Academic literature on the topic 'Theodicy (Islam)'

Theodicy was born as a response to the problem of evil and its relationship to the power of God, and at the same time, as an assertion of Omnipotence, Omnibenevolence, and Omniscience of God. This article presents the interpretation of Frithjof Schuon's thought or Shaykh Isa Nur al-Din Ahmad as a Muslim thinker of the tradition of Perennialism philosophy that emphasizes universalism and esoterism. The article describes Schuon's principal thought concerning theodicy, especially how esoteric Islamic theodicy sees the nature of evil, the relationship of evil with the free will of humans and determination of God (predestination). Furthermore, this article tries to draw the extent to which esoterism is supportive and coherent with texts that are exoterically expressed in the Qur'an. Basically, esoteric Islamic theodicy parallels with the principle of Islamic mysticism. In the last part, this article tries to take the moral significance of the notions of esoteric Islamic theodicy.

This article discusses God 's omniscience and interference in the theological and Islamic’s theological perspectives. Theodical problem that centered on causality and the administration of God since the days of Greece God presented as a defendant. Berger uses theodicy concept to give meaning to the suffering experienced by humans in the world, while simultaneously promising happiness "in the world there". In this connection religion is clearly a force of alienation. Crime and suffering as a privacy are always present in reality and life. While Islamic’s theological reject the theodetic concept, according to Muttahharri, that on the plains of phenomena there is no "real evil" or "true goodness", while on plain noumena there is only one essence, namely goodness, because the substance of evil is truly pure nothingness.

AbstractViewing hardship through the Western tradition of theodicy, Western theologians and philosophers sometimes approach their Muslim neighbors with questions about the Islamic perspective on suffering. But merely by asking about “suffering,” these Western friends already project a theological category foreign to most Muslims, particularly those from a non-Western background. In order for Christian and post-Christian Westerners to understand the Islamic approach to hardship, they must first learn to distinguish between affliction and suffering. This requires a careful look at the creation narratives each tradition tells: for example, does God initiate human affliction? And what does the answer to this question say about the nature of affliction, if God is also good? Answering these queries helps one to distinguish Christian and Islamic responses to catastrophe, pain, and even violence. Furthermore, examining the koranic reply may redirect Western persons to teachings within the biblical tradition, which Christians often overlook or avoid. The instrumental role of affliction is relatively unpopular in the West, but dialogue with Islam uncovers the fact that it is a concept neither alien nor unimportant to biblical teaching. In fact, God’s repurposing of affliction is vital to Christian doctrine. Dialogue with Islam may help to recover this Christian lesson.

By this provocative work – to say the least – Dabashi makes a quite timelyintervention in the direction that the new discourse on Islam has recentlytaken, especially among progressive-liberal Muslim scholars. Unlike manyothers who are attracted to liberalism of various sorts, Dabashi remains closer to the socialist lineage to formulate a fervent anti-imperialist critiqueand struggle for justice in the line of liberation theologies of Gustavo Gutierrezand Joseph H. Cone. There have also been a few other Muslims pursuinga similar endeavor, such as Shabbir Akhtar and Farid Esack. Yet Dabashi,while retaining the basic sense of liberation theology, “articulation of themeaning of faith based on commitment to abolish injustice” (p. 254), is ratherafter a theodicy for our post-civilizational times. In his words, the aim is “toinvestigate the specifically Islamic manners of opposing the imperial upsurgein the aftermath of the ‘Islam and West binary opposition’” (p. 2) ...

In the published text by Ḥamīd Dabāšī, Islamic liberation theology, there is no mention within it of the essay by Farīd Esack, Qurʾān, liberation and pluralism, published in 1997, and after reading both introductions. Perhaps it will be helpful to better recognize the relationship between these two authors, and those who have gone before them (Ašgar ʿAlī Engineer and Šabbir Aḫtar), concerning Islamic Liberation Theology and Theodicy, not only in connection to their thinking and methodological approach, which emerges as being very different, but with respect to the historical events that are affecting the Islamic Middle East in recent years. The hermeneutic and theological approach of F. Esack, the South African citizen, contrasts markedly with the political Šīʿah terminology and methodology, used by Ḥ. Dabāšī, who is a US citizen of Iranian origin. However, their use of similar sources, including such Christian liberation theology authors as Gustavo Gutierrez, allows them to promote a study which is capable of reinterpreting contemporary Islamic theodicy against the background of the recent Middle East uprisings. The analysis to which I am particular attracted concerns the relationship between two reinterpretations of the takfīr concept and the plural identification of the Arab-Islamic holy prophecy, described as advocating religious pluralism. The deconstruction, leading from a purely theological analysis of the takfīr and the interpretation of a plural Islam, is not openly tolerant, but is able to consider a more shared concept of Truth, and could be politically contemplated by a faith approach which remains Islamic-oriented whilst not being culturally tied to the Western world. The balance of political Islam through a faith still acknowledging the transcendent and acting as the backer of human freedom continues to be sought by theorists but is not appreciated by the most uncompromising Muslims believers.

