whom God created using the process of evolution.

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In either of these two scenarios, the original sinlessness of humanity only involves a couple of imago-Dei-anatomical-Homo at the beginning of their existence. This is consistent with non-imago-Dei-anatomical-Homo existing before and around them and (similarly to the fallen imago-Dei-anatomicalHomo who descended from Adam and Eve) being plagued with violence. Thus, the original sinlessness of Adam and Eve would hardly have left any trace in the archaeological record, and this is consistent with De Smedt and De Cruz’s (2020) observation concerning the archaeological evidence of the recurrence of violence throughout prehistory. After his creation, Adam was placed in a divinely protected environment (Eden) which occupied a limited geographical area on the earth, and outside the divinely protected environment carnivores etc. already existed. After Adam sinned, the ground on which he lived was cursed in the sense that it no longer had that divine protection. As Augustine argued long ago concerning the curse in Genesis 3, God’s statement to Adam ‘Thorns and thistles shall it bring forth to you’ does not imply the conclusion that it was only then that these plants came forth from the earth. Augustine explains: For it could be that, in view of the many advantages found in different kinds of seeds, these plants had a place on earth without afflicting man in any way. But since they were growing in the fields in which man was now laboring in punishment for his sin, it is reasonable to suppose that they became one of the means of punishing him. For they might have grown elsewhere, for the nourishment of birds and beasts, or even for the use of man. (Augustine, The Literal Meaning of Genesis, 1:3:18, in Augustine 1982, pp. 93–4) In reply to Ruse, his statement ‘shared characteristics is what it means to say you have a species’ should be understood as referring only to physical-biological characteristics. God could have chosen two members of anatomical Homo— which share biological characteristics with other anatomical Homo such as having two legs and a relatively big brain—and given them spiritual characteristics that distinguished them as bearers of the image of God which (given that God is a Spirit; John 4:24) should be understood in spiritual rather than merely physicalbiological terms. These spiritual characteristics would imply that, unlikely their biological parents, they had certain election and capacities as explained earlier. God could have placed them in a protected environment (Garden of Eden) where they did not have to struggle for existence. Sadly, they freely chose to sin against God and lost the protection.

5.2 Why did God give humans the opportunity to choose evil? Peckham notes that, from a canonical perspective, the Scripture depicts a conflict between God and Satan concerning God’s moral character. The serpent’s slanderous allegations against God in Genesis confront Eve ‘with an epistemic

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choice: believe God or entertain the serpent’s insidious slander of God’s character. Either the serpent is a liar or God is’ (Peckham 2018, p. 89): This is, then, a largely epistemic conflict, which (insofar as God maintains his commitment to the epistemic freedom necessary for love) cannot be won by the mere exercise of power but is met by an extended demonstration of character in a cosmic courtroom drama. (p. 89) One might ask: Couldn’t God have given humans free will without giving them the opportunity to choose evil? For example, with respect to Genesis 1–3, why did God allow them to be tempted by the serpent? Why create the Bad Tree (the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil)? ‘If the tree has the power to kill, why did God create it in the first place? … A human parent would be judged criminally negligent for such behavior’ (Antony 2011, p. 35). Additionally, isn’t it the case that Adam and Eve were ignorant of Good and Evil before taking from the Tree, hence they were not blameworthy? Isn’t the testing of Adam analogous to a father telling a five-year-old child (call him Ashton), ‘Do not go near the window or you will fall and die,’ and leaving the flat, and without any supervision, Ashton fell out of the window to his death?1 To answer these questions, one needs to answer why God created humans and gave them free will in the first place. According to the Scripture, the reason why God created humans was not because he needed anything, rather it was to bless those morally valuable creatures who would receive his blessings (Acts 17:24–25). God desires to bless humankind because he is love (1 John 4:8). Thus the creation of humankind manifests God’s love and thus glorifies him; this manifestation is not separate from intending the good of humankind as an end together with the glorification of God. Thus Monaghan (2020, p. 192) is wrong to interpret Isaiah 43:7b ‘I created for my glory’ as implying that God created humans for some purely self-interested reason and uses humans as a mere means to an end. On the contrary, as explained in the previous paragraph, according to Judaeo-Christianity God does not create for self-interest since he does not need anything (Acts 17:24–25), and he is not using humans as a means to an end but rather aiming for the good of humankind as an end which coincides with his glorification. Vitale writes: God creates not primarily in order to fulfill a desire of his but out of love for us. Here we have an important distinction between acting in order to obtain some relational value and acting out of the motives involved in having that relational value. On the latter, it is not the selfish satisfaction of his own desire that God is after in creating, but rather the good of those he creates. That God desires to love us remains relevant to his decision, but the primary

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motivation for his decision is other-centered rather than self-centered. He is motivated to create so that others will be loved. (Vitale 2020, p. 175) Since God is the source of all blessings, the only way which humans can experience the greatest blessing is to be in a right relationship with him. Scripture says that the greatest commandment is to love God with all our hearts, with all our souls, and with all our minds (Matthew 22:37). The nature of love relationship between creatures and God—in particular, a creature’s love for the Creator God—requires the creature making a real choice for which the creature is ultimately responsible (see Chapter 3). This would involve free will and the possibility of choosing to draw near or away from God. Given the foregoing explanation, I shall now show that the Ashton case is disanalogous to the story of Adam in at least three respects. First, within the context of the foregoing understanding of freedom, love, and morality, the Bad Tree was not put in the Garden deliberately to make Adam stumble (it is possible that, even if there were no such tree, Adam could still have chosen to draw away from God). Rather the Tree symbolizes, in a concrete way, the choice to draw away from God and to live one’s life without God. This is unlike the case of Ashton where the window was left open deliberately. Ashton’s father did not have to leave the window open, it was not necessary to leave it open, but he did, thus it was deliberate. Whereas the freedom for Adam to draw away from God was necessary for a genuine love relationship to be possible between them because (as explained earlier) such a relationship requires the making of human free choices. Falling off the window can be forcibly prevented, but the rejection of love cannot be forcibly prevented. One cannot force another to truly love him/her. Adam chose not to love God, and God respected the choice. Adam’s sin has been described as breaking the ‘covenant’ (Hosea 6:7); Aquinas thought it was due to pride in choosing to depend on one’s own means to obtain satisfaction rather than trust in God (Summa Theologica, Question 163, Art.1, cf. Sirach 10:15), whereas Luther (1522) thought it was due to disbelief of God’s Word. Adam’s sin might have included all of these elements, but to understand it, it is important to consider what the act of taking from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil signifies. (It is also interesting to note that, even though the Genesis account portrays Eve as the first to eat the fruit, Romans 5:12–21 says that sin entered the world through Adam. Perhaps before Eve ate the fruit Adam was there giving his consent, hence he sinned first.)2 Second, Adam was not portrayed in the Genesis narratives as an immature five-year-old; and neither was he psychologically and intellectually infantile (contra Antony 2011, p. 37). On the contrary, he had the ability to govern Eden and the ability to subdue creatures (Genesis 1:28) including the serpent, and he had the ability to refuse to believe the serpent. Moreover, Adam was not ignorant. He already knew that God is his creator, and who graciously provided him all his needs, including a helper by creating Eve. Thus they should have trusted their Creator rather than the serpent. Additionally, Old Testament scholar

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Tremper Longman (2017) observes that, as a result of receiving God’s command not to eat from the Tree, Adam and Eve already knew what was good and what was evil prior to eating from the Tree; in particular, they knew that they should not eat from the tree. Thus, what ‘knowledge of good and evil’ means in the context of Genesis 1–3 is not conceptual knowledge per se but ‘deciding what is good and evil.’ By taking the fruit, Adam was in effect deciding for himself that this was good even though he knew that God had already forbidden it. Moreover, according to the narrative, prior to eating from the Tree Adam already had the knowledge to cultivate and maintain a garden (2:15), to name the animals (2:19–20), etc. It should also be noted that other passages in Scripture such as Proverbs 3:13–18 comment that Wisdom is a Tree of Life to those who take hold of her; those who hold her fast will be blessed (v. 18). Likewise, Psalm 19:7–9 contrasts the Tree of knowledge of good and evil (Genesis 3:6, 7) with the Word of God. Whereas the former is thought by Eve to be good for food, desirable for gaining wisdom, and pleasing to the eye, but brought about great transgression and eventually death, the Word of God is said to be good for the soul, making wise the simple, giving joy to the heart, enduring forever, and altogether righteous (Clines 1974). In light of the foregoing observations, it can be concluded that, according to the Christian Scriptures, eating the fruit did not give Adam and Eve intellectual knowledge, and neither did God’s command to them not to eat from that tree imply that God did not want them to have true knowledge and wisdom. Rather, the eating of the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil signifies the human decision to reject God and to decide for oneself what is good and evil. As Lewis (1980, p. 49) writes: What Satan put into the heads of our remote ancestors was the idea that they could ‘be like gods’—could set up on their own as if they had created themselves—be their own masters—invent some sort of happiness for themselves outside God, apart from God. And out of that hopeless attempt has come nearly all that we call human history—money, poverty, ambition, war, prostitution, classes, empires, slavery—the long terrible story of man trying to find something other than God which will make him happy. Hence, when Genesis portrays ‘the LORD God said, “See, the man has become like one of us, knowing good and evil”’ (Genesis 3:22a), what this intends to convey is that the man has become like God in the sense that he decides for himself what is good and evil. Therefore, there are exegetical considerations for thinking that the biblical authors intended the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil—and likewise the Tree of Life—to be symbolic. The Tree of Life symbolizes a right relationship with God who would sustain humans in bodily life had they not sinned. (Saying that the trees are symbols does not imply that they are not real. For example, a country’s flag is a symbol, but it is also something real [Walton 2015, pp. 116, 226].) Antony objects that, although the hypothesis that God is testing Adam might explain the presence of the tree, it cannot adequately

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explain its lethality. ‘If God merely needed a prop for a learning exercise, he could have used a benign species’ (Antony 2011, p. 36). In response, the ‘lethality’ of the offence follows logically from the nature of the offence of choosing to separate oneself from the source of goodness and life. In answer to the question why didn’t Adam die on the day he ate the fruit, Weeks (2014, p. 296) replies that death did follow in the sense that: the point of the text is to present death as a process: a process that began after the eating and is signified first by the separation of the human pair from each other and second by their separation from God. The divine judgments explicate further how that dying process will proceed, especially in the work that consumes the man, in the double sense of engaging him and eating him up until he returns to the dust. Third, whereas Ashton’s death is the end point of the story (a tragic end indeed), Adam’s sin was not the end point of the Biblical story. God desires those who would choose to turn back after they had sinned to draw near to him, thus ultimately experiencing the greatest blessing which would outweigh all suffering in this life. That is the end point which God intends for humanity. Ruse (2017, p. 159) mischaracterizes the views of the Biblical authors as follows: You have a rather naive chap, without any clothes on, sitting in a garden and persuaded by a wily serpent to eat a piece of fruit. And then God blasts him and his girlfriend out of the garden and they and their children are condemned for all eternity, until God takes pity on them. With respect, that seems to me to be a little bit of an overreaction, rather like the legislators of my state that delight in sending fourteen-year-olds to prison for life, without the possibility of parole. In reply, as explained previously, the Biblical authors did not portray Adam as a ‘rather naive chap.’ Rather, he had already been instructed that it was wrong to eat the fruit in Genesis 2. Their children are not condemned for all eternity for the sin of Adam; rather, they would be judged according to what they themselves have believed and done (Romans 2:6; see further, the discussion of Original Sin in Chapter 6). The consequences are not the result of an ‘overreaction’ but follow logically from the nature of the offence against the Source and Foundation of all goodness (see Section 5.4). Unlike the legislators of Ruse’s state, according to the New Testament God freely offers pardon and release to all because of what Christ has done.

5.3 If God already foreknew that people would sin and suffer, why did he create them? Against the view that God does not require the love of humans but created humans to love and bless them, it might be objected that, if humans were not created, they would not need the love. In creating humans, God created the need,

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which also led to suffering when people rejected his love. In a similar vein, atheist David Benatar writes: Although the good things in one’s life make it go better than it otherwise would have gone, one could not have been deprived by their absence if one had not existed. Those who never exist cannot be deprived. However, by coming into existence one does suffer quite serious harms that could not have befallen one had one not come into existence. (Benatar 2006, p. 1) Nagasawa (2018, p. 155) notes that ‘Benatar derives from this observation the proposition that it is morally wrong to procreate and, hence, that the optimal number of humans is exactly zero.’ He replies that many atheists would disagree with him, as can be seen by their expressions of gratitude such as the following by atheist Greta Christina: I have a strong awareness of having good things in my life that I didn’t earn. Including, most importantly, my very existence. And it feels wrong to not express this awareness in some way. It feels churlish, or entitled, or self absorbed. I don’t like treating my good fortune as if it’s just my due. I think gratitude is a good thing. (Christina 2011) Most people recognize that procreation is not wrong and that it would be unjustified for people to bring lawsuits against their parents for procreating them; if the limited good of natural human life is sufficient to justify the human suffering and death that accompany procreation, how much more the far greater good of Godgiven life (Vitale 2020, p. 223)? Benatar’s pessimist view is also contrary to the view of many great thinkers from East and West who (as noted in Chapter 2) would agree that suffering can potentially lead to a greater good, and who would affirm that their existence is better than non-existence. Pessimists might be presupposing that the absence of all suffering is the greatest good. One can question on what basis one can argue that this is the correct understanding. On the other hand, proponents of the Moral Argument for the existence of God would argue that objective morality is grounded in a morally perfect God (Baggett and Walls 2016; Evans 2013), and that the knowledge and enjoyment of him is the greatest good and makes life worth living even if one has to suffer in the process. Benatar’s (2006) reasoning fails to give adequate consideration to the perspective of theistic metaethics and the evidence for the existence of God (the Kalam Cosmological Argument, the historical argument for the resurrection of Jesus, etc.; see Loke 2017a; 2020a) which provides the rational basis for this system of metaethics with its promises for an eternal, happy, and meaningful life with God who will one day ‘wipe away every tear from their eyes’ (Revelation 21:4). This metaethical system implies that, by believing in

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Jesus, one can have hope even in the darkest of times. The infinite, all-powerful, and loving God can satisfy the emptiness in the soul, enable humankind to overcome suffering and death in the afterlife, and give eternal significance, unending excitement, and purpose for life. Where Benatar does briefly consider this theistic perspective, he misrepresents it. For example, he cites Ecclesiastes 1:2–4: So I have praised the dead that are already dead more than the living that are yet alive; but better than both of them is he who has not yet been, who has not seen the evil work that is done under the sun. (Benatar 2006, p. 201) He states that ‘those verses show a Biblical author envying all those who have not come into existence’ (p. 222). However, Benatar fails to note that the Biblical author is speaking from the perspective of ‘under the sun’ (Ecclesiastes 1:9). Without the transcendent perspective offered by theistic metaethics, life is indeed ‘vanity of vanities. All is vanity’ (Ecclesiastes 1:2b). Theists would agree that, if humans were not created, then there would be no need of love and no suffering, but they would argue that in that case those people who would eventually choose to receive God’s blessing (the goodness of which outweighs the evil of suffering) would also not exist. God is love, and love desires the existence and flourishing of others for their benefits. That is why God created humans. God knew that there are many who would ultimately experience the greatest blessing which would outweigh all their suffering. Thus their existence is better than non-existence. In answer to the question why would not God arrange for the earlier death of a perpetrator of evil before he did that evil, Stump (2010, pp. 230–53) uses the Biblical story of Samson to illustrate how it is possible that God could make it the case that the person’s whole life will ultimately turn out to be a good for himself and others if he is willing to turn to God. This story illustrates how God will show grace to those who do not resist him (even though Samson’s motivation was less than perfect even at the end). Therefore, even though God already foreknew that people would sin and suffer, he still created them because God also foreknew that there would be many who would repent after they had sinned, and these people would experience the greatest eternal blessing in heaven which would outweigh all temporary suffering on earth. Many people would choose to draw near to God only after they had experienced the painful consequences of their wrong choices. But what about those who suffer and: yet never respond to that suffering in the right way, ultimately dying without the justification they need to save them from hell. If God knew that my suffering would ultimately do me no good, then why still allow me to suffer? Indeed, why create me in the first place? (Draper 2011, in his review of Stump 2010) Stump (2010) acknowledges that this kind of case, in which love is permanently rejected, is the hardest case for her Thomistic defence against the problem of evil (p. 474).

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According to Wainwright (2001), for God to have deliberately created a person in circumstances in which he knew that the person would not heed his advice, exhortations, etc. is similar to a person offering good moral advice to his daughter knowing that it will be futile and placing her in a situation in which he knew she wouldn’t heed it (p. 93). Why doesn’t God create only those whom he knew would freely repent? The following four responses may be given (and there may be other possible reasons which we may not yet have thought of, given our cognitive limitations). First, according to the Middle Knowledge perspective, for those who refuse to turn back to God and who would ultimately perish, it is not that God doesn’t love them, but rather they freely choose to reject him (Ezekiel 18:31–32) and thus choose to remain outside of God’s realm of forgiveness. Just as a person who chooses to stay away from the light will be in darkness, likewise a person who chooses to remain outside of God’s realm of forgiveness will have to face judgement for their unforgiven sins. Concerning Wainwright’s objections, the father–child analogy is not appropriate in this circumstance (see Chapter 9). It could be that for those cases whereby God created a person X in circumstances in which he knew that X would reject him and would not turn back, God also knew that, even if X were put in other circumstances and given morally significant freedom, he/she would still reject him and would not turn back. In such cases X (and not God) is the cause of his free choice, and therefore X is still responsible. God would still offer good moral advice (as he offered to Cain according to Genesis 4:6–7) because it is his good nature to do so, and because others (e.g. the readers of Cain’s account) can learn from the advice and the mistakes made by those who refused to heed it, thus in that sense it is not futile. Monaghan (2020) objects that a perfect God should not create a person without that person’s consent, because this would be guilty of treating that person disrespectfully. In reply, although there are other situations mentioned by Monaghan whereby not obtaining consent is a sign of disrespect, the situation of giving the person free will (which underlies the ability to give consent itself) is different. It is not disrespectful to give a person the ability to choose, quite the opposite. God shows how much he respects people’s free choice by giving them free will, and in order to give them free will he has to create them. Moreover, Monaghan (2020) himself argues that: if one is to treat a person with respect … this requires one to allow that person to make his or her decisions for him or herself, regardless of whether or not those decisions ultimately turn out to be good ones—indeed, even if one can foresee that they will turn out to be bad ones. (p. 189) As explained already, according to the view I am defending, this is what God did by letting people make decisions for themselves concerning their final destination.

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Although we do not get to choose to come to this world (since this is metaphysically impossible), we do get to choose which next world we go to. Second, many of these people would still have contributed to the good and/or meaningfulness of this world in some ways (e.g. these people might include scientists, composers, or poets whose writings have stimulated others to think about life). Their lives are not entirely worthless and/or meaningless. The creation of these people is part of the prerogative to create a world that matters (see Chapter 9). Third, the person who raises the objection that God should not create those who would suffer would have to bear the burden of proof to show that their nonexistence is better for them than their existence. However, it is difficult (if not impossible) to prove this logically, given that non-existence lacks any value and subject of experience whatsoever, and therefore cannot be regarded as qualitatively superior to existence. That is, it is illogical to say that it is better for X never to exist than to exist, since if X does not exist then there is no X for whom it is better. Thus, the objection would fail in any case. Vitale (2020, pp. 168–9) notes that ‘Those who never come to exist are not wronged because non-existent beings cannot be wronged. Those who do come to exist are not wronged because they could not have existed otherwise and are offered great lives overall.’ It might be objected that the Scripture indicates that it would be better for Judas not to have existed when it says, ‘woe to that man by whom the Son of Man is betrayed! It would have been good for that man if he had not been born’ (Matthew 26:24). In reply, this statement can be interpreted metaphorically rather than literally as an expression of intense suffering; as New Testament scholar Craig Keener observes, the cursing of someone’s birth was a metaphorical lament, common in both ancient Jewish and non-Jewish literature, for the experience of great distress (Keener 1999, p. 626). Fourth, a world in which everybody freely chooses to repent might not be a realistic world. It could be the case that some people need to see the evil caused by those (e.g. Hitler) who stubbornly refuse to repent, before they would realize the depth of depravity of humanity and see their own need to turn to God. Perhaps some people need to know the lives of those people (e.g. Hitler) in order that they would choose not to live their lives like them. Why should God deprive those who would repent of the blessing of existence by not creating humans altogether, simply because there would be others who would freely choose to reject God and not accept his blessing? As noted earlier, according to Scripture those who ultimately suffer would be those who suffer what they deserved as a result of their free choice to sin and refusal to repent, and God is not being unloving or unjust towards them. To let consideration of their deserved suffering hinder God from creating altogether and thereby depriving others (i.e. those who would receive salvation by grace) of eternal blessing and meaningful life and reward in heaven which they deserved for their good works would be unloving and unjust towards those who would have received his salvation. (This does not mean God must create [since creation is a free choice for God], rather it means that consideration of those who would freely choose to reject salvation should not be regarded as a valid reason not to create.)

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What is truly remarkable is that, in order to make the greatest blessing available for humankind, God himself was willing to suffer as well, in the person of Jesus on the Cross. He went through all those troubles, so that people could be blessed forever if they are willing.

5.4 The consequences of sin: retribution According to traditional Christian theology, humans have wronged God (i.e. sinned) badly. For we have hurt our fellow-creatures (God’s creatures) badly, and failed to worship God properly; we have misused the life which God gave us (Swinburne 2007, pp. 81–2). Given that God is holy and righteous and the enforcer of cosmic justice, he will punish people who choose to sin and refuse to repent (Exodus 32:10–11; John 3:19–21). In Scripture, the word ‘wrath’ (Greek orge-) is often used to characterize God’s holy anger against sin and the judgement that results. Scripture affirms that the wicked deserve punishment (Romans 1:32; Hebrews 10:29) and ascribes to God retribution for sins (Romans 11:9; 12:19) (Craig 2018, p. 68). Retribution (Hebrew naqam, Greek ekdike-sis) refers to giving people what they deserved. A perfectly just judge would not leave any sin unpunished, and this is grounded on what the sin deserves. This assumes a retributive theory of justice which contrasts with consequentialist theories. The latter hold that punishment is justified by the good ends it can help to achieve, such as deterrence of crime, sequestration of dangerous persons, and reformation of wrongdoers (Craig 2018, p. 67). Although popular in the first half of the twentieth century, consequentialist theories have since faded, accompanied by a renaissance of theories of retributive justice (p. 68). Walen (2020) notes that the main problem with consequentialism is that it has difficulty explaining why one should not inflict disproportionately large punishments on those who have done little wrong, especially if inflicting such punishments can help to deter future crime and achieve the best effects overall. Given such ‘disproportionate punishment’ conflicts with our intuition concerning justice according to which punishment should be proportionate, consequentialism fails to recognize what our intuition recognizes as injustice, hence consequentialism is problematic. On the other hand, ‘this limitation to proportional punishment is central to retributivism’ (Walen 2020). The Scripture mentions ‘retribution’ on both unbelievers and believers (e.g. Psalm 99:8: ‘O LORD our God, You answered them; You were a forgiving God to them, and yet an avenger of their evil deeds’). Even though believers have been forgiven by God and are assured of their eternal destiny with him (John 3:16), they still have to face certain consequences of sin. For example, even though David was said to have been forgiven by God after committing adultery, he still suffered the consequence of losing his first child with Bathsheba (2 Samuel 12:13–14). Likewise, a murderer would be forgiven by God if he confesses his sins (1 John 1:9), but he would still have to be punished under the law of the state. The Old Testament laws indicate that some sins are more serious than others and hence deserving of more severe punishment. Nevertheless all sins are sin and

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deserving of punishment. Since God is the Greatest Good and the source of all Good, to choose to draw away from God would be an evil act, and the punishment for sin will eventually bring about suffering (note: the point here concerns how suffering began in human history; it does not imply that all cases of suffering are due to sin. The other causes of suffering are explained in the rest of this book). Sin causes feelings of guilt and fears of getting caught; it causes people to hide from God as Adam and Eve did (Genesis 3:8). It also results in distortion of truths concerning God and morality, self-deception, and moral indifference (Matthew 7:3; Romans 1:21; 1 Thessalonians 4:2). Living their lives apart from God, people experience emptiness and frustration. Many try to fill their spiritual emptiness by pursuing the pleasures of this world as their ultimate goal. However, this does not bring lasting satisfaction; on the contrary, it has led many into bondage by sin, such as bondage to greed, gambling, smoking, alcoholism, lust, and so on. These result in further destruction of their lives and their relationships with others, and bring about even more suffering. (Another consequence of sin is the corruption of human nature, see the discussion on Original Sin in Chapter 6.) Ansberry (2016, p. 49) notes that: The power of sin is given particular expression in Psalm 36.1–4. Here transgression entices the heart, shapes one’s disposition, clouds one’s perception, blunts one’s intellectual capacity, fosters perverted desires, and generates destructive thoughts, speech and actions. It possesses the capacity to overpower the individual (Ps. 119.133), to breach the walls of the mouth, to infiltrate the heart and to transform one’s allegiances (Ps. 141.3–4). In view of the power of sin, it is not surprising that the psalmists call for YHWH’s protection and deliverance from its force and dominion. Likewise, the Book of Proverbs speaks of the corrupting effects of sin on a person’s rational capacities. Ansberry (2016, p. 53) notes that a particular species of fools (ʾĕwîl) is said to be ‘unable to learn, for their moral perversion and rejection of discipline incapacitates their moral and intellectual equipment (Prov. 1.7; 15.5).’ He elaborates: Proverbs envisions sin as a failure to seek wisdom, a failure to accept discipline and, by implication, a failure to live in accordance with the moral order YHWH has woven into the fabric of the cosmos (Prov. 8.36) … Sin is an embodied phenomenon that warps one’s perception (Prov. 26.12, 26); its nature and desires are illustrated through the way in which particular characters prey on the innocent (Prov. 1.10–14), exploit the helpless (Prov. 13.23; 23.10; 29.7), promote social injustice (Prov. 17.23; 18.5; 19.28; 21.7), destroy interpersonal relationships (Prov. 11.9; 14.21; 25.18), unleash chaos in the household as well as the community (Prov. 11.11; 19.26; 28.24; 29.6, 8) and elicit divine disgust and judgement (Prov. 6.16–19; 16.5). (pp. 54–5)

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The Proverbs also speak about the distortion of desires (e.g. laziness, wickedness; see Proverbs 1:10–14; 4:16–17; 13:2; 21:10, 25) and misplaced desire (e.g. for an adulteress, see Proverbs 7:6–27), with destructive consequences (Ansberry 2016, p. 55). The characterization of sin as a corruption and bondage is likewise emphasized in the New Testament. In the Pauline epistles, the word ‘flesh’ (sarx) is often used to refer to our fallen, corrupted human nature, humanity in its sinfulness and rebellion against God (O’Brien 1999, p. 162). ‘According to Paul, all humans are sinners because they have all sinned and all are under the bondage of the cosmic power called Sin’ (Gombis 2016, p. 109), and ‘the wages of sin is death’ (Romans 6:23a). Three kinds of death are indicated in Scripture. 5.4.1 Death in sin Ephesians 2:1–2 states: You were dead through the trespasses and sins in which you once lived, following the course of this world, following the ruler of the power of the air, the spirit that is now at work among those who are disobedient. Also known as spiritual death, this refers to a state of separation from the source of life (i.e. God) which would eventually result in perishing. Together with ‘the course of this world’ and ‘the ruler of the power of the air, the spirit that is now at work among those who are disobedient,’ sin constitutes the three fundamental problems of humankind mentioned in Ephesians 2. Concerning ‘the course of this world,’ O’Brien (1999, p. 158) comments: The reader’s former lifestyle, was not true freedom but evidence of a fearful bondage to forces over which they had no control, dominated by this present evil age (cf. Gal. 1:4), determined by the powerful influence of societal attitudes, habits, and preferences, which were alien to God and his standards. ‘The power of the air’ refers to the spiritual realm, whereas ‘at work in those who are disobedient’ identifies this ‘spirit’ as the source of ‘evil supernatural activity whereby he exercises a powerful, compelling influence over the lives of men and women’ (O’Brien 1999, pp. 160–1). 5.4.2 Physical death Genesis 3:19: ‘By the sweat of your face you shall eat bread until you return to the ground, for out of it you were taken; you are dust, and to dust you shall return.’ 5.4.3 Condemnation and separation from God after death This is implied by Scriptural passages such as Revelation 2:11 and 20:6, and it is the logical consequence of unforgiven sin.

