Sleep Training, Day Care, and Swim Lessons: Skeptical Theism and the Parent-Child Analogy

Faith and Philosophy: Journal of the Society of Christian Faith and Philosophy: Journal of the Society of Christian

Philosophers Philosophers

Volume 40 Issue 1 Article 2

1-1-2023

Sleep Training, Day Care, and Swim Lessons: Skeptical Theism Sleep Training, Day Care, and Swim Lessons: Skeptical Theism

and the Parent-Child Analogy and the Parent-Child Analogy

Dolores G. Morris

The University of South Florida

, [email protected]

Follow this and additional works at: https://place.asburyseminary.edu/faithandphilosophy

Recommended Citation Recommended Citation

Morris, Dolores G. (2023) "Sleep Training, Day Care, and Swim Lessons: Skeptical Theism and the Parent-

Child Analogy,"

Faith and Philosophy: Journal of the Society of Christian Philosophers

: Vol. 40: Iss. 1,

Article 2.

DOI: 10.37977/faithphil.2023.40.1.2

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FAITH AND PHILOSOPHY Vol. 40 No. 1 January 2023

doi: 10.37977/faithphil.2023.40.1.2

pp.24–42

SLEEP TRAINING, DAY CARE, AND SWIM LESSONS:

SKEPTICAL THEISM AND THE PARENT-CHILD

ANALOGY

Dolores G. Morris

Erik Wielenberg recently invoked the parent-child analogy in an argument

against Christian theism. The argument relies on the claim that a loving par-

ent would never allow her child to feel abandoned in the midst of what feels

like gratuitous suffering. In this paper, I offer three clear counterexamples to

Wielenberg’s central premise. At the same time, a successful counterexample

does not a robust theology of suffering make. To that end, and with a

careful eye towards anti-theodical concerns, I defend the need for a more

proactive Christian philosophical examination of the role of suffering in a

meaningfullife.

Why do You stand far away, L?

Why do You hide Yourself in times of trouble?

-Psalm 10:1

1. Introduction

In a recent paper, Erik Wielenberg presents an argument against the ex-

istence of the Christian God on the basis of “apparently gratuitous suf-

fering and abandonment.”

Crucially, this is not an argument for atheism

in general. Instead, its primary target is the God afrmed by Christian

skeptical theists — especially those who invoke the parent-child anal-

ogy in response to the evidential argument. Indeed, it is this very anal-

ogy upon which Wielenberg’s argument is built. His claim is not merely

that the analogy is insufcient as a defense of skeptical theism, but rather

that “the parent-child analogy tells against rather than for” skeptical the-

ism’s central claim.

Thus, Wielenberg’s argument proceeds by analogy

Wielenberg, “The Parent–Child Analogy and the Limits of Skeptical Theism.”

Emphasis mine; specically, Wielenberg (306) uses the parent-child analogy to under-

mine what he calls (SC2): “Every actual instance of inscrutable evil, E, is such that it would

not be surprising if there are possible goods, evils, or entailments between good and evil that

SKEPTICAL THEISM AND THE PARENT-CHILD ANALOGY 25

against Christian theism from what he takes to be “a central element of the

parent-child relationship.”

Wielenberg’s argument proceeds as follows:

1. A loving parent would never permit her children to experience pro-

longed, intense, and apparently gratuitous suffering together with a sense

she has abandoned them or never existed in the rst place if she could

avoid doing so.

2. If the Christian God exists, then the God-human relationship is relevantly

like the parent-child relationship.

3. So, if the Christian God exists, then He never permits humans to experi-

ence apparently gratuitous suffering and abandonment if He can avoid

doing so (from 1 and 2)

4. But if the Christian God exists, then He does permit His children to expe-

rience apparently gratuitous suffering and abandonment when He could

avoid doing so.

5. Therefore, the Christian God does not exist. (from 3 and 4.)

This argument is importantly different from standard evidential argu-

ments in one key respect: it does not require the reality of gratuitous suf-

fering. There is no point at which the argument rests on an inference from

apparently gratuitous to actually gratuitous suffering or abandonment.

Thus, Wielenberg writes: “Because the argument does not employ any

sort of noseeum inference, on the face of things at least skeptical theism

provides no response to it.”

My purpose in this paper is twofold. First, I offer a series of

counterexamples to Wielenberg’s rst premise:

1. A loving parent would never permit her children to experience prolonged,

intense, and apparently gratuitous suffering together with a sense she

has abandoned them or never existed in the rst place if she could avoid

doing so.

By bearing in mind (a) the real experiences of very young children and

(b) the surprisingly high bar set by a close reading of this premise, I will

show that the Christian can and should reject this claim. Loving parents

sometimes do permit their children to experience (what feels to them like)

prolonged, intense, and apparently gratuitous suffering together with a

sense they have abandoned them even when they could avoid doing so.

Thus, my rst task is to defend skeptical theism from Wielenberg’s argu-

ment by rejecting this rst premise.

are beyond the ken of human beings (but not beyond the ken of an omniscient God) that

would justify God in permitting E.”

Wielenberg, “The Parent–Child Analogy,” 308.

Wielenberg, “The Parent–Child Analogy,” 307.

Wielenberg, “The Parent–Child Analogy,” 309.

