Beliefs are freely attributed to God nowadays in Anglo–American philosophical theology. This practice undoubtedly reflects the twentieth–century popularity of the view that knowledge consists of true justified belief (perhaps with some needed fourth component). (After all no one supposes that God has beliefs in addition to, or instead of knowledge.) The connection is frequently made explicit. If knowledge is true justified belief then whatever God knows He believes. It would seem that much recent talk of divine beliefs stems from Nelson Pike's widely discussed article, ‘Divine Omniscience and Voluntary Action’. In this essay Pike develops a version of the classic argument for the incompatibility of divine foreknowledge and free will in terms of divine forebelief. He introduces this shift by premising that ‘A knows X’ entails ‘A believes X’. As a result of all this, philosophers have increasingly been using the concept of belief in defining ‘omniscience’.

In his 1950 Marett Lecture, Professor Evans-Pritchard gave an account of important methodological developments which had taken place in social anthropology. I should like to use the occasion to concentrate on some of the deep contemporary divisions in another subject which interested R. R. Marett, namely, the philosophy of religion. I shall do so, however, by reference to some of the methodological issues which concerned Evans-Pritchard.

It is difficult to understand Gandhi's philosophy without some kind of idea of what he means by Truth. When I put the question of what he meant by Truth to some of his followers in India the replies I received showed quite clearly that his concept of Truth was linked to the concepts of dharma and rta. What this would seem to point to is that his understanding of Truth is something that is acquired within his own form of life and that his experiments with Truth are ultimately determined by his understanding of the Hindu religious tradition. This is not to say that insights from other religious traditions did not influence his apprehension of Truth: his acknowledgement of those influences is sufficient in itself to substantiate that claim. But it is clear that it would not be possible to understand his concept of Truth without some understanding of the tradition in which he was nurtured and which determined his way of life.

The notions of a ‘devotional experiment’ and an ‘experimental faith’ have been unduly neglected in the philosophy of religion. There seems to be a widespread assumption that experiments in spiritual matters are impossible in principle; the hypotheses in question simply do not lend themselves to empirical testing. This is unfortunate, since any discussion of these notions inevitably sheds light on such central issues as the nature of faith and belief, the rational evaluation of belief systems, and the evidential force of religious experiences.

Wittgenstein, in his characteristic way of indirectly bringing us to see an important feature in human life, said: ‘… art shows us the miracles of nature… (The blossom, just opening out. What is marvellous about it?) We say: “Just look at it opening out!” This essay discusses how works of art ‘blossom’ and thus elicit an imaginative human response. Its various parts focus on the connected theme that some sensible component is essential to the production and comprehension of art. Each part, however, investigates a different aspect of the theme and could stand on its own. What will be argued about this aesthetic factor in art will also be shown to cast light on our understanding of certain narrative texts and ceremonial acts of religion.

The most striking difference between Christian and Muslim theologies is that while, for Christians, God is a person, Muslims worship an impersonal deity. Despite the importance of this difference for a host of theological issues, it is a difference which has gone largely unnoticed by Christians and Muslims alike. Yet Christians everywhere will affirm that God is a person, while the average Muslim will readily deny this. Theism is often defined by philosophers of religion who work in the Christian tradition in such a manner as to require the belief that God is a person. Thus The Encyclopedia of Philosophy has it that, ‘THEISM signifies belief in one God (theos) who is (a) personal, (b) worthy of adoration, and (c) separate from the world but (d) continuously active in it”. John H. Hick admits that, ‘Theism…is strictly belief in a deity, but is generally used to mean belief in a personal deity”. Richard Swinburne states that a theist is one who believes that there is a God who is a ‘person without a body (i.e. a spirit) who is eternal, free, able to do anything, knows everything, is perfectly good, is the proper object of human worship and obedience, the creator and sustainer of the universe”, and J. L. Mackie, while arguing the case of atheism, endorses Swinburne's definition of theism.

This paper is concerned with the nature of mystical knowledge in the higher stages of mystical realization, with particular reference to the teachings of St John of the Cross. Correspondences and parallels with the writings of other mystics may be noticed, but it is not the purpose of this discussion to elucidate these in detail.

