The Problem of Evil

The following is the greatly extended version of a paper written for my apologetics and ethics class, with a good deal more detail and long quotations. As you will notice, it is heavily influenced by an amazing little book, The Doors of the Sea by David Bentley Hart, which is one of the most strikingly cogent and sensitive treatments of the problem of evil I have encountered.

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"How can a good, all-powerful God allow suffering and evil to exist?" This simple question, posed innocently and not-so-innocently innumerable times by children and philosophers alike, is undoubtedly the hardest one the Christian apologist has to grapple with, and a major reason for nonbelief among skeptics. If history has taught us anything, it is that this all-too-brief work will certainly not settle the question once and for all. But perhaps I can at least steer the conversation onto a slightly more constructive, edifying track.

Stating the problem

The Greek philosopher Epicurus was one of the first to state the problem: "Is God willing to prevent evil, but not able? Then he is not omnipotent. Is he able, but not willing? Then he is malevolent. Is he both able and willing? Then whence cometh evil? Is he neither able nor willing? Then why call him God?"¹ Philosopher John Mackie presents a similar argument in the form of a logical proof: "good is opposed to evil, in such a way that a good being always eliminates evil as far as it can, and...there are no limits to what an omnipotent thing can do. From these it follows that a good omnipotent thing eliminates evil completely, and then the propositions that a good omnipotent thing exists and that evil exists are incompatible."² This is the logical form of the problem of evil, which seeks to argue that the existence of evil is logically incompatible with God's existence.³ The softer evidential form only seeks to demonstrate that evil renders God's existence unlikely or unbelievable, or that "pointless evil" (which probably exists) is incompatible with theism.⁴ "Natural evil" (evil that does not appear to be due to the actions of free, morally responsible beings⁵) is an especially convincing example of "pointless evil", since there is no obvious agent to hold responsible for it except God the creator.

But entirely aside from its philosophical form, the problem of evil exists even more powerfully as an emotional/pastoral problem, the cry of a heart anguished by suffering and demanding to know why God allows tragedy, much of it apparently senseless to befall us.⁶ A father who lost his children in a tsunami, a woman who has just learned her cancer has returned, a man who suddenly loses his job and is unsure how he will provide for his family—these people are probably not making a philosophical argument against God's existence, and they certainly don't want an explanation of why God allows evil. They may even believe in God, but as the one who apparently stood by and allowed terrible tragedy to befall them. We must never so close ourselves off to the plight of others that we allow ourselves to discuss the philosophical form of the problem of evil in isolation; it never exists in such a pure state.

An even stronger form of the problem of evil is stated in Dostoevsky's classic novel The Brothers Karamazov, by the skeptical rationalist Ivan. Ivan's argument is striking for its deeply Christian background: he accepts God's existence and acknowledges that "all suffering will be healed and made up for, that all the humiliating absurdity of human contradictions will vanish like a pitiful mirage ... something so precious will come to pass that it will suffice for all hearts, for the comforting of all resentments, for the atonement of all the crimes of humanity, of all the blood they've shed; that it will make it not only possible to forgive but to justify all that has happened with men—but though all that may come to pass, I don't accept it. I won't accept it."⁷ Though he accepts God, Ivan cannot accept the world he has made or the terms of the salvation that he offers to men. Even though he concedes a future harmony that will justify all evil, in light of the sufferings of children Ivan rejects that harmony because of its monstrous, unjust cost: "It's not worth the tears of that one tortured child...if the sufferings of children go to swell the sum of sufferings which was necessary to pay for truth, then I protest that the truth is not worth such a price."⁸

Orthodox theologian David Bentley Hart comments: "What makes Ivan's argument so novel and disturbing is not that he simply accuses God of failing to save the innocent; in fact, he grants that in some sense God still will 'save' them... Rather, Ivan rejects salvation itself, insofar as he understands it, and on moral grounds. He rejects anything that would involve such a rescue—anything that would make the suffering of children meaningful or necessary."⁹ His objection is thus a powerful rebuke of attempts to logically justify the existence of evil, whether by appealing to a "greater good" or by arguing that the possibility of suffering is inherent to a world that supports life. Dostoevsky’s genius is that he sees not only that the history of suffering and evil is not morally intelligible, but "that it would be far more terrible if it were."¹⁰

If this is the case (as I am convinced it is), then a good deal of Christian theodicies fall on their face, insofar as they try to show that there is some divine plan that justifies the existence of evil, renders it meaningful or purposeful. If we are to learn anything from Ivan Karamazov, it is that suffering and evil are, must be, meaningless, purposeless, that there is no divine reason for their existence and that they are ultimately accidental to God's plan. God does not have the slightest need of evil to accomplish any of his purposes. This is because evil is not simply a tool in God's box of means, "but is only a shadow, a turning of the hearts and minds of rational creatures away from the light of God back toward the nothingness from which all things are called."¹¹ Thus there is no way that evil can supply any deficiency in God's goodness or power.¹² God does not will evil for anyone, nor does he will that anyone should perish. (Ezek 33:11, 2 Pet 3:9) Ivan's mistake, subtle though it may be, is assuming that evil and suffering are somehow necessary to bring about the future reconciliation, or that they contribute to it in any way.

Created freedom

What can be justified, then, is not the actual existence of evil, but the possibility of evil. This is the point of the "free will defense"—free will makes evil possible (though not necessary), but it is also indispensable to God's purposes for us.¹³ God created us from dirt, in his image, to enact his benevolent rule over the creation (Gen 1:26-28). Though we should be wary of peering too deep into the mind of God, we see throughout the Bible that he made us to know him—from Adam to Noah to Abraham to Moses (cf. Exo 33:11). The greatest miracle in the Biblical narrative is God taking on flesh and becoming one of us, to adopt us as his sons and daughters (Gal 4:4-7) and to know and be known by us (Gal 4:9), which is eternal life. (Jhn 17:3) "God has fashioned creatures in his image so that they might be joined in a perfect union with him in the rational freedom of love."¹⁴ I believe that God created us simply to love us and to be loved by us, as a father loves his children.

But the genuinely loving relationship God desires with his creatures requires that there really be someone to love besides himself—that there be not simply passive recipients but active reciprocators of his love, like him and yet other than him. So Isaac of Nineveh: "In his great love God was unwilling to restrict our freedom, even though he had the power to do so. He has left us to come to him by the love of our heart alone."¹⁵ In classical Christian teaching, one major consequence of the image of God in which we are created is that we share in his freedom, as the church father Irenaeus says: "Humanity was free from the beginning. For God is freedom and humanity was made in the image of God."¹⁶ And Gregory of Nyssa: "He who created human beings in order to make them share in his own fullness so disposed their nature that it contains the principle of all that is good, and each of these dispositions draws them to desire the corresponding divine attribute. So God could not have deprived them of the best and most precious of his attributes, self-determination, freedom."¹⁷ This freedom is what makes it possible for us to return God's love and realize the purpose for which we are made, but while we are not yet made perfect in faith and love (cf. 1 Jhn 4:16-19), it also makes it possible for us to separate ourselves from God as well as submit to him.

Yet because of the genuine other-ness of the creation from God, we cannot blame him for this misuse of liberty or hold him responsible for it—we can only blame ourselves. In the patristic and medieval understanding, evil is a privation of the good and a descent into uncreation and nonbeing, movement away from God, rather than something with positive existence. How can God, who calls to all men through the created order and the primordial longing for himself he has placed in our hearts, be blamed when we reject this call and turn away from him? Gregory of Nyssa, responding to this charge, states this in better words:

Thus God cannot be held responsible for evil, for he is the author of what is, and not what is not. It is he who made sight, not blindness ... And that without subjecting us to his good pleasure by any violent constraint. He did not draw us toward what is good against our will, as if we were an inanimate object. If when the light shines very brightly ... someone chooses to hide his eyes by lowering his eyelids, the sun is not responsible for the fact that he cannot see it.¹⁸

Thus evil is not a "cost" of creaturely freedom that is justified by the "greater good" it produces. For it to be a cost would mean that it naturally or necessarily follows from freedom, which it does not. The loving union of free creatures with himself is essentially part of his purpose for us; sin and death are "a contingency and an absurdity"¹⁹ and do not contribute to this purpose in any way. Is this freedom worth the risk? It is presumptuous and beyond our finite minds to set ourselves up as judges of this. So "the rejection of God on these grounds cannot really be a rational decision, but only a moral pathos," such as Ivan expresses.²⁰

Divine freedom

Some may argue that the view of creaturely freedom I have set forth compromises God's sovereignty over his creation. But this is to confuse God's sovereignty with his being the only free agent in the universe. The existence of genuinely free creatures does not in the least threaten God's status as all-powerful creator or providential, sovereign sustainer. In fact, it is ironically arrogant on our part to suggest that we could have such power over against God in the freedom he himself has given us. Is it not limiting of God to deny that he can "at once create freedom and also assure that no consequence of the misuse of that freedom will prevent him from accomplishing the good he intends in all things"?²¹

A discussion of God's absolute sovereignty is incomplete without also keeping in mind his absolute freedom and absolute transcendence. Remembering God's freedom is important first of all because it reminds us that our own freedom is only a finite reflection of the infinite freedom of the one whose image we bear. His transcendence (as most effectively expressed though the apophatic tradition that is unfortunately largely obscure to the west) is just as essential, for it reminds us that his ways are higher than our ways, his thoughts higher than our thoughts (Isa 55:9), and that it is foolish for us to try to confine God to the same web or logic of causality as his creatures.

