theology

To what extent can God’s existence be proven through Natural Theology? [40]

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Natural theology is the discipline that seeks to understand and demonstrate God’s existence through reason and observation of the natural world, independent of divine revelation or scripture. It assumes that human reason, examining nature, morality, and the cosmos, can access truths about God. Two contrasting views on the efficacy of natural theology come from Thomas Aquinas, who famously argued that God’s existence can be proven through rational arguments, and Karl Barth, who strongly rejected natural theology, emphasizing the necessity of God’s self-revelation in Christ. Other theologians such as Emil Brunner and John Calvin offer nuanced positions, acknowledging natural theology’s role but highlighting its limitations. While Aquinas’ classical arguments and the contributions of Calvin and Brunner demonstrate the rational grounds for belief, critiques from Barth and challenges concerning human reason’s limits temper its conclusiveness. Ultimately, natural theology offers reasonable but incomplete proof of God’s existence, requiring the complement of revelation.

Firstly, St. Thomas Aquinas’ Five Ways remain the cornerstone of classical natural theology. His cosmological arguments—especially the argument from causation and contingency—posit that the observable existence of contingent beings demands a necessary, uncaused first cause: God. The teleological argument observes order and purpose in nature, inferring an intelligent designer. William Lane Craig defends Aquinas’ arguments as logically sound and philosophically robust, asserting that an infinite regress of causes is impossible, thereby securing God’s existence as a necessary truth. Aquinas’ arguments are grounded in Aristotelian metaphysics, making them intuitively persuasive. Yet Aquinas’ confidence in Natural Theology as a means of knowing God’s existence is problematic given the doctrine of salvation by grace alone and theological exclusivism.  This explains why John Calvin developed a more nuanced position, acknowledging that we can know God’s bare existence through our natural sensus divinitatis — an innate sense or awareness of God implanted in humans – but that we must rely on revelation for such knowledge of God that would be helpful in saving us because Original Sin, inherited from Adam because of the Fall, has obscured our reason and rendered complete knowledge of God through reason and observations impossible. Thus, for Calvin, natural theology does provide some knowledge of God, but this is flawed and incomplete. Natural Theology cannot lead to full saving knowledge without revelation. This nuanced position strengthens the claim that natural theology can prove God’s existence to a reasonable extent but within clear limits, making it compatible with the central Christian doctrines of salvation by grace and theological exclusivism.

Secondly, Emil Brunner agreed with Calvin’s assessment of Natural Theology. In his essay “The Natural Knowledge of God,” Brunner argued that God has placed within creation a point of contact for humans to know Him through nature and conscience, while acknowledging that while this natural knowledge is insufficient for salvation. Of course, Karl Barth forcefully rejected Brunner’s argument in his famous essay entitled “Nein” and later in his “Church Dogmatics”, seeing natural theology as a threat to the Church in allowing secular reasoning to override tradition and scripture.  Yet, Brunner critiqued Barth’s blanket rejection, noting that human experience of moral obligation and the intelligibility of the universe point beyond themselves to a divine source. Brunner’s view aligns with C.S. Lewis’s moral argument, which claims that objective moral values presuppose a moral lawgiver. Philosophers like Richard Swinburne extend this by using probabilistic reasoning to argue that the best explanation for the order and complexity of the universe is the existence of a purposeful God. Swinburne’s cumulative case approach draws on empirical evidence from physics, biology, and human consciousness, strengthening natural theology’s evidential base. Thus, Brunner’s qualified affirmation of Natural Theology, combined with contemporary philosophical supports, builds on Calvin’s position, is compatible with central Christian doctrines and shows that natural theology can provide reasonable and significant proof of God’s existence, if not saving knowledge of God’s nature or will.

On the other hand, Karl Barth famously rejected natural theology as a reliable or legitimate route to knowledge of God. In his Church Dogmatics, Barth emphasizes God’s transcendence and the radical otherness of divine revelation in Jesus Christ. For Barth, human reason is fallen and incapable of arriving at true knowledge of God unaided. Natural theology risks producing a “natural religion” that domesticates or distorts God by trying to know Him on human terms. Barth’s critique is grounded in the historical context of theological liberalism, where natural theology was often used to undermine the authority of scripture, as well as in the political context of the Reich’s Church trying to use reason to excise the Old Testament (Jewish Scriptures) from the Bible altogether. Barth insisted that God must reveal Himself directly; apart from this revelation God’s existence cannot be proven or even meaningfully affirmed. Scholars sympathetic to Barth point to the limitations of reason exposed by religious pluralism, the problem of evil, and the diverse, often conflicting, natural theological arguments. They argue these show that natural theology fails to deliver conclusive proof.  Yet despite Barth’s important warnings, which were after all pre-empted by Calvin, his rejection does not fully negate the role of natural theology. Rather, it serves to highlight its limits. As Alvin Plantinga argues in his Warranted Christian Belief, natural theology can provide rational grounds for belief that are properly basic — foundational but open to further confirmation by revelation. Natural theology’s arguments, such as Aquinas’ cosmological proofs or the moral arguments of CS Lewis and Richard Swinburne, provide logical coherence to theism and are compelling to many. Moreover, natural theology allows dialogue with non-Christians and non-believers, offering a shared rational basis before revelation is introduced.  John Calvin would agree that natural theology awakens knowledge of God in all people (sensus divinitatis), while Brunner’s view encourages seeing natural knowledge as a “point of contact” that leads to revelation. In this sense, natural theology and revealed theology are complementary: natural theology provides reasonable evidence of God’s existence, but revelation is necessary for full and saving knowledge. Therefore, natural theology proves God’s existence to a significant extent — enough to justify belief rationally — but does not replace faith or revelation. This integrated approach balances rational inquiry and theological humility.

In conclusion, natural theology can prove God’s existence to a considerable extent by employing rational arguments based on the cosmos, causation, morality, and order. Aquinas’ Five Ways, Calvin’s sensus divinitatis, and Brunner’s qualified affirmation all demonstrate natural theology’s capacity to provide reasonable, though partial, evidence of God’s existence. While Barth’s critique rightly emphasizes the limits of reason and the necessity of revelation, it does not entirely dismiss natural theology’s rational value. Hence, natural theology should be seen as a valuable but incomplete proof of God’s existence — a foundation that invites further engagement through faith and divine revelation.

Critically assess Liberation Theology’s engagement with social issues. [40]

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Liberation Theology is a Christian movement that began in Latin America in the 1960s and 1970s. It focuses on the belief that God has a special concern for the poor and oppressed and that Christians should give the poor a “preferential option”, focusing their resources and efforts to work to create equity and change unjust social structures. This is because, influenced by Marxist analysis, Liberation Theologians believe that capitalist social structures create structural sin; by creating gross and growing inequality they oppress and trap poor people into a cycle of crime and immorality, taking away their moral agency and leaving them spiritually alienated. Liberation theologians argue that Christian faith should lead to practical action against poverty, violence and inequality and also the causes of these in Capitalism itself. They encourage Christians to live in solidarity with the poor, working practically to relieve the effects of poverty and deprivation, and then to read the Bible with a hermeneutic of suspicion “from the perspective of the poor”. From this perspective they believe that Jesus was a political liberator who offers people a practical political salvation through freedom from social injustice, more than a heavenly salvation. This essay will argue that Liberation Theology has been successful in engaging with social issues, and that it has been more effective than both the mainstream Catholic Church, which often failed to act decisively, and Marxism, which focused on class struggle but ignored faith and human dignity.