Faith and Philosophy26

At rst glance, rejecting this premise seems cruel. I grant this; I will ad-

dress the apparent cruelty. I grant, further, that my counterexamples will,

in some sense, feel profoundly unsatisfying. I remain condent that they

are successful counterexamples to Wielenberg’s premise. My second task,

therefore, is to defend these counterexamples from two likely objections:

(1) that they do not do what they are intended to do, and (2) that they

trivialize real suffering. I submit that they do do the former and do not do

the latter. I intend to show that it is only at rst glance that these appar-

ently unsatisfying counterexamples are unsatisfying; more careful reec-

tion both strengthens their force and claries Wielenberg’s argument. The

counterexamples work.

But what of the second objection? The examples I propose will face

the challenge faced by all theodicy — that of minimizing or “explaining

away” the very real suffering of human beings. I will conclude this paper

by anticipating and disarming this nal objection. I am profoundly sym-

pathetic to the anti-theodical concerns about, in Kilby’s words, “making

meaning from, and thereby being reconciled to, other people’s suffering.”

At the same time, I am convinced that the Christian theist ought to be

similarly concerned about the corollary risk — that of sending the mes-

sage to suffering Christians that their suffering could never be redeemed,

that their lives must be seen as a testament against the existence of a

lovingGod.

It is especially important that the Christian be able to reject the rst

premise of Wielenberg’s argument because, by my lights, there is no

avoiding the truth of his fourth premise.

4. But if the Christian God exists, then He does permit His children to expe-

rience apparently gratuitous suffering and abandonment when He could

avoid doing so.

It is an uncomfortable truth that the God of Christianity and Judaism does,

indeed, allow his creation to experience divine hiddenness in the midst of

extreme suffering. Wielenberg is right that such experiences are common.

I would go further and note that they are central to accounts found in

Hebrew and Christian scriptures. There is no escaping the cry of Christ

on the cross for the Christian theist, “My God, My God, why have you

forsaken me?” Nor can we ignore the sheer number of Psalms of lament

or the oft-cited words of C.S. Lewis and Mother Theresa.

J.P. Moreland

writes, “There is no easy answer to the sense of abandonment by God that

many of us have experienced.”

Many theists reject the claim that some suffering is gratuitous;

a Christian could likewise reject a premise claiming that God actually

Kilby, “Negative Theology and Meaningless Suffering,” 98.

See, for instance: Wielenberg, “The Parent–Child Analogy,” 302, and Moreland, Finding

Quiet, 155.

Moreland, Finding Quiet, 155.

SKEPTICAL THEISM AND THE PARENT-CHILD ANALOGY 27

abandons people in the midst of their suffering. What she cannot reject,

at least not without great cost, is the claim that some people feel that they

have been abandoned by God in their darkest hour. To deny this would

be to deny the rst-person experience of far too many people — biblical,

historical, and contemporary.

Careful readers will note that I have, so far, only afrmed most of prem-

ise four, dropping its nal clause. It might be possible either to attempt a

theodicy or to appeal to inscrutability simply by disputing this nal clause

and insisting that God could not “avoid doing so.” I don’t think this is

the best way to proceed, but I will revisit the issue below. If we assume,

with Wielenberg, that God could have avoided allowing his children to

feel abandoned in the midst of suffering, then two options remain for the

Christian skeptical theist: either (a) God is not like a parent after all (and so

premise 2 is false) or (b) parents can, and sometimes do, justiably allow

their children to feel abandoned in the midst of what feels like gratuitous

suffering. There are merits to the rst option; God is clearly not merely or

exactly like a human parent. Still, I think the analogy is worth preserving.

God is, at least in some important respects, like a parent. For that reason,

I believe the best path forward for the Christian is to take the latter option

and reject premise 1.

2. Counterexamples

But how? What kind of a parent would permit her child to feel aban-

doned in the midst of profound suffering? Wielenberg concedes that

“some sufciently creative philosopher” might be able to construct such a

counterexample, but he deems such instances likely to “occur very rarely

or never in the course of a typical parent-child relationship.”

To the con-

trary, I offer a series of entirely ordinary counterexamples. If we are careful

to distinguish perceived abandonment from actual abandonment, I think

the answer to the question “what kind of parent would permit this?” is:

“Most parents, perhaps even all of them.” This is especially true if we a

believe, following Wykstra, that our epistemic position relative to God is

analogous to that of an infant and her parent.

2.1. Sleep Training

Consider a loving parent engaged in the process of sleep-training an in-

fant. While this label applies to a wide range of practices, I will use it to

denote varieties of the cry it out approach, up to and including the so-

called extinction method. I may not have managed to let my infants cry for

prolonged periods of time, but I know countless men and women who

fully embraced the cry it out approach — and they loved their babies as

much as I loved my own. What’s more, my own sleep-averse infant was,

Wielenberg, “The Parent–Child Analogy,” 310.

Wykstra, “Rowe’s Noseeum Arguments from Evil.”

Faith and Philosophy28

by all appearances, absolutely certain that he had been utterly abandoned

and forgotten. Judging by his response, my meager ten-minute timer was

an eternity to him. How much more for those infants and toddlers who

wail for an hour or more without reprieve? Surely, they take themselves to

have been abandoned in the midst of signicant and prolonged suffering.

It is one thing to reject or condemn this approach to parenting; it is another

thing entirely to say that no loving parent would ever use it.

2.2. Daycare

Still, there are those who condemn the cry it out approach precisely because

of the infant’s perceived abandonment. This second example is perhaps

less controversial: many parents leave unwilling, despairing children in

daycare or a new and unfamiliar school. Sometimes they even leave their

children when they know their child is in pain. Teething hurts, but a teeth-

ing child rarely merits a day off work for a parent. Good, loving, devoted

parents sometimes leave their hurting children in the care of someone

else, even when the child makes clear that it feels like abandonment.