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5.5 The universality of sin As it is written: ‘There is no one who is righteous, not even one; there is no one who has understanding, there is no one who seeks God. All have turned aside, together they have become worthless; there is no one who shows kindness, there is not even one.’ … all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God. (Romans 3:10–12, 23)

The standard of perfect goodness in Scripture is evidently of a very stringent sort, as shown by the Gospels’ portrayal of Jesus’ teaching that people should love even their enemies and do good to them, his admonitions against lying, hypocrisy, etc., and Paul’s description of perfect love as being patient, kind, not self-seeking, etc. (1 Corinthians 13:4–7). It is noteworthy that, apart from Jesus, none of the prophets, teachers, or ‘heroes of faith’ such as Abraham, Moses, David, Peter, and Paul was ever portrayed as living up to a perfect standard of morality. On the contrary, the authors of the Scriptures revealed their flaws such as lying, adultery, murder, etc. with blatant honesty. The universality of sin is affirmed in various passages in the Old and New Testaments. For example, ‘there is no one who does not sin’ (1 Kings 8:46); ‘no one living is righteous before you’ (Psalm 143:2); ‘Surely there is no one on earth so righteous as to do good without ever sinning’ (Ecclesiastes 7:20). Not attaining to God’s absolute standard of goodness is ‘sin,’ and all humans (except Jesus) were regarded as sinful (Romans 3:23–26). As Jesus said, ‘No one is good except God alone’ (Mark 10:18) (see Chapter 2 concerning description of evil and sin, where it was explained that imperfect attitude is regarded as sin as well). Although a number of Scriptural passages seem to have called people such as Noah and Job blameless (Genesis 6:9; Job 1:1), the original Hebrew word tam’ which is translated ‘blameless’ actually has a range of meanings, such as integrity and wholesomeness of character. It does not mean absolute perfection. Despite its teachings on the universality of sin, Christian theism has traditionally held that sin is not an essential property of being human. As McCall explains: If being sinful is essential to being human, then Christ is either a sinner (and thus himself in need of salvation) or not really human (and thus not able to be our Savior). Either way leads to outright heresy. What Christ reveals to us in the incarnation, however, is that being sinful is not essential to human nature. He was fully and completely human—yet without sin. Sin is not essential to being human. To the contrary, as we shall see shortly, it is a perversion of genuine, authentic, and healthy humanity. (McCall 2019, p. 210) The key is to understand the distinction between common human properties and essential ones. A common human property is one which many or most human beings have, but such a property is not necessarily essential to membership in the kind. For example, the property of living at some time on the surface of the earth is a common property of humans at this moment, but this does not imply that if a

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person were to be born and live in outer space in the future he would thereby not be human (Morris 1989, pp. 115–17). Likewise, sin can be understood as a common property but not an essential property of humans. The so-called doctrine of universality of sin therefore should not be understood as implying that sin is essential to humans. On the contrary, it is possible to be a human yet without sin (that is the important implication of the distinction between common and essential property), although other Scriptural passages such as Jesus’ saying that ‘No one is good except God alone’ (Mark 10:18) would imply that in actuality the only human who is without sin would be God-incarnate (see Loke 2017b, pp. 153–4). Against Romans 3:10 ‘there is no one who seeks God,’ one might ask isn’t it the case that there are many adherents of various religions who evidently seek God? It should be noted that often people are not truly seeking God but what God can give, such as health, wealth, etc. Many are not seeking the Creator of the universe but the idols of their making; not the God of holiness and justice but gods who commit adultery etc. and who would permit them to do likewise in accordance with their desires and lusts. Those who truly seek God are those in whom the Holy Spirit has already begun his work (Loke 2013). Concerning Romans 3:12, ‘there is no one who shows kindness’ (NRSV, NASB: ‘goodness,’ Greek chréstotés), one might protest, ‘But doesn’t helping an old lady cross the road count?’ Paul is speaking from the perspective of God’s absolute goodness, compared with which ‘all our righteous deeds are like a filthy cloth’ (Isaiah 64:6), i.e. tarnished. ‘Who can say, “I have made my heart clean; I am pure from my sin”?’ (Proverbs 20:9). In Scripture the perspective of the absolute good God is often conveyed by ‘in the eyes of the Lord’ or similar phrases. For example, Genesis 6:5: ‘The LORD saw that the wickedness of humankind was great in the earth, and that every inclination of the thoughts of their hearts was only evil continually’ (italics mine). ‘Now the earth was corrupt in God’s sight, and the earth was filled with violence. And God saw that the earth was corrupt; for all flesh had corrupted its ways upon the earth’ (Genesis 6:11–12; italics mine). After the Flood, the continuing corruption of humankind is indicated by the phrase ‘the inclination of the human heart is evil from youth’ (Genesis 8:21). According to the Christian tradition, all moral imperfection is falling short of God’s perfect moral standard and therefore regarded as sin. Even though their sense of what is morally right may differ from one another, most people do recognize that they fall short of even their own standards (let alone God’s standard) of what is morally right at some point in their lives, such as expecting of others what they do not do themselves. Hence, most people do recognize their moral imperfections, although self-deception may prevent some from acknowledging it. ‘If we say that we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us’ (1 John 1:8). It is true that helping an old lady cross the road is better than ‘Hitler killing six million Jews.’ Christian theologians would say that humans are able to do the former because they are created in the image of God, with an understanding of moral law written in their conscience. Even though this image has been damaged as a result of Adam’s sin (see Original Sin discussed in Chapter 6), it is not

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totally obliterated (James 3:9). Paul says, ‘what the law requires is written on their hearts, to which their own conscience also bears witness’ (Romans 2:15). If they do good according to this law (e.g. Cornelius helping others), it will be remembered by God (Acts 10:2–4). Nevertheless, humans often suppress and distort the truth (Romans 1:18–32), their good deeds are tarnished by moral imperfection and do not reach God’s absolute standard of goodness. Hence no one can be justified by doing good works. (According to the author of Acts, even though the good deeds of Cornelius were remembered by God, God did not say that he could be saved by them, but commanded him to look for Peter, and be saved by the Gospel Peter preached.) The failure of human good deeds to reach God’s perfect moral standard can be understood in the following ways. 1. Human motivations are often impure. Often the good deeds are done to soothe the conscience or to gain the praise of people. God looks not only at the outward appearance, but at the heart (1 Samuel 16:7). Although humans often behave well when things are going well, they reveal their true selves when things go wrong; for example, during a power failure in New York, many ‘good citizens’ came out and robbed others (Erickson 1998, pp. 646–7)—citizens who would normally help an old lady cross the road. Langdon Gilkey called our niceness ‘the thin polish of easy morality’ (Gilkey 1966, p. 92). He used to believe that humans were basically good, until he was imprisoned with 2000 others by the Japanese during World War II. He concluded: Nothing indicates so clearly the fixed belief in the innate goodness of humans as does this confidence that when the chips are down, and we are revealed for what we ‘really are,’ we will all be good to each other. Nothing could be so totally in error. (Gilkey 1966, p. 92) Jones notes that: Niceness isn’t goodness. Lending money or possessions to those who lend to us, smiling at neighbors, and baking cookies doesn’t make one good. One horrifying realization about murderers is that they can otherwise be nice. Adolph Eichmann, the administrator at Auschwitz, was a family man who never killed anyone himself; Pol Pot, who orchestrated the killing fields of Cambodia, had a warm smile. When serial killers are caught, their neighbors are often surprised and testify that the killers were nice, even helpful, to those around them. (Jones 2017, p. 68) Many people do not do bad deeds because of fear of getting caught, but Paul would say that their attitudes and intentions are evident to God who sees the heart, and concludes that human good deeds fall short of moral perfection (Romans 3:23). Indeed, very often our moral imperfections are hidden from

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ourselves, and this is indicated by the human tendency to see the faults in others but not in ourselves (‘Why do you see the speck in your neighbour’s eye, but do not notice the log in your own eye?’ Matthew 7:3). Calvin writes that human sin: evades even the most penetrating self-examination. Although their consciences do not condemn them, they are not on that account absolved; for God sees far more clearly than men’s consciences, since even those who look most attentively into themselves, do not perceive a great part of the sins with which they are chargeable. (Calvin, Commentary on the Psalms 19.12) Although often hidden from plain sight, the depth of human depravity has repeatedly surfaced throughout history.3 One thinks of the Holocaust, of the millions of people killed, of: gas chambers, some holding as many as 2000 people at once; of Zyklon-B gas dropped through small openings in the ceilings; of guards who said they knew the victims were dead when the screaming stopped. When the guards opened the doors they found piles of naked men, women, and children in the corners of the rooms. They had climbed on top of each other in attempts to flee the choking clouds. (Jones 2017, p. 51) Although many think that great evil is limited to a few depraved individuals, the truth is that large populations commit heinous evils (Jones 2017, p. 50). ‘Many average Germans, then, may not have actually pulled the trigger or dropped Zyklon-B into the gas chambers, but they knew Hitler wanted to kill the Jews long before they brought him to power’ (p. 52). Major concentration camps like Dachau, Buchenwald, and Auschwitz had thousands of subcamps supported by countless administrators, typists, rail workers, policemen, truck drivers, and factory workers who knew what was going on—and their families knew as well (p. 52). Moreover, it is not just the Germans but people around the world who have been involved in atrocities. The Rape of Nanking is one of the many examples of massacres carried out by Japanese militarists in the twentieth century, killing 40,000–300,000 Chinese over a period of six weeks in 1937: The Rape of Nanking should be remembered not only for the number of people slaughtered but for the cruel manner in which many met their deaths. Chinese men were used for bayonet practice and in decapitation contests. An estimated 20,000–80,000 Chinese women were raped. Many soldiers went beyond rape to disembowel women, slice off their breasts, nail them alive to walls. Fathers were forced to rape their daughters, and sons their mothers, as other family members watched. Not only did live burials, castration, the carving of organs, and the roasting of people become routine, but more diabolical tortures were practiced, such as hanging people by their tongues on

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iron hooks or burying people to their waists and watching them get torn apart by German shepherds. (Chang 2011, p. 6) An estimated 10 million Chinese were killed during the Sino-Japanese War (1937–45).4 One might think that the Chinese people were innocent. The truth is that when they had the power, the Chinese people—including those who heroically fought against the Japanese invaders— themselves killed more Chinese people; under the Chinese communists, some 26–30 million Chinese ‘counterrevolutionaries’ were killed from 1949 to 1976.5 Those who were killed by the Japanese might well have done the same, had they survived and had the power to do so. Likewise more Russians were killed by fellow Russians than by the Germans in the twentieth century: The number of people killed or who died in camps in the Soviet Union from 1917 to 1989 is conservatively somewhere between 20 to 26 million … in 1994, the Hutus decimated Rwanda by killing 800,000 Tutsis in about 100 days, largely by machete … Ottoman Turkey’s Young Turks killed approximately 1.2 million Armenians from 1915 to 1923 … In Cambodia, between 1975 and 1979, Pol Pot’s Khmer Rouge killed 1.7 to 2.2 million Cambodians out of a total population of about 7 million … the Guatemalan army killed ‘tens of thousands’ of Mayan Indians in the 1980s and early 1990s … In 1971, Pakistani soldiers ‘killed, disabled, raped, or displaced’ 3 million Bangladeshis … In Argentina, from 1976–1983, tens of thousands disappeared and were systematically tortured, then drugged, stripped naked, and thrown out of airplanes into the ocean. (Jones 2017, Chapter 2) After reviewing the above data from around the world, Jones concludes that: human cruelty knows no bounds. I could go on and on and on with one sickening story after another, but you get the idea. People often call such activity inhuman. But, sadly, none of this is inhuman. This is what humans do. (Jones 2017, p. 55) It was ordinary people, like you and me, who carried out the plans of the ‘Hitlers and Stalins’; ordinary people who provided the intelligence, the brain power, the quiet sustained effort, the plain hard work it takes to carry out huge programs of murderous action (Katz 1993). ‘The heart is devious above all else; it is perverse—who can understand it?’ (Jeremiah 17:9). 2. The moral value of a person’s deeds needs to be evaluated in light of the person’s relationships and ultimate purpose in life. It has been explained previously that the most important relationship for humans is to be rightly connected with the source of all goodness, i.e. God, and that the ultimate purpose in life should be to live for the greatest good, i.e. God. Any ‘good deeds’ that are done

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by people who are not in a right relationship with God are therefore (perhaps unknown to them and perhaps unintentionally) done in a state of moral imperfection with an imperfect purpose, and hence done in sin. They are done under the violation of the Greatest Commandment which is to love God with all our hearts, with all our souls, and with all our minds (Matthew 22:37). 3. God does not evaluate a person’s moral status based on particular acts alone, but the entirety of the person’s life. According to Scripture, no one (except the God-man Jesus) is perfect from birth to death; ‘all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God’ (Romans 3:23). That is why no one can save himself; all are in the state of perishing and need ‘the redemption that is in Christ Jesus’ (Romans 3:24).

Notes 1 I thank Harold Leong for suggesting this. 2 Houck’s (2020, pp. 206–7) suggestion that humanity originated as a large community which included Adam and that other humans sinned before Adam sinned goes against Paul’s claim in Romans 5:12–21. Houck responds by arguing that Paul’s claim does not exclude humans sinning before Adam because Houck claims that Eve sinned freely before Adam sinned. However, Houck’s claim does not consider the response given here in the text, viz. Adam could have been there giving consent; thus Houck’s argument concerning Paul’s claim is unwarranted. 3 I am indebted to Jones (2017) in what follows. 4 www.hawaii.edu/powerkills/NOTE2.HTM. 5 Ibid.

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Original Sin

6.1 Motivation for the doctrine A traditional Christian explanation for the universality of sin is the doctrine of Original Sin.1 This doctrine and its implications have been understood in various ways. A common understanding is that it is a congenital state that renders evil deeds inevitable; ‘we commit sins because we are already sinners’ (McFarland 2016, p. 303). Although this doctrine has been dismissed by many since the Enlightenment, others have argued that it is the doctrine for which we have the most evidence in support; in particular, it has been argued that the evidences for the universality of sin are best explained by the doctrine of Original Sin. Look at the newspapers daily, and we would see that killing, raping, stealing, child abuse, etc. can be found in all countries among all people. Look at human history, and we would realize that humans are capable of the most horrendous evils. Gilkey remarks: when one looks at the actual social behavior of people, this theological notion of a common, pervasive warping of our wills away from the good we wish to achieve is more descriptive of our actual experience of ourselves than is any other assessment of our situation. What the doctrine of sin has said about man’s present state seemed to fit the facts as I found them. (Gilkey 1966, pp. 115–16) Against the optimism concerning humanity which is found in many Enlightenment thinkers, Kant acknowledged that there is a radical evil in human nature, that is, ‘all human beings have a propensity to subordinate the moral law to self-interest and that this propensity is radical, or rooted, in human nature in the sense that it is inextirpable’ (Calder 2018, citing Kant’s [1793/1960] Religion Within the Limits of Reason Alone, Book I). Many postmodernists would argue that the history subsequent to Kant has vindicated his view against those optimistic Modernists. The Totalitarianism which emerged from Modernist movements brought great tragedies to humankind such as the Holocaust, leading to the emergence of Postmodernism in opposition to Modernism following the Second World War. Calder observes that: DOI: 10.4324/9781003265689-6

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Original Sin several philosophers have argued that Kant’s thoughts on radical evil offer important insights into the nature of evil. For example, Paul Formosa argues that Kant’s reflections on radical evil draw our attention to the fact that even the best of us can revert to evil, and thus, that we must be constantly vigilant against the radical evil of our natures. (Calder 2018, citing Formosa 2007. See also Bernstein 2002 and Goldberg 2017)2

Although the evidence for the doctrine of Original Sin is widely accepted in the history of Christian thought, the precise understanding of the doctrine has been controversial, and this will be addressed shortly. At this point, it is important to note the distinction between the fact of sin and the how of sin (Rusbult 2008): the fact that each human being is a sinner who needs a Saviour is a central claim of Christian theology, and this is true regardless of how one explains this fact.

6.2 The Augustine-Pelagian controversy Many have thought that Augustine’s ‘triumph’ over Pelagius in the fifth century established the traditional orthodox Christian understanding of the doctrine of Original Sin. However, it should be noted that Augustine’s view differed significantly from that of many earlier church fathers (and, as I shall explain in Section 6.4, from Scripture as well), and hence cannot be regarded as ‘the’ traditional view. Moreover, many theologians after the fifth century felt uncomfortable with Augustine’s view and raised objections, hence the ‘triumph’ of Augustine is questionable. McFarland (2016, p. 306) notes that: Though Augustine’s influence led to Pelagius’ condemnation (in absentia) at a local council in Carthage in 411, he had a much less hostile reception in the East, where he attended and was exonerated of heresy at a council in Diospolis (Lydda) in 415. Moreover, although ‘the doctrines of Caelestius’ (Pelagius’ seemingly more extreme follower) were explicitly condemned at the Council of Ephesus in 431, Pelagius himself was not. On the other hand, the view of Pelagius—at least as understood by Augustine— was highly problematic as well. Whereas the early church fathers emphasized human free will in their response to the problem of evil (see Chapter 3), Pelagius emphasized human free will to such an extent that he taught that Adam was merely a bad example and that human beings sin by imitating Adam’s example (Pelagius, Commentary on Paul’s Epistle to the Romans; de Bruyn 1993, pp. 92, 95). Pelagius insisted that, after Adam sinned, humans can still freely choose the good and can be justified and saved by their good works, and that God’s election of people unto salvation is based on his foreknowledge of their moral behaviour (Commentary on Romans; On the Possibility of not Sinning, 2). McFarland (2016, p. 306) explains that:

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While the precise features of Pelagius’ thought continue to be debated, Augustine understood him to teach that human beings could avoid sin by their own efforts. If this were true, Augustine argued, then Christ could not without qualification be proclaimed as Saviour of all, since it was at least logically possible that some human beings earned salvation by their own merit, by making use of their God-given freedom to avoid sin. It was Augustine’s contention that this conclusion undermined the heart of the Christian faith: that all without distinction need to look to Christ for their salvation. Augustine therefore rejected Pelagius’ view. Augustine thought that before Adam sinned he had the freedom to choose good (freedom to sin and not to sin [posse peccare, posse non peccare]),3 after Adam sinned humans cannot freely choose not to sin (non posse non peccare), after a human is born again, he/she can trust God and not choose to sin (posse non peccare), and in the eternal state he/she is unable to sin (non posse peccare) (Augustine, Enchiridion, Chapter 118; De Correptione et Gratia XII.33; De Civitate Dei XXII.30). Whereas many have thought that Augustine’s doctrine was harsh, Couenhoven (2016, p. 197) argues that: his doctrine of sin was meant not merely to condemn but to diagnose our condition … Unlike his theological opponents—moral elitists who believed that only a select few could purify themselves—Augustine trusted that by grace salvation is open to the many. Because the linchpin of his theology was divine forgiveness. Augustine’s emphasis on the grace of God might have been related to his own experiences. Before his conversion he lived a very depraved and lustful life and hence he was well aware that a person cannot be saved by his good deeds but only by grace alone. Nevertheless, in his controversy with Pelagius, Augustine moved to an opposite extremist position, as we shall see.

6.3 Different understandings of Original Sin Augustine’s understanding of Original Sin includes at least the following ten facets (adapted from Noble and Berry 2009, pp. 108–9; I have rearranged the sequence): 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

An original act of sin by Adam. Original Guilt: we share in the legal guilt for Adam’s sin. Original Sin as a ‘disease’ that results in an inclination to evil. Disordered and misdirected desires. The self-centred mindset. Subjection to physical decay, disease, and death. Original Sin as hereditary sinfulness.

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8 Propagated through sexual desire: Augustine claims that the mechanism of inheritance was in the lust of the father which preceded every human birth; this casts a slur on sexual relations. The propagation results in: 9 The universality of sin, and 10 Corporate sin: humanity’s corporate solidarity in sinfulness. Facet 8 (the view that Original Sin is propagated through sexual desire) is widely rejected today, and is scientifically implausible given the possibility of human cloning which can be done by scientists without ‘the lust of the father.’ Broadly speaking, the other nine facets can be discussed under two categories: 1

2

Original Guilt: All human beings (except, at most, four, i.e. Adam, Eve, Jesus, and [according to Roman Catholics] Mary) are guilty from birth in the eyes of God, and this guilt is a consequence of the first sin of the first man. Original Corruption: All human beings (except, at most, four) suffer from a kind of corruption that makes it very likely or inevitable that they will fall into sin, and this corruption is a consequence of the first sin of the first man (the definitions are modified from Rea [2007]; Rea includes both under Original Sin for the convenience of exposition of his article).

Different theologians hold different views with regards to Original Guilt and Original Corruption (as well as the extent of the corruption). McCall (2019, Chapter 4) helpfully outlines the options as follows. A. (Merely) Symbolic and Existentialist Interpretations: these views deny that there is Original Guilt and/or Original Corruption resulting from the sin of the first man. McFarland (2016, p. 310) notes that: Beginning with Søren Kierkegaard in the nineteenth century, a number of prominent theologians (including Paul Tillich and Reinhold Niebuhr) have attempted to defend the doctrine of original sin without positing a primordial act of disobedience by the first human beings. According to this perspective, the fall is not a singular event in the past, but rather describes the situation of every human being: all of us are confronted with the temptation to deny our finitude, and we all succumb to it. While acknowledging Adam as the first human to rebel against God, Barth rejects Original Guilt and Original Corruption because he thinks that these views are deterministic and absolve human responsibility. Instead he advances an alternative conception of Original Sin (Ursünde) which rests upon the idea that God sees, addresses, and treats humanity as a unity on account of the disobedience that is universal (Nimmo 2016, pp. 293–4). On Barth’s view Adam was simply the first among equals, and not someone who passes on sin as corruption (Barth 1936–1977, IV/1, p. 508). In accordance with prophetic testimony, humans who came after Adam are those who freely chose to sin and are represented by Adam as a sign, but they are guilty for their own sin

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and not for Adam’s (p. 510). Barth concludes, ‘in the person and deed of Adam, God has judged and condemned the whole of humanity, the whole history of the world, all of us as concluded in disobedience’ (p. 512). B. Corruption-Only view. C. Corruption and Guilt: Federalism: Adam represented humanity in sinning, imputing his guilt onto the rest of humanity. D. Corruption and Guilt: Realism: all humanity are in some kind of metaphysical unity with Adam and hence should be judged guilty as he. E. Corruption and Guilt: Mediate Views: this view holds that ‘we are both corrupted by original sin and guilty for it—but that the sin for which we are guilty is not exactly the sin of Adam.’ (McCall 2019, p. 170) As will be explained in greater detail, the rejection of both Original Guilt and Original Corruption by the Symbolic and Existentialist Interpretations is not the view of traditional Christian theology. Thus the Symbolic and Existentialist Interpretations will not be discussed in detail in this book which focuses on the response to the problem of evil and sin from the perspective of traditional Christian theology. The Corruption-Only view can be found in the early church fathers and the contemporary Orthodox Church. Louth (2020, p. 84) distinguishes ‘ancestral sin’ (προπατορικὴ ἁμαρτία), which is the terminology used by Eastern Orthodox theologians, from the term ‘Original Sin’ (peccatum originale) as used by Latin Western theologians after Augustine and the Pelagian controversy. ‘Ancestral sin’ affirms that humans live in a cosmos that is disrupted due to ‘the cosmic disaster that Adam’s sin has caused, because by sinning and severing his link with God, the cosmic role of the human has been broken and the cosmos reduced to a ruined state’ (p. 87, citing Athanasius). Thereafter humans are born into a web of sin (the accumulated sin, and its consequences, of all our forefathers and foremothers) and find ourselves, inexorably, participating in this web of sin which has eroded whatever examples of good conduct we might have had and corrupted our societies and customs. Nevertheless, Louth’s affirmation that we find ourselves inexorably participating in this ‘web of sin’ seems to be in tension with his claim that ‘our ingrained tendency to sin does not deprive human beings of free will, although to seek goodness under such conditions is a matter of unremitting struggle’ (p. 86). Crisp objects that the Orthodox view which Louth puts forward does not explain ‘how the Orthodox doctrine of ancestral sin can avoid the traditional Augustinian objection that it leaves conceptual room for the existence of someone that is, for all practical purposes, without sin’ (Crisp 2020, p. 148). Augustine affirmed Original Guilt, stating that ‘by the evil will of that one man all sinned in him, since all were that one man, from whom, therefore, they individually derived original sin’ (Augustine, On Marriage and Concupiscence, Bk. 2, Ch. 15; see also A Treatise on the Merits and Forgiveness of Sins, and the Baptism of Infants, 1.8–11). He also affirmed Original Corruption and understood this as an addition of an element of wickedness to the human nature:

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Original Sin Man’s nature, indeed, was created at first faultless and without any sin; but that nature of man in which everyone is born from Adam, now wants the Physician, because it is not sound. All good qualities, no doubt, which it still possesses in its make, life, senses, intellect, it has of the most High God, its Creator and Maker. But the flaw, which darkens and weakens all those natural goods, so that it has need of illumination and healing, it has not contracted from its blameless Creator—but from that original sin, which it committed by free will. (On Nature and Grace, Chapter 3; in Augustine 1999, p. 122)

An alternative view of Original Corruption was proposed by Anselm, who regarded the corruption not as an addition of an element of wickedness to the human nature, but as the loss of a certain kind of grace (see Anselm’s The Virgin Conception and Original Sin; Houck 2020). Since Adam’s sin, the whole of humankind has been in alienation from God who is the source of perfect goodness, and this resulted in him and his posterity being deprived of perfect goodness. Many Eastern Orthodox theologians regard Original Sin as the loss of the immediate presence of the Holy Spirit (Harakas 1983, p. 81). This results in the entrance of death and the diminishing of human moral likeness to God, but humans retained the ability to cooperate with God—albeit imperfectly. Developing the view of Irenaeus (Against Heresies IV:38), a number of theologians have argued that the original created nature of humankind was subjected to death (Harris 2013, p. 156), hence always dependent on the immediate presence of God for immortality. Contrary to the Eastern Orthodox view, Jonathan Edwards interprets the results of the removal of original graces more strongly in terms of humans becoming entirely corrupt and bent on sinning against God. After the Reformation, a number of reformed theologians developed the first viewpoint and proposed that Adam represented us when he sinned, whereas Christ represented us in his justification. Hence the guilt of Adam was imputed to us, whereas the righteousness of Christ was imputed to believers (Turretin 1992, p. 616; Berkhof 1953, pp. 242–3). This teaching of Original Guilt is enshrined in the Westminster Confession: ‘They [our first parents] being the root of all mankind, the guilt of this sin was imputed; and the same death in sin, and corrupted nature, conveyed to all their posterity descending from them by ordinary generation’ (6.3). Nevertheless, Crisp observes that earlier confessions such as the Scots Confession (1560), the Belgic Confession (1561), and the Thirty-Nine Articles of Religion (1563), as well as the sixteenth-century reformers Huldrych Zwingli and John Calvin, all elaborate a doctrine of Original Sin without Original Guilt (Crisp 2020, p. 43). Zwingli did not hold to Original Guilt but speaks of Original Sin as a disease and condition of slavery (Zwingli 1983, p. 40). Likewise, the element of imputation of Adam’s guilt to his descendants is missing from Calvin’s definition of Original Sin and denied subsequently: Original sin, then, may be defined as the hereditary corruption and depravity of our nature … For when it is said, that the sin of Adam has made us

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obnoxious to the justice of God, the meaning is not, that we, who are in ourselves innocent and blameless, are bearing his guilt. (Institutes of the Christian Religion, II.i.8) Rather, his view is that Adam’s descendants are guilty for their own sins and their own nature. Theologians who hold to different understandings of Original Sin B, C, D, and E all claim Scripture as the basis of their understanding. The relevant Scriptural passages will now be examined.

6.4 On the Scriptural passages which have been cited as the basis for the doctrine of Original Sin Although the Garden of Eden story in Genesis 3 has been traditionally regarded as a cornerstone for the Christian doctrine of the Fall and Original Sin, this understanding has been disputed by a number of Old Testament scholars because the passage has no words for sin, evil, transgression, disobedience, guilt, etc. (Barr 1992, p. 6). For example, Mark Smith argues that Genesis 3 does not characterize the eating of the fruit as evil or sin, but only offers a theory of what will later come to be known as sin (Smith 2019, p. 60). Other Old Testament scholars respond that this type of argument is problematic, because: the existence of the referent or concept is not limited to the presence of certain vocabulary. Indeed, God’s question in Genesis 3:11, ‘Have you eaten of the tree of which I commanded you not to eat?’ (compare v. 17), could hardly be improved upon as a description of ‘disobedience.’ (Collins 2006, p. 155) Against the idea that Original Corruption was passed down from Adam, Smith (2019, Chapter 7) claims that evil is not the only outcome of Genesis 3, arguing that, although Cain and Abel are both descendants of Adam and Eve, they had very different approaches to the worship of God. In reply, first, it should be noted that none of the Biblical narratives are supposed to be a complete record of events. Thus, the fact that Genesis 4 does not portray Abel sinning does not imply that he was morally perfect, nor does it deny that Abel worshipped God correctly because of prevenient grace (see Section 6.5.6). Second, although the early chapters of Genesis do not contain the basis of a full-fledged doctrine of Original Sin, they do not deny it either. The Christian doctrine of progressive revelation affirms that Scriptural passages written later can elaborate and clarify the accounts in earlier Scriptural passages. It has been objected that the Old Testament does not support the claim that all humans are burdened with Original Corruption (a flawed human nature) as the result of the first transgression, and that not until the Jewish writings from the early second century BC onwards is the sin of the first couple said to be passed on to succeeding generations (Crenshaw 2011, p. 141).4

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Nevertheless, a number of earlier texts in the Old Testament do speak of the universality of sin (e.g. Psalm 130:3: ‘If you, O LORD, should mark iniquities, Lord, who could stand?’) as well as the universality of the moral corruption of humanity (e.g. Genesis 8:21: ‘for the inclination of the human heart is evil from youth’). As Sklar (2016, pp. 11–12) observes, ‘the phrase “from (min) youth/childhood (naʿar)” can be used to describe the beginning of a person’s existence, as in the phrase “from youth/ childhood unto old age” (Josh. 6.21), that is, from the beginning of life to its end.’ Thus Genesis 8:21 implies that the problem is already there from our earliest days; ‘Adam and Eve’s descendants do not need to be taught how to do wrong; it comes quite naturally from within’ (p. 12). According to passages such as Psalms 51:5 and 53:1–3, humans have become corrupted and ‘suffer from congenital sinfulness; their faculties are incapacitated by sin’ (Ansberry 2016, pp. 46–7). ‘Thus one does not need to wait until Paul to find a doctrine of the fall or original sin; the early chapters of Genesis already provide evidence for them’ (Sklar 2016, p. 11). In line with the doctrine of progressive revelation, it can be argued that later Scriptural passages such as Romans 5:12–21 make sense of these passages in the Old Testament by providing an explicit explanation for the universality of corruption. While acknowledging that Romans 5:12–21 explains the universality of corruption of humanity, many Reformed theologians have also interpreted this passage along with 1 Corinthians 15:21–22 to support their federal headship view that Adam represented humanity in sinning, imputing his guilt onto the rest of humanity (Berkhof 1953, pp. 242–3). On this view, moral corruption is one of the penal consequences of God’s judgement in response to our Original Guilt in Adam (Madueme 2020, p. 27). A closer look at the Scriptures however indicates that the support for the federal headship view is lacking. Concerning 1 Corinthians 15:21–22, ‘For as by a man came death, by a man has come also the resurrection of the dead. For as in Adam all die, so also in Christ shall all be made alive,’ Craig (2020) observes that the context of this passage (particularly verses 45–49) associates human mortality with the creation of Adam, not with his fall: Thus it is written, ‘The first man Adam became a living being’; the last Adam became a life-giving spirit. But it is not the spiritual which is first but the physical (psychikos), and then the spiritual. The first man was from the earth, a man of dust; the second man is from heaven. As was the man of dust, so are those who are of the dust; and as is the man of heaven, so are those who are of heaven. Just as we have borne the image of the man of dust, we shall also bear the image of the man of heaven (I Corinthians 15: 45–49). Fee (1987, p. 789) comments that: The first Adam, who became a living psyche- was thereby given a psychikos body at creation, a body subject to decay and death … The last Adam, on the other hand, whose ‘spiritual (glorified) body’ was given at his resurrection … is himself the source of the pneumatikos life as well as the pneumatikos body.

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The phrase ‘as was the man of dust’ alludes to Adam’s creation in Genesis 2. This supports the interpretation that Adam was created mortal, requiring sustenance by eating from the Tree of Life in the Garden in order to live forever (cf. Genesis 3:22) (Day 2013, pp. 45–6, noting that this is ‘the majority scholarly view nowadays’ among Old Testament scholars). Therefore, this passage does not support the federal headship view that Adam represented humanity in sinning and imputing his guilt onto the rest of humanity. Rather, this passage is saying that ‘in virtue of sharing a common human nature with Adam we share in his natural mortality’ (Craig 2020). Concerning Romans 5:12–21, I shall argue that it can be interpreted as saying that Adam’s sin corrupted human nature and that his descendants invariably choose to act in accordance to their corrupted desires, thus sinning and rendering themselves culpable to condemnation. On this interpretation, humans are not judged guilty because Adam’s sin was imputed on them, rather humans are judged guilty because of their own sins which were the result of corrupted desires and their own choice. Thus, in this sense, ‘humans do not die simply because of Adam’s sin, but because of Adam’s sin and their own sin’ (Witherington III 2004, p. 147). Romans 5:12 states that ‘Therefore, just as sin [Greek hamartia] came into the world [kosmos] through one man, and death came through sin, and so death spread to all because all have sinned [he-marton].’ In this passage, sin (the Greek noun hamartia) can refer to a morally corrupting power (Dunn 1988, p. 275; see the description of sin in Romans 7 discussed in Section 6.5.6), and the Greek word translated as ‘world’ (kosmos) can refer to the human race. ‘Sinned’ (the verb he-marton) refers to the act of sinning; I shall call this ‘actual sin’ to distinguish it from moral corruption. ‘Death’ refers to condemnation and separation from God, as indicated by the context which contrasts ‘death’ with ‘eternal life’ (v. 21) and uses ‘condemnation’ in the same way as ‘death’ is used here (vv. 16, 18) (Moo 1996, p. 320; cf. Murray 1959, pp. 181–2). Craig (2020) argues that: It would be outlandish to think that each person is born physically immortal and then by sinning brings physical mortality upon himself … The only sense in which physical death might be seen as a consequence of sin is indirect: it is a consequence of Adam and Eve’s expulsion from the Garden, cutting off any hope of immortality, symbolized by the Tree of Life. As Day nicely phrases it, ‘What has happened is that they have missed out on a chance of immortality.’ (citing Day 2013, p. 46) Croasmun (2017, p. 2) has suggested that ‘Sin’ in Romans 5 is a cosmic power which is an emergent feature of a vast human network and this power is real and personal, and not merely a personification (as Dunn argues). However, Croasmun seems to have read modern emergentist philosophy into the text (eisegesis), claiming that ‘this question could not be solved exegetically—that is, historically or philologically … We inevitably rely on our “understanding of the subject

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matter” as a key to decode when an author is writing literally or figuratively’ (p. 102). There is no historical evidence that Paul held to an emergentist view of sin. On the other hand, it is evident (and Croasmun recognizes) that Paul affirmed moral and spiritual corruption and (like other ancient Jews) used the literary device of personification. Indeed, as Witherington III (2004, p. 150) observes, Paul uses personification for grace ‘reigning’ in contrast with sin ‘reigning’ in Romans 5:21. Thus it is more plausible to think that Paul is personifying sin (understood as a corrupting power). Commenting on Romans 5:12, although some have claimed that it is the corrupted ‘sin nature’ which is the cause of death, Moo (1996, p. 325) objects that there is little evidence that the verb he-marton in Romans 5:12 can denote the possession of sin nature. Although Romans 5:12 speaks of ‘death by sin (hamartia),’ it is the act of sin (he-marton) which results in death. We can understand this as saying that corruption entered through Adam and passed on to other humans, hence contributing to their actual sins which result in their condemnation and separation from God (Witherington III 2004, p. 147l cf. Romans 6:23, ‘for the wages of sin is death’). It has been objected that, if this is what Paul meant, he should use the present participle (hamartanousin) for ‘sinning’ rather than the aorist (he-marton) (Erickson 1998, p. 653). In reply, Paul’s use of the aorist fits with his use of the aorist for ‘passed’ (die-lthen) to emphasize what had already happened, viz. that humans who were presently alive had sinned and were already in the state of death. Against the view that Paul assumes a corrupted human nature as the ‘middle term’ which connects Adam’s sin and the condemnation of all humans, Moo (1996, pp. 325–6) objects that Paul has given us little basis for this assumption. In response, this assumption make sense of other passages in Romans which speak of humans being controlled by sin (6:6) and slaves to sin (6:16) and also the description of sin in Romans 7 (see Section 6.5.6), and fits with Paul’s Jewish background as indicated by the Old Testament passages which affirm universal corruption (e.g. Genesis 8:21; Psalm 51:4–5; Section 6.5.2). It has been argued that, because the Latin Vulgate wrongly translated the Greek eph’ ho- (‘because of’) as ‘within,’ Augustine (Against Two Epistles of the Pelagians 4.4.7) wrongly interpreted verse 12 as saying that all humans are in Adam and sinned in him (Wiley 2002, p. 51). Others object that the Latin in quo (in the state of) can mean ‘in that’ and is an acceptable translation of the Greek, and Augustine’s taking in quo to refer back to unum hominem is ‘Augustine’s misconstrual of the Latin, not a mistake in the Latin translation’ (Louth 2020, pp. 88–9). In any case Augustine’s view is not supported by the text.5 Romans 5:13–14 says: Sin was indeed in the world before the law, but sin is not reckoned when there is no law. Yet death exercised dominion from Adam to Moses, even over those whose sins were not like the transgression of Adam, who is a type of the one who was to come.

