A loving God? I don’t think so
There has been a conflict over the question of whether God is a loving God and the nature of divine justice, free will, and the source of human suffering among scholars and theologians for centuries. The problem of evil to the doctrine of original sin has seen arguments piling up left and right to reconcile an omnipotent, all-good God and evil in the world. The story of Adam and Eve, the fountainhead of most religious customs, has stood at the centre of this storm, being debated extensively on moral, justice, and providence grounds. However, during these centuries-long arguments, one vitally important question has been all but unaddressed: If the disobedience of Adam and Eve sent the whole human race into woe, then why did God fail to correct them before they had any children?
In a sense, the making of man is similar to product development and manufacture. When an engineer designs a new system, he prototypes and perfects it carefully before producing it in quantity so that flaws will not be reproduced down an entire line of goods. If the prototype is found to have a defect, a wise designer doesn’t go ahead with mass production, hoping to fix the units later—no, they try to fix the source. Let’s say one is a business that produces driverless cars or advanced AI-run robots that behave sentience-like properties. Suppose they discover a fundamental flaw in their decision-making process—perhaps they provide incorrect traffic instructions occasionally or behave erratically, putting humans at risk. If the corporation, with complete awareness of such weakness, proceeds to manufacture and ship millions of such flawed machines worldwide, the ramifications will be catastrophic. Governments will intervene, litigation will overwhelm them, and the ethical considerations cannot be wished away. We would doubt the morals and judgment of the engineers who allowed these subpar products to take over the world. Let us make another jump.
Assume that in another galaxy there is an all-powerful entity that operates a mega robot factory that mass-produces conscious, intelligent robots. They experience emotions, self-awareness, and capacity for damage and pain. However, an unknown design fault causes them to make poor decisions, harm themselves, and spread dysfunction throughout the world. The ruling power is fully aware of the fault, and rather than shut down production or correct the issue at its source, it allows the factory to continue producing these defective, suffering robots generation after generation. A few of them subsequently get patches for their vulnerabilities, but millions and millions of others suffer pointlessly. Looking at this spectacle, we are presented with one question: Is the designer a good loving person or an evil one? Would we not call it irresponsible, or at least question its wisdom and compassion?
Yet, in the Biblical narrative, God allows Adam and Eve, man’s DIY prototypes, to be flawed and allows them to procreate before fixing their faults. If their evil was predestined or their moral mistake could have been avoided by God’s hand, then why would an all-powerful and all-knowing god allow an imperfect process to proceed that will afflict future generations with suffering? This has profound implications for the divine responsibility and the logical coherence of inherited sin. Some theists believe Adam and Eve’s sin was necessary for free will and that their sin enabled a greater good—human moral and spiritual development.
This answer does not deal with, however, why God did not simply restart or recreate them before they had children. If an omnipotent God could have eliminated suffering at its source, then why did He not do so? Christian theology teaches those human beings in heaven will both be free agents and never sin—anymore, it would appear, be reconcilable with free will and sinlessness. If this is achievable, then why were Adam and Eve not created in this way to begin with?
The other common reaction is that human suffering ultimately leads to redemption, and salvation through Christ as the “remedy” for the fallen state. But then, of course, that creates issues. If the ultimate desire all along was to save man further down the line, why subject generations to come to the process? Would it not have been kinder to intervene in the first instance and not allow all of the pain to happen in the first place? One of the most basic teachings of most religions is that God is both omniscient and merciful. But not stopping Adam and Eve from having children contradicts the very wisdom, justice, and mercy we presume God to possess. Would we accept such a step by a human engineer or manufacturer? Why, then, do we forgive a divine engineer? At least, an omnipotent and good creator would have anticipated that the design of an imperfect race would lead to immense suffering. In endowing imperfect human beings with reproductive capacity before interference, God appears to have been neglectful—through lack of attention, intention, or limitation. Either of these is a mockery of classical concepts of divine perfection. The theology that all human suffering was the consequence of Adam and Eve’s sin has been the basis of many religious systems. But if one goes on to read further into the tale with reason and responsibility in mind, then one has a genuine problem: God as good and omnipotent should have rectified the flaw before it became uncontrollable. If we are to blame human designers and engineers for releasing imperfect products into the world, then let us call a deity to an even more severe account.
God’s failure to heal Adam and Eve before they had children either knowingly allowed suffering to propagate or was unable to prevent it. Both options pose radical theological challenges that are inconsistent with a benevolent, all-powerful creator. Finally, the problem of the divine factory is the ultimate question to which theism has still to find an answer: Why would God allow to create suffering when He could have created the process in its inception? Until a satisfactory solution is found, this problem is an insoluble contradiction to the theistic way of thinking.
