By Mark S. M. Scott
Imagine for a moment that through a special act of divine providence God assembled the greatest theologians throughout time to sit around a theological round table to solve the problem of evil. You would have many of the usual suspects: Athanasius, Augustine, Thomas Aquinas, Martin Luther, John Calvin, and Karl Barth. You would have the mystics: Gregory of Nyssa, Julian of Norwich, Catherine of Sienna, Teresa of Ávila, and Thomas Merton. You would have the scholastics: Anselm, Peter Lombard, Bonaventure, and John Duns Scotus. You would have the newcomers: Jürgen Moltmann, Sarah Coakley, and Miroslav Volf. You might even have some unknown names and faces. Feel free to place your favorite theologian around the table. With these diverse and dynamic minds, you could expect to have a spirited conversation.
If you were to moderate the discussion around our massive oak table you would have the daunting task of keeping pace with these agile intellects and perhaps of negotiating a few inflated egos. It might be difficult to get a word in edgewise. Augustine would be affable and loquacious. Aquinas would be precise and ponderous. Luther would be humorous and polemical. But where would Origen of Alexandria (c. 185-254) fit in, the greatest theologian of Eastern Christianity? What would he say about the problem of evil? All agree he deserves an honored seat at the table, but often others around the table suck all the oxygen out of the room, leaving little air for his profound insights, particularly on the problem of evil, which anticipate later developments while also reflecting his distinctive intellectual milieu. Let’s imagine how the conversation might go.
![Disputa di Santo Stefano fra i Dottori nel Sinedrio by Vittore Carpaccio [Public domain or Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons](http://blog.oup.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/07/Vittore_Carpaccio_059.jpg)
Disputa di Santo Stefano fra i Dottori nel Sinedrio by Vittore Carpaccio [Public domain or Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.
: “Welcome all. I’ve been asked to begin our discussion. Let me say first that the problem of evil represents the most formidable conceptual challenge to theism.”
Augustine: “I agree, but the problem’s resolved once we realize that evil doesn’t exist per se, like a malevolent substance, it’s simply the privation of the good. At any rate, God doesn’t create evil, we do, and God eventually brings good out of evil, so evil doesn’t have the final say.”
Sarah Coakley: “It can’t be settled that easily. I’m suspicious of grand theological narratives that simplify conceptual complexities. Let’s retrieve some neglected voices on the problem.”
Gregory of Nazianzus: “I’ve written a theological poem about it that I’d like to share.”
Basil of Caesarea: “Please don’t. I can’t sit through another one of your theological poems.”
Gregory of Nazianzus: “Fine. I’m out of here. I didn’t want to come in the first place.”
Jürgen Moltmann: “That was a little rude, Basil, you know Greg’s sensitive, especially about his theological poetry, but let’s get back to the topic at hand. We can’t answer the theodicy question in this life, but we can’t discard it either. All we can do is turn to the God who suffers with, from, and for the world for solidarity with us in our suffering. Only the suffering God can help.”
Dietrich Bonhoeffer: “I couldn’t have said it better myself.”
Karl Rahner: “The problem of evil is a fundamental question of human existence.”
John of the Cross: “I have endured many dark nights agonizing over it.”
Julian of Norwich: “Fear not, brother John, all will be well.”
John Calvin: “Not for those predestined to the fires of hell, but that’s part of the mystery of divine providence, which is inviolable, so in a refined theological sense, all will be well.”
Julian of Norwich: “I think we have different visions of what wellness means.”
Martin Luther: “You’re all crazy casuists. We’re probing into the deeps of divine mystery. We’re way out of our depth. We’re just small, sinful worms: we can’t possibly solve these riddles.”
F. D. W. Schleiermacher: “Settle down, Martin, we’re just talking. What do you think, Karl?”
Karl Barth and Karl Rahner (simultaneously): “Which Karl?”
Miroslav Volf: “Let’s give the Karls a pass. We heard enough from them last time, and we want to make room for others. Barth would probably just talk about ‘nothingness’ anyway.”
Hans Urs von Balthasar: “Origen, you’ve been quiet, and you haven’t touched your food, what are your thoughts on the problem of evil? Won’t you give us the benefit of your deep erudition?”
Origen: “I’ve often pondered the question of the justice of divine providence, especially when I observe the unfair conditions people inherit at birth. Some suffer more than others for no apparent reason, and some are born with major disadvantages, such as blindness or poverty.”
Dorthee Sölle: “I appreciate your attentiveness to the lived experience of suffering, Origen, and not just the theoretical problem of how to reconcile divine goodness and omnipotence with evil.”
Gregory of Nyssa: “Me too, but how do you account for the disparity of fortunes in the world? How do you preserve cosmic coherence in the face of so much injustice and misfortune?”