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Here, law (nomos) refers to the Mosaic law. By saying that ‘sin is not reckoned when there is no law,’ Paul is not saying that people living from Adam to Moses were not accountable at all. Rather Paul’s point is that sin was not considered as the breaching of the Law of Moses before Moses came, but it brought along death nevertheless because sin was still sinful (e.g. Cain’s killing of Abel was condemned by God before the giving of the Mosaic Law). Even for those who did not receive a commandment from God as a result of Special Revelation (as Adam and Moses did),6 they were still accountable because of the moral law written in their hearts (Romans 2).7 As Schreiner (2014, p. 280) observes: The word ‘perish’ (ἀπολοῦνται) denotes, as is typically the case in Paul, final judgment and destruction. Gentiles who did not know or possess the Mosaic law were judged for violating the law inscribed on their hearts (2:14–15) … For he clearly says in 2:12 that those without the law perish because they violate the law written on their hearts.8 This transgression is also indicated in Romans 1:18–32, where humans are said to ‘know God’s decree, that those who practice such things deserve to die—yet they not only do them but even applaud others who practice them.’ Whereas Romans 5:12–14 could be construed by a Pelagian to say that death spread to all because all without exception sinned individually, the Pelagian interpretation is contrary to verses 15–19 which state that death and condemnation are the portion of all human beings because of Adam’s one sin (Schreiner 2014, p. 275). In particular, verses 15–19 say, ‘For if the many died through the one man’s trespass’ (v. 15), ‘For the judgement following one trespass brought condemnation’ (v. 16; Greek: τὸ μὲν γὰρ κρίμα ἐξ ἑνὸς εἰς κατάκριμα: for the judgement is from one to condemnation), ‘If, because of the one man’s trespass, death exercised dominion through that one’ (v. 17), ‘one man’s trespass led to condemnation for all’ (v. 18), ‘For just as by the one man’s disobedience the many were made sinners’ (v. 19). These passages imply that it is not merely the case (as Barth says) that we freely sinned such that ‘in the person and deed of Adam, God has judged and condemned the whole of humanity, the whole history of the world, all of us as concluded in disobedience’ (Barth 1936–1977, IV/1, p. 512). Rather, these passages are saying that Adam’s sin is in some ways causally (but not necessarily deterministically, see Section 6.5.6) related to our acts of sinning and the resultant condemnation. On the basis of these passages, Schreiner concludes that ‘people sin and die both because of Adam’s sin and their own sin, though the sin of Adam is fundamental and foundational’ (Schreiner 2014, p. 280). He takes this conclusion to imply the federal headship view. However, this conclusion is also consistent with the Original Corruption view and verses 15–19 can be interpreted in a similar manner to the aforementioned interpretation of Romans 5:12, i.e. because of Adam’s sin, sin as corruption entered humanity and humans invariably choose to act in accordance to their corrupted desires, thus sinning and rendering themselves culpable to condemnation.

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6.5 How should ‘Original Sin’ be understood? 6.5.1 Rejection of Original Guilt As noted previously, there are different understandings of the doctrine of Original Sin among Christian theologians. The view that ‘All human beings (except, at most, four) are guilty from birth in the eyes of God, and this guilt is a consequence of the first sin of the first man’ (Original Guilt) is unwarranted and is contrary to the principle of justice that we should not be judged guilty for what we are not responsible for. A Federalist might reply that we do know of cases whereby person X is held responsible for the actions of person Y because Y represents X, for example, in the case of a politician representing a nation. However, in such cases, the roles of the representatives: depend on having a political mandate granted by the nation, or the voters, that they represent. There is no such arrangement with respect to Adam. We did not authorize our first parents … If someone represents us without authorization, we would normally think this unjust. (Crisp 2020, p. 41) A number of theologians have argued that all humanity are in some kind of metaphysical unity with Adam and hence should be judged guilty as he. For example, Shedd (2003) proposed a ‘Realist’ view which he attributes to Augustine and which claims that, when Adam sinned, all of Adam’s posterity were literally present in Adam as a ‘single specific nature not yet individualized by propagation’ (Shedd 2003, p. 446). The ‘Organic Whole’ theory associated with Aquinas claims that humanity is an organic whole which is guilty of the sin of Adam by virtue of having a part or instance—namely, Adam—that committed that sin (Rea 2007, citing Aquinas, Summa Theologica Part II, Sect. 1, Q. 81, Art.1). Jonathan Edwards (The Great Christian Doctrine of Original Sin Defended, 1758) famously suggested that God ordained that Adam’s descendants be regarded as a part of Adam. Rea (2007) observes that the problem with these views is that they lack the resources to explain how we could have prevented the sin of Adam but didn’t and hence are responsible. Developing Edwards’s view, Rea (2007) suggests that perhaps the stages of Adam that committed Adam’s first sin are relevantly similar to us in a way that suffices for their being our counterparts. However, such views are still inconsistent with the principle of justice explained earlier, viz. the son should not be guilty of the father’s sin. The Augustinian-Reformed theologian Hans Madueme (2020, p. 134), a proponent of the Federalist view, objects that the foregoing intuitions about justice are not obviously true, claiming that ‘they likely reflect modern—and misleading—assumptions about fairness.’ Moreover, he argues that many theological affirmations such as the Trinity, the hypostatic union, and the

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sinlessness of glorified saints have no analogy in human experiences, but that does not imply that they are therefore untrue. Hence, the claim that divine imputation of guilt is radically different from normal human ascriptions of guilt and culpability does not render it untrue (p. 134). In reply, some acts (e.g. torturing a baby for fun) are recognizably wrong in all possible worlds, and if some person claims to be a prophet and proclaims that God commands him to torture a baby for fun, we would not excuse him by claiming that there is no relevant analogy. Likewise, the imputation of guilt for what we are not responsible for is arguably inexcusable. Moreover, this intuition about justice is not ‘modern,’ rather it is affirmed in the Scripture. For example, ‘fathers shall not be put to death for their sons, nor shall sons be put to death for their fathers; everyone shall be put to death for his own sin’ (Deuteronomy 24:16): The person who sins will die. The son will not bear the punishment for the father’s iniquity, nor will the father bear the punishment for the son’s iniquity; the righteousness of the righteous will be upon himself, and the wickedness of the wicked will be upon himself. (Ezekiel 18:20) The point is that each person is a sinner because of their own sins. Hence, we should not be judged guilty as a consequence of Adam’s sin. Madueme (2020, pp. 25–7) replies to the foregoing passages by suggesting that Adam is a unique ancestor who like Christ had unique roles in redemptive history, citing Bavinck’s (Reformed Dogmatics, 3:105) remark that ‘Only two persons have existed whose life and works extended to the boundaries of humanity itself, whose influence and dominion had effects to the ends of the earth and into eternity.’ Schreiner (2014, p. 287) likewise thinks that Paul affirms alien guilt in Romans 5:12–21: for it teaches that human beings are sinners and condemned (and hence guilty!) because of Adam’s one sin. Just as human beings are righteous because of what Christ has done, so too they are guilty because of what Adam has done. However, as noted in the previous section, Romans 5:12–21 can be interpreted as saying that the corrupting effect of Adam and saving effect of Christ affect the rest of humanity (this is consistent with Bavinck’s remark regarding influence and dominion) without affirming Original Guilt, which is contrary to Scripture. As Witherington III (2004, p. 146) observes: Paul is not suggesting that Adam and Christ are alike in all respects … the point of comparison is simply that in both cases the act of one man had farreaching consequences for all those who came after him and had integral connection with him.

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The views of Madueme and Schreiner ignore the broader context of Romans 5:12–21, viz. ‘For he will repay according to each one’s deeds’ (Romans 2:6–11), not the deed of one’s ancestor. Original Sin can be understood to mean that we suffer certain consequences of Adam’s sin (Original Corruption), in contrast with the consequence brought about by Jesus’ righteous act and redemption, viz. justification and eternal life. Adam is unique in the sense that his action has consequence on the rest of humanity, not that his guilt is imputed on the rest of humanity which is contrary to the principle of justice affirmed in Scripture. 6.5.2 Can infants and the mentally disabled commit actual sin? It might be asked, if the principle of justice requires personal choice and responsibility, what about infants and the mentally disabled who apparently are unable to make moral choices? Augustine famously derided the idea of attributing actual sinful acts to babies: ‘Perhaps an infant cries and bothers adults, but I would be surprised if this should be attributed to sinfulness and not rather to unhappiness’ (Augustine, The Punishment and Forgiveness of Sins and the Baptism of Little Ones, 1.35.66). Crisp argues that infants and mentally disabled persons still possess ‘congenital’ corruption which leads to death and separation from God irrespective of actual sin (Crisp 2020, pp. 45–50). Crisp (2020) explains: Imagine a leprous man granted an audience with his king. He is born with the condition through no fault of his own. Nevertheless, once it is discovered that the man has leprosy, he will be disbarred from the presence of the king. His leprous condition prevents him from being ushered into the presence of his potentate. Similarly, in the moderate Reformed view of sin, fallen human beings are in a morally corrupted state irrespective of actual sin. Although they have inherited this corruption through no fault of their own, the presence of such corruption renders them unfit for the presence of God. (p. 47) However, on the one hand, Crisp’s view seems inconsistent with Romans 5:12 which, as noted earlier, speaks of all people being separated from God because they sinned (the verb he-marton), which refers to the act of sinning rather than the possession of the corrupted ‘sin nature’ per se (Moo 1996, p. 325). On the other hand, the view that infants and mentally disabled persons are incapable of sinning can be challenged. This view is based on the assumption that they are unable to understand the laws of God (whether written in their hearts [Romans 2] or in the Scripture) and thus are unable to transgress the law intentionally. However, as noted in Chapter 3, transgression is not the only form of sinning. Whatever ‘misses the mark’ (Greek hamartia; Romans 3:23) is sinning, whether intentional or unintentional. The sins of infants may be similar to those of animals which, as explained in Chapter 4, has Scriptural support; that is, it may

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be similar in the sense of exemplifying ‘a form of selfishness that is in need of redemption’ (Deane-Drummond 2009, p. 167). Assuming substance dualism (see Section 6.6), one might postulate that (1) the seat of a person’s free choice is in the soul, (2) the soul can make free choices even though the brain and the rest of the body are not fully formed to allow these choices to be manifested in a physically discernible way, and (3) the Holy Spirit can communicate directly with the immaterial souls of foetuses (or the souls of people with intellectual disabilities), as indicated by the Scriptural portrayal of John the Baptist being filled with the Holy Spirit even before he was born (Luke 1:15, 41). It could also be the case (as Plantinga suggests) that (4) every creaturely essence suffers from transworld depravity (see further, Sections 6.5.6 and 6.6), and that all humans from the time of ensoulment would freely choose selfishness (to be one’s own master, see Barth 1936–1977, III/3, p. 305), and therefore sin. Concerning the objection that we have no memory of our prenatal choices, one might reply that one is responsible for one’s sinful choices even if one has no memory of it (Shedd 2003, p. 563). For example, if person X murdered another person and became demented afterwards, X would still be responsible for the murder even if he had no remembrance of his murder.9 Augustine himself wrote that ‘The only innocent feature in babies is the weakness of their frames; the minds of infants are far from innocent’ (Confessions Book I, Chapter 7), observing that ‘I have myself seen jealousy in a baby and know what it means. He was not old enough to talk, but whenever he saw his foster-brother at the breast he would pale with envy’ (Book I, Chapter 7). The affirmation that infants have sinned is implied in other Scriptural passages, for example Psalm 58:3, ‘The wicked go astray from the womb; they err from their birth, speaking lies,’ and Psalm 51:4–5: Against you, you alone, have I sinned, and done what is evil in your sight, so that you are justified in your sentence and blameless when you pass judgement. Indeed, I was born guilty, a sinner when my mother conceived me. In view of their poetic genre, some commentators regard these passages as hyperbole. Poems, however, can convey literal truths, as when David confessed that he has ‘done what is evil in your sight’ (Psalm 51:4), viz. his adultery with Bathsheba, and verse 5 traces the cause of his evil to the very root of his being and therefore should be taken literally as well. As Old Testament scholar Derek Kidner (1973a, pp. 190–1) comments: The new perspective on his sin, as self-assertion against God, opens up a new self-knowledge. This crime, David now sees, was no freak event: it was in character; an extreme expression of the warped creature he had always been … they are the very element he lives in. Concerning Psalm 58:3, Kidner remarks, ‘Yet the difference between such people and David himself, as he confessed in 51:5, was one of degree rather than kind.

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He too was a sinner from the womb’ (Kidner 1973a, p. 208). A literal interpretation also fits better with Madueme’s (2020, p. 135) observation that ‘the Old Testament sacrificial system, instituted for all Israelites indiscriminately, implied that all were guilty—including children.’ Numerous New Testament passages likewise imply the same, as indicated by their affirmation that ‘Christ’s atonement was both necessary and sufficient for all humanity (2 Cor 5:15), again because all are guilty—not just infants but even those with cognitive disabilities’ (Madueme 2020, p. 135). Madueme interprets this guilt as referring to Original Guilt, i.e. the guilt that Adam’s sin imputed on them, and not the guilt that is due to their own actual sins. His assumption is that infants and those with cognitive disabilities ‘cannot commit, or are limited in committing, actual sins’ (p. 135). However, on the one hand, as explained in the previous paragraph, this assumption can be challenged. On the other hand, the reference of guilt to the guilt of Adam does not fit the context of Psalm 51, the emphasis of which is on what David himself had done (‘Against you, you alone, have I sinned, and done what is evil in your sight’ v. 4). Thus the next verse ‘Indeed, I was born guilty, a sinner’ (v. 5) should also be referring to the guilt that is due to his own actual sins, and not the guilt of Adam imputed on him. Therefore, contrary to Madueme (2020), it is personal guilt that is due to the person’s own actual sin (rather than Original Guilt) which is implied in the nature of the Gospel itself, with Christ’s atoning sacrifice intended precisely for people who have sinned and thus are condemned before God. 6.5.3 Concerning injustice and grace Madueme (2020, pp. 25–7) objects that, if Original Guilt seems monumentally unfair, the same must be said concerning the Gospel’s affirmation of Christ’s imputed righteousness, for the righteousness that comes from God apart from the law is not of our own doing (Philippians 3:9; 2 Corinthians 5:21). However, Madueme has confounded injustice (which is bad) and grace (which is good). As explained earlier, Original Guilt and condemnation implies injustice and is contrary to the principle of justice in the Scripture and the character of God as affirmed in many Scriptural passages. Whereas imputed righteousness is an act of saving grace which is consistent with the loving character of God as affirmed in many Scriptural passages. Moreover, the salvation that is from Christ is said to involve the person’s choice; the righteousness of Christ was transferred to a person as a consequence of him/her choosing to believe (2 Corinthians 5:21). Although Christ represented the person before he/she chose him to be his/her representative, he/she still has to choose before he/she can experience the salvific benefits of Christ. On this account, the person is responsible for whether he/she would accept or reject the truth of the Gospel (John 3:19–21). Whereas, on Madueme’s view a person’s choice is not involved in the imputation of Adam’s sin on him/her, and therefore it is inconsistent with the view that morality and love require the making of free choice in the process (see Chapter 3).

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One might reply that we tacitly chose Adam as our representative when we chose to sin. For example, consider Erickson’s (1998, p. 656) suggestion that ‘we suffer guilt from original sin, but it is only a conditional guilt (until ratified by us).’ He elaborates: We become responsible and guilty when we accept or approve of our corrupt nature. There is a time in the life of each one of us when we become aware of our own tendency toward sin. At that point we may abhor the sinful nature that has been there all the time. We would in that case repent of it and might even, if there is an awareness of the gospel, ask God for forgiveness and cleansing. At the very least there would be a rejection of our sinful makeup. But if we acquiesce in that sinful nature, we are in effect saying that it is good. By placing our tacit approval upon the corruption, we are also approving or concurring in the action in the garden of Eden so long ago. We become guilty of that sin without having committed any sin of our own. (p. 656) However, in that case it is our choice that is the ground for our guilt, not Adam’s choice, hence this would amount to a denial of Original Guilt which affirms that our guilt is a consequence of the first sin of the first man. 6.5.4 Other Scriptural passages Reformed theologians have cited other Scriptural passages to support their view, for example, they claim that Abraham represented Levi in offering tithes (Hebrews 7:9–10). However, the offering is not the same as guilt and condemnation. The offering should be understood from the perspective of God’s covenant with the Hebrews which was enacted through Abraham, hence Abraham could represent his descendants in offering. Whereas justification, guilt, condemnation, and repentance concern an individual’s personal relationship with God and are not based on our ancestors’ choices (see Ezekiel 18; Luke 3:8). One might object by citing apparent cases of corporate punishment in the Scripture. For example, Joshua 7 portrays that Achan took some of the things devoted to destruction, and the Israelites were said to have ‘broken faith in regard to the devoted things’ (Joshua 7:1, 11). However, this should be understood in light of God’s covenant with the people of Israel which concerns the Israelites as a whole (see Joshua 1:16, 6:18). Because of this context, the sin of one person would affect the whole. The making of the covenant involved the free choice of the Israelites beforehand to enter into the covenant, and is different from the postulation by the proponents of Original Guilt who regard the descendants of Adam to be guilty as a consequence of the first sin of the first man without them having chosen to enter into any such covenant before. Moreover, it should be noted that Achan was later killed for his guilt (Joshua 7:24–25). If all the Israelites were regarded to be as guilty as Achan because of Achan’s sin, then they should all have been killed, but that was not the case. Hence, the case of Achan

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cannot be used to support the view of Original Guilt which regards the descendants of Adam to be guilty and worthy of death as a consequence of the sin of Adam. ‘The anger of the LORD burned against the Israelites’ (Joshua 7:1) can be understood as the Israelites being affected by the sin of Achan (cf. ‘Why did you bring trouble on us,’ Joshua 7:25) rather than being judged to be as guilty as Achan (for this distinction, see Section 6.5.5). One might ask why Achan’s family was killed along with him (Joshua 7:24–25). Likewise, the ‘sin of Manasseh’ was said to have stained the nation such that the exile was inevitable (2 Kings 23:26–27; cf. 21:10–16; 24:3), and the judgement on David’s descendants (2 Samuel 12:10–14), on Solomon’s descendants (1 Kings 11:11–13), on Baasha’s descendants (1 Kings 16:12–13), on Ahab’s descendants (1 Kings 21:28–29), and on Hezekiah’s descendants (2 Kings 20:16–18) all seem to contradict the Scriptural principle of justice that each generation is responsible for its own sin (Deuteronomy 24:16; 2 Kings 14:5; Ezekiel 18:4, 20). So does Isaiah’s statement that slaughter should be prepared for children for the iniquity of their fathers (14:21). In response, Boda (2016, p. 32) explains that in such cases the family members were also involved in sinning. He illustrates: Resolution to this issue may be found in the closing chapters of 2 Kings. While the sin of Manasseh has stained the land irreparably, the penitential response of Josiah showcases how a future generation is not held responsible for the sin if it rejects the patterns of the former generation and embraces the priorities of Yahweh. The generations that followed Josiah did experience the judgement because they exemplified the same guilty behaviour of Manasseh. On the other hand, there is a distinction between ‘being judged guilty and punished for the sins of others’ which many Scriptural passages forbid (as noted earlier), and ‘being affected by the sins and resultant punishment of others.’ The distinction can be illustrated by considering the fact that, if a person chooses to be a gambler and loses his money, his children will be affected, but this does not imply that the children are guilty of gambling. There are numerous Biblical examples of being affected by the sins and the resultant punishment of others, which I shall now discuss. The first is the theme of visiting the iniquity of the fathers upon the children, which is found in the Torah (Exodus 20:5, 34:7; Deuteronomy 5:9–10; Numbers 14:18) and echoed in other parts of the Old Testament (e.g. Jeremiah 32:17–18; Lamentations 5:7). These passages are not saying that the children are guilty of the sins of the fathers and that God punishes the children for this guilt, rather the children do suffer the consequence of God’s punishment on the fathers given that they were all part of the same family unit (Sklar 2016, p. 20; noting that others have argued that ‘the Lord is stating he will punish future generations in the same way he punished their parents if they continue in the sins their parents committed,’ see Stuart 2006, pp. 454, 717; italics in original).

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The Hebrew paqad (translated as visiting) means to attend to or to inflict something harmful or unpleasant on someone, and it can be understood as God setting up a natural order such that sins of parents tend to affect their children. As Ellicot comments: It is a fact that, under God’s natural government of the world, the iniquity of fathers is visited upon their children. Diseases caused by vicious courses are transmitted. The parents’ extravagance leaves their children beggars. To be the son of a felon is to be heavily handicapped in the race of life … We each individually inherit special tendencies to this or that form of evil from the misconduct of our several progenitors.10 According to the Scriptural narrative, when Pharoah sinned, the Egyptians were said to have been affected (Exodus 9:8–12). Since Pharoah was the leader of his country, his wrongdoing would affect his citizens, and the Scripture portrays this in various ways, including the death of the firstborn (Exodus 11:5–6). Concerning this incident, it should be noted that, whereas it is wrong for humans to take away the lives of others of their own accord (except in cases where those others have forfeited their right to live by committing murders etc.), it is not wrong for the Giver of life (God) to do so since he has the right to take back life. As Swinburne explains: God does not wrong … if he makes the gift of life shorter for some of them than for some other humans. If there is a God, he has made it abundantly clear that the ‘gift’ of life is a temporary one which he makes as long or short as he chooses. (Swinburne 2011, pp. 233–4) Against the assumption that God could not will the death of a child or of any human being at any age, Stump (2011, p. 183) points out that this is not right, for ‘every human being who dies, without exception dies because that death is in accordance with God’s will, either God’s active will or God’s permissive will.’ In other words, all human lives will be taken away by God one day, whether earlier or later; in the case of those firstborns, God has fixed their lives to end on the same day. For those firstborns who did not agree with the sins of Pharoah (e.g. those firstborns who were infants), they would not be judged guilty for the sin of Pharoah, but God has nevertheless decreed their lives to end on that day. Thus the death of the firstborns does not imply that all of them were guilty of the sin of Pharaoh; rather, they suffered the consequences of his sin. Moreover, nothing in the story requires the interpretation that the innocent children suffered in dying. ‘We ourselves know how to protect children from suffering during the depredations of serious medical procedures; if we can do it, then an omnipotent God could do it too’ (Stump 2011, pp. 183–4, who makes this point in relation to another story about the Amalekites). Another example found in the Scriptural narratives is the death of the first child born of David and Bathsheba because of their sin of adultery (2 Samuel 12:14).

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In this case, it is not that the child was guilty and suffered punishment for their parents’ sin. Rather, the parents were punished by his death (Archer 1982, p. 153), and the child suffered the consequence of their sin. As explained previously, God has the right to take away life. God knows what is best for the child, and brought him to himself (perhaps to spare him from greater harm), whereas the adulterers suffered the loss as a punishment. (The foregoing explanations can likewise be offered for other Scriptural passages which mention God taking away the lives of the children of the wicked; e.g. Hosea 9:15–16.) On the other hand, there are other cases in which the apparently innocent suffers might not be truly innocent. For example, concerning the Biblical portrayal of the descendants of Saul hanged for the sin of Saul (2 Samuel 21:6–9), the phrase ‘Saul’s bloody house’ (2 Samuel 21:1) indicates that they could have been participants of the crime of Saul (Haley 1992, p. 241). 1 Kings 13 portrays an incident in which a man of God had been told by God not to eat or drink at a place, but an old prophet deceived the man of God by telling him that God has told him to go to his house and dine, and the man of God was later killed for disobeying God’s command. However, in this case the man of God should not have believed the old prophet. The severity of the punishment is related to the context which concerns taking God’s word seriously (cf. the man of God’s prophecy against Jeroboam) and emphasizing that God will not go back on his word. David’s sin of taking the census (which Joab recognized was wrong and warned David against, but David ignored his warning as depicted in 2 Samuel 24:4–5) affected hundreds of thousands of people who were killed, and he pleads with God saying, ‘I have sinned … but these sheep, what have they done?’ (2 Samuel 24:17). However, verse 1 indicates that the anger of the Lord was already kindled against Israel beforehand, indicating the sin which the Israelites had committed and which David had not yet realized. Hence God used this incident to punish them, and also to let David realize that his wrong actions would affect his people. Genesis 12:10–20 portrays an interesting case in which God sent a plague on the Pharaoh and his household because Abram did not tell him that Sarah was his sister. However, there is no indication as to what disease afflicted Pharaoh (Walton 2001, p. 397). It might have been similar to the closing of the womb as in the case of Abimelech’s household (Genesis 20:1–18) which, although serious in its threat to the propagation of the family, did not cause significant suffering on them, but merely accomplished what was sufficient to protect the womb of Sarah. 6.5.5 Is it fair to let a person suffer the consequences of another’s sin? One might question whether it is fair to let a person suffer the consequences of another’s sin, and to inflict what appears to be corporal punishment (Antony 2011, p. 38). With regards to the doctrine of Original Sin, why would God let the corruption from Adam be passed on and affect the rest of humankind? Is it God’s will that we become morally weak and inclined to sin?

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In response, God created humans to have a love relationship not only with him, but also with one another and with the rest of creation, given which it is inevitable that a person’s actions will necessarily have consequences on others. To elaborate, it is helpful to consider Robin Collins’ (2013) Connection Building Theodicy (CBT), which has already been mentioned in previous chapters. Collins defines a relevant connection as a special sort of relation between persons (or even persons and non-human creation) resulting from significant past interaction between them, particularly interactions involving morally significant actions. For example, people who have risked their lives for each other (such as in war) often feel such a connection and attach great value to it. The relevant connections formed by virtuous actions come in at least three closely interrelated forms: those of appreciation, contribution, and intimacy. Collins observes that many people have a great desire to contribute positively to the world and only feel satisfied with their lives if they have made significant contributions. They gain great satisfaction from having contributed, even to the extent of thinking that their life was worthwhile even if they endured more suffering than happiness. Often this sense of value goes beyond the value of the contribution itself, but crucially involves a perceived value of having been the means by which the contribution occurred. Thus, for instance, if God directly provided for the welfare of others, this value would be lost. Eventually all those in a heavenly state will become fully aware of the contribution of others to their lives. On the other hand, a person’s wrong actions will have bad consequences on others. These consequences can take various forms. For example, if a person chooses to be an alcoholic, his children would be affected. The children would not be judged guilty for the sin of alcoholism their father commits, but their character, temperament, family relationships, health, etc. would be affected. Likewise, it can be postulated that Adam’s sin affected his posterity, but in a more profound manner, i.e. it resulted in the corruption of human nature (as noted earlier, Augustine [On Nature and Grace, Chapter 3] regarded this corruption as an addition of an element of wickedness to the human nature, whereas Anselm [The Virgin Conception and Original Sin] regarded this as the loss of a certain kind of grace). Moreover, human sins would affect the environment. God allows these events to happen because he wants humans to see the consequences that are due to their wrong actions, and that they would learn to be responsible for their actions and for each other. As Ellicot comments: The knowledge that their sins will put their children at a disadvantage is calculated to check men in their evil courses more than almost anything else; and this check could not be removed without a sensible diminution of the restraints which withhold men from vice. Still, the penalty upon the children is not final or irreversible. Under whatever disadvantages they are born, they may struggle against them, and lead good lives, and place themselves, even in this world, on a level with those who were born under every favourable circumstance.11

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It is not God’s desirative will that humans become morally weak and inclined to sin, rather it is God’s permissive will, i.e. something God allows for the sake of making greater goods possible. Reproduction and inheritance of human nature were intended as a good way of bringing forth offspring by letting a man and woman experience the joy of union and the joy of passing down their likeness (which was initially flawless) to posterity. It allows for the possibility of forming deep and meaningful connections between parents and children and between all of humanity, since we all descended from one couple (see the Connection Building Theodicy mentioned earlier). However, this good way was marred by human sin; after Adam and Eve sinned, their spiritual and physical nature suffered corruption, and these were passed down to their posterity. Sceptics have often objected to the Scriptural claims of drastic consequences that are supposed to have resulted from an apparently trivial act of disobedience of the first couple (Ruse 2017). However, they have neglected the observation that the smallest actions can often have the most profound ramifications (‘ripple effect’); this is recognized by the ancient Chinese philosophers such as Confucius and Mencius (Gross-Loh 2013), and by modern chaos theory, viz. the butterfly effect whereby a small change in the initial conditions can result in large differences in a later state of a system. Moreover, the consequences are not all due to the disobedience of the first couple, rather they are also related to the disobedience of subsequent generations of people as well. The drastic consequences of wrong choices are consistent with the reasons why God give humans significant free will as argued for in Chapters 2 and 3. In conclusion, suffering the consequences of others’ sin is different from being regarded as guilty for others’ sin; the former is not unjust and is not contrary to the principle of justice affirmed in Scripture (Deuteronomy 24:16; Ezekiel 18:20; Romans 2:6–11). Crisp (2020, pp. 38–9) likewise argues that, whereas the doctrine of Original Guilt is unjust: the notion that original sin is an inherited moral condition, rather like humans inheriting physical conditions from their parents, seems plausible and is not necessarily unjust … Whether we like it or not, our sinful choices often have effects on others around us. Crisp (2020) clarifies that, ‘like being born in a state of slavery, being born in a state of sin is a condition we inherited from forebears for which we are not culpable’ (p. 50). Madueme (2020, pp. 25–7) objects that ‘if we are not guilty for innate moral corruption, then we cannot be guilty for sinful acts that arise necessarily from it.’ Crisp (2020) replies that the conclusion Madueme draws does not follow: By his own lights, humans are not innately virtuous, but sinners. However, that does not mean fallen humans are not praiseworthy for virtuous acts they perform. The point is that moral approbation or blame attaches to actions an agent performs, not (or not necessarily) to the moral nature with which a person is created. (pp. 141–2)

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6.5.6 Could fallen people have chosen not to sin at all? Nevertheless, Crisp’s affirmation of theological compatibilism makes his view vulnerable to the objection that Original Corruption determines that fallen humans commit actual sins for which they are regarded as culpable, which is unjust given that they could not have chosen otherwise with respect to their actual sins and Original Corruption. In other words, one might ask, ‘But isn’t it the case that Original Corruption determines that Adam’s descendants commit actual sins and are condemned? If so, isn’t this unjust given that Adam’s descendants could not have chosen otherwise with respect to their actual sins and Original Corruption?’ As Madueme (2020, p. 23) puts it: The idea that sin is innate to humanity, a state we are born into, seems to threaten moral responsibility. I have no control over my natural condition. It was not a choice I made for which I can be held responsible. Madueme (2020, p. 137) elaborates: we still inherit a state of moral corruption and are blameworthy for sins that arise inevitably from it. On this view, however, I would like to know why God condemns us for our actual sins … why are we blameworthy for sins that arise inevitably from that very condition? That seems unjust.12 The problem can be formulated in terms of a dilemma. Could fallen people have chosen not to sin at all? If the answer is no and it is necessary that we sin, how can God’s judgement be fair? Why let our natures be corrupted to such an extent that we would necessarily sin and be condemned? If the answer is yes, does it not violate the Scriptural passages concerning universality of sin and human depravity? For example, are human beings ‘dead through the trespasses and sins’ because of the corruption that resulted from Adam’s sin, or because of their free choice? Citing Augustine, McFarland (2016, p. 308) replies to the objection that ‘if human beings are born sinners, then they can’t be held responsible for their sin’ by attempting to show that it is possible to affirm that human beings sinned both freely (i.e. as willing agents apart from any external compulsion) and necessarily (i.e. unavoidably). His proposed solution assumes Compatibilism (see Chapter 3), as seen by his understanding of willing as ‘as the mode by which human beings experience themselves as agents and not as the power to have acted differently in a given situation’ (p. 314). He argues: For though it follows from the congenital state of my sinfulness that I am born with a fallen will, I cannot displace my responsibility for my sin onto the congenital state of my will, because my will—again, precisely as will—is ineluctably my own. Thus, because sin is a matter of willing turned away from God, it is true both that I was born a sinner and that all my sin is mine. Because the will is that faculty through which I experience myself as an

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Original Sin agent, I cannot coherently dissociate any defect in my will from my own agency. The original sin with which I am born is therefore also my own sin. (p. 312; italics in original)

Likewise, citing Augustine, Couenhoven (2016, p. 191) argues that human agents are accountable for the features of their hearts and minds and can be praised or blamed for their content. Thus, at the moment of their creation, Adam and Eve were praiseworthy, not because they had chosen their innocent state, but simply because their beliefs and loves were good. Similarly, when Adam and Eve fell, they had ownership of their now fallen beliefs and desires, and thus were accountable and blameworthy even though they may have lacked control over their fall into sin (p. 191). However, as shown in Chapter 3, the compatibilist view of McFarland and Couenhoven faces difficulties answering the question what is the first cause of human sins without tracing the accountability back to God, whereas a libertarian account does not face this difficulty. One would think that God (and not Adam and Eve) deserves to be praised for their initial innocent state, and they deserved to be blamed for their fall because being libertarian free agents they were the first cause of their sin. I therefore propose to avoid the objection against Crisp’s compatibilist view of Original Corruption by affirming libertarian freedom and clarifying that actual sin involves the following two conditions: (A)

(B)

The thoughts and/or desires to sin: the corruption that resulted from Adam’s sin, the environment/corrupted cultural influences, and/or Satan’s temptations can contribute to these, but they are not the only possible causes of these (see the discussion on the origin of evil in Chapter 3). Free choice, e.g. freely choosing to follow sinful thoughts/desires and committing actual sin.

