Int J Philos Relig (2016) 79:69–86 DOI 10.1007/s11153-015-9537-y ARTICLE
Divine hiddenness and the one sheep Travis Dumsday1
Received: 27 April 2015 / Accepted: 23 July 2015 / Published online: 6 August 2015 Springer Science+Business Media Dordrecht 2015
Abstract Next to the problem of evil, the problem of divine hiddenness has become the most prominent argument for atheism in the current literature. The basic idea is that if God really existed, He would make sure that anyone able and willing to engage in relationship with Him (i.e., who are nonresistant towards Him) would have a rationally indubitable belief in Him at all times (since stable belief is a necessary precondition for a long-term, loving relationship). But as a matter of fact we see that the world includes nonresistant nonbelievers. Therefore God doesn’t exist. Here I propose a reply to the problem that shifts focus from the nonresistant nonbelievers to those who are resistant. I claim (along with Morris (Making sense of it all: Pascal and the meaning of life. Eerdmans, Grand Rapids, 1992), Howard-Snyder (Can J Philos 26:433–453, 1996), and others) that for many such people, having God’s reality forced upon them unwillingly might result in significant spiritual/moral harm, inhibiting their ability to develop a positive relationship with God. (I also respond to Schellenberg’s (Relig Stud 41:201–215, 2005a) general critique of any strategy that references the notion of God’s proper non-revelation to the resistant.) If this is true, it could help explain why God refrains from revealing Himself in a rationally indubitable manner not only to the resistant, but even to the nonresistant. Why? Because it may be that under present circumstances God is actually more concerned about the welfare of the resistant than of the willing; and revealing Himself to all of the willing could actually result in the truth of theism being forced on the resistant. Keywords
Hiddenness Atheism Theism God Belief
& Travis Dumsday
[email protected] 1
Canada Research Chair in Theology and the Philosophy of Science, Department of Philosophy and Religious Studies, Concordia University of Edmonton, 7128 Ada Blvd., Edmonton, AB T5B 4E4, USA
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Introduction If God exists, why doesn’t He make His existence more obvious? Why not make it so obvious that it could not rationally be doubted? This is a question with a longstanding pedigree, going back to the patristic era.1 More recently, it has been turned into an argument for atheism popularly known as the ‘problem of divine hiddenness’: God supposedly exists and loves us. But it is of the very nature of love that the lover seeks open, explicit relationship with the beloved. This is especially obvious in a case where the ultimate well-being of the beloved requires engaging in that relationship, which any well-formed theistic belief system will claim is true of human beings. But such relationship cannot exist if one party to it is not aware of the existence of the other. Consequently if God really existed He would make sure that all those able and willing to engage Him in relationship had, at all times, a rationally indubitable belief in Him. But as a matter of fact we find that the world contains nonresistant nonbelievers, i.e., people who are able and willing to believe in God but who lack such belief. Therefore either God doesn’t exist or He doesn’t love us. But since God is by definition infinitely good, necessarily He would love us. Therefore He doesn’t exist. Schellenberg (2007a, pp. 204–206), one of the argument’s key proponents, provides a helpfully concise formulation: (1)
(2)
(3)
(4)
(5)
Necessarily, if God exists, anyone who is (i) not resisting God and (ii) capable of meaningful conscious relationship with God is also (iii) in a position to participate in such relationship (able to do so just by trying). Necessarily, one is at a time in a position to participate in a meaningful conscious relationship with God only if at that time one believes that God exists. Necessarily, if God exists, anyone who is (i) not resisting God and (ii) capable of meaningful conscious relationship with God also (iii) believes that God exists. There are (and often have been) people who are (i) not resisting God and (ii) capable of meaningful conscious relationship with God without also (iii) believing that God exists. And from the conjunction of (3) and (4) it clearly follows that God does not exist.
Note that this is a particularly robust formulation of the argument; on other versions theism is consistent with the existence of some nonresistant nonbelief, but is not consistent with the existence of the huge amounts of nonresistant nonbelief we see in the world (as in the formulations of Drange (1993, 1998) and Keller (1995)2), or its apparently random unequal distribution across cultures (as in Maitzen (2006)). 1
See for instance St. Athanasius (1892), chs. 11–15; St. Augustine (1993, pp. 106–118); St. John Chrysostom (1889), homilies 2 and 4–8; St. Gregory Nazianzus (1894), oration 28, Chap. 12; and Origen (1885) book 3, Chap. 1.
2
Though it’s worth noting that in the end Keller uses the problem of divine hiddenness to argue for process theism (which posits a non-omnipotent God) rather than atheism.