2.3. Swim Lessons

So ordinary and typical is this experience that my third example unfolded

organically while I was writing this paper. I have a friend whose children

need to learn to swim. We live in Florida; even those of us without pools

have neighbors with pools. It is vitally important that children learn to

swim at an early age here. (A staggering ninety-eight children drowned

in Florida last year.) For this friend, swim lessons are the best solution to

this problem. The trouble, of course, is that one of her children hates these

lessons. Worse still, being able to see his mother increases his distress. If

he can see her, he calls out for her. “Hold me! I want to be with you!” It is

heart-wrenching, and yet — he needs to learn to swim. The instructor’s

solution has been to move the lessons further from his mother. He still

hates going to the lessons, but he is better able to endure them when his

mother is not nearby. Here’s the point: to a swim instructor and, I think, to

a parent, this makes sense. To the child? He experiences this as suffering,

and almost certainly feels that his mother has hidden herself in the midst of

his suffering. Worse yet, he is correct. She can prepare him in advance, she

can comfort him when the lesson has completed, but during the lesson she

must let him be. She must hide.

Of course, none of these three counterexamples is an instance of actual

abandonment in the midst of prolonged suffering. It is crucial that we re-

member that this does not preclude them from serving as successful coun-

terexamples. All that is required is that there be a loving parent who allows

her child to feel that she has been abandoned in the midst of what feels to the

child like prolonged and gratuitous suffering, even when the experience

was preventable. It is not an exaggeration to state that infants, toddlers,

and even preschoolers often respond to having been left in a loving and

SKEPTICAL THEISM AND THE PARENT-CHILD ANALOGY 29

safe environment as if they had been abandoned. A crying infant, safe and

secure in a crib with parents nearby, has not been abandoned; a teething

toddler left crying in the classroom has not been abandoned;a frightened

child in a pool with an instructor has not been abandoned. Nevertheless,

these children often feel abandoned. Feeling abandoned does not consti-

tute being abandoned. Just as apparently gratuitous suffering may not be

actually gratuitous, the feeling of abandonment need not be veridical.

It will be helpful to slow down and take a closer look at what a success-

ful counterexample to premise 1 would require. Recall the premise:

1. A loving parent would never permit her children to experience pro-

longed, intense, and apparently gratuitous suffering together with a

sense she has abandoned them or never existed in the rst place if she

could avoid doing so.

There are four important aspects of the claim being made here; a success-

ful counterexample must include all four. First, the suffering involved

should be “prolonged, intense, and apparently gratuitous.” Second, it

must be accompanied by the experience of abandonment (and, perhaps,

the worry that the parent never existed in the rst place). Third, it must

be the case that the parent could have spared the child this experience

and chose not to. Because the experience itself is twofold — suffering

and abandonment— there are two corresponding means of prevention:

prevent the suffering or prevent the feeling of abandonment. To satisfy

this requirement, an ideal counterexample would be one in which both

aspects were avoidable. Either might sufce, but to address the core of

Wielenberg’s concern, the strongest response will be one according to

which the parent could have spared the child the suffering and could

have spared the sense of abandonment. Finally, for a successful coun-

terexample, we should be able to say with condence that the parent

is loving.

3. Sleep Training

Does sleep training fulll the rst of these criteria? I think it does, but we

must take care to remember whose experience settles the matter. Were

there a way to ask the howling infant, it seems likely that she would

describe her suffering as “prolonged, intense, and apparently gratu-

itous.” There is something odd, of course, about putting these words in

the mouth of a pre-verbal baby, but that shouldn’t be held against the

skeptical theistic defense. After all, it is precisely this degree of incom-

mensurability that the skeptical theist afrms. Just as an infant could not

possibly hope to understand, let alone articulate, the motivations of a

sleep training parent, so too are we unable to understand the motivations

of an eternal God.

Wielenberg, “The Parent–Child Analogy,” 307.

Faith and Philosophy30

Likewise, the sleep training infant certainly seems to experience per-

ceived abandonment. Whether these feelings rise to the level of doubting

the existence of a parent or not I couldn’t say, but I don’t see why they

couldn’t. An infant wailing for a parent who will not come is emblematic

of the feeling of abandonment and its resulting despair. That the parent is

nearby, that the infant is safe and secure, does not mitigate the experience

as an experience of abandonment and despair.

The third and fourth criteria require a bit more work. In particular, we

must show both that the parent could have avoided the suffering and

that, in failing to do so, she nevertheless acted as a loving parent. The

tension between these two requirements is the heart of the challenge: why

would a loving parent not prevent her child from experiencing suffering

and abandonment unless out of desperate necessity? In fact, some read-

ers might be inclined to think that this tension is precisely why cry it out

methods are, as one author wrote, “a form of need-neglect.” Unless we can

say with condence that loving parents sometimes allow their children to

cry it out even when they could avoid doing so, this counterexample will

not sufce.

Despite initial appearances to the contrary, the truth of this claim —

and, with it, the satisfaction of the third and fourth criteria — is demon-

strable, perhaps even to the point of being indisputable. To see why, we

need only take seriously the terms of Wielenberg’s argument. Premise 1

does not claim that a loving parent would prevent experiences of suffer-

ing and abandonment “unless there was some great good she could not

obtain without doing so.” This is by design; it is the distinguishing feature

of this argument. Suppose it did begin with such a premise:

1* A loving parent would never permit her children to experience pro-

longed, intense, and apparently gratuitous suffering together with a

sense she has abandoned them or never existed in the rst place unless

there was some great good she could not obtain without doing so.

