The canonical texts of Early Buddhism describe and explain a way to achieve a goal. What the goal is is not immediately clear; many different descriptions are given of it, and these descriptions can be variously interpreted. It is to some extent easier to find out what is the way to achieve the goal; the texts contain frequently repeated lists of stages on this Way. The best way of starting a consideration of the nature of the goal and its moral status is to examine the most important of these lists.

In 1944–45 a survey was carried out on the topic of religion in a London borough, and in 1960 the survey was repeated in the same borough. In both 1945 and 1960 over forty per cent of those attending Anglican services said that they did not believe in a life after death. When due allowance has been made for the relative unreliability of public opinion sampling, it is nevertheless obvious that incredulity on this issue is widespread and probably increasing, even within the Church. There are at least two main reasons for this—that personal immortality is commonly held to be incompatible with the scientific view of man, and the apparent irrelevance of the belief for life in the here and now. The question in people's minds today is no longer what the Bible says about immortality, nor what the churches teach on the subject [if indeed they teach anything at all]. These questions can be answered by reading the Bible and by consulting manuals of doctrine. The problem is this: How is it possible in any meaningful sense to believe in a life after death in the 'sixties of the twentieth century?

My object in this paper is to consider what relevance, if any, current analyses of probability have to problems of religious belief. There is no doubt that words such as ‘probable’ are used in this context; what is doubtful is that this use can be analysed as other major uses of such words can. I shall conclude that this use cannot be so analysed and hence, given the preponderance of the other uses that can, that it is misleading.

On Patterson Brown's analysis of the logic of Judeo-Christian morality, God's will is the criterion of what is right. The believer simply commits himself to or chooses God's will to the exclusion of all other criteria. Brown does not say that to obey God is a moral duty which always overrides other moral considerations. Nor does he say that God ‘transcends’ human morality either in the sense that he is the perfect exemplar of human standards or that the standard he exhibits and requires meets but also exceeds human standards. Nor does he say that God's will is to be obeyed over against morality per se. Rather, his view is that for the believer God's will is the standard of all moral judgments. For the believer, if and only if God commands something is it right. God ‘transcends’ human morality in the sense that his will need not accord with human standards.

Flew's challenge to the religious believer asks him to specify what would count as a disproof for, e.g. ‘There is a God’. A statement of such a specifiable condition I called an ‘empirical denial’. In my earlier paper I was concerned to show that a statement is a statement whether or not it has such an empirical denial. I was not particularly concerned to show that there are some statements which do not have an empirical denial; my concern was to show that it is not essential that they do. It was in connection with this point that the statement ‘John loves Mary’ was discussed. But this very same example may indeed serve as an example of a statement for which, in certain complex situations, there is no empirical denial. That is, in some circumstances, no matter what empirical conditions are specified, when the statement ‘John loves Mary’ is made (if they are not merely necessary conditions), they could obtain and still John might love Mary, as the developing situation would make clear. If the condition specified is that John is cruel to Mary and shows no concern for her, details could always emerge in such a situation to explain why, even though he loved her, he was cruel and showed no concern. And so on.

In an incisive critique of Professor Hick's Evil and the God of Love, Professor Puccetti claims to ‘carry the campaign as well as the battle’—i.e. to show that, with respect to evil, theists

‘are either “explaining it away” or saying it cannot be explained at all. And in both cases they are in effect admitting they have no rational defence to offer. Which means that despite appearances they really are abandoning the battlefield.’