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The literature on the problem continues to expand, with many replies3 and counterreplies4 issued. My aim in this paper is to explore a defence5 according to which God’s permission of nonresistant nonbelief may be justified by His loving concern for the resistant. I claim (in company with Morris (1992), Howard-Snyder (1996), Garcia (2002), Lehe (2004), and others), that for many of the latter class, having God’s reality forced upon them when they are in a state of resistance to God might result in significant spiritual/moral harm, inhibiting their ability to develop a positive relationship with God long-term. And if this is true, it could help explain why God refrains from revealing Himself in a rationally indubitable manner not only to the resistant, but even to the nonresistant. Why? Because it may be that under present circumstances God is actually more concerned about the welfare of the resistant than of the willing; and revealing Himself to all of the willing could actually result in the truth of theism being forced on the resistant (for reasons I’ll develop below). In keeping with the Biblical model, God’s concern for the welfare of His lost people might outweigh his desire to commune openly with the willing. In Matthew 18:11–14, Christ says the following: ‘‘For the Son of Man has come to save that which was lost. What do you think? If a man has a hundred sheep, and one of them goes astray, does he not leave the ninety-nine and go to the mountains to seek the one that is straying? And if he should find it, assuredly, I say to you he rejoices more over that sheep than over the ninety-nine that did not go astray. Even so it is not the will of your Father who is in heaven that one of these little ones should perish.’’ (NKJV) The paper is divided as follows. In the next section I develop this strategy of response, a strategy which (at the risk of sounding cutesy) I will refer to here as the ‘one sheep reply’. This requires first engaging in some stage-setting, reviewing the relevant works of Morris (1992) and Howard-Snyder (1996), and Schellenberg’s (1996, 2005a) critiques thereof. After replying to some of those critiques, I present the one sheep reply as a necessary way of addressing a remaining concern, and advancing the debate further. Then in section three I take up a series of objections against it. Finally I conclude by drawing attention briefly to the place this strategy might have in a wider cumulative-case response to the problem of divine hiddenness. For, just as with the problem of evil, I am inclined to think that no single reply is likely to provide a wholly convincing resolution, and that a cumulative case based on a combination of multiple compatible replies is the best way to go.
3
See Aijaz and Weidler (2007), Azadegan (2013a, b, 2014), Brown (2013), Cullison (2010), Cuneo (2013), Dumsday (2010a, b, 2012a,b, 2013, 2014a, b), Evans (2006, 2010), Hick (1981), Henry (2001, 2008), King (2008, 2013), Marsh (2008), McBrayer and Swenson (2012), McCreary (2010), McKim (1990, 2001), Moser (2007, 2008), Murray (2002), Oakes (2008), O’Connell (2013), Poston and Dougherty (2007), Rea (2009), Swinburne (1998, 2004), van Inwagen (2002, 2006), Thune (2006), Tucker (2008), and Weidler and Aijaz (2013). 4
Significant contributions include Cordry (2008), Lovering (2004), Maitzen (2008), Trakakis (2007), and Schellenberg (1993, 1996, 2005a, b, c, 2007a, b, 2008a, b, 2010a, 2013).
5
I use the term ‘defence’ deliberately, wishing to invoke the ‘defence versus theodicy’ contrast familiar from the literature on the problem of evil. In that context a defence is usually understood to be a possible scenario, offered to show that the problem admits of a solution, without necessarily affirming that that really is the solution. A theodicy, on the other hand, is a solution offered as the genuine, true explanation for the existence of evil. The burden of proof is obviously lighter on the former.
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The one sheep reply A number of replies to the problem of divine hiddenness proceed from the premise that rationally indubitable belief in theism could actually be bad for some of us, and this even though a positive relationship with God is necessary for everyone’s ultimate well-being. The reason for this is that in many cases such knowledge, if obtained prematurely (before certain moral/spiritual change has taken place), could potentially harm the long-term prospects for developing such a relationship. Consider first what Morris (1992, pp. 98–99), drawing on Pascal, writes: In human development, the paramount importance attaches not just to what we know but to what we become and do. Perfect clarity, the free gift of unambiguous knowledge in matters of religion might for many people be dangerous….One of the best-known Pascalian themes is that of the greatness and wretchedness of humanity. To know our wretchedness without knowing our greatness produces despair. To know our greatness without realizing our wretchedness inflames our pride. To know God clearly without as the same time having a proper self-knowledge would likewise promote pridefulness, Pascal believes, because we would be tempted to exult in our capacity for divinity to the exclusion of our weaknesses. He expands on this a bit later (ibid., pp. 100–101): ‘‘Pascal wants us to imagine what would happen if any of us came to know God in a close encounter without being properly prepared. His suggestion is that we would quickly hit the zenith of pridefulness, as many people do who falsely take themselves to be in special, intimate communion with God….Religious knowledge without moral qualifications would be dangerous.’’ Instead God must moderate His self-disclosure, delaying His personal revelations until we have some sense of our own fallenness and a measure of humility. And for those who do develop the necessary virtues such that they can handle open relationship with God, God will eventually grant such open relationship. In the meantime, uncertainty about ultimate questions brings home to us our own limitations, helping to build up the requisite virtue of humility and prompting us to seek diligently for the answers, which act of seeking, if persisted in, will itself build both humility and a greater love of truth. Further, Morris writes (ibid., p. 103) that ‘‘we cannot know God without standing in the right relationship to God. We cannot know our true selves without standing in the right relationship to those selves. And all these relations are inextricably bound together. Receptivity to ultimate truth requires humility, and humility of the proper sort.’’ Here Morris alludes to the idea that virtue may be necessary not only for developing a positive relationship with God, after becoming aware of His reality, but even for becoming aware of God’s reality at all. He does not expand much on this idea, but it seems to be an instance of the general principle of like knowing like, or ‘it takes one to know one’—that is, to apprehend God specifically as God, even in an intense religious experience, requires deep virtue, or else the moral perfection of God may be unrecognized/misapprehended.
