This chapter explores the implications of the new status of belief by reconsidering traditional arguments for the existence of God. If disbelief in the supernatural was not a live option before the appearance of modern secularity, what was the point of articulating proofs of God’s existence? This chapter shows that the so-called classical proofs performed a very different function to the one that they were later to assume, being more akin to spiritual exercises than logical arguments constructed from neutral premises. Crucially, one of the central ‘proofs’—that based on universal consensus—involved an appeal to the ubiquity and universality of religious belief. The demise of this ‘argument’ in the early modern period signalled a major change in how belief in the supernatural came to be understood, indicating that the burden of proof was shifting from unbelievers to believers. This was accompanied by a new conception of natural theology, understood as an enterprise that could provide support for religious belief on rational grounds alone. The changing status of natural theology and proofs for God’s existence correlated directly with the appearance of a new notion of belief and the requirements for its justification.

The distinction between philosophical theology and philosophy of religion is examined in relation to the role of faith commitments in each, and the notion of doctrinal statements as ‘truth claims’ is examined in terms whether ‘natural theology’ can legitimately be pursued. It is argued that the praeambula fidei version of this pursuit is illegitimate, partly because of the way in which ‘design’ arguments have often been overturned and partly because of the kinds of theological considerations put forward by Thomas Torrance and Alister McGrath. The relevance of Thomas Kuhn’s understanding of the scientific enterprise is also noted, especially in relation to his notion of paradigms.

The distortions of Augustinian and Calvinist approaches to natural theology are noted, and the different approach of Eastern Orthodoxy is examined, especially in relation to the notion of noetic perception in the approach of Gregory of Nyssa and to its application to the contemplation of nature as understood by Maximus the Confessor. More purely ‘philosophical’ considerations are also examined, especially in relation to the ‘weight’ that is assigned to competing arguments. In this context, the concept of noetic perception is applied to the notion of ‘baptized reason’. It is suggested that in relation to the praeambula fidei approach of Thomas Aquinas, even scholastic versions of natural theology may need revision because of nuances in that work that are often unrecognized.

This chapter turns from a broader consideration of poetic works on divine and human creation to the most influential biblical epic in English: Milton’s Paradise Lost. Recent work on Milton has shown harmony between the content and form of Paradise Lost and the methods and aims of modern science. However, an underappreciated strand of scientific reform still needs to be integrated into our understanding of Milton’s relationship to science: a marginalization of natural theology. By working against this trend, Milton aligns himself instead with those scientific reformers who promoted natural theology, providing in Paradise Lost a rubric for applying human science to theological understanding while resisting the anthropocentrism and modern notion of reason that undergirded many contemporary prose works of natural theology. In contrast with contemporaries who emphasized the evidence of divine power in nature, Milton insists that love is the divine attribute most visible in creation, even outside of Eden. A natural theology that discerns divine love is more at home in Milton’s poetic world than in the increasingly reductive material reality on which works of physico-theology drew.

This one will explore how natural theology infused the imagination of John Bunyan. Among his imaginative works, Bunyan’s engagement with the book of nature grew between publication of the first part of Pilgrim’s Progress (1678) and the second part (1684) and his Book for Boys and Girls (1686). But Bunyan differed from the physico-theologians in his understanding of nature’s ideal audience and how far nature could bring people toward salvation. Unlike contemporary scientists, Bunyan held that no special training was required to read theological messages in nature; in fact, the book of nature was especially suitable for women and children. To derive any benefit from nature, however, a person needed a conscience already awakened to faith. Bunyan’s treatment of nature differs, on the one hand, from earlier emblem texts in which images were printed in the book—requiring no direct experience of the natural world—and, on the other, from physico-theology, which increasingly required an expert’s understanding of that world.

Focusing on Donne’s view of natural theology, especially from 1614 onward, this chapter makes two central claims. First, considering Donne biographically, I argue that while there is important continuity in Donne’s career (insofar as he engages with the book of nature throughout), his vocational turn in the years 1611–1614 refocuses, reshapes, and intensifies that engagement: the skeptical and noncommittal attitude toward apprehension of the divine in the sensible world that can be traced in the Songs and Sonnets is replaced by a clearer and altogether more hopeful tone in the Essayes, with Donne further developing his insights about the book of nature in his sermons and the Devotions. Second, I argue that Donne’s insights deserve to be included in historical studies of natural theology in the early seventeenth century and his exclusion has been partly facilitated by scholarly emphasis on his earlier work, although this is changing.

