1 Divine Passibility: God and Emotion Abstract While the impassibility debate has traditionally been construed in terms of whether God suffers, recent philosophy of religion has interpreted it in terms of whether God has emotions more generally. This article surveys the philosophical literature on divine im/passibility over the last twenty-five years, outlining major arguments for and against the idea that God has emotions. It argues that questions about the nature and value of emotions are at the heart of the im/passibility debate. More specifically, it suggests that presuppositions about the dichotomy between emotions and reason (or the ‘heart and the head’) have negatively impacted the debate. It contends that the debate can only move forward in response to serious reflection on our affects as we experience them, aided by historical and anthropological as well as contemporary philosophical perspectives. 1. Introduction The history of the impassibility debate is intriguing partly because it is so dramatic. Up until the end of the 1800s, the ‘orthodox’ and mainstream position was that God is impassible. At around about the turn of the twentieth century, there was an almost complete passibilist revolution. The new passibilist ‘orthodoxy’ became a common theological response to the First World War, and, later, to the Second World War and the Holocaust. During this time, the idea that God suffers ‘with us’ became an almost- ubiquitous way of dealing with the extreme suffering that was happening. The religious value of this belief is that God is not above the world’s suffering; rather, God is (in Whitehead’s potent phrase) ‘the fellow sufferer who understands’ (1978, 351). This is a forceful emphasis for modern theodicy, for (if true) it means that God does not permit suffering with impunity or without understanding of its lived reality. While the impassibility debate in theological circles has focused on questions about whether God can suffer, philosophers have become interested in the question of whether God can have emotions (or feelings or affects) more generally. This is bound up with modern and contemporary re-evaluations of emotion. If emotions make us irrational, powerless, and require a body, that gives us grounds for supposing that an all-knowing, all-powerful and incorporeal God would not have them. But if we can control and cultivate emotions to some extent, and if their relationship to our bodies is not a necessary one, then there is less reason to preclude them in the case of God. Furthermore, if emotions actually make us more intelligent – if they give us forms of knowledge we would not otherwise have – then we have a good basis for thinking they are an essential aspect of divine omniscience. Movement is integral to emotion (as indicated by the shared etymology), and therefore passibilist philosophers have also been concerned with different ways of understanding the traditional doctrine of divine immutability. In the interests of covering new ground, this article will discuss the impassibility debate in the philosophical literature over the last twenty-five years. i It will begin by looking at how passibility has been defined in the philosophical literature. It will then  2 consider the ways in which views of emotion have affected the impassibility debate both in terms of criticising and in terms of affirming the idea of divine emotionality. It will then suggest ways in which historical perspectives on emotion can inform the debate. Finally, it will suggest future directions for the area. 2. Definitions of ‘passibility’ Over the last two and a half decades, the philosophical literature on the impassibility debate has defined ‘passibility’ primarily in terms of emotion (or feelings or affects) and mutability. The question of whether God suffers is seen as an important sub-strand of the debates about whether God has emotions and changes. In his 1986 monograph, Richard Creel defines impassibility as ‘imperviousness to causal influence from external factors’ with respect to nature, will, knowledge and feelings’ (3 – 9). In his 1999 article he defines passibility as ‘susceptibility to causation’, again saying that this might be in terms of nature, knowledge, will and feelings. ‘Feelings’ are described as ‘the subjective facet of an evaluation’ (and so closer to an ‘emotion’ than to a physiological feeling such as the feeling of having one’s hair pulled). Notably, in his 1986 monograph Creel argues that God is impassible in terms of feelings, but departs from this view in his 1999 article in favor of a weak form of emotional passibilism (according to which God is touched by suffering without being crushed by it). While Creel also provides a full consideration of whether God is impassible in terms of nature, knowledge and will as well as feelings, I will bracket these first three in this article as feelings and emotion are the focus of most other philosophical discussions of impassibility (as reflected in later