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One implication of Morris’ claims here is that the category of the nonresistant, understood as those able and willing to engage in relationship with God, may need some further subdivisions. For it may be that one can be able in the minimal sense of having the cognitive capacities to experience God and to understand that what is being experienced is God specifically, and yet not have the moral capacity to make proper use of that experience in developing a genuinely positive relationship with God. Or it may be that the very capacity to know God indubitably as God requires profound virtue. Likewise one may be willing to engage God in relationship, in a sense, without really being willing to do so in the proper manner (only possible manner?): humbly. So the idea is that the category of the nonresistant may be somewhat different in nature than what is supposed by the proponents of the hiddenness argument. What nonresistance amounts to, on Morris’ view, is not only a basic ability and willingness to engage in a relationship with God, but an ability and will to do so in a virtuous, humble fashion. That being the case, and since so many of us lack the requisite degree of virtue, God delays making Himself known to many of us, at least through direct, rationally indubitable religious experience. (Presumably absorbing ultimate truths via an intuition of creation’s significance, trust in the testimony of others, or trust in an institution like the Church, is inherently less likely to foster pride.) Perhaps contrary to first appearances many of us are in fact resistant, on this clarified understanding of the resistant/nonresistant divide. How exactly does this impact the problem of divine hiddenness? It could mitigate the versions proffered by Drange and Keller, insofar as it might show that, in Morris’ sense, there is very little genuinely nonresistant nonbelief; i.e., there are relatively few who possess the moral rectitude required to engage in direct, experiential contact with God without risking further significant damage to our characters (and, by extension, risking our long-term ability to engage God in positive relationship). And perhaps those who do have the requisite virtue do regularly experience such communion. Certainly Roman Catholic and Eastern Orthodox hagiographies would lend some support to this notion. It might even undercut Schellenberg’s robust formulation, casting doubt on what may have seemed the clear fact that there are instances of genuinely nonresistant non belief (properly defined). Schellenberg (2005a) levels a number of important criticisms against this sort of approach, which we’ll take up soon. But before moving on to them, it will be helpful to explore Howard-Snyder’s (1996) comparable (though not equivalent) reply to the hiddenness problem. He considers three kinds of reaction that someone might have to an overture from God: rejection, complete indifference, and reciprocation. Looking at the first, Howard-Snyder suggests that someone strongly disposed to reject God, whether culpable for having acquired that disposition or not, might be better off not receiving a rationally indubitable revelation from God. He asks (1996, p. 441) ‘‘what benefit would there be for me if God brought it about that I believed that He existed when I am such that, face-to-face, it is at least very likely that I would reject Him? Indeed, if He brought it about that I believed, I would probably only confirm myself in my defective disposition by actually rejecting Him…. In that case, God’s failure to supply reasonable grounds for me to believe that He exists
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would be an act of mercy, a gracious response to one in such an unfortunate state.’’ He takes it that much the same point could be made with respect to those likely to react with indifference. As to those who are well-disposed, such that they would likely engage God in a positive relationship, Howard-Snyder distinguishes between those who are well-disposed and are responsible for being in that state, and those who are well-disposed but through no merit of their own.6 He thinks that God might be justified in remaining temporarily ‘hidden’ from at least some members of both classes of the well-disposed. In the case of those who are personally responsible for their good disposition, he suggests that God might delay revealing Himself in order to allow the person to develop his/her character further such that the resulting relationship will be deeper and more genuine than it otherwise would have been, or to correct for defective motivation (i.e., the person might indeed be disposed to engage God in relationship, but for bad reasons, like wanting to secure power by devoting him/herself to this omnipotent being—here a similarity to Morris’ approach is apparent). For those who are well-disposed through no merit of their own (perhaps their good disposition is a product of upbringing independent of any autonomous reflection) God might wish to delay a personal revelation until the individual has autonomously appropriated that good disposition, on the ground that the resulting positive relationship will be more valuable inherently. Finally, Howard-Snyder also considers the (at least epistemically possible) scenario of someone who is so internally conflicted as to his/her likely reaction that the likelihoods of rejection vs. indifference vs. reciprocation are equally balanced. Here he thinks the same basic answer is given as for those in the likely-rejection category (ibid., p. 448): ‘‘Then there is a grave risk in his coming to theistic belief. For if he comes to believe that God exists and then spurns His love, he is well on his way to reinforcing an extremely harmful disposition. In that case, the better part of wisdom may well be to let him form and/or confirm in himself a deeply entrenched disposition to love God.’’ Howard-Snyder takes up a number of possible objections, and some additional ones are proffered in a direct reply by Schellenberg (1996). The latter argues that if given an experiential revelation of God, it is highly unlikely that anyone would respond with rejection or indifference, given the supposedly unsurpassably great nature of God (ibid., p. 460): ‘‘But if we consider that this [revelation of God’s existence] could occur through religious experience, through a direct encounter with an omnipotent love capable of softening even the most self-centered or embittered soul, then it seems that this class of individuals must be empty.’’ Moreover, even if some would have a negative interaction, it’s not as if God has only one chance at this. God would pursue the person repeatedly, long-term, continually hoping that repeated encounters might soften the resistant nonbeliever’s resistance. As to those positively disposed, defects in love or in motivation can be corrected within the context of an open, explicit relationship—they need not be addressed before the person is even sure of God’s reality. 6
He adds another distinction to the mix, namely that between those who are likely to reciprocate but could choose otherwise and those who are certain to reciprocate. I will leave this distinction to one side, as I doubt that the second category could ever be actualized, given human freedom (and a plausible rejection of molinism).