One way Liberation Theology has successfully engaged with social issues is by placing the experiences of the poor at the centre of theology and Christian action. Gustavo Gutiérrez, often seen as the founder of Liberation Theology, argued that theology must begin with real human suffering. He famously described liberation as “a movement from unjust conditions to a more humane life.” This means that Christians should not just talk about God but should challenge the social systems that keep people poor. In practice, this led many Christians to work in poor communities, helping them organise and speak out. This was more effective than the mainstream Catholic Church, which had often focused on charity rather than justice, offering short-term help and encouraging dependency on outside aid instead of challenging the causes of poverty and crime in South America. Catholic charity often seemed patronising to poor people, who were reluctant to take it as a result. It was also limited to the “deserving poor”, ignoring the fact that poverty was the root cause of the crime and immorality that excluded many from being candidates for help. Liberation Theology also tackled social issues more effectively than pure Marxism, which identified capitalism as the cause of economic injustice, but reduced people to economic classes, rejected religion as harmful and fomented violent revolution as the only solution. Liberation theologians lived in solidarity with the poor and worked with them to achieve lasting social change.  This was welcomed enthusiastically by many communities and made a real difference in some areas.  Liberation Theolody used some Marxist ideas but rejected violence and atheism, keeping human dignity and faith at the centre. This shows Liberation Theology’s strength in engaging social issues in a balanced and effective way, supporting the thesis that it achieved more than either the Church or Marxism alone.

A further reason for the success of Liberation Theology is through the creation of Ecclesiastical Base Communities (EBCs), which put its ideas into action at a local level. Leonardo Boff argued that the Church should be “the Church of the poor,” not a distant institution. EBCs were small groups of Christians who met to read the Bible, discuss their problems and take action together in favelas and slums such as Forteleza, Brasil. These communities empowered ordinary people, especially the poor, to become leaders and challenge injustice in peaceful ways. For example, EBCs provided education and practical training which helped communities resist exploitation, reduce crime through cooperation, and gave people the strength to demand fair treatment from employers and governments. This was something the mainstream Church often failed to do, as it was closely linked with political elites and slow to criticise corrupt governments. Marxist movements, on the other hand, often led to violence or authoritarian regimes, which replaced one form of oppression with another. By contrast, Liberation Theology inspired long-term social awareness and community action rooted in Christian values. This practical success supports the view that Liberation Theology engaged more effectively with social issues than its alternatives.

However, some critics argue that Liberation Theology ultimately failed. Alastair Kee claimed that this was because it did not take its influence from Marxist analysis far enough and failed to criticise the Catholic Church head on or to persuade the institution to fully support structural change. As a result, Liberation Theology remained limited and could not achieve lasting reform, other than in a few isolated pockets. While Kee blames Liberation Theologians like Guttierrez for reading Marx selectively and not embracing his full message, part of the failure of Liberation Theology – if such it was – was down to the Papacy, especially under Pope John Paul II and Cardinal Ratzinger.  While Liberation Theology was inspired by documents emanating from the Second Vatican Council and sustained by the encyclicals of Paul VI such as Populorum Progressio – which used the same Marxist language as Guttierrez did – it is clear that Pope John Paul II was cut from a different cloth. With his background in Poland and direct experience of the USSR, he was fundamentally opposed to Marxism and desirous of removing all of its influence from Church teaching. Further, he was under political pressure from Washington to quash Liberation Theology because it was giving the impression that the Church was on the side of Marxist rebels and revolutionaries and opposed to the US backed military juntas, which was weakening US influence in South America and encouraging more violence.  Pope John Paul II and Cardinal Ratzinger (later Pope Benedict XVI) argued that Liberation Theology was too political, being naïve and selective in its understanding and use of Marxism.  Further they argued that Liberation Theology was based on faulty theology, which was actively misleading people and threatened to exclude them from salvation. However, both criticisms can be challenged. Kee’s critique of Liberation Theology is unrealistic about what the movement could have achieved against the backdrop of changing Papal and global politics.  Further, the Church’s critique was influenced by politics as much as by theology and seemed to ignore the progress that Liberation Theology had made against the aims agreed on at Vatican II.  Liberation Theology had inspired local people, Priests and lay-people, to take responsibility for the mission of the Church. It had also raised awareness of injustice and empowered the poor.  It is also worth pointing out that Liberation Theology, despite its “failure” has been a strong influenced on more recent Church teaching, such as through Pope Francis’ encyclicals. Compared to the limited impact of the mainstream Church and the failures of Marxism to create fair societies, Liberation Theology achieved more positive change, even while facing strong resistance from both sides.

In conclusion, Liberation Theology has been highly effective in engaging with social issues, particularly poverty, oppression and crime in Latin America. By focusing on the poor, encouraging community action and combining faith with social justice, it achieved more than the mainstream Catholic Church, which often avoided structural change, and Marxism, which ignored religion and human dignity. The best reason for its success is its ability to turn belief into action through movements like Ecclesiastical Base Communities. Although criticised by figures such as Alastair Kee and the Papacy, Liberation Theology’s achievements remain significant. Therefore, Christians today should continue to learn from Liberation Theology and actively challenge injustice, showing that faith is not just about belief but about transforming society for the better.

“A loving God would not elect a limited number of people to salvation.” Discuss [40]

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The question of whether a loving God would elect only a limited number of people to salvation strikes at the heart of Christian theology. On one side of the debate, limited election—as articulated by thinkers such as John Calvin—suggests that God, in his sovereign will, has chosen a predetermined group for salvation, a view supported by some interpretations of the Book of Revelation, which often appears to depict a final judgment that divides humanity. On the other hand, universalism, inspired by verses such as John 3:16—“God so loved the world that he gave his only Son”—asserts that God’s love is inclusive and salvific for all people. This inclusivist view resonates with more liberal theological perspectives, such as those of Friedrich Schleiermacher and John Hick, who emphasize God’s benevolence and the universality of divine grace. In the end, a loving God would not elect only a limited number of people to salvation, because such a notion conflicts with the essence of divine love as revealed in Scripture, the moral intuitions of justice and fairness, and the broader trajectory of Christian theology, particularly in modern thought.

A key problem with the doctrine of limited election is that it fundamentally undermines the character of God as loving and just. Calvin, the foremost proponent of double predestination, argued that God elects some to salvation and others to damnation entirely apart from human merit (Institutes of the Christian Religion, III.21). This theological determinism presents God as arbitrary and raises severe moral questions. If God is love, as 1 John 4:8 declares, it becomes difficult to reconcile that love with a predetermined exclusion of some individuals from the possibility of grace. Moreover, the notion that God’s glory is somehow enhanced by the damnation of sinners (as Calvin sometimes implies) seems not only morally objectionable but also inconsistent with the overall tone of Christ’s ministry. Jesus repeatedly reaches out to sinners, the marginalized, and the lost—most notably in the parables of the lost sheep and the prodigal son (Luke 15). These stories suggest a divine desire to include, not exclude. Even Martin Luther, while accepting predestination, emphasized God’s mercy in Christ and acknowledged the mystery of divine justice, indicating discomfort with the idea that God’s will could be reduced to a cold calculus of salvation and damnation.

Further, universalist theologians like Friedrich Schleiermacher and John Hick offer compelling alternatives that better reflect both divine love and justice. Schleiermacher maintained that divine grace is irresistible and eventually leads all rational creatures to salvation, not because of human merit, but because God’s redemptive purpose must ultimately succeed. Similarly, John Hick’s pluralistic universalism proposed that all religions are culturally-conditioned responses to the Real (Ultimate Reality) and that salvation is available to all sincere seekers, regardless of their tradition. This view, while controversial, emphasizes the universality of God’s salvific will. Such thinking aligns with the inclusive tone of verses like 1 Timothy 2:4, which states that God “wants all people to be saved and to come to a knowledge of the truth.” Furthermore, the Johannine emphasis on God’s love for “the world” in John 3:16 underlines the universal scope of divine concern. In this framework, God’s love is not restricted to the elect but is extended to all humanity, affirming the moral intuition that a just and loving God would not arbitrarily exclude anyone from salvation.

