Michael Murray

Over the last two decades, scientific accounts of religion have received a great deal of scholarly and popular attention both because of their intrinsic interest and because they are widely as constituting a threat to the religion they analyse. The Believing Primate aims to describe and discuss these scientific accounts as well as to assess their implications. The volume begins with essays by leading scientists in the field, describing these accounts and discussing evidence in their favour. Philosophical and theological reflections on these accounts follow, offered by leading philosophers, theologians, and scientists. This diverse group of scholars address some fascinating underlying questions: Do scientific accounts of religion undermine the justification of religious belief? Do such accounts show religion to be an accidental by-product of our evolutionary development? And, whilst we seem naturally disposed toward religion, would we fare better or worse without it? Bringing together dissenting perspectives, this provocative collection will serve to freshly illuminate ongoing debate on these perennial questions

In this paper I claim that there are three primary dimensions to the issue of freedom in Leibniz’s work. The first, and most widely discussed, is the logical dimension. When discussing this dimension, Leibniz is concerned primarily about the relationship between freedom and modality: what does it mean for choice to be contingent? The second dimension is the theological one. When discussing this dimension, Leibniz is interested in considering such issues as the relationships between divine knowledge or providence and human freedom, the nature of freedom in God, the angels, the demons, the blessed, the damned, etc., the relationship between human freedom and divine grace, and like matters. The third dimension treats freedom from the perspective of faculty psychology. In this mode, Leibniz considers how the intellect, will, and passions are related to one another in complete human acts. Questions such as: What is deliberation? What is choice? What is weakness of will?, etc. define this third dimension of the freedom discussion. In a forthcoming paper, an abstract of which appeared in the 1992 issue of this Review, I discuss the second dimension in some detail. In this paper, I take up the third.

In the introduction to Substance and Individuation in Leibniz, Jan Cover and John Hawthorne inform us that the aim of the book is to “grasp more clearly the metaphysical problems of individuation by taking seriously how these are played out in the hands of one influential philosopher standing as the important mediary between scholastic and modern philosophers.” Were the book to succeed in this modest aim it would be a significant achievement. In fact, it achieves this aim and a good deal more. One can fairly say that the book is nothing short of a philosophical tour de force of most major metaphysical themes in Leibniz.

In recent years historians of modern philosophy have begun to pay much more attention to the theological thought of both major and minor figures in the period. These theological views are interesting and important in their own right, but they also provide substantial insights into the interconnections between, and the motivations for, many philosophical positions these figures advocate. This volume continues this recent tradition by providing an engaging look at the ways in which key figures in the modern period addressed facets of the problem of evil. The nine essays included in this volume, originally presented at a conference at the University of Toronto in 1999, cover a range of figures and topics, though British figures are somewhat surprisingly excluded altogether.

The mature Leibniz frequently uses the phrase “moral necessity” in the context of discussing free choice. In this essay I provide a seventeenth century geneology of the phrase. I show that the doctrine of moral necessity was developed by scholastic philosophers who sought to retain a robust notion of freedom while purging bruteness from their systems. Two sorts of bruteness were special targets. The first is metaphysical bruteness, according to which contingent events or states of affairs occur without a sufficient explanation. The second is semantic bruteness according to which a proposition can be true without a truth maker. Denying eithersort of bruteness was thought by some to raise problems for freedom. Defenders of moral necessity thought the notion solved these problems without having to invoke bruteness.

Between 1701 and 1705 Leibniz focused on the task of securing theological reunion between Lutherans and Calvinists, the two major Protestant sects at the time. Doing so, he believed, required reconciliation on two key topics, namely, the doctrine of the Eucharist, and the doctrine of election. To bring unity on the second issue, Leibniz composed a lengthy treatise based on a commentary on the Thirty-nine articles of the Church of England. This treatise stakes out a position springing from Leibniz’s own views. In this essay, I examine the views Leibniz defends in this treatise. I show that Leibniz’s views are much friendlier to the Arminian perspective than to the Calvinist one. I also show that this result is surprising since Arminian views seem incompatible with views on freedom and the problem of evil standardly attributed to Leibniz. This lack of fit should compel a re-examination of these standard attributions.

Consider the following situation. It is the first day of school, and the new third-grade students file into the classroom to be shown to their seats for the coming year. As they enter, the third-grade teacher notices one small boy who is particularly unkempt. He looks to be in desperate need of bathing, and his clothes are dirty, torn and tight-fitting. During recess, the teacher pulls aside the boy's previous teacher and asks about his wretched condition. The other teacher informs her that he always looks that way, even though the boy's family is quite wealthy. The reason he appears as he does, she continues, is that the family observes an odd practice according to which the children do not receive many important things – food, clothing, bathing, even shelter – unless they specifically request them. Since the boy, like many third-graders, has little interest in bathing and clean clothes, he just never asks for them

From Leibniz's time until the mid-1970s, the word ‘theodicy’ was used to describe attempts to explain God's permission of evil. Since the mid-1970s, however, it has taken on a more refined sense among philosophers of religion – a change that can be attributed to Alvin Plantinga's book God, Freedom and Evil. In this work, Plantinga distinguishes between two types of explanations of evil that theists might construct. The first type is offered in response to arguments that the coexistence of God and evil is impossible. Explanations of this sort, which Plantinga calls ‘defences’, need only show the logical compatibility of God and evil. The second type aims to provide plausible and perhaps even likely-to-be-true explanations of evil, explanations which show that the existence of evil is not unlikely given the existence of God. Plantinga labelled explanations of this latter sort ‘theodicies’. His distinction has left a lasting mark on the field, and in the contemporary literature philosophers of religion use the term ‘theodicy’ in this narrower sense, and it is in this sense that it will be addressed in this article. The article discusses the punishment theodicy, the natural consequence theodicy, the free-will theodicy, the natural-law theodicy, soul-making theodicies, and theodicies of animal suffering.

Despite Russell’s protestations to the contrary, it has become evident that Leibniz had more than a passing interest in a number of the problems plaguing seventeenth century philosophical theology. In published work, correspondence, and private notes, Leibniz spends significant energy sorting through numerous solutions to the standard problems. Not least among these was the perennial problem of how to reconcile divine foreknowledge and providence and human freedom. In this essay I discuss how Leibniz understands this problem against the background of the scholastic tradition up to his own day, how he rejects these solutions, and how he constructs an alternative which he believes will be acceptable to the various scholastic partisans while resolving the difficulties with each alternative. I then discuss the lessons that can be learned about Leibniz’s own view of freedom in light of what he says about these matters.

In recent years historians of modern philosophy have begun to pay much more attention to the theological thought of both major and minor figures in the period. These theological views are interesting and important in their own right, but they also provide substantial insights into the interconnections between, and the motivations for, many philosophical positions these figures advocate. This volume continues this recent tradition by providing an engaging look at the ways in which key figures in the modern period addressed facets of the problem of evil. The nine essays included in this volume, originally presented at a conference at the University of Toronto in 1999, cover a range of figures and topics, though British figures are somewhat surprisingly excluded altogether.

Many of the doctrines central to Christianity have important philosophical implications or presuppositions. In this article, we begin with a brief general discussion of the relationship between philosophy and Christian dogma, and then we turn our attention to three of the most philosophically challenging Christian doctrines: the trinity, the incarnation, and the atonement. We take these three as our focus because, unlike (for example) doctrines about providence or the attributes of God, these are distinctive to Christian theology and, unlike (for example) the doctrine of original sin or the Real Presence of Christ in the eucharist, these have been the subject of a great deal of discussion over the past couple of decades.