2* If the Christian God exists, then the God-human relationship is relevantly

like the parent-child relationship.

3* So, if the Christian God exists, then He never permits humans to

experience apparently gratuitous suffering and abandonment unless

there was some great good she could not obtain without doing so.

There is some empirical evidence as well which may support the claim that crying

infants experience (cry it out) sleep training as suffering and abandonment. Their cortisol

levels seem to be inversely related to maternal responsiveness. I say “seem to be” because

the science is not altogether clear. (See, for example, this paper, in which only some of the

authors’ hypotheses were conrmed: Philbrook and Teti, “Associations between Bedtime

and Nighttime Parenting and Infant Cortisol in the First Year.”) If we combine the increase

in cortisol with the plausible hypothesis that infants self-soothe by seeking out a caregiver,

it is nearly denitional that unattended crying infants experience suffering and apparent

abandonment. (In support of this latter hypothesis, see: Cassels, “Extinction Sleep Training,”

and Navaez, “Dangers of ‘Crying It Out.’”)

SKEPTICAL THEISM AND THE PARENT-CHILD ANALOGY 31

4* But if the Christian God exists, then He does permit His children to expe-

rience apparently gratuitous suffering and abandonment when there is

no great good he could not obtain without doing so.

5* Therefore, the Christian God does not exist. (from 3 and 4)

If this were the argument, premise 1 would be nearly impossible to reject.

What loving parent would allow her child to feel abandoned in the midst

of suffering for no good reason? This new premise is much stronger, but it is

not what Wielenberg’s premise says.

More importantly, it cannot be what Wielenberg intends. This is not

a premise in need of minor revision. This revision would not be minor.

Changing premise 1 in this way would require the corollary change that

yields premise 4*. Where premise 4 requires only that the experience of

abandonment amidst suffering really does occur, the revised 4* adds a fur-

ther claim: that some such experiences are gratuitous. After all, if we sup-

pose that God could have abstained from creating humanity, and we grant

that some people feel abandoned by God while they are suffering, then

we have all that we need to afrm premise 4. To afrm 4*, we must add

the further claim that God had no overriding good which might justify these

experiences. We must agree that these instances of suffering are gratuitous.

We must, contra Wielenberg, make that dreaded noseeum inference. For this

reason, Wielenberg’s rst premise must be taken at face value: as claiming

that a loving parent would do anything in her power, at any cost, to prevent

her child from ever feeling abandoned in the midst of great suffering.

With this in mind, it is clear that loving parents sometimes allow their

infants to cry it out when they could avoid doing so. We could go further

and note the substantial goods sometimes made possible by this decision:

increased maternal mental health, an improved marriage, greater eco-

nomic stability, emotional availability for older siblings, and any number

of goods that many of us take for granted. We could, as well, note the

signicant economic and racial disparities in the adoption of infant sleep

practices, even within the United States. We hardly need to consult a study

to understand why an overworked and underpaid single mother might

choose the simplest path to better sleep, whether that be bed-sharing or a

few days of the “extinction method.”

We could explore these motivating

factors, but we need not. In order to undermine the truth of premise 1, all

that is required is that we show that loving parents sometimes let their

children cry it out when they could avoid doing so. It is possible to priori-

tize attending to a crying child above all else. It is typically possible, even

for the most desperate of parents, to stay by the side of your infant at all

costs — even at the cost of maternal depression, economic hardship, and

ill health. If loving parents sometimes allow their child to feel abandoned

in the midst of avoidable suffering, premise 1 is false. Crucially, that a de-

cision is justiable does not sufce to show that it is unavoidable.

Gaydos et al., “Revisiting Safe Sleep Recommendations for African-American Infants.”

Faith and Philosophy32

4. The First Objection

There is an obvious sense in which this counterexample seems inade-

quate. After all, many parents nd themselves in challenging circum-

stances which render the cry it out approach to sleep training, if not strictly

necessary, then something akin to unavoidable. Surely, we can distinguish

between those parents who let their children cry so that they can watch a

new show on Netix and those who do so as a last resort to facilitate a re-

turn to work made necessary by extreme poverty. Furthermore, the kinds

of pressing concerns that might compel desperate parents to let their un-

attended infants cry are distinctly human concerns. The God who “neither

slumbers nor sleeps” has no such excuses.

Even if God is like a parent

in some ways, He is surely not like a parent in these ways. In short, there

seems to be an important difference between those who choose the extinc-

tion method for their own convenience and those who do so out of practical

necessity — and an even greater difference between sleep-deprived hu-

man parents and God. It is worth considering whether these differences

undermine the success of this counterexample.

I am condent that they do not. On the contrary, I maintain that neither

of these distinctions, no matter their plausibility, has any bearing whatsoever

on the success of this counterexample. Suppose we afrm the rst and in-

sist on a morally relevant difference between the two sets of human parents.

Is this not a difference of justicatory reasons? If we feel that loving parents

might permit this suffering for substantial practical gains, but never for self-

ish convenience, it must be because we understand that the goods gained by

the former outweigh the suffering felt by the child. In contrast, the suffering

permitted in the latter scenario seems to be gratuitous. There is no alterna-

tive explanation; ex hypothesi, the only difference between the sets of parents

is their motivation. The desperate parents permit suffering to obtain some

great good; the Netix parents just want a casual evening together. (As a

brief but important aside, I suspect that some loving parents do, in fact, allow

their children to cry it out so that they can watch Netix together. I am not

inclined to set the bar for loving parents so high as to exclude this possibility.)