definitions). Charles Taliaferro roughly defines impassibilism as the thesis that ‘God does not undergo sensory experience including suffering and pain, nor is God subject to corruption, substantial essential change or to external agency’ (1989, 217). Taliaferro mentions both immutability and suffering, and raises the question of whether suffering is a sensory experience (though notably, he believes that a being can have sensory experiences without being physical [Taliaferro, ‘Incorporeality’]). Marcel Sarot defines passibility as ‘mutability with respect to feelings or the quality of one’s inner life’ (1992, 30), centralising both emotions/feelings and mutability. Most recently, I have defined passibility as ‘capacity for or susceptibility to emotions’, highlighting the question of whether emotionality is a weakness or a strength while following Sarot’s understanding of passibility as fundamentally emotional or affective (X, Book [anonymised for peer review], 2). 3. Emotion in arguments against passibilism. Arguments for impassibilism (or against passibilism) are often made on the basis of the nature of emotions. Four alleged characteristics of emotion that would preclude divine passibilism are: (i) mutability and temporality; (ii) irrationality; (iii) their tendency to make the subject passive or powerless; (iv) the fact that they require a body. A fifth objection concerns the question of whether it is possible to have extreme forms of positive and negative emotions at once.  3 (i) Impassibilism is either seen as an aspect of immutability or as entailed by immutability. As Paul Helm argues, impassibility is entailed by immutability which is entailed by eternality. But what about the possibility of God experiencing emotions immutably and eternally? Even if we allowed that we could conceive of the possibility of non-temporal and unchanging emotions, the consequences of positing unchanging negative emotions of God would be theologically unattractive. If one believed God to experience negative emotions ‘eternally’ (outside time), then one would have to posit God’s eternal suffering. Equally, if one believed God to be in time (sempiternal) but unchanging, one would have to hold that God would continue to suffer forever, despite the eventual triumph of goodness of creaturely suffering and evil. This is not only an unattractive view, but also one that undermines the basis for the happiness of the blessed at the beatific vision (Wolterstorff, 1988, 211). Belief that God experiences negative emotions (such as suffering) therefore seems to require a rejection of divine eternality (in favour of sempiternality), and either a rejection or modification of the doctrine of divine immutability. Philosophers and theologians who have strong independent reasons for upholding divine eternality and immutability are therefore likely to end up in the impassibilist camp. (ii) Passibilism is often seen as contrary to God’s wisdom and omniscience, because emotions are regarded as frequently if not essentially irrational and deceptive. Helm argues that God cannot have emotions because emotions are incompatible with perfect rationality and wisdom. Furthermore, ‘To act upon emotion or passion is to act when the judgment is in abeyance. Emotion clouds the judgment, or functions in place of the judgment’ (Helm, 1989, 131). This reflects the traditional mainstream western dichotomy between reason and passion (or, colloquially, ‘the head and the heart’) and preference for reason over the passions. As paradigms of this dichotomy, we might cite Plato’s analogy of the charioteer in which the appetites and passions (represented by the ignobly bred black ugly horse) should be under the control of the charioteer (the rational, intellective part of the human), and Aristotle’s view that ‘the active intellect’ (nous poetikos) is the only divine and immaterial element of humanity (Plato, Phaedrus, 246a – 254e; Aristotle, De Anima, Bk III, ch. 5, 430a10-25 and Metaphysics, Bk. XII, chs 7 – 10). (iii) Divine passibilism is sometimes objected to on the basis that God is omnipotent whereas emotions are something that happen to us and are outside our control. For example, Robin Cook argues that ‘… an essential and central characteristic of emotion is that it is a passive experience. An emotion involves something that happens to us. And in this sense, it is something over which we do not have control’ (2006, 62 – 63). In response to this view of emotion, I have pointed out that the fact that something happens to us does not entail that we have no control over it (X, Book, 152). For instance, if I went to a health spa and asked for a massage, having the massage would involve having something done to me, but I would never the less have control over it in terms of having initiated it and being able to stop it whenever I pleased. Therefore there are situations in which we do control things that happen to us. Of course, this raises the question of what we mean by ‘control’. If controlling something is like turning on and off a light switch, we are unlikely to be able to control our emotions very much (except perhaps by controlling mild unpleasant emotions by listening to a favourite piece of music or watching a favourite film). If, at the other end of the spectrum, we conceive of  4 ‘control’ as being more like learning to dance – a matter of coordinating actions through the ongoing decision to practice over a long period of time – then the question of whether we can control emotions is far more open (see Solomon). As practices of prayer and meditation (not to mention Cognitive Behavioural Therapy) suggest, we may be able to ‘control’ or cultivate our emotions to some extent by learning to be reflective about what we feel and why, and by learning different ways of dealing with negative emotions. A further aspect of Cook’s argument for divine impassibility is that when we have an emotion we experience our thoughts being focused and intensified in relation to the object of the emotion. This, argues Cook, is not something we choose; rather, ‘we find that the object of our emotion always attracts or engages our attention in a way that is not entirely voluntary. Sometimes the emotion is so strong that the object can be said to grip our attention’ (2006, 74). This seems to be true of very powerful emotions such as being enraged or being head over heels in love. But is it also true of milder emotions? Cook seems to think it is, asserting that ‘the general idea holds good for milder experiences of emotion as well’ (2006, 75). I am not so sure. I might be mildly looking forward to a meal out with friends this evening, or mildly dreading having to do the washing up when I get home, but these are unlikely to attract or engage my attention in a way that is not entirely voluntary (I could easily take my mind off the fact that I will have to do the washing up by thinking about something else); far less do they grip my attention (see X, Book, 153 – 154). There is also a question about whether strong emotions look more voluntary if we consider them diachronically (over time) rather than synchronically (at a specific point in time). Being head over heels in love may look involuntary at t3, but this does not take into account the ways in which we might have cultivated romantic feelings by dwelling on the person’s charms, fantasizing about being with them, or finding ways of encountering them, at t1 and t2. Cook also argues that emotions are passive because, ‘whereas non-emotional cognitive judgements are made “actively, consciously and for the most part freely”, this is not the case with the judgements that are involved when we have an emotion’ (2006, 75, quoting Helm, 2001 [Helm’s emphasis]). I have argued that it is not at all clear that all of our non-emotional judgements are active or conscious or voluntary and, furthermore, emotions are not all passive and unconscious and involuntary (X, Book, 154). Cook’s argument rests on a separation of judgement and emotion that collapses when we put aside inherited clichés about emotions and beliefs and reflect more deeply from our experience of them, as philosophers are increasingly doing (e.g. Nussbaum, 2002, Roberts, 2003, Neu, 2000, Wynn, 2005, to mention just a few). (iv) It is argued that having emotions requires a body, and so God, being incorporeal, cannot have emotions. Why should having emotions require a body? This boils down to the question of what emotions are. Some recent philosophers, influenced by the James-Lange school, have posited a strong relationship between emotions and the body. For example, William Lyons argues that physiological changes are essential to emotion. Jesse Prinz agrees with William James that emotions are feelings incited by physiological responses. Jenefer Robinson argues that emotions are physiological reactions. If emotions either simply are or else require physiological changes, it seems, at least prima facie, that they would be inappropriate to an incorporeal God (though see Taliaferro, 1987). While some passibilists adopt a less physiological view of emotions, Marcel Sarot maintains divine passibility by proposing that God is corporeal, and that we  5 should view the world as God’s body (Sarot, 1992; see X, Book, 165 - 181 for a critique of his argument). (v) Another problem facing passibilism concerns the psychological incompatibility of opposite emotions (see Simoni, 1997). Passibilists claim that God responds to events in the world with both suffering and joy, but is it possible for extremes of both to be held together in the same person (or Person) at the same time? Humans often experience both simultaneously – for example, I might feel joy at the news that one friend has been offered the job she wanted, but pain that another friend has been diagnosed with an illness. Similarly, I might feel joy that I am visiting an exciting foreign city for Christmas, but sorrow that I won’t be visiting a much-loved