David Hume's greatness depends in large part on how his writings hint at beautiful and coherent theories which are recognizably Humean despite their divergences from the untidy originals. Now, perhaps the clearest vision of a contradiction–free Platonic Form of Hume was had by J. L. Mackie; he described it in such masterpieces as The Cement of the Universe, Ethics: Inventing Right and Wrong, and The Miracle of Theism. How successful is this last in its attack on theism? I shall discuss Mackie's case against theism of a Platonic or Neoplatonic type which replaces ‘God as a person or mind or spirit’ by a more abstract Creative Force or Principle. Mackie sees in it a ‘a formidable rival’ to any theism treating of a divine being; ‘if you demand an ultimate explanation, then this may well be a better one’ (MT, 234–5). But, his chapter thirteen contends, it fares badly in competition with an atheistic, naturalistic approach.

It is sometimes asserted that Philo of Alexandria (c. 40/30 B.C.–A.D. 40/50) is the creator of systematic theology – not because he created systematics, that is, a body of doctrine classified and integrated by a set of principles defined in philosophical terms, but because he created theology, that is, a mode of philosophizing which derives its main categories from a supernatural revelation. Such a mode was pursued by Philo's Christian disciples, among whom was Origen (c. A.D. 185 to C. 254), one of the first of his faith to attempt, unsuccessfully, to formulate a systematics. Not until John Damascene (c. 675 to c. 749) was the attempt realized, but only in part: for while Damascene does classify the doctrinal truths of the Christian faith in an orderly manner, and through the use of philosophically defined concepts, he does not seek to investigate their inner philosophical intelligibility and cohesiveness. Christian doctrine was too involved for being viewed comprehensively all at once, and while some theologians, like Dionysius (c. A.D. 500) and Maximus the Confessor (c. 580–662), appear to have grasped its inner architectonics, they seem to have been unable to express it in a clear and structured literary form.

Like so many of the concepts in our everyday language the concept of meaning is one which has a multitude of different applications. In the continuing debate within social anthropology and philosophy about how we are to understand ritual behaviour and religious customs in general among people in pre-literate cultures, advocates of different views have sought to explain the meaning of the beliefs in such cultures. In speaking of the meaning of beliefs these scholars use the concept in ways that vary to some extent depending on how, in a wider perspective, they look upon religion and magic in primitive societies. One example of a particular way of looking at the beliefs and practices of alien peoples is the standpoint of John Skorupski. In his article, ‘The Meaning of Another Culture's Beliefs’, he argues for a theory of meaning, or principle of interpretation, which he calls classical and realist in its semantic aspects, and which relies on an intellectualist sociology of thought.

The doctrine of divine simplicity, the doctrine that God has no physical or metaphysical complexity whatsoever, is not a doctrine designed to induce immediate philosophical acquiescence. There are severe questions about its coherence. And even if those questions can be answered satisfactorily in favour of the doctrine, there remains the question why anyone should accept it. Thomas V. Morris raises both sorts of questions about a version of the doctrine which I have put forward. In the following pages I shall respond to what I take to be the most serious of Morris's objections. I shall argue that the doctrine survives Morris's onslaught, but that one observation of his points it in a direction I had hitherto not taken seriously. The bulk of Morris's paper raises questions of the first sort; perforce the bulk of my paper will also. I shall offer, at the end, a reason for thinking that neither of us is yet in a position to pronounce categorically on the second question. My remarks in this paper constitute an interim report on how I think things presently stand with divine simplicity.

Donald R. Gregory has recently argued that the monk Gaunilo's response to St Anselm's ontological argument succeeds in showing what is fundamentally wrong with any ontological argument, including modern modal versions. He holds that the Gaunilo strategy in fact demonstrates what it alleges, that reasoning which parallels the form and intent ofAnselm's reductio argument can ‘prove’ a priori the existence of quite unacceptable entities.

Recently there have been a number of attempts at showing that God's attributes are conceptually defective (Kretzman, Mackie). Foremost among the attributes singled out for criticism is omnipotence. But critics have also questioned the logical compatibility of omniscience and immutability and also omnipotence and omniscience.

Comparative study of religions and philosophies, in spite of its significance and urgency, has been neither fully appreciated nor developed in the study of religion or philosophy. Comparative study, historically speaking, is still young and complex in its approach. Religious Studies as an intellectual discipline has traditionally concentrated on the investigation of a single tradition, enabling a student to become an ‘expert’ in that particular tradition. The world in which we live, however, no longer allows us to be content with the idea, the value, the way of thinking in our own tradition alone. In short, we no longer live in a ‘provincial’ age but in a ‘global’ age.