Divine transcendence is what allows God's freedom and sovereignty to coexist with the limited freedom and sovereignty of his creatures. Such is his absolute, transcendent freedom that "in his omniscience, omnipotence, and transcendence of time, [he] can both allow created freedom its scope and yet so constitute the world that nothing can prevent him from bringing about the beatitude of His kingdom."²²  Simply affirming God's sovereignty without equally affirming his freedom and transcendence means denying both of these things by holding him responsible for absolutely everything that happens, with the catastrophic moral consequences that Ivan (along with numerous church fathers) glimpses. As Hart says:

When any meaningful difference between will and permission has been excluded, and when the transcendent causality of the creator God has been confused with the immanent web of causation that constitutes the world of our experiences, it becomes impossible to imagine that what God wills might not be immediately convertible with what occurs in time; and thus both the authority of Scripture and the justice of God must fall before the inexorable logic of absolute divine sovereignty.²³

If this view of things seems logically impossible, then I ask you to consider whether you have fully submitted your logic to the claims of God, or whether you make your concept of God subject to a system as constraining as that of the Jews who could not accept an upside-down kingdom inaugurated by a crucified Messiah or the Greeks who scorned the resurrection of the body as a pointless absurdity. Why should God's freedom or transcendence (not to mention love) be any less absolute and unconditional than his sovereignty? If your conception of God does not allow all of these things and more to be realized  to their utmost without being conditioned or limited by each other, then it is too small. In fact it is always too small, and the only appropriate way to affirm any proper theology is as the incomplete speculation of a finite image-bearer still being made perfect in faith.

In fact we must affirm the possibility of this view to guarantee the certainty of redemption but avoid making the creation in all its beauty and decay into "the work of one all-determining will",²⁴ and sin and death into instruments of God rather than enemies. It is squarely against this kind of theodicy that Ivan's objection is raised: "the moral rationality of Ivan's rebellion remains entirely unassailable...when it is set against those forms of theological fatalism that, having failed to understand the difference between primary and secondary—or transcendent and immanent—causality, defame the love and goodness of God out of a servile and unhealthy fascination with his 'dread sovereignty'."²⁵ The "solution" of ascribing the force of divine volition to everything that befalls man—even his eternal destiny—flatly contradicts the universal scope of redemption as set forth in verses like 1 John 2:2 and 1 Tim 2:4 and the goodness of God visible throughout Scripture. If the sovereignty of God is so meticulous that double predestination is true as claimed by Calvin, then his freedom, transcendence, and goodness become meaningless:

God would be the author of and so entirely beyond both good and evil, or at once both and neither, or indeed merely evil (which power without justice always is). The curious absurdity of all such doctrines is that, out of a pious anxiety to defend God's transcendence against any scintilla of genuine creaturely freedom, they threaten effectively to collapse that transcendence into absolute identity—with the world, with us, with the devil. For, unless the world is truly set apart from God and possesses a dependent but real liberty of its own analogous to the freedom of God, everything is merely a fragment of divine volition, and God is simply the totality of all that is and all that happens; there is no creation, but only an oddly pantheistic expression of God's unadulterated power. ... such a God, being nothing but will willing itself, would be no more than an infinite tautology—the sovereignty of glory displaying itself in the glory of sovereignty—and so an infinite banality.²⁶

Hidden within Ivan's objection to the world God has made is the prophetic voice of a truer, deeper, more subversive Christianity, a voice that cries out against all the injustice and absurdity manifested in death and evil. God is not worthy of worship simply because of his raw power or terrific glory, but because of his goodness and his divine love that direct his power and make his glory one to be ecstatically adored rather than dreaded. And all of these attributes are always fully expressed to those able to discern them, without impairing or qualifying each other. "For if indeed there were a God whose true nature—whose justice or sovereignty—were revealed in the death of a child or the dereliction of a soul or a predestined hell, then it would be no great transgression to think of him as a kind of malevolent or contemptible demiurge, and to hate him, and to deny him worship, and to seek a better God than he."²⁷

It is also worth mentioning that the traditional Calvinist answer to the problem of evil—that there is no distinction between divine permission and willing, and that God in his sovereign will somehow ordains evil as well as good yet somehow remains free from its moral taint—works only at the most philosophical level. It is no comfort at all (and may in fact do more harm than good) to tell someone reeling from tragedy and loss that their situation is a part of God's inscrutable plan and that they should simply rejoice in his glory rather than question his council. Hart scathingly rebukes such a theodicy:

Words we would not utter to ease someone else's grief we ought not to speak to satisfy our own sense of piety. ... Most of us would have the good sense to be ashamed to speak such words [i.e. that tragedy and suffering are a result of God's eternal, inscrutable, and righteous counsels]; we would recognize that they would offer no more credible comfort than the vaporings of the most idiotically complacent theodicy, and we would detest ourselves for giving voice to odious banalities and blasphemous flippancies. And this should tell us something. For if we would think it shamefully foolish and cruel to say such things in the moment when another's sorrow is most real and irresistibly painful, then we ought never to say them; because what would still our tongues would be the knowledge (which we would possess at the time, though we might forget it later) that such sentiments would amount not only to an indiscretion or words spoken out of season, but to a vile stupidity and a lie told principally for our own comfort, by which we would try to excuse ourselves for believing in an omnipotent and benevolent God. 

In the process, moreover, we would be attempting to deny...a knowledge central to the gospel: the knowledge of the evil of death, its intrinsic falsity, its unjust dominion over the world, its ultimate nullity; the knowledge that God is not pleased or nourished by our deaths, that he is not the secret architect of hell, that he has condemned all these things by the power of the cross; the knowledge that God is life and light and infinite love, and that the path that leads through nature and history to his Kingdom does not simply follow the contours of either nature or history, or obey the logic immanent to them, but is opened to us by way of the natural and historical absurdity—or outrage—of the empty tomb.²⁸

For if a Calvinistic theodicy were true and everything that happens is providentially willed by God for his glory according to the impenetrable mystery of his will, then why should anyone mourn or decry any evil at all? But rather, "blessed are those who mourn" (Matt 5:4), who raise a fist and freely shed tears at the absurdity of evil, suffering, and death, "for they will be comforted." If God himself is the one behind ours sufferings, then to whom can we pray for deliverance?

Other objections

In keeping with Ivan's objection, I have mostly addressed the problem of moral evil—what about natural evil? At this point the Enlightenment view of the universe as a finely-tuned machine, a "closed causal continuum",²⁹ which is the only one known even by a good many Christians, makes understanding difficult. In the New Testament, the word kosmos, "world" or "universe", is often used to refer to the present "order" that enslaves the creation and is opposed to God.³⁰ So the "world" hates Jesus (Jhn 15:18-19) and has been overcome by him (16:33); the devil is described as the "ruler of this world" (Jhn 12:31, 14:30, 16:11) or even the "god of this world" (2 Cor 4:4), which lies "in the power of the evil one" (1 Jhn 5:19). In the biblical imagination (and that of early and medieval Christianity), the world is not governed simply by fixed laws, but by spiritual powers (cf. Col 1:16, Eph 1:21), that is, angels.³¹ Yet some of these heavenly authorities have rebelled against God, and so the creation at large finds itself in a similar situation to humanity, fallen and longing for redemption, to be restored to its creator.

C.S. Lewis was a tentative proponent of this theory:

It seems to me, therefore, a reasonable supposition, that some mighty created power had already been at work for ill on the material universe, or the solar system, or, at least, the planet earth, before ever man came on the scene: and that when man fell, someone had, indeed, tempted him. This hypothesis is not introduced as a general 'explanation of evil': it only gives a wider application to the principle that evil comes from the abuse of free will. If there is such a power, as I myself believe, it may well have corrupted the animal creation before man appeared. ... The Satanic corruption of the beasts would therefore be analogous, in one respect, with the Satanic corruption of man. ... If this hypothesis is worth considering, it is also worth considering whether man, at his first coming into the world, had not already a redemptive function to perform.³²

Ronald Osborn echoes Lewis' view and likewise considers it to be the historically orthodox one: "there is a clear sense throughout the New Testament that we are living in a time of temporary dualism in which God has permitted certain parts of his creation—and not humans alone—the autonomy of radical freedom and even defiance, which God himself must in some sense struggle against."³³ Though strange and largely unknown to modern Christians, this perspective is not incompatible with the scientific one any more than rational and theological views on creation are with each other. Thus in the classical Christian understanding, there is arguably no separate category of "natural evil" that occurs apart from the actions of moral agents.

Another possible objection: if free will is essential to God's desire for union with us, and free will entails the possibility for evil, how can God promise a future paradise with no evil unless it is also devoid of free will? At this point an important distinction must be made between two kinds of freedom. We usually associate "freedom" with "free will": the ability to freely choose between alternatives. But a higher understanding of freedom is the freedom to become what we were made to be: "to be able to flourish as the kind of being one is, and so to attain the ontological good toward which one's nature is oriented; freedom is the unhindered realization of a complex nature in its proper end (natural and supernatural), and this is consummate liberty and happiness."³⁴ This is the kind of freedom which God enjoys absolutely, and in which we progressively grow through deification. Compared to this, the freedom to choose is actually a liability, a power that, if misused, hinders our progression toward this higher kind of freedom. It is a reflection of our incompleteness, our nature as "an animal who has received the vocation to become God."³⁵ In heaven, we will have no need to deliberate between possibilities; nothing will hinder us from enjoying God forever, which is true freedom.