On the other hand defenders of limited election might argue that God’s sovereignty necessitates selective grace, as suggested by Paul in Romans 9: “Jacob I loved, but Esau I hated.” They claim that God’s will is ultimately inscrutable and that divine justice cannot be measured by human standards. Calvin insisted that this doctrine humbles human pride and glorifies God’s sovereignty. Yet such a claim is ultimately problematic, both scripturally and theologically. Arminius, a critic of Calvinism, countered this deterministic view by emphasizing conditional election based on God’s foreknowledge of human faith. He held that God’s grace enables human free will, allowing people to accept or reject salvation. This position retains divine sovereignty while also preserving moral responsibility and the notion of divine justice. Furthermore, Karl Barth, while deeply respectful of Calvin, reframed election in a Christocentric way: Jesus Christ is both the electing God and the elected man, meaning that in Christ, all humanity is chosen. Barth did not endorse universalism outright, but his theology implies a universal scope of election in Christ, pointing toward the idea that salvation is at least potentially available to all.

In sum, a loving God would not elect only a limited number of people to salvation because such a doctrine is incompatible with the biblical witness to God’s inclusive love, the moral demand for justice, and the theological trajectory of modern Christian thought. The idea of a limited elect distorts the image of God into one who arbitrarily condemns much of humanity, rather than one who seeks the lost and offers grace universally. The best reason to reject limited election is that it contradicts the character of God revealed in Jesus Christ, whose ministry consistently emphasized mercy, inclusion, and hope for all people. Therefore, Christians and theologians alike must critically reassess traditional doctrines of election considering God’s love, and advocate for a view of salvation that truly reflects the universality of divine grace.

Critically evaluate the claim that Liberation Theology engaged too much with Marxism. [40]

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Liberation Theology emerged in Latin America in the late twentieth century as a movement seeking to interpret Christian faith from within the lived experiences of the oppressed, insisting that theology must arise from concrete historical circumstances. Gustavo Gutiérrez, often described as the movement’s founding figure, argued that all theology is rooted in praxis—the reflective action of Christian communities responding to injustice; therefore, theological concepts must be shaped by the social and economic conditions in which believers live. Some liberation theologians drew upon Marxist categories such as class struggle, ideology critique, and the analysis of capitalist structures, not as a wholesale adoption of Marxism but as tools for diagnosing systemic injustice. The accusation that Liberation Theology engaged “too much” with Marxism became prominent in the late 1970s and 1980s, especially in Pope John Paul II’s address at Puebla (1979) and in the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith’s Instruction on Certain Aspects of Liberation Theology (1984). These documents expressed concern that Marxist analysis might distort Christian doctrine. This essay argues, however, that Liberation Theology did not engage too much with Marxism; if anything, it engaged with Marxism critically and selectively, sometimes even too cautiously, as scholars like Alastair Kee have argued.

One argument supporting this thesis is that Liberation Theology’s engagement with Marxism is consistent with the broader trajectory of Catholic social teaching in the twentieth century. While Rerum Novarum (1891) laid early foundations for recognising structural injustice, it was Vatican II’s Gaudium et Spes (1965) that adopted a more sociologically sophisticated approach to analysing “the signs of the times,” including structural sin, alienation, and economic inequality—concepts that resonated with Marxist social critique even if not explicitly derived from Marx. Populorum Progressio (Paul VI, 1967) further acknowledged “institutionalised violence” and the moral necessity of transforming oppressive structures, again using language that parallels Marxist analysis of exploitation. The 1968 Medellín documents of the Latin American Episcopal Conference (CELAM) went even further, explicitly adopting the term “institutionalised injustice” and approving the use of social sciences to understand inequality—an implicit endorsement of Marxist-influenced tools. Against this background, Liberation Theology’s use of Marxism is not an eccentric deviation but a natural development within a Church increasingly aware of structural sin and committed to social transformation. Gutiérrez and Boff therefore situate Marxist analysis within a wider Catholic shift towards contextual theology rooted in real human experience. Their engagement with Marxism is not excessive but proportionate to the analytical needs recognised across the Church.

A second reason for rejecting the claim that Liberation Theology engaged too much with Marxism relates to Gutiérrez’s insistence on praxis as the starting point for theology. Gutiérrez argued that theology is always “a second act”: the first act is the lived struggle for justice, and theological reflection arises out of this concrete engagement. Marxist social analysis thus functions within Liberation Theology as one tool among many for understanding the realities in which Christian praxis occurs. Leonardo Boff likewise affirmed that Marxism offers a valuable “seeing” dimension of the pastoral cycle, enabling Christians to understand how economic structures perpetuate poverty. Yet both theologians insist that Marxism is subordinated to the Gospel and used critically rather than dogmatically. The 1984 Instruction warned that concepts such as class struggle could smuggle materialist and deterministic assumptions into theology; however, liberation theologians explicitly rejected these elements. Gutiérrez affirmed spiritual liberation in Christ, and Boff defended the Church’s sacramental and eschatological tradition. Their use of Marxist tools, therefore, is instrumental, limited, and disciplined by theological criteria. Rather than indicating excessive dependence on Marxism, this selective appropriation suggests a careful, balanced approach that enhances the Church’s capacity to respond to oppression without compromising doctrine.

A further strand of support for the thesis comes from Alastair Kee, who famously argued not that Liberation Theology embraced Marxism too much, but rather that it did so too cautiously and too selectively. Kee contended that Liberation Theology adopted Marxism primarily as a tool for analysing poverty without following through on the deeper philosophical critique that Marxism could offer. In Kee’s view, liberation theologians were so anxious to avoid conflict with the Church’s magisterium that they retained aspects of traditional theological categories that limited the transformative potential of Marxist critique. For example, while they used Marxist analysis of class conflict, they often reintroduced classical notions of sin, grace, and personal conversion without integrating these fully with their socio-economic insights. Kee argued that this created an unresolved tension: Liberation Theology wanted Marxist realism about structures but remained reluctant to embrace the more radical implications of Marx’s critique of religion. The Vatican’s fear that Liberation Theology had “absorbed too much” of Marxism therefore overlooks the fact that its engagement was actually quite restrained. Kee’s perspective strengthens the argument that Liberation Theology did not go too far; if anything, its methodological caution demonstrates that it maintained a clear distance between Marxist analysis and Christian revelation.

The primary counterclaim is that any engagement with Marxism is inherently incompatible with Christian theology, because Marxism is grounded in atheism, materialism, and the primacy of class struggle. According to this view—articulated strongly in the 1984 Instruction and echoed by Pope John Paul II at Puebla—even selective use of Marxist tools risks reducing salvation to a merely political project and encouraging revolutionary violence. Critics such as Hans Urs von Balthasar argued that Marxism’s anthropology is fundamentally reductionist, denying human spiritual transcendence. While these concerns highlight genuine dangers, they often conflate methodological use with ideological adoption. Liberation theologians explicitly rejected Marxist atheism and materialism; Gutiérrez spoke of liberation as simultaneously socio-economic, personal, and spiritual, rooted in God’s gratuitous love. Boff emphasised the Church’s eschatological hope and rejected any attempt to collapse the Kingdom of God into historical progress. Moreover, the claim that Marxist influence leads inevitably to violence misrepresents the movement: figures like Oscar Romero, after embracing liberationist analysis, became even more committed to nonviolent resistance. When properly understood, Liberation Theology’s engagement with Marxism is neither doctrinally compromising nor politically extremist; it is a disciplined use of social-scientific tools to further the Church’s mission of justice.