Would personal immortality have any value for one so endowed? An affirmative answer would seem so obvious to some that they might be tempted to go so far as to claim that immortality is a condition of life's having any value at all. The claim that immortality is a necessary condition for the meaningfulness of life seems untenable. What, however, of the claim that immortality is a sufficient condition for the meaningfulness of life? Though some might hold this to be the characteristic religious view, this is certainly disputable. Thus McTaggart reminds us, for instance, that ‘Buddhism... holds immortality to be the natural state of man, from which only the most perfect can escape.’ I want to argue that we can imagine variants of personal immortality which would not be valuable and hence immortality in itself cannot be a sufficient condition for value. What is required for the meaningfulness of life is that life exhibit certain valuable qualities. But then the endless exhibition of these qualities is not only unnecessary for the meaningfulness of life, but the endlessness of a life can even devalue those qualities that would make valuable a single, bounded life.

Do followers of different religions share common ground at the level of their morality, despite their disagreements over doctrine and metaphysical beliefs? A typical statement of this view was made recently by the Dalai Lama.

The present paper tries to trace the particular contours that the problem of theodicy assumes in the Chinese Buddhist text the Awakening of Faith in the Great Vehicle (Ta-sheng ch'i-hsin lun). It analyses the beginning section of the main body of text – the section, that is, that outlines the major theoretical structure of the work – in terms of a problem that has been of particular concern in western theology. I believe that taking such a tack is especially valuable for highlighting the central Problematik around which the text is organized. The paper will thus use the problem of theodicy as a means of exploring some of the philosophical implications of the Awakening of Faith.

One of the most difficult problems for a student of religion is the problem of how to relate different religious views of life. It is not difficult to say, ‘My religious orientation has the only truth,’ but the art of giving evidence and argument to support a view on how they should be compared is almost nonexistent. Because of this, the recent work that John Hick has done in this area deserves thoughtful consideration. Since I am working on a book which is concerned with this issue, I am not only going to discuss Hick's views but also defend an alternative way of relating religious views of life. I hope this article will stimulate reactions which will be of help in my work on the book.

Recently there has been considerable debate about the relationship between the religions of the world; in particular Christians have been anxious to formulate a theology of other religions which transcends the traditional Christian belief that God's revelation and salvation are offered exclusively in Jesus Christ. In this context a number of theologians have questioned the finality of Christ and Christianity. Professor John Hick for example - the leading proponent of this view - speaks of a Copernican revolution in theology which involves a radical transformation of the concept of the universe of faiths. It demands, he writes, ‘a paradigm shift from a Christianity–centred or Jesus–centred to a God–centred model of the universe of faiths. One then sees the great world religions as different human responses to the one divine Reality, embodying different perceptions which have been formed in different historical and cultural circumstances. Similarly, the Roman Catholic priest, Raimundo Panikaar, endorses a new map of world religions. Advocating a revised form of ecumenism which strives for unity without harming religious diversity, Panikaar argues that the fundamental religious fact of the world's religions is the mystery known in every authentic religious experience. For Panikaar, this mystery within all religions is both more than and yet has its being within the diverse experiences and beliefs of the religions: ‘It is not simply that there are different ways of leading to the peak, but that the summit itself would collapse if all the paths disappeared. The peak is in a certain sense the result of the slopes leading to it.… It is not that this reality has many names as if there were a reality outside the name. This reality is the many names and each name is a new aspect.’ Such a vision of the universe of faiths implies that no religion can claim final or absolute authority.

The major religious traditions clearly seem to be making very different claims about the nature of the religious ultimate and our relation to this ultimate. For example, orthodox Christians believe in an infinite creator God who has revealed himself definitively in the Incarnation in Jesus. But while affirming that there is one God who is creator and judge, devout Muslims reject as blasphemous any suggestion thatJesus was God incarnate. Theravada Buddhists, on the other hand, do not regard the religious ultimate as an ontologically distinct creator at all. And even within, say, the Buddhist family of traditions sharp differences emerge: followers of Jodo-Shinshu (True Sect of the Pure Land) Buddhism maintain that salvation/enlightenment is attainable simply through exercising faith in the Amida Buddha and the recitation of the nembutsu, whereas Zen monks reject as illusory any worldview which implies dualism and hold that enlightenment or satori (viz, a direct, unmediated apprehension of the ultimate nature of reality which transcends all distinctions) is to be attained only through rigorous self-discipline.