This raises the obvious question: why did God not simply create us in this state of eschatological bliss to begin with and eliminate any possibility of evil and suffering? This may be the impetus for Ivan's false assumption: if God could have created a world without any evil but created this one instead, then evil must be necessary for his purposes somehow. This crucial question takes us onto very thin ice indeed. This is partly because there is nothing arbitrary in God's willing as in ours (as though his freedom meant, as it does for us, the obligation to deliberate and choose between an array of mutually exclusive alternatives), so it may not even be justifiable to speak about his actions in hypothetical terms.³⁶

For God is infinite actuality, the source and end of all being, the eternally good, for whom mere arbitrary "choice"—as among possibilities that somehow exceed his 'present' actuality—would be a deficiency, a limitation placed upon his infinite power to be God. His freedom is the impossibility of any force, pathos, or potentiality interrupting the perfection of his nature or hindering him in the realization of his own illimitable goodness, in himself and in his creatures.³⁷

Yet we can attempt to imagine God's reasons for creating as he did, while acknowledging that we are not in a position to pass judgment on what we do not understand, or constrain God's freedom by our rationalizing. Possibly (and very tentatively), if the creation were made in its final perfection, it would not really be other than God, but merely an extension of his will. Irenaeus, responding to the question, explains that by its very nature, the perfection God embodies and intends for us is the fruit of maturity:

It is precisely in this that God differs from humanity: God creates; humanity is created. He who creates is always the same, while they who are created must acknowledge a beginning, an intermediate state and a maturity ... They receive knowledge and progress towards God. For in so far as God is always the same, to that extent human beings founds in God will always be making progress toward God.³⁸

Because of this limitation not of God but of our own nature, "it was possible for God Himself to have made man perfect from the first, but man could not receive this, being as yet an infant."³⁹ He further says of the possibility of Adam and Eve being created perfect: "Their being good would be of no consequence, because they were so by nature rather than by will, and are possessors of good spontaneously, not by choice"⁴⁰ and goes on to ask, "how could you be God when you have not yet become human? How could you be complete when you have only just been created?"⁴¹

The justice of God

Yet till now I have not been answering the question posed by evil in a truly biblical way. The Bible's response to evil is not to explain it (or even the possibility of it), but to exhort us to join God in his ongoing defeat of the powers responsible. A theodicy which does nothing but justify the way things presently are can only succeed in explaining "why paradise is not a logical possibility"⁴²—hardly a praiseworthy end. The problem of evil cannot be resolved by rational explanation; the solution only becomes visible through the eyes of faith, when we learn to stop gainsaying God's works and to trust him (as in Isa 45:5-13), becoming part of the divine answer that is lived as well as believed. "Either one 'sees' that glory [even through horrific suffering and evil] or one does not—and in either case one may be moved by a love of the good. ... To believe in the infinite goodness of being, one must be able to see it, and this no mere argument can bring about."⁴³

So the final answer to the skeptic's question, "Why did God create the world as it is, and us as we are?" is this: to know and love him, with a love that is stronger than death. So Maximus the Confessor: "When God, who is absolute fullness, brought creatures into existence, it was not done to fulfil any need, but so that his creatures should be happy to share his likeness, and so that he himself might rejoice in the joy of his creatures as they draw inexhaustible upon the Inexhaustible."⁴⁴ Seeking rational answers becomes out of line if it keeps us from this divine vocation. It is terribly ironic for us to base our rejection of God on the fact that he made us able to reject him.

This is the challenge of the Christian: not simply to explain the world as it is, but to see and even dwell in the new creation that is emerging from the old by acquiring a merciful heart and learning to see the creation through the eyes of divine, universal love. "The Christian vision of the world...is not some rational deduction from empirical experience but is a moral and spiritual aptitude—or rather, a moral and spiritual labor."⁴⁵ This labor involves adopting a radically different perspective on the creation that overflows with love for all things; in Dostoevsky's novel, this perspective is exemplified by the saintly Father Zossima, who serves as a sort of living answer to Ivan's objection.⁴⁶ A passage from the writings of Isaac the Syrian further describes this otherworldly love:

What is a merciful heart? A heart aflame for all of creation, for men, birds, beasts, demons, and every created thing; the very thought or sight of them causes the merciful man's eyes to overflow with tears. The heart of such a man is humbled by the powerful and fervent mercy that has captured it and by the immense compassion it feels, and it cannot endure to see or hear of any suffering or any grief anywhere within creation. Hence he constantly lifts up tearful prayers for God's care and mercy upon even unreasoning brutes and enemies of truth and all who do him injury.⁴⁷

All this is in obedience to the Lord's command to "Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you." (Mat 5:44) Hart comments,

To see the world as it should be seen, and so to see the true glory of God reflected in it, requires the cultivation of charity, of an eye rendered limpid by love. Maximus the Confessor taught that it is only when one has learned to look upon the world with selfless charity that one sees the true inner essence—the logos—of any created thing, and sees how that things shines with the light of the one divine Logos that gives it being.⁴⁸

The Christian faith, in its truest form hidden within Ivan's objection, does not try to justify or make sense of suffering and death, but overcomes it. We are to carry within ourselves the paradoxical victory of 2 Cor 4:6-14 that does not only undo death but transforms it into the way to eternal life. In the victory of Christ death, the ultimate subversion of God's creation, has itself been subverted, "in order to change death, in whatever shape it comes, into an approach to life."⁴⁹ The incarnation, death, and resurrection of Christ bring about the freedom and redemption described in Romans 8:18-23, which is such that Paul is able to say, "I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us." Again, this is not to say that evil and suffering in any way contribute to this glory. "The cross of Christ is not, after all, simply an eternal validation of pain and death, but their overthrow."⁵⁰

Thus in the Christian gospel, the meaning of life (and meaninglessness of death) is found ultimately not in a rational explanation, but in the divine Logos (that is, meaning) who for our sake became man and tasted death in order to triumph over it. The comfort it offers in the midst of suffering is that "when I see the death of a child, I do not see the face of God but the face of his enemy."⁵¹ The gospel itself, as revealed in Jesus Christ, can be considered the most truly biblical answer to the problem of evil. Maximus the Confessor says powerfully: "Therefore the mystery of the Incarnation of the Word contains in itself the whole meaning of the riddles and symbols of Scripture, the whole significance of visible and invisible creatures. Whoever knows the mystery of the cross and the tomb knows the meaning of all things. Whoever is initiated into the hidden meaning of the resurrection knows the purpose for which God created everything in the beginning."⁵²

As one of the most timeless and powerful objections to Christianity in history, the problem of evil is a heart check for Christians, a test of whether their faith is well-balanced or predominantly intellectual. The over-hasty answers of past apologists serve as a humbling reminder of our limited powers of explanation and the need active faith in God. It is a sort of "spiritual hygiene" that points to the subversive theology of the gospel and exposes inadequate visions of it for what they are.⁵³ Though often disguised as a purely philosophical problem, it cannot be resolved simply by thinking and debating; it takes authentic faith to even glimpse the answer God has provided, which is why it will probably continue to be raised until Christ returns to put a final end to evil once and for all. In the face of the most awful evil, the most tragic suffering, and the nihilistic absurdity of death, we as Christians are called not merely to defend the justice of God, but to become it. (2 Cor 5:21)

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1. John Hospers, An Introduction to Philosophical Analysis (Abingdon, Oxford, United Kingdom: Routledge, 1990), 310.
2. C. Stephen Evans and R. Zachary Manis, Philosophy of Religion: Thinking About Faith (Downers Grove, IL: IVP Academic, 2009), 159–160.
3. Evans and Manis, Philosophy of Religion, 158.
4. Evans and Manis, Philosophy of Religion, 169.
5. Evans and Manis, Philosophy of Religion, 157.
6. Evans and Manis, Philosophy of Religion, 156–157.
7. Fyodor Dostoevsky, The Brothers Karamazov (New York: Barnes & Noble Books, 1995), 217.
8. Dostoevsky, The Brothers Karamazov, 225–226.
9. David Bentley Hart, The Doors of the Sea: Where was God in the Tsunami? (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2005), 40–41.
10. Hart, The Doors of the Sea, 44.
11. Hart, The Doors of the Sea, 73.
12. Hart, The Doors of the Sea, 74.
13. Evans and Manis, Philosophy of Religion, 163.
14. Hart, The Doors of the Sea, 82.
15. Isaac of Nineveh, Ascetic Treatises 81 in Olivier Clément, The Roots of Christian Mysticism: Texts from the Patristic Era with Commentary (New York: New City Press, 2014), 57.
16. Irenaeus, Against Heresies IV.37.4 in Clément, The Roots of Christian Mysticism, 81.
17. Gregory of Nyssa, Catechetical Orations 7 in Clément, The Roots of Christian Mysticism, 81.
18. Gregory of Nyssa, Catechetical Orations 5 in Clément, The Roots of Christian Mysticism, 86–87.
19. Hart, The Doors of the Sea, 68.
20. Hart, The Doors of the Sea, 69.
21. Hart, The Doors of the Sea, 83.
22. Hart, The Doors of the Sea, 83.
23. Hart, The Doors of the Sea, 90.
24. Hart, The Doors of the Sea, 68.
25. Hart, The Doors of the Sea, 89.
26. Hart, The Doors of the Sea, 90–91.
27. Hart, The Doors of the Sea, 91–92.
28. Hart, The Doors of the Sea, 99–101.
29. Hart, The Doors of the Sea, 49.
30. Hart, The Doors of the Sea, 64.
31. Hart, The Doors of the Sea, 48.
32. C.S. Lewis, "The Problem of Pain" in The Complete C.S. Lewis Signature Classics (New York: HarperCollins, 2002), 632.
33. Ronald E. Osborn, Death Before the Fall: Biblical Literalism and the Problem of Animal Suffering (Downers Grove, IL: IVP Academic, 2014), 144.
34. Hart, The Doors of the Sea, 71.
35. Words of Basil of Caesarea, quoted by Gregory Nazianzen, Eulogy of Basil the Great, Oration 43, 48 in Clément, The Roots of Christian Mysticism, 76.
36. Hart, The Doors of the Sea, 108.
37. Hart, The Doors of the Sea, 71–72.
38. Irenaeus, Against Heresies IV.11.2 in Clément, The Roots of Christian Mysticism, 87.
39. Irenaeus, "Why man was not made perfect from the beginning", Against Heresies IV.38.1, < http://newadvent.org/fathers/0103438.htm> (31 March 2015).
40. Irenaeus, " Men are possessed of free will", Against Heresies IV.37.6, < http://newadvent.org/fathers/0103437.htm> (31 March 2015).
41. Irenaeus, Against Heresies IV.39.2 in Clément, The Roots of Christian Mysticism, 87.
42. Hart, The Doors of the Sea, 58.
43. Hart, The Doors of the Sea, 88–89.
44. Maximus the Confessor, Centuries on Charity III.46 in Clément, The Roots of Christian Mysticism, 32.
45. Hart, The Doors of the Sea, 58.
46. Hart, The Doors of the Sea, 58.
47. Isaac the Syrian, Ascetical Homilies 81 in Hart, The Doors of the Sea, 59.
48. Hart, The Doors of the Sea, 60.
49. Clément, The Roots of Christian Mysticism, 42.
50. Hart, The Doors of the Sea, 80.
51. Hart, The Doors of the Sea, 103–104.
52. Maximus the Confessor, "Ambigua" in Clément, The Roots of Christian Mysticism, 40.
53. Hart, The Doors of the Sea, 43–44.