This piece, completed one month after the events of 11 September, examines the sociological presuppositions of the major intellectual and journalistic frameworks used to understand the unfolding ‘war on terrorism’. The major frameworks include sociobiology, theodicy, political realism and ‘the clash of civilizations’. Mainstream sociological theorizing has been largely absent from the debate, and some of its more fashionable claims (e.g. about our ‘informatized world-order’) may even be cast into doubt. In general the discussion has resembled the old ‘Cold War’ rhetoric that was supposedly laid to rest with the fall of the Soviet Union, with ‘terrorism’ and ‘Islam’ replacing the threats previously posed by ‘totalitarianism’ and ‘Communism’. The sociology we teach our students may influence whether this tendency continues.

In the ongoing scholarly search for the roots of Islamic theology, students of Kalām are entrenched in two main camps: those who see early Islamic theology as a product of the encounter with Christian theology, and those who, without denying certain influences, emphasize the independence of Muslim thought and regard Kalām as a genuine, original reflection of the inner development of Islam. Until now, the arguments of one group of scholars have done little to convince the other. Indeed the scarcity of sources from the formative period of Kalām renders any evidence inconclusive. Yet it is not only the paucity of material, but the very nature of the question, which makes a definite answer practically impossible. For it can always be argued that interest in questions such as God's unity, theodicy, and anthropomorphism might appear within any monotheistic system. Thus, although Islamic theology can often be shown to be strikingly similar to Christian theology of an earlier period, it is often easier to speak about parallels than about sources.

Photograph by Gonzalo Echeverria (2010)“I must plunge again and again in the water of doubt” (Wittgenstein 1e). The Holy Grail in the phenomenology of religion (and, to a lesser extent, the sociology of religion) is a definition of religion that actually works, but, so far, this seems to have been elusive. Classical definitions of religion—substantive (e.g. Tylor) and functionalist (e.g. Durkheim)—fail, in part because they attempt to be in three places at once, as it were: they attempt to distinguish religion from non-religion; they attempt to capture what religions have in common; and they attempt to grasp the “heart”, or “core”, of religion. Consequently, family resemblance definitions of religion replace certainty and precision for its own sake with a more pragmatic and heuristic approach, embracing doubt and putting forward definitions that give us a better understanding (Verstehen) of religion. In this paper, I summarise some “new” definitions of religion that take this approach, before proposing and defending another one, defining religion as non-propositional and “apophatic”, thus accepting that doubt is central to religion itself, as well as to the analysis of religion.The question of how to define religion has had real significance in a number of court cases round the world, and therefore it does have an impact on people’s lives. In Germany, for example, the courts ruled that Scientology was not a religion, but a business, much to the displeasure of the Church of Scientology (Aldridge 15). In the United States, some advocates of Transcendental Meditation (TM) argued that TM was not a religion and could therefore be taught in public schools without violating the establishment clause in the constitution—the separation of church and state. The courts in New Jersey, and federal courts, ruled against them. They ruled that TM was a religion (Barker 146). There are other cases that I could cite, but the point of this is simply to establish that the question has a practical importance, so we should move on.In the classical sociology of religion, there are a number of definitions of religion that are quite well known. Edward Tylor (424) defined religion as a belief in spiritual beings. This definition does not meet with widespread acceptance, the notable exception being Melford Spiro, who proposed in 1966 that religion was “an institution consisting of culturally patterned interaction with culturally postulated super-human beings” (Spiro 96, see also 91ff), and who has bravely stuck to that definition ever since. The major problem is that this definition excludes Buddhism, which most people do regard as a religion, although some people try to get round the problem by claiming that Buddhism is not really a religion, but more of a philosophy. But this is cheating, really, because a definition of religion must be descriptive as well as prescriptive; that is, it must apply to entities that are commonly recognised as religions. Durkheim, in The Elementary Forms of Religious Life, proposed that religion had two key characteristics, a separation of the sacred from the profane, and