elderly relative back home. However, in these situations the joy and the sorrow dilute one another. My joy that Hannah has got the job she wanted improves my view of the world, so that it is not overwhelmed by the news of my other friend’s illness. My sorrow that I will not go home and see the elderly relative at Christmas adds a degree of poignancy to my feelings of excitement about the trip to the foreign city. It seems likely that this is also true in the case of far more extreme joy and suffering too. At the close of Benigni’s Holocaust film La Vita è Bella, Dora’s joy at being reunited with her son is experienced with, but also modified by, her grief that her husband has not survived the camps. If Dora’s husband had survived, we might speculate that her joy at seeing her son would be even greater. Equally, if Dora’s son had not survived, her grief at her husband’s death might (I speculate) be overwhelming. This raises a particular problem for passibilist theodicists, who frequently hold that God empathises with the emotional experiences of human beings – that is, that God feels the sorrow of sufferers as they themselves experience it. The force of divine empathy for theodicy is that those who suffer are not alone, and that God does not permit suffering for some higher good (such as free-will or soul making) while standing back to watch it from afar. If God cannot fully experience the extreme suffering of the victim of torture and the extreme joy of a parent whose child is unexpectedly cured from a life- threatening condition at the same time, the passibilist theodicist’s case stands on shaky ground. This problem does not seem to have been answered satisfactorily by passibilists yet. This is not an exhaustive summary of the arguments for divine impassibility, but it does cover what I believe to be the most important ones. Notably, objections (i) and (v) only raise problems for negative emotions (such as sorrow and anger), while objections (ii), (iii) and (iv) may present problems for the attribution of any emotion to God - including happiness/bliss (something classical theists usually want to ascribe to God). 4. Emotion in arguments in favour of passibilism. Arguments for passibilism (or against impassibilism) are also often made on the basis of the nature of emotions. Passibilists frequently argue that (i) emotions provide a non- substitutable kind of knowledge; (ii) divine suffering is entailed by divine love; (iii) a God who does not suffer is unable to console sufferers. (i) Perhaps the most powerful argument for divine emotions (and one that relates back to the issue of intelligence mentioned in the introduction) is the argument from omniscience. As Sarot puts it, a being that cannot have feelings cannot be omniscient  6 because feelings provide ‘a certain kind of knowledge that cannot be obtained in any other way’ (1992, 56). The author of this idea may have been Charles Hartshorne, who argues that knowing the feelings of others and feeling the feelings of others are identical: To fully sympathize with and to fully know the feelings of others are the same relationship, separable in our human case only because there the ‘fully’ never applies, and we never know the feelings of others but only have knowledge about them, abstract diagrams of how in rough, more or less general ways they feel. If we saw the individuality and vividness of the feeling we would have the feeling. (1941, 163). On the basis of this, Hartshorne makes the strong claim that an omniscient God must not only be able to experience feelings, but that he must be able to share all our feelings with us in the sense of experiencing them himself. However, the idea that God must empathetically share all human emotions seems problematic, because some human emotions would be inappropriate to God’s moral perfection. Creel highlights this problem when he says that, if God fully empathizes and knows all the experiences of his creatures, ‘the implications for theology would be disastrous. God would have to be thought of as suffering, feeling stupid, feeling horny, taking pleasure in vicious acts, and so forth, because we humans do’ (1986, 129). As a solution to this problem, Sarot proposes that knowing someone’s feelings is knowing how that person’s feeling feels, rather than necessarily feeling that feeling oneself. Sarot uses the following analogy to demonstrate the point: if one suffers a toothache, one knows exactly how it feels, but after it has gone, it is impossible to remember the exact feeling of the toothache. Furthermore, when we remember the toothache, we do not feel the toothache again. This suggests that having knowledge of past toothache does not suggest that we necessarily feel it again. Therefore, contra Hartshorne, it is not the case that an omniscient God must experience our feelings in order to know how our feeling feels (Sarot, 1992, 69 – 70). Sarot’s response leaves open the weaker claim that it is only possible to know what something