Animal Suffering and the "Cosmic Fall"

Last Sunday night at my interchurch small group, beginning from the subject of the end of Dietrich Bonhoeffer's life, the question was raised: "Why is there death? Why does God allow death, pain, and suffering in His 'good' creation? And why do these things affect not only sinful humans, but uncomprehending and morally neutral animals, and even the forces of nature?" The question, it turned out, was one of those Pandora's boxes that simply cannot be put away once it is asked. The result was some of the most heated discussion we've ever had in that group. (I'm thankful that we managed to keep it mostly charitable)

The discussion was basically most of the group espousing and defending the idea that part of the "curse", God's just punishment for Adam and Eve's terrible sin in Genesis 3, was a "cosmic fall" that caused not just humans but also the rest of creation to become subject to death and decay, myself strongly opposing this thesis, and another friend with lots of questions trying to adjudicate between these views. Given that I express myself much better in writing after a few days to process, I decided against trying to persuade people then and there in favor of writing this post. (Which, incidentally, contains much that I was going to write about in my Gospel series)

In a way, this discussion on animal suffering and "natural evil" was perfectly timed as it came shortly after I got a long-desired book on just this subject, Death Before the Fall by Ronald Osborn. (Previously quoted here) The longer first part of the book is his somewhat heavy-handed answer to biblical literalists who refute evolution and an old earth using a strictly literal, scientific reading of Genesis 1-2 (which contained some interesting points but was not overall terribly useful for me), but the second part was his honest meditations on the problem of animal suffering. Given the magnitude of this question and its close relation with the "problem of evil", it's understandable that he doesn't try to state many firm conclusions, but he takes the discussion in a healthier direction that I overall agree with.

In structuring my own thoughts on animal suffering, and the "cosmic fall" hypothesis often used to explain it, I'm deliberately avoiding any discussion of the age of the earth and the truth of evolution (which I am planning on addressing later anyway). I'm instead trying to get into an "inner-biblical" understanding (that is, what the biblical authors and their contemporaries would have thought) as much as I can.

A note on Hebrew ontology/cosmology

Though many Christians would deny the reality of evolution (see how I promised not to mention it again?) as an unjustified encroachment of modern, scientific thinking on the truth of Scripture, scientific thinking can also affect our take on Scripture in more subtle ways. Consider, for instance, our generally rational view of the universe as operating by mathematically describable natural laws. The laws of mechanics explain everyday motion; the law of gravity explains why things fall, why the earth is round, and why it orbits the sun; the laws of electromagnetism account for much of our modern technologies; and so on. Of course most Christians are on guard against naturalism, or the view that these laws and the matter they describe constitute the whole of reality. We confess the existence of an immortal, invisible God who wrote these laws, is not controlled by them, and can suspend them as He wishes to accomplish His purposes. But these laws describe the way things "normally" behave. If we desire a strictly "biblical" ontology (philosophy of being), this will not do.

To begin with a point I make often, ANE ontology was not material (that is, something "existing" did not mean its consisting of a set of atoms with a position, orientation, and velocity) but functional; something "existed", to quote John H. Walton in his helpful description, "by virtue of its having a function in an ordered system", namely the well-ordered cosmos. ANE creation myths aren't concerned with the material origins of the cosmos so much as the functional origins. They primarily consist of a creator deity creating lesser deities (often by birth or other such analogues of human life) and giving them functions; to be the sky, the storm, the water, the fertile earth, etc. Again, these things are not thought of in material terms but in terms of their functions, their contributions to the working, ordered system of society.

Of course, we can't assume the ancient Hebrews thought just like their contemporaries; we know for a fact that they did not. I don't think they defined Yahweh strictly in terms of his functions (except maybe, circularly, the function of existing: "I AM WHO I AM." [Exo 3:14]), nor did they view Him as creating sub-deities to govern the functions of the cosmos. But it is more likely that the Hebrews did think of God as creating functionaries, not matter in the modern sense (albeit impersonal functionaries that totally obeyed His word). If we read Genesis 1 and 2 as an explanation of where the material sun, moon, earth and stars came from, why life exists on earth, etc., we are missing the precise point the text is trying to make: God created all that was created not to follow scientific laws that govern the universe, but to serve an ordained function in His ordered cosmos. It's a much more personal view of the universe than we have today.

Besides this, in the ancient Near Eastern cultures from which the ancient Hebrews arose, there was no distinction between the "natural" world in which we live, and the "supernatural" plane in which the gods lived. Walton explains how this works for the sun/sun-god:

The cosmic deities were manifest in that element of the cosmos with which they were associated, and they had some jurisdiction there. Sun gods were active in and through the sun—but they did not create the sun, at least in the material terms that we are used to thinking in. ... Existence is much more closely bound with function and role. Consequently, that the sun and sun god function together and that their roles coincide suggest a modified "creative" role. The birth of the sun god is coterminous with the origin of the sun(neither functions/exists without the other), thus explaining the oft-mentioned correspondence between theogony and cosmogony. Though the god is the controlling party in the functioning partnership, the god has no existence separate from, or outside, the sun. The sun is the manifestation of the god and the expression of the god's attributes. The god is the power behind the sun. ... In the ancient world the origins are inseparable from operations. Hence cosmogony, cosmology, theogony, and theology are all inextricably intertwined.

Again, there are big differences between the ANE and Hebrew views. Yahweh was seen, in stark contrast to the gods of the surrounding nations, as transcendent, not confined to any particular function, but the creator of all the functions. The second commandment (Exo 20:4-6) is not simply an application of the first but a rebuke to the absurd pagan notion that the true God who created everything could be depicted and contained in a figure created by creaturely hands. But there are also similarities: the modern, scientific view in which mathematical laws describe how the universe "normally" is unless God steps in bears little resemblence to the ancient notion of an immanent God "in [whom] we live and move and have our being" (Acts 17:28). Or the God who displays the knowledge of Him in the stars and makes the sun run its course like a man on his wedding day or a champion runner. (Psa 19) Or the God of Psalm 104 who makes the clouds His chariot, waters the mountains, grows grass for the cattle, and so on. Perhaps the great tragedy of the modern, scientific worldview is that it threatens not our capacity to believe in miracles, but the premodern sense of divine wonder that permeated all things.

The upshot (no, I wasn't just rambling): in the Hebrew cosmological view, the creation is not some semi-independent entity that normally runs "on its own" when God doesn't reach in. He doesn't have to reach in because He is already very much at home in governing His creation. Even man's exercise of his God-given free will is subject to this government, for sovereignty does not mean crowding out every other agent. Based on this, I assert that it does not make biblical sense to think about death the way we tend to—as an alien entity with a life of its own that somehow broke into the creation to "change the rules", cause havoc, and subvert God's dominion, outside His control, and that needs to be slain. To do so is to confuse biblical metaphor with the reality it describes.

Death (physical death) is described in the Old Testament more simply (and Augustinian-ly). It is simply the absence of life, specifically, the breath of life. Ishmael and the patriarchs each died by "breathing his last" and being gathered to his people (Gen 25:8,17; 35:29; 49:33; RSV, see also Jesus' death in Mar 15:37,39; Luk 23:46). God brings Adam to life by breathing the breath of life into him (Gen 2:7), and states man's mortality by saying, "My spirit shall not abide in man for ever, for he is flesh" (the words for "spirit" and "breath" are interchangeable in Hebrew, as in Greek). In Psalm 104:29, speaking of the animals, the Psalmist says, "when thou takest away their breath, they die and return to their dust." In the Old Testament view, the only thing separating living creatures (man and the animals) from dust is the life-giving breath (Spirit) of God.

The "cosmic fall"

With that said, it should be a bit clearer why I think reading a "cosmic fall" into the Old Testament, before which everything was perfect, is nonsense. There is simply no way to interpret such an event as being a consequence of human sin—to blame it on us. There is no logical way to argue that the first sin could have somehow radically altered the physiological structure of lions, edited biological processes to allow for disease, changed meteorological and geological patterns to make natural disasters possible, and so on. It's nonsense. It simply does not follow at all.

The alternative (and the view my friends were arguing) is that God made such changes in response to Adam and Eve's sin. These changes accompanied His curses pronounced on them in Genesis 3:14-19; because of Adam's role as the representative head or God-appointed ruler over creation, and because of the awful seriousness of their sin, God was entirely just in imposing such a punishment. Man's fate became the fate of all creation; it was "subjected to futility" by God (Rom 8:20) so that all of creation would be redeemed along with sinful man (8:21). So the whole creation groans in travail along with us, (8:22-23) waiting for this redemption from the grievous evil wrought by the sin of Adam.