Given (A) and (B), one can suggest the following possible model (not implied by Romans 5:12–21, but consistent with it) in response to Madueme’s objection. The model proposes that perhaps God foreknew via his Middle Knowledge that: 1

2

Even if the descendants of Adam were not affected by the corruption that resulted from Adam’s sin, they would still have freely chosen to sin. (According to traditional Christian theology, Adam himself was not affected by such a corruption, but he freely chose to sin.) Even though the descendants of Adam have been affected by the corruption that resulted from Adam’s sin, they could still have freely chosen not to sin, but they would not. Rather, they would freely choose to act in accordance with their corrupted desires to sin. Hence they would still need to bear responsibility. In this way, Adam’s sin which resulted in the corruption of human nature is in some ways causally related to their acts of sinning and the resultant condemnation (see the exegesis on Romans 5:12–21 in Section 6.4,

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contrary to Pelagians and Barthians). However, it is not deterministic of their acts of sinning (contrary to theological compatibilists), rather it is their libertarian free choice which freely chooses to act on those corrupted desires. In other words, on my view that sin of Adam contributed the causally necessary conditions but not the causally sufficient condition for subsequent human sins. Rather, subsequent human free choices were involved as well. Thus, in this sense, ‘humans do not die simply because of Adam’s sin, but because of Adam’s sin and their own sin’ (Witherington III 2004, p. 147). Hence, according to this model the fundamental reason for human culpability is not because of Original Corruption, but because of their free choice. Having freely chosen to sin from the beginning of their existence (see the discussion on infants in Section 6.5.2), their sinful characters and habits are formed which determined their subsequent behaviour and hold them in bondage to sin (cf. Romans 7:14–25). Thus, Scripture portrays the human heart, i.e. the centre of the human being, as being ‘more deceitful than all else and is desperately sick’ (Jeremiah 17:9). At this stage, my proposal would agree with McFarland (2016, p. 308) that ‘as responsible agents, we continue to will what we desire, but our desires are misdirected, and we have no power to right them on our own. Only God’s grace can reorient them to their proper end.’ My proposal affirms that all fallen humans are or would be under the bondage of sin and in that state they could not take the initiative towards God without the help of divine grace as mediated by the Holy Spirit (cf. 1 Corinthians 12:3), therefore Pelagianism and semi-Pelagianism are avoided. Nevertheless, fallen humans are still responsible for their subsequent sinful acts because the entrance into bondage was due to their free choice. Thus the common understanding ‘I sin because I am a sinner, born with original sin’ (Crisp 2020, pp. 38–9) is partially correct: Original Sin understood as Original Corruption results in sinful desires in my human nature which partly explains my act of sinning, but this does not fully explain my act of sinning. Rather my free choice is involved as well, and hence I am responsible. Compare my proposal with McFarland’s (2007) characterization of Original Sin as a state of being or orientation towards disobedience to God which is ‘prior to any decision of the will,’ but which ‘causes’ or ‘conditions’ our sinful acts of will (pp. 152–4), something that ‘puts the will … in bondage’ (p. 152). The passage which is often cited to support this view is Romans 7:14–23: … I am of the flesh, sold into slavery under sin. I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate … . I can will what is right, but I cannot do it … . Now if I do what I do not want, it is no longer I that do it, but sin that dwells within me. So I find it to be a law that when I want to do what is good, evil lies close at hand. For I delight in the law of God in my inmost self, but I see in my members another law at war with the law of my mind, making me captive to the law of sin that dwells in my members.

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This passage in Paul is consistent with what Augustine calls concupiscence, i.e. disordered desire, a much broader category than simply sexual desire (Wiley 2020, p. 114). Vicens (2018, p. 103) claims that ‘Paul’s picture of sin as something that overpowers and enslaves seems to be in tension with his insistence that the infliction of divine wrath on sinners is entirely justified’ (cf. Romans 3:5–6, 9:14–24), and she thinks that ‘Paul was a kind of compatibilist about the lack of ability to do otherwise and moral responsibility.’ However, this conclusion does not follow, because Paul does not say in Romans 7 that the state in which he found himself was ‘prior to any decision of the will’ (contra McFarland) or ‘before we are fully formed as rational and responsible agents’ (contra Vicens 2018, p. 103). On the other hand, the tension can be resolved in another way which is compatible with libertarian freedom, i.e. in terms of 1 and 2 explained earlier. A proponent of libertarian freedom can argue that, having freely chosen to sin in certain circumstances—perhaps starting from their childhood as they choose to reject the moral law written in their hearts (Romans 2) and follow their corrupted desires instead— people’s characters are formed accordingly, by which certain other sinful acts would then be determined (cf. Kane’s ‘selfforming actions’ discussed in Chapter 3). Such sinful habits together with the strong desires to sin would then control them and hold them in bondage (Romans 7:14–25) and they lost their freedom not to sin, and they became slaves to sin. Nevertheless, they are still responsible for their subsequent sinful acts because entering into bondage was due to their free choice. This conclusion is consistent with Augustine’s prayer, ‘For you have imposed order, and so it is that the punishment of every disordered mind is its own disorder’ (Confessions 11.19). Vicens (2018, p. 104) herself acknowledges that: if freedom and responsibility come in degrees … then the imperfect freedom we develop may leave room for some degree of responsibility for our actions, making blame and punishment of each other appropriate … But such blame and punishment will no doubt be tempered by significant sympathy for fellow humans who share our sinful condition, and prompt us to forgive those who trespass against us, as we, too, need to be forgiven. The foregoing view I defend is consistent with Vicens’ (2018, p. 104) interpretation that takes Paul’s ‘emphasis on the unavoidability of sin quite literally, and interpret[s] his discussion of divine wrath in light of the larger biblical corpus— including Paul’s own writings—that highlight God’s compassion and mercy.’ It is also consistent with her observation that Paul is insistent that our sin is ‘something from which we cannot free ourselves, but from which we need liberation … “Wretched man that I am! Who will rescue me from this body of death? Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!” ([Romans] 7:24–25)’ (p. 103). Indeed, I would argue that in such a corrupted state even the desire to turn to God would not be available to them without God’s gracious work. Without his help, humans are spiritually dead (Ephesians 2:1); they cannot determine to respond to God, because they have no real desire for God (Romans 3:11), being bonded by their

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sinful characters, the result of their ‘self-forming acts’ chosen earlier. Hence, no one would freely turn to God without God’s aid (John 6:44; 1 Corinthians 12:3). The depravity of humanity can be said to be ‘total’ in the sense that it negatively impacts all aspects of all members (except Christ) of the human race (McCall 2019, p. 309). By trusting in Christ they can be set free and reclaim their freedom not to sin. Wiley (2020, p. 114) notes that: what scared Augustine about Pelagius’s view was that if a person could be righteous—if a person could avoid sinning—then there would be no absolute necessity for Christ. The fundamental Christian proclamation (that is, that all humankind needs Christ’s forgiveness of sin) would be false. However, the affirmation of the truth of the fundamental Christian proclamation that all humankind needs Jesus Christ as saviour and his forgiveness of sin does not require the claim that all humans could not avoid sinning at the very beginning of their existence; it only requires the claim that all humans (except Christ) would not avoid sinning. Pelagius’ proposal that, after Adam sinned, humans can still freely choose the good and can be justified and saved by their good works ignores the state of bondage which all humans do enter into, whereas Augustine’s proposal fails to give an adequate account of human responsibility. My proposal avoids the problems of both proposals by arguing that humans can freely choose the good at the initial state of their existence but they would not, hence they are in bondage and cannot be justified and saved by their good works. In their state of bondage human beings could not avoid sin by their own efforts, hence as Augustine argued Christ can without qualification be proclaimed as Saviour of all. McFarland (2016, p. 306) might ask, doesn’t my proposal that all humans could avoid sinning at the beginning of their existence imply it is logically possible that some human beings might earn salvation by their own merit by persisting in their avoidance of sin? In that case, isn’t it logically possible that some human beings do not need to look to Christ for their salvation? In reply, one must be careful to avoid a modal fallacy by distinguishing between the following two sentences: 1 2

Necessarily, what God foreknew would happen. What God foreknew would happen necessarily.

Proposition (1) is true but proposition (2) is false. It is true that God cannot be wrong about what he foreknew, but this does not imply that ‘the event which he knows about’ happens necessarily (Moreland and Craig 2003, pp. 518–21). God’s foreknowledge has no causal influence on what people choose to do; God’s foreknowledge of Adam’s choice did not cause Adam’s choice. God created Adam as a free person and he was free to choose whether to obey God or not; nobody forced him to sin. Thus Adam could still have chosen otherwise, but he would not, and God knew beforehand that he would not. In this case, what God

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foreknew would happen, but it happens as a result of free choice. Therefore, free choice is not excluded by divine foreknowledge. Likewise, given that Scripture indicates that God foreknew that all humans (except Christ) would misuse their libertarian freedom and therefore need to look to Christ for their salvation, and given that what God foreknew must be true, it would not be possible to find any human in the actual world who would not need to look to Christ. This, however, does not imply that they misuse their freedom necessarily. Moreover, having entered into bondage as a result of their misuse of libertarian freedom, all humans could not take the initiative towards God without the help of divine grace (denial of Pelagianism and semi-Pelagianism). Furthermore, it could be the case that the grace of God does work at some point in the lives of all humans (the doctrine of prevenient grace), causing them to have the desire for God by exerting on them certain influences and illuminating their minds through the Holy Spirit. Those who respond positively to this desire with their Libertarian free choice will eventually be led to circumstances where they would freely accept the Saviour and be freed from condemnation, whereas those who resist this desire and persist in their rejection of the work of the Holy Spirit will be ultimately condemned (similarly to those mentioned in Acts 7:51). Therefore, the ultimate reason why any person is finally condemned is not because only imperfect options were available to him. Rather, it is because that person freely chose to reject what is good, viz. God’s grace, and thus he freely chose to remain in the evil state that he was in. Hence, there would be no basis for complaint about injustice at the Final Judgement. My proposal assumes that all human beings would have freely chosen to sin anyway. As Craig (2019) explains: God via His middle knowledge knew that, had we been in Adam’s place, we would have done the same thing … God chose to create only persons who He knew would make the same choice as Adam … he did exactly what you would have done. Perhaps all human beings ever created suffer from transworld depravity (see Chapter 2), such that each of them would freely choose to sin at some point in his/her life history even if Adam had not sinned. Perhaps God allowed Adam’s sin to affect his posterity and their environment because those who would repent need to experience the tragic effects of sin before they would repent. Madueme’s objection that ‘If the first human being is genuinely able not to sin, why is the first sin inevitable’ (Madueme 2020, p. 26) can also be answered by Plantinga’s (1974) suggestion that it might be the case that every creaturely essence suffers from transworld depravity. One might argue that the postulation that every creaturely essence suffers from transworld depravity is supported by Jesus’ statement that ‘No one is good except God alone’ (Mark 10:18). (Concerning creaturely essence, see Section 6.6. Note that ‘no one’ in Mark 10:18 does not merely refer to ‘no humans’ only, rather the qualification ‘except God’—who is not a human—implies that ‘no one’ refers to ‘no existing thing’ [except God] is good;

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this would imply that angels are not good too. Perhaps angels too suffer from transworld depravity and sinned, but not all angels sinned to the extent of apostasizing as Satan did, i.e. there are angels who sinned but are unfallen.) Madueme also objects by claiming that the idea of Middle Knowledge is incoherent, arguing that for libertarians, there is no basis on which one could even know what each of us would have done ‘counterfactually’ in the Garden of Eden (p. 26). However, this so-called grounding objection to Middle Knowledge can be replied to by arguing that the basis is the essence of each person which is known by God (see the discussion on the hylomorphic model in Section 6.6). Embracing the foregoing view of Craig does not require embracing his view that God authorizes Adam’s role as our representative imputing his sin on us on the basis of God’s Middle Knowledge that each of us would have fallen had he or she been in Adam’s place. This is an example of the mediate view of Original Sin which Madueme (2020, p. 26) traces back to Friedrich Schleiermacher (1994, p. 304) who writes, ‘We certainly admit a universal imputation of the first sin, an imputation resting upon the belief that to whatever human individual had fallen the lot of being the first, he, too, would have committed the sin.’13 However, the problem with these mediate views is that the imputation of sin and/or guilt should not be made on the basis of the Middle Knowledge or foreknowledge of our choice but on the basis of our actual choices made. (For example, the Scriptures portray that Jesus already foreknew that Judas would betray him, but Judas was not regarded as guilty until he had actually betrayed Jesus.)

6.6 How did the corrupted nature pass from Adam to the rest of humanity? Traducianist and Creationist perspectives It might be asked, how did the corrupted nature pass from Adam to the rest of humanity? This question is related to the generation of human persons after Adam and Eve. In the Early Church there were three competing views: Traducianism, Creationism, and Pre-existence. All of these views are based on the assumption of substance dualism which—contrary to physicalism—affirms that humans have immaterial souls which cannot be reduced to their material bodies. In more recent years various forms of Christian physicalism have been proposed. The consistency of substance dualism with Darwinian evolution has been argued for in recent literature (e.g. Visala 2014). Moreover, a number of recent academic publications (Farris 2016; Varghese 2012; Moreland 2009) such as the comprehensive Blackwell Companion to Substance Dualism (Loose, Menuge, and Moreland 2018) have defended substance dualism against various objections and argued for its superiority over alternative views. For example, it has been argued that substance dualism offers a more compelling account for the fact that our distinct conscious experiences at a particular time (e.g. looking at this sentence while listening to music) seem to be tied together and unified in some sort of deep way. This sort of unity possessed by consciousness arguably cannot be located or otherwise explained given a physicalist ontology, according to which all wholes above the level of atomic simples are mereological aggregates of

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separable parts that stand in external relations to each other (Moreland 2018, pp. 184–7). Moreland states that: a physicalist may claim that such a unified awareness of the entire room by means of one’s visual field consists in a number of different physical parts of the brain each terminating a different wavelength, each of which is aware only of part—not the whole—of the complex fact (the entire room). But this cannot account for the single, unitary awareness of the entire visual field. (p. 189) Moreland replies to various objections and concludes that ‘only a single, uncomposed mental substance i.e. a substantial soul can adequately account for the unity of consciousness’ (Moreland 2018, p. 190). This conclusion does not deny that the regular operations of the mind and consciousness in corporeal beings are dependent upon the workings of the brain and can be disrupted by physiological events, rather, the point here is that there is evidence of a living embodied mind that has a property which exceeds material causality without being free of the conditions of corporeal life (Hart 2013, pp. 198–9; contra Tooley 2019, pp. 12–15. Other arguments for substance dualism include the failure of physicalism and other alternative views to provide a plausible account of intentionality, what-it-is-like to have an experience, first person perspective, and personal identity across time; see Loose, Menuge, and Moreland 2018). Koons and Bealer (2010) argue that the current lack of popularity of substance dualism among philosophers is explicable by a materialistic prejudice which is insufficiently motivated. Although it has often been objected that the relationship between immaterial souls and material bodies is inexplicable, our lack of understanding of a relation is not a good reason to reject the existence of the relation. As Koons and Bealer point out, physics itself admits lawful relationships among physical entities that are extraordinarily diverse in nature and, in turn, admits relations of causal influence and law-grounded explanation among these entities. Physics allows, moreover, that some of these lawful relationships are brute facts having no further explanations. Likewise, the relationship between mind and body could well be a brute fact having no further explanation (Koons and Bealer 2010, p. xviii). From a historical-critical perspective, New Testament scholar Craig Keener observes that most Jews during Biblical times accepted this distinction between soul and body, and that the soul remained immortal after death (Keener 2003, pp. 538, 553–4). This dualism is also implied by Biblical texts which indicate the possibility of human existence outside the body (e.g. 2 Corinthians 12:2), and fits with a coherent understanding of the Incarnation (Loke 2014). The dualism indicated by Biblical texts is a holistic one which should be distinguished from Greek dualism; the former does not entail the sundering of the unity of human life, a sundering which would result in evils such as the neglect of the material dimensions of human existence (Cooper 2001; 2009; cf. Green 2008).

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According to Traducianism, God uses parents to create the souls of children, whereas according to Creationism the souls of children are directly created by God either at or soon after biological conception. Pre-existence is the doctrine that God has a ‘stock of souls from eternity and allocates them as needed’ (Baker 2005, p. 370). Pre-existence is widely regarded as unorthodox, whereas theologians have been divided on Traducianism and Creationism (Crisp 2006), with Augustine famously acknowledging in his Retractationes (1.1.3) that he does not know which position is the correct one. Creationism has been the dominant position in Reformed Theology and the Catholic Church since the time of Peter Lombard (c.1100–60), although never subject to formal definition by the Magisterium; whereas Traducianism has been the dominant position in Lutheran theology (following Luther himself; see Die Promotionsdisputation von Petrus Hegemon [1541]) (McFarland et al. 2011, pp. 123, 514). Traducianism has also been affirmed by theologians from a variety of Christian traditions and eras, including Tertullian (On the Soul, 27.5; 100.27), Gregory of Nyssa (Making of Man, 29), Jerome (Letter to Marcellinus, 1.1), William Shedd (2003), Millard Erickson (1998), and Norman Geisler (2011). One of the arguments which have been offered for Traducianism is that it offers a basis for how the image of God and corruption of human nature could be passed down from Adam to his descendants, the latter in accordance with a particular interpretation of the doctrine of Original Sin (see Section 6.3). In this way, Traducianism does an excellent job of affirming the unity of the human race (McFarland et al. 2011, p. 514). Contrary to Calvin who claimed that humankind lost God’s image after Adam’s Fall (Commentary on Romans 5.12), Hoekema (1986) observes the Scripture affirms that after the Fall Adam’s descendants still bear the image of God, for according to Genesis 9:6 the reason no human being may shed another human’s blood is that a human has a unique value, a value that is not to be attributed to any other of God’s creatures—namely that he/she is an image-bearer of God. And it is precisely because he/she is such an image-bearer (not was one in the past or might be one in the future) that it is so great a sin to kill him/her. The view that humans still retain the image after the Fall also fits better with Psalm 8, which affirms humans’ dominion over the rest of creation (pp. 17–18), and also with James 3:9, which forbids the cursing of humans because they are creatures who have been made in the likeness of God (pp. 13–22). Nevertheless, a number of New Testament passages (Romans 8:29; 2 Corinthians 3:18; Colossians 3:9–10; Ephesians 4:22–4) teach that the image of God must be restored in humans, which implies that there is a sense in which the image has been distorted after the Fall (p. 28). Another argument for Traducianism is based on the interpretation of Scriptural passages such as Genesis 25:23, according to which the nations that descended from Esau and Jacob are described as within their ancestors, and Hebrews 7:10 which states that Levi was within the loins of his ancestor Abraham before he was born. Although Creationists have cited Scriptural texts which affirm that God is the originator of souls (e.g. Ecclesiastes 12:7; Isaiah 57:16; Zechariah 12:1) to support their position, these texts are not conclusive for Creationism because God

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could work through secondary causes such as using ancestors as Traducianists affirm (Grudem 1994, p. 484). In favour of Creationism, Reformed theologian Francis Turretin (1623–87) argues that the unity of the human race required that all human beings must share the ontology of Adam, and given that God created Adam by directly infusing a soul into pre-existing matter (Genesis 2:7), Adam’s descendants must have been formed in like manner (Institutes of Elenctic Theology 5.13.3) (McFarland et al. 2011, p. 123). However, a Traducianist may reply that the method of formation of the soul is not an essential property of human or Adam’s ontology. Opponents of Traducianism object that the notion that the soul could be transmitted in through the bodily act of sexual intercourse seems to be promoting a materialistic understanding of the soul (McFarland et al. 2011, p. 514). Some forms of Traducianism which affirm that the soul of the child is a separated fragment of the father’s soul (‘literally a chip off the old block!’) seem to be beset with this problem (as pointed out in Swinburne 1997, p. 199). It has been argued that, because souls do not have separable parts, they do not seem to be the sorts of things from which pieces can be taken (Moreland and Rae 2000, p. 221). However, other forms of Traducianism have been proposed. For example, on the assumption that ensoulment begins at conception, a possible mechanism is that human gametes are ‘carriers’ of DNA and soulish potentialities which, when syngamy takes place, generate a new immaterial, as well as material, substance (Moreland and Rae 2000, p. 221). They elaborate: What we may be on the verge of discovering with the advances in human cloning is that virtually any cell, not just the sex cells in sperm and eggs, has these soulish potentialities. When the proper physical reproductive conditions exist for cloning—that is, when the cloned cells are placed in the enucleated egg and it begins to develop—the soulish potentialities are actualized to form a new soul. (p. 304) Given the hylomorphic theory of soul which I develop in this chapter, the soul of a cloned human would not result in him/her becoming the same person as the parent. If God can cause unified souls directly as Creationism proposes, God can also cause eggs and sperms to be ‘carriers’ of soulish potentialities such that, during the event of fertilization, these potentials are actualized and bring about unified souls. There is no materialistic understanding given that the immaterial and the material remain distinct on this proposal. Moreover, this proposal does not require the problematic supposition that the soul has parts and/or ‘splits off’ during procreation (cf. Farris 2016). Although some proponents of Augustinian realism (e.g. Shedd 2003) have utilized a Traducian generative mechanism that links all individualized souls to the Adamic whole to ground the view that we are guilty in Adam (Farris 2016), Traducianism by itself does not entail this consequence, since a Traducianist can affirm that the corruption was passed down from Adam but deny that we are guilty for Adam’s sin which we could not have prevented.

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Traducianism also does not require the Augustinian view that sin is passed on by reproduction involving sexual intercourse. Rather, it affirms that the soul (with its corrupted capacities) is passed down via a spiritual mechanism that coincides with physical genealogy, which does not necessarily require sexual intercourse. For example, in vitro fertilization can produce offspring without sexual intercourse, and human cloning can produce offspring without the sperm or egg. Neither does it require the view that Original Sin is passed down by genetics—if that were the case then the solution to sin would not be the atonement of Christ but advancement in genetic engineering (Alexander 2014)! Traducianists would deny this view because genetics refers to the ‘hardware’ (the physical body), whereas Original Sin concerns the ‘software’ (the soul). They would affirm that the soul (with its corrupted capacities) is passed down via a spiritual mechanism that coincides (but is not identical with) with physical genealogy. Traducianism does not require the view that this is the only mechanism by which sin is propagated. Rather, the propagation of sin can also involve the interaction of various other factors, such as cultural heredity (including factors such as parenting), genetics (certain genetic disorders do affect behaviour), satanic influence, privation of righteousness, and deprivation of God’s fellowship in foetal life (Blocher 1997). Croasmun (2017, p. 134) observes that on the whole modern theologians (influenced by Schleiermacher and Ritschl) have exhibited a preference for accounts of social transmission rather than biological transmission of sin. In actuality these two are not mutually exclusive; and neither do they exclude the postulation of Traducianism that the soul (with its corrupted capacities) is passed down via a spiritual mechanism that coincides with physical genealogy as explained earlier. Rather the corruption of humanity can pass down through all of these ways, with the Traducian way accounting for the Scriptural passages noted previously which affirm that humans are sinful even before birth and before their exposure to social influences. One might ask: on Traducianism how could each of us be different persons with different free responses to God if all our souls came from Adam and are determined by the procreative mechanism? Moreover, how could God have determined the time and place where each person would live as affirmed by Scripture (Acts 17:26) and the Middle Knowledge view, if it were the case that the soul of each person is passed down from parents to children? Although Creationism can answer these questions, the problem for Creationism is that ‘only the physical part of a human being is passed from one generation to the next through procreation. How then can we explain the transmission of original sin from one generation to the next?’ (Crisp 2007, p. 17). How to resolve this dilemma concerning Traducianism and Creationism? A Creationist might reply that each new and sinless soul which is created by God becomes corrupted as they become embodied. As Swinburne (2007a, p. 138) suggests: the transmission of original sinfulness is not direct, by the child receiving some share of the parent’s soul (as the traducionist would maintain), but by

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However, the problem with this view is that it is like saying ‘a saint stumbling into an environment of debauchery … the saint is in the corrupted environment, but this does not entail that the saint him / herself is, in fact, corrupt’ (Farris 2016, p. 51). The more typical Creationist response is to say that Adam represented all humankind in sinning, and because of the imputation of his guilt on the rest of humankind the corruption follows as a consequent punishment (Madueme 2020).14 However, I have already explained the problems with this Original Guilt model, viz. ‘the creationist-representationalist view means that Adam’s progeny are punishable for a sin that they are not culpable for’ (Crisp 2007, p. 17). The dilemma can be resolved by combining the Traducianist and Creationist account as follows. First, one can affirm that the counterfactuals of freedom involving (say) Judas are an essential property of Judas’ personhood as a free agent, just as having four angles is an essential property of a square. Just as there are different shapes (squares, triangles, circles, etc.), likewise there are different persons (Judas, Peter, John, etc.), each of whom is unique. What Judas would freely choose is an essential and unique property of his personhood, and is different from what Peter would freely choose. In the case of shapes, if a shape does not have four angles, then it is not a square. It would be false to say that God made it this way, for it is necessarily so. Rather, what one should say is that, if God chooses to create a square-shaped object, then there would be four angles. Likewise, one can affirm that, if a person does not freely reject Jesus given the circumstances Judas had, then that person would not be Judas.15 Therefore, just as God cannot create a square that has only three sides (such a thing would be a triangle), God cannot have created Judas as a person who does not freely reject Jesus given the circumstances Judas had (such a person would be someone else). Saying this does not deny omnipotence, just as it does not deny omnipotence to say that God cannot create a square that has only three sides. Omnipotence does not require doing what is metaphysically impossible. Likewise, if all free creatures have essences that suffer from transworld depravity, it is not a denial of omnipotence to say that God cannot make a free creature who does not suffer from transworld depravity (contra Banner 1990, p. 166). Given this account, it would be false to say that God made Judas in such a way that he would choose evil. Rather, what one should say is that, if God chooses to create Judas, then there would be someone who would freely choose evil. Thus, God would not be the one who caused Judas to reject Jesus. Rather, given that Judas possessed libertarian freedom in accordance with agent-causal theory, Judas would be the ‘first cause’ of his choice to reject Jesus, and he would be responsible for his choice.

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One might object that, on my account, Judas couldn’t have chosen his personal essence which metaphysically grounds the counterfactual that he would freely sin if he were to be in the situation he was in. In reply, in Chapter 1, I noted Michael Rea’s (2007, pp. 347–52) observation that according to Plantinga’s transworld depravity (TWD) account, each of us has the power to prevent our suffering from TWD (thus each person is responsible for his/her TWD). The reason is that, for any counterfactual of freedom C that is true of P, P has the power to prevent C from being (or having been) true of her. Rea also notes that ‘if it is ever true that P suffers from TWD, it is always true that P suffers from TWD,’ and this is true in the past as well. Rea goes on to argue that it is coherent to suppose that each of us now has the power to prevent the obtaining of a state of affairs (TWD in this case) that obtained in the past, noting Plantinga’s Ockhamist response to fatalist arguments, i.e. the response that we have counterfactual power over a great many facts about the past. Rea writes: an agent S has counterfactual power over the obtaining of a past fact F just in case there is some act A that S has the power to do such that, had S done A, F would not have obtained. There seems to be no in-principle obstacle to our having such power over at least some facts about the past (e.g., facts like its having been true one million years ago that I would mow my lawn today, or God’s having believed one million years ago that I would mow my lawn today). (Rea 2007, p. 349) Rea (2007) concludes, ‘Thus, it is at least prima facie plausible that we might have such power over the fact that, from birth, we have suffered from TWD’ (p. 349). My account would say the same concerning Judas: although my account affirms that Judas’ personal essence metaphysically grounds the counterfactual that he would freely sin in a particular circumstance, my account also affirms that he had the power (of libertarian freedom) to prevent this counterfactual of freedom from being (or having been) true of him. This power of libertarian freedom is implied by the term ‘freely choose’ in the counterfactual ‘If Judas is in circumstance C, he would freely choose X’ (see the explanation on explanatory priority on p. 156). As long as Judas is the first cause of his free choice (as indeed my account affirms), there are libertarian freedom and moral responsibility. It might be objected that Judas would not be Judas (not the same thing!) if there was a possible world in which he didn’t freely betray Jesus in those circumstances.16 My reply is that ‘in that possible world, Judas would still be Judas.’ The reason is because we should be careful not to confuse possible worlds (the knowledge of which corresponds with God’s Natural Knowledge according to Molina) with counterfactuals (what the actual world would be given certain circumstances; this corresponds with God’s Middle Knowledge according to Molina) (see also Plantinga 1974, Chapters 5, 6, and 9). It might be objected it is metaphysically impossible that Judas had the power to prevent the counterfactuals being true of Judas’ personal essence, since this seems to be guilty of metaphysical bootstrapping.

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In reply, it is important to note the following order of explanatory priority: ‘Judas’ personal essence having the power of libertarian freedom’ is prior to (i.e. metaphysically grounds) ‘given circumstance C, there is a possible world W1 in which Judas chooses X and there is another possible world W2 in which Judas chooses not-X,’ and this is prior to ‘necessarily, given circumstance C, (in the actual world) Judas would freely choose X (i.e. Judas actualizes W2 as a first cause of his choice).’ Given this order of explanatory priority, it is evident that Judas’ power of libertarian freedom metaphysically grounds the truth of the counterfactual and he had the power to freely choose otherwise (there are possible worlds in which he chooses otherwise), and in this sense Judas had the power to prevent the counterfactuals being true of Judas’ personal essence. There is no metaphysical bootstrapping since there is no circularity on my account; the explanatory priority is linear, not circular. On my view, the counterfactuals of freedom are dependent on the person making the decisions. My account affirms that, given circumstance C, it is a necessary fact about Judas that he would freely choose X. This account denies that ‘he necessarily chooses X.’ Rather, it affirms ‘he freely chooses X,’ and this is a necessary fact about him. One must be careful to note that (A) ‘Judas, of his essence, will freely do X’ does not imply (B) ‘Judas necessarily (de re) does X.’ The reason is because (B) ‘Judas necessarily (de re) does X’ implies that Judas does not have the power to choose not-X, whereas (A) implies that Judas has the power to choose not-X. Since the implication of (A) contradicts the implication of (B), (A) does not imply (B). I would deny that, given the kind of person Judas is, his choice is necessarily X. Rather, I would affirm that, given the kind of person Judas is, necessarily he would freely choose X. In other words, it is necessary that, whenever we put Judas in these same situations, he freely acts exactly as he did in betraying Jesus, where the qualification ‘freely’ implies that there is a possible world where Judas is in those same situations and where he does not betray Jesus. The reason why he has this power, within exactly that same situation, to act otherwise is because he has libertarian freedom. It should be noted that libertarian freedom-agent causation-personhood is supposed to be very different from non-agent/impersonal causes. Unlike (say) a stone which does not have the capacity to prevent its power of breaking a vase from manifesting, such capacity to prevent/refrain is what libertarian free agents would have. Saying that an impersonal entity would break another thing is very different from saying that a person would freely choose X as the first cause of his/her choice. The essence of Judas’ (libertarian) power is such that it freely manifests in certain conditions and that this fact about Judas is necessary. In other words, Judas is necessarily such that he will freely do X under some circumstance C, where the qualification ‘freely’ implies that, in the same circumstance C, he has the ability to do otherwise. In other words, it is a necessary fact about Judas that he has the ‘power’ to do otherwise in circumstance C, a power which he can freely never actualize and for which there are other possible worlds in which he freely actualizes it.