This is also why the cited differences between human parents and God

are, in this context, ultimately irrelevant. Wielenberg’s argument is not

supposed to be about gratuitous suffering; it is not supposed to require a

noseeum inference. As written, premise 1 says the following:

1. A loving parent would never permit her children to experience prolonged,

intense, and apparently gratuitous suffering together with a sense she has

abandoned them or never existed in the rst place if she could avoid do-

ing so.

The nal clause is of central importance. Undoubtedly, much of what is

unavoidable to us is avoidable to God. Even so, we must remain careful

Psalm 121. I am grateful to an anonymous reviewer for helpful comments pertaining

to this section.

SKEPTICAL THEISM AND THE PARENT-CHILD ANALOGY 33

not to conate avoidable with avoidable at no signicant cost. Plenty of

justiable suffering is nevertheless avoidable; unavoidable sets a much

higher standard than does justiable. If loving parents sometimes per-

mit their children to experience avoidable suffering and abandon-

ment, then this premise is false; it remains false even if those parents

only do so in cases where there is a substantial good to be gained. (It is

also worth noting that the disputed premise makes a claim about lov-

ing parents in general; logically speaking, a human counterexample

should sufce.)

For these reasons, the fact that (a) some parents have more to gain from

allowing their infant to cry it out, and (b) God lacks analogous reasons for

allowing his children to feel abandoned in the midst of suffering, has no

bearing whatsoever on the truth of premise 1 or the success of this argument.

If this feels wrong, it may be that Wielenberg’s argument secures much of

its rhetorical force from an implicit noseeum inference, after all.

5. Daycare

The second counterexample succeeds, as well. The teething toddler who

has been left at daycare (a) is in pain, (b) feels as if he has been abandoned

by his parent while suffering, and (c) feels that no good reason could jus-

tify this abandonment.

For some children, daycare is difcult on a good

day. Whether it be teething pain, a diaper-rash, or residual symptoms

from a waning illness, those children are sometimes left in a daycare set-

ting with the added stress of physical pain. It is my contention that the

parents who allow these children to suffer in this way may nevertheless

count as loving parents. It is also my contention that the love of their par-

ents does not prevent those children from feeling as if they have been

abandoned in the midst of signicant, prolonged suffering. Wielenberg

claims that a successful counterexample would require creative thinking,

invoking scenarios that would “occur very rarely or never in the course of

a typical parent-child relationship.”

I maintain, to the contrary, that it is

so common as to be ordinary.

This suffering is often avoidable. Although the general use of daycare

is a practical necessity for many parents, it would be difcult to show

that it is strictly unavoidable. Harder still would be to show that it is un-

avoidable even on those days when a child is in pain. What might make

such a choice unavoidable? Economic need? The threat of losing a job that

is a great good to your family? Neither will sufce; each requires an ap-

peal to an outweighing good which might justify the ensuing suffering.

To say that some suffering is, on balance, worth it for the family — to

say, even, that it is worth it for the good of the child — is not to say that it is

Depending on the age of the child, it is difcult to say whether or not the child could

come to doubt the existence of her parents. I will return to the hiddenness aspect of the

argument in the conclusion of this paper.

Wielenberg, “The Parent–Child Analogy,” 310.

Faith and Philosophy34

unavoidable. If Wielenberg’s argument is to avoid the noseeum inference,

it cannot appeal to a sense of unavoidable that relies upon the weighing of

goods andharms.

6. Swim Lessons

This nal counterexample invokes a true anecdote shared by a loving

mother in my own life: a child suffering through swim lessons. This last

case includes details which will prove to be philosophically relevant, so

they are worth repeating here. The story involved a young boy (age four)

who was substantially distressed by his daily swim lessons. To minimize

this distress, the instructor asked his mother to stay out of sight for the du-

ration of the lesson. She complied. After all, Florida is an especially high-

risk state for childhood drownings. Swimming is an essential life skill, the

earlier the better.

Can swim lessons really serve as an example of suffering and abandon-

ment? Lest we be inclined to dismiss as benign such an ordinary life ex-

perience, we would be wise to remember that suffering is in the eye of

the sufferer. Presumably, the child who is learning to swim is not in any

physical pain. Even so, he is suffering. He may be cold, he may feel he is

drowning, he may be afraid of the instructor, or the pool drains, or any

number of things. The fears of a four-year-old are not always rational; nei-

ther are they always proportional to objective danger. Like suffering, the

experience of time is also relative. A half hour of misery to a four-year-old

could easily count to that four-year-old as “prolonged suffering.”

Furthermore, he almost certainly felt abandoned by his mother in the

midst of this suffering. This feeling would be reasonable; his mother was

actively hiding from him while he endured what was, to him, the worst

half-hour of his day. Surely, she warned him; surely, she did her best to

explain why she had to remove herself from the situation. Just as surely,

these preparations could not guarantee that he would not feel abandoned

in his more difcult moments. Finally, this suffering is avoidable. His

mother could have allowed him to quit, despite her concerns about his

safety; she could have insisted on staying poolside, despite his increased

agitation. Instead, she allowed her son to experience “prolonged, intense,

and apparently gratuitous suffering together with a sense she has aban-

doned [him]” when she, indisputably, “could avoid doing so.”