This is where expressing myself in writing helps; I disagree with this view so strongly and for so many reasons that they get jumbled up and become incoherent when I try to argue against it verbally.

First, this view, though justifying God's action in cursing the creation by invoking His "justice", forgets an extremely basic axiom of all justice: justice only punishes the guilty. No matter how much you play up the seriousness of Adam and Eve's sin, no matter how guilty you make them out to be (a separate matter that I won't get into here), this still in no way justifies punishing uncomprehending, morally neutral animals (much less plants and forces of nature) for the sins of the first humans, no matter how bad those sins were. There is not some threshold of "bad"-ness after which the punishment of a sin is justly allowed to spill over to others. The sheer obviousness of this makes it hard for me to understand how anyone could question it. You may protest (as theologians have done) that God struck the creation to teach man a moral lesson about his sin, but this in no way lessens the infraction of justice. It's like a father who, to teach his son a lesson about obedience and the combustibility of fire, throws the family cat into the furnace. The son will learn a lesson, of course; but what will he learn about his father?

Further, even besides this basic misunderstanding, this view depends on the misconception of "God's justice" as basically being His necessity to punish sin. it is not. As I have previously argued, God's justice is not something negative (opposition to sin and a determination to repay it) but something positive that is compromised or destroyed by sin and which God desires to restore. It is the fair, righteous, and compassionate administration of authority, of which dealing with wrongdoing is only one piece. God's justice is not "in tension" with His mercy; they are both blessings that He wants to bestow on His people and restore in His creation, but which require punishment for those who oppose them. God's "justice" is terrible for those who continue to rebel against Him, but it is so much more sweet for those who are His. We must not allow ourselves to forget this positive picture of justice as something to be desired and sought after, not just something Jesus saves us from so we don't have to experience it.

The upshot of this is that God's justice is not simply a license to take arbitrarily harsh measures against sin or the basis of divine voluntarism (the view that whatever God does, no matter how awful it seems to us, is automatically right because God is the one who does it). It does not stand on its own in conflict with His "nice" attributes like this. It is a part of His plan to redeem all things, so that Amos, in calling Israel to repent and turn back to God, can say that "But let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream." (5:24) The same Isaiah who prophesies that the Messiah "will not fail or be discouraged till he has established justice in the earth" (42:4) gives one of the most beautiful passages linking the work of this Messiah to an act of restoration that goes beyond humans to the animal kingdom (emphasis added to this part):

There shall come forth a shoot from the stump of Jesse, and a branch shall grow out of his roots. And the Spirit of the LORD shall rest upon him, the spirit of wisdom and understanding, the spirit of counsel and might, the spirit of knowledge and the fear of the LORD. And his delight shall be in the fear of the LORD. He shall not judge by what his eyes see, or decide by what his ears hear; but with righteousness he shall judge the poor, and decide with equity for the meek of the earth; and he shall smite the earth with the rod of his mouth, and with the breath of his lips he shall slay the wicked. Righteousness shall be the girdle of his waist, and faithfulness the girdle of his loins. The wolf shall dwell with the lamb, and the leopard shall lie down with the kid, and the calf and the lion and the fatling together, and a little child shall lead them. The cow and the bear shall feed; their young shall lie down together; and the lion shall eat straw like the ox. The sucking child shall play over the hole of the asp, and the weaned child shall put his hand on the adder's den. They shall not hurt or destroy in all my holy mountain; for the earth shall be full of the knowledge of the LORD as the waters cover the sea. In that day the root of Jesse shall stand as an ensign to the peoples; him shall the nations seek, and his dwellings shall be glorious. In that day the Lord will extend his hand yet a second time to recover the remnant which is left of his people, from Assyria, from Egypt, from Pathros, from Ethiopia, from Elam, from Shinar, from Hamath, and from the coastlands of the sea. He will raise an ensign for the nations, and will assemble the outcasts of Israel, and gather the dispersed of Judah from the four corners of the earth. The jealousy of E'phraim shall depart, and those who harass Judah shall be cut off; E'phraim shall not be jealous of Judah, and Judah shall not harass E'phraim. [Isa 11:1-13 RSV]

This is the background to my biggest objection to any divinely mandated "cosmic fall". God promises a redeemed "natural" world without predation, existing in harmony with humans rather than existing as a danger (as it did in the Old Testament) or as a resource to be exploited (as it all too often is today). These promises, however, are meaningless if the reason the natural world is in need of redemption is because God "broke" it. He would only be promising to undo what He did in the first place. The deep biological changes that would have to take place to allow the lion to eat straw would only be the reverse of the ones God made in bringing the lion into its present state. If our hope for the restoration of the created world is simply for God to return it to the way it was before He cursed it, what kind of a hope is that?

You may claim (with biblical justification) that God is not restoring the creation to exactly the way it was before; it will be better somehow, to His greater glory. But this still fails to answer how, exactly, it's to God's glory to arbitrarily afflict His creation only to restore it later. Sure, it's a display of His power, but if the ideal is a world without "natural evil", why would He actively move the creation away from this ideal? How does this enhance His glory? This is roughly analogous to answering Paul's question in Romans 6:1, "Are we to continue in sin that grace may abound?" with a resounding "Yes!", and the additional caveat that God is the one making us continue in sin so that His grace may abound. One of the rules for interpreting Scripture in the early church was that any interpretation must be worthy of God's character, and I contend that this interpretation is supremely unworthy of Him.

At this point, I'm reminded of another book I read recently, a chronicle by Austin Fischer about his journey into and out of Calvinism. It was a nice little read, and I like how he clearly explained his (still-valid) reasons for being a Calvinist to help show how Calvinists are not simply pretentious, joyless exegetes obsessed with God's sovereignty. He made clear that Calvinism is not a horrible heresy; it is a good way of understanding God's sovereignty and grace, but not the best way. I hope to do something similar with the "cosmic fall" view. Yes, it has its merits, both in how it portrays God as sovereign over creation and deeply concerned about sin, but it is not the best way to explain natural evil.

Fischer's central critique of Calvinism is a more sophisticated version of the old objection that it portrays a God who is no longer good. In response to Calvinist objections that God gets to define what 'good' is and that we are bound to listen and obey, Fischer asks, essentially: if God's definition of 'good' is, in the case of the reprobate, so completely foreign (that is, diametrically opposed) to our definition, how can we be sure that His definition of His other attributes, for instance His truthfulness or trustworthiness, are not also the opposite of our definitions? How can we be sure that His "truthful" speech in Scripture is not lies to us? How can we have any meaningful relationship with Him?

I think this critique applies equally to the doctrine of the "cosmic fall". If, in this instance, God's definition of "justice" is so completely contrary to ours, punishing the innocent for the sins of the guilty, how can we trust this justice? And, as Fischer objected, how can we know His Word is really trustworthy for us, etc.? Again, if God somehow gains greater "glory" (for this view also calls our understanding of His glory into question) by cursing creation and then restoring it, how can we hope that the restoration of all things will really be permanent? Why not continue breaking and fixing the cosmos for ever-greater glory, if God's glory is such an abstract and mathematical notion?

Understanding natural evil as being ordained by God also undermines any incentive we may have to act as "stewards" of creation; after all, God is the one who placed the animals in their plight of mortality, predation, and disease in the first place, and He is the only One who can do anything about it, so why should we try to improve it? Why not make the created world serve our interests with deforestation, pollution, factory farms, and the like and focus on the only thing that really matters, loving our neighbor and the salvation of souls? (I think that such instances of humans failing as stewards and denigrating creation are the only way in which human sin does negatively affect animals, and it is quite obviously our fault, not God's)

Finally, and perhaps most devastatingly, is the fact that not only is this "cosmic fall" never spelled out anywhere in Scripture; in much of the Old Testament, God Himself does not seem sorrowful about "natural evil". There is no hint that it is not the way things are supposed to be, or that it is God-wrought. Psalm 104's beautiful description of the natural world in all its "wild"-ness, including God providing meat for lions and sea monsters, is how Osborn opens his book.

Thou makest darkness, and it is night, when all the beasts of the forest creep forth. The young lions roar for their prey, seeking their food from God. When the sun rises, they get them away and lie down in their dens. Man goes forth to his work and to his labor until the evening. O LORD, how manifold are thy works! In wisdom hast thou made them all; the earth is full of thy creatures. Yonder is the sea, great and wide, which teems with things innumerable, living things both small and great. There go the ships, and Leviathan which thou didst form to sport in it. These all look to thee, to give them their food in due season. When thou givest to them, they gather it up; when thou openest thy hand, they are filled with good things. When thou hidest thy face, they are dismayed; when thou takest away their breath, they die and return to their dust. When thou sendest forth thy Spirit, they are created; and thou renewest the face of the ground. [Psa 104:20-30 RSV]

Likewise in Job:

"Can you hunt the prey for the lion, or satisfy the appetite of the young lions, when they crouch in their dens, or lie in wait in their covert? Who provides for the raven its prey, when its young ones cry to God, and wander about for lack of food? [Job 38:39-41 RSV]

"The wings of the ostrich wave proudly; but are they the pinions and plumage of love? For she leaves her eggs to the earth, and lets them be warmed on the ground, forgetting that a foot may crush them, and that the wild beast may trample them. She deals cruelly with her young, as if they were not hers; though her labor be in vain, yet she has no fear; because God has made her forget wisdom, and given her no share in understanding. When she rouses herself to flee, she laughs at the horse and his rider. ... Is it at your command that the eagle mounts up and makes his nest on high? On the rock he dwells and makes his home in the fastness of the rocky crag. Thence he spies out the prey; his eyes behold it afar off. His young ones suck up blood; and where the slain are, there is he." [Job 39:13-18, 27-30 RSV]

And of course, the whole of Job chapter 41 about the "leviathan" (probably the crocodile), who is portrayed as the proud, terrible king of of the creatures, rather than man. In all of God's descriptions the tone is one of a proud parent giving a glowing description of his progeny, not of regretfully describing necessary measures taken in response to human sin. Likewise in Psalm 104 the tone strongly suggests that the Psalmist's description of the created world is working just as God intends it to, even the cycle of life and death in v. 29-30. The only suggestion that things are other than they should be is in the last verse, which is directed solely at human sinners and is distinct from the discourse on the harmonious creation.