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My foregoing response also provides a response to the objection that Climenhaga and Rubio (2021) raise against Molinism. They consider the possibility that counterfactuals of creaturely freedom are ‘determined by necessary facts about our essences that God does not influence. These essence-facts could be brute necessities, or they could be explained by other necessities that God does not influence’ (Climenhaga and Rubio 2021). This is similar to the account which I would defend, but Climenhaga and Rubio (2021) do not think that this account is compatible with Molinism because they think that this account is incompatible with libertarian freedom, which they claim contains a necessary condition as follows: ‘if S φ-s freely, then there is no set of facts Γ that fully explains both S’s φ-ing and everything S does influencing whether S φ-s.’ In reply, their claim concerning libertarian freedom fails to consider the possibility that the set of facts can include S himself (or the personal essence of S). On my view, ‘why did S freely choose φ’ is explained by the personal essence of S. I would argue that, as long as S is the first cause of his free choice, there are libertarian freedom and moral responsibility. Second, one can use a modified hylomorphic theory of the origin of human souls to provide a way to demonstrate the compatibility between Molinism and Traducianism. It should be noted that the modified hylomorphic theory defended here is different from the hylomorphist account of the origin of the soul proposed by the twelfth-century theologian Odo of Tournai (1994). Odo’s view is based on the Aristotelian hylomorphic view, according to which forms are universals and ordinary physical matter is the only stuff of which individuals are made. By contrast, the modified hylomorphic theory offered here applies to immaterial souls rather than physical matter,17 although it uses analogies from material coinciding objects. The typical case is that of a lump of clay and a statue (e.g. David) which the sculptor sculpts the clay into. As Wasserman explains, pursuing the familiar Aristotelian idea that material objects are compounds of matter and form—where forms are conceived of as abstract entities of some sort (e.g. ‘guiding principles’ or ‘universal properties’)—one could say that David and Lump differ because David, but not Lump, has the form Statue as a non-material part. Thus, material coinciding objects can share all of their proper material parts but differ in some non-material aspect.18 One can postulate an analogous account for immaterial entities similar to the hylomorphic theory described in Richard Swinburne’s The Christian God. As Swinburne (1994, p. 46) explains, ‘on this theory, individuals are the individuals they are in virtue of the stuff (hyle) of which they are made, and the form or nature or essence (morphe) imposed upon it.’ Swinburne notes that on an Aristotelian view, forms are universals and ordinary physical matter is the only stuff of which individuals which have this-ness are made; but Swinburne suggests that the hylomorphic theory can be applied to an immaterial individual by understanding it in a more liberal way than the normal Aristotelian way. Thus, one can postulate a different kind of stuff from physical matter (call this different kind of stuff ‘soul-stuff’) or a different kind of form from universals, such as individual

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essences (‘Maybe there is an essence not just of humanity or being a philosopher, but of Socrates’ [pp. 46–7]. Individual essence is also called haecceity, a term introduced by Duns Scotus for that in virtue of which an individual is the individual that it is: its individuating essence making it this object or person; see Blackburn 2008). Therefore, it can be postulated that the ultimate reality of a being which does individuate is a particular restriction on the specific form, and that restriction is the ‘individual essence.’ It is the union of the individual essence with stuff that brings into being particular individuals. In the case of Socrates, the essence of Socrates is a particular restriction on the form of humanity—it is a particular way of being human—and its union with stuff gives rise to Socrates. Granting the possibility that the human soul can exist apart from the body, that existence would consist in the instantiation of the form in immaterial soul-stuff (Swinburne 1994, pp. 47–9).19 Applying the modified hylomorphic theory to immaterial entities, I shall now show that the hylomorphic account provides a solution to the difficult issues concerning the origin of human persons. As explained earlier, the modified hylomorphic theory applies to an immaterial individual by postulating a different kind of stuff from physical matter (call it ‘soul-stuff’) and a different kind of form from universals, such as individual essences. It postulates that the ultimate reality of a being which does individuate is a particular restriction on the specific form, and that restriction is the ‘individual essence.’ It is the union of the individual essence with soul-stuff that brings into being particular individuals. This modified hylomorphic theory of human souls can be developed to formulate a view concerning the origination of human souls, according to which soul-stuffs are passed down from parents to children (as noted earlier citing Moreland and Rae, a possible mechanism is that human gametes are ‘carriers’ of DNA and soulish potentialities which, when syngamy takes place, generate a new immaterial, as well as material, substance), whereas the particular restrictions on the form of soul-stuffs are created by God to bring into existence particular individuals. Just as there are different shapes such as squares, triangles, and circles, likewise there are different persons such as Judas, Peter, and John. If we think of each unique ‘person’ to be a unique ‘shape’ of a soul as a result of a particular restriction on the form of soul-stuffs, one can say that, as the gametes of the human parents meet and the soulish potentialities carried by the gametes generate a new soul, God causes the new soul to take a particular shape. In this way, different persons are directly created by God in accordance with Creationism, and God could have determined the time and place where each person would live. On the other hand, the soul-stuffs which constitute the descendants (as well as the corruption of human nature, in accordance with a certain interpretation of the theory of Original Sin) are passed down from ancestors to their descendants in accordance with Traducianism. In this way, the Traducianist and the Creationist accounts can be combined, and the merits of both can be retained. The foregoing proposal resolves the apparently paradoxical character of the will observed by McFarland: although the will is part of human nature (i.e.

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having a will is one of the features of human being and willing is something we can’t help doing), the will is that by which we distinguish ourselves from our natures (i.e. I am a responsible agent who experience my actions as mine, unlike creatures whose behaviour is naturally determined via instinct) (McFarland 2016, pp. 310–11). Moreover, ‘while in one respect we receive our wills from our parents as part of our human natures, in another our wills are entirely our own’ (p. 311). The word ‘nature’ is used by McFarland in equivocal ways: (1) as the features of a kind of being, and (2) as a determination via instinct. There is no paradox in affirming that humans are a kind of being whose free choices are not determined by their instincts. My proposal would resolve the second paradox by saying that, although we received our capacities for willing from our parents (transmitted by the soulish potentialities carried by the gametes) as part of our human natures (exemplified by the ‘soul-stuffs’), our wills become entirely our own as God made us in accordance with the essential properties of each individual personhood (by causing the ‘soul-stuff’ to take on a unique ‘shape’ as a result of a particular restriction on the form of the ‘soul-stuff’).20

6.7 Conclusion In conclusion, Original Guilt is contrary to the principle of justice which is affirmed in many Scriptural passages, viz. a person is guilty for his/her own sins and not those of his/her parents (Deuteronomy 24:16; 2 Kings 14:6; Jeremiah 31:29–30; Ezekiel 18:20). Therefore, it ought to be rejected. On the other hand, there is a distinction between ‘being judged guilty and punished for the sins of others’ which these Scriptural passages forbid, and ‘being affected by the sins and resultant punishment of others’ which other Scriptural passages affirm. The latter can be understood in light of the Connection Building Theodicy (Collins 2013), i. e. given that God created humans to have a love relationship not only with him, but also with one another and with the rest of creation, it is inevitable that a person’s actions will necessarily have positive or negative consequences on others. These consequences can take various forms. For example, if a person chooses to be an alcoholic, his children would be affected. The children would not be judged guilty for the sin of alcoholism their father commits, but their character, health, etc. would be affected. Likewise, it can be argued that Adam’s sin affected his posterity, but in a more profound manner, i.e. it resulted in the corruption of human nature. I have argued that Original Corruption is not unjust and is consistent with Scripture. Therefore, Original Sin should be understood in terms of what McCall (2019) calls the Corruption-Only view. This view can be summarized in the following list of theological claims which is adopted from Crisp (2020, p. 35; my differences from Crisp’s position are indicated in the footnotes):21 1 2

All human beings except Christ possess Original Sin. Original Sin is an inherited corruption of nature, a condition that every fallen human being possesses from the first moment of generation.

160 3 4 5 6

Original Sin Fallen humans are not culpable for being generated with this morally vitiated condition. Fallen humans are not culpable for a first, or primal, sin either. That is, they do not bear Original Guilt (i.e., the guilt of the sin of the first human beings). A person born with this corruption of nature will normally inevitably commit actual sin.22 Fallen human beings are culpable for their actual sins and condemned for them, in the absence of atonement.23

I have noted that Crisp’s affirmation of theological compatibilism makes his view vulnerable to the objection that Original Corruption determines that fallen humans commit actual sins for which they are regarded as culpable, which is unjust given that they could not have chosen otherwise with respect to their actual sins and Original Corruption (Madueme 2020). My proposal avoids this objection by affirming libertarian freedom and clarifies that actual sin involves the following two conditions: (A) the thoughts and/or desires to sin (Original Corruption contributes to these, but it is not the only possible cause of these) and (B) free choice (e.g. freely choosing to follow sinful thoughts/desires and committing actual sin). Given (A) and (B), one can suggest that perhaps God foreknew via his Middle Knowledge that: 1 2

Even if the descendants of Adam were not affected by the corruption that resulted from Adam’s sin, they would still have freely chosen to sin. Even though the descendants of Adam have been affected by the corruption that resulted from Adam’s sin, they could still have freely chosen not to sin, but they would not.

Therefore, the fundamental reason for their culpability is not because of Original Corruption, but because of their free choice. Having freely chosen to sin, their sinful characters and habits were formed which determined their subsequent behaviour and hold them in bondage to sin (cf. Romans 7:14–25). In accordance with the postulation that every creaturely essence suffers from transworld depravity, my proposal affirms that all fallen humans would freely choose to sin from the beginning of their existence and enter into the bondage of sin, and that in that state they could not take the initiative towards God without the help of divine grace.24 (The doctrine of prevenient grace affirms that the grace of God does work at some point in the lives of all humans, causing them to have the desire for God through the work of the Holy Spirit, and suffering might be one of the means he uses, see Chapter 8.) Therefore the ‘heresies’ of Pelagianism and semi-Pelagianism are avoided. Nevertheless, fallen humans are still responsible for their subsequent sinful acts because the entrance into bondage was due to their free choice. My proposed understanding of the doctrine of Original Sin synthesizes and develops the ideas of Justin Martyr (Wiley 2002, p. 44), Luis Molina’s notion of Middle Knowledge (Rea 2007, section 3), and Alvin Plantinga’s notion of

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transworld depravity (Plantinga 1974, pp. 166, 173, 186), and avoids the extremes of Pelagius and Augustine. In addition, I have also developed a novel hylomorphic model of personal essence to resolve the debate between Traducianism and Creationism concerning the origination of human souls and the transmission of Original Corruption. It should be noted that this model is postulated as a defence (rather than a theodicy) in the context of debating the problem of evil for Christian theism. I see it as one possibility which the proponents of the argument from the doctrine of Original Sin against Christian theism would need to rule out (these proponents might include atheists, Muslims, Buddhists, etc.). However, I am not claiming that it is the only possibility nor the default view. There might be other possible models. The burden of proof is on those proponents to disprove these possible models. Hence, it is not enough for them to say (for example), ‘I don’t like the idea of personal essence,’ rather they have to show what is wrong with it, failing which they have failed to bear the burden of proof. Moreover, they would also need to bear the burden of proof to show that the doctrine of Original Sin is essential to Christian theism, against those Christians who have argued that it is not (see Craig 2021, Chapter 1). It might be objected that the doctrine of Original Sin was originally proposed as an explanation for the universality of sin, but my proposal seems to imply that, even without the doctrine of Original Sin, the universality of sin can still be explained by the postulation that every creaturely essence suffers from transworld depravity explained earlier. Now, with regards to the foregoing concern, my proposal would agree with Barth that, in accordance with prophetic testimony, humans who came after Adam are those who freely chose to sin and are represented by Adam as a sign, but they are guilty for their own sin and not for Adam’s (Barth 1936–1977, IV/1, p. 510). However, unlike Barth, my proposal would affirm Original Corruption as well. The postulation that every creaturely essence suffers from transworld depravity does not imply that the doctrine of Original Sin is therefore irrelevant. On the contrary, according to my proposal, the doctrine of Original Sin (together with the Adamic Fall Theodicy) explains the universality and prevalence of corrupted desires, the bondage to sin and the horrendous moral evils that result from it (see further, Chapters 8 and 9), and the apparent absence of God as a logical consequence of a Fallen World (see further, Chapters 7 and 8). My proposal would affirm that the universality and prevalence of corrupted desires are not fully accounted for by human biological nature and the environment. Rather, these desires are the result of human nature being corrupted spiritually and made susceptible to the influence of its biological nature and the environment in such a way that it can be further corrupted, and the origin of the corruption of the human nature is due to the sin of our ancestor (Adam) who, like us, misused his free will and caused problems for himself and others. My proposal therefore retains the insight that the doctrine of Original Sin contributes to the explanation of the state of human existence with its depth of depravity. ‘Only in this way do we acquire genuine humility, so that we turn to

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God’s mercy out of a deep and sincere awareness of the depth of our sinfulness, which evades even the most penetrating self-examination’ (Zachman 2016, p. 250). Zachman cites Calvin: In summoning himself and others before the judgment-seat of God, he warns himself and them, that although their consciences do not condemn them, they are not on that account absolved; for God sees far more clearly than men’s consciences, since even those who look most attentively into themselves, do not perceive a great part of the sins with which they are chargeable. (Calvin, Commentary on the Psalms 19:12) In other words, according to Calvin, the doctrine of Original Sin helps people realize their need for the unmerited grace of God which is freely given through Jesus Christ. Finally, the doctrine’s affirmation of ‘in Adam’ versus ‘in Christ’ presents a stark contrast for people to make their choice with regards to their eternal destiny: to choose to remain in Adam or to come to Christ who offers salvation to all.

Notes 1 Walsh (2016, pp. 268–9) notes that: historically and dogmatically, original sin (peccatum originale originans) is equated with Adam’s first sin as the cause of sin in distinction from hereditary sin (peccatum originale originatum) as the sinfulness of later generations inherited through propagation. In the Augsburg Confession and Smaldkald Articles, however, Luther equates the two, identifying original sin (Ursünde in German) with hereditary sin (Erbsünde in German; arvesynd in Danish) as the state of sinfulness into which all human beings are born since the fall of Adam, in accordance with Psalm 51.5. 2 Kant also believes that we are imputable for this propensity to evil (Kant 1793/1960, Book I). Richard Bernstein argues that Kant cannot coherently hold both of these theses since we could not be responsible for a propensity that is in us originally and that we cannot be rid of (Bernstein 2002, pp. 11–35). My discussion in the rest of this chapter agrees with Bernstein: we are not responsible and guilty for the corruption. 3 Whether this should be understood as the affirmation of libertarian freedom is controversial (see Couenhoven 2016). 4 Witherington III (2004, p. 147) notes that Jubilees 3:17–32, Sirach 25:24, and Life of Adam and Eve 3 blame Eve for sin and death entering the world, whereas Paul did not mention Eve in Romans 5, and whereas 2 Baruch 54:19 states that ‘each of us is his own Adam,’ in 4 Ezra Ezra was said to have affirmed a seminal transmission of a fallen identity from Adam (3:7–22) and complained that Adam’s Fall was not his alone but also his descendants’ (7:48; although the angel Uriel was said to qualify this by emphasizing individual human choice and responsibility in 7:127–131). 5 Green (2020, p. 69) traces the fault to the fourth-century commentator Ambrosiaster, whom Augustine followed. Green points out that: In the Pauline letters, the prepositional phrase eph’ hō appears on three other occasions—in 2 Corinthians 5:4, where Paul writes that we groan and are weighed down because (eph’ hō) we do not want to be stripped naked; in Philippians 3:12,

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where Paul writes that he pursues perfection so that he might seize it because (eph’ hō) Christ has seized him; and in Philippians 4:10, where Paul rejoices in the Lord because the Philippians had renewed their concern for him—‘Of course [eph’ hō] you were concerned, but lacked the opportunity to show it.’

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Pauline usage elsewhere thus speaks against the translation adopted by Ambrosiaster and Augustine. Against Blocher who thinks all people ‘sinned’ (Romans 5:12) by violating the Adamic prohibition in a certain sense, Schreiner (2014 p. 277) objects that this is contrary to the text which says that sin and death also affect those who did not sin ‘in the likeness of Adam’s transgression’ (v. 14). Contrary to Craig (2020), who interprets this passage as saying that these people were morally evil but not accountable. Contrary to Murray (1977), who argues that their sins were not reckoned to them and therefore they died because Adam’s sin was imputed to them. Thanks to Xu Zihao for this analogy. https://biblehub.com/commentaries/exodus/20-5.htm (italics in original). Ibid. Madueme (2020, p. 139) responds to the injustice of Original Guilt by appealing to mystery, citing Pascal’s view that without this mystery we are incomprehensible to ourselves. An atheist might object that appealing to mystery is a cop-out here and argue that Darwinian evolution can explain universality of selfishness and ‘sin’ and thus makes us comprehensible to ourselves without the doctrine of Original Guilt. Vander Schel (2016, p. 263) notes that the originality of Schleiermacher’s treatment of sin lies in its focus on the inherently social dimension of sin as something essentially communal, which is an area of significant and continuing influence in modern theology, in particularly the advocacy of the Social Gospel. For Schleiermacher (1994, p. 285) Original Sin (Erbsünde) is ‘the collective act (Gesamttat) and collective guilt (Gesamtschuld) of the human race.’ Each generation inherit the conditions caused by the sins of the communal action of earlier generations which confer on each individual from the very beginning of their existence an inborn propensity towards future sin and a latent guilt that is present even before an opportunity arises to break forth in actual sin (Vander Schel 2016, pp. 256–7). ‘In no case, then, can one regard evils as punishment for a single individual’s sin. Rather, evil is the “collective penalty” (Gesamtstrafe) consequent to the collective guilt (Gesamtschuld) of sin. We each suffer for the sins of others’ (p. 261). Calvin argues that Adam’s sin corrupted his nature and that this corruption spread like an infection to all his descendants (Institutes of the Christian Religion, II.i.6). However, in response to the objection that this view does not seem consistent with Creationism, Calvin uses the representative view by arguing that God had willed to give all of humanity the good things that he gave to Adam, who ‘represented all mankind, who may be considered as having been endued with these gifts in his person; and from this view it necessarily follows that when he fell, we all forfeited along with him our original integrity’ (Commentary on the Psalms 51.5; see Zachman 2016, pp. 242–3). Nevertheless, as noted previously in Section 6.3, unlike the views of some later Reformed theologians, Calvin’s view of representation does not include the element of imputation of Adam’s guilt to his descendants. However, the problem of why let Adam represent us independent of our choice remains with Calvin’s view. Following Saul Kripke, ‘Judas’ is used here as a rigid designator. See LaPorte (2011). I thank James Rooney for helpful discussion in what follows. See my adaptation of Swinburne’s view and response to his concerns in Loke (2011). This is discussed in Wasserman (2009). Wasserman’s worry concerning this view is that it gives up the popular idea that things like statues and lumps of clay are wholly material objects. However, this worry is not applicable for immaterial entities like

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divine nature and divine person, and it is not applicable to a substance dualist view of Christ (see Loke 2014). Swinburne attributes the view on the ultimate reality of being to Duns Scotus, although he observes that it is disputable that Scotus held a hylomorphic theory. It should also be noted that Swinburne’s idea of instantiation of the form in immaterial soul-stuff assumes substance dualism, but certain versions of hylomorphic theory deny this and affirm that the form just is the soul. There is disagreement among scholars concerning whether Aristotle affirmed or denied substance dualism; see the discussion and literature cited in Robinson (2009). Citing Maximus’ understanding of the two natures of Christ as ‘from which, in which, and which Christ is,’ McFarland argues that the will is to be understood as a matter of nature and not as some kind of ontological reserve whereby we stand over against our natures (McFarland 2007, p. 22). In response, my Libertarian proposal is not saying that the will (understood as the making of choices in a libertarian sense) is an ontological reserve above the natures; rather, it is part of the human nature to have such a property as the ability to make such choices. McFarland’s charge that the valuation of individual autonomy is a resurgence of a much more fundamental desire to distinguish ourselves from our natures is not valid against my Libertarian proposal, for the valuation of freedom of choice in my proposal is to ground our identities as morally responsible persons in a way that is consistent with Christian theology. In addition to the differences mentioned in the subsequent footnotes, it should also be noted that Crisp affirms theological compatibilism and the view that the first human being(s) mentioned in the Scripture could be a group of people rather than a single individual. I have explained elsewhere in this book why I reject these two views. Crisp mentions, ‘the caveat normally indicates limit cases that are exceptions to this claim, such as infants that die before maturity and the severely mentally impaired.’ However, as explained previously, this caveat is contrary to Scriptural passages which affirm that all have committed actual sins. Crisp mentions one more claim: 7. Possession of Original Sin leads to death and separation from God irrespective of actual sin. However, as mentioned previously, this is contrary to Scriptural passages which affirm that people are separate from God because of actual sin. With the help of divine grace they may choose to do so, or to resist. From the perspective of traditional Christian theology, the former would be considered virtuous, but not adequate for salvation apart from Christ.

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The problem of divine hiddenness

7.1 Introducing the problem It has often been asked: If there is a God who loves us and wants us to receive salvation as Christians claim, why doesn’t he do more miracles so that everyone would believe? Why doesn’t he clear up all the misconceptions and ambiguities about himself? Why doesn’t God provide more obvious evidences of his existence, such as writing ‘Jesus loves you’ in the sky? Why doesn’t he appear before us right now, or stop the spread of the Covid-19 pandemic and heal every sickness whenever we pray to him? The last question relates to the problem of evil and suffering, and expresses the heartfelt cry of many sufferers. Such cries are also found in many parts of Scripture, such as the psalmist’s prayer in times of trouble: ‘How long, O LORD? Will You forget me forever? How long will You hide Your face from me?’ (Psalm 13:1). These questions relate to the problem of divine hiddenness. Although many atheists regard this issue as a problem for believing in the existence of God, it is actually taught in the Scripture as a doctrine. To elaborate, as noted in Chapter 6, the apparent absence of God can be regarded as a consequence of the Fallen World and Original Sin, that is, the state humanity found itself in outside the Garden of Eden (see further, Chapter 8). Moreover, the doctrine of divine hiddenness is explicitly stated in Isaiah 45:15: ‘Truly, You are a God who hides Himself, O God of Israel, Saviour!’ Other passages in Isaiah (e.g. 41:21–29; 44:7, 24–28; 46:10; 48:5, 14) however claim that God has made himself known. This implies that, although God hides himself to a certain extent, he is not totally hidden; he is also a God who has revealed himself, a theme which is also emphasized in other Scriptural texts (e.g. Romans 1:20; Acts 14:17; John 1:18). These complementary aspects of hiddenness and revelation will be reflected in the following discussion concerning the responses which have been offered to the problem of divine hiddenness.

DOI: 10.4324/9781003265689-7

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7.2 Responses to the problem of divine hiddenness First, the lack of more obvious evidence does not mean that there is no evidence. On the contrary, as noted in previous chapters various evidences formulated in terms of various arguments for the existence of God have been defended in recent publications. These evidences include the existence of the universe which indicates a personal First Cause with libertarian freedom (the Kalam Cosmological Argument; see Loke 2017a), the perception of objective morality which indicates a Moral Lawgiver (the Moral Argument; see Baggett and Walls 2016; Evans 2013), the historical evidences for the claims and resurrection of Jesus (Loke 2017b; 2020a), etc. These arguments indicate that God is not totally hidden; rather, he has revealed himself in creation and in history. Moreover, a publication by Harvard University Press in 2012 notes a survey which indicates that 73% of US medical doctors claim that miraculous healing occurs today; the publication also notes that there have been documented cases of such healings, such as blind people healed and tumours disappearing after prayer (Brown 2012). Sceptics would need to consider these cases carefully rather than dismissively making sweeping claims such as, ‘Uniform human experience is characterized by a total absence of miracles.’ Second, there are plausible reasons why God may choose not to give more obvious evidence and why he often does not intervene miraculously. Partial hiddenness may be good for fostering certain virtues, for example, persistence in seeking the truth. Swinburne (2007b, p. 343) argues that ‘the revelation which God provides will not be very evident; it will need searching out: such is the teaching of the parables of the pearl of great price and the treasure hid in the field.’ This may be necessary so that people would not take the revelation of God for granted but would cherish it more. Consider also the following parable adapted from Kierkegaard’s Philosophical Fragments: Suppose that there is a king who falls in love with a peasant woman. The king wants to marry her, but he does not want her to love him just because he is the king. He wants a real relationship with her, and wants her choice to be completely free. He fears that if he comes to her accompanied by his retinue, in all his kingly majesty and splendor, he will make it difficult for her choice to be one of complete freedom, and he will make it difficult for her to freely choose to marry him for the right reasons. So what can he do? He can disguise himself. (Rota 2013, pp. 367–8) Rota draws the analogy with divine hiddenness as follows: Analogously, God wants to bring us into personal communion with himself. He does not just want our belief, he wants our friendship, our love. But if love is to be love, it must be freely given. And if love is to be the best sort of

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love, it must be freely given for the right reasons—reasons having to do with our awareness of the goodness of the other, and not just a focus on our own satisfaction and self-interest. If God made his existence indubitably apparent to everyone, he might very well frustrate his goals in two ways. First, he might make it difficult for some people freely to choose to enter into a relationship with him. Second, even in a case where the indubitable awareness of God’s existence did not take away someone’s freedom (with respect to the choice for God), that indubitable awareness might make it hard for a person not to let the choice for God turn into a matter of mere Machiavellian calculation. (Rota 2013, p. 368) Partial hiddenness may also be important for moral testing. To illustrate, if I were to tell my children, ‘Do not eat the packet of sweets on the table,’ and if they were to see me sitting at the table continuously, they would of course not eat the sweets. In this case, they may be obeying out of fear, in a way similar to what Kant envisioned when he argues that if ‘God and eternity with their awful majesty [stood] unceasingly before our eyes,’ then ‘most actions conforming to the law would be done from fear’ rather than from the motivation to do one’s duty, and the moral worth of actions would not exist at all (Kant 1788/1997, pp. 121–2). In order to test my children’s motivations, I may choose to hide myself and see whether they would continue obeying my command. My children would then experience moral testing: ‘Dad does not seem to be around! To take or not to take the sweets?’ Similarly, God could have hidden himself (although not completely), so as to let humans go through moral testing. (God does not hide himself completely, for otherwise humans would not be able to know him. As noted in previous chapters, there are various evidences for thinking that God exists. Additionally, many people claim to have experienced him in prayer, Bible reading, in church, etc.) One might object that there is a point of disanalogy, namely that I do not know what my children would choose, but an omniscient God is supposed to have already foreknown what people would choose. In that case why does God still test them? The reason God lets people go through moral testing is not because he does not know the outcome (given his omniscience, he does), but to reveal people to themselves. To illustrate with a story in the Gospels, Jesus already foreknew that Peter would deny him three times, but Peter insisted, ‘I will not deny you’ (Matthew 26:34–35). In the end, Peter failed the test and denied Jesus three times. Jesus allowed Peter to undergo the test in order to let Peter know the true state of his own heart. Such knowledge is necessary for an honest and genuine love relationship with God, which requires the making of free choices in the process. Therefore, moral testing is necessary at this stage of our existence, before the Final Judgement (see the next paragraph). On the other hand, if God were to stop people every time they tried to do evil, the world would be very different. For example, every time someone tried to steal

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something, God would (e.g.) cut off his hands immediately; every time someone wanted to tell a lie, God would cut off his tongue immediately, etc. In such a world, it is doubtful that people would be genuinely moral and love God and one another from the heart. Peckham (2018, p. 149) observes that, ‘if epistemic freedom is necessary for love, God’s simply overwhelming the epistemic faculties of creatures such that everyone would immediately recognize his justice would undercut a love relationship.’ Therefore, God allows people a certain degree of freedom to do bad things and he does not stop them immediately, because he wants people to foster genuine morality and love before the Day of Judgement. Once someone has made the choice in his/her life’s journey to trust and love God, God can confirm and establish him/her in that choice by moulding and strengthening the character of that person such that he/she would not want to draw away from God in heaven, but would love God with his majesty unceasingly before his/her eyes (cf. Kant). As for those who are determined to reject God and do evil, the Scriptures affirm that God will take away their freedom to do evil one day and will rule the world with justice. Sceptics expect that God (if he exists) will intervene because they expect justice to be done. The Scriptures affirm that it will be done one day: on the Day of Judgement God will put a stop to evil and judge the living and the dead (Revelation 20:11–15), and the resurrection of Jesus is proclaimed as the evidence for this (Acts 17:31; see Loke 2020a). The Book of Job expresses the connection between divine hiddenness and moral testing through the words of Job: If I go forward, he is not there; or backward, I cannot perceive him; on the left he hides, and I cannot behold him; I turn to the right, but I cannot see him. But he knows the way that I take; when he has tested me, I shall come out like gold. (Job 23:9–10) Other Scriptural passages indicate that moral testing of humans is related to angelic beings. For example, ‘God has exhibited us apostles last of all, as men condemned to death; because we have become a spectacle to the world, both to angels and to men’ (1 Corinthians 4:9; cf. 6:2–3). Scripture speaks of the heavenly council which has some real juridical function (cf. Daniel 4:17), and the accuser bringing charges against God’s judgement and protection of Job (Job 1:10) and God responding to them before the heavenly council. Hence God allows the moral testing towards the larger purpose of demonstration within the cosmic conflict, for the flourishing of love and thus the best good of everyone in the universe (Peckham 2018, pp. 94–6). Such moral testing would require God to agree to the rules of engagement with other angelic beings (Peckham 2018, p. 108; cf. Job 1–2; Daniel 10). Peckham explains: If Satan is to set forth a real, demonstrative counterclaim, he must possess some jurisdiction to do so. This jurisdiction is seemingly connected (at least

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partially) to the decisions of other creatures who might refuse to ‘give the devil an opportunity’ (Eph. 4:27) or who might ‘resist the devil,’ causing him to ‘flee’ (James 4:7; cf. 1 Pet. 5:8–9; 2 Tim. 2:26). This jurisdiction was presumably triggered or greatly increased by humanity’s fall, providing the context for Satan to manifest his government as temporary ‘ruler of this world’ and concomitantly to lay forth his charges against God’s government of love. Given that God never lies (Titus 1:2) or breaks his promises (Hebrews 6:18), God would be committed to these rules. Peckham suggests that: In any instance where God does not intervene to prevent some horrendous evil, to do so might have (1) been against the rules, (2) impinged on creaturely free will in a way that would undercut the love relationship, or (3) resulted in greater evil or less flourishing of love (cf. Matt. 13:29). (Peckham 2018, p. 109) Peckham (2018, p. 153 n40) argues that the rules-of-engagement approach explains: why ‘God’s reasons for permitting horrendous evil’ might be ‘hidden from us’ (hiddenness—level 1) and why God might hide ‘from us the fact that he has a reason for permitting horrendous evil and/or the fact that he exists or loves us and cares about us’ (hiddenness—level 2). Finally, partial hiddenness is important for the Connection Building Theodicy (see Collins 2013 discussed in Chapter 6, see also Chapters 8 and 9). Third, the purpose for which God created humans is not merely to believe in him, but to have a love relationship with him and with others, and the building of a love relationship often requires going through testing. The meaning of ‘believe’ which the New Testament urges is trusting in Christ who has accomplished salvation for us, a trust that leads into a love relationship with God, not merely an intellectual recognition that God exists. An intellectual recognition by itself does not necessarily lead to a love relationship, just as someone recognizing that his parents exist does not imply he would love his parents, for he might treat them (and likewise God) as a nuisance if he/she is rebellious. According to Scripture the devil also intellectually believes that God exists (James 2:19) and yet opposes God. It has been explained in Chapter 5 that the reason God wants humans to believe and to love him is not because God needs people to have a love relationship with him, but because humans need it. Since God is God, he does not need humans to believe him, and he does not need to obey humans, rather humans need and should obey him. Hence, humans have no right to demand, for example, that ‘if God were to appear before me, then I would believe.’ Being the Creator and Ruler of all things, God has the right to decide how much evidence to provide (as I have argued elsewhere [Loke 2017a; 2020a], those evidences are

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already sufficient for indicating that he exists), and the right to decide the terms by which we can come to know him. It might be objected that, even if those evidences are already sufficient for indicating that God exists, a lot of people (e.g. those who grew up in Communist North Korea) may not be aware of these evidences and may not have the opportunities to know about them. Alternatively, they may have been brainwashed or given false information which affects their background beliefs, such that those evidences would appear to be insufficient for them even though they are actually sufficient. Rea (2018, p. 16) observes it is uncontroversial that: for some people, whatever evidence they possess in support of the existence of God is inconclusive in the following sense: even if they happen to see that this evidence at least weakly supports belief in God, it is not strong enough in relation to the rest of their evidence and background beliefs (however those might have been acquired) to produce in them rational belief in God. Nietzsche asks why would God allow: countless doubts and dubieties to persist, for thousands of years, as though the salvation of mankind were unaffected by them, and who on the other hand holds out frightful consequences if any mistake is made as to the nature of truth? Would he not be a cruel god if he possessed the truth and could behold mankind miserably tormenting itself over the truth? (Nietzsche 1982, pp. 89–90) Nietzsche (1982) also asks, ‘A god who is all-knowing and all-powerful and who does not even make sure his creatures understand his intentions—could that be a god of goodness?’ (p. 91). Likewise, Draper (2011) objects that ‘our world hardly seems designed to promote moral and spiritual growth. For example, ignorance of various moral and spiritual truths makes spiritual stagnation for many virtually inevitable.’ One could also complain about humans being susceptible to cognitive biases (Park 2018), which makes choosing spiritual truths difficult. One response to the foregoing objection uses the doctrine of Middle Knowledge (see Chapter 3). It could be that God had provided sufficient evidence of his existence and would make sure via his Middle Knowledge that those people whom he foreknew would be willing to enter into a love relationship with him would eventually get to know about these evidences (whether in this life or in the afterlife) (Walls 2012), so that they can believe that he exists and enter into a relationship with him (Moreland and Craig 2003, pp. 157–8, 615–26). In this way, their eternal destiny is not subjected to the contingency of their circumstances. On the other hand, it could also be the case that, for those who would not be willing to enter into a love relationship with him, even if God were to give them more evidence, they would not be willing to do so. The story of King Miraz in C.S. Lewis’ The Chronicles of Narnia who persisted in his hatred of Edmund and Caspian even though they showed him grace again and again illustrates the

