It is a commonplace that Kierkegaard believed Christians should adopt a stance of suspicion toward their beliefs. What appear to be genuine Christian beliefs may, he thought, really be spurious, not by virtue of being false, but by virtue of arising in illegitimate ways. Kierkegaard's works are replete with descriptions of these illegitimate ways – the psychological and sociological conditions that produce what people mistakenly take to be genuine Christian beliefs.

Suppose that I stand firmly in what Alasdair MacIntyre describes as the Thomistic tradition of moral enquiry. I try my best to recover a historical understanding of Aquinas's teachings, and I refuse to let my philosophical opponents set the terms of debate. Now suppose that you yourself are one of my opponents: a Buddhist, a Jew, a Muslim or perhaps a secular humanist. (It makes no difference whether or not you believe in God, just so long as whatever theological commitments you might have diverge sharply from my own.) Finally, suppose that I have always found you a considerate neighbour, a friendly and responsible colleague, and a reliable contributor to worthy causes: you run the neighbourhood recycling programme, do volunteer work at an AIDS hospice, and serve as den mother of your son's Cub Scout troop. All of my experience suggests that you are, by commonly accepted standards, morally admirable; but you don't believe in God, or at least your own understanding of God and God's law differs significantly from my own. Am I, as a loyal Thomist, able to acknowledge your virtues? Or must I dismiss them all as merely apparent?

In a recent issue of Religious Studies,1 Thomas Talbott argues against what he takes to be an Augustinian picture of God, pointing out what he believes to be its more important weaknesses and thereby trying to lend credibility to an alternative picture. Much of what he argues turns on questions of the nature and requirements of justice. I shall confine myself to his claims about the relation of justice and mercy, which are not only central to the essay but also probably the weakest and least well developed part of his larger project of defending a universalist view of salvation.2

If theism is true, then there exists a being to which we appropriately refer with the term ‘God’. This point is analytic. Any object to which we appropriately refer with the term ‘God’ bears certain properties – e.g. omniscience, omnipotence and moral perfection. While the analyticity of this point may be a matter of debate, I find no problem granting its necessary truth, at least for the purposes of this paper. There are properties essential to the appropriate wearing of the title ‘God’. Does it follow from these claims that the object to which we appropriately apply the term ‘God’ bears the properties in question – omniscience, omnipotence, etc. – essentially? Is God essentially God? Or is it possible that the being to whom we refer with ‘God’ exist but not be God? Many would assume that the answers to these questions are obvious – that God is God essentially, or not at all. However, I wish to argue that there may be properties essential to Godhood, but not essential to the being that is God.

In his paper ‘Has the Ontological Argument Been Refuted?’ (Religious Studies, 29 (1993), 97–110) William F. Vallicella argues that my attempt to show that the Ontological Argument begs the question is unsuccessful.1 I believe he is wrong about this, but before endeavouring to vindicate my position I must first make clear what precisely is the point at issue between us. The Ontological Argument is not a single argument, but a family of arguments. Newly devised formulations of the argument are frequently put forward by philosophers in an effort to avoid difficulties that have been pointed out in previous versions. As a consequence there is no possibility of a conclusive proof that every form of the argument embodies the same fallacy. Nevertheless, one can, I believe, prove that all the standard versions of the argument embody a certain fallacy and that, given the nature of the argument, it is therefore unlikely that the argument can be formulated in such a way as to avoid this difficulty. What I tried to show in my paper is that the six best-known versions of the argument (the non-model versions of Anselm, Descartes and Leibniz and the modal versions of Malcolm, Hartshorne and Plantinga) all beg the question and that they do so at the same point in the argument, namely when it is asserted that it is possible that an absolutely perfect being exists. It is difficult to see how an ontological argument could be formulated without including this claim as one of its premises, since the distinguishing badge of the argument is the inference from the possibility of an absolutely perfect being to its actuality. It must be unlikely then, if my criticism of these six versions is correct, that there is any way of formulating the argument that avoids this fallacy.

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

In a recent paper T. D. J. Chappell advances the thesis that orthodox Christianity is incompatible with consequentialism.1 His thesis is grounded on a number of premises; I shall, however, confine my criticism to only one of them, i.e. a consequentialist God could not possibly have created a world. Here is his argument:

According to Anselm, God is understood as a being than which nothing greater can be conceived. God is the greatest possible being. In this tradition, which has come to be spoken of as Anselmian theology or perfect being theology, God is conceived or described as that spiritual or personal being who manifests the greatest possible array of unique and compossible great making attributes and characteristics that distinguishes God from all other beings and assures God's status as the only being who is worthy of unconditional worship. This notion of God as the absolutely perfect being is one that is shared by classical and neoclassical theists alike.