In conclusion, the claim that Liberation Theology engaged too much with Marxism cannot be sustained. The movement’s selective and critical use of Marxist analysis is consistent with the broader direction of twentieth-century Catholic social teaching, which increasingly recognised structural injustice and encouraged engagement with social sciences. Gutiérrez’s emphasis on praxis shows that Marxist tools are employed only insofar as they help illuminate the lived experiences of the oppressed, and theologians like Boff maintain clear theological boundaries that prevent ideological distortion. If anything, as Alastair Kee argues, the movement engaged with Marxism too cautiously, not too enthusiastically. The strongest reason for rejecting the claim is that Liberation Theology remains theologically grounded, Christocentric, and ecclesial in its aims, using Marxist insights only as instruments for pursuing justice. Moving forward, scholars and students should continue to evaluate Liberation Theology with nuance and attentiveness to both its context and its theological integrity, ensuring that discussions of Marxist influence are historically informed rather than ideologically assumed.

“Knowledge of God only comes through Jesus Christ” Critically evaluate this claim. [40]

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“Knowledge of God only comes through Jesus Christ” is a claim strongly associated with twentieth-century neo-orthodox theology. It rejects the idea that human beings can discover God independently through reason or nature (natural theology) and instead insists that God is known only where God chooses to reveal himself (revealed theology), but also rejects the more common Protestant claim that knowledge of God can be derived from Scripture in itself, arguing instead that knowledge of God comes only through Jesus Christ, to whom Scripture is a witness. Scholars such as Karl Barth and Dietrich Bonhoeffer strongly support the claim because they argue that sinful humanity cannot reach God through its own intellectual efforts. Instead, revelation in Christ is the sole reliable source of divine knowledge. Although some theologians defend natural theology and religious experience as genuine paths to God, this essay will argue that knowledge of God ultimately comes only through Jesus Christ because human reason is too limited and corrupted to attain true understanding independently of divine revelation.

Firstly, knowledge of God comes only through Jesus Christ because human reason and natural theology are fundamentally unreliable after the Fall. Barth argues that God is wholly transcendent and cannot be discovered through ordinary human investigation. Human beings cannot “climb up” to God through philosophy, science or ethics because sin has distorted human understanding. Instead, God must reveal himself freely and graciously. For Barth, this revelation occurs uniquely in Jesus Christ, who is “the Word made flesh” from John 1. Jesus is therefore not merely one source of knowledge about God but the only true revelation of God’s nature. Barth famously rejected natural theology during his dispute with Emil Brunner, declaring “Nein!” to the suggestion that there is a natural human capacity for knowledge of God. Barth believed that attempts to know God apart from Christ risk creating an idol shaped by human desires rather than encountering the true God. This position is supported by biblical evidence, particularly John 14:9 where Jesus says, “Whoever has seen me has seen the Father.” The implication is that God’s character is fully disclosed only in Christ. Barth’s view is persuasive because it recognises the limitations of finite human reason when discussing an infinite being. Natural theology may reveal only vague concepts such as a “first cause” or “designer”, but Christ reveals God personally as loving, sacrificial and redemptive. Furthermore, Barth’s emphasis on revelation protects Christianity from reducing God to an abstract philosophical principle. Critics may argue that Barth dismisses too quickly the value of reason, yet his approach successfully explains why Christian knowledge of God is centred on the incarnation rather than speculation. Therefore, Barth strongly supports the thesis that genuine knowledge of God comes only through Jesus Christ.

Secondly, Bonhoeffer develops this argument further by insisting that God is known only through participation in the suffering and person of Christ rather than through detached intellectual inquiry. Writing during the rise of Nazism, Bonhoeffer believed liberal theology had failed because it reduced Christianity to moral philosophy and ignored the radical revelation of God in Christ. In “Letters and Papers from Prison”, he argues that “God lets himself be pushed out of the world onto the cross.” This means that God is revealed paradoxically through weakness and suffering in Jesus rather than through worldly power or rational certainty. Bonhoeffer’s theology is profoundly Christocentric because he believes Christ stands “in the centre of human existence”. Human beings encounter God not through abstract reasoning but through discipleship and relationship with Christ. This is evident in his famous work “The Cost of Discipleship”, where he condemns “cheap grace” and argues that authentic Christianity requires following Jesus completely. Bonhoeffer’s ideas strengthen the thesis because they show that knowledge of God is experiential and relational rather than merely intellectual. Christ reveals not only that God exists but what God is like: self-giving love expressed on the cross. Bonhoeffer also demonstrates the practical consequences of revelation, since his opposition to Hitler arose from his understanding of Christ’s teachings. This gives his theology moral credibility and existential depth. Supporters would argue that natural theology could never reveal the specifically Christian understanding of forgiveness, sacrifice and salvation found in Christ. Although critics may claim Bonhoeffer’s approach is overly exclusive toward other religions, his theology compellingly explains why Christians see Jesus as the decisive revelation of God rather than simply one teacher among many. Consequently, Bonhoeffer reinforces the claim that knowledge of God comes only through Jesus Christ.

However, a significant counterclaim is that knowledge of God can also arise through natural theology, reason and religious experience independently of Christ. Thinkers such as Thomas Aquinas argue that the natural world reflects its creator and therefore provides genuine knowledge of God. Aquinas’ Five Ways attempt to demonstrate God’s existence through observation of motion, causation and contingency. Similarly, William Paley argued through the design argument that the complexity of nature points towards an intelligent designer. More modern scholars such as Richard Swinburne defend the cumulative power of natural theology and religious experience. These thinkers challenge the thesis because they suggest human reason is capable of reaching at least partial knowledge of God without Christ. Nevertheless, this counterclaim is ultimately unconvincing. Firstly, natural theology may indicate the possibility of some creator, but it cannot reveal the specifically Christian God of love and redemption. The cosmological and teleological arguments reveal little about God’s character, intentions or relationship with humanity. Secondly, the problem of evil undermines the idea that nature straightforwardly reveals God. If nature points to God, then disease, suffering and natural disasters may suggest a cruel or indifferent deity rather than the loving Father revealed by Christ. Barth therefore argues that natural theology produces ambiguous and contradictory conclusions. Furthermore, religious experiences are subjective and vary enormously across cultures and religions, making them unreliable as universal sources of truth. By contrast, Christians claim Christ provides a concrete historical revelation accessible through scripture and tradition. Even Aquinas himself believed revealed theology was necessary for salvation because reason alone was insufficient. Therefore, while natural theology may provide hints or preparation for belief, it does not provide complete or certain knowledge of God. The counterclaim ultimately fails because only Christ reveals the fullness of God’s nature and purposes.

In conclusion, knowledge of God comes only through Jesus Christ because human reason and natural theology are incapable of attaining full and reliable understanding of the divine. The strongest argument is Barth’s claim that sinful humanity cannot discover God independently and therefore depends entirely upon God’s self-revelation in Christ. Bonhoeffer deepens this insight by showing that God is encountered personally through the suffering, love and discipleship embodied in Jesus. Although natural theology and religious experience may point vaguely towards the existence of a creator, they cannot reveal the distinctively Christian understanding of God’s character and salvific purpose. Ultimately, Christianity stands or falls on the belief that Jesus Christ is not merely a messenger about God but God revealed in human form. Therefore, theologians and believers alike should prioritise Christ-centred revelation over purely rational approaches if they wish to attain authentic knowledge of God.

