On mysteries:
People so often link religion and mystery. If that’s a necessary connection, and the latter are only temporary, then religion can only be temporary too. Very cool. (I find that extremely interesting for some reason).

I should write a blog post about that, especially since I think the experiences of beauty and mystery are integrally linked.

Hmmmm . . .

I should add that it is perfectly okay to believe in mysteries, in the sense that we don’t yet know what the resolution is, but I refuse to accept mysteries that have no possible resolution. I have yet to see an example of such a thing, for which there was not already a resolution on offer. For example, I don’t know how to solve the mind/body problem, an apparent contradiction arising from a small number of extremely plausible premises. I do know that a resolution is possible — one of the premises is false, though I don’t know which one.

I’d say it may not necessarily be an evil act to not stop an evil act that one could stop (seems to me this is one of the premises of the conservative view of government, for instance), not that it isn’t evil period. That’s the closest I’ll let myself get to a theodicy. But that’s a separate point from my “theodicies are senseless” argument.

I didn’t see my argument as “solving the logical contradiction of the Problem of Evil,” but I suppose that’s what it does. I think it’s more accurate to say that it shows the mistake of claiming there’s a logical contradiction. And that’s not just a linguistic point. Changing the way you put it changes which position is presented as being primary, and which as playing defense.

I do not equate all problems, confusions, or conflicts with logical contradictions, however. So while I deny that the Problem of Evil is a logical contradiction (that there is a simultaneous affirmation and denial of the same attribute of the same subject), I do not deny that it is a problem (as opposed to theodicies, which deny that there is a problem even if they don’t deny that there is evil).

I’m teaching “On Free Choice of the Will” (by St. Augustine) to one of my classes right now. He sounds very Buddhistic in this (early) text, and traces all evil to the free choice of the human will (it is being attached to the wrong things that leads to suffering/that is evil). He then justifies God having given human beings a free will by proving (to his satisfaction) that free will is a good thing. If it’s good, God should give it, he thinks.

Ultimately, Augustine claims that evil is non-existence, that it is a form of nothingness. Which is like one of the approaches you mentioned above.

There are two kinds of “mystery”:
There are mysteries that are such, even though we can’t see why they must be so. (This is the, “That is not for you to know” or “This knowledge is forbidden you,” kind of mysteries. Like when a writer makes what is about to happen in a story mysterious simply by hiding certain facts from the audience, even though the characters from whose point of view the audience is supposed to be seeing the story know those facts. Like in Ocean’s 12. Annoys me so much.)
Then there are mysteries that are mysterious, and we know exactly why they must be so.

To accept the first kind of mystery is to give up intellectual exploration because of a contingency, to submit blindly to authority (”He refuses to tell us, and I don’t feel like pushing it any more”). To accept the second kind, however, requires one to have so thoroughly explored the issue that one comes to understand (logically) why the issue must be mysterious. This is an intellectual achievement, a discovery.

The idea that there is a logical paradox at the heart of reality is deeply irrational (and literally inconceivable).

Are we equating logical paradoxes and logical contradictions? If so, then I know what the former means, and agree with you. If not, I don’t know what the former means, and would like to find out.

I was reading this book on paradoxes, you see, and evidently there’s some debate about exactly what the definition of “paradox” is. I, honestly, couldn’t follow either the debate as presented by the author or the author’s own argument for his own definition.

By the way, I refer to your view as a theodicy because I believe any attempt (even one like yours) is a theodicy so long as it purports to solve the logical contradiction of the Problem of Evil. It is not clear to me that you are simply refusing to resolve it, since you do not grant the logical contradiction. Refusing to resolve it does have a long history in theology, though. I’m reasonably sure this was the tactic taken by St. Paul and St. Augustine. The Problem of Evil was a “mystery” which they didn’t really bother to resolve. Personally, I prefer the attempts of St. Thomas Aquinas and C.S. Lewis to that. The idea that there is a logical paradox at the heart of reality is deeply irrational (and literally inconceivable).

Sounds right to me, except the part where your comment seems to say that by not doing something we make something happen. It would seem to be by not doing something we don’t make the situation better. Having the chance to make something better is more appealing to me than being threatened with making something worse, even if the act it leads me to is the same.

Andrew–

I don’t think the issue is semantic when it comes to whether there is or isn’t evil. The fact that something has a good consequence doesn’t make it good, does it? The Christians I resonate most with are attempting to justify God’s not interfering with the evil, not to explain away the evil as not being really evil.

It seems to me you’re seeing something here that I’m not, though, and since I don’t see myself as being one of the Christians who takes this approach, I guess the issue doesn’t really matter that much to me. :-)

I find it interesting that my approach could be referred to as a theodicy, when I see it as almost the opposite: I take myself as claiming theodicies are impossible. *grin*

God’s creating a world without good doesn’t seem like a problem. It could be morally neutral. Which is fine.

As to whether God can do anything: an action’s goodness and badness do not depend entirely (or even primarily) on the motivation that leads to them (unless you’re Kant, in which case they do. But Kant is wrong. *chuckle*).

God can’t do anything evil if God is good. And I think God is good. God’s goodness is a description of God’s nature, not God’s motivations. God does good. That’s just what God does.

If I’ve said anything to contradict that, then I should be more careful (oh the wonders of exploring the logical consequences of one’s own thought! I appreciate your help). :-D

Your own theodicy (such as it is) I’m not sure I can refute. However, you’re surely aware that what it amounts to is saying that God can do absolutely anything (including creating a world where there is no good at all) and retain his goodness since God is timeless and therefore can’t possibly have any motivations whatsoever (either good or evil). Personally, I believe this boils down to tactic 4. God is not all-good.

What’s the secret to generating these debates? This is really interesting stuff.