F. H. Bradley (1846–1924) did not write extensively or systematically on the philosophy of religion, and much of what he did write has the character of either tentative speculation or the pre-emptive rebuttal of potential misinterpretations that might threaten his general philosophical position. ‘I admit that on this subject I never had much to say’ (ETR 428) he warns. But such a remark should not discourage us from considering his views on this topic, since the disclaimer is typically Bradleian, and more reflective of his high standards for what is required in order to claim to have something to say about some matter than of any genuine lack of opinion. On closer inspection we find that he has, scattered throughout his work, a great many important things to say about this subject.

In her essay entitled ‘Heathen Darkness’,1 the anthropologist Mary Douglas has exposed one of the most prevalent modern misunderstandings of ‘primitive’ societies, the myth of primitive piety:

It seems to be an important premise of popular thinking about us, the civilised, and them, the primitives, that we are secular, sceptical and frankly tending more and more away from religious belief, and that they are religious, (p. 73)

If by personal immortality one means that the soul is naturally eternal and passes as a substance through physical death to another life, then the answer to this question is a firm No. Both Alfred North Whitehead and his most famous student Charles Hartshorne disavowed such personal immortality as philosophically incompatible with the basic tenets of process thought. For Whitehead, and all philosophers who claim to follow him, process is the ultimate metaphysical generality describing how actual entities (occasions) instantiate themselves from the causality of entities in their past to then become objectified as they influence successor actual entities. To claim that there are multiple exceptions to the sway of universal process in the form of eternal souls introduces a radical and unacceptable philosophical incoherence into the Whiteheadian metaphysical system. Hartshorne held that a belief in eternal souls was not only incompatible with process thought but also compromised the philosophy of Berkeley, Descartes and Kant. In addition, he considered such belief bad religion and argued forcibly against it.

In such a chain too, or succession of objects, each part is caused by that which preceded it, and causes that which succeeds it. Where then is the difficulty? But the WHOLE, you say, wants a cause. I answer, that the uniting of these parts into a whole, like the uniting of several distinct counties into one kingdom, or several distinct members into one body, is performed merely by an arbitrary act of the mind, and has no influence on the nature of things. Did I show you the particular causes of each individual in a collection of twenty particles of matter, I should think it very unreasonable, should you afterwards ask me, what was the cause of the whole twenty. This is sufficiently explained in explaining the cause of the parts. (David Hume)

This paper will examine a descriptive approach in philosophy of religion which portrays authentic religious belief as necessarily characterized by an independence from the world. Such independence is, moreover, claimed to be inextricably linked to self-renunciation through the self attaining a perspective on the world as a whole, a seeing of everything sub specie aeternitatis. This idea of a ‘perspective’ is supposed to elucidate the character of religious belief, to show just how it is distinctive from other forms of belief.

The metaphysics of time, though almost always diverting, is rarely discomforting. I can wonder what time is, come up only with conundrums, and yet still feel intimately acquainted with time by way of my mundane experience. Familiarity in this case breeds contempt of metaphysics. If I were to pose the question of time as Augustine posed it, however, I would find no refuge in time's familiarity, for time's familiarity is part of what has come into question. My ordinary experience of time may not be of time after all. Facing such a possibility is discomforting, but it may also be the beginning of wisdom. In Augustine's hands, metaphysical questions turn back upon their owners. What I ask of time I ask of myself. The wisdom comes, if it comes at all, in coming to understand the demand knowledge of the world has made upon my self-knowledge. There is nothing worth knowing that does not in some way transform the knower. Augustine hints at the transformation called for in the knowledge of time. It is disturbingly profound.

In a number of ways, western Christianity has taken a genuine interest in the thought-world and practice of Buddhism over the last few decades. Process theologians have found much to enthuse them in the Buddhist rejection of substance as a fundamental category and Christian mysticism has discovered common ground with Buddhist understandings of ultimate Reality. Buddhist–Christian dialogue has been occurring at many levels, initiated for the most part by Christians.

One of the most vexing problems in the philosophy of religion is the existence of moral evil in light of an omnipotent and wholly good deity. A popular mode of diffusing the argument from evil lies in the appeal to free will. Traditionally it is argued that there is a strong connection, even a necessary one, between the ability to exercise free will and the occurrence of wrong-doing. Transworld depravity, as characterized by Alvin Plantinga, is a concept which has gone far to explain this relationship. Essentially, the notion of transworld depravity involves the claim that in any world where a person is significantly free that person would, on some occasion, act morally wrongly, or as Plantinga phrases it: ‘If S' were actual, P would go wrong with respect to A’ (where S' is a possible world, P is a person and A is an action). Not only, Plantinga claims, is it possible that there are persons who suffer from transworld depravity, but ‘it is possible that everybody suffers from it’. If transworld depravity obtains, Plantinga notes, God ‘might have been able to create worlds in which moral evil is very considerably outweighed by moral good; but it was not within His power to create worlds containing moral good but no moral evil – and this despite the fact that He is omnipotent’. On this view, God could not instantiate perfect-person essences who would not ever sin. Although Plantinga argues that these instantiated beings are significantly free in that they could have done otherwise (i.e. not sinned), it does seem that his claim about transworld depravity amounts to a claim about transworld depravity amounts to a claim about the existence of a necessary connection obtaining between freedom and evil. For even though it makes sense to claim that an individual may have unactualized dispositions, to claim that everyone, past, present and future, has unactualized dispositions seems to be a significantly different claim. It is therefore difficult to see how this latter claim differs in substance from the claim of a necessary connection obtaining between the capacity for free will and the commission of evil acts.