The Bible is a comprehensive moral guide. Discuss [40]

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Protestant Christians have faith “Sola Scriptura”, seeing Christian Ethics as Theonomous and based only on God’s commands… usually as found in Scripture, which is understood to be the Words of God and Inerrant. Despite this, relatively few Protestants would accept that the Bible is a comprehensive moral guide because there are some subjects on which the Bible says nothing (such as Abortion, IVF, Assisted Dying) and because even where the Bible does speak, what is said is in need of interpretation. As a result, the Bible is not a comprehensive moral guide.

Firstly, even Karl Barth rejected the claim that the Bible is a comprehensive moral guide. Barth criticised both Natural Theology and Natural Law, the Roman Catholic claim that we can discover most of what is right and wrong using reason, because he believed that this has been corrupted by the Fall. Drawing on the writings of St Paul and St Augustine, Barth argued that we are saved by grace and faith and not because of anything we have done (Ephesians 2:8), suggesting that we can’t discover God’s existence or nature using reason and neither can we discover right and wrong, let alone use this knowledge to earn our own salvation by works (the Pelagian heresy). For Barth, knowledge of God and what is good must be revealed and this revelation is for most people through Scripture. Yet Barth also criticised the view that the Bible is a comprehensive moral guide. This is because Scripture is not itself God’s revelation, but rather witness to God’s revelation through Jesus and the Prophets. Being only a record of what was revealed, rather than revelation, it should be seen as a human creation and subject to some errors and omissions, however minor. For Barth, as for Bonhoeffer, Christians should reflect on their reading of Scripture as a whole and on the example of Jesus when making moral decisions autonomously and personally, rather than trying to follow lines of the Bible individually on face value. Today, scholars such as NT Wright and Peter Enns agree with Barth’s approach to Biblical Ethics. For NT Wright, the narrative or story of the Bible is true and inerrant, but the idea that isolated parts can be taken literally out of context and without proper interpretation is mistaken. Similarly, Enns points out that the Bible is a human creation which reflects its cultural contexts and authors’ perspectives. Surely, God speaks through scripture, but it should not be understood as a transcript of God’s words, let alone as a comprehensive guide to God’s thinking on moral issues. Biblical Criticism supports the approach to Scripture taken by Barth, Wright and Enns. Textual analysis has shown that the Bible was written by multiple authors and repeatedly redacted, as well as that the historical, political and theological concerns of the authors and redactors are reflected in the text. Given this, as well as the existence of multiple translations and editions of the Bible, it is hard to see that it is intellectually credible to argue that the Bible is a comprehensive moral guide.

In addition, the Roman Catholic Church, while upholding the principle of Biblical Inerrancy, dismisses the idea that the Bible is a comprehensive moral guide. For Roman Catholics, Scripture is one source of moral authority among others, including Tradition and Reason (Natural Law). As Aquinas pointed out, Scripture needs to be read as a whole and through “the lens of doctrine” or it can seem to give guidance that contradicts reason and/or Christian tradition. For example, in Romans 2:6 the Bible says “God will repay each one according to his deeds.” and of course Matthew 25 says much the same thing through the Parable of the Sheep and Goats, while the Bible also says that people are saved by Grace and Faith and not because of anything they have done in Ephesians 2:8-9. This seems contradictory and could lead an individual Protestant who reads the Bible to believe that they are saved because of good works and perhaps that anybody who does good works will be saved, while this contradicts Christian tradition which is clearly Sola Gratia and exclusivist. Roman Catholics point out that following Church Teachings, which are informed by Tradition and Reason as well as Scripture, which itself is interpreted “through the lens of doctrine” and as a whole rather than in isolated parts, guards against being led into error in this way. Of course, evangelical Protestants will reject this argument that Christian Ethics should be Heteronomous, reasoning that the Bible itself says that the Holy Spirit will guide those who God has saved to the truth, so they do not misunderstand God’s will when reading Scripture. “But when he, the Spirit of truth, comes, he will guide you into all the truth.” John 16:13 Yet Roman Catholics would reject this and say that this is a very particular interpretation of this passage and does not explain how faithful Christians can read Scripture and end up with multiple interpretations of what it says. If having the “right interpretation” depends on having been saved and having “wrong interpretations” is symptomatic of having not received God’s Grace and Spirit, then when multiple interpretations exist amongst God’s fearing and good people – as is evidenced by the multiplicity of Protestant denominations for example – how is anybody to know what the “right interpretation” and God’s law is? The result of arguing that Scripture is a comprehensive moral guide is to leave Christian Ethics up to the consciences of individuals, giving them license to believe that anything that they feel led to believe is what God commands. This is not a practical approach to Christian Ethics. The Yorkshire Ripper Peter Sutcliffe believed that he was led by God to murder women, quoting his readings of scripture to justify his heinous crimes… can anybody really say that he should have listened to his conscience and that he was right to do so when it led him to break God’s sixth Commandment (Exodus 20:13) as well as the whole of Christian tradition and reason? While Acts 5:29 does say “we must obey God rather than human beings”, suggesting that doing what is right may well break social norms and even religious teachings, the argument that Christian Ethics consists in following one’s personal “conscience” wherever it leads, provided that these leadings were inspired by one’s reading of the Bible in some way (however idiosyncratic or irrational), is difficult to defend. This suggests that the Bible is not a comprehensive moral guide.

On the other hand, the Bible itself suggests that it is a comprehensive moral guide – at least in parts – so Protestants who have faith Sola Scriptura and uphold Biblical Inerrancy may feel bound to accept that the Bible is a comprehensive moral guide. St Paul wrote that “all scripture is God-breathed and is useful for teaching… so that the servant of God may be thoroughly equipped for every good work…” 2 Timothy 3:16-17; this implies that the Bible is a complete moral handbook for Christians. On the other hand, Roman Catholics have pointed out that this quotation is taken out of context, ignoring the preceding sentence “continue in what you have learned and have become convinced of, because you know those from whom you learned it” 2 Timothy 3:14, which suggests that there are sources of authority besides the Bible. Further, there are other passages in the Bible which suggest that there are moral authorities outside of Scripture. Romans 13:1 affirms “Let everyone be subject to the governing authorities, for there is no authority except that which God has established.” suggesting that Christians should obey those who have power and worldly authority as well as the “plain word of Scripture”. This is confirmed by Hebrews 13:17. Further, the Bible also says that ignorant people can misinterpret Scripture, suggesting that Luther was wrong to suggest that “A simple layman armed with Scripture is to be believed above a pope or a cardinal without it.” St Peter wrote of St Paul’s letters – amongst which 2 Timothy purports to be – that “His letters contain some things that are hard to understand, which ignorant and unstable people distort, as they do the other Scriptures, to their own destruction.” 2 Peter 3:16, suggesting that it is possible for people to be misled by the word of Scripture and that additional education may be necessary to understand its true meaning. In this way, the Roman Catholic Church’s teaching on the authority of Scripture – that it must be acknowledged as “teaching solidly, faithfully and without error that truth which God wanted put into sacred writings for the sake of salvation.” Dei Verbum but that the Church holds the authority to interpret it, to discover and communicate that truth to ordinary people, handed down from St Peter who received it from Jesus (Matthew 18:18) – is more persuasive than the minority Protestant view that Scripture is a comprehensive moral guide. Further, using the inerrancy of the Bible to justify having faith in the inerrancy and completeness of the Bible is a circular argument which as such is unconvincing. Nevertheless, Evangelical Protestants such as RC Sproul, JI Packer and more recently Wayne Grudem have argued that the Bible is a comprehensive moral guide. They stress Biblical Inerrancy, arguing that faith in God means faith in God’s word in scripture. If one doubts the Bible and its teaching in any part, it is the same as doubting God’s authority and not consistent with being a Christian. St Augustine made this point, as did Harold Lindsell in “The Battle for the Bible”, published in 1978, the same year that many Protestant leaders signed up to the Chicago Statement on Biblical Inerrancy. Yet, despite signing the Chicago Statement on inerrancy, even Evangelical scholars like Wayne Grudem stop short of claiming that the Bible is a comprehensive moral guide today, because the Bible does not address many contemporary moral issues. He wrote “the Bible always tells the truth, and it always tells the truth concerning everything that it talks about.” This suggests that there may be things that the Bible does not talk about, about which it does not tell the truth, and so that the Bible is not a comprehensive moral guide.