It isn’t enough to say that a loving parent could make the choice that this

mother made. I submit that, in these circumstances, she made the loving

choice. (This is not to say that it was the only loving choice available, but

that it was, in many ways, more loving than the immediate alternatives.)

Had she withdrawn him from swim lessons, he would have lost this op-

portunity to learn a life-saving skill. He may even have experienced an

increase in, or solidication of, his fear of water. Had she refused to hide

during the lessons, she would have increased his distress. As the instruc-

tor noted, her presence was an unhelpful distraction. Finally, in the state

SKEPTICAL THEISM AND THE PARENT-CHILD ANALOGY 35

that has the awful distinction of ranking rst in the nation for the “unin-

tentional drowning death rate among children ages one to four years,”

pulling your child from swim lessons is a dangerous move.

7. Extending the Counterexamples

I am convinced that my friend acted as a loving parent when she allowed

her son to feel abandoned in the midst of what felt like prolonged suffer-

ing. Still, we could strengthen this counterexample. Suppose her child was

not a neurotypical 4-year-old; suppose he had been an active toddler, or

a young child with a signicant cognitive disability, or a neurodivergent

child with an especially strong aversion to the feeling of wetness. These

children are not immune from drowning. On the contrary, some neurodi-

vergent children are at a signicantly increased risk.

More broadly, when we consider the experiences of cognitively disabled

children and adults, or those of any children in need of serious life-saving

medical care, we nd further counterexamples. Many of the former will

have a signicantly more difcult time understanding why they are not

always able to be with their preferred caregiver; many of the latter will

have to endure things like prolonged hospitalizations and the isolation of

an ICU ward, coupled with scary and painful medical procedures. These

parents do not want their children to feel abandoned. And yet, because

they want their children to be well, they must sometimes allow those chil-

dren to have that experience — not because they could not do otherwise,

but because they could not do otherwise except at great cost to the child.

There remains one aspect of Wielenberg’s premise that I have not ade-

quately addressed. It is unclear whether the children in my counterexamples

ever come to doubt the existence of their parents. Might Wielenberg strengthen

his argument simply by changing the “or” in premise 1 to an “and?”:

1*. A loving parent would never permit her children to experience pro-

longed, intense, and apparently gratuitous suffering together with a

sense she has abandoned them [and] never existed in the rst place if

she could avoid doing so.

Setting aside the complications such a change would engender, I want

simply to note that this change would not save Wielenberg’s argument.

Even this much stronger claim is easily refuted. To be sure, the circum-

stances surrounding a counterexample to this revised premise would be

a less mundane than my preceding examples. Nevertheless, they are not

difcult to imagine.

Some parents of very young infants have to deploy for months or years

at a time. They do so knowing they may not come home. Surely, on some

such occasions, the children may be sick or injured at the time of deploy-

ment. Other parents face the far more difcult choice of leaving their child

Florida Department of Health, “Drowning Prevention.”

Autism Society of Florida, “Drowning Prevention.”

Faith and Philosophy36

with extended family for months, for years, or for the duration of their

childhood. Most strikingly, there are parts of the world in which the sur-

est way to get your infant the treatment she needs for her cancer, for her

devastating birth defect, for her life-threatening ailment of any kind, is to

allow her to be adopted by parents in a wealthier nation. Sometimes, as

heartbreaking as it must be, the loving thing to do is to allow your child

to live a life in which you will be forgotten. That this is the result of awful

circumstances, that it is almost certainly a sign of some great injustice,

does not mitigate this reality. If any loving parent has ever sent her sick

child away for care, knowing that the cost of doing so is their relationship,

then even this revised premise 1 is false. Loving parents sometimes have

to make unfathomably difcult decisions.

These counterexamples defeat premise 1. Loving parents sometimes do

permit their children to experience avoidable feelings of abandonment in

the midst of suffering. They do so only for good reasons, perhaps only

for reasons which directly benet their children; they do so having done

their best to prepare their child, and they comfort their child when (or if)

they are reunited. They do so lovingly, but they do so, nonetheless. Even

setting aside the more exceptional cases, if premise 1 is true, then it is

not possible for there to be loving, attentive, excellent parents who use

swim lessons, daycare, and cry-it-out sleep training when it is possible for

them to avoid doing so. A bar this high is not merely unattainable, it is

undesirable. Good parents count the cost and weigh the relative goods.

Wielenberg’s rst premise cannot account for this without introducing a

noseeum inference to the argument. Thus, these counterexamples serve to

refute premise 1 and, with it, Wielenberg’s argument.

8. The Second Objection

It is tempting, I think, to reply to these counterexamples as follows: in each

of these examples, the parents had good, loving reasons for permitting

their child to endure this bit of perceived abandonment and suffering. In-

deed, in each of these examples, the parents had good, loving reasons for

believing the experiences to be objectively less severe than the child takes

them to be. Sure, a parent might allow their child to feel abandoned in the

midst of what feels to the child like gratuitous suffering, but only when

there is some greater good to be obtained. Often, if not always, that greater

good is a good gained for the child. Thus, these counterexamples are not

really counterexamples to premise 1 after all. The preceding discussion

has, I hope, adequately addressed this rst objection.

There is, however, a second sense in which my counterexamples may

seem not only unsatisfying but offensive: to borrow a phrase from van

Inwagen, the “magnitude, duration, and distribution” of this world’s suf-

fering goes well beyond things like day-care drop-offs and swim lessons.

van Inwagen, “The Magnitude, Duration, and Distribution of Evil.”