a gathering together of people in some sort of institution or community, such as a church (Durkheim 38, 44). However, religions often reject a separation of the sacred from the profane. Most Muslims and many Calvinist Christians, for example, would insist strongly that everything—including the ostensibly profane—is equally subject to the sovereignty of God. Also, some religions are more oriented to a guru-pupil kind of relationship, rather than a church community.Weber tried to argue that religion should only be defined at the end of a long process of historical and empirical study. He is often criticised for this, although there probably is some wisdom in his argument. However, there seems to be an implicit definition of religion as theodicy, accounting for the existence of evil and the existence of suffering. But is this really the central concern of all religions?Clarke and Byrne, in their book Religion Defined and Explained, construct a typology of definitions, which I think is quite helpful. Broadly speaking, there are two types of classical definition. Firstly, there are substantive definitions (6), such as Tylor’s and Spiro’s, which posit some sort of common “property” that religions “have”—“inside” them, as it were. Secondly, functionalist definitions (Clarke and Byrne 7), such as Durkheim’s, define religion primarily in terms of its social function. What matters, as far as a definition of religion is concerned, is not what you believe, but why you believe it.However, these classical definitions do not really work. I think this is because they try to do too many things. For a strict definition of religion to work, it needs to tell us (i) what religions have in common, (ii) what distinguishes religion on the one hand from non-religion, or everything that is not religion, on the other, and (iii) it needs to tell us something important about religion, what is at the core of religion. This means that a definition of religion has to be in three places at once, so to speak. Furthermore, a definition of religion has to be based on extant religions, but it also needs to have some sort of quasi-predictive capacity, the sort of thing that can be used in a court case regarding, for example, Scientology or Transcendental Meditation.It may be possible to resolve the latter problem by a gradual process of adjustment, a sort of hermeneutic circle of basing a definition on extant religions and applying it to new ones. But what about the other problem, the one of being in three places at once?Another type identified by Clarke and Byrne, in their typology of definitions, is the “family resemblance” definition (11-16). This derives from the later Wittgenstein. The “family resemblance” definition of religion is based on the idea that religions commonly share a number of features, but that no one religion has all of them. For example, there are religious beliefs, doctrines and mythos—or stories and parables. There are rituals and moral codes, institutions and clergy, prayers, spiritual emotions and experiences, etc. This approach is of course less precise than older substantive and functional definitions, but it also avoids some of the problems associated with them.It does so by rethinking the point of defining religion. Instead of being precise and rigorous for the sake of it, it tries to tell us something, to be “productive”, to help us understand religion better. It eschews certainty and embraces doubt. Its insights could be applied to some schools of philosophy (e.g. Heideggerian) and practical spirituality, because it does not focus on what is distinctive about religion. Rather, it focuses on the core of religion, and, secondarily, on what religions have in common. The family resemblance approach has led to a number of “new” definitions (post-Durkheim definitions) being proposed, all of which define religion in a less rigorous, but, I hope, more imaginative and heuristic way.Let me provide a few examples, starting with two contrasting ones. Peter Berger in the late 1960s defined religion as “the audacious attempt to conceive of the entire universe as humanly significant”(37), which implies a consciousness of an anthropocentric sacred cosmos. Later, Alain Touraine said that religion is “the apprehension of human destiny, existence, and death”(213–4), that is, an awareness of human limitations, including doubt. Berger emphasises the high place for human beings in religion, and even a sort of affected certainty, while Touraine emphasises our place as doubters on the periphery, but it seems that religion exists within a tension between these two opposites, and, in a sense, encompasses them both.Richard Holloway, former Bishop of Edinburgh in the Scottish Episcopal Church and arch-nemesis of the conservative Anglicans, such as those from Sydney, defines religion as like good poetry, not bad science. It is easy to understand that he is criticising those who see religion, particularly Christianity, as centrally opposed to Darwin and