feels like if we ourselves have felt it. For example, perhaps we only know what toothache feels like if we have had toothache, even if we don’t have it now. As knowledge of what something feels like is a kind of knowledge it still seems as though God would have to have felt what things feel like in order to be genuinely omniscient. This again raises Creel’s question of whether God must not only suffer, but also feel (or have felt) stupid, horny, and pleasure in vicious acts. In response to this, Sarot points out that we can form new concepts by combining elements of other concepts we already understand. Accordingly, perhaps God could combine having felt pleasure with his conceptual knowledge of what vicious acts are and so know what pleasure in vicious acts feels like (Sarot, 1992, 75). To my mind, Sarot’s solution is not persuasive because pleasure in vicious acts has a distinct phenomenological quality to it, quite different from taking pleasure in someone’s happiness, or taking pleasure in a beautiful painting. Combining experiential knowledge of pleasure with conceptual knowledge of vicious acts therefore does not capture the feeling of taking pleasure in vicious acts. However, I agree that having feelings gives us a non-substitutable kind of knowledge; in particular, they provide us with a sense of the value meaning of persons, events and things that we would not  7 otherwise be able to have (see X, Book, 69ff and X, ‘Article a’). Therefore, like Sarot, I want to maintain that God has experiential knowledge of our feelings. I suggest that a more promising way of responding to Creel is to consider more thoroughly the nature of empathy (and related states such as sympathy and compassion). In empathy and compassion, do we feel the emotion in the same way that the other person – the person we are empathising with – experiences it? Edith Stein suggests not. She argues that in compassion (which is closely related to empathy) we only know the suffering of the other secondarily, and that it does not become our suffering (see X, Book, 77 - 79). This is because, as Martha Nussbaum has pointed out, if we were to identify with the other such that we experienced their pain as though it were our own pain, it wouldn’t be compassion, because we would have failed to experience the pain of the other as other (Nussbaum, 2002, 328). This has led me to respond to Creel by suggesting that God might be said empathetically to experience the emotions of others (including morally questionable ones) without experiencing them as God’s own (see X, Book, ch. 4). In spite of Creel’s formidable objection, then, I suggest the argument from omniscience provides one good reason to believe that God is passible. (ii) Along with theologians, philosophers have argued that God must suffer on the basis of divine love. Suffering, it is argued, is entailed by love when the beloved is suffering, or is failing to flourish as a human being by harming other parts of creation (sin). Thus divine suffering is entailed by divine love in an imperfect world such as ours. Taliaferro argues that we should see God’s sorrow not as an addendum to God’s love, but as a constituent of it (Taliaferro, 1989, 222). Paul Fiddes adopts the position that we should see God’s suffering as freely chosen out of love (1988). The idea that God’s suffering is closely related to God’s love has been strengthened by studies of the Hebrew prophets which speak of God’s ‘pathos’ for his people (e.g. Heschel, Freitheim). Impassibilists deny that suffering is integral to love. Creel argues that ongoing divine vulnerability to suffering is pointless (at best) and, at worst, reflects a maudlin sentimentalism. Far from regarding suffering as essential to divine love, Weinandy views the two as virtually antithetical. Perfect love is not about suffering with those who suffer, but about taking action to dispel the causes of suffering. God’s ability to take action to dispel the causes of suffering would actually be diminished if God suffered, since it would mean that God might act to relieve his own suffering (Weinandy, 2002). Likewise, Helm argues that the susceptibility to suffering and change are likely to impede God’s love and helpfulness, such that only an immutable and impassible God can be known to be completely reliable: ‘A God who was subject to change from some external force or agency could not console his people in… [an] unconditioned manner’ (Helm, 1989, 139). Arguing for either position from divine love has, so far, only resulted in a stalemate, since both arguments rest on opposing ideals of love. The impassibilist values the Stoic wise man whose charitable deeds are heightened by his lack of personal and emotional involvement whereas the passibilist admires the lover whose love is made more valuable precisely by the fact that he is willing to become vulnerable and to suffer for the beloved. While the ideal form of love for the passibilist is shown in fellow suffering, for the