In conclusion, the Bible is not a comprehensive moral guide. This is accepted by Protestant authorities such as Karl Barth as well as by the Roman Catholic Church and is supported by reason, evidence and even some parts of the Bible itself. Even those few evangelical protestant scholars who seem to support this claim stop short of actually endorsing the idea that the Bible is a comprehensive or complete guide when it comes to modern moral issues.

To what extent is the cosmological argument a sufficient explanation for the existence of God? [40]

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The cosmological argument has its roots in the writings of Plato and Aristotle, but is most associated with Aquinas’ first, second and third ways to demonstrate God’s existence and today with William Lane Craig’s Kalam argument.  While cosmological arguments see God as the “sufficient reason” for the universe, overall, they do not provide a sufficient explanation for the existence of God.

Firstly, Leibniz’ version of the cosmological argument saw God as the “sufficient reason” for the universe. God is needed, he reasoned, to explain why there is anything at all. In “The Existence of God” Richard Swinburne writes how this is the most basic and persuasive argument for God’s existence.  Leibniz’ reasoning built on Aquinas’ third way, which started with the premises that everything in the universe is contingent and that something cannot come from nothing, concluding that there must be a necessary being – a being which exists because of itself and cannot not exist – to explain the existence of everything else. Yet Kant rejected this line of argument in the introduction to his “Critique of Pure Reason”, pointing out that as everything that we experience exists contingently, necessary existence is not something we can posit or discuss.  For Kant, to exist is to exist contingently and to be capable of non-existence… the idea of necessary existence is contradictory and impossible. While there are those who reject Kant’s argument and indeed his whole worldview, such as Willard Quine and Charles Hartshorne, it remains the dominant position in philosophy. While Kant may not have shown that necessary existence is impossible, his observation that it falls outside the scope of our experience strongly supports that conclusion.  This shows that God is not needed to be the necessary explanation for the universe we experience.

Secondly, as David Hume observed through his character Philo in Dialogues Concerning Natural Religion, despite being presented as deductive proofs for God’s existence cosmological arguments fail because there is no way to show that their premises are true. For example, Aquinas starts his first way with the premises that everything in the universe is moved and that things can’t move themselves, concluding that there must therefore be a Prime Mover and that this is what everybody calls God. As Hume pointed out, there is no way to know if everything in the universe is moved or that no thing can move itself because our experience of the universe is too limited to support such sweeping claims.  It is possible that while things in the universe are moved and must be moved by other things, the universe itself could be unmoving and/or self-moving.  As Bertrand Russell later asked, why should not the universe itself be considered a “brute fact”?  Although Big Bang theory seems to have falsified the idea that the Universe could be considered a “brute fact,” in other ways science supports Hume’s scepticism, finding that sub-atomic particles like Quarks do not follow standard laws of causation and logic and forcing William Lane Craig to use more limited premises in his Kalam argument than Aquinas did in his Cosmological Argument.  Craig reasons that since “everything that begins to exist must have a cause” and “the universe began to exist” it follows that “the universe must have a cause”.  Although it strategically stops short of concluding that the cause of the universe is “what everybody calls God” – leaving this for people to infer – Craig’s argument seems persuasive in the context of a layman’s understanding of the standard model of Physics. Yet, Stephen Hawking criticised his argument for assuming that causation must or even could apply where there is no time or space at and before the Big Bang. This shows that the cosmological argument fails to demonstrate God’s existence

On the other hand, other versions of the cosmological argument have been presented as inductive or even abductive arguments, suggesting that God is the most probable explanation for many observations of movement, causation, contingency and other forms of order in the universe.  This approach acknowledges that science could provide natural explanations for these phenomena, but dismisses these as less probable than the simple, elegant explanation provided in God. Yet, while the prime mover, uncaused cause or necessary being supported by Aquinas’ ways seems   to be a simpler explanation than the complex natural accounts presented by science, as Hume pointed out, the prime mover, if such there is, would be very far from being “what everybody calls God.”  In terms of prime movers, uncaused causes or necessary beings, there could be several for all we know and it/they would hardly need to be personal, immanent or good.  Also, the God of the Bible is nothing if not a complex character, being possessed of many characteristics outside the scope of those possessed by the prime mover, so that Richard Dawkins was right to reject the claim that “God” could ever be a simpler explanation in “The God Delusion”.  While Aquinas did attempt to show how the prime mover, uncaused cause and necessary being demonstrated by the cosmological argument was really the God of Christianity, these explanations were outside the scope of the cosmological arguments and unconvincing.  For example, Aquinas claimed that because God is the prime mover, uncaused cause and necessary being He must be timeless-eternal and outside the universe.  It follows that divine attributes like power, knowledge or goodness must be understood as analogies when describing God. Yet Aquinas’ classical theism is unconvincing because although it attempts to provide a philosophical justification for believing that “God” exists – not least through the cosmological argument – this justification is flawed and comes at the price of undermining both the Bible and Christian Doctrine as sources of knowledge about God.  This shows that inductive or abductive versions of the cosmological argument are no more useful as explanations for God’s existence than deductive versions.

Further, all versions of the cosmological argument are part of Natural Theology, the attempt to explain that and how God exists using reason. Natural Theology has long been controversial within Christianity, because it assumes that human beings can discover God and potentially salvation for themselves without God’s grace, which idea was dismissed by St Paul (e.g. Ephesians 2:8) and later made a heresy because of St Augustine’s theological arguments.  It follows that for most Christians Natural Theology cannot provide sufficient knowledge of God’s existence or concerning God’s nature for human beings to attain salvation apart from God’s grace.  Instead, Christians must rely on Revealed Theology, such as through Scripture, Jesus and/or personal religious experience, to demonstrate God’s existence, nature and will.  In one way, this makes sense of the cosmological arguments’ failure to show that God is the necessary or even the most probable explanation of the universe and of the disjunct between the attributes of the prime mover and the God of the Bible.  It could be that the cosmological argument, and wider Natural Theology, provides only an indication that God exists, showing that faith is rational and that atheists are as St Paul put it “without excuse”, while maintaining the necessity of revelation and grace for salvation. Yet it seems terribly convenient that Christian doctrine should so cover for the failure of Natural Theology and the cosmological argument. St Paul and St Augustine would both have been aware of versions of the cosmological argument in the work of Plato and Aristotle and that these arguments are not sufficient explanations for the God of Christianity.  Could their theological arguments have been pragmatic rather than principled in their attempt to sideline reason in favour of revelation?

In conclusion, the cosmological argument does not provide a sufficient explanation for the existence of God. None of the versions of the argument succeed in demonstrating God’s existence. Deductive versions rely on uncertain premises and don’t contain the full conclusion of the Christian God’s existence. Inductive and abductive versions fail to establish that “God” is a simpler explanation of the universe than natural explanations provided by science.  Also, theological attempts to explain why Natural Theology should fail are unconvincing.