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Those are Schellenberg’s immediate replies; later, he supplies quite a different line of response, one designed to forestall any critique of the hiddenness argument relevantly analogous to those summarized above. Addressing not only HowardSnyder (1996) but also Lehe (2004) and Garcia (2002), who both put forward similar responses (and which in the interests of space I will not summarize here), he writes (2005a, p. 206): Howard-Snyder makes it clear…that he is thinking of individuals whose relevant characteristics presuppose some considerable experience of life, and indeed, many of his points—for example, that there may be inculpable nonbelievers who, embittered by suffering, would reject God if they came to believe that God exists—have little plausibility unless this is assumed. Now why do such points fail to be relevant as replies to the hiddenness argument laid out above? Well, because it does not follow from the fact (if it is a fact) that some bad state of affairs would be permitted, or some good foregone, if God gives evidence for belief to some inculpable non-believer7 in the midst of life that such would be the case if God had prevented her from ever being an inculpable non-believer in the first place; and it is the latter states of affairs that the hiddenness argument tells us we will find if there is a God. [Emphases in original]. The claim is that Howard-Snyder and others have misconstrued part of what is going on in the problem of divine hiddenness. The central question is not ‘why is God allowing those who are currently nonresistant nonbelievers to remain so’ but rather ‘why would God ever allow any nonresistant nonbelief to arise?’ This emphasis is evident in his discussion of the way that God would have to go about revealing Himself to us in order to ensures that such nonbelief never occurs. Schellenberg argues that if God existed He would make His presence known to each of us via a direct and continuous religious experience beginning from very early in life (1993, p. 49): This experience, let us say, is non-sensory—an intense apparent awareness of a reality at once ultimate and loving which (1) produces the belief that God is lovingly present (and ipso facto, that God exists), (2) continues indefinitely in stronger or weaker forms and minimally as a ‘background awareness’ in those who do not resist it, and (3) takes more particular forms in the lives of those who respond to the beliefs to which it gives rise in religiously appropriate ways…. Since the experience is had as soon as a capacity for personal relationship with God exists, we may suppose that it occurs quite early on in the life of each individual, in particular, before any investigations as to the existence of God have been undertaken. We may further suppose that any investigations subsequently undertaken…fail to undermine…the beliefs formed by this experience.
7
For reasons we needn’t get into here, in his more recent work Schellenberg has switched to the terminology of ‘nonresistant nonbelievers.’
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There is reason to think that such a model of revelation has advantages over and against other prospective models, such as God’s provision of grand worldwide miracles or making available better arguments from natural theology. On such grounds Dumsday (2012a, p. 185) concurs with Schellenberg as to the necessity of the latter’s model (or something akin to it) for the prevention of all nonresistant non belief, (which is Schellenberg’s focus) and also takes the point to be relevant to other versions of the hiddenness argument: Schellenberg may be correct in thinking that something like this model of divine self-disclosure would have to obtain in order to ensure that every living adult at all times had a rational belief in God. In fact, it might be needed even on the milder requirements of Drange, Keller, and Maitzen. If the large majority of people throughout human history and across cultures are to believe in God, it will not be enough that the arguments of natural theology be more convincing than they are now. Even in such a world (say, where the argument from design is more effective because scientists discover that the universe really is only 6,000 years old), there is no guarantee that people will be aware of the proofs. Perhaps there will be widespread ignorance of the relevant facts and reasoning. Or consider a world in which there are periodic global miracles. Here, van Inwagen’s (2002, pp. 28–31) point about such miracles carries some force, namely that they would still be attributable to a powerful demiurge rather than God. By contrast, a personal experience of the divine, one directly revealing certain attributes of God or aspects of His character on a personal level, might avoid this obstacle. Let’s assume then that the prevention of nonresistant non belief (whether total or even just for the most part) entails divine provision of multiple, powerful religious experiences to every person on the planet, beginning from as early an age as possible. For Schellenberg then, the central issue in the hiddenness debate is why God doesn’t disclose Himself in that manner specifically, and