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possibility that some people would choose to persist in rejecting love no matter what happens. Another response is to argue that spiritual seeking and growth is a harder thing to do in a world where God often seems to be hidden and that spiritual stagnation, intellectual laziness, and cognitive bias for many are virtually inevitable, and this makes moral behaviour such as seeking God to be of great value in such a world. Hence, God chose to allow for such a world in which moral behaviours that are of such great value can exist1 (for the cognitive bias objection, see further, Chapter 8). Sceptics might object that divine hiddenness is contrary to attempts by Christian apologists to provide evidences for thinking that God exists and that Jesus is divine. This conclusion, however, does not follow. As I have explained already, the Scriptural doctrine of divine hiddenness does not imply that God refuses to leave behind any evidence whatsoever (if that were the case we would not be able to find out whether he exists). Rather what it means is that God has left behind evidences but made them less obvious and less direct. The sharing of reasons, which the Christian Scriptures exhort believers to do (e.g. 1 Peter 3:15), can be understood as a means which God uses to help those who are willing to enter into a relationship with God to enter in. Schellenberg (1993; 2015a) objects by claiming that there are nonbelievers who are capable of a personal relationship with God and who do not resist it, and that this is incompatible with a perfectly loving God. Such people are supposed to be open to relationship with God, which means: if they want to, they will be able to do so simply by trying to do so (notice that this doesn’t mean that trying will be easy: perhaps what one would need to do to further a meaningful relationship with God would often be difficult). (Schellenberg 2015a, p. 41) A number of replies can be offered to this objection. First, it should be noted that, in order for Schellenberg to sustain his argument against the existence of a perfectly loving God, the burden of proof would be on Schellenberg to prove there are such non-believers. However, one can reply that no one seems to be well-positioned to say that there are some non-resistant nonbelievers, given the difficulty of discerning people’s motivations, attitudes, and dispositions (Howard-Snyder and Green 2016). Various passages in Scripture emphasize that hidden sins can result in experiences of divine hiddenness (e.g. Isaiah 59:2: ‘But your iniquities have made a separation between you and your God, and your sins have hidden His face from you so that He does not hear’). It would be difficult to rule out (say) any hidden or subconscious Cosmic Authority Problem, which is well-expressed by the leading atheist philosopher Thomas Nagel as follows: I am talking about something much deeper—namely, the fear of religion itself. I speak from experience, being strongly subject to this fear myself: I

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The problem of divine hiddenness want atheism to be true and am made uneasy by the fact that some of the most intelligent and well-informed people I know are religious believers. It isn’t just that I don’t believe in God and, naturally, hope that I’m right in my belief. It’s that I hope there is no God! I don’t want there to be a God; I don’t want the universe to be like that. My guess is that this cosmic authority problem is not a rare condition and that it is responsible for much of the scientism and reductionism in our time. One of the tendencies it supports is the ludicrous overuse of evolutionary biology to explain everything about human life, including everything about the human mind. (Nagel 1997, pp. 130–1)

Rea (2018, pp. 17–18) observes that Schellenberg’s theses are: theses for which nobody could have very good evidence … you would have to be able to acquire good evidence for the conclusion that resistance to belief in God, bias against relationship with God, and the like have in no way colored her attention to or assessment of the available evidence for God’s existence. We have such limited access to the minds of others that it is hard even to imagine how one might acquire good evidence for such claims. Even if the person has never entertained the concept of God, she might, for all you could tell, have self‑induced, even self‐deceptive, biases against relationship with a deity—any deity. For all you could tell, such biases might also color her attention to and assessment of evidence that would otherwise point her toward the existence of God. So how could you ever be in a position to say whether someone else’s failure to embrace theism is wholly free from influence by such biases? Even if there are such non-resistant people, one can argue that there could be various reasons and combinations of reasons which might explain why it would be better if they remained nonbelievers at least for a time (Howard-Snyder and Green 2016). For example, it may be that a person’s non-resistance to God is grounded in improper motives, e.g. a desire for parental approval or social acceptance, or that if she came to belief now instead of later, the passion and intensity of her desire for God would be significantly less than it otherwise would be (Howard-Snyder and Green 2016). Alternatively, it could be that she would be significantly less apt to recognize the wretchedness of living life on her own without God (Pascal 1670, Fragments 234, 378, 427, 446, 449), a recognition which might be important for fostering her persistence with God. Schellenberg objects that none of the foregoing reasons is more valuable than a relationship with God so as to justify the waiting, and that the good states of affairs to which they appeal can be accommodated within a developing relationship with God (Schellenberg 2015a). He thinks that: the idea of an unending, ever-growing personal relationship with God, who is after all described as an unsurpassably great personal reality, is sufficiently

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commodious to allow for the realization, within such relationship, of the very goods God is said to be unable to achieve without postponing or interrupting it or of other goods belonging to the same type. (Schellenberg 2017, p. 114; italics in original) Thus, Schellenberg argues that for these non-resistant creatures nothing is better than for God to make conscious awareness of the Divine available to every finite personal creature such that each of them is aflame with the presence of God (p. 114). However, a creature’s love relationship with God is not equivalent to a conscious experience of divine presence nor is it determined by such a conscious experience. Rather, it involves the free will of the creature, humility, persistence in seeking the true, the good, and the beautiful, personal development over time, etc. It may be the case that, given God’s knowledge of the free choices which some persons would make, God knows that it is morally valuable to let the person seek for a longer period of time to learn humility and manifest his/her persistence in seeking before letting the person find God, and/or God knows that a better development of that most valuable relationship with those persons would happen if the relationship started later. Although the Gospel of Matthew portrays that Jesus said, ‘Ask and it will be given you; search and you will find; knock and the door will be opened for you’ (Matthew 7:7), this does not imply that a person will receive immediately; often sincerity in asking is demonstrated by persistence. Schellenberg (2017, p. 120) offers another argument which claims that, even if God were to permit cases of hiddenness and even if God were to permit cases of horrors, a morally perfect God would not let hiddenness and horrors be combined in any individual person’s life. He thinks that ‘it may well be an uphill battle in the extreme to combat an atheistic argument from hiddenness and horrors that is able to allow that God might well permit hiddenness and that God might well permit horrors!’ (p. 120). However, this uphill battle can be overcome given the arguments which I have offered in other parts of this book concerning why God might permit horrors and why God might permit hiddenness, and given that these arguments can be combined (see Chapter 8). Howard-Snyder and Green (2016) note that there are other possible responses to Schellenberg, that different kinds of non-resistant nonbelievers with different personalities and psychology might call for different explanations, and that each of these explanations might provide a partial explanation and, taken together with others, add up to a total explanation. Another plausible response to Schellenberg which is not based on the personalities of non-resistant nonbelievers but on Divine personality has been offered by Michael Rea. Rea (2018, p. 7) points out that the problem of divine hiddenness is ‘fundamentally a problem of violated expectations,’ and he argues that divine hiddenness in its various forms may also be ‘a natural outgrowth of who and what God is rather than of what God is doing to serve human needs and desires.’ He argues that, given divine transcendence, ‘the Christian God does not conform to any concept that arises out of mere philosophical reflection (unaided by divine revelation) on the concept of a perfectly loving person’ (p. 23), e.g. we cannot ‘arrive at a fully transparent concept

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of divine love without deriving it somehow from divine revelation’ (p. 54). Hence, Schellenberg’s objections, which are based on expectations derived from such philosophical analyses, are unsuccessful as arguments against the existence of God (p. 57). Rea rightly notes that ‘even if one were to establish beyond doubt that nothing instantiates our own twenty-first-century philosophical conception of perfect love, it would be premature at best to conclude that there is no such thing as … the God of the biblical texts’ (p. 61). Drawing on Susan Wolf’s (1982) argument that it is genuinely good to cultivate and embrace love for goods (e.g. love for art, natural beauty) for their own sake or for what one personally gets out of them, rather than simply for what they contribute to the well-being of others, Rea (2018) argues that: part of what it is for God to be genuinely and perfectly personal is for God to be someone with interests and desires distinct from and not necessarily oriented around those of others, projects that further those interests and desires, and a personality that is at least partly expressive of them. (p. 74) Otherwise God’s personhood would be deficient if he is maximally devoted to human welfare (Rea 2018, pp. 73–5); this would imply the worship of humans which is idolatry (p. 79). Rea notes that ‘God is interested in maximizing God’s own glory (whatever exactly that means) and often in ways that seem to conflict with human interests’ (p. 75). Rea concludes that ‘God is the only appropriate object of worship, and that desire for union with God, for divine goods, and for the furtherance of divine projects are precisely the sorts of desires that deserve to be accorded motivational predominance’ (p. 79). I agree with Rea’s conclusion and would add that this makes sense of Scriptural passages (e.g. Romans 2:6–8) which indicate that God would punish people who persist in doing evil, which conflicts with their interests but which is in accordance with divine justice. One might say that maximizing God’s glory means maximizing the manifestation of his perfect attributes of justice, love, etc. and not compromising these for the sake of creaturely goodness. Additionally, the Scriptures’ portrayal of Mary using costly perfume of pure nard to anoint Jesus instead of selling it for 300 denarii and giving the money to poor people, and Jesus’ acceptance of her offering (John 12:1– 8), underscores the point that Rea is making. One might ask, doesn’t Scripture state that divine projects would result in the good of those who love God (Romans 8:28)? In the case of Mary’s offering, one might argue that perhaps anointing Jesus rather than giving to the poor would eventually encourage people to love Jesus which is for their ultimate good, and this in turn would also lead to sacrificial service to help the poor as evident in the lives of people like Mother Teresa. Rea clarifies that God may allow the proximate good of those who love God to be sacrificed not for the sake of their ultimate good, but God will nevertheless work good for them out of those sacrifices (Rea 2018, pp. 82–3).

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In answer to the question what other projects God might have that God would sometimes prioritize them above promoting our good, Rea (2018) replies: So a mosquito might ask about us and our projects and personalities. Tempting though it may be to ask such questions, we cannot possibly hope to find defensible answers. Maybe one of God’s projects involves interacting with humans on certain terms that suit God’s personality better than other, more humanly desirable modes of interaction. Maybe one of God’s projects involves bringing us into a certain kind of relationship with God, or accomplishing certain earthly goals with creation. Maybe these or similar projects inherently involve some degree of divine hiddenness. (pp. 83–4) With regards to Schellenberg’s objection that many people have lacked even the concept of God (Schellenberg 2015a, Chapter 6), Rea (2018, p. 166) replies that it is possible to search for God even if one cannot entertain the concept that Schellenberg calls the concept of God. The reason is because, ‘what Schellenberg calls “the concept of God” is in fact just one among many concepts by way of which one might search for God,’ and that: something is a concept of God just if God is the content of the concept or it is a concept that could only be satisfied by a being who would, if it existed, be God. So any of the following might be concepts of God … the creator of the universe, the highest being, the cause of my experience last night, the perfect lover of my soul, whoever it is that my friend David worships … it is possible to search for God by searching for whatever satisfies it. (p. 166) On p. 173 Rea cites Wainwright’s suggestion that someone who loves the good might thereby, unknowingly, love God. Moreover: if God is also receptive and is acting in some way toward the goal of future interaction, then, in that case, we are participating with God in a personal relationship … it is possible to participate in a relationship with God without knowing that one is doing so and, indeed, without knowing or even believing that God exists. (Rea 2018, p. 172) Rea clarifies, on p. 174, that ‘it is not, at that stage, what the Christian tradition would unite in calling a salvific relationship with God.’ Other issues concerning the fate of the unevangelized are relevant here as well (see, for example, Walls 2012).

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7.3 Conclusion In this chapter, I have addressed the problem of divine hiddenness by defending the following points in response to the objections by Schellenberg (2015a, 2017) and others. First, the lack of more obvious evidence does not mean that there is no evidence. On the contrary, there are evidences which have been defended in recent publications (Baggett and Walls 2016; Evans 2013; Walls and Dougherty 2018; Loke 2017a; 2017b; 2020a). In that sense, God is not totally hidden, rather he is a God who has revealed himself. Second, partial hiddenness may be necessary for moral testing, freedom of choice, and fostering of certain virtues (e.g. truth seeking). Third, the purpose for which God created humans is not merely to believe in him, but to have a love relationship with him and with others, and the building of a love relationship and the associated moral virtues often requires going through moral testing. It could be the case that God had left behind sufficient evidence for his existence and would make sure via his Middle Knowledge that those people whom he foreknew would be willing to enter into a love relationship with him would eventually get to know about these evidences (whether in this life or the next) (Walls 2012). A creature’s love relationship with God is not equivalent to a conscious experience of divine presence nor is it determined by such a conscious experience, rather it involves the free will of the creature, humility, persistence in seeking the good and other moral virtues, personal development over time, etc. It may be that, given God’s knowledge of the free choices which some persons would make, God knows that it is morally valuable to let the person seek for a longer period of time to learn humility and manifest his/her persistence in seeking before letting the person find God, and/or God knows that a better development of that most valuable relationship with those persons would happen if the relationship started later. Different kinds of non-resistant nonbelievers with different personalities and psychology might call for different explanations; each of these explanations might provide a partial explanation and, taken together with others, add up to a total explanation (Howard-Snyder and Green 2016). On the other hand, divine hiddenness in its various forms may also be ‘a natural outgrowth of who and what God is rather than of what God is doing to serve human needs and desires’ (Rea 2018, p. 7), and for all we know God may have other projects which inherently involve some degree of divine hiddenness at least for a period of time (pp. 83–4). In the next chapter, I shall bring together the conclusions of previous chapters to address the vexing problem of horrendous evil and apparently pointless evil.

Note 1 Adapted from Peels (2018) who uses a similar argument for evolutionary evils; contra Marsh (2013).

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8.1 Introducing the problem Many instances of suffering seem to be unrelated to the moral choices of people. For example, good people and bad people suffered similarly during natural disasters such as earthquakes and tsunamis, many innocent babies have suffered from birth defects, and many good people and devout believers have suffered in various ways too. Isn’t it unfair of God to let these people suffer? And why would God allow injustices to happen every day, such as the wicked bullying the righteous? Moreover, many instances of suffering seem pointless. For example, think of a fawn which was burned to death in a distant forest fire that no one knows about (Rowe 1996). What purpose can such an event have? Much suffering (e.g. bumping my shin on the edge of my coffee table and then forgetting about it) seems to be relatively trivial and appears to have no significant benefit for the flourishing of the sufferer (Draper 2011); these cases too seem pointless. Most troubling are cases of horrendous evils. Vitale (2020, pp. 8–9) notes the difference between horrors (e.g. the rape of a woman and axing off of her arms) and pointless evil. He argues that we not only know that horrors exist: but also there is a widespread and strong intuition that there is an absolute (or near absolute) moral prohibition against the intentional causation of them. By contrast, causing human persons to suffer pointless evils may be universally morally prohibited, but we don’t know that any actual evils are pointless. To address the difficult issues aforementioned, I shall bring together the conclusions of the previous chapters concerning the doctrine of divine hiddenness, the Adamic Fall Theodicy, the Cosmic Conflict Theodicy, and the Afterlife Theodicy, and combine them with the Connection Building Theodicy and Soul-Making Theodicy.

8.2 Divine hiddenness and moral testing To begin, it could be the case that in some instances God allows such events for the purpose of moral testing. The apparent unrelatedness of suffering to moral choices can be regarded as an instance of divine hiddenness (‘Why doesn’t God DOI: 10.4324/9781003265689-8

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show up and protect those who choose rightly?’), and I have argued in Chapter 7 that divine hiddenness is necessary for moral testing. If a person chooses to help others only because he/she knows that he/she would benefit and would not suffer any loss, is this person truly a good person?1 A truly good person is often revealed during times of suffering when he/she is willing to sacrifice himself to help others. It has also been explained in earlier chapters of this book that to love the source of goodness (God) is good and to reject God is evil. If a person worships God only because he/she would be blessed and protected by God, then his/her motive would be wrong; he/she would be making use of God rather than loving God per se. The Scripture depicts Job as a good person, but God allowed him to go through the test of suffering so as to reveal that the grounds of his good behaviour and his devotion to God were not because God had protected him and blessed him with health and wealth (Job 1:8–10), but because God is God. It is true that other Scriptural passages do affirm that, since God is just and loving, he would eventually ‘repay according to each one’s deeds’ at the Final Judgement (Romans 2:6–8). This implies that a person who loves God and persists in doing good will eventually be blessed by God, whereas evil people will eventually be punished. Nevertheless, in this life, very often moral testing is required so as to reveal who are those who truly love God and persist in doing good. This partly explains why God allows ‘good and innocent people’ and believers to suffer.

8.3 Adamic Fall Theodicy and Cosmic Conflict Theodicy Additionally, it has been explained in Chapter 5 that, according to Scripture, humans now live in a condition which is no longer the original one that God created for humankind in the Garden of Eden. The original condition was ideal for humans. However, when humans chose to reject God, this choice carried with it the implication that they did not want him to rule their lives and their environment. Thus they and their environment lost its original blessed state under the rule of God. It has also been explained in previous chapters that, according to the Cosmic Conflict Theodicy, angels who had free will had chosen to sin before the Fall of humans, and they subsequently caused destruction to God’s creation. The Scripture portrays angelic beings as having the power to (1) incite people to do evil (Job 1:15–17; Luke 22:3: ‘And Satan entered into Judas’) and (2) cause natural disasters (Job 1:19). DeWeese (2013, p. 63) notes that the ‘Gospels abound with accounts of physical effects caused directly by demonic activity: dumbness (Matt. 9:32–33); blindness (Matt. 12:22–23); epileptic seizures (Matt. 17:14–18); supernatural strength (Mark 5:1–10); physical deformity (Luke 13:10–13).’ Fallen angels could have caused calamities directly, or indirectly through altering the processes of nature, and this could explain why suffering already existed in the biosphere before the existence of humans (see Chapter 4), as well as the apparently pointless suffering in the natural world, such as the death of a fawn in a forest fire.

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The Adamic Fall Theodicy proposed in this book postulates that the purpose of the six days of creation in Genesis 1–2 was to create a Cosmic Temple for humans in the Garden of Eden (Walton 2009). This could have been a divinely protected and limited geographical location which was surrounded by areas of non-ideal conditions (McGrath 1997). Sadly, the ideal condition of Eden was lost to humans when they chose to disobey God. Being cast out of Eden and relationally separated from the Source of life (God)—which is what it means to live in a Fallen World—they died spiritually (Ephesians 2:1) and eventually physically. When they chose to follow the serpent, the logical consequence would be to follow the course of this Fallen World and ‘the ruler of the power of the air, the spirit that is now at work among those who are disobedient’ (Ephesians 2:2–3). Being cast out of Eden, humans live in a Fallen World in which God seems far off, in which humans have to face the forces of nature, the moral evil within their own hearts, as well as destructions caused by Satan (Job 1–2 indicate that the devil could influence evil people to do evil deeds [1:15, 17], and the devil could also cause natural disasters [1:19]). When looking at the massive amount of suffering in this world, such as the suffering children in Africa, or when facing instances of injustices, people would often ask, ‘God, where are you?’ Atheists would argue that the non-existence of God is a better explanation for such phenomena. However, such an argument fails to realize that the Adamic Fall Theodicy, the doctrine of Original Sin, and the reasons for divine hiddenness (Chapter 7) explain this phenomenon equally well. That is, given these doctrines, humans live in a Fallen World which is non-ideal, one of the non-ideal conditions being that it often appears as if God is absent, and this is the logical consequence that follows from human rejection of God. Many atheists have also argued that a world created by a perfect God should not have certain imperfect features such as humans being susceptible to cognitive biases (Park 2018),2 including bias towards incorrect religious beliefs such as idolatry, and tragic moral dilemmas such as a mother being forced to choose which of her two children to hand over to be killed by the Nazis.3 In reply, such imperfections are again what we ought to expect given a Fallen World and reasons for divine hiddenness, as well as the Angelic Fall theodicy (with its postulation of Satan the deceiver who is responsible for misleading people and causing them to have false religious beliefs) which have been explained in previous chapters (see also Chapter 7 for the response to the cognitive bias objection). In a Fallen World, there would be many disordered events, ‘pointless’ accidents, sicknesses, plagues, and pitiless natural disasters (e.g. forest fires), the occurrence of events which are ‘unfair’ and which ‘shouldn’t’ happen, and many instances of unequal suffering, unequal blessings, and unequal opportunities (van Inwagen 2006, pp. 84–90). For humans to live in such a Fallen World is the result of the sin of their ancestors (see the Connection Building Theodicy discussed in Chapter 6) as well as their own (see the discussion on Original Sin in Chapter 6). Ekstrom (2021, p. 25) objects that ‘inherited diseases, abusive injuries inflicted on young children and infants, non-human animal suffering, and childhood cancers stand in tension with a punishment theodicy,’ i.e. one which claims that ‘some or all instances of pain and suffering are punishment for sin’ (p. 23).

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However, given what I have argued in Chapters 4–6 concerning the possibility of animal sin, the universality of human sin, and the depth of depravity of humankind, there are reasons to doubt Ekstrom’s judgement. Even so-called ‘good people’ do sin, and Christians are no exception. The arguments in Chapter 5 support the conclusion of the eminent sociologist Harald Welzer: We are left then with the most discomforting of all realities—ordinary, ‘normal’ people committing acts of extraordinary evil. This reality is difficult to admit, to understand, to absorb … As we look at the perpetrators of genocide and mass killing, we need no longer ask who these people are. We know who they are. They are you and I. (Welzer 2008, pp. 148–9) It is therefore also possible that many sufferings which we think are undeserved are actually deserved, and that it is God’s mercy which saves men from more suffering which they do deserve (Geisler 1998, pp. 219–24). (Scripture indicates that there might be some such as Job who do suffer what they do not deserve; these should be understood as cases of moral testing as explained in Section 8.2; see further the discussion on soul-making and the overcoming of injustice in Sections 8.5 and 8.7.) Cottingham (2017, p. 24) notes that: although the so-called problem of evil is invariably taken by philosophers to be concerned with undeserved suffering, there is also another kind of ‘problem of evil’ that impinges on us all as agents rather than patients: the problem that we all to a greater or lesser extent blight our lives by harming others or failing them in compassion and love. This is the ‘wretchedness’ of humankind of which Pascal spoke and which he saw as redeemable only by the grace of God.

8.4 Many people need to experience suffering first before turning to God Because of the universality and depth of depravity of the human moral condition, many people—including apparently ‘good’ and ‘innocent’ people—may need to first experience the fallenness of this world before they would truly desire to draw near to God and hence experience the ultimate good. For it is often (though not always) the case that, when people are materially rich and successful, they would become arrogant and have the misconception that they could create their own paradise in this Fallen World. The indulgence in material things would numb their minds and cause them to live in their own dreams, and the pursuit of cars, properties, etc. would fill their lives with excitement and cause them not to think about the final destination of their lives. Many times God allows suffering to occur because this is the only way people can be awakened from their self-centred dreams, face the real world, and find the true meaning of life. In this way God allows suffering for their ultimate good.

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Those who realized the consequences of sin and who would be willing to turn to God would eventually look to him who cares about our grievances and who would right all wrongs one day. They would pray, ‘Your Kingdom Come, Your will be done on earth as it is in heaven’ (Matthew 6:10), and they would look forward to the coming of the Eternal Kingdom promised in Scripture. At that time, the tabernacle of God would be among men, and: He will dwell among them, and they shall be His people, and God Himself will be among them, and He will wipe away every tear from their eyes; and there will no longer be any death; there will no longer be any mourning, or crying, or pain; the first things have passed away. (Revelation 21:3–4) Many people can testify that their experience of suffering was their path to moral and spiritual awakening. One of them is Dr Richard Teo (1972–2012), who in his thirties had achieved what many people have dreamt about by becoming a medical doctor and a millionaire. Richard writes: ‘From young, I’ve always been under the influence and impression that to be happy is to be successful. And to be successful is to be wealthy.’4 After achieving financial success through his aesthetics practice and buying his first Ferrari, he was invited to church by one of his friends. However, he thought, ‘I had achieved all these things without God today, so who needs God? I myself can achieve anything I want.’5 In March 2011, out of the blue he had a backache and was diagnosed with terminal lung cancer. In his illness he writes: Over the last few months, I started to understand what this true joy is about. In the past, I substituted true joy with the pursuing of wealth. I thought true joy is about pursuing wealth. Why? Cos let me put it to you this way, in my death bed, I found no joy whatsoever in whatever objects I had—my Ferrari, thinking of the land I was going to buy to build my bungalow etc, having a successful business. It brought me ZERO comfort, ZERO joy, nothing at all. Do you think I can hold onto this piece of metal and it’s going to give true joy? Nah, it’s not going to happen. True joy I discovered comes from interaction … Interaction with my loved ones, my friends, my brothers in Christ, my sisters in Christ … True joy comes from helping others in hardship … And most importantly, I think true joy comes from knowing God. Not knowing about God … but knowing God personally; getting a relationship with God. I think that’s the most important. That’s what I’ve learnt. So if I were to sum it up, I’d say that the earlier we sort out the priorities in our lives, the better it is. Don’t be like me—I had no other way. I had to learn it through the hard way.6 Ekstrom (2021, p. 86) questions the assumption that the immense good of intimacy with a loving God could not be achieved in any better way other than through suffering.

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In reply, the burden of proof is on the atheist (see Chapter 2) to disprove this assumption, which in any case has plausibility for at least some people given the doctrine of Original Sin defended in earlier chapters. That is, given the evidence of moral depravity that affects human beings, and given the personal testimonies of people such as Dr Richard Teo’s, it is plausible that at least some human beings need to experience suffering first, before they would be willing to humble themselves and turn to God, thus avoiding the harm of eternal separation from God. Consider also the perspective of an ‘innocent sufferer’ Nick Vujicic, who was born without arms and legs. In his younger days he was very depressed even to the point of thinking of committing suicide, but he later came to know more about Jesus and trusted in him and discovered joy and hope. He now experiences a life that is more joyful and meaningful than many people who have arms and legs, and he travels to different parts of the world to share with others the love of God which he has experienced, and to encourage those who are feeling depressed and hopeless (Vujicic 2015). Understanding the meaning of life is therefore the key to understanding why God allows suffering. The experiences of people like Vujicic challenge the assumption that the purpose of life is physical wellbeing, on the basis of which one might complain that people without physical wellbeing are unfairly treated by God. However, this assumption is wrong. There are many people who have wealth and health but who committed suicide because they thought that it was no longer meaningful to live on. On the other hand, there are many people like Vujicic who lack physical wellbeing but who experience a life that is more joyful and meaningful than those of many people who have it. Just as money is not an end in itself, physical wellbeing is also not an end in itself. They are means to an end in the sense that they can be used to attain our goals in life, but they are not the necessary conditions. Having a genetic disease does not mean that a person will not have a meaningful life. Vujicic would say that the meaning of life is to experience overflowing joy and love in Christ and to love others, and that God would freely give such an abundant life to anyone who would seek him. The experiences of victims of ‘innocent’ suffering such as Vujicic are evidence that the sufferers themselves can often perceive how suffering can be defeated whereas sceptics often cannot. Only the omniscient God would know whether in heaven the sufferer would think that the suffering was worthwhile. Those who died without the chance to live fulfilling lives might have a chance in the afterlife. If there is an afterlife, then the inequalities that we observe in this life are only a small portion of our total existence, and the inequalities may be ‘balanced out’ in the afterlife. That is, it is possible that in the afterlife innocent sufferers who choose to trust in God and do the right thing would receive more blessings than others, such that, from an eternal perspective, all would be fair.

8.5 Addressing the deontological objection Anti-theodicists have objected that theodicy seems to assume a morally faulty instrumentalism or utilitarianism. Contrary to utilitarians, deontologists would

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argue that what is more important for moral evaluation is the intrinsic feature of an action rather than the consequence of the action, and that ‘an act is morally right if and only if and because it minimizes pro tanto duty violations by its agent’ (Mooney 2019, p. 444). Many anti-theodicists would claim that, if there is a God, he has a duty to prevent and eliminate rape, slaughter, torture, etc., and that to calculate the benefits (eternal or otherwise) of allowing those behaviours seems like a kind of utilitarianism calculation, which is unacceptable to a deontologist.7 For example, Trakakis (2017, p. 127) objects that for theodicists to suggest that evil is permitted by God for the sake of some higher end is ‘open to the Kantian criticism that it negates the inherent worth and dignity of persons by treating them as mere means to some end rather than as ends in themselves.’ Likewise, D.Z. Phillips objects that for theodicists to suggest that God allows evils for the instrumental purpose that we develop moral character involves ‘the objectionable instrumentalism in which the sufferings of others are treated as an opportunity for me to be shown at my best. Ironically, if I think of their sufferings in this way, I am shown at my worst’ (Phillips 2005, p. 63). Theodicists such as Eleonore Stump and Marilyn Adams have replied by defending theodicies in which the good which justifies a sufferer’s pain must be a benefit for that sufferer (Betenson 2016, p. 61), and not merely (say) for the benefit of others to develop their moral character (although that could also be a consideration for why [say] God does not intervene directly but wants people to help the suffering of and hence learn to love one another; see the Connection Building Theodicy explained previously). However, Betenson (2016, p. 61) objects by claiming that the approach of Stump et al. remains bound by the mechanisms of a faulty consequentialist justification via compensation, citing Phillips who remarks that ‘To rescue sufferings from degradation by employing cost–benefit analysis, is like rescuing a prostitute from degradation by telling her to charge higher fees’ (Phillips 2005, p. 71). Likewise, Bishop (2018a, p. 32) argues that ‘it would be morally unconscionable for God (or any moral agent, for that matter) to permit the woman to be raped for the sake of some greater benefit.’ Sterba (2019, pp. 12–13) argues, on the basis of an ideal political state which would take away the freedom of some of its members (e.g. freedom to assault others) in order to protect important freedom (e.g. freedom from being assaulted) of its members, that if there is a God he should do the same. Sterba (2019, Chapter 9) also argues that, whereas lesser evils may be permitted for the sake of maintaining freedom, horrendous evils ought to have been prevented by divine intervention if God exists. In reply, it can be argued that the aforementioned rules and duties are based on certain values (e.g. the value of freedom and autonomy, which is violated in the case of rape), that some moral duties are higher than others, and that the ranking of moral duties should be based on considerations of value (e.g. the duty to save a human being is higher than the duty to save an animal, because a human being is more valuable). Now it has been explained previously that the greatest value in the universe is love, in particular to love God and others, and that this would involve freedom, significant moral responsibility, and the possibility of forming deep connections, all of which are important for a meaningful human life. Thus, it can be argued that God has the prerogative to create and sustain a world that matters, i.e.:

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For God to end massive amounts of horrendous evil immediately would mean: transforming the world from a world that matters into a world that doesn’t matter … It would mean turning this world into a world where people don’t do anything of great moral significance, such as a world where people spend most of their time plugged into pleasure machines. (Mooney 2019, pp. 455–6) Sterba’s ideal political state as an analogy for how God should act is a false analogy, because (unlike God) such a political state is not the Creator nor the metaphysical ground of moral values. Given the previous points about creating a world that matters, God would create a world in which the duty to prevent and eliminate rape, to create a fair and just society, etc. is temporarily given to humans, God would not intervene all the time but allow humans to exercise these duties and significant moral responsibilities and to go through moral testing, and eventually God would intervene and put a stop to all evil and enforce fairness at the Final Judgement (as taught by many religious traditions). Sterba’s objection that horrendous evils ought to have been prevented by divine intervention fails to consider the reasons for divine hiddenness (see Chapter 7) before the Final Judgement. A theodicist does not have to hold to the view that ‘the good which justifies a sufferer’s pain must be a benefit for that sufferer.’ Rather, a theodicist can hold to the view that ‘the good for which God allows a sufferer’s pain must involve a benefit for that sufferer if the sufferer is not guilty of any moral evil that would deserve such a suffering as retributive punishment.’ This view is not guilty of a faulty consequentialist justification via compensation. As Craig (2013) observes, on consequentialism the rightness of an action is solely determined by the beneficial consequences for people (the Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy’s article on consequentialism likewise defines it as ‘the view that normative properties depend only on consequences,’ Sinnott-Armstrong 2021). On the other hand: deontologists don’t just ignore the consequences of one’s actions. They will consider the outcomes of actions when determining if a certain moral principle applies. For example, consider a doctor who is treating a patient suffering from advanced cervical cancer. This doctor may hold to the moral principle that a doctor should not inflict unnecessary suffering on a patient. Suppose he determines that the patient’s cancer is so advanced that round after round of chemotherapy and surgery would be ultimately unavailing and

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would result in months of unremitting suffering for his patient. In such a case he may decide that it would be wrong to prescribe such a course of treatment for the patient. I think you can see that consideration of consequences can be relevant factually to deciding which moral principle is applicable in a situation. (Craig 2013) Therefore, ‘taking into account the consequences of permitting some instance of suffering or evil doesn’t make one a consequentialist’ (Craig 2013). Given this explanation, it can be seen that on ‘faulty consequentialism’ it would be right for God to violate the free will of human agents so that all of them would choose him and go to heaven. Whereas on my view this is not so. On my view the justification is not based on compensation but on values of love and the prerogatives based on love, which involve allowing humans the right to exercise their free will in morally significant ways. The beneficial consequences are one of the considerations but not the sole consideration nor the main consideration. Moreover, given my view, Phillips’ comparison with ‘rescuing a prostitute from degradation by telling her to charge higher fees’ (Phillips 2005, p. 71) would be a false analogy. For as explained, my view is not based on utilitarian calculation or ‘cost–benefit analysis,’ although it does take benefit into account. Additionally, the benefit in question is not in terms of financial reward, which we recognize is less morally valuable compared to the human dignity violated by prostitution. Rather, on my view the benefit is in terms of love, closer union with the divine, and being part of a morally significant world in which forming deep and significant connections with one another, overcoming of evil and forgiveness of enemies (a mark of dignity!), and living a meaningful life are possible. Additionally, in response to Bishop, one might ask, is there some trauma (e.g. rape) that should not be allowed under any circumstance, no matter what the benefit might be? Stump notes that ‘in modern medical practice we are often willing to subject human beings to suffering for the sake of an increase in the degree of biological health, or even an increase in the duration of mere biological life’ (Stump 2018, p. 19). What about the benefit of eternal life? Furthermore, Bishop fails to consider the experiences of those rape victims who have claimed to have drawn closer to God as a result (Knapik, Martsolf, and Draucker 2008). This does not justify rape, nor justify humans allowing rape, but it is part (not the whole) of the justification for why God allows rape. Trakakis (2018a, pp. 32–3) objects that there are two disanalogies between medical procedure and rape: (i) consent: the person undergoing the procedure, or their guardian, gives their consent, whereas the victim of torture and rape does not consent to their suffering; and (ii) degradation: the person suffering at the hands of the surgeon, unlike the rape victim, is not degraded, dishonored, and dehumanized in such a way that they are led to consider their life no longer worth living.