This chapter focuses on how Herbert and Vaughan depict the natural world as capable of revealing theological truth--and humans as capable of receiving that truth--in their widely read devotional lyrics. Ultimately, Herbert and Vaughan do not just hint at what kind of natural theology might be possible or edifying given their respective understandings of science and nature; both authors practice natural theology in their devotional poetry. Because the two poets differ on the value of human science and the theological status of nature, however, they differ markedly on how and when natural theology may usefully be practiced. Herbert views natural theology along the lines Bacon laid down in his Essays and Advancement of Learning, anticipating—and perhaps even influencing—the physico-theology of John Ray later in the century. Vaughan, by contrast, retains the older view that more theological insight is available in nature than just the facts of God’s existence and providence, making less of a distinction than Herbert between nature and scripture.

This introduction lays out the thesis of the book before defining the key terms "literature" and "natural theology" as they were understood in early modern England. It then briefly surveys the historiography of natural theology and relevant bodies of literary criticism and provides summaries of each chapter.

Faith in God conflicts with reason – or so we are told. This chapter focuses on two arguments for this conclusion. After evaluating three criticisms of them, we identify an assumption they share, namely that faith in God requires belief that God exists. Whether the assumption is true depends on what faith is. We sketch a theory of faith that allows for both faith in God without belief that God exists, and faith in God while in belief-cancelling doubt regarding God’s existence. We then argue that our theory, unlike the theory of Thomas Aquinas, makes sense of four central items of faith-data: (i) pístis in the Synoptics, (ii) ʾemunāh in the Hebrew scriptures, (iii) exemplars of faith in God, including Abraham, Jesus, and Mother Teresa, and (iv) the widespread experience of people of faith today. We close by assessing revisions of the two arguments we began with, revisions that align with our theory of faith, and find them dubious, at best.

It is no exaggeration to say that there has been an explosion of activity in the field of philosophical enquiry known as natural theology. Having been smothered in the early part of the twentieth century due to the dominance of logical positivism, natural theology began to make a comeback in the late 1950s as logical positivism collapsed and analytic philosophers took a newfound interest in metaphysical topics such as possibility and necessity, causation, time, the mind–body problem, and God. This chapter begins by considering how we might characterize natural theology as a field of enquiry. It then proceeds to survey the landscape of contemporary natural theology, which has spawned a large and at times highly technical body of literature. Finally, consideration is given to two epistemological issues confronting the theist who wishes to appeal to natural theology, namely, the problem of the gap(s) and the problem of accessibility.

Generations of Christians, Janet Soskice demonstrates, once knew God and Christ by hundreds of remarkable names. These included the appellations ‘Messiah’, ‘Emmanuel’, ‘Alpha’, ‘Omega’, ‘Eternal’, ‘All-Powerful’, ‘Lamb’, ‘Lion’, ‘Goat’, ‘One’, ‘Word’, ‘Serpent’ and ‘Bridegroom’. In her much-anticipated new book, Soskice argues that contemporary understandings of divinity could be transformed by a return to a venerable analogical tradition of divine naming. These ancient titles – drawn from scripture – were chanted and sung, crafted and invoked (in polyphony and plainsong) as they were woven into the worship of the faithful. However, during the sixteenth century Descartes moved from ‘naming’ to ‘defining’ God via a series of metaphysical attributes. This made God a thing among things: a being amongst beings. For the author, reclaiming divine naming is not only overdue. It can also re-energise the relationship between philosophy and religious tradition. This path-breaking book shows just how rich and revolutionary such reclamation might be.

The central feature of Bert Bissell’s life was his deep-seated Methodist faith. Bissell went to the hills (always the hills for him) to renew contact with this faith rather than to discover it for the first time. Climbing mountains in search of God has a long history and Bissell’s dedication to it suggests we should not be too quick to construe ruralism or nature worship as a displacement of religion. Nevertheless, even in Bissell’s case, other elements than religion contributed to his ruralism, including strong physical and social impulses. Perhaps most important of all was the need to shore up his own sense of self in the face of a world moving rapidly away from his most cherished beliefs and values.