on his view when the problem is understood in that way, the sorts of replies made by Morris et al. fail to address it. In the remainder of this section I’m going to do two things. First I’m going to take up the criticisms levelled by Schellenberg. Then I’m going to present a new point, and argue that if God is justified in not revealing Himself to the resistant, ipso facto He also has adequate reason not to reveal Himself to all nonresistant nonbelievers—i.e., the ‘one sheep’ reply, which can best be understood in the context of the preceding dialectic. To Schellenberg’s (1996) initial objection with respect to nonbelief among those prone to rejection of God (namely that it is highly unlikely that anyone could respond negatively to genuine contact with God), note that Morris could respond by referencing his idea that a person’s moral status might not merely provoke a bad response to God, but might even prevent the person from recognizing God qua God. If that is possible, then Schellenberg’s objection cannot go through; nor indeed can his second point concerning the likelihood of God’s persistence in seeking out relationship. Again, if moral laxity prevents recognition, such continual pursuit,
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absent moral reform, would not be effective.8 As to his point regarding the welldisposed (namely that God can always correct for bad motives/defective love in the midst of relationship rather than insisting they be dealt with in advance), this may underestimate the problematic nature of such initial deficiencies. Or, in more theological terms, the objection exhibits insufficient horror at grievous sin. To engage in a relationship with God out of a desire for power (to use one of HowardSnyder’s examples) is a serious wrong deserving of just punishment. Perhaps God wants to spare us that moral culpability. Or, to refer back to Morris’ account, to employ contact with God as an opportunity for an ego-boost might be seen as comparably horrid. And even if a person is not quite so ill-motivated at the outset, if he/she begins the relationship from a place of moral turpitude, or even just moral immaturity, the risk of such motivation developing might be significant, such that God might have good reason to delay engaging us until we’ve developed in the relevant respects, and to the requisite degrees (which may be rather more exalted than we tend to think). Of course, one might think that even if those replies carry, they don’t touch Schellenberg’s (2005a) more foundational objection. After all, they make use of the idea that people’s defective characters/dispositions render communion with God difficult or even impossible, and it might be thought that children could not be afflicted with such problems. That last assumption is however a questionable one; Schellenberg apparently takes it that it could not be the case that we might have developed divine-relationship-inhibiting dispositions prior to achieving the (young) age at which conscious relationship with God is possible, at which age Schellenberg’s model of divine self-disclosure dictates that revelation must occur. Now, it might be assumed that prior to that age (whatever it may be, and it may vary from one individual to the next), the children have done no actual acts of wrongdoing—they are morally inculpable, such that no moral guilt could block relationship with God. Nevertheless people can develop problematic dispositions through no fault of their own, through their having been neglected, abused, or even through biological defect (or indeed a combination of all the above). And of course from a theological standpoint many would argue that some negative dispositions are ingrained in us via the taint of original sin.9 The point is, a child might be so formed 8
I would add a further, more tentative observation: we tend to think that a direct experiential encounter with Absolute Perfection would ipso facto be an experience of unparalleled wonder, joy, and ecstasy. But what if it could instead be an experience of terror, desolation, and unutterable despair? Theologians have been known to hypothesize the latter reaction as the inevitable result of the non-righteous consciously entering into the presence of Righteousness itself, which idea has led to the well-known (though by no means universally affirmed) understanding of hell not as exclusion from the presence of God but the experience of that presence by the unrepentant wicked. If that hypothesis is at all tenable, it would provide additional justification for why God might refrain from giving most of us experiential access to him just at present—perhaps we aren’t ready for it and would hardly thank Him if He provided it. On this notion of hell see for instance Ware (1984, p. 266): ‘‘Hell is not so much a place where God imprisons man, as a place where man, by misusing his free will, chooses to imprison himself. And even in Hell the wicked are not deprived of the love of God, but by their own choice they experience as suffering what the saints experience as joy. ‘The love of God will be an intolerable torment for those who have not acquired it within themselves.’’’ The quote Ware employs is from Lossky (1957, p. 234).