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In response to (1), one might ‘appeal to the notion of “virtual” consent, the consent a sufferer would have given had he understood the full picture from the vantage point of his enjoying the “compensation” of ultimate participation in the supreme good’ (Bishop 2018a, p. 28). Gleeson (2018, p. 207) objects that no compassionate moral agent can agree to the degradation of a child simply on the basis of what the child can one day be persuaded to agree to. However, in response to (2), medical treatment can sometimes have effects which may be regarded as ‘degraded, dishonoured, and dehumanized in such a way that they are led to consider their life no longer worth living.’ Stump (2018, p. 37) notes that ‘the debility, weakness, loss of function, cognitive impairment, and other such effects of chemotherapy, for example, do diminish the kind of human flourishing we care about, at least in the short run, but often enough permanently.’ One might claim that ‘the supreme good for the sake of which God permits horrific suffering is so incommensurably great that it secures a justification far in excess of the admittedly limited justification a finite agent might have for permitting preventable suffering’ (Bishop 2018a, p. 28). By bringing people into closer union with God, suffering can bring people to what they ought to be and having the ultimate desires of their hearts, viz. the desires for Truth, Goodness, and Beauty satisfied (contra Bishop 2018a, p. 29). Finally, it has been argued that God is the foundation of morality (Baggett and Walls 2016), and the greatest harm to living a good life is moving further away from God. Stump argues that: On our ordinary moral intuitions … for suffering that is involuntary simpliciter, warding off a greater harm for a person is a morally acceptable reason for allowing suffering, if the suffering is the best or only means available in the circumstances to that end. (Stump 2010, pp. 392–3) The supposition that ‘if God knew that a particular case of suffering would not have the effect of moving a person closer to God, God would not allow that suffering’ is false (p. 403). On the other hand, ‘it might be the case that without the suffering the sufferer would be moved even further away from God than he currently is’ (p. 403). It is possible that God knows that the allowance of suffering might prevent more serious harm in the future. This is often the case in healthcare, where suffering is often inflicted even without the free choice of a patient, i.e. without their consent (e.g. vaccination given to young children) (Hordern 2019). It is also important to bear in mind that, according to traditional Christian doctrine, death is not the end for people who choose to trust God and do good. On the contrary, there is eternal life with ‘an eternal weight of glory far beyond all comparison’ (2 Corinthians 4:16–18), relative to which the present suffering is only momentary and light. Paul’s statement is not intended to trivialize suffering, but to point to the glorious hope that believers have in Christ. Against such reasoning, Sterba (2019, pp. 56–7) claims that: in contexts where what is at issue is whether to permit significant evil to prevent a greater evil, it would never be morally permissible for God to

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permit either evil because God would always be able to prevent both evils in such cases. However, Sterba fails to note that God cannot do what is logically impossible (see Chapter 2), and it is logically impossible to will someone to continue existing, give the person significant free will, and yet forcibly prevent the person from drawing away from God. In such cases, letting the person experience suffering may be the only means available such that the person after experiencing the suffering would not freely choose to draw even further away from God.

8.6 Isn’t God still ultimately responsible? Wainwright (2001) raises an objection by arguing that libertarians who accept foreknowledge face the same sort of difficulties as compatibilists since, in creating free agents whom he knows will freely sin if they are created, God knowingly ‘initiates a harmful causal sequence’ (p. 90; citing Jonathan Edwards). He elaborates: A person is responsible or accountable for events of which she is not the author if she was able to prevent their occurrence and knew that they would occur if she did not interfere. It follows that since God knew that Judas would betray Christ if he and Jesus were created, and created them, He is responsible or accountable for Judas’s betrayal even if he isn’t the author of that betrayal. (p. 87) Bishop (2018b, pp. 66–7) argues that, ‘given God’s ineliminable causal role as ultimately personally responsible for all horrendous suffering, God cannot avoid undermining the attainment of ideally loving personal relationship with created persons, whatever he does by way of compensation for the suffering.’ A sufferer who suffered from the consequences of others’ wrongdoings might complain why would God allow him/her to be born in a certain place and time and suffer the consequences of the wrongdoings? Sterba (2019) objects that one should never do evil that good may come of it, and in response to the objection that God does not do evil but permits it, Sterba objects that ‘permitting is an intentional act’ and that ‘when the evil is significant and one can easily prevent it, then permitting evil can become morally equivalent to doing it’ (p. 51). It has also been objected that God is still responsible if God has knowledge of levels of risk about rational creatures misbehaving (Gleeson 2018, p. 208), just like the CEO of a company taking final responsibility and resigning when his/her subordinates commit a serious error. Vitale (2020, p. 96) argues that: the causing/permitting principle will do even less justificatory work in the divine scenario, for at least four reasons. Firstly, God can always avert harm with divine ease, whereas human persons sometimes have to accept significant costs to themselves in order not to permit harm. Secondly, whereas

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Horrendous and apparently pointless evil human persons are sometimes obliged not to meddle in others’ affairs, no harm is outside the scope of God’s legitimate involvement. Thirdly, God, if he exists, has ultimate authority in all matters, and persons in authority are often as much or more to blame than their subjects when their inaction is a condition of their subjects’ action. It is ultimate authority of this sort that makes the commanding general responsible for a slaughter when he permits it by watching inactively from a nearby vantage point. Fourthly, as previously noted, there is nothing that God permits that doesn’t have divine acts factoring prominently, both in their ancestry and in their occurrence.

Vitale (2020) also argues that ‘the conceptual space between the related concepts of doing and allowing is markedly diminished when the agent under consideration is a divine being who is at every moment doing what it takes to sustain all things’ (p. 226). In reply, God is not ultimately responsible because he is not the first cause of evil, rather created libertarian agents who freely choose evil are the first causes of evil (see Chapter 3). This is an important point implied by the causing/permitting principle, i.e. God does not cause evil but permits creatures to freely cause evil. Wainwright’s phrase ‘initiates a harmful causal sequence’ is ambiguous; it can mean (1) ‘X causes Y to cause Z’ where Z is a harmful event, but it can also mean (2) ‘X causes Y who freely causes (i.e. is the first cause of) Z.’ (1) is affirmed by compatibilism whereas (2) is by libertarians. Whereas knowingly actualizing (1) is morally wrong, knowingly actualizing (2) is not. For example, I procreated my children knowing that they would certainly freely choose to do some wrong actions in their lives, but this does not mean that I am responsible in the sense of being guilty for their wrong actions, even though I could have prevented them by not having children altogether. The reason is because being libertarian free agents they are the ‘first causes’ of their freely chosen wrong actions. The objections by Sterba, Gleeson, and Vitale fail to consider the intentions, the moral principle, and the consequences. It is true that God permits evil. Nevertheless, it has been explained in previous sections of this book (1) that God’s intentions are good, (2) the moral principle and motivation for creating morally significant creatures who can affect one another positively or negatively (see Section 8.5), and that (3) God knows via his Middle Knowledge how the suffering would ultimately work out for good or prevent worse harm even though the sufferer might not see it now (see Section 8.5). (Considerations (2) and (3) are disanalogous from the aforementioned case of the CEO of a company.) Given these considerations, any grievances (e.g. complaints of unfairness) which the sufferers may have should not be directed against God. (Contra Rea [2018, p. 176], who claims that the religiously traumatized have understandable and fully justified grievances against God.) Rather, the grievances should be directed against those whose evil intentions and sins directly or indirectly caused their suffering. (It should be noted however that Joseph freely chose to forgive his brothers, even though they had sold him to slavery out of evil intentions. Compare with Jesus’ teaching to love and pray for one’s enemies in Luke 6:27–36.)

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8.7 Why does God let believers suffer? The Christian tradition affirms that, at times, God allows suffering to bring Christians into a closer relationship with him and to purify their character. One can be brought closer to God in recognizing one’s own powerlessness and by surrendering one’s will to God in the midst of affliction; this brings one in touch with the selfless and magnanimous Creator and allows one to receive a revelation of the beauty of God which is ‘the most perfect encounter with love possible in this life’ (Meister 2018, p. 164, citing Simone Weil 1968). Stump (2018, p. 18) notes that ‘God’s presence does not alter the fact of the suffering, but it makes consolation available in the suffering, to the extent to which the sufferer is able and willing to receive it.’ Concerning the purification of character, Job says, ‘But He knows the way that I take, when He has tested me, I will come forth as gold’ (Job 23:10). Just as certain sicknesses may require a surgeon to use a painful process to cut away certain bodily tissues for their cure, likewise certain character flaws may require God to use a painful process for their removal. The Scripture speaks of God using suffering to discipline his children (Hebrews 12:5–11). The purpose of discipline (Greek paideuó) is for the benefit of the believer: ‘for the Lord disciplines those whom he loves, and chastises every child whom he accepts.’ … For they disciplined us for a short time as seemed best to them, but he disciplines us for our good, in order that we may share his holiness. Now, discipline always seems painful rather than pleasant at the time, but later it yields the peaceful fruit of righteousness to those who have been trained by it. (Hebrews 12:6, 10) Some possible benefits of suffering include:         

A greater dependence on God (2 Corinthians 1:9; 12:7–10). Joy (Matthew 5:10–12; Luke 6:22–23; Acts 5:41; Romans 5:3–4; 2 Corinthians 12:10; Colossians 1:24; 1 Thessalonians 1:6; 1 Peter 4:13; Hebrews 10:34; James 1:2–4). Patience (2 Corinthians 1:6; James 5:10; Revelation 1:9). Courage (1 Thessalonians 2:2; Revelation 2:10). Perseverance/endurance (Romans 5:3; 1 Corinthians 4:12; 1 Thessalonians 1:3; 2 Timothy 2:3; 4:5; Hebrews 10:32, 36; 12:7; James 1:2–4, 12; 1 Peter 4:19; Revelation 1:9; 2:3, 10, 13). Character (Romans 5:3–4). Hope (Romans 5:3–4). A harvest of righteousness and peace (Hebrews 12:7, 11). Closeness to Jesus and identification with the sufferings of Christ (Philippians 3:10) the God-incarnate who participated in horrendous evil through his passion and death (Meister 2018, p. 166, citing Adams 1999 and noting

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Horrendous and apparently pointless evil that this is precisely the condition for which many Christian saints and mystics have prayed). A longing for heaven (Romans 8:17; Philippians 3:10; Hebrews 11:26, 35; 12:2–3; 13:13; Revelation 21:4). Thankfulness (1 Thessalonians 5:18). Blessing and kindness (1 Corinthians 4:12–13). Closer bonding with one another; for the benefit of others (1 Corinthians 12:25–26; 2 Corinthians 1:3–7; 8:2–4; Ephesians 3:13; Philippians 1:14; Colossians 1:24; 1 Thessalonians 3:2–4; 2 Timothy 2:8–10; Hebrews 13:3). Opportunities to show forgiveness to others (Matthew 5:39–45; 2 Timothy 4:16).

The Scripture’s teaching to love one’s enemies and forgive others (Stephen did that even when his enemies had not repented [Acts 7:60]) concerns the individual’s personal attitude; this does not deny the need to seek public justice. Nevertheless, it should be noted that, throughout history, those who suffer injustice often seek revenge and end up committing worse atrocities. In order to pursue and practise public justice in a healthy manner, people need to be healed from bitterness and hatred. God’s love and forgiveness can help a person to love and forgive others and be set free from bitterness and hatred. Different Christians experience inner healing to different extents; some Christians still remain bitter, for example. We cannot be sure how they have sought to know God, but the Scripture’s promise is that if we ourselves seek God with a spirit of humility, we will eventually experience God’s grace like many others have. ‘Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted’ (Matthew 5:3–4). The Buddhist tradition advises that a person facing suffering should seek to remove their delusions and illusions, as well as their selfishness and unwarranted desires. The Christian tradition agrees and would add that true joy comes from God and this is what a person should seek, whether in good times or bad. Because of the presence of the Lord which is mediated by the indwelling Holy Spirit, a Christian can experience a continual flow of joy that is not dependent on the circumstances. Commenting on Paul’s statement ‘rejoice in the Lord always’ (Philippians 4:4), written while he was suffering and locked up in prison, Biblical scholar Ajith Fernando writes: The happiest people in the world are not those who don’t have problems; it is those who are not afraid of problems. As Paul said, again from prison, the greatest wealth we can have is contentment (1 Timothy 6:6). A dreary prison is not a place which implies God’s blessing. But Paul was blessed, he was rich! Amid all the confusion of this time, let’s relish the wealth of contentment! (Fernando 2020) When we read the biographies of great people such as Abraham Lincoln, Martin Luther King, etc. we often find that their remarkable character has been moulded

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by suffering. Moreover, suffering has also allowed them to manifest their courage, determination, self-sacrifice, and moral and spiritual victory in the overcoming of it. Beethoven wrote some of the greatest masterpieces of music when he was deaf. Fanny Crosby wrote some of the most beloved hymns even though she was blind. If the element of suffering is taken away from their life stories, many of them would not have been as inspiring as they are. At times, God allows suffering to bring his children home. The resurrection of Jesus is evidence that there is life beyond death (Loke 2020a). For Christians, to depart from this world of suffering and to be with Christ forever is actually far better (Philippians 1:23). The reason God allows them to remain in this world is not because this world is better than heaven, but because God wants them to help others to know God and find real joy in Christ Jesus (Philippians 1:24–6)8 (see the Connection Building Theodicy in Chapter 6). There is a time for everything (Ecclesiastes 3:1–11), God’s promise is that he will work all things (even suffering and death) for the good of those who love him (Romans 8:28), hence Christians can give thanks in all circumstances (1 Thessalonians 5:16–18). At all times, God calls people to true inner peace in Jesus (John 16:33). As Jesus said, ‘These things I have spoken to you, so that in me you may have peace. In the world you have tribulation, but take courage; I have overcome the world’ (John 16:33). For the children of God, all suffering is temporary. To know God—the source of all goodness and love—is the greatest blessing, the ultimate goal in life. In heaven, those who trust God in the midst of suffering will receive an eternal blessing that will outweigh all suffering. For them, the present sufferings will only make the future appear more glorious. As Paul says: Therefore we do not lose heart, but though our outer man is decaying, yet our inner man is being renewed day by day. For momentary, light affliction is producing for us an eternal weight of glory far beyond all comparison, while we look not at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen; for the things which are seen are temporal, but the things which are not seen are eternal. (2 Corinthians 4:16–18)

8.8 Mystery and hope Even though Scripture indicates various general reasons which provide a framework that broadly explains why God allows suffering, we often do not know which reason(s) applies to which person for a specific instance of suffering, i.e. why God allows a particular person to undergo a particular suffering. Stump (2010, p. 14) clarifies that the project of theodicy: is different from the project of explaining the suffering of any particular person. In this respect, theodicy resembles clinical psychology or embryology or any other body of knowledge in which the possession of a general

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Horrendous and apparently pointless evil theory is not the same as the ability to apply that theory in any given particular case. Why this person should have become sick in this way, given her genetics and environment, may be mysterious to us, not because we lack the relevant theory, but because the information about this particular person that is necessary in order to apply the general theory to her case is lacking to us. Analogously, it is possible to have a general theory about the justification for God’s allowing human suffering in general without being able to understand why any given person suffered as he did. Theodicy is therefore not the project of proposing to explain God’s particular reasons for his dealings with any particular person or group of persons.

We must be careful not to commit fallacies of generalization. For example, although the Bible portrays God using or allowing (say) pestilence as a judgement on certain people in Exodus 9:14 (see also Amos 4:10; Revelation 6:8), it is invalid to assume that all sufferers of pestilence are being judged by God. Just as it is invalid to assume (as Job’s friends did) that the sufferings of Job—including the boils that he suffered from, which is also portrayed as a divine judgement in Exodus 9:10—were due to divine judgement (Analogy: the fact that Covid-19 has caused certain cases of pneumonia does not imply that all cases of pneumonia are caused by Covid-19). Therefore, we should not assume (for example) that the Covid-19 pandemic was a judgement sent by God tout court. Concerning the origins of the virus, there are a few possibilities: 1

2

3

God did not create the Covid-19 virus, rather the virus originated as a mutation caused by human beings. The Christian doctrine of creation does not exclude the possibility of humans modifying and disrupting God’s creation. God did not create the Covid-19 virus, rather the virus originated as a mutation caused by the devil. As noted in earlier chapters, the Scriptures affirm that the devil is capable of inflicting illnesses and disasters. Just as humans can disrupt God’s creation, the devil can do it too. God created the Covid-19 virus (perhaps using a natural process such as evolution), but it was not intended for harming humans initially. In general, viruses have many important and beneficial roles in the history of the biosphere, and many of these roles are still being discovered. For example, Herpesviruses can help humans suppress HIV infection and plant viruses confer drought and cold tolerance to plants (Roossinck 2011). The Covid-19 virus might have important roles in the biosphere (perhaps at an earlier point in history) which we have not yet discovered.

One might ask, couldn’t God have created other living organisms with these beneficial roles but without the harms? One can reply that, in line with God’s will to give humans morally significant freedom (see Chapter 5), God created a world in which living things are dependent on one another and can be used for good or evil. Many viruses can be used for medical research in the development of

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treatments; for example, they are now being used to target and kill cancer cells, and to treat a variety of genetic diseases as gene and cell therapy tools (Mietzsch and Agbandje-McKenna 2017). On the other hand, human misuse of their morally significant freedom, such as their mismanagement of wildlife, can result in diseases passing from animals to humans. Moreover, as explained in Chapter 5, according to the Scripture, when God created the first human beings, they were placed inside a localized protected environment in the Garden of Eden, and were commanded to subdue the earth. It could be the case that, if they had not sinned and with divine protection, they could have subdued the earth without being harmed by harmful organisms including harmful viruses. To modify Augustine’s argument concerning ‘thorns and thistles’ (The Literal Meaning of Genesis, 1:3:18; see Augustine 1982, pp. 93–4), it could be that, in view of the many advantages found in different kinds of viruses, these viruses had a place on earth without afflicting the first humans in any way prior to their sin. However, after they sinned, they no longer lived under the special protection of God and are now vulnerable to diseases caused by viruses. On the other hand, as explained previously, God can allow suffering, including suffering inflicted by viruses, for various purposes. For some people, the virus may be one of the means of punishment for their sins, but for others, it may be a form of testing, soul-making, etc. We should be careful about speculating what the specific reason is when attempting to comfort someone who is suffering. As Peckham (2018, p. 131) observes: However well-meaning they were, Job’s friends added to Job’s sufferings by their attempts to make sense of precisely what was happening to him … Job’s friends did not know what they were talking about. When we face individual instances of evil, we also do not know what we are talking about (short of divine revelation). We thus might remain silent relative to explanation and reserve our voices to grieve with those who grieve (as in the book of Lamentations). Likewise: when our prayers are not answered as we had hoped, we should not assume that we did something wrong, did not pray hard enough, or did not have enough faith (cf. Matt. 26:39; Luke 22:32) … Here, Christ’s prayer in Gethsemane is especially instructive. ‘If it is possible,’ Christ prayed, ‘let this cup pass from Me; yet not as I will, but as You will’ (Matt. 26:39; cf. 6:10). The qualification ‘if it is possible’ indicates that some avenues are not available to God, given his commitments and goals. In this case, God could not accomplish his greater desire of saving humans without Christ enduring the cross. (p. 160) Peckham explains that ‘when God does not respond to our prayers as we might hope, doing so might have been against the rules of engagement, subverted

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creaturely freedom, or resulted in greater evil’ (p. 159), which might explain why God sometimes appears to respond to some prayers but not others. The observation that God sometimes intervenes in one situation but does not do so in another similar situation is indicated by Scriptural portrayals of how Herod is able to put James to death, but Peter is freed from prison by an angel (Acts 12:1–11). Peckham explains: It may be that in some cases the rules permit God to intervene by alerting someone in a way sufficient to prevent evil, while in other similar cases, the rules at that time and place might not permit God to do so … Since we are not privy to the rules of engagement, which are themselves dynamic and connected to numerous factors (including, but not limited to, prayer and faith), we are not in a position to know when a given event falls within the enemy’s jurisdiction such that God’s intervention is restricted. (Peckham 2018, p. 111) God’s wisdom and love are far beyond ours, and thus there must be good reasons why he allows us to go through suffering, even though we often cannot determine for each situation what the specific reason is.

8.9 Lessons from the Book of Job The Book of Job conveys a similar point. It portrays Job as a righteous person who trusted God, but he endured much hardship in his life. When God appeared to him, God did not tell him the specific reason why he suffered, but simply asked him a series of questions. Job did not know the reason he suffered, but he chose to submit to God. Some of the sufferings that Job went through are trials of the most severe kind. Consider the recent Haiti earthquake on 14 August 2021 in which thousands of people died, including many children who were attending a baptism ceremony in church. Looking at their dead bodies, a man interviewed by the BBC couldn’t help but ask, ‘Does God exist?’ Job understood suffering like this. His children also died of natural disaster, despite him offering frequent sacrifices to God on their behalf (Job 1:5): Your sons and daughters were eating and drinking wine in their eldest brother’s house, and suddenly a great wind came across the desert, struck the four corners of the house, and it fell on the young people, and they are dead. (Job 1:18–19) Such news must have shocked Job to the core. Yet even in his deepest sorrow and mourning he continued to submit to God: Then Job arose, tore his robe, shaved his head, and fell on the ground and worshiped. He said, ‘Naked I came from my mother’s womb, and naked

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shall I return there; the LORD gave, and the LORD has taken away; blessed be the name of the LORD.’ (Job 1:20–21) Rea (2018) raises an objection by claiming that ‘if delivering a theodicy is among the aims of Job, the theodicy that is given is both implausible and disappointing’ (p. 142). He argues that: Job is not given any explicit defense of God’s justice or goodness. Precisely where we might expect scripture to deliver a theodicy, we are given none … the upshot of the divine speeches is that God is powerful and completely in charge of creation whereas, by comparison, human beings are very small and of little account. If that content is intended to provide God’s answer to the question, ‘How is it that you are justified in allowing innocent people like Job to suffer horribly?’ then the answer seems just to be ‘might makes right.’ That is hardly plausible even as a general principle, much less a theodicy. (Rea 2018, p. 142) There are a number of problems with Rea’s assessment. To begin, Rea misses the point of the prologue of Job, which provides an account of why God actually permits the suffering of Job, i.e. a theodicy! Although God did not tell Job the specific reason why he suffered, we know from the prologue that there is a reason: The LORD said to Satan, ‘Have you considered My servant Job? For there is no one like him on the earth, a blameless and upright man, fearing God and turning away from evil.’ Then Satan answered the LORD, ‘Does Job fear God for nothing? Have You not made a hedge about him and his house and all that he has, on every side? You have blessed the work of his hands, and his possessions have increased in the land. But put forth Your hand now and touch all that he has; he will surely curse You to Your face.’ (Job 1:8–11) This passage indicates that the reason God allowed Job to go through the test of suffering is to reveal that the grounds of his good life and devotion to God are not because God has protected him and blessed him (Job 1:8–10). Augustine (City of God, Chapter 9) writes that God allowed Job to undergo suffering so that ‘the human spirit may be proved, and that it may be manifested with what fortitude of pious trust, and with how unmercenary a love, it cleaves to God.’ As noted earlier in this book, such a vindication is morally valuable, and the manifestation of Job’s character sets a valuable example for others to follow. As McFarland (2014, p. 121) observes, Satan’s initial challenge to God, ‘Does Job fear God for nothing?’ (1:9), suggests that ‘the central question of the book is less the problem of innocent suffering than the grounds of human religious devotion.’

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Citing the portrayal of God mentioning the leviathan in Job 41, Walton (2012) objects to the use of theodicy by stating that the point of the portrayal is that we cannot domesticate God (Walton 2012). However, the fact that we cannot domesticate God does not imply that we should forget about theodicy. On the contrary, as explained in the rest of this section, the Prologue of Job provides some indications of a theodicy. Although we might not know the exact reasons why some people suffer in certain cases, this does not mean that we cannot understand any reasons at all. On the contrary, numerous Scriptural passages including the Prologue of Job (and other passages explained elsewhere in this book) indicate some reasons why God allows suffering in general. In the case of Job, ‘God uses Satan’s malice toward Job to make Job magnificent in goodness, and by that means he thwarts Satan’s efforts to turn Job into a rebel against God’ (Stump 2010, p. 226). Rea (2018, p. 142 n10) claims that ‘Job 2:3 has God remarking to the satan that he had incited [God] against [Job], to destroy him for no reason.’ However, ‘for no reason’ in the context means that Job was not suffering what he deserved; this does not mean that the testing itself has no purpose. On the contrary, as explained the testing serves as a vindication of Job. Moreover, Rea also seems to have missed the point of the series of questions which God asks Job in Chapters 38–42. The point is not that ‘might makes right’ as Rea says. Rather, the series of questions points Job to the wonders of God’s creation which made Job realize the infinitude of God’s knowledge and the finitude of human understanding. Given this, it is no wonder that there might be good reasons why God allows suffering which are known to God but unknown to us. Job was thus able to rest assured in his knowledge that there is a God who is in control and who knows what he is doing even if Job doesn’t, and he was able to meet God in his suffering and experience comfort as a result (Job 42:1–5). Stump (2010, pp. 187–9) observes that the divine speech to Job conveys not just God’s attributes of power and knowledge for creation of the earth, but also God as a person, in personal relationships with his creation. She writes: The animals are portrayed as responding to God’s attention to them by interacting with God in second-personal ways. For example, the raven’s young do not just cry when they are hungry; they cry to God (Job 38: 41). Young and helpless animals are described as having a personal relationship with God—and so are powerful, fully grown animals. (p. 189) Moreover, Job himself had the second-person experience of God while God is talking to him. ‘“I had heard of you by the hearing of the ear,” Job says to God, “but now my own eye has seen you”’ (Job 42:5). ‘While God has been talking to him, Job has been, somehow, seeing God. The communication between God and Job is thus, in some sense, face-to-face communication’ (Stump 2010, p. 192). Stump elaborates: When Job raised his accusations against God’s goodness, his charge was not a metaphysical complaint raised for philosophical reasons. It was a personal

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complaint. Before the start of the suffering described in the narrative, Job had a history of trust in God and obedience to God, as Job himself makes clear in his speeches to the comforters. Job’s protest against God thus includes a charge of betrayal of trust. But for this charge, a face-to-face encounter can make all the difference. To answer a mistaken charge of betrayal, a person who loves you can try to explain, or she can just face you and let you see her. (p. 192) To communicate with Job in this way is also a manifestation of God’s love towards Job. As Stump (2010, p. 192) notes, ‘if in the narrative Job can somehow see God, who loves his creatures as a parent loves her children, he will also see, or know in some other way, that he is encompassed by that love as well.’ She concludes: The sight of the face of a God whose parental love is directed even toward rain and ravens is also an explanation of Job’s suffering. It explains Job’s suffering to Job not by giving him knowledge that, but by giving him Franciscan knowledge of persons with respect to God and God’s relations to Job. This is a second-personal explanation. Like knowledge of persons, it is nonpropositional and so not the sort of thing to be true or false; but it can be a veridical explanation nonetheless. (p. 193) The nature of Job’s response to God has been disputed by scholars, with Rea (2018, p. 142) remarking that ‘it is hardly clear that he repents of his accusations against God.’ Commenting on Job 42:6, Brinks (2013, p. 372) writes: The meaning of the book of Job to some extent hinges on the meaning of this verse, and so the translation one chooses shapes the interpretation of the whole book. Indeed, one scholar noted about the enigmatic 42:6 that it is ‘perhaps the most vexed issue in the entire book,’ and the lack of consensus for its translation means that ‘interpreters make, rather than find, the text which they interpret (Tilley (1989), 260).’ Brink cites Balentine (2006, pp. 692–701) who lists five options: 1 2 3 4 5

‘Therefore I despise myself and repent upon dust and ashes’ (i.e., in humiliation; cf. NRSV; NIV). ‘Therefore I retract my words and repent of dust and ashes’ (i.e., the symbols of mourning) (Habel 1985, p. 575). ‘Therefore I reject and forswear dust and ashes’ (i.e., the symbols of mourning) (Patrick 1976, pp. 369–70). ‘Therefore I retract my words and have changed my mind concerning dust and ashes’ (i.e., the human condition) (Janzen 1985, pp. 255–9). ‘Therefore I retract my words, and I am comforted concerning dust and ashes’ (i.e., the human condition) (Perdue 1991, p. 232).

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Concerning (1), Balentine acknowledges that ‘Job may be understood to recant his limited understanding of creation’s design and to acknowledge that he now sees a world that requires him to reassess his place within it’ (Balentine 2006, p. 695). However, he rejects this understanding because he thinks that ‘repent concerning dust and ashes’ is the more proper translation, i.e. ‘“changes his mind” about what “dust and ashes” now means for him’ (p. 695). He argues that the phrase ‘dust and ashes’ signifies something about the human condition in relation to God, as indicated by the three times it occurs in the Old Testament: Genesis 18:27;9 Job 30:19;10 and Job 42:6. Balentine thinks that what Job 42:6 conveys is that: having listened in as God celebrates the virtues of Behemoth and Leviathan, Job now understands that there is indeed a place in God’s world for creatures that refuse to submit to forces that would rob them of their dignity by reducing them to slaves to wanton misery. Like them, God has endowed human beings with power and responsibility for their domains. They too have been created to be fierce and unbridled opponents of injustice, sometimes with God, sometimes against God, even if it means they will lose the fight. (Balentine 2006, p. 698) However, Balentine’s conclusion does not follow. Even if Job 42:6 should be understood as Job changing his mind about what the human condition in relation to God now means for him, it does not follow that what it now means for him is that humans should be ‘fierce and unbridled opponents of injustice … sometimes against God.’ On the contrary, Job was already opposing God before God spoke to him and made him realize that he was using words without knowledge (38:2) when he accused God of injustice (40:2, 7). After God pointed out to Job that God is infinite in wisdom, power, and authority and that God cares for his creation, ‘sends rain on the dry land, provides food for lions and ravens, and cares for other animals’ (Newell 1984, p. 304), Job came to acknowledge his finitude (40:4) and said, ‘I have uttered what I did not understand, things too wonderful for me, which I did not know’ (42:3). Thus Job changes his mind about what the human condition in relation to God now means for him, in the sense that he now realizes he has no basis for accusing God of injustice. The book’s genre as Wisdom Literature and the general interest in ‘the fear of the Lord’ found in Wisdom Literature also support the view that Job repents and returns to fearing the Lord (Newell 1984, p. 302). Against the view that Job repented, some have objected that Job’s suffering was not a result of sin in the first place. However, the foregoing view is not saying that Job repented of the sin that led to his suffering, but rather ‘of the growing bitterness of his spirit and his accusations that God was unjust. He turns away from his earlier intention to bring charges against God for treating him unfairly’ (Longman 2012, p. 450). Job’s realization that he had declared things he did not understand, things too wonderful, which he did not know (Job 42.3) is in line with the view of Sceptical Theism defended in Chapter 2. ‘In the light of human finitude, the book of Job conceptualizes sin as a transgression of

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appropriate boundaries, as the failure of humans to accept and embrace their place within the created order and in relationship with God’ (Ansberry 2016, p. 58). Rea (2018, p. 142) objects that ‘in any case, the book has God announcing at the end that Job alone has “spoken rightly” of God (42:7), suggesting that if Job repented of his accusations against God, he was wrong to do so.’ However, ‘spoken rightly’ does not refer to his earlier accusations against God (which God already argued against in Job 40:2 and 40:7—Rea’s discussion ignores these verses), but rather is referring to his later confession of repentance that ‘I have uttered what I did not understand, things too wonderful for me, which I did not know’ (42:3). ‘He repented, and now the three friends need to repent’ (Longman 2012, p. 459). Contrary to Rea, who argues that Job is a good example of how to approach God in the midst of suffering by his protests, Longman (2012, p. 453) observes that such a reading ignores the portrayal of God’s response in the Book of Job: ‘Will someone who contends with Shaddai instruct him? Let the one who reproves God answer back!’ (40:2); ‘Would you invalidate my justice? Would you condemn me so you might be righteous?’ (40:8). Longman comments: Far from being pleased with Job’s approach, God intends to put Job in his place. Job has overstepped himself in his relationship with God, and now God wants him to correct his attitude. Thus Job’s speeches are not an example of the proper attitude toward God in the midst of suffering. Granted, some elements are highly commendable. For instance, he never gives up on God or curses God. He does not capitulate to the weak arguments of his friends and repent of sins he never committed. Nevertheless, God is not fully affirming Job’s approach to him by a long stretch. (Longman 2012, p. 453) Longman (2012) concludes: The purpose of the divine speeches is to bring Job to the right attitude toward God in suffering: submission and silence. This view does not contradict that, as just mentioned in the previous reflection, a proper, faithful questioning of God is permitted, as in the lament psalms, but it does point to God’s ultimate desire for those who suffer: to grow silent and trust him. In the face of God’s appearance and speech to him, Job grows silent, and this without a divine explanation of his suffering and before his restoration or even promise of restoration. Job grows silent, and the book of Job advocates such an attitude in the midst of suffering. (pp. 453–4) Likewise, Newell comments: Job’s relationship with God was renewed by his repentance, and enriched and strengthened by God’s self-revelation to him. Now, not only did Job know that

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In summary, even though Job was not given a theodicy, readers of the Book of Job can perceive that it is a theodicy; moreover, the questions which God asks Job imply that it is reasonable to trust in God even though Job does not know the specific reason why God allows him to suffer. Job serves as a Biblical example of someone who has drawn closer to God through his suffering.