Death before the Fall?

Osborn's thesis, as the title of his book suggests, is that death could have existed before the Fall. In other words, the pre-Fall creation was not the golden age of perfection that Augustine and later interpreters made it out to be. I have come to cautiously agree with this, fully acknowledging that it leaves much unanswered (but doesn't have the horrible implications of a divinely decreed cosmic fall).

First, the creation in Genesis is never called "perfect". It is called "good", or "very good". The Hebrew for these are tob and tob me'od. These words are elsewhere used to say that Rebekah was "very fair to look upon" in Gen 24:16, that God meant Joseph's brother's mistreatment of him "for good" in 50:20, that the promised land was "exceedingly good" in Num 14:7, that man should "take pleasure" (or "see good") in his toil in Ecc 3:13, and that "it is good for a man that he bear the yoke in his youth." (Lam 3:27)

If Moses (or whoever wrote Genesis, depending on your theory) had wanted to say that the creation was perfect, he most likely would not used tob and tob me'od, for there is a Hebrew word for "perfect", tamim. So, using this word, Noah was "blameless in his generation" (Gen 6:9), the sacrificial offerings in Leviticus are to be "without blemish" (Lev 1:3,10; 3:1; 4:3; 5:18; 14:10), and in Deu 32:4 God's work is said to be "perfect". If the author really did view the pre-Fall creation as existing in a state of ontological perfection, why didn't he say so?

Or again, if the creation was perfect and exactly "the way it's supposed to be" before the Fall, how do you explain the presence of the snake (later interpreted as being Satan) in the garden? How did he get there? If he really was a fallen angel, who let him in? It's hard to argue that the creation was "perfect" if it contained this lying figure, whatever his identity.

In God's charge to the first humans in Genesis 1:28-29, He tells them to "subdue" the earth and "have dominion [rule] over" it. These are not nice words that describe the work of a gardener; they are militaristic words. The word for "subdue", kabash, is used to describe how the land of Canaan lay subdued before the advancing Israelites, King David's conquests (2 Sam 8:11), people being subjugated into slavery (2 Chr 28:10, Neh 5:5, Jer 34:11,16), trampling or treading down an opposing force (Zec 9:15), Haman "assaulting" Esther in the king's presence (Est 7:8), and God treading our iniquities underfoot. (Mic 7:19) In no other place in the Old Testament is kabash used to mean anything nice.

Likewise with the word for "rule" or "have dominion", radah. At best, it is used to describe the Lord or a prevailing nation exercising dominion over a subjugated nation; at worst, it is used to describe especially harsh rule in Leviticus 25:43,46,53 or the mission of Christ to "Rule in the midst of your foes!" (Psa 110:2) The picture of human's mission here in Genesis 1 is not merely a dignified, representative role as the "head" of a perfect, harmonious creation, but conquerors appointed to subdue an unruly creation (likewise the word for "helper" in Gen 2:18 does not simply mean a personal assistant, but usually speaks of God's much-needed support against a superior force, even enemy armies). In light of the tension between the garden and the land outside (was only the garden perfect?), it's quite possible to see Adam's mission as the expansion of the garden, the subjugation of the untamed earth.

The scope of the "curse" in Genesis 3 is much smaller than what we commonly present as the consequence of sin. The only animal cursed is the serpent, but even it is not forced to become a predator, but only told, "upon your belly you shall go, and dust [not mice] you shall eat all the days of your life." Eve's pain in childbirth is "greatly multiplied", leaving open the possibility that pain did exist before. (There is also the fact that no one has to explain to Adam and Eve what pain and death are, but this is only an argument from silence)

Finally, it is worth remembering, as I often say, that nowhere in the Old Testament do we find any mention of a generalized curse affecting all humans (much less all creation) reverberating from Adam's sin. Isaiah 43:27 does mention him, saying "Your first father sinned, and your mediators transgressed against me", but even here Adam is merely being used as a bad example for the later Israelites, not as the origin of "original sin" common to all.

Neither is death universally presented as the direct consequence of sin; says Osborn, "Death in classical Jewish thought is at times seen as a divine punishment and the consequence of sin, but at other times it is seen as the God-appointed fulfillment of full lives", as seen in the above-mentioned deaths of the patriarchs. Again, going back to the cosmological note, death in the Hebrew understanding is not some alien force that Adam unwittingly introduced to creation, but simply the withdrawal of God's Spirit, the breath of life. It is quite feasible that Adam and Eve were not created immortal intrinsically, but immortal conditionally on their continuing to eat from the tree of life (see Gen 3:22-24). Without continuing access to this tree, man went the way of all flesh, back to the dust from which he came. God's curse to Adam in Gen 3:19, "you are dust, and to dust you shall return", could be God merely reminding him of his finite, creaturely nature and dependence on God's active, sustaining grace for life rather than editing his biological makeup to make him start aging.

I'm not claiming that this case is airtight. There is still plenty that doesn't make sense to me. My goal is that you would, if only for a moment, remove your current interpretive lenses and try on some different ones. This different, admittedly more difficult and ambiguous view of the creation is, at least, one possible way to read the Old Testament—and, in my view, closer to the beliefs of the ancient Jews than our Augustinian reading of a perfect, deathless paradise destroyed by both human and divine action. It draws a closer parallel between creation and redemption (at least for the non-human world), seeing the latter as a continuation of the former to a state of completion that never was in the past.

And yet...

At this point, you are probably just about ready to throw your New Testament at my head. I have been sticking to the Old Testament in an effort to show how we can piously introduce later ideas into it. It is to those later ideas that we now turn. But before getting to Paul, it's worth noting, as I mentioned earlier, that God promises a redemption of all of creation not just in the New Testament, but also through Isaiah. Quoting the relevant passage again:

The wolf shall dwell with the lamb, and the leopard shall lie down with the kid, and the calf and the lion and the fatling together, and a little child shall lead them. The cow and the bear shall feed; their young shall lie down together; and the lion shall eat straw like the ox. The sucking child shall play over the hole of the asp, and the weaned child shall put his hand on the adder's den. They shall not hurt or destroy in all my holy mountain; for the earth shall be full of the knowledge of the LORD as the waters cover the sea. [Isa 11:6-9 RSV]

A similar theme is found later in Isaiah:

"For behold, I create new heavens and a new earth; and the former things shall not be remembered or come into mind. But be glad and rejoice for ever in that which I create; for behold, I create Jerusalem a rejoicing, and her people a joy. I will rejoice in Jerusalem, and be glad in my people; no more shall be heard in it the sound of weeping and the cry of distress. No more shall there be in it an infant that lives but a few days, or an old man who does not fill out his days, for the child shall die a hundred years old, and the sinner a hundred years old shall be accursed. They shall build houses and inhabit them; they shall plant vineyards and eat their fruit. They shall not build and another inhabit; they shall not plant and another eat; for like the days of a tree shall the days of my people be, and my chosen shall long enjoy the work of their hands. They shall not labor in vain, or bear children for calamity; for they shall be the offspring of the blessed of the LORD, and their children with them. Before they call I will answer, while they are yet speaking I will hear. The wolf and the lamb shall feed together, the lion shall eat straw like the ox; and dust shall be the serpent's food. They shall not hurt or destroy in all my holy mountain, says the LORD." [Isa 65:17-25 RSV]

These passages both describe a plan of redemption that goes beyond human sin to encompass all of creation, including what we would call "natural evil". Interestingly, you'll notice that people are still subject to death in the second passage, just at a good old age. (Was death per se a problem to Isaiah and his audience, or just untimely death? That is, does this passage describe an "intermediate state" of redemption, as is commonly supposed, or an earlier vision of the eschatological paradise?)

But, of course, it's primarily in the writings of Paul that death itself is revealed to be a great enemy of mankind, which Jesus defeated (or at least defanged) on the cross. In Romans 5 Paul typologically compares and contrasts Adam, the man through whom death came, with Jesus, the man through whom life comes. This passage is also the basis for a doctrine of "original sin".

Therefore as sin came into the world through one man and death through sin, and so death spread to all men because all men sinned-- sin indeed was in the world before the law was given, but sin is not counted where there is no law. Yet death reigned from Adam to Moses, even over those whose sins were not like the transgression of Adam, who was a type of the one who was to come. But the free gift is not like the trespass. For if many died through one man's trespass, much more have the grace of God and the free gift in the grace of that one man Jesus Christ abounded for many. And the free gift is not like the effect of that one man's sin. For the judgment following one trespass brought condemnation, but the free gift following many trespasses brings justification. If, because of one man's trespass, death reigned through that one man, much more will those who receive the abundance of grace and the free gift of righteousness reign in life through the one man Jesus Christ. Then as one man's trespass led to condemnation for all men, so one man's act of righteousness leads to acquittal and life for all men. For as by one man's disobedience many were made sinners, so by one man's obedience many will be made righteous. Law came in, to increase the trespass; but where sin increased, grace abounded all the more, so that, as sin reigned in death, grace also might reign through righteousness to eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord. [Rom 5:12-21 RSV]

Again, pay attention to what Paul does and does not say. He does say that death came into the world through Adam's sin, and that it "spread to all men". He does not say anything about whether it also reigned over animals through Adam, or whether "death" is some kind of dualistic spiritual power or simply the loss of man's conditional immortality made possible by perfect communion with God in the garden. The strong parallel Paul draws between sin and death makes it hard to believe he could also have meant his words to apply to natural evil.

