Dr. Talbott posted his first response to Dr. McClymond on his Facebook Inescapable Love site:
Reply to Michael J. McClymond—Part I
In a section entitled “The Philosophical Universalism of Thomas Talbott,” which is but a tiny fraction of his massive two-volume work The Devil’s Redemption: A New History and Interpretation of Christian Universalism,[i] Michael J. McClymond illustrates the danger, as I see it, of trying to cover way too much ground way too quickly. His entire work of over 1,300 pages is a monumental piece of historical scholarship, at least in terms of its breadth of coverage; one would be hard pressed, indeed, to identify a single name or topic, relevant to the history of Christian universalism, that escapes his attention altogether. But in some cases at least, his incredible breadth of coverage also comes at the expense of a careful presentation and evaluation of arguments, of any real depth, and even of simple accuracy. And his discussion of The Inescapable Love of God illustrates the point nicely.
An Unfortunate Confusion
McClymond gets off to a rough start in discussing my book when he confuses a set of three propositions, which I claimed to be logically inconsistent, with “a philosophical argument for universalism.” As set forth in the first edition, which is the focus of his attention, here are the relevant propositions:
(1) It is God’s redemptive purpose for the world (and therefore his will) to reconcile all sinners to himself.
(2) It is within God’s power to achieve his redemptive purpose for the world.
(3) Some sinners will never be reconciled to God, and God will therefore either consign them to a place of eternal punishment, from which there will be no hope of escape, or put them out of existence altogether.
The inconsistency implicit in this set of propositions, as presented in the first edition, rested on a particular understanding of God’s redemptive purpose for the world. According to that understanding, God’s redemptive purpose for the world includes everything he considers most important and thus by definition overrides every other purpose he might have (see note 1 on page 44 for the full explanation). But whether these specific propositions really do comprise an inconsistent triad need not concern us here, since I later revised them in a way that puts the issue beyond dispute, or at least so I believe.[2] The important point for our purposes is that we have here a rather simple schema for classifying theologians; as I put it in the context, “a good way to classify Christian theologians and their theological systems, I want to suggest, is according to which of our three propositions they finally reject” (p. 46). In general, the Augustinians or Calvinists will reject proposition (1), the Arminians, Wesleyans, and most Roman Catholics will reject proposition (2), and we Christian universalists will reject proposition (3).
In any case, given that the above set of propositions has no conclusion and no premises, and given that it is lifted from a chapter entitled “Three Pictures of God in Western Theology”—a chapter in which I do not argue for (or against) any of the positions identified therein—how on earth, I wonder, could McClymond have confused this inconsistent triad with a philosophical argument for universalism. He points out, correctly, that I reject proposition (3), even as I would point out, correctly, that many Calvinists reject proposition (1). But that no more makes these three propositions an argument for universalism than it makes them an argument for Calvinism. I would consider this a minor slip-up, one not even worth mentioning, had McClymond not repeated this claim several times and had he not written the following: “we may be suspicious of Talbott’s argument for universalism [i.e., my inconsistent triad] because the argument proves too much—that is, more than Talbott might wish.” But again I must ask, what on earth does McClymond think the above set of propositions in fact proves? If it does indeed entail a contradiction, as I still believe it does, then that proves one thing and one thing only; it proves only that at least one of the three propositions is false.[3]
Things get even crazier when McClymond tries to justify his strange claim that my supposed argument for universalism proves more than I might wish. Incredibly, he switches to an entirely different set of propositions, as if that could be relevant to the propositions I actually set forth. He thus wrote, “let us revise the argument slightly, without changing its basic format,” and he then set forth the following propositions (whose numbers I have changed):
(4) “An all-loving God wills for there to be no sin, evil, or suffering in the universe he has created.”
(5) “An all-powerful God is able to prevent any sin, evil, or suffering from existing in the universe he has created.”
(6) “Sin, evil, and suffering exist in the universe that God has created.”
Now there are, of course, many similarities between the problem of hell and the more general problem of evil. But that hardly justifies the absurd claim that McClymond’s set of propositions does not change the “basic format” of my own. In the first place, whereas I claimed that my set of propositions was logically inconsistent, so that not all three of them could be true, McClymond treats his set of propositions as logically consistent, so that an Epicurus or a David Hume could claim that all three of them are true and then deduce from them that God cannot be both all-loving and all-powerful. McClymond then tries to foist this same conclusion on me, which is “more than Talbott might wish” to prove; he maintains, in other words, that my inconsistent set of propositions likewise commits me to the conclusion that God cannot be both all-loving and all-powerful. That leaves me almost speechless—almost anyway! Suffice it to say that no inconsistent set of propositions could prove any substantive conclusion at all, and neither could it prove, therefore, that an all-loving and all-powerful God does not exist (see again note 3).
Note also that an inescapable hell, whether understood as a horrific place of everlasting torture or as an everlasting separation from every possible source of joy and meaning in life, represents an utterly unique kind of suffering unknown on earth. With respect to the temporary sufferings of this life, however severe they might be over the short run, St. Paul could write: “I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory about to be revealed to us” (Rom 8:18). That future glory, he evidently thought, will more than compensate for all of the travails experienced along the way. But consigning someone to an inescapable hell would clearly be an instance of God inflicting irreparable harm upon someone, where irreparable harm is a kind of harm that not even omnipotence could both permit someone to experience and do anything to alleviate or repair it at some future time. Accordingly, it is logically impossible that an omnipotent God should love someone even in the minimal sense of willing the good for this person over the long run and, at the same time, subject this person to an inescapable hell.[4] So either God does not love all human beings, as consistent Calvinists have always acknowledged, or he does not subject any of them to an inescapable hell. It is as simple as that.
[1] Michael J. McClymond, The Devil’s Redemption: A New History and Interpretation of Christian Universalism (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2018).
[2] For my most recent expression of this inconsistent triad, see section 1 of my entry entitled “Heaven and Hell in Christian Thought” in the online Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy, which is available at the following URL: https://plato.stanford.edu/entries/heaven-hell/. The revised version of proposition (2) now reads: “Almighty God will triumph in the end and successfully reconcile to himself each person whose reconciliation he sincerely wills or desires.” Note that this makes no reference to God’s power or ability. That’s because it suddenly occurred to me a couple of decades ago that virtually every biblical text one might cite on behalf of the weaker claim that God has the power to accomplish his redemptive will for someone could also be cited on behalf of the stronger claim, as the Calvinists have always insisted, that he will in fact satisfy that redemptive will in the end.
[3] A point that may be more familiar to a philosopher than it would be to a non-philosopher is that a formal contradiction entails any proposition you please; that is, using the techniques of mathematical logic, you can validly deduce from a contradiction any proposition you please. So if my set of three propositions entails a contradiction, then it also entails the proposition that an omnipotent and maximally loving God exists; it likewise entails the proposition that such a God does not exist. But of course no such deduction would qualify as a sound argument, much less as some sort of a proof.
[4] Because some recent proponents of a free will theodicy of hell hold that a loving God would never place a time-limit on the opportunity to repent, not even in hell, this particular point does not pertain to those whose view includes the possibility that an occupant of hell may escape from it at some future time.