9
Different denominations have somewhat different conceptions of this doctrine. Notably, on the Orthodox view Adam’s descendants suffer the consequences of his fall (like corruption and death) but
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(by environment or inheritance or both) as to be likely to respond badly to God’s initial overture, which initial bad response might have seriously negative long-term consequences for his/her ability to form such a relationship. So there remains some reason to think that Schellenberg’s (1993) model of divine self-disclosure does not provide an automatic way out of the sort of concerns raised by Morris (1992) and Howard-Snyder (1996), such that Schellenberg’s (2005a) foundational objection to accounts of that general kind is unsuccessful.10 Still, even taking all that into account, Schellenberg’s argument apparently remains standing. For what of the nonresistant nonbeliever who is of surpassing virtue, such that he/she is very likely to react favourably to a divine self-disclosure, humbly and from good motives, and to preserve that humility and those good motives subsequently? Why would God leave even one such person in the dark, even temporarily? True, the resulting version of the problem of divine hiddenness now may have a different formulation from that of Schellenberg (focusing not on mere nonresistant nonbelief but on nonresistant nonbelief in the sufficiently virtuous), but the problem seems to remain. Howard-Snyder (1996, p. 450) addresses much the same worry in defending his own solution to the hiddenness problem: Even if there were any such people [people thoroughly well-disposed to God, from their own merit, and not in need of further virtue/better motives before properly entering into that relationship], we don’t have what it takes to tell whether there are any. This is one of the key differences between the Argument from Divine Hiddenness and the best versions of the argument from evil. While, in the words of Ivan Karamazov, it is ‘unanswerably clear’ that innocent children suffer horribly, it is unanswerably unclear whether the love to which any well-disposed inculpable nonbeliever is disposed is sufficiently fitting for its object. While I am inclined to agree with Howard-Snyder that there is uncertainty here, one might persist in a counter-reply that the proportion of sufficiently prepared Footnote 9 continued inherit no actual guilt from him, and in consequence are not liable to any punishment simply on account of this—hence the view in Orthodoxy that anything akin to limbo for unbaptized infants must be a serious error. On these points see for instance Pomazansky (2005, pp. 162–169) and Ware (1984, pp. 227–230). Roman Catholic theologians increasingly interpret original sin in a like manner, and it is notable that there is not a single reference to limbo in the new Catechism of the Catholic Church (1995). 10 At this point Schellenberg could counter-reply by arguing that God should then not allow fallenness, or should override our freedom if we do indeed fall into such a state. And indeed he has argued that given the nature of love, and given the axiological significance of such relationship for us, God would indeed properly override our freedom if in the final analysis it got in the way of such relationship (e.g. in his 2007a, pp. 221–222—though note that there he takes up the issue in the context of formulating a broader dilemma concerning freedom). The doctrinal commitments of the Eastern Orthodox Church exclude that possibility from consideration, as do those of some Protestant groups (Wesleyans for instance) and (arguably) the Roman Catholic Church. From their perspective, that sort of counter-reply will not do; moreover many would object to the idea on deontological grounds (for instance the notion that not even God could violate our basic right to moral autonomy) or from other ethical presuppositions. At any rate, such debates concerning God’s duties with respect to our freedom are familiar from discussions in the context of the problem of evil, and I have nothing to add to them here.
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nonresistant nonbelievers may actually be quite high, such that we should see far more people in deep experiential relationships with God than in fact we do. Personally I find this claim implausible, such that Howard-Snyder’s reply is effective for the purposes of defence (if not perhaps theodicy). Still, it would be advantageous if one could say more to defuse that worry concerning the numbers game, the persistent worry that the ranks of the sufficiently virtuous nonresistant may be much greater than we’re assuming. And I think one can say more. Here is where the distinctive ‘one sheep’ reply comes in. Grant for the sake of argument that the number of nonresistsant individuals meeting the moral righteousness requirement is extremely large (which may imply that the stringency of the requirement is itself more modest than I was speculating earlier). How large? Say it’s a substantial majority of the population, 90 % perhaps. Advocates of the hiddenness argument would claim that God would necessarily reveal Himself in an indubitable fashion to that 90 %, who would receive it willingly and act properly in that new awareness. At the same time, the 10 % who aren’t ready to encounter God are left on their own until they get to that point. Everybody wins. So why isn’t the world like that? The answer is that this really isn’t a solution, because in such a world the collective testimony of the 90 % could well be rationally overwhelming, such that the 10 % would not be able to ignore or deny theism, any more than the small percentage of the population that is born blind could deny the existence of sunlight given the overwhelming testimony of those who experience it (even if the blind do not fully understand the nature of that to which they are assenting). The overwhelming witness of the surrounding populace could, at least over time, override disbelief—or at least it could do so for a large number of those remaining 10 %.11 And if we are correct in thinking that being forced into theistic belief before one is ready can be a bad thing for that person’s long-term well-being (as well as entailing in some cases immoral reactions imposing moral culpability, which culpability God may wish to spare the person from) God may have good reason to avoid doing so. In other words: if God were to reveal Himself to all the nonresistant nonbelievers, under conditions where they form a substantial part of the population, then He would be endangering the welfare of the resistant nonbelievers. And it could be that He justifiably wishes to refrain from doing so. Indeed He may be more concerned about the welfare of the resistant—after all, the nonresistant are, comparatively, much better off in their spiritual/moral state. Perhaps they can put up with a delay, and given their virtue they will presumably be willing to do so for the sake of their weaker brethren. Moreover because of their willingness to engage God in relationship, one can be confident that even if they don’t get the opportunity to do so in this life, they will at least get to do so in the next (assuming there may be an afterlife, the possibility of which can reasonably be granted in the present context). That may not be true of the resistant.
11 I could plausibly strengthen this claim to a ‘definitely would’ rather than a mere ‘could’, but given that I’m formulating a defence against the hiddenness argument rather than a theodicy, I can get by with the weaker and more easily defended claim.