8.10 What about those who walk away? Sceptics might object that, although there are many who have chosen to turn to God in times of suffering, there are also many who do not seek God after experiencing suffering, but who have chosen to walk away from God instead. Against those who claim the moral value of suffering, W. Somerset Maugham raises an objection based on his observations in hospital wards: ‘I knew that suffering did not ennoble; it degraded. It made men selfish, mean, petty, and suspicious’ (Maugham 1948, p. 62). Now Maugham’s observations are not representative; there are others whose characters have been ennobled by suffering (see the examples of Nick Vujicic and others mentioned in this book). In an article published in Journal of Traumatic Stress, Linley and Joseph (2004, pp. 11–12) observe that: Positive changes following adversity have long been recognized in philosophy, literature, and religion … They have been reported empirically [by psychologists and other researchers] following chronic illness, heart attacks, breast cancer, bone marrow transplants, HIV and AIDS, rape and sexual assault, military combat, maritime disasters, plane crashes, tornadoes, shootings, bereavement, injury, recovery from substance addiction, and in the parents of children with disabilities … Studies of adversarial growth are an important area of research … [And from] an applied perspective, clinicians should be aware of the potential for positive change in their clients following trauma and adversity … [T]he facilitation of adversarial growth may be considered a legitimate therapeutic aim. Nevertheless, the question remains, what about those who did not benefit morally or spiritually from suffering? It is true that a number of people would walk away from God, and we would need to consider the possible reasons why they would do so. In some (although not all) cases, it could be due to their free choice. Stump (2018, p. 21) observes that ‘a sufferer can react to his suffering negatively rather than in ways which contribute to “adversarial growth”. Suffering can contribute to spiritual regeneration and growth; but it cannot guarantee them.’ Some people would freely choose to draw closer to God in the midst of suffering and hence benefit from it, whereas others would draw away. Stump’s view is in line with Augustine’s, who writes:

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For even in the likeness of the sufferings, there remains an unlikeness in the sufferers; and though exposed to the same anguish, virtue and vice are not the same thing. For as the same fire causes gold to glow brightly, and chaff to smoke; and under the same flail the straw is beaten small, while the grain is cleansed; and as the lees are not mixed with the oil, though squeezed out of the vat by the same pressure, so the same violence of affliction proves, purges, clarifies the good, but damns, ruins, exterminates the wicked. And thus it is that in the same affliction the wicked detest God and blaspheme, while the good pray and praise. So material a difference does it make, not what ills are suffered, but what kind of man suffers them. (City of God, Chapter 8) For those people who choose to walk away from God, it might be the case that (1) they were never truly with God in the first place, (2) God knows that even if they were to be given better circumstances, they would eventually walk away from God (see the discussion on divine hiddenness in Chapter 7), or (3) their walking away is only temporary and that they would eventually return. In other cases, it could be due to the psychological disintegration which resulted from their suffering; in such cases they are not blameable for their response to suffering. Bishop (2018a, pp. 30–1) notes that there are some kinds of suffering that seriously damage mental functionality and moral responsibility for action. He writes: Where suffering seriously damages will and reason, victims frequently do not have a choice to respond positively to what happens to them (and, in particular, they do not have a choice to respond positively to what happens to them in ways that reflect what they ought to have been and what were the desires of their hearts). Trakakis (2018a, p. 33) asks, ‘Is free will worth the price of the personal and spiritual degeneration following from some traumatic experience, one which might lead someone to taking their own life?’ For cases like this, it could be that God knows that they would not choose to reject him if they had been psychologically healthy, and God can work things out for good for them in the afterlife in which they would become what they ought to have been and the desires of their hearts would be satisfied, and the eternal blessings would defeat the traumatic experience and death which they suffered (of course, if naturalism is true, then these people would have no such hope). Citing Aquinas, Stump (2018, p. 35) notes that: trying to understand the pattern of suffering in this world without reference to an afterlife is just as Martian as trying to understand the pattern of suffering in a hospital without reference to life outside the hospital and after the hospital time. Given that on her theistic account flourishing is primarily a matter of relationality with God:

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Horrendous and apparently pointless evil it is possible, on this account, to have irremediable biological and psychological damage and yet to have flourishing, greater flourishing, in fact, than is had by some of those others who have no similar damage … It is a mistake (and one that those suffering with disability themselves energetically repudiate) to suppose that the damage to body or mind with which some disabled people must live renders them unable to live as well as other people. (Stump 2018, p. 38)

Even if in this life the sufferers themselves or others around them have no sense of their flourishing in virtue of their suffering, they may still be objectively flourishing in virtue of their relationship with God which is known to God. A patient suffering from dementia may seem to be de-flourishing as she deteriorates and is unable to communicate relationally with others. However, she can still be in a flourishing relationship with her carers as she receives care from them, just as an infant can be in a flourishing relationship with her parents who hug her and show her love.11 As Stump (2018) writes, ‘the benefit which justifies God in allowing suffering is not translucent. Such a benefit is obviously more nearly like health than like pain: one can be mistaken in one’s beliefs about whether or not one has it’ (p. 20). Finally, Meister (2018, p. 54) notes that: while there are cases in which difficulties in individuals’ lives do breed bitterness, anger, fear, selfishness, and a general lessening of virtuous character, it might be the case that God can continue this process of character-forming in the afterlife until a person has had the opportunity to fully mature. (see Walls 2012)

8.11 Conclusion I have addressed the problem of horrendous evil and apparently pointless evil and cognitive biases (Park 2018) by arguing that it can be accounted for by the reasons for divine hiddenness and moral testing (Chapter 7), the Connection Building Theodicy and Cosmic Conflict Theodicy, the Adamic Fall Theodicy, and the Afterlife Theodicy, taken together. The ‘pointless accidents’ in the life journeys of creatures are not truly pointless in light of their final destiny. (1) For those who wilfully reject the Good, their sufferings (even those sufferings which they may not have deserved initially) would turn out to be a judgement which they deserve (in the sense of being undefeated suffering). (2) For those who are willing to turn to the Good, their sufferings can have the purpose of preparing them to do so, providing moral testing and soul-making (Hick 2007), or bringing them back to their heavenly home. In other words, God would ensure that any suffering which they did not deserve but experienced in this life would eventually work out for their benefit and be defeated in their lives. Even in the present life, there are evidences that such sufferings can be defeated, as indicated by the real-life stories of the sufferers themselves (e.g. Vujicic 2015); their stories have much to inspire and teach others about the meaning of life.

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The foregoing points provide an important (but not the only) response to the challenge Dostoevsky’s Ivan Karamazov makes to his brother Alyosha: ‘Imagine that you yourself are erecting the edifice of human fortune with the goal of, at the finale, making people happy, of at last giving them peace and quiet, but that in order to do it it would be necessary and unavoidable to torture to death only one tiny little creature, that same little child that beat its breast with its little fist, and on its unavenged tears to found that edifice, would you agree to be the architect on those conditions, tell me and tell me truly?’ ‘No, I would not agree,’ Alyosha said quietly. (Dostoyevsky 1880/1993, p. 282) Stump (2018, p. 35) replies to Ivan by arguing that the benefit justifying any allowing of undeserved horrendous suffering has to go primarily to the sufferer (in this case the child), and not to anyone else. Given that an omnipotent God would have the power to work all things out for good (including accomplishing this in the afterlife of the sufferer), God would be able to ensure that any such sufferer would indeed receive this benefit and that the suffering would be defeated. On the other hand, Shearn observes that to agree with Ivan and claim that God should not have created altogether is arguably self-defeating, for although it is grounded in the conviction that life is of great value (which is supposedly diminished by the experience of unjust suffering), it claims that life is not to be created (Shearn 2013, p. 454). Anti-theodicists have objected that theodicists seem to assume a faulty consequentialist justification via compensation. I have replied by clarifying that, on my view, God’s justification for allowing suffering is not based solely on the benefits that the sufferer would receive or the harm that would be avoided, but on values of love and the prerogatives based on love, which involve allowing humans to exercise their free will in morally significant ways. The beneficial consequences are one of the considerations but not the sole consideration nor the main consideration. Thus my view is not consequentialist. I have argued that God has the prerogative to create a world in which the duty to prevent and eliminate evil is temporarily given to humans, and that Sterba’s analogy of an ideal political state for how God should act is a false analogy. Concerning the defeating of suffering, it is: not the same as compensating a person for it, or seeing to it that its badness is outweighed. It is, rather, a matter of the bad thing’s being ‘included in some good enough whole to which it bears a relation of organic (rather than merely additive) unity.’ (Rea 2018, p. 82; citing Adams 1990, p. 28) An instance of evil or suffering is defeated within the context of someone’s life if their life ‘is a good whole to which [that instance of evil or suffering] bears the relevant organic unity’ (Rea 2018, p. 82).

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Scripture illustrates how evil is defeated in the life of Joseph in the final chapters of Genesis. Betrayed and sold into slavery by his brothers as a young man, Joseph endured much hardship and sufferings which he did not deserve, but the narrative portrays how he was eventually made a ruler of Egypt by divine providence and saved his family from famine. Speaking to his brothers, Joseph said, ‘as for you, you meant evil against me, but God meant it for good in order to bring about this present result, to preserve many people alive’ (Genesis 50:20). Thus, the crucial issue concerning whether a person would experience God’s good purpose and blessing through suffering would depend on the person’s response to the Good. ‘Do we respond with anger and bitterness toward God, or do we turn to Him in faith for strength to endure?’ (Moreland and Craig 2003, p. 544). Cottingham (2017, p. 20) writes that, at the end of the day, what makes a life meaningful is above all the striving to hold fast to the good even in the midst of suffering, and what ineluctably erodes meaningfulness is not the evil to which people are subjected but their turning away from the good.

Notes 1 One might object that even when people sometimes sacrifice things that they desire in order to help other people, they are doing this for the sake of satisfying their desire, viz. their desire to help others, which implies psychological egoism, i.e. the view that universal selfishness is an unavoidable consequence of psychological laws. However, the conclusion of psychological egoism does not follow, because ‘selfishness’ is distinguishable from ‘unselfishness’ in the following way: consider scenario 1: ‘Child X refuses to share his toy with child Z,’ and scenario 2: ‘Child X decides to share his toy with child Y.’ We discern that child X acts selfishly in the first scenario and unselfishly in the second. Even though there is gratification of child X’s desires in both scenarios, the kind of desire that is gratified in each scenario is different. From the analysis of cases such as these, a selfish act should be understood as involving a necessary condition that, when perceiving the needs of others, person A chooses to gratify ‘the desires of A exclusive of the desire to meet the needs of others.’ With this clarification, it is obvious that people can seek an overall sense of gratification of their desires while acting unselfishly, as in the case in which A chooses to gratify ‘the desire of A to meet the need of B,’ instead of choosing to gratify ‘the desires of A exclusive of the desire to meet the needs of others (including that of B).’ 2 Park (2018, p. 511) acknowledges that his argument does not imply that there cannot be any justified true beliefs whatsoever concerning morality (to insist otherwise is implausible and would undermine his own argument). 3 http://exapologist.blogspot.com/2014/09/the-argument-from-tragic-moral-dilemmas.html. 4 www.asiaone.com/health/late-millionaire-surgeons-last-words-money-ferraris-and-true-joy. 5 www.heavenaddress.com/Dr-Richard-Teo-Keng-Siang/424153/379719/content. 6 Ibid. 7 I thank Yuen Tsun Kit for this objection. 8 Philippians 1:23–26: But I am hard-pressed from both directions, having the desire to depart and be with Christ, for that is very much better; yet to remain on in the flesh is more necessary for your sake. Convinced of this, I know that I will remain and continue with you all for your progress and joy in the faith, so that your proud confidence in me may abound in Christ Jesus through my coming to you again.

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9 Abraham answered, ‘Let me take it upon myself to speak to the Lord, I who am but dust and ashes.’ 10 ‘He has cast me into the mire, and I have become like dust and ashes.’ 11 I am grateful to Eleonore Stump for this analogy.

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It has been explained in previous chapters that evil and suffering can lead to blessing. So how should a person respond to evil and suffering? Should he/she increase evil and suffering so as to bring about greater blessing? If God does not prevent or remove them, should we prevent or remove them? ‘For why fight to eradicate evil if evil is a necessary or unavoidable part or by-product in God’s providential plan for the world?’ (Trakakis 2017, p. 127). On the other hand, if we should try to prevent or remove suffering, why shouldn’t God? As Russell asks: if God knows the little girl will suffer a certain amount and we have reason to believe he knows that, and so have reason to believe she will suffer that amount, how can the difference between God’s knowledge and our reasonable belief make it permissible for God, but impermissible for us, to let her suffer? (Russell 1989, p. 127) It has therefore been argued by many sceptics that, if something happens that any human moral agent should have prevented if he knew about it and could have prevented without serious risk to himself or others, then something happens which God should have prevented from happening (Russell 1989). The argument is often elaborated using the parent–child analogy. For example: It has been said that God’s relationship to his creatures is like that of a parent to his child. But surely that special relationship would not justify God in permitting the brutal murder of the 5-year old since it would not have been permissible of the mother of the child … to have failed to prevent the killing of her child (even by another of her children) because she was its parent. (Russell 1989, p. 124) Likewise, if a loving parent knows that a caretaker would kill his/her child, would the parent still give the caretaker the responsibility for the child? If not, why would God let his children be killed by others? Drawing an analogy between God and human parents, Oppy (2017, p. 58) argues: DOI: 10.4324/9781003265689-9

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It seems quite compelling to think that, if human parents had foreknowledge that, were they to have a child, their child would be raped, tortured and murdered before the age of two, then those human parents would choose not to have a child. How, then, could it be acceptable for God to choose to have lots of children in full knowledge that they will be raped, tortured and murdered before the age of two? (italics in original) Whereas sceptical theists often use the analogy of a parent letting a child go through suffering to describe how people may not know the reason why God lets people go through suffering, others have objected that: Just as we would necessarily expect a loving parent with the power to do so to make a necessarily suffering child understand the reasons for her suffering, so we would expect a loving God who clearly has the power to do so to make us able to understand the reason for our suffering. (Dougherty 2016) Likewise, Schellenberg argues that any good parents would at least make their presence known to their child who cries out for them (Schellenberg 2015b, p. 62). In response to these objections, four points can be made (as explained in previous chapters, the burden of proof is on the atheist to exclude them). First, according to Christian theism, the beginning of evil and suffering in history is related to the wrong free choices of creatures (see Chapter 3). If every created person (including angels) throughout history had not freely chosen to sin, suffering would not have begun. However, because they have sinned and their wrong choices have affected others, suffering has begun and continued to exist. Even so, God can let suffering work out for a good purpose, but this does not imply that suffering itself is good. In this sense, it is correct of Bishop to object against Chrysostom’s saying ‘They do not know that to have these sufferings is the privilege of those especially dear to God’ (Chrysostom, Homily 62 on the Gospel of John) by arguing that: It’s important not to domesticate suffering and especially not to glorify it, to think of it as a ‘privilege,’ as a divinely bestowed gift, as a sign of divine favour or blessing, as the way things ought to be. No, suffering is always the condition of the fallen world, not the way God wanted the world to be. (Bishop 2018a, p. 32; italics in original) Second, the parent–child relationship is only an appropriate analogy for some aspects of God’s relationship to creatures; it is not intended to describe all aspects of that relationship, and indeed it is not appropriate to use it to characterize all aspects of that relationship. For example, God himself is supposed to be the metaphysical foundation of goodness such that drawing closer to him is the highest good, something which cannot be claimed for any human parent.

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Additionally, God is supposed to be the Judge of everyone and has set the rules to test all people. Again, this is not analogous to any human parent, but it is relevant for explaining some aspects of the reasons for divine hiddenness (see Chapter 7), which accounts for why we should not expect God would let us understand the reason for our suffering in all instances, or that he would immediately make his presence known to everyone who cries out for him. Moreover, one of the purposes for which God created humans is to give them significant moral responsibilities—significant to such an extent that it would indeed affect the lives of others (see the reply to the deontologist in Chapter 8). Whereas no human parent is the foundation, the ultimate giver of such moral responsibilities, and the creator of all. These disanalogies are relevant for the following points. Third, some of the good purposes which God wants suffering to accomplish are related to humans trying their best to reduce suffering. It has been explained previously that one of the good purposes is to let humans learn to be responsible for their actions and to learn to love others; this includes caring for one another and healing the sufferers. The God-man Jesus Christ himself cared for the sick and healed them, and was willing to sacrifice himself to save others; this set an example for others to follow, and many have followed and transformed the world as a result (Schmidt 2001). The God of Christianity is not a God who lives high up in the heavens and does not care about us, but a loving and compassionate God who enters into our world to share in our hurt and pain (Moltmann 1974).1 As Rea observes: The gospels and the New Testament epistles tell us that, although we had no right to this—no moral claim upon God such that perfect goodness would demand this, God loved us enough to become incarnate and to die on a cross for the sake of our salvation. Whatever exactly we make, philosophically speaking, of the doctrine of the atonement, the fact that God would make that sort of sacrifice on our behalf in the absence of some obligation to do so is, in light of the conclusions of this chapter, absolutely stunning. (Rea 2018, p. 82) Scripture affirms that Jesus’ righteous life fulfilled on our behalf the perfect demands of the laws of God which all of us fall short of and could not fulfil on our own, whereas his death on the Cross bore the punishment which our sins deserved. He suffered the cruellest torture on the Cross, so as to carry the sins of the whole world and to endure the agonies of hell in our place. ‘But he was wounded for our transgressions, crushed for our iniquities; upon him was the punishment that made us whole, and by his bruises we are healed’ (Isaiah 53:5). For the sinless Jesus, the physical, emotional, and spiritual pain was greater than what we could ever imagine. He was the truly Innocent Sufferer, who willingly endured the suffering which he did not deserve, but which we deserved. Why? Because he loves us. He willingly died so that we might be forgiven. ‘For the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many’ (Mark 10:45). This ransom is sufficient to save all who believe. ‘For God

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so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life’ (John 3:16). Therefore, even though we often do not know the specific reasons for why we suffer, ‘we can look to the cross as the ultimate manifestation of God’s love, which offers sufficient reason to trust that God does everything that can be done for everyone’s best good’ (Peckham 2018, p. 133). Citing Martin Luther’s reflections on a theologia crucis, McGrath (2016, pp. 64–5) observes that the Cross connects with: the deep existential anxieties of humanity in the face of suffering, and the radical ambiguity of a shadowy world … within which God remains as a hidden yet loving presence … a Trinitarian vision of God allows suffering to be positioned both redemptively and existentially. The Christ who suffered meets us in our deepest suffering. In this world, we see evidence of the apparent absence of God in many instances of suffering, but we also see evidence of the presence of God in the beauty and order of nature (Loke forthcoming a), and in the evidence for the death and resurrection of Jesus (Loke 2020a). Given that the doctrine of divine hiddenness and the doctrine of divine revelation are both implied by passages in Scripture (see Section 7.1), the apparent absence and presence is in fact a confirmation of the words of Scripture which tells us that he is present. He is there, even in the midst of our deepest suffering, and he will be present in a more evident way in the future kingdom where, ‘He will wipe away every tear from their eyes; and there will no longer be any death; there will no longer be any mourning, or crying, or pain’ (Revelation 21:4, NASB). As explained in earlier chapters, the greatest good is to have a closer relationship with God; for those who care for others, ‘the benefit is in the revelation that, in caring for those in need, they are caring for Jesus (see Matthew 25)’ (Timpe and Cobb 2017, p. 114). As for those who suffer from disabilities, ‘the value of identifying her own vulnerabilities and attendant suffering with the sufferings of Christ may be a source of great value—the kind of good that defeats the suffering connected to her disability’ (p. 114). Ekstrom (2021, p. 80) writes: As closeness with God achieved through sharing similar experience is valuable, so too is being supported and cared for when one is suffering. One may be moved to tears by the words of someone who is moved by one’s own pain, someone who shows that he deeply understands one’s situation and stands in solidarity, caring for one’s well-being. When touched by this kind of love, all else in life that may have seemed attractive may fade in importance. Fourth, Christian theism affirms that in the future God himself will indeed eradicate evil at the Final Judgement. Moreland and Craig (2003, p. 552) observe that:

210

Why fight evil Even though the problem of evil is the greatest objection to the existence of God, at the end of the day God is the only solution to the problem of evil. If God does not exist, then we are locked without hope in a world filled with gratuitous and unredeemed suffering. God is the final answer to the problem of evil, for he redeems us from evil and takes us into the everlasting joy of an incommensurable good, fellowship with himself.

This everlasting joy will be experienced by those who trust Christ as their Saviour and let him be the centre of their lives. This would bring peace to their lives and result in the healing of their souls. According to Christian theology, human salvation is not based on human merits (for no one is good enough), but based on the infinite merits of Christ (and that is why everyone who believes in Jesus can be assured of salvation) (Ephesians 2:1–9). Nevertheless, those who have truly believed will obey Christ’s command to love God and others, to share the hope they have in Christ, and to exercise their various roles and responsibilities in this world. This is related to the Connection Building Theodicy mentioned earlier, where it is explained that the meaning of life for human beings is related to forming deep connections and contributing to the welfare of others, such that if God often directly provided for the welfare of others, this value would be lost (Collins 2013). Likewise, it is important to manage the earth’s resources responsibly and unselfishly, to take good care of our ecosystem with which we are deeply connected, and to seek to prevent ecological disasters such as global warming which would cause harm to other humans as well as animals. Now the Scripture affirms that God does intervene at times; the portrayal of Jesus healing the blind man in John 9 is often mentioned in this regard. Although this passage has often been understood as saying that God made the man blind in order to show his glory, others have argued that it should be understood as saying that God sent Jesus to do works of healing in order to show his glory (Burge 2016, pp. 86–7; he explains that the purpose clause of John 9:3b (‘so that [hina] the work of God …’) should be applied to John 9:4; this means John 9:2–4 might be translated as follows: ‘Neither this man nor his parents sinned,’ said Jesus. ‘But so that the work of God might be displayed in his life, we must do the work of him who sent me while it is still day’). Throughout history there have been numerous testimonies of how Christians experience God’s deliverance (see the discussion of Brown 2012 in Section 7.2),2 and the Scripture encourages people to have faith in God knowing that ‘all things are possible with God’ (Mark 10:27). Nevertheless, because of the reasons for divine hiddenness (see Chapter 7) and connection building mentioned by Collins, God does not intervene all the time, such as stopping the spread of the Covid-19 pandemic whenever someone prays. On the contrary, God has given humans morally significant freedom which comes with significant responsibilities. God has also given humans the opportunities to exercise their responsibilities, so that they can grow in their relationship with him and with others, become mature in their character, and live lives that are worthwhile. John Maxwell (2007, p. 75) once told a story of a man who looked at a starving child and asked: ‘God, how could you allow such suffering? Why don’t

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You do something?’ God replied: ‘I certainly have done something—I made you.’ God wants people to help others. Given that this is God’s will for humanity and that the creation of a morally significant world is the priority, it is no wonder that those countries in which people behave responsibly (e.g. wear a mask in public) tend to stop the spread of the pandemic more effectively compared to those countries in which many people pray for the pandemic to stop but do not behave responsibly. In this book, I have shown that there are various possible responses to the problem of evil which the atheist has not excluded, therefore the argument from evil against Christian theism (for which the atheist bears the burden of proof) fails. On the other hand, there are various arguments for Christian theism which have not been successfully rebutted (see Baggett and Walls 2016; Evans 2013; Walls and Dougherty 2018; Loke 2017a; 2017b; 2020a; forthcoming a), and I have explained how Christian theism provides redemption for human sins and offers a foundation for human flourishing. Since evil and suffering are intrinsically bad and human beings are rarely in a position to know whether the flourishing of a person would be enhanced by suffering rather than without it (as explained in Chapter 8, there is no guarantee that it would be so), human beings ought to fight evil and reduce suffering (Stump 2010, p. 413). As explained earlier, according to Christian theism this is something that God wants people to do, and it is an important aspect of the meaning of life which God intends. Their exercise of this responsibility may (or may not) deprive the sufferer of the good she would receive in heaven if she suffered, but it would contribute to other kinds of good she would receive, such as the eternal bonds of appreciation that Collins (2013) mentions. Eventually it would all work out for good for those who love God (Romans 8:28). However, if people refused to help the sufferer, they would be violating moral obligations and miss out on the good which God intends. Hence, people should strive to fight evil and reduce suffering out of love for God and for others, because that is the right thing to do and they would be remembered in eternity for doing that.

Notes 1 For the coherence of the Incarnation and responses to objections based on divine atemporality, immutability, and impassibility, see Loke (2014). 2 Philip Clayton and Steven Knapp claim that if God were to rescue a suffering subject from unnecessary harm even once, then God would be morally obliged to do so every time. For a response to this unwarranted ‘not-even-once’ principle, see Sollereder (2018, Chapter 5).

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Index

Adamic Fall Theodicy 3, 5, 14, 179; atheist views 107–112; canonical perspective 103–107; evolutionary argument 100–102; scientific credibility 98–103; understanding of freedom, love, and morality 105–106 Adams, Marilyn 23, 183 “adversarial growth.” 200 Afterlife Theodicy 14 agent causation 48 Angelic Fall 14, 65–69 animals, theology of 73–75; afterlife for animals 82; animal culpability 92; of animal death 74–78; of animal sacrifices 74–75; animal suffering 72–73, 81, 84–85; redemption of weak animals 93–95; selfish behaviours 92; as subjects-of-a-life 80 anti-theodicists, objections to theodicy 6–12 Aquinas 201 atheism 12 The Atheist’s Guide to Reality (Rosenberg) 13, 58 Barth, Karl 40; notes 40 Big Picture 13 Big Questions 13 Book of Ecclesiastes 12 Book of Job 3, 9, 42, 44, 66 Buddhist doctrine 73 Buddhist tradition 190 calamities 42 Calvin, John 38, 82 Catechism of the Catholic Church 37 character formation 59, 92–93 Christian: doctrine of sin 1–2; theism 1, 13, 63, 115, 161, 207, 211 Compatibilism 70n4

Compatibilist free will 50–52, 60; grounds for moral responsibility 52–55 “compensation” 186 Connection Building Theodicy 3, 89, 183, 191, 210 consent 185 Cosmic Conflict Theodicy 14, 83–89, 178 Cosmic Dualism 20 Cosmic Temple 179 ‘cost–benefit analysis’ 185 Covid-19 virus 192 Creationism 3 degradation 185 demonic spirits 67 demons 68 dinosaurs’ extinction, theological perspective 86, 96n4 divine hiddenness 6, 14, 165; problem of 165; responses to 166–175 divine providence 45, 47, 49, 92 Divine Sovereignty 42–43 doing-allowing distinction 44–50 Draper, Paul 26–27 “dust and ashes” 198 Eastern religious views 73 ecological disasters 86 Ekstrom, Laura 57–58; judgement 180 emotionally stable mental state 6 environmental protection 74 Equiprobability Principle 32n6 evil, problem of 1; with Angelic Fall 5–6; based on false analogies 4; defence and burden of proof 17–18; doing-allowing distinction 44–50; emotional and intellectual problems of 6, 10–11; as evolutionary process 72; freedom to choose evil 62–65; free process defence

Index 90; as God’s providential plan 14, 18; in humanity 6; logical argument 17; nature of 16–17; as ‘nothingness’ 60; objective 12; origin 20–22; pre-human evolutionary 6; privation theory of 21 evil against theism, logical argument 21–30; comparing HI and theism 27; Cottingham's argument 22–23; Draper’s arguments 26–27; free will defence 18–19; from ignorance and sceptical theism 22–30; moral argument 23–24, 27–28, 74; Nagasawa’s arguments 28–29; from origin of evil 20–21; teleological argument 26; transworld depravity 19–20 evolutionary evils 90–91 existence of God 108; argument against 18; Cosmological and Moral Arguments for 14; logical argument against 21–30; moral argument 74; suffering as argument against 79–82 existential optimism 28–29 Fall of Humanity 14 father–child analogy 110 ‘faulty consequentialism’ 185 felix culpa theodicy 62 Fernando, Ajith 190 free creatures, creation of 18–19, 22, 60–61, 92–93 freedom: to choose evil 62–65; of fallen angels 68 Free Will Theism 49 Garden of Eden 74, 77, 100, 127, 137, 149 Genealogical Adam Model 3 Gnostic belief 20 God and Other Spirits (Wiebe) 67 God concept 2, 5, 9, 175; characterization of 29; distinction between desirative will and permissive will 42, 44; evidence of goodness 28; existence of 12; as free agent 22; God’s moral character 103–104; God’s personhood 174; God’s realm of forgiveness 110; goodness of creation 75–79; related to Good 19 goodness of creation 75–79 Gospel of John 36 Gray, Asa 72 Grudem, Wayne 75 Haiti earthquake 194 harm-averting benefit 4–5 heaven 58–60

231

Hitler, Adolf 13, 58 Homo sapiens 99 hostile competitiveness 92 human good deeds, failure of 117–120 human suffering (HI) 14, 26–27, 108 Hume, David 17 In Adam’s Fall (McFarland) 2 Job’s suffering 42 Jones, Clay 9 Journal of Traumatic Stress 200 Karamazov, Ivan 202 King, Martin Luther 190; reflections 209 Libertarian free will 50–52, 59–60; grounds for moral responsibility 52–55; love relationship 56–58 life, meaning of 13 Lim, Daniel 44–50 Lincoln, Abraham 190 Linley, P. Alex 200 Longman, Tremper 106 love 56–58; relationship between creatures and God 59 Luke 23:34 35 Maugham, Somerset W. 200 Maxwell, John 210 McGrath, Gavin 76 meat eating 74, 87 medical procedure and rape 185 Meister, Chad 7, 189; notes 202 Middle Knowledge 3, 14, 45–47, 49–50, 92, 160 moral: evils 41–44; responsibility 52–55, 57–58; value of person’s deeds 119–120 morality 39–40 natural disasters 177; earthquakes 177; tsunamis 177 natural evils 44 natural knowledge 46 Newell, Lynne 198; comments 199 Noah’s Flood 89 non-imago-Dei-anatomical-Homo 101, 103 objective: evil 12; morality 13 Open Theism 50 Oppy, Graham 21, 29–30 Original Corruption 3, 6, 124–127, 131, 134, 143–145, 159–161

232

Index

Original Guilt 123–126, 128, 132–133, 136–138, 142, 154, 159–160, 163n12 Original Sin, doctrine of 2, 4, 14, 101, 121–122; Augustine-Pelagian controversy 122–123, 125; Augustine’s understanding of 123–127; characterization of 145–146; Corruption-Only view of 3; Federalist views 132; Realist views 132; Scriptural passages 127–131, 139–140; Traducianist and Creationist perspectives 149–159 Pannenberg, Wolfhart 84 parent–child analogy 4–5 Paul, Fiddes: statement 186 Pelagianism/semi-Pelagianism 14 personal essences 20 phenomenal consciousness 80 phenomenological pain 80, 82 Phillips, D.Z. 183 Plantinga, Alvin 17, 19, 62; creation of free creatures 18–19; notion of transworld depravity (TWD) 19–20 possible and actual worlds 60 praiseworthy love 57–58 probabilistic principle of counterfactuals (PPC) 20 Problem of Evil (PoE) 44 Process Theism 50 pure benefit 4–5 radical evil 121 Rape of Nanking 118–119 retributive punishment 27, 112–114 Russell, Bertrand 12, 206 Satan 66, 84, 88–89; destructive work of 86–89 sceptical theism 5, 22–30 Scriptural passages 178, 196 Scripture’s teaching 190 selfish behaviours 92 selfishness 39 serpent, as symbol of evil 65 Simple Foreknowledge 50 sin 74, 99; in Christian Scripture 33–35, 39–41; of concupiscence 38; consequences of another’s 140–142;

definition 39–41; high hand 37; ignorance as 35; imputation of 136–137; of infants and mentally disabled 134–136; mortal 37–38; responsibility and 35; retribution of 112–114; severity of 36–37; as theological notion 39–41; unintentional 35–36; universality of 115–121; venial 37–38 Smith, Quentin 72 Sollereder 86–88 Soul-Making Theodicy 18, 94 sovereignty of God 83–84 Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy 184 Stump, Eleonore 183, 201 Stump, Jim 23, 27, 77, 89, 109 suffering 200; benefits 189–190 ‘the fear of the Lord’ 198 theodicies 3, 14, 76. see also anti-theodicists, objections to theodicy; contemporary 4; therapeutic perspective 11; Type A 4–5; Type B 4–5 Theological Determinism 49 ‘thorns and thistles’ 193 Totalitarianism 121 Traducianism 3 Trakakis, Nick 8–10 transdisciplinary approach 2 transworld depravity (TWD) 19–20, 161 Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil 63, 160 Tree of Life 106 Type A theodicies 4–5 Type B theodicies 4–5 universe ex nihilo 87–88 vegetarianism 76 “virtual” consent 186 Vujicic, Nick 9, 182 Wandering in Darkness (stump) 2, 15n3 Welzer, Harald 180 Wiebe, Philip 67, 70 Young Earth Creationists (YECs) 75, 78, 86