It is with diffidence that I venture to give this lecture because the distinction and religious conviction of those who have given it in the past is well known. Moreover, they were able, through their learning, to draw on the great reservoir of thinking by the multitude of gifted men who have devoted their lives to religious and philosophical studies since the early days of civilization whereas my own studies have not only been in different, more secular, fields but have been trivial in duration and depth.

Relativism has always proved tempting when people who had previously lived a settled and complacent life have suddenly been confronted with new and different ideas or practices. The obvious example is the ferment produced in ancient Athens when the contrast with Eastern ideas chronicled by Herodotus showed vividly that not everyone thought like the Athenians, or even the Greeks. The result was a far-reaching scepticism. Protagoras, according to Plato, maintained that man is the measure of all things and anything ‘is to me as it appears to me and is to you as it appears to you’.

Process theology is far less prominent in Britain than in its country of origin, but its central doctrine of a developing God would prove, I think, to be held by many British theologians if one made enquiry. Professor Keith Ward may show which way the wind is blowing when he writes in his recent book Rational Theology and the Creativity of God: ‘only if God is temporal, can he be the free creator of a universe of free creatures; only if he is eternal, can he possess that necessity which is the foundation of the world; only if he is dipolar, can he be both’. To that extent he accepts the Whitehead-Hartshorne position. Why has the the absolute timelessness of God seemed obvious so regularly to thinking religious people down the ages? It must be, I shall say, that they have felt themselves in touch somehow with another world, or rather another state, in which time is absolutely transcended. But I am not concerned only with that in this article. My business is to suggest that process theology is important for a number of reasons. I shall return to Ward's book at the end.

Karl Barth is the foremost modern exponent of the view that Jesus Christ is the decisive, unrepeatable and unsurpassable ‘locus’ of divine revelation, and that consequently it is only by following the way of Christ that we can possibly hope for the ultimate salvation of mankind. This view of Barth's finds expression in the following passage:

(1) In this paper I want to discuss a certain way of understanding the concept of religion which I think is more satisfactory than other ways that have often been proposed in the literature, arguing, in brief, that the way to an adequate understanding does not lie through an analysis of the concept of ‘worship’ or ‘the worshipful’ or any notions derivative from these, as some writers have maintained, but instead through a comparative analysis of the various concepts of a ‘highest good’, thought of as a final salvation or ‘liberation’ for its seekers, found in the major religions. I shall also discuss some of the advantages of this way of regarding religion, as well as what I take to be certain of its consequences for the philosophy of religion. The discussion will also lay the groundwork for a pragmatic justification of religious belief (where ‘religious belief’ is understood in the way to be suggested), and will, I hope, help to shed light on the question of what would constitute a religiously satisfactory notion of the highest good.

The last thirty years have seen a number of major contributions to the philosophical discussion of the possibility and character of an ‘ethics of belief’. In so far as the concern was focused on the problem of what constitutes ‘sufficient’ or ‘insufficient evidence’, the question of the ‘ethics of belief’ has turned into the current philosophical preoccupation with the question of the character of ‘rationality’ and the possibility of criteria of rationality which are either universal or at least cross-contextual. On the other hand, in so far as the concern was focused on the debated thesis that ‘believing is subject to moral appraisal (including the determination of “duties” to believe)’ the question of the ‘ethics of belief’ is with us today as the double inquiry into the question of the ‘will to believe’ and the relation of belief to action. Though the two concerns are not entirely separable, I will pay more explicit attention in this paper to the latter one in assessing some recent claims concerning the position held by John Henry Newman on these matters. After addressing some of the main points in the modern philosophical discussion of the ‘ethics of belief’, I will attempt to clarify Newman's place in the ‘ethics of belief’ discussion and argue that recent evaluations of Newman misrepresent his position in crucial ways and obscure his contributions to that discussion.

I do not agree with Professor M. M. Sharif in his book About Iqbal and His Thought that Allama Iqbal's concept of God passed through three stages, and that at one stage he identified him with ‘Beauty’. This may be said on the basis of his few earlier poems (included in Baang-i-Darā), but they never purported to give any idea about God; they were at best ghazals on nature and offered only stray reflections. Iqbal properly developed his concept of God in his lecture entitled ‘The Conception of God and The Meaning of Prayer’ (included in The Reconstruction of Religious Thought in Islam). I may mention at the outset that I am going to base my appraisal on the said lecture of Iqbal.

J. L. Mackie's posthumous book on the philosophy of religion, The Miracle of Theism, contains a number of detailed criticisms of versions of inductive arguments for the existence of God, contained in my own book The Existence of God. In this paper I argue that what I take to be the three main criticisms have no force.

Alvin Plantinga, in some essays recently published and presented, defends the rationality of a belief in the existence of God on the grounds that it is foundationally justified. Though this belief does not appear to be justified were we to adopt what Plantinga calls classical foundationalism, there are other, less restrictive (and presumably at least equally plausible) versions of foundationalism. Plantinga urges that we recognize that a belief in the existence of God can be warranted within one of these frameworks.

Dale Lugenbehl, in ‘Can the Argument from Evil Be Decisive After All?’ provides a powerful defence of the argument from evil against several theistic objections to it. In my opinion, however, he has failed to prove his case. The question of the consistency of the amount of evil existing in the world with the existence of God remains, after Lugenbehl's argument, exactly where it was before – in a state of uncertainty.