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Of course, the numbers here are up for debate. Probably a much smaller percentage of sufficiently virtuous nonresistant nonbelievers would still constitute overwhelming witness to the undeniable truth of theism—70 % maybe? Or even a large minority, say 40 %? I won’t try to adjudicate this here, except to note that the basic point plausibly carries on quite a range.12 So the contours of the one sheep reply should now be apparent: God may allow resistant nonbelief for the sake of the longterm welfare of the resistasnt, and He may allow nonresistant nonbelief for the very same reason, namely the longterm welfare of the resistant. At least, this would be the case in a world in which the numbers of the nonresistant (or more specifically the sufficiently virtuous nonresistant) is high. If one denies this and maintains that it’s actually quite a small number, then the reply Howard-Snyder (1996, p. 450) provides above goes through, namely that for all we know God does reveal Himself to them. Naturally one sheep reply faces a variety of objections, a sampling of which I’ll now take up briefly.
Objections 1. Grant that God ought not to reveal Himself to all sufficiently virtuous nonresistant nonbelievers, as on the first horn of the dilemma. Nevertheless, God could reveal Himself to many more of them than He does, while still preserving deniability for the resistant. We’d expect that of God. Therefore He doesn’t exist. Given how common powerful religious experiences are across the population already, can we really be confident that God hasn’t already done the balancing act and we’re living with His wisely chosen results? If not, that’s sufficient for a defence. 2. As human development currently functions, sure, we can develop unfortunate dispositions even as very young children, dispositions which could interfere with acceptance of God. But that’s just extra evidence against theism, since surely God wouldn’t have set the system up that way. This argument amounts to an a priori argument against creating human beings. We are biological organisms that must undergo a long stage of development—we don’t possess immediately exercisable capacities for reason and autonomous moral reflection from the moment of conception. But that entails that during the process of development leading up to the immediate exercisability of those capacities, other capacities relevant to their proper exercise might be impacted. And in a world corrupted by various sorts of immoralities and suffering they might well be 12 In fact, in this connection it’s worth mentioning some of the actual empirical data collected by sociologists and psychologists of religion. For a summary of relevant survey data over the past 45 years see Spilka et al. (2003, pp. 299–312). A representative example: in a 1978 study Hay and Morisy sampled 1,865 people in Britain. Thirty-six percent responded affirmatively to the question ‘‘Have you ever been aware of or influenced by a presence or power, whether you call it God or not, which is different from your everyday self?’’ For further data and analysis see also Hay (1994). With respect to multiple such experiences across a single lifetime, Fenwick (1996, p. 170) writes that ‘‘although about a third of all people have had the experience, only 18 percent have had it more than twice and only 8% ‘often’ and more.’’
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impacted quite commonly and (in certain cases and in certain respects) severely. One might then argue that God should not have allowed sin and suffering, but that would amount to giving up the hiddenness game in favour of the problem of evil. That can of course be done, but most proponents of the hiddenness problem argue (persuasively) that it is distinct from the problem of evil, such that the two should not be collapsed together. On that point see for instance Schellenberg (2010b). 3. God could easily sidestep the difficulty laid out in the one sheep reply. For instance, he could just command the 90 % of the population that is nonresistant to keep their mouths shut to the 10 % resistant. How then are the 10 % to learn about God? Someone has to be there to provide testimony to God’s reality if (as is the case for the resistant) God cannot properly interpose Himself directly. It’s not as if God would abandon the 10 %—rather He would presumably seek to help them, and one obvious avenue of aid would be to work through believers. But if the believers’ testimony were 100 % rationally undeniable due to its numerically overwhelming force, we run again into the problem of the truth of theism being forced upon someone who isn’t ready for it. So perhaps God employs a different, gentler strategy, working through believers who either do not themselves have direct experiential contact with God (relying themselves on the testimony of others) or who do but form a sufficiently small minority that their testimony is such that it could still rationally be ignored or denied. 4. Even if this reply works for generic theism, it can’t help Christian theism, for on Christian soteriology anyone without explicit faith in Jesus as the Son of God is damned—it doesn’t matter whether they’re virtuous or not, for salvation is supposedly by grace through faith, i.e., belief. First, the notion that anyone lacking explicit faith in Jesus is ipso facto damned is in fact rejected by much of the Christian world. Such a view is dogmatically defined by the Roman Catholic Church as erroneous, and is likewise widely rejected by Eastern Orthodox theologians and Evangelical Protestants, etc. Second, while the present defence has taken inspiration from scriptural sources, and has made some reference to theological doctrines, it is intended to function as a defence of generic theism rather than specifically Christian theism. Third, if salvation really is by grace through faith, and faith entails the possibility of rational doubt (an understanding of faith that has had many prominent proponents in theology), God would have even better reason to refrain from revealing Himself to us in a rationally indubitable way: namely, it would render impossible our salvation.13 5. At many times in human history, the overwhelming majority of people within a certain culture believed in God. Think for instance of mediaeval Europe. On the present argument, it would seem as if that overwhelming societal testimony would 13 This third point of course demands a great deal of expansion; in particular, one might ask how it helps with the question of why God would allow non-belief in theism. After all, mightn’t there be some way He could give us all rationally indubitable belief in theism while not giving us rationally indubitable belief in Christian theism? It is after all supposed to be faith in Jesus that is salvific, not faith in generic theism. I take this up in detail in the course of formulating an alternative reply to the hiddenness problem; see my (2015).