evolution. Holloway is clearly saying that those people have missed the point of their own faith. By “good poetry”, he is pointing to the significance of storytelling rather than dogma, and an open-ended discussion of ultimate questions that resists the temptation to end with “the moral of the story”. In science (at least before quantum physics), there is no room for doubt, but that is not the case with poetry.John Caputo, in a very energetic book called On Religion, proposes what is probably the boldest of the “new” definitions. He defines religion as “the love of God” (1). Note the contrast with Tylor and Spiro. Caputo does not say “belief in God”; he says “the love of God”. You might ask how you can love someone you don’t believe in, but, in a sense, this paradox is the whole point. When Caputo says “God”, he is not necessarily talking in the usual theistic or even theological terms. By “God”, he means the impossible made possible (10). So a religious person, for Caputo, is an “unhinged lover” (13) who loves the impossible made possible, and the opposite is a “loveless lout” who is only concerned with the latest stock market figures (2–3). In this sense of religious, a committed atheist can be religious and a devout Catholic or Muslim or Hindu can be utterly irreligious (2–3). Doubt can encompass faith and faith can encompass doubt. This is the impossible made possible. Caputo’s approach here has something in common with Nietzsche and especially Kierkegaard, to whom I shall return later.I would like to propose another definition of religion, within the spirit of these “new” definitions of religion that I have been discussing. Religion, at its core, I suggest, is non-propositional and apophatic. When I say that religion is non-propositional, I mean that religion will often enact certain rituals, or tell certain stories, or posit faith in someone, and that propositional statements of doctrine are merely reflections or approximations of this non-propositional core. Faith in God is not a proposition. The Eucharist is not a proposition. Prayer is not, at its core, a proposition. Pilgrimage is not a proposition. And it is these sorts of things that, I suggest, form the core of religion. Propositions are what happen when theologians and academics get their hands on religion, they try to intellectualise it so that it can be made to fit within their area of expertise—our area of expertise. But, that is not where it belongs. Propositions about rituals impose a certainty on them, whereas the ritual itself allows for courage in the face of doubt. The Maundy Thursday service in Western Christianity includes the stripping of the altar to the accompaniment of Psalm 22 (“My God, my God, why hast Thou forsaken me”), ending the service without a dismissal (Latin missa, the origin of the English “mass”) and with the church in darkness. Doubt, confusion, and bewilderment are the heart and soul of this ritual, not orthodox faith as defined propositionally.That said, religion does often involve believing, of some kind (though it is not usually as central as in Christianity). So I say that religion is non-propositional and apophatic. The word “apophatic”, though not the concept, has its roots in Greek Orthodox theology, where St Gregory Palamas argues that any statement about God—and particularly about God’s essence as opposed to God’s energies—must be paradoxical, emphasising God’s otherness, and apophatic, emphasising God’s essential incomprehensibility (Armstrong 393). To make an apophatic statement is to make a negative statement—instead of saying God is king, lord, father, or whatever, we say God is not. Even the most devout believer will recognise a sense in which God is not a king, or a lord, or a father. They will say that God is much greater than any of these things. The Muslim will say “Allahu Akhbar”, which means God is greater, greater than any human description. Even the statement “God exists” is seen to be well short of the mark. Even that is human language, which is why the Cappadocian fathers (Saints Basil the Great, Gregory of Nyssa, and Gregory Naziansus) said that they believed in God, while refusing to say that God exists.So to say that religion is at its core non-propositional is to say that religious beliefs are at their core apophatic. The idea of apophasis is that by a process of constant negation you are led into silence, into a recognition that there is nothing more that can be said. St Thomas Aquinas says that the more things we negate about God, the more we say “God is not…”, the closer we get to what God is (139). Doubt therefore brings us closer to the object of religion than any putative certainties.Apophasis does not only apply to Christianity. I have already indicated that it applies also to Islam, and the statement that God is greater. In Islam, God is said to have 99 names—or at least 99 that have been revealed to human beings. Many of these names are apophatic. Names like The Hidden carry an obviously negative meaning in