impassibilist it is exemplified in the blissful companion who offers comfort (Simoni, 1997, 345). (iii) Some passibilists argue that a God who does not suffer cannot console. This idea is forcefully expressed in the film Priest, in which the main protagonist, Greg  8 Pilkington (a Catholic priest) is highly distressed by his duty to maintain the secret of the confessional in the light of his knowledge that a teenage girl is being raped by her father. Greg prays tearfully and angrily in front of a crucifix, though his prayers might, mutatis mutandis, equally be addressed to God in Godself as to the incarnate Christ: I look all around for an example. I’m in the depths of despair. I look around for an example, and all there is is you. But you perform miracles. You change water into wine. You raise the dead. You, you cured the sick. What kind of example is that? How could you possibly know despair? ‘Oh well, I’m feeling a bit low today. I think I’ll, I’ll raise somebody from the dead’. How could you, with that kind of power, know what I’m going through right now? For many, it seems intuitively true that a God who does not know suffering cannot console those who do. The idea that God cannot console is not only theologically unattractive, but also philosophically problematic, because it renders God (in at least one way) religiously inadequate and so challenges divine perfection. Is this a good reason to assert passibilism? I suggest not, because it is not divine suffering itself that consoles sufferers, but the belief in divine suffering. If God suffers with people, that would be no consolation to someone who held that that was not the case (e.g. an impassibilist or an atheist). Conversely, if God does not suffer, someone who mistakenly believes that God is suffering with them would nevertheless derive comfort from that belief. Therefore (iii) does not constitute a good reason for asserting divine passibility – though, if passibilism is held on independent grounds, its consolatory power may be considered beneficial and religiously valuable. 5. Historical perspectives on emotion (and how these affect the impassibility debate) As we have already seen, philosophical discussion of divine passibility includes a great deal of debate about what emotions are and what they involve. All of this presupposes the concept of ‘emotion’. Might the situation look rather different if we take a step back from the contemporary debate and explore how people from cultures other than our own have construed (what we call) emotion? I have scratched the surface of this approach by looking at how what we would now call ‘emotion’ was, in the pre-modern western world, characterised as a diverse set of experiences rather than as an homogenous concept (X, Book, chs 1 & 2; X, ‘Article B’). In particular, following Thomas Dixon, I have explored Augustine and Aquinas’ distinction between passiones and affectiones. Passiones are involuntary, arational and (in Aquinas) physical. Affectiones are voluntary, potentially rational (and, concomitantly, potentially irrational) and non-physical. An example of a passion might be an involuntary and strongly physiological bout of anger or love, in which the subject feels the physical elements of anger or love (going red, going weak at the knees, having an increased heart rate) and does not have much choice about what they are experiencing. An example of an affection might be anger or love cultivated by the subject over a period of time, physiologically milder, and able to be evaluated in terms of rationality as a response to the object (person or situation). While, as moderns, we might be tempted to view passiones as emotions and affectiones as non-emotional attitudes, affectiones also seem to be ‘emotional’ in character because they are, as Dixon puts it, ‘subjectively warm and lively states’ (Dixon, 2003, 3). In other words, the pre-modern passions-reason dichotomy  9 is not identical with the modern emotions-reason dichotomy of Helm and others. The passiones-affectiones distinction is an exciting one, for passiones seem to incorporate many of the elements of emotion of which impassibilists are suspicious (involuntariness, lack of rationality, bodiliness) while affectiones are free of these things. Indeed, Aquinas seems to attribute affectiones (but not passiones) to God (ST 1a.82, 5 ad 1, cited Dixon, 2003, 26). Furthermore, the distinction between passiones and affectiones resonates with the work of some recent philosophers of emotion who either divide ‘emotion’ into separate categories, or else (more promisingly, in my view) appeal to the idea of family resemblances to explain how emotions vary widely in their relationship to the body, to the intellect, and to the will. My attempt to cast more light on the impassibility debate by taking a step outside of the contemporary debate and approaching the concept of ‘emotion’ historically is only one of many possible attempts that could fruitfully be made, and there is much more that could be done using this approach. 