Later in Romans, Paul makes clear that the promised redemption and glory which Christ will bring extend not just to us but to all creation, which was "subjected to futility" by God in hope of this redemption.

I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us. For the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the sons of God; for the creation was subjected to futility, not of its own will but by the will of him who subjected it in hope; because the creation itself will be set free from its bondage to decay and obtain the glorious liberty of the children of God. We know that the whole creation has been groaning in travail together until now; and not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the first fruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait for adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies. For in this hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what he sees? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience. [Rom 8:18-25 RSV] 

"Futility" here cannot be the same as "bondage to decay", or we again read Paul as saying, absurdly, that part of God's plan of redemption is simply fixing what He broke.

In 1 Corinthians 15, Paul makes very clear that death is "the last enemy to be destroyed", and destroyed it will be at the resurrection.

For as by a man came death, by a man has come also the resurrection of the dead. For as in Adam all die, so also in Christ shall all be made alive. But each in his own order: Christ the first fruits, then at his coming those who belong to Christ. Then comes the end, when he delivers the kingdom to God the Father after destroying every rule and every authority and power. For he must reign until he has put all his enemies under his feet. The last enemy to be destroyed is death. "For God has put all things in subjection under his feet." But when it says, "All things are put in subjection under him," it is plain that he is excepted who put all things under him. When all things are subjected to him, then the Son himself will also be subjected to him who put all things under him, that God may be everything to every one. ... Lo! I tell you a mystery. We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet will sound, and the dead will be raised imperishable, and we shall be changed. For this perishable nature must put on the imperishable, and this mortal nature must put on immortality. When the perishable puts on the imperishable, and the mortal puts on immortality, then shall come to pass the saying that is written: "Death is swallowed up in victory." "O death, where is thy victory? O death, where is thy sting?" The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ. [1Co 15:21-28, 51-57 RSV]

In his great Christological hymn in Colossians 1, Paul speaks of how, through the cross, God reconciled to himself "all things, whether on earth or in heaven". As many as were created through Christ will be reconciled through Him.

He is the image of the invisible God, the first-born of all creation; for in him all things were created, in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or principalities or authorities--all things were created through him and for him. He is before all things, and in him all things hold together. He is the head of the body, the church; he is the beginning, the first-born from the dead, that in everything he might be pre-eminent. For in him all the fulness of God was pleased to dwell, and through him to reconcile to himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven, making peace by the blood of his cross. [Col 1:15-20 RSV]

And in his vision of the final victory, John sees the final destruction of death, and the future hope of eternal life without any death.

Then Death and Hades were thrown into the lake of fire. This is the second death, the lake of fire; [Rev 20:14 RSV] 

Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth; for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more. And I saw the holy city, new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband; and I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, "Behold, the dwelling of God is with men. He will dwell with them, and they shall be his people, and God himself will be with them; he will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning nor crying nor pain any more, for the former things have passed away." [Rev 21:1-4 RSV]

Reading these passages together, it seems pretty obvious that they share some common themes and promises. Paul draws close parallels between sin and death; they both entered the world through Adam, they were both decisively defeated (but not done away with) by Jesus' death and resurrection, and they will both be destroyed forever when Jesus finishes what He started. To Paul, they work together closely; the wages of sin is death (Rom 6:23), the sting of death is sin (1 Cor 15:56), death came through sin (Rom 5:12), sin reigns in death (5:21)... Furthermore, given Paul's emphasis in 1 Cor 15 on both the physical and spiritual implications of Christ's resurrection, it seems unjustified to say that Paul drew a distinction between physical death and spiritual death, as I used to do. As with Isaiah, Paul envisions a redemption not just of human sinners, but of all creation to its creator.

In this light, it's easy to see how, reading the Old Testament through the lens of the New, an interpreter could extend Paul's dynamic of "death through Adam's fall, life and redemption through Christ's rise from the grave" to all creation: the whole cosmos "fell", in some sense, with sinful man, and now awaits redemption along with us. This view is based not so much on a specific text as on the desire for consistency; animals age, get sick, and are subject to the same kinds of dangers we are, so shouldn't they have the same source? Yet, as I tried to show earlier, such a "cosmic fall" could not be the direct consequence of Adam's sin, but only God's free response to it. But if the Old Testament perspective I argued for is correct and what we see as "natural evil" is part of God's original, intended creation, the "way things are supposed to be", why are we promised that it will be redeemed? Something doesn't add up...

Picking up the pieces

A few words on methodology. I'm not claiming for a moment to have the solution to the problem of evil, or even of natural evil. If Job is any indication, it lies beyond the human capacity to fully understand. So any solutions that we attempt to come up with are doomed to be both fragmentary and speculative. Fragmentary because they will not be ultimately conclusive or satisfying (I think Jesus Himself is the only truly satisfying answer to these questions), and speculative because in trying to assemble the biblical evidence into a coherent picture, it must add something. What the Bible tells us underdetermines a sure, complete conclusion about God's purpose in allowing sin and suffering. This is why throwing favored proof-texts back and forth doesn't get us anywhere; both parties try to go beyond what God has revealed while thinking theirs is the truly "biblical position".

I think something like this was going on in my small group. As I hope I have showed by this point, the Old and New Testaments (and even different parts of the Old Testament) don't provide a single, neatly cohering viewpoint. Job and some of the Psalms seem perfectly fine with animal suffering and natural evil; Isaiah and Paul promise an end to it. The Old Testament doesn't see Adam's sin as having a global, spiritual effect on his progeny; Paul does.What was happening in our discussion was that I was placing the Old Testament position more centrally, while my friends were emphasizing the New Testament position.

So what is the answer? Does the Old Testament take precedence because it came first? Does the New Testament view supersede the Old by virtue of being more recent? I hope you are as dissatisfied with either of these options as I am. Prioritizing the NT leads to the "cosmic fall" theory and all of its problems, whereas continuing my focus on the OT might have led to a passive acceptance of the creation as it is now, with all its imperfections. The Bible is the work of human authors, but in light of the Christian belief that "all Scripture is theopneustos" (2 Tim 3:16), we rightly expect God to communicate a single message rather than a list of options.

The way I do this is by looking for a progression from the earlier to later views, rather than simply saying that Paul gets to control how we read Isaiah, David, Moses, and Job. Currently, this progression looks something like this:

Job is probably the earliest book of the Old Testament to be composed, despite not having the earliest chronological setting. As I mentioned before, in God's speech to Job in chapters 38-41 we get a very positive view of the created order in all its wild-ness. The sea (associated in the ancient world with danger, monsters, and the unknown) is given boundaries, but still allowed to exist. God asserts knowledge of the gates of death and deep darkness (38:17; probably Sheol); mastery over hail, torrential rain, and thunderbolts; providence of food for both plant and meat-eating animals. Much of chapters 40 and 41 are taken up by what can only be described as God boasting in two particularly spectacular creatures, behemoth and leviathan, on whose identities we can only speculate. On hearing all of this, Job does not question the wisdom of any of it but only falls silent before the great Creator who ordains and sustains the cosmos, and provides for everything in it. Again, there is no hint of a "curse" that has fallen on the natural order, or that any of it is other than it should be.

Genesis, by its third chapter, makes clear that all is not as it should be in the creation. Humans, created to bear God's image and exercise His sovereign rule over His creation, sin against their creator and descend into self-destructive rebellion. This all happens in the first 11 chapters. But through the increases of sin, a glimmer of hope is preserved, first through Noah, and then Abraham and his line. The patriarchs become the main characters throughout most of Genesis as the recipients of God's promises to deal with sin and extend His blessing not just to their line but to "all the families [nations] of the earth". (Gen 12:3) God's promises to Abraham become the vehicle by which He will solve the problem of Genesis 3.

Moses, and Joshua afterwards, lead Abraham's descendants, now a large nation, to claim the promises given to him. Yet even before the Israelites reach the promised land of Canaan, we have to wonder whether they're really the solution God intended or just part of the problem. The big question through the subsequent books of history is whether Israel will remain faithful to God, who gave them the promises, or join with Adam in rejecting Him. Unfortunately they do not, and the curses promises in Deuteronomy 27 and 28 come true as the promised land is taken over by Assyria and Babylon, and the people taken into exile. All seems lost; Israel has failed in her faithfulness to God, and as a consequence lost both her land and the temple their God's presence dwelled among them.

The prophets, however, remind Israel that even if she has been unfaithful, God is still faithful to her, though displeased with her sin and determined to cleanse it. So they prophesy both of punishment at the hands of other nations (either beforehand, as it is happening, or in retrospect) and of God's future redemption of His people. But through the prophets we are also reminded that God's plans aren't just for Israel, but for all nations, as He said to Abraham. And, even more surprisingly, where Genesis and Job seemed to accept the created order, Isaiah foresees a coming redemption that goes beyond humans, to the animal kingdom and even the whole earth. Regardless, even after returning home, Israel senses that her exile is not over. They still live under foreign pagan rulers; the temple has not been rebuilt; her people still don't keep Torah faithfully.

Jesus, of course, is the ultimate fulfiller of the promises made to Abraham, the "faithful Israel" who demonstrated perfect obedience when no one else could. He ministered to both Jews and Gentiles—the promises were coming true for all nations! His death fulfilled Israel's conception of her continuing exile serving as an atoning and purifying sacrifice, and in His resurrection He showed the destiny of the redeemed Israel, the enjoyment of eternal life. He was the Messiah, though not the one Israel expected.