English, while, etymologically, “the Holy” (al-quddu-s) means “beyond imperfection”, which is a negation of a negation. As-salaam, the All-Peaceful, means beyond disharmony, or disequilibrium, or strife, and, according to Murata and Chittick (65–6), “The Glorified” (as-subbuh) means beyond understanding.In non-theistic religions too, an apophatic way of believing can be found. Key Buddhist concepts include sunyata, emptiness, or the Void, and anatta, meaning no self, the belief or realisation that the Self is illusory. Ask what they believe in instead of the Self and you are likely to be told that you are missing the point, like the Zen pupil who confused the pointing finger with the moon. In the Zen koans, apophasis plays a major part. One well-known koan is “What is the sound of one hand clapping?” Any logical answers will be dismissed, like Thomas Aquinas’s statements about God, until the pupil gets beyond logic and achieves satori, or enlightenment. Probably the most used koan is Mu—Master Joshu is asked if a dog has Buddha-nature and replies Mu, meaning “no” or “nothing”. This is within the context of the principle that everything has Buddha-nature, so it is not logical. But this apophatic process can lead to enlightenment, something better than logic. By plunging again and again in the water of doubt, to use Wittgenstein’s words, we gain something better than certainty.So not only is apophasis present in a range of different religions—and I have given just a few examples—but it is also central to the development of religion in the Axial Age, Karl Jaspers’s term for the period from about 800-200 BCE when the main religious traditions of the world began—monotheism in Israel (which also developed into Christianity and Islam), Hinduism and Buddhism in India, Confucianism and Taoism in China, and philosophical rationalism in Greece. In the early Hindu traditions, there seems to have been a sort of ritualised debate called the Brahmodya, which would proceed through negation and end in silence. Not the silence of someone admitting defeat at the hands of the other, but the silence of recognising that the truth lay beyond them (Armstrong 24).In later Hinduism, apophatic thought is developed quite extensively. This culminates in the idea of Brahman, the One God who is Formless, beyond all form and all description. As such, all representations of Brahman are equally false and therefore all representations are equally true—hence the preponderance of gods and idols on the surface of Hinduism. There is also the development of the idea of Atman, the universal Self, and the Buddhist concept anatta, which I mentioned, is rendered anatman in Sanskrit, literally no Atman, no Self. But in advaita Hinduism there is the idea that Brahman and Atman are the same, or, more accurately, they are not two—hence advaita, meaning “not two”. This is negation, or apophasis. In some forms of present-day Hinduism, such as the International Society for Krishna Consciousness (commonly known as the Hare Krishnas), advaita is rejected. Sometimes this is characterised as dualism with respect to Brahman and Atman, but it is really the negation of non-dualism, or an apophatic negation of the negation.Even in early Hinduism, there is a sort of Brahmodya recounted in the Rig Veda (Armstrong 24–5), the oldest extant religious scripture in the world that is still in use as a religious scripture. So here we are at the beginning of Axial Age religion, and we read this account of creation:Then was not non-existent nor existent: there was no realm of air, no sky beyond it.Death was not then, nor was there aught immortal.Darkness there was: at first concealed in darkness this All was indiscriminated chaos.All that existed then was void and form less.Sages who searched with their heart's thought discovered the existent's kinship in the non-existent.Who verily knows and who can here declare it, whence it was born and whence comes this creation?The Gods are later than this world's production. Who knows then whence it first came into being?He, the first origin of this creation, whether he formed it all or did not form it,Whose eye controls this world in highest heaven, he verily knows it, or perhaps he knows not.(Rig Veda Book 10, Hymn 129, abridged)And it would seem that this is the sort of thought that spread throughout the world as a result of the Axial Age and the later spread of Axial and post-Axial religions.I could provide examples from other religious traditions. Taoism probably has the best examples, though they are harder to relate to the traditions that are more familiar in the West. “The way that is spoken is not the Way” is the most anglicised translation of the opening of the Tao Te Ching. In Sikhism, God’s formlessness and essential unknowability mean that God can only be known “by the Guru’s grace”, to quote the opening hymn of the Guru Granth Sahib.Before I conclude, however, I would like to anticipate two criticisms. First, this may only be applicable to the