SKEPTICAL THEISM AND THE PARENT-CHILD ANALOGY 37

Are we really prepared to say that things like human trafcking, sexual

violence against children, and the pain of watching your own child starve

to death while being unable to help them are just like being dropped off

at daycare while teething? I am not. Of course not. This is an offensive

suggestion. Crucially, we do not need to say this in order to endorse these

counterexamples. The premise makes a very specic claim about what a

loving parent would do, and it does so in a way that is designed to avoid

a noseeum inference. By design, it requires only the experience of great

suffering and abandonment; the experience of a hurting, lonely child is

not helped or changed by the reality that there is far worse suffering in

the world.

An adequate defense to one argument does not a robust theology of

suffering make. The rst premise can, and should, be rejected; neverthe-

less, Christian philosophers will still have to contend with the truth stated

in the fourth premise. These are two very different tasks. When we forget

or disregard the distinction between a defensive and proactive philosoph-

ical posture, we run two signicant risks: (1) the risk of setting the bar for

an objection to an argument too high, and (2) the risk of setting our ex-

pectations for a philosophical treatment of suffering too low. An adequate

defensive position does not, need not, and should not exhaust the range of

positive philosophical resources.

9. Positive Skeptical Theism and the Limits of Counterexamples

It will be helpful to look, once more, at the challenge posed to skeptical

theism. In particular, we should briey consider John DePoe’s response

to Wielenberg’s argument. DePoe is a skeptical theist, but not what he

calls an “ordinary” skeptical theist. Instead, DePoe defends his “posi-

tive skeptical theism” from Wielenberg’s argument.

With Wielenberg,

DePoe agrees that the resources of ordinary skeptical theism cannot meet

the challenge of “suffering and abandonment.” Echoing Wielenberg,

he writes:

It is important to recognize that mainstream skeptical theism has no response

to Wielenberg’s argument since it does not rely on the fact that suffering

and abandonment are, in fact, purposeless and unjustied. The premise he

employs only requires that some experience of suffering and abandonment

appear to be gratuitous or purposeless, which is eminently more modest and

plausible.

Both Wielenberg and DePoe agree on this much: the mere inscrutability

of God’s motivations is not enough to explain the way in which sufferers

tend to feel abandoned by God. Barring some “second-order justication

for the appearance of gratuitous evil” (DePoe, 93) or serious violation of the

Very briey, De Poe disputes Wielenberg’s claim that apparently gratuitous suffering

and abandonment would constitute deception by God.

DePoe, “On the Epistemological Framework,” 308.

Faith and Philosophy38

ordinary parent-child relationship (Wielenberg), no loving God should be

expected to permit this.

I believe that Wielenberg and DePoe are just wrong about this. In order

to avoid the noseeum inference, Wielenberg must set the bar for a loving

parent unreasonably — and I would say undesirably — high. I wonder

if there is any parent who has managed to spare their child this experi-

ence; I wonder if, in doing so, they have done a better job as a parent. At

the same time, I also believe that Wielenberg and DePoe share a common

insight that Christian theists ought more readily to embrace: namely, that

the degree and kind of suffering in this world really does demand — or

better, invite — something more than a merely defensive posture from the

Christian. Contra DePoe and Wielenberg, I maintain that ordinary skepti-

cal theism sufces as a response to Wielenberg’s argument; this does not

mean that it sufces as a Christian response to divine hiddenness in the

midst of suffering.

In general, there are at least two aspects of the challenge of suffering

for the Christian theist. On the one hand, she must be able to respond

to arguments which purport to demonstrate that the God in whom she

believes does not exist. Like any philosophical position, theism in general

and Christian theism in particular need only disarm opposing arguments.

If she can rationally defend the rejection of a premise in the argument, that

argument has been disarmed. The argument may be revised and thereby

revived, she may be called upon to do the same for further arguments,

but a false premise or a faulty inference undermines an argument. This is,

after all, what we all teach our undergraduates.

The second aspect is at least as important; in many ways it is more im-

portant. A Christian ought to go beyond the merely defensive maneuvers

required to disarm some argument or another and ask, further, what the

reality of suffering tells us about the creator and his creation — but this is

what the theist must do, it is not what a successful objection to a particular

argument must do. Again, there are good reasons not to conate these

two tasks.

With this in mind, let’s consider what these counterexamples can and

cannot do. They can be used to justify the rejection of Wielenberg’s rst

premise and ensuing argument. They are examples of loving parents al-

lowing their children to experience preventable suffering and feelings of

abandonment; they are successful counterexamples to this premise. They

are not examples of loving parents permitting this suffering for no good

reason. Not one of these counterexamples involves needless or gratu-

itous suffering — but neither do they need to. After all, the whole point

of this argument is to undermine Christian theism without having to in-

fer that some suffering is gratuitous. These counterexamples can defeat

Wielenberg’s argument.

DePoe, “On the Epistemological Framework,” 93; Wielenberg, “The Parent–Child

Analogy.”

SKEPTICAL THEISM AND THE PARENT-CHILD ANALOGY 39

What they cannot do is serve as a complete model for how Christians

ought to think about God and suffering. They do not adequately reect

the degree and kind of suffering that we nd in the world. By design,

they are examples for which we can see the justication of the suffering

involved; we are the adults, not the children, in these scenarios. The actual

suffering of this world, in contrast, includes a great deal for which we

cannot see the justication. This is a challenge, but it is not new. It is the

evidential argument from evil; it is the argument in response to which

skeptical theism was conceived. A successful objection undermines an ar-

gument; Christian philosophers should aim to do a great deal more than

merely undermine atheistic arguments. If an objection succeeds, its work

is done, but our work — the larger project of making sense of suffering —

is far from nished.