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be forcibly prompting belief in the resistant, and thus doing them spiritual harm. But surely that’s implausible. This objection is conflating different notions of ‘testimony.’ If a person believes that God exists simply because the large majority of his/her fellows believe that, then he/she can hardly be classified as resistant. After all, in such an environment it would quickly become clear that relatively few claim to have had truly powerful, regular experiential contact with God of the sort Schellenberg claims would be required to rule out nonresistant nonbelief. (That holds true even among those who do claim some religious experiences). But that’s the sort of testimony relevant in the current context, not the much broader idea of collective testimony in the sense of the apparent fact that a belief is merely very widely held. Someone in mediaeval Europe who was bothered by the problem of evil or who found all the traditional arguments of natural theology wanting and was unmoved by scripture, could rationally have failed to believe, even while personally open to having a relationship with God. Similarly, among the resistant there remained room to reject theism. By contrast, if 80–90 % (say) of the population claimed to have directly experienced God in a way they considered beyond rational doubt, the remaining 10–20 % could plausibly be forced by the sheer weight of that experiential testimony to believe. 6. But would the weight of that testimony really force belief in the otherwise unwilling? Couldn’t the resistant still reject it (or at least most of the resistant)? I think it likely that most of the resistant would, despite their resistance, give in when faced with such testimony (to their potential harm). However, it must be granted that I have not proved this. I am not sure how it could be proved, either way, in the absence of actually running the experiment. That being the case, one might argue that God should have run the experiment, that the risks of harming the nonresistant are outweighed by the benefits of giving so many others a rationally indubitable belief in theism. However, the tenor of the one sheep reply again suggests that this is not a calculation God would be willing to make; He might be more concerned for the welfare of the resistant, and as such be unwilling to risk acting to their detriment by revealing Himself experientially to the other 80–90 % (say) of humanity. Of course, it may also be that God, knowing the human psychology of belief rather better than we do, knows better what the outcome would (or would likely) be, such that He feels no need actually to run the experiment. The prima facie possibility of that state of affairs may suffice for a defence if not for a theodicy (to employ the distinction raised earlier). 7. The theology at the root of the author’s ‘defence’ is surely far from traditional Christianity. The ‘defence’ seems to rest on a view of salvation according to which God accepts those who are most morally worthy. This is surely at variance with traditional Christian teaching that Christ’s incarnation was for the purpose of reconciling a sinful humanity to a perfect God. It appears that the author’s defence is committed to the view that the physician only darkens the door of the healthy.14 While the one sheep defence is intended to apply to generic theism rather than Christian theism specifically, clearly the force of the argument would be weakened 14
My thanks to an anonymous referee for this objection, which I reproduce here verbatim.
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were it not at least compatible with Christian theism. But I think it is compatible. This defence in fact emphasizes God’s special care and provision for the spiritually ill, for those who are at risk of rejecting Him—whether or not that risk flows from any fault of their own (though existing discussions of the issue (like Morris’ (1992)) have tended to link the origin of that risk to one or another vice). It is not an issue of God’s willingness to accept the unworthy—He is eager to reach out to them—but of the human being’s willingness to open him/herself up to God. To use the objector’s analogy, the caring physician will of course wish to help a patient in distress, even if that patient wants nothing to do with doctors. The question is how to go about helping a patient in such a condition of resistance, whether or not that patient’s resistance arises from his/her own fault. Attempting a direct house call might not be the most prudent method of medical intervention. Indeed, such a direct attempt might only harden a reluctant patient’s resistance. Instead the physician might employ more indirect methods of intervention, perhaps sending in a nurse or assistant as an initial point of contact, in order to accustom the patient gradually to the idea of seeing a doctor. I do not wish to give the impression that God (whether on generic or Christian theism) cannot reach out to those who are resistant to a relationship with Him— quite the opposite in fact. Rather, the suggestion is that God adjusts His strategy of engagement in accordance with the preparedness of those He is dealing with. And He is so concerned for the welfare of the especially ill-prepared that He is even willing to delay direct engagement with those who are prepared. The suggestion is that it is precisely His concern for the resistant that may explain His lack of open engagement with the non-resistant: He is more worried about the one lost sheep (or one especially sick patient) than the remaining ninety-nine.
Conclusion As noted in the introduction, my inclination is to think that no single response to the problem of divine hiddenness is likely to be wholly convincing by itself. As with the problem of evil, the difficulty is best addressed by a set of compatible replies. The one sheep reply is compatible with many existing defences and could play a constructive role as part of such a wider cumulative case. However, detailing the contours of this is a larger task best left for another time. Acknowledgments I would like to express my sincere thanks to an anonymous referee for the IJPR for his/her helpful comments. Additionally, this research was undertaken thank in part to funding from the Canada Research Chairs program, for which I am grateful to the government and taxpayers of Canada.
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