Aquinas successfully demonstrates that religious language should be understood in terms of analogy. Discuss. [40]

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As the Summa Theologica makes clear, St Thomas Aquinas’ approach to religious language emerged from his concept of God.  As a Classical Theist, Aquinas saw God as timeless eternal, meaning that words applied to God cannot be understood univocally, to mean the same as they would when applied to created things. While the Bible, the Creeds and Christian doctrines use language univocally in ways that make God seem like a person, subject to limitation and change, for Aquinas God is timelessly other and should not be so anthropomorphised and limited by language.  He saw some merits in the apophatic approach to language, which speaks of God by negation if at all seeing direct religious language as equivocal, but wanted to preserve the possibility of affirming some things about God in a meaningful way, recognising that an equivocal approach to language undermines philosophy and doctrine in a way that must eventually be fatal to organised religion.  The result was Aquinas’ argument that words applied to God should be understood as analogies which is successful in avoiding both the pitfalls of univocalism and giving in to equivocalism, although it depends heavily on his concept of God and so may not be useful to all Christians.

Firstly, Aquinas claimed that claims such as “God is good” should not be taken to imply that God is morally good, such as would imply choice and the existence of independent values but should instead be understood as analogies of proportion. When we say that something is good, we mean that it largely fulfils its nature.  Human nature is to be free and moral, but if God is the origin of our freedom and of moral values it makes little sense to anthropomorphise him by assuming his nature is like ours.  Nothing in this world is perfect; because of time and space nothing can fulfil 100% of its nature.  For example, a person has the potential to be a baby and an adult.  However good they are, they can only fulfil part of their potential at one time, such as by being a good adult.  Nevertheless, God is outside the time and space that holds us back from actualising our full potential and being perfect. When we say that God is good, we mean that God fulfils 100% of his timeless divine nature, being changelessly perfect; what it is for God to fulfil God’s nature is not what it means for us to fulfil our more limited nature.  John Hick used the example of a man and his dog, both of which might be said to be faithful. What it is for a man to be faithful and for a dog to be faithful are not quite the same, but by saying they are faithful we mean that both do a large proportion of what we expect of a faithful member of their species. It follows that our goodness is not the same as God’s goodness… the word good is not used univocally when applied to God… but there is a connection between our goodness and God’s goodness which means that words applied to God are not equivocal either.   In this way, Aquinas’ analogy of proportion is successful in avoiding both the pitfalls of univocalism and giving into equivocalism.

Secondly, Aquinas claimed that attributes like goodness exist primarily in God as the creator and only secondarily in created things, so that what we say about God and created things is connected while still having different meanings and preserving the otherness of God. To explain his analogy of attribution, Aquinas used the example of a bull and its urine… the health of the bull is primary and the health of the urine it produces is secondary… the health of the bull and its urine consist in different things, but the health of the one is the source of the health of the other, so there is a connection.  Simon Oliver uses the example of me and my breakfast yoghurt… both might be said to be healthy, but the healthiness of the yoghurt is secondary and depends on my healthiness, which is primary.  My health might consist in having clear skin, energy and a habit of going jogging… but the health of the yoghurt does not consist in any of these things.  In the same way, the goodness, power or wisdom of God is primary, and the goodness, power or wisdom of created things is secondary.  What it is for God to be good, powerful or wise might be radically different from what it means for a person to be these things, and not only by degree, avoiding limiting God through a univocal use of language.  Yet, there is a clear connection between the goodness, power and wisdom of God and of created creatures, which avoids an equivocal approach to religious language also. 

On the other hand, as Anthony Kenny pointed out the analogical meaning of God’s attributes preserved by Aquinas is extremely limited, making this approach to religious language unsuccessful when it comes to sustaining religion in a practical way.  Kenny suggested that the idea of timeless attributes such as goodness, power or wisdom seems “radically incoherent”, which is a fair criticism, as is the related point that many believers do not understand language analogically, even those who lead or have led the Church.  While Ian Ramsey was right to point out how people often use “qualifiers” like “timelessly” to signify that their use of words to describe God should not be taken as “ordinary language” but as religious language which is “logically odd”, in practice many people do not use such qualifiers or seem to understand that there should be any difficulty in using language univocally at all. Further, as Nelson Pike observed, the God of the Bible is “unavoidably tensed”.  It makes little sense to see God as timeless when that would make the creation, the fall and the resurrection simultaneous in God’s timeless vision. This is why Protestant philosophers look for other ways of understanding religious language, seeing Aquinas analogical approach as bound up in a concept of God which is fundamentally unchristian. John MacQuarrie lamented the adoption of the Greek concept of God into the Christian tradition, seeing this as the cause of multiple avoidable philosophical problems that have beset the faith through the best part of two millennia.  In this context, Richard Swinburne and Nicholas Wolterstorff approach religious language in a more straightforward univocal way.  Further, some Classical Theists support a more univocal approach to religious language than Aquinas.  For examples, St Anselm and John Duns Scotus reasoned that God as creator must have created the concepts through which we understand and speak of Him, meaning that we can speak confidently about God using a far wider range of words and meanings than Aquinas would allow.  All of this suggests that the success of Aquinas’ analogical approach to religious language is limited to those who share his concept of God and does not extend even to all of those.

In conclusion, Aquinas’ analogical approach to understanding religious language is coherent and persuasive if one shares his concept of God, although it is possibly too limited to support religious practice.  Nevertheless, many Christians do not accept either Aquinas’ concept of God or his analogical approach to understanding religious language because they choose to focus on revealed rather than on natural theology as the primary source of their knowledge of God.

Assess the view that Aquinas’ doctrine of analogy enables us to speak significantly about God (40)

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Aquinas doctrine of analogy was intended to reconcile a philosophically credible concept of God, a God who is wholly “other”, with the human ability to speak about Him in meaningful terms.  Aquinas, who based his worldview on that of Aristotle, saw that God’s existence is best demonstrated a posteriori, from experience.  Four of his famous five ways show that God is what Aristotle called the “Prime Mover”, the originating and sustaining cause of everything which also defines the final cause of the universe and explains its teleological character.  This suggests that for Aquinas’ God, like Aristotle’s prime mover, is eternal outside time and space, impersonal and transcendent.  As Maimonides pointed out, this means that claims about God should not be understood univocally, because the edge of time and space – and thus possible experience – is like a “veil and partition” between God and us.  What it means for God to be good cannot be the same as what it means for a human being to be good… There is no time or choice for God, after all.  Nevertheless, Aquinas disagreed with Maimonides about the apophatic way being the only way to speak concerning God.  Aquinas saw that religion cannot be well supported by negative language, also pointing out that one has to have a clear concept of what God is to be able to decide what God is not.  Therefore, Aquinas’ doctrine of analogy attempted to define what can be said about God in positive terms, steering people away from univocicity whilst preventing claims from being seen as equivocal either.  Nevertheless, Aquinas’ doctrine of analogy does not enable us to speak significantly enough about God.