10. Looking Forward

To that end, I want to conclude by gesturing towards the work that re-

mains. Although Wielenberg’s argument fails to undermine Christian

skeptical theism, I submit that it succeeds on two counts: it rightly empha-

sizes the philosophical signicance of (a) the experience of sufferers and

(b)the specic doctrinal commitments of theistic philosophers. Wielenberg

is right to note that the God of Christianity is susceptible to accusations

of divine hiddenness that go beyond those levied against the God of the

philosophers. It is not enough to consider the possibility of a generic non-

resistant nonbeliever; the Christian philosopher should also contend with

the accounts of believers who feel abandoned by God in their darkest hour.

We need not accept that anyone is, in fact, abandoned by God; that they

feel abandoned is itself signicant. As Christian philosophers, we ought to

ask: Given that God does not abandon anyone, why might he permit us to

think that he has done so? What could this mean? What, if any, function

might these experiences serve?

When I propose that Christian philosophers devote more of their re-

sources to considering the role of suffering in a meaningful, ourishing

life, I recognize that doing so invites signicant risk. I will not expound

on those risks here, noting instead that Kilby, Coakley, Panchuk, Grifoen,

Adams, and others have done outstanding work in this area.

At the same

time, I am convinced that there are real and signicant risks incurred by

the avoidance of theodicy, or something akin to theodicy, as well. In his

recent book, The End of the Christian Life: How Embracing our Mortality Frees

us to Truly Live, J. Todd Billings asks what it means to live as “a dying crea-

ture before the One whose days have no end.”

Billings is a theologian,

Coakley and Shelemay, Pain and Its Transformations; Grifoen, “Therapeutic Theodicy?”;

Kilby, God, Evil and the Limits of Theology; Adams, Horrendous Evils and the Goodness of God;

Panchuck, “Distorting Concepts, Obscured Experiences.”

Billings, The End of the Christian Life, 95. To be clear, as Billings notes we are all living as

dying creatures; this is the human condition.

Faith and Philosophy40

a husband, and a father. He is also a Christian who lives with incurable

cancer and its resultant chronic pain.

When he calls upon Christian phi-

losophers and theologians to dwell more deeply on suffering, it is, at least

in part, his own suffering he has in mind. His is both a professional and

personal endeavor.

Consider the following passage, in which Billings recalls his exchange

with a friend:

Lisa had seen chronic pain before, and she was empathetic, but she wasn’t

scandalized by it. In contrast, when a friend responds to my ongoing pain as

a terrible affront, my life feels diminished; the outrage seems to imply that

this wound could never be part of ‘the good life.’

To be clear, Billings immediately goes on to note: “And yet, perhaps it’s

exactly right to say that my life is ‘diminished.’” He does not shy away

from the intractable complexity of suffering and goodness in the Christian

life. He offers no easy answers.

Instead, he helps us to see why, despite the absence of easy answers,

we must do better. In our haste to avoid the harm done by overvaluing

the redemptive power of suffering, Christian philosophers run the risk of

leaving suffering believers with a devastating range of options. Atheistic,

agnostic, and even deistic philosophers are free to conclude that suffering

is exclusively bad, that no good could ever justify, let alone redeem, the

worst kinds of suffering that we encounter in this world. Christian phi-

losophers, on the contrary, should be wary of this view. We know that the

world is rife with suffering; we know that Christians and other religious

believers are not exempt. Christian philosophers are not free to wonder

whether God might permit his creatures to feel abandoned in the midst of

their suffering; we are stuck with a world in which this happens, a world

in which God lets it happen.

What is the message we send to suffering believers when we tell them

that their suffering could never be redeemed? That it is offensive even

to consider the possibility of there being a good that might ultimately be

worth it all? That their darkest days are just that — dark days, devoid of

meaning, purpose, and any hope of redemption? Are we really prepared

to tell Todd, and those like him, that his suffering “could never be part of

‘the good life?’” I do not mean to suggest that critics of theodicy hold this

position. Not at all! Further, the concerns they raise are vitally important.

We would be wise not to forget them. I mean only that we should take care

not to overcorrect. We can be mindful of the risk of harm, taking care to

learn from our historic mistakes. We can do so while pressing on in careful

inquiry into the possible role of suffering — and even the feeling of having

been abandoned by God — in the ourishing human life.

He shares more of his personal experience as a terminally ill Christian in Billings,

Rejoicing in Lament.

Billings, The End of the Christian Life, 96.

SKEPTICAL THEISM AND THE PARENT-CHILD ANALOGY 41

11. Conclusion

The rst premise of Wielenberg’s argument makes an extremely strong

claim that we must reject:

1. A loving parent would never permit her children to experience pro-

longed, intense, and apparently gratuitous suffering together with a

sense she has abandoned them or never existed in the rst place if she

could avoid doing so.

Loving parents take the long term good of their children into account.

They consider the overall health and stability of their families. Often, these

calculations include their own mental and physical health. Loving parents

evaluate the goods to be gained when deciding whether or not to permit

some instance of suffering. When permitted, the suffering that results is

avoidable; it may remain, all things considered, preferable.

The University of South Florida

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