Origen: “I’ll tell you a plausible story that brings many of these theological threads together. Before the dawn of space and time, God created disembodied rational minds, including us. We existed in perfect harmony and happiness until through either neglect or temptation or both we drifted away from God. Since all reality participated in God’s goodness, we were in danger of drifting out of existence altogether the further we strayed from our original goodness, so God, in his benevolence, created the cosmos to catch us and to enable our ascent back to God. Our lot in life, therefore, reflects the degree of our precosmic fall, which preserves divine justice. The world, you see, exists as a schoolroom and hospital for fallen souls to return to God. Eventually, all may return to God, since the end is like the beginning, but not until undergoing spiritual transformation. We must all traverse the stages of purification, illumination, and union, both here and in the afterlife, until our journey back to God is complete and God will be all in all.”
John Hick: “That makes perfect sense to me.”
Irenaeus: “Should you really be here, John? That’s a little far out there for me, Origen.”
Athanasius: “Origen clearly has a complex, subtle mind that doesn’t lend itself to simplification. It’s a trait of Alexandrian thinkers, who are among the best theologians in church history.”
John Chrysostom: “Spare me.”
Augustine: “I think I see what Origen means, especially about the origin and ontological status of evil and God’s goodness. It’s not too far from my thoughts, except for his speculative flights.”
Thomas Aquinas: “Our time is up. We haven’t solved the problem of evil, but we seem confident that God ultimately brings good out of evil, however dire things seem, and that’s a start.”
Francis of Assisi: “Let’s end in prayer.”
Thank goodness Hans Urs von Balthasar asked for Origen’s opinion, since I doubt he would have offered it otherwise. What our imaginary theological roundtable and fictitious dialogue reveals, hopefully, is that there are a variety of voices in theology that speak to the problem of evil. Some, such as Augustine and Aquinas, are well known. Others, such as Origen, have been neglected, partly because of his complicated reception, and partly because of the subtlety and originality of his thought.
Mark Scott is an Arthur J. Ennis Postdoctoral Fellow at Villanova University. He has published on the problem of evil in numerous peer-reviewed journals in addition to his book Journey Back to God: Origen on the Problem of Evil.
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From left to right: Plato, Aristotle, Thomas Aquinas, Rene Descartes, John Locke, David Hume, Immanuel Kant, G.W.F. Hegel, Arthur Schopenhauer, Søren Kierkegaard, Friedrich Nietzsche (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
I’m doing something totally different today. This afternoon I had a conversation with a fellow writer and poet. We often have philosophical discussions, and this was no exception. I’d like to recreate a small portion of our talk.
Friend: In my little “boxed” way of thinking:
1. Photographers are seekers, first and foremost
2. Graphic artists are messengers
3. Composers are messengers
4. Singers are channels
5. Actors are mirrors
Me: Yep, I agree about actors. Are writers the interpreters?
Friend: 6. Writers, in my mind, are all of the above
7. Philosophers are interpreters
Me: Ah, okay, I can go along with philosophers. So, let me spell this out differently–
Writers are the philosophers who seek, through pictures, to channel messages and hold up mirrors to their readers, so that interpretations of reality can be seen and appreciated, and a future can be built upon that foundation.
Poetry is the perfect medium in its own way. It’s short, lyrical in form and presents a message, philosophical in method and presentation, and gives the reader an entire picture, however short. And there is music in the cadence and rhythm of the lines that bring home the message.
Friend: I like it. That should be your blog post. I think of ghost writers, for example…
Me: I think on some level it is true. Even the most out-there writers, like early King or Koontz, write about people’s fears and what they’re based on. They give an opportunity to imagine the lengths to which those fears can go. I think ghost writers are even truer for the example. They channel so much of their client, the messages they gained while working with that individual, and so on. They may be only reflecting the philosophy of the client, but the wording, phraseology is their own, which makes or breaks the philosophy.
Friend: I suppose as writers we go “I have something to say”… that something is definitely inspired somehow. Poetry is the most compact package as far as writing goes. It also asks a lot of the readers.
Me: Which is what all messages do.
Friend: I mean… it is a push off a cliff compared to the steady rise of a roller coaster before it crashes down. Longer writing is more like the amusemen
By Paul Strohm
Among ethical concepts, conscience is a remarkable survivor. During the 2000 years of its existence it has had ups and downs, but has never gone away. Originating as Roman conscientia, it was adopted by the Catholic Church, redefined and competitively claimed by Luther and the Protestants during the Reformation, adapted to secular philosophy during the Enlightenment, and is still actively abroad in the world today. Yet the last few decades have been cloudy ones for conscience, a unique time of trial.
