Goodness is not just the absence of evil; it is a real,
positive presence. Think of the countless ways it manifests—acts of heroism,
quiet kindness, forgiveness when revenge seems easier, generosity when it is
costly, and love that asks for nothing in return. These things are not required
for mere survival. They go beyond instinct. They have a depth that feels
eternal, as though they point to something beyond themselves. Philosophers and
poets alike have noticed this. The Nobel laureate Czesław Miłosz wrote that the
very existence of beauty and moral truth in the midst of horror suggests there
must be a source beyond the material. Mary Midgley, a moral philosopher,
likewise argued that the fact we experience awe, wonder, and moral obligation
is more surprising than the fact we experience suffering.
Even if we admit evil exists, we can’t deny that goodness
is preferred. Across time, culture, and belief systems, humanity
overwhelmingly gravitates toward love rather than hate, peace rather than war,
justice rather than oppression. Even those who commit atrocities often twist
them into justifications for some perceived “good,” revealing that deep down,
the human conscience elevates goodness above all else. This universal
preference shows that good is not just one side of a coin. It is the summit,
the highest point. Evil simply becomes the necessary polarity that allows good
and all its radiant qualities to be known, experienced, and chosen.
This polarity has meaning. Without darkness, there is no
contrast for light. Without sorrow, there is no depth to joy. Without the
existence of hatred, the power of love cannot be fully recognized. But in the
human experience, these dualities are not equal. Love resonates more
deeply than hate. Joy lingers in the soul longer than despair. Peace carries a
substance that conflict cannot imitate. This tells us something profound: good
is not merely the opposite of evil; it is the preferred reality, the one
toward which all things move.
The medieval philosopher Maimonides wrote that evil is not a
true force but the absence of good. Like darkness, it has no substance
of its own; it is merely the lack of light. Everything God created, he argued,
was inherently good. What we call evil is a deficiency, a void where fullness
of being is missing. And because it is a lack, it is temporary. Goodness, by
contrast, is real and enduring. This view makes evil less of an equal power and
more of a shadow that disappears when the light fully shines.
Modern moral philosophers echo this. Mary Midgley pointed
out that if the universe were truly indifferent or governed only by survival,
why would humans have the capacity for awe, kindness, or selfless love? Why
would music, art, and beauty matter? Why would compassion appear in moments
when natural selection would favor indifference? Goodness, she argued, is the
greater surprise. It demands explanation.
This is why some theologians and philosophers speak of the problem
of good as a challenge for disbelief. If the universe is random and
purposeless, why should love even exist? Why should there be moral beauty that
transcends evolutionary utility? Richard Swinburne, William Lane Craig, and
Alvin Plantinga have all made versions of this argument: objective moral
values, and our recognition of them, point to a source beyond the material.
They suggest a moral lawgiver, or at least a deeper reality that anchors
goodness itself.
But we can also understand this in the language of polarity
and preference. The material world is built on dualities—light and dark, life
and death, love and hate. These opposites create contrast so that consciousness
can experience meaning. Without shadow, we would not see the brilliance
of the light. Without the chill of despair, we could not know the warmth of
joy. Yet when we look honestly, good always outweighs evil in its lasting
impact. It draws the heart like a magnet pointing to true north. This aligns
with the Hermetic principle, “As above, so below”—the polarities of our world
exist so that the soul can awaken to the higher reality beyond them.
When we examine humanity’s deepest longings, what do we
find? We long for love, for peace, for goodness. Even those who wander in
darkness yearn for redemption. Across lifetimes, cultures, and belief systems,
the higher pole is always preferred. This reveals that good is not arbitrary—it
reflects the essential nature of being itself. Evil is only the foil, the
shadow needed for good to be recognized, and because it is rooted in lack
rather than fullness, it cannot ultimately endure. Goodness, by contrast, is
eternal because it springs from what is real and whole.
Think about the moments that touch you most deeply. Sitting
quietly by a body of water. Holding a newborn child. Hearing music so beautiful
it brings tears to your eyes. These experiences transcend mere survival—they
hint at a deeper purpose. They remind us that the highest aspects of life—love,
awe, wonder—are not illusions. They are more real than the suffering that
temporarily clouds them. Evil may cause us to ask why, but good answers
with this is why. It gives meaning to the journey.
So yes, there is a problem of evil. But Aaron Tomlinson was
right to ask about the problem of good. Why should there be love at all in a
universe of mere particles and chance? Why should beauty exist if everything is
only survival? Why should kindness break through indifference? These are not
trivial questions. They point toward a deeper source, something beyond polarity
itself—where there is no longer opposition, only the fullness of what we call
good.
About Aaron Tomlinson:
My friend Aaron Tomlinson is a former evangelical
pastor who once carried a powerful healing ministry. Over time, he
deconstructed from the toxic and rigid aspects of evangelicalism, yet his heart
for truth and spiritual growth remains as vibrant as ever. These days, he still
offers rich, thought-provoking teachings most Sunday mornings on Facebook Live
from 11 a.m. to noon Central Time, simultaneously streaming on his YouTubechannel. He also leads a private community called New Day Global, a safe
space to explore all-things-spiritual beyond the limits of traditional dogma.
I’m deeply grateful to Aaron for pointing out something that
feels so simple yet profound—what should have been obvious all along. While
many argue about the problem of evil, strict materialism faces a far
greater challenge: the problem of good.
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