Paul, then, does much of the work of interpreting Jesus' life, death, and resurrection, showing how He fulfilled God's promises. He identifies Israel's continuing exile with the "curse" promised by Moses and presents Jesus as the one to break it, but more than that, to bring the promises of Abraham to all nations. This inheritance of redemption extends not just to the Jews, not just to humanity, but all of creation (Rom 8:19-23); Jesus is truly the savior of all. He never states it explicitly or expounds on it, but it is hard to deny that he saw this redemption extending even to animals and natural evil.

The way I put these viewpoints together, roughly, is that through the Bible, the hope for redemption remains ever since Genesis 3. But the expected scope of that redemption increases, from Israel to all the nations to the whole creation. Since the means by which the whole creation came to be in need of redemption are never spelled out, we seem to be faced with a dilemma. We can either say that God created the world "just right" (assuming that tob me'od really does mean "perfect") and, by implication, is the one who "broke" it, or that He created the world imperfect, with mortal animals, disease, natural disaster and such, so that the promises of a global creation are not a return to the way things were but something totally new.

The first option, that God made the creation perfect but caused it to fall in response to human sin, begs the question of why God would do such a thing and then reveal His master plan to redeem it, that is, to undo what He Himself did. But the second option, that God made the world imperfect, with death, disease, disaster and the like already there, runs into similar difficulties: if it was all the same to Him, why make the world worse than He could? Each explanation for natural evil is beset with such troubling implications.

But is there a third way?

Notice that neither of these patterns fits humans, at least in regard to sin. In the Jewish account we were created sinless, but no one would argue that God "caused" us to fall into sin. Rather, Adam and Eve were created with free will, the powers of self-choice and self-direction, and it was through the abuse of these God-given powers that they sinned. Even after the Fall, the fact that we have free will is not a bad thing, only that we misuse it to sin. Free will is assumed to be a unique gift to humans, and so the blame for the Fall of man can truly be placed on our shoulders, not God's. It's easy to see how God's creation of a self-directing, self-creating people can be to His greater glory than a world of automatons, but also how this freedom creates the possibility for creation to autonomously rebel.

What if the fate of man is analogous to the fate of the rest of creation? That is, what if the animal kingdom and even the forces of nature were also created with a degree of limited autonomy from their Creator? And the misuse of that freedom, rather than God's direct fiat, is the reason for natural evil? In other words, what if there was a "cosmic fall" of some kind, but it was not God's doing but the misuse of creaturely freedom, just like the human condition? It's crazy on its face, not highly supported by the biblical evidence and totally outside the scope of modern science, but then, so is the notion that God edited the biological structure of animals, introduced disease and decay, and even reorganized plate tectonics in response to human sin and then blamed it on us—and this explanation is much more consonant with God's character.

This is the view that Osborn finally, tentatively, settles on, and he explains it better than I can. (Underline = emphasis added)

In Genesis 1, there are implicit and explicit distinctions made between domestic and wild animals, or cattle and "beast[s] of the earth" as well as "creeping thing[s]". ... So there is a still-untamed and wild aspect to the creation. Adam and Eve must wrestle with this side of the created world and bring it more completely under God's dominion without overriding or exploiting its freedom. This is their high calling, and it may be a formidable task. The language of "subduing" in Genesis does not suggest pruning hedges. It suggests doing battle. Put another way, Adam's role is not simply that of a caretaker but of a redeemer. The pressing question is: Might this wildness in the creation that still needs to be "subdued" or redeemed, emerging from principles of freedom or indeterminacy built into the creation, have included death as well? Could God ever have looked at a world that included death or pain of any kind and pronounced it "very good"? And could an untamed and very good creation have included elements of ferocity and even predation? 

The first unmistakable death is recorded in Genesis 3:21—and it is by all accounts God who is responsible for it. ... Readers who hold to a high view of Scripture's authority must be very careful, then, about projecting their own notions of perfection and goodness onto the text and onto nature in the name of defending God's character. These readings may in fact pose far greater theological and moral perils than the idea of death of a kind before Adam's rebellion. To say that seasonal change and cycles of birth, life, and death in nature are, without qualification, "satanic", "evil", and things we will someday escape by leaving this veil of tears and illusion behind, may actually be an expression, in Jewish perspective, of ingratitude if not contempt for God's good creation and the earthiness of material existence.

Whatever its difficulties, the only position that makes any moral, religious or rational sense of human moral evil to my mind is the one that declares that the divine will wills human free will, and is both powerful enough and self-giving enough to create beings with the capacity to make meaningful, self-defining choices that are morally and spiritually significant. And in the same way we speak of moral evil as resulting from human free will, we should now somewhat analogously speak of natural evil and animal suffering as emerging from free or indeterminate processes, which God does not override and which are inherent possibilities in a creation in which the Creator allows the other to be truly other. "The Creator wills that his creation itself should affirm and continue his work," writes Dietrich Bonhoeffer, "he wills that created things should live and create further life." And God continues to create in and through these processes while still allowing the creation to be as it is, each element and organism working out its inner principles according to its kind. 

Or as Terence Fretheim writes of "natural evils" such as earthquakes and floods, "the created moral order" is best grasped as "a complex, loose causal weave." God "lets the creatures have the freedom to be what God created them to be." At the same time, "the looseness of the causal wave allows God to be at work in the system in some ways without violating or (temporarily) suspending it." This opens the door to the possibility of suffering, whether from the sheer randomness of plate tectonics and bolts of lightning that set forests ablaze or from the rise of adaptations in some creatures that are harmful to others. We might summarize this view of the natural world ... by saying that God's way of creating and sustaining primarily takes the form of divine providence working within history, including natural history, rather than absolute miracle radically interrupting history from without.

Building off C.S. Lewis' speculations on animal sufferings in The Problem of Pain, Osborn looks at the situation in a slightly different way, drawing another parallel between the human and animal plights. Man did not fall on his own, but after the temptation of the serpent, traditionally identified with Satan. Could animal suffering and death, like the human Fall, be a result of the influence of a preexisting spiritual principle in opposition to God's good, creative purposes?

[quoting Lewis] "it is also worth considering whether man, at his first coming into the world, had not already a redemptive function to perform. ... It may have been one of man's functions to restore peace to the animal world, and if he had not joined the enemy he might have succeeded in doing so to an extent now hardly imaginable."

Nevertheless, there is a clear sense throughout the New Testament that we are living in a time of temporary dualism in which God has permitted parts of his creation—and not humans alone—the autonomy of radical freedom and even defiance, which God himself not must in some sense struggle against.

If we take this language not only of human but of cosmic redemption seriously, we will see that the gospel is not only good news to people—it is good news for creation in its entirety, including suffering and stupefied animals, subjected to chaos, cruelty, and death not by their own sinfulness, not by Adam's disobedience, nor again by God's design, but potentially before the arrival of humanity in a universe of unequal but mysteriously conflicting spiritual realities. ... Human as well as natural history now appears as the stage for a drama that has involved opposing principles of freedom and sovereignty for vastly longer than we may have first imagined. 

The advantages of Lewis' in some ways highly literalistic but at the same time nondogmatic speculations include the following: (1) he emphasizes competing principles of freedom rather than postfall miraculous refashioning of matter (whether demonic or divine) to account for the physical universe we now see before us—an approach that seems to this reader to offer greater theological and moral (not to mention scientific) coherence; (2) he offers a nondefensive and open approach to what scientists have to tell us about the evidences of the "book" of nature, without giving away to philosophical naturalists the conceit that they possess the full story; and (3) he exhibits a humble recognition that there is much we simply do not know or understand on both the scientific and biblical sides of the problem.

Lending credibility (if not support) to this hypothesis, remember that Paul does not say that Adam created or begat sin in Romans 5:12, but only that it came into the world through him. John teaches that Satan is the one who has "sinned from the beginning" (1 Jhn 3:8). And, of course, Satan is said to have been cast from heaven (Luk 10:18, Rev 12:7-9) and has (somehow) been given great power and authority over the world (Luke 4:6, Eph 2:2), traditionally identified as the "god of this world" (Jhn 12:31; 14:30; 16:11; 2 Cor 4:4).

Conclusion

This view removes (or at least softens) the line we tend to draw between man and the rest of creation. Instead of making it a hapless casuality of (God's response to) Adam's fall, it sees their situations as more analogous. Both were created with a limited degree of freedom of self-direction; both were influenced by an opposing spiritual force that (for reasons entirely beyond our present scope) has been allowed access into, and even a degree of authority over, this world. This hypothesis of the origin of animal suffering and natural evil may be wrong; there may be a reading of the biblical evidence that does greater justice to both the Hebrew viewpoint and our modern concerns. But I am content with it for now, in part because it puts me in a place similar to that of Job; in the scope of these grand questions I now see myself as a mere extra on, in Osborn's words, "the stage for a drama that has involved opposing principles of freedom and sovereignty for vastly longer than we may have first imagined." It allows me to see God's mystery as it truly is, not as an excuse for behavior unworthy of His character but as the impossibility of the finite trying to comprehend the mind of the infinite.

The Bible's dual role as a divine and human book means that we can trust it to reveal not only truth about God, but also to reveal the true God, and we rightly keep it at the center of our discussion of natural evil, for it is, I'm convinced, something that God cares about. But at the same time, it is not a magic book or answers or 8-ball that gives us a neat answer to any question we may think to ask of it; it may turn back and question us and our questions. The question "why is there animal suffering and death?" is simply not directly answered anywhere in Scripture, so evidently God did not consider it crucially important to clarify. We can search for a composite answer, in the end, answer or no, we must adopt Job's silence and not make a bigger issue of this question than is warranted.