We are commemorating the centenary of the birth of a personality remarkable in herself and remarkable also as a mirror of some great questions about the understanding of God, man and the world. A quaint episode in literary history focuses these questions as they emerged in Evelyn Underhill's life. She had published in 1911, when she was thirty-seven years old, a very learned and also very readable book with the title Mysticism. It sold well from the start, and its execellenc was acclaimed by critics as different as Dean Inge and Dom John Chapman. But an acquaintance who was not at the time an intimate friend wrote to say that he had not yet, as he had hoped, been able to make a thorough study of the whole work; but as a second printing of it was imminent he made two proposals, and he presented them in a tone just a little reminiscent of Hitler addressing the President of Czechoslovakia. I quote Baron von Hugel:

(1) Either, you rest content, so far as my little help is concerned with these corrections proposed for the first four chapters – yet with the extension that you go through all the passages concerning (a) the supposed identity of man's soul and God, (b) the supposed non-necessity of institutional, historical, etc. religion for many or for some; and you would strictly weigh and reconsider them all. Or,

(2) you would get your publisher to defer the reprinting till the beginning of February, in which case I willingly undertake to give January to a careful study of your entire book.

Many of us, and I am no exception, have been led to assume, almost un-consciously, that Śankara is India's greatest philosopher and that the non-dualist philosophy he consolidated, Advaita Vedānta, is the supreme spiritual philosophy of India, if not of the whole world. Dualist (Dvaita) opponents like Madhva, on the other hand, have usually been appreciated very little, if at all. Several of my colleagues think of Madhva as a reactionary, if brilliant, theist whose philosophy best serves as a foil to Śankara's. Madhva, it almost seems, is studied not for his own philosophical virtues but as a means the better to appreciate Śankara's. I believe that we must weigh more carefully the dualist position, particularly its trenchant critique of non-dualism. We may discover in the process that Śankara, whatever else he was – brilliant stylist, mystic par excellence, deft polemicist – was not the originator or consolidator of anything like an internally consistent metaphysics.

In his The Origins of Pragmatism,1 A. J. Ayer unveiled a new James; and, clearly, he found his new one a good deal more attractive than the received ones. That is hardly surprising, for in some ways the new James looks remarkably like Ayer himself. The important question, however, is how far Ayer's James resembles the real one, and that is the subject of this paper. But let us see, first, where the new James looks different from the older ones.

William James presents Pascal's wager in this manner: if you believe in God and God exists, then your gain is infinite; if you believe in God and God doesn't exist, then your loss is finite. Therefore, since a finite loss is reasonable where there is the possibility of infinite gain, you ought to believe in God. ‘What have you to lose?’ James asks (II).1

The purpose of this paper is to clear up the long-standing veritable mountain of misinterpretation, perpetuated from critic to critic, concerning the admittedly problematic concept of self-authenticating (i.e. unmistakable) religious experience. While it may well be the case, as many have argued, that a sort of ‘experience’ about which one could not be mistaken is simply a logically impossible state of affairs, this cannot be known to be the case so long as what is under attack is (as I hope to show) a bogus concept, obviously absurd, having nothing whatsoever to do with the correct interpretation of ‘self-authentication’. Hence, my mission herein is essentially that of philosophical analysis or clarification of meaning. Only upon suitable clarification of this concept will we be in a position to consider the question of its possible application, i.e. whether or not there could be an instantiation of such experience. I might point out that my central concern is somewhat more explicatory than historical, though I believe that the account developed in this paper is essentially congenial with the intent of those who have been proponents of the view that there can be self-authenticating religious experience. Let us begin, then, by turning to some representative criticism of the concept in question.

If Christian theology is that enterprise whose essential purpose is to understand the faith of the Christian Church, then it must approach that faith from the perspective not only of its transcendent source, but also as a human achievement, a creative interpretation of those events in which transcendent reality discloses itself for appropriation. Few theologians would deny that theology has to do primarily with the ways in which ultimate reality becomes manifest in human beings' faithful responses, in belief and trust, to its self-disclosures, preparatory and decisive. But the implications of such a view are not always confronted straightforwardly, especially for the suitable normative principles by which theology must assess the adequacy of the church's expressions of its faith. This essay seeks to probe how an account of the Christian faith could proceed whose norm (that is: whose principle for determining whether any claim about transcendent reality is both Christian and true) derives not from the revelatory source of faith but from the dynamic of human creativity within which alone faith's source, in being interpreted, becomes clear, cogent, and decisive for conscious existence.

In an article in Philosophy (1968, pp. 199–211) R. G. Swinburne set out to argue that none of Hume's formal objections to the design argument ‘have any validity against a carefully articulated version of the argument’ (p. 199). This, he maintained, is largely because Hume's criticisms ‘are bad criticisms of the argument in any form’ (p. 206). The ensuing controversy between Swinburne and Olding1 has focused upon the acceptable/unacceptable aspects of the dualism presupposed in Swinburne's defence of the design argument; upon whether any simplification is achieved by reducing scientific explanation to agent explanation; and upon the problems which arise from taking a man's acting upon his body (or the material universe within his reach) as the analogy for understanding a disembodied agent acting upon matter. In this article I shall refer to the Swinburne-Olding controversy when appropriate but my main concern is to return to Swinburne's original article and argue, seriatim, that Hume's individual criticisms of the design argument are for the most part a great deal more powerful than Swinburne allowed. I shall contend that cumulatively they destroy the design argument as any sort of rational foundation for theistic belief. But first I shall indicate briefly the character of the argument together with one or two of the distinctions and refinements in terms of which it has been found helpful to carry on the discussion in recent years.

Man has the urge to thrust against the limits of language. Think for instance about one's astonishment that anything exists. This astonishment cannot be expressed in the form of a question and there is no answer to it. Anything we can say must, a priori, be nonsense. (Wittgenstein)

In this essay I will try to show that there are what would appear to be some unnoticed consequences of the doctrine of divine foreknowledge. For the purposes of this discussion I will simply assume that future events (while future) are possible objects of knowledge and, hence, that foreknowledge is possible. Accordingly, I will not be concerned with discussing such questions as the status of truth-values for future contingent propositions or whether knowledge is justified true belief. Furthermore, I will not be concerned with the issues involved in the claim that the doctrine of divine foreknowledge conflicts with doctrines concerning the properties of created beings, e.g., the doctrine of voluntary human action.

The problem of evil may be characterized as the problem of how precisely to specify a property, P, about which it is possible for a morally sensitive man to believe that (I) a person who possesses it would be morally justified on that account in not preventing instances of intense innocent suffering and (2) it is neither impossible nor unlikely that if there is an omnipotent and omniscient being, he possesses it. Atheists have typically claimed that P cannot be precisely specified. Moreover, they have maintained that in view of our inability to give a precise specification of P, it is irrational to believe that there is an omnipotent and omniscient being who is perfectly good and, hence, irrational to believe that God exists. In the remainder of this paper, I want to discuss the question whether there is any good reason for believing that this latter thesis is true.1 If there is no such reason, then no matter how much he may busy himself with an attempt at formulating a precise specification of P, the theist can be justifiably contented with the thought that it doesn't much matter whether he succeeds.