6. Conclusion The passibility debate is deeply bound up with what we understand and value about our humanity. For this reason, future directions for the impassibility debate might include building on the interface between the passibility debate and philosophy of emotion. This could involve developing, through reflection on experience, more sophisticated understandings of empathy, compassion, sympathy and related phenomena, of the relationship between emotions and cognitive states that are traditionally seen as non- emotional (e.g. thoughts, beliefs, judgements), and of love. I have already pointed to one way in which a historical perspective might allow us to make distinctions within the idea of ‘emotion’ that make our understanding of our affective lives more nuanced. There is undoubtedly more scope for this, looking at other historical sources. As the debate has so frequently involved the polarisation of thought and feeling, and as this is a mainstream European-American separation, anthropological as well as historical perspectives on ‘emotion’ could also offer much to the debate. It is anticipated that the more nuanced our understanding of our emotional lives and the further we move from the separation of cognitive and affective phenomena, the more likely we are to find ways that surmount both passibilist and impassibilist concerns in our depictions of divine perfection and love. List of Works Cited Cook, Robin. ‘Divine Impassibility, Divine Love’. Ph.D. Thesis, Cardiff, 2006; unpublished Creel, Richard. Divine Impassibility: An Essay in Philosophical Theology. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1986 Dixon, Thomas. From Passions to Emotions: The Creation of a Secular Psychological Category. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003  10 Fiddes, Paul. ‘Suffering, divine’. The Blackwell Encyclopedia of Modern Christian Thought. McGrath, Alister E. Blackwell Publishing, 2005. http://www.blackwellreference.com/subscriber/tocnode? id=g9780631198963_chunk_g978063119896321_ss15-2 (accessed 31st December 2011) ---, The Creative Suffering of God. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1988 Fretheim, T.E. The Suffering of God: An Old Testament Perspective. Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1984. Hartshorne, Charles. Man’s Vision of God and the Logic of Theism. Chicago: Chicago University Press, 1941 Helm, Bennett, W. Emotional Reason. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2001 Helm, Paul. ‘On the Impossibility of Divine Passibility’, in Cameron NM de (ed.), The Power and Weakness of God: Impassibility and Orthodoxy. Edinburgh: Rutherford House Books, 1989. Series: Scottish Bulletin of Evangelical Theology Heschel, Abraham J. The Prophets. New York: 1962 Lyons, William. Matters of the Mind. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2001. Neu, Jerome. A Tear is an Intellectual Thing: The Meanings of Emotion. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000 Nussbaum, Martha. Upheavals of Thought: The Intelligence of Emotions. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002 Prinz, Jesse. Gut Reactions. New York: Oxford University Press, 2004 Roberts, Robert. Emotions: An Essay in Aid of Moral Psychology. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003 Robinson, Jenefer. Deeper than Reason. New York: Oxford University Press, 2005 Simoni, Henry. ‘Divine Passibility and the Problem of Radical Particularity: Does God Feel Your Pain?’ Religious Studies, 33.3 (1997): 327-347. Solomon, Robert. Not Passions Slave: Emotions and Choice. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003. Taliaferro, Charles. ‘The Passibility of God’, Religious Studies 1989, 25.2, 217 – 224. ---, The Incorporeality of God. Modern Theology 1987, III, 2, 179 – 188  11 Weinandy, Thomas. Does God Suffer? Notre Dame, IN: University of Notre Dame Press, 2000. ---, ‘Does God Suffer?’ Ars Disputandi: The Online Journal for Philosophy of Religion, Volume 2, Issue 2, 2002 http://www.arsdisputandi.org/index.html? http://www.arsdisputandi.org/publish/articles/000023/index.html (accessed 2nd January 2012) Whitehead, Alfred North. Process and Reality: An Essay in Cosmology (1929), corrected edition, ed. David Ray Griffin and Donald W. Sherburne. New York: Free Press, 1978. Wolterstorff, Nicholas, ‘Suffering Love’, In Philosophy and the Christian Faith, ed. TV Morris (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 1988), 196 - 237 Wynn, Mark. Emotional Experience and Religious Understanding. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005 X. In press (Spring 2012). Journal article a) (anonymised for peer review) X. 2011 Book (anonymised for peer review). X. 2005. Journal article b) (anonymised for peer review) Films Life is Beautiful. Miramax Films. 1997 Priest. Miramax Films. 1995 i For an excellent recent article on passibilism in the theological literature, see Fiddes, ‘Suffering, divine’.