No single argument here is meant to compel. What follows is a
convergence — several independent lines pointing the same way,
none decisive on its own, and together harder to set aside than any
one of them. Saint Paul claims this is how it has always been: that
God’s “eternal power and deity” are “clearly
perceived in the things that have been made” (Rom. 1:20). Not
proved by a syllogism. Perceived, in what is already there.
Why There Is Anything at All
The universe did not have to exist. Nothing about it explains why it
is here rather than absent; it is the sort of thing that could have
failed to be. Whatever is like that needs something outside itself
to account for it.
The objection is that this exempts God from the rule it just laid
down. It does not, because the rule was never “everything has
a cause.” It was that whatever could have failed to
exist needs a cause. God is not one more item of that kind
— that is the entire content of the word, as the companion
page on
what we mean by “God”
sets out. To ask who made God is to ask who made the thing that by
definition was not made.
Could the universe itself be that thing? It could, if it showed the
marks of it — not changing, not assembled from parts, not one
item among others. It shows none of them. It changes constantly, it
is made of parts, and every part of it depends on the rest.
A World That Can Be Understood
Darwin explained the appearance of design in living things, and
explained it well. He did not explain, and never claimed to, why
there is a universe whose laws hold steady enough for evolution to
work in.
That is what fine-tuning presses. The constants governing physics
could have taken almost any values, and nearly all of them give a
universe with no chemistry, no stars, nothing that lasts long
enough to matter. The multiverse answers by multiplying universes
until ours is unremarkable — a very large purchase,
unobserved and by its own construction unobservable, made to avoid
a conclusion. And the reply that we could only find ourselves in a
life-permitting universe is true but idle: that I could only notice
the firing squad missed if it had missed does not make the missing
unremarkable.
Stranger still is that the universe can be understood at all.
Mathematics worked out for its own sake, with no eye on the world,
keeps turning out to describe the world exactly. That is not what
you would expect of brute matter with no mind behind it.
The Weight of Right and Wrong
Evolution can explain why we feel obligation. It cannot
explain why some things are wrong. Those are two different
claims, and the objection slides from one to the other without
noticing.
If the moral sense is only inherited instinct, then torturing a
child is not wrong; it is merely something we are built to dislike,
as we are built to dislike bitter flavors. Almost nobody believes
this, including those who say it. The man who calls morality an
evolved instinct still means it — means it about the world,
not about his own wiring — when he says cruelty is wrong.
Where the Objection Is Strongest
The problem of evil is the hardest thing said against belief in
God, and a believer who pretends otherwise forfeits his
credibility. Three things can be said in reply, and the first is a
concession.
Freedom is worth its price. Love that could not be refused would
not be love, and a world of creatures able to love is worth more
than a world of well-behaved machinery. But the objection is right
that this covers the torturer and not the tumor. It answers the
evil we do. It does not answer the evil that simply happens.
Second, what looks purposeless from inside time may not be. We see
a fragment and pronounce on the whole. This is a real answer, and a
limited one; offered by itself to someone in grief it is cold
comfort, and should not be offered by itself.
The third is not an argument, and it is where Christianity actually
differs from every other answer on offer. The claim is not that God
explains suffering from a safe distance, but that He entered it
— was betrayed, tortured, and executed — and turned it,
in the Resurrection, toward redemption. That does not make evil
good or grief lighter. It means the sufferer is not addressing
someone who has never been where he is.
Why God Does Not Simply Appear
If God appeared unmistakably to everyone tomorrow, belief would
stop being a free response and become a conclusion forced. A God
who wants love rather than mere assent has reason to decline to
overwhelm. Room to refuse is a condition of love, which is why the
evidence is sufficient for those willing and resistible by those
not.
As for the many religions: that they conflict shows most are wrong
somewhere, not that all are wrong everywhere. Physicians disagree,
and medicine is not thereby false. What is striking, once you look,
is not how much the traditions differ about who is divine but how
completely they agree about what ‘divine’ means.
The pattern of gaps closing is real, and worth conceding. But every
explanation science supplies is an explanation of how something
within the universe works. None of them touches the question of why
there is a universe with anything in it to explain.
The Reply in Brief
No line here forces assent, and none is offered as forcing it. The
claim is only that a universe which did not have to exist, which
runs on constants that did not have to permit us, which yields to
mathematics it had no reason to obey, and in which cruelty is
actually wrong, is better accounted for by a Creator than by
nothing at all.
The problem of evil remains the strongest objection, and it is not
dissolved here. It is weighed. Set against it is a world containing
creatures who can genuinely love, and a God who did not stay out of
the wreckage but was nailed to it.
The full essays take each strand further than a panel allows: the
argument from contingency in the form Aquinas actually gave it, the
fine-tuning figures and what the multiverse would have to cost, why
the moral argument survives every evolutionary account of moral
feeling, and the long Christian literature on suffering —
Augustine, Aquinas, and the modern replies to Hume.