religions of the Axial Age and their successors, beginning with Hinduism and Buddhism, Taoism and Confucianism, and early Jewish monotheism, followed by Jainism, Christianity, Islam and so on. I would like to find examples of apophasis at the core of other traditions, including Indigenous Australian and Native American ones, for example, but that is work still to be done. Focusing on the Axial Age does historicise the argument, however, at least in contrast with a more universal concept of religion that runs the risk of falling into the ahistorical homo religiosus idea that humans are universally and even naturally religious. Second, this apophatic definition looks a bit elitist, defining religion in terms that are relevant to theologians and “religious virtuosi” (to use Weber’s term), but what about the ordinary believers, pew-fillers, temple-goers? In response to such criticism, one may reply that there is an apophatic strand in what Niebuhr called the religions of the disinherited. In Asia, devotion to the Buddha Amida is particularly popular among the poor, and this involves a transformation of the idea of anatta—no Self—into an external agency, a Buddha who is “without measure”, in terms of in-finite light and in-finite life. These are apophatic concepts. In the Christian New Testament, we are told that God “has chosen the foolish things of this world to shame the wise, the weak to shame the strong…, the things that are not to shame the things that are” (1 Corinthians 1:27). The things that are not are the apophatic, and these are allied with the foolish and the weak, not the educated and the powerful.One major reason for emphasising the role of apophasis in religious thought is to break away from the idea that the core of religion is an ethical one. This is argued by a number of “liberal religious” thinkers in different religious traditions. I appreciate their reasons, and I am reluctant to ally myself with their opponents, who include the more fundamentalist types as well as some vocal critics of religion like Dawkins and Hitchens. However, I said that I would return to Kierkegaard, and the reason is this. Kierkegaard distinguishes between the aesthetic, the ethical and the religious. Of course, religion has an aesthetic and an ethical dimension, and in some religions these dimensions are particularly important, but that does not make them central to religion as such. Kierkegaard regarded the religious sphere as radically different from the aesthetic or even the ethical, hence his treatment of the story of Abraham going to Mount Moriah to sacrifice his son, in obedience to God’s command. His son was not killed in the end, but Abraham was ready to do the deed. This is not ethical. This is fundamentally and scandalously unethical. Yet it is religious, not because it is unethical and scandalous, but because it pushes us to the limits of our understanding, through the waters of doubt, and then beyond.Were I attempting to criticise religion, I would say it should not go there, that, to misquote Wittgenstein, the limits of my understanding are the limits of my world, whereof we cannot understand thereof we must remain silent. Were I attempting to defend religion, I would say that this is its genius, that it can push back the limits of understanding. I do not believe in value-neutral sociology, but, in this case, I am attempting neither. ReferencesAldridge, Alan. Religion in the Contemporary World. Cambridge: Polity, 2000.Aquinas, Thomas. “Summa of Christian Teaching”. An Aquinas Reader. ed. Mary Clarke. New York: Doubleday, 1972.Armstrong, Karen. The Great Transformation. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 2006.Barker, Eileen. New Religious Movements: a Practical Introduction. London: HMSO, 1989.Berger, Peter. The Social Reality of Religion. Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1973.Caputo, John. On Religion. London: Routledge, 2001.Clarke, Peter, and Peter Byrne, eds. Religion Defined and Explained. New York: St Martin’s Press. 1993.Durkheim, Emile. The Elementary Forms of Religious Life. New York: Free Press, 1995.Holloway, Richard. Doubts and Loves. Edinburgh: Caqnongate, 2002.Jaspers, Karl. The Origin and Goal of History. Westport, Connecticut: Greenwood Press, 1977.Kierkegaard, Søren. Either/Or. London: Penguin, 1992.———. Fear and Trembling. London: Penguin, 1986.Murata, Sachiko, and William Chittick. The Vision of Islam. St Paul, Minnesota: Paragon House, 1994.Niebuhr, H. Richard. The Social Sources of Denominationalism. New York: Holt, 1929.Spiro, Melford. “Religion: Problems of Definition and Explanation.” Anthropological Approaches to the Study of Religion. Ed. Michael Banton. London: Tavistock, 1966. 85–126.Touraine, Alain. The Post-Industrial Society. London: Wilwood House, 1974.Tylor, Edward. Primitive Culture. London: Murray, 1903.Weber, Max. The Sociology of Religion. Boston: Beacon Press, 1991.Wittgenstein, Ludwig. Remarks on Frazer’s Golden Bough. Nottingham: Brynmill Press, 1979.