Firstly, Aquinas’ doctrine of analogy is too limited to support the meaningfulness of morality.  For Aquinas, I can say that God is good meaningfully.  Through analogy of proportion, by saying that God is good I know that God is 100% actual and has no potential, because the meaning of goodness is that something fulfils its nature and God, being atemporal, can do nothing other than 100% fulfil his nature.  Further, through analogy of attribution, I know that God’s goodness is unlike human goodness and yet it has a causative relationship with human goodness in the way that the goodness of the baker or the bull has a causative relationship with the goodness of the bread or the urine.  Relatedly though more broadly, through Aquinas’ analogy of being, I know that the being of created contingent things is secondary to the primary being of God.  In the way that the healthiness of a yoghurt is secondary and the healthiness of the person who eats the yogurt is primary, so the being of God is primary and supports the being of all other things, although what it means for God to be and created things to be is not the same.  Nevertheless, knowing that God is 100% whatever God is and that his goodness and being enables things in the world to be good and be does not really tell me anything significant about God’s nature, other than perhaps that he intends things to fulfil their various natures as He fulfils His timelessly.  Aquinas built his theory of natural law on this analogical understanding of God’s nature and tried to extrapolate moral norms from it, suggesting that it is God’s will that human beings fulfil their common nature and that actions which contribute to this end are good.  Yet Natural Law struggles because there is no clear and consistent account of what the common human nature, that God wants us to fulfil in order to be good, is.  For one example, while Aquinas saw procreation as a necessary part of this human nature and thus essential to human goodness, Chappell and originally Finnis disagreed, not seeing procreation as a necessary part of human nature or essential to goodness at all.  Their position is strengthened by Aquinas own argument that some goods pertain to certain men more than others, hence a priest may be celibate because he is pursuing the good of praising God which conflicts with the good of having children in practice.  The fact that people can’t agree on what a common human nature entails, despite being able to experience and observe this, emphasizes how little content there can be within the claim “god is good” – or any other claim about God’s nature – when understood analogically. Further, having so little idea of what God’s goodness entails forces us to rely heavily on a contested definition of human nature, meaning that an analogical approach to religious language fails to support morality.  This shows that Aquinas doctrine of analogy does not enable us to speak significantly enough about God, because it only serves to emphasis how little we can know about God’s goodness and fails to support morality. 

Secondly, Aquinas’ doctrine of analogy does not support the meaningfulness of the Bible or central documents such as the Nicene Creed.  From the Bible we know that God spoke on numerous occasions, appeared in visions and had relationships with Prophets and with Jesus, and yet again, Aquinas’ doctrine of analogy emphasizes the “otherness” of God, which undermines these essentially Christian beliefs.  At least Maimonides admitted that Scripture should be read as myths and legends, yet Aquinas never went this far. According to Aquinas’ doctrine of analogy, we can only speak analogically of God because God is outside time and space and what Tillich later called “the ground of our being”, yet this is not the impression that (most of) the Bible gives.  As Nelson Pike pointed out, the Bible’s God acts in a way that is “unavoidably tensed” and apparently at odds with an analogical interpretation of religious language.  For example, Aquinas would suggest that a claim that “God created the heavens and the earth” should not be understood univocally.  God’s creative act cannot be like a creative act of say a potter.  Rather, God’s creative act must be simple and single, as befits his timeless-eternal nature.  This means that all parts of God’s creative action are concurrent, just as all God’s various attributes are different ways of understanding God’s wholly simple nature.  There can be no division between parts of God’s act in creation, just as there can be no division between God’s goodness and power, his power and knowledge for examples.  How then can we make sense of the Biblical salvation narrative?  Analogically, Aquinas would have us believe that God’s act in creation is not like a human act, having no time before, during or after and no alternative possibilities.  How though can the creation be concurrent with the fall and with the incarnation and final judgement?  This makes no sense of central Christian doctrines.  Also, the doctrine of the Trinity is problematic, because it suggests that God is best understood through the three distinct persons of God.  Aquinas’ doctrine of analogy suggests otherwise… indeed we must focus on the very oneness of God to make sense of what we can say and mean analogically through proportion, attribution and being more generally.  This inability to support claims made in the Bible and creeds also shows that Aquinas’ doctrine of analogy is too limited to enable Christians to speak significantly of God. 

Of course, Aquinas’ theory of analogy has its supporters and indeed enables us to speak more significantly about God than does the via negativa.  Aquinas’ theory of analogy is highly influential within modern Roman Catholicism and has been developed by thinkers ranging from Ian Ramsey to Austin Farrar and Gerard Hughes.  Even John Hick praised Aquinas analogical approach to religious language.  Ramsey noted how people naturally see claims made about God as “logically odd.” When we use words like power or love in relation to God, we know that we don’t intend people to interpret them in the same way as they would in ordinary language.  Words are in a sense “models” of what we mean about God; just as a model of an atom in a science lab isn’t adequate to express the structure of the atom or the concept of the light-wave to express how light works, so the word “power” isn’t entirely adequate to express that attribute of God, but it is the best means of expression that we have.  Further, Ramsey noted that we use “qualifiers” such as “Holy” to indicate that we are using a “model”, that our claim is “logically odd” and that our intended meaning relative to God is not the same as the common meaning of words such as power or knowledge.  Hick praised this aspect of analogy noting that it allows us to speak significantly about God while also preserving the essential mystery and ineffability of the divine. Hughes suggested that the qualifier “timeless” is most appropriate to signify that words are being used analogically, drawing the mind to that part of a common meaning that makes sense in relation to the timeless nature of God.  Thus for the Thomist, when I say “God is good” I should say “God is timelessly good”, ruling out a moral interpretation of the claim which would be incompatible with God’s eternal nature.  This shows that an analogical approach to language fits in with modern Roman Catholic beliefs and usage, supporting the significance of some important things that Catholics say about God.  Yet Aquinas’ analogical approach to religious language still fails to enable us to speak significantly about God for two reasons. 

  • Firstly because some Roman Catholic writers were critical of Aquinas’ analogical theory of religious language straight away.  For example, John Duns Scotus preferred the Cataphatic approach of St Anselm and St Bonaventure.  An analogical approach to language is, for Scotus, too limited to support significant religious beliefs and utterances.  Instead, Scotus argued that we should be able to speak univocally of God since the very concepts we use to describe and affirm his characteristics were created by God as part of his simple, single act of creation.  His approach owes more to Plato than it does to Aristotle, suggesting that God is more like the Form of the Good, giving definition to the concepts through which we experience reality and so knowable through reason and describable in ordinary language.
  • Secondly, because while analogy does seem intuitive to those whose worldview includes a timeless-eternal God, it is less so for those whose worldview includes a personal, immanent God.  How is the claim that God is timelessly wise, as Hughes might have it, compatible with the claim that God knows “the inmost secrets of our hearts” as the Psalmist affirms, let alone with the claim that God hears and answers prayers?  God’s wisdom should not be understood univocally, and should only be taken to mean that God has 100% of the knowledge appropriate to God, being timeless, and that God’s knowledge and our knowledge have a causative relationship of some sort, God’s wisdom being primary and ours secondary in the way that the health of a person is primary and of a yoghurt is secondary.  Neither of those understandings support the significance of my belief that God knows what is in my heart right now, or is capable of understanding and answering me personally.   

Of course, Aquinas’ doctrine of analogy is still better than Maimonides via negativa.  The via negativa wouldn’t let me say anything positive about God’s wisdom or knowledge at all, supporting only the claim that “God is not ignorant” for example.  Yet in practice the content supported by the doctrine of analogy is only a little more significant than that supported by the via negativa, and as has already been argued, is certainly not sufficient to do justice to the range of Christian beliefs or documents such as the Bible or the Creed.  This shows that Aquinas’ doctrine of analogy does not enable us to speak significantly enough about God.

In conclusion, while Aquinas doctrine of analogy supports us in speaking more significantly than does the via negativa, it still does not enable us to speak significantly enough about God to support Christian faith.  Being Christian demands that God is and can be said to be personal, immanent, active through the Bible and in the world today, not to mention incarnate in Jesus who was fully God as well as fully man.  Aquinas’ doctrine of analogy is far too limited to enable Christians to articulate these significant beliefs.  Better understandings of religious language from this point of view include symbol and metaphor, both of which allow a greater variety of things to be said meaningfully than does analogy.