The problem for conscience has always been its precarious authorization. It is both a uniquely personal impulse and a matter of institutional consensus, a strongly felt personal view and a shared norm upon which all reasonable or ethical people are expected to agree. As a result of its mixed mandate, conscience performs in differing and even contradictory ways. It lends support to the dissenting individual or exponent of unpopular or even aberrant claims. But it is also summoned in support of the norm, and broadly accepted ethical standards.
Each of these authorizations—the personal and the institutional—has its pitfalls. The fervent individual, summoned by burning personal conviction about the rightness of his or her cause, lies open to suspicions of solipsism or arrogance. But, on the other hand, institutionally or state-sponsored conscience, or conscience speaking for settled public opinion, risk complacency or ethically stunted orthodoxy. One recalls the predicament of Huckleberry Finn, who suffers what he identifies as conscience pangs for his decision to assist Jim to escape from enslavement, when this bourgeois or ‘churchified’ conscience is obviously a false friend and enemy to his superior ethical intuitions.
Despite such issues, conscience remains a force for much good in the world. Its most crucial function, and perhaps the one most in need of support, is its encouragement to the private individual struggling with institutional tyrannies—most dramatically, with various forms of state tyranny. We have witnessed the incarceration and continued surveillance of China’s Ai Weiwei. Ai has recently been called ‘China’s conscience’, but his more urgent need might be less public and more personal, the need to enjoy his own conscience undisturbed by governmental or other external intervention. Remarkable individuals like Ai have proven willing to endure sacrifice for conscientious belief–and sacrifice they have. Recently Lasantha Wickramatunge, a courageous Sri Lankan journalist, gave his life to expose corruption. He wrote a farewell dispatch, which amounted to his own obituary letter, which concluded, ‘There is a calling that is yet above high office, fame, lucre and security. It is the call of conscience.’ Salman Taseer, governor of the Punjab province in Pakistan, declared in a 1 Jaunary 2011 television interview that ‘If I do not stand by my conscience, then who will?’—three days before his assassination. Less dramatically, but still tellingly, one may consider some of the smaller cases of conscience that people confront daily. Explaining his break with his political party to support a faltering gay marriage bill, Fred W. Thiele Jr, a New York state Assemblyman, explained, ‘There’s that little voice inside of you that tells you when you’ve done something right, and when you’ve done something wrong. . . That little voice kept gnawing away at me.’
0 Comments on Conscience today as of 1/1/1900
A really interesting way to capture the topic… via a conversation! I am with the friend on this one
I felt it was the only way to really show the thought progression from light conversation to more serious considerations. We all do it, but we don’t think about how the set-up works after we’re finished with it.
This way, it’s all there, and without a crafty and smart counterpart, such a conversation doesn’t take place often.
I named you friend, just in case you didn’t want your name bandied about. Guess I should have emblazoned it instead, my friend.
My only feedback would have been to bold “Me” and “Friend” so it is easier on the eye to see the conversation taking place.
I’m about to take care of that. My problem was that the system kept kicking me off and I was losing stuff right and left. I was lucky to get anything up and readable.
No worries. It’ll be changed soon.
Hi Claudette,
Can I chime in? As a photographer, writer, artist I’d like to quote Marshal Mcluhan: the medium is the message. When I paint a painting or write a story I’m the medium and what I’m doing is not spreading art so much as spreading an effect. I try to set a trap for the attention of an audience. But it doesn’t much matter what I paint or photograph or write. What is written is nothing compared to the effect of that written piece on the audience and the meaning of it coming from ME mixed with the perceived biases the audience feels about me.
You two are so wise, but collectively? Whoa!! Great stuff here, friends!
Marie Elena
Ah, but is it wisdom or mere speculation, my friend, Marie. You should hear us when the discussion goes underground.
I’m glad you liked, Marie. Sometimes I just gotta have fun. Today was one of those days.
Chime away, my young friend.
With a photographer for a sister, I’m always getting that perspective. Each of her shots reveals something from within her; an attitude, a sense of fun, whatever.
I can understand and agree that the effect, the impact is the thing, and there’s always some kind of impact, even if it’s adverse. I’ll tell Sis about the trap reference. She’ll be able to relate.
You’ve stated that beautifully, Veronica. Thank you so much for chiming in. I love hearing the views of others on questions or perspectives that I have. That’s how discussions begin and continue.
Feel free to chime in anytime. I love have you guys around.
Hi Veronica: “I try to set a trap for the attention of an audience”… brilliant!
Hi Marie: You are too kind… you just got a peek into the hours of dialog I get into with our good friend Claudsy. To be honest, I have to set a timer… I think once we were at it non stop for 4 hours… We promised not to do that to each other afterwards