The thesis at hand presents a critical analysis of the writings of the contemporary, 20th century Muslim scholar, theologian and exegete Said Nursi (1876-1960) of Turkey. Special reference is given in this thesis to his views and writings on theodicy and the problem of evil from the perspective of Islām. This thesis is an attempt to discover the Qur'anic narrative of evil (sharr) as deviating from the human perception of evil in this world; to analyze Nursi's magnum opus on the definition of sharr and its correspondence to the Qur'anic definition thereof; and to challenge Nursi's works with the thoughts and views of his predecessors and contemporaries in order to try to filter new insights and offer possible solutions to theodicy and the problem of evil through Nursi's Risale-i Nur Collection. The methodology that has been used in this study follows Izutsu's example as seen in Ethico-Religious Concepts of the Qur'an and God and Man in the Koran: namely to conduct an inductive investigation of the term sharr in the Qur'ān and Nursi's Risale-i Nur Collection. There are several issues that can be considered to be the main findings of this study: 1) human perception of evil in this world to a great extent at odds with the Qur'anic definition of sharr, 2) new theological concept called 'negative worship', establishing a relation between sharr and worship, 3) relationship between theodicy and the Divine Names of God, 4) link between the human 'I' (ana) and, if misused, its encouragement for all kinds of ashrār (pl. sharr), 5) original interpretation to the Qur'anic verse [2:30], 6) sharr, ana and free choice (juz'ī ikhtiyār) consist of the same nature and finally 7) suffering of on-human beings part of the field of theodicy.

Evil and suffering are a constant reality of this world and major catastrophes and issues such as swine flu and bird flu gain enormous relief funding, media coverage and frantic government action, yet HIV/AIDS, a cause of immeasurable suffering after years of being in the public spotlight receded into the background. This study grapples with evil and suffering in the light of creation, reconciliation, renewal and consummation from the viewpoint of a diversity of cultures and religions, with a particular focus on HIV/AIDS. The cluster of sin, evil and suffering are reflected upon and this revolves around five angles: firstly, multicultural and multi-religious sense making God-human-world approaches; secondly, the mystery of the simultaneity of the close connection and radical otherness of: God, being human and the natural world; thirdly, the full Gospel of God’s grand acts of creation, reconciliation, renewal and consummation; fourthly, different approaches towards texts, theories, natural processes and human doings; and fifthly, the multidimensionality of God, human beings and the natural world. In the thesis the origin of evil and suffering is discussed, which leads to a discussion of dualist views, amongst others, Zoroastrianism and its influence on modern monotheistic religions. Moreover, the response of the major faith groups towards evil and suffering are discussed and consensibly negotiated with the purpose of achieving better co-operation between faith groups in their tackling of HIV/AIDS. An attempt at establishing the outlines of a theology of HIV/AIDS is considered as well as the role, value and enhancement of faith counseling. Modern and postmodern views of evil and suffering are touched upon especially regarding the close proximity of God, humanity and the natural world to the sufferer. Despite significant differences in the various faith systems, sufficient commonality around respect for human beings is found to exist. Finally, in terms of consensible negotiation of portions of the various scriptures a way forward is envisaged that undergirds the notion of solidarity in support of HIV/AIDS sufferers in various faith systems.
Systematic Theology and Theological Ethics
D.Th. (Systematic Theology)

Jihadi-Salafi narratives of martyrdom-seeking operations are filled with praise for what they label the exemplary self-renunciative acts of their martyrs performed as a model of the earliest traditions of Islam. While many studies evaluate the biographies of these would-be martyrs for evidence of social, psychological, political, or economic strain in an effort to rationalize what are often labeled “suicide bombings,” this book argues that through their legal arguments debating martyrdom-seeking operations, Jihadi-Salafis, including those fighting for al-Qaʿida, ISIS, and their affiliates, craft a theodicy meant to address the suffering and oppression faced by the global Muslim community. Taking as its source material legal arguments (fatwas), texts, pamphlets, magazines, forum posts, videos, and audio files from authors sympathetic to both al-Qaʿida and ISIS on the subjects of martyrdom operations, jurisprudence, and political philosophies, this book reveals that the Jihadi-Salafi legal debates on martyrdom-seeking rearrange the basic objectives (maqāṣid) of the Shariʿa around the principles of maximizing the general welfare (maṣlaḥa) and promoting religion (dīn) above all other concerns—including the preservation of life. This utilitarian turn opens the possibility for formulating a meaningful engagement and critique of Jihadi-Salafi legal interpretation and theories of warfare within a broader, just-war framework. However, as the jurists and propagandists of ISIS demonstrate, this turn also opens the possibility for the utilization of self-renunciative violence as engendering modes of state formation.