Kleiner and I were wondering today whether there is any way to sort out good philosophical mysteries from bad ones. Here’s an example to show what we mean.
Suppose you believe that the world is created by a divine being with a concern for the plight of human beings. Several objections can be raised — like, “How does a divine being create a world out of nothing?” and “How come there seems to be so much needless suffering?”. And you can offer some initial answers to these questions, perhaps with some interesting details, but in the end you will probably have to shrug and say, “It’s a mystery to me.”
Now contrast that case with this one. Suppose I say that the world is a pebble washed up upon the shores of eternity, and our obligation is to make everything in the world as shiny as possible. (And suppose that, no, I mean none of this merely metaphorically; I think it is literally true.) You press me for details — “Why think the world is a pebble? Why think eternity is a thing with shores?” — and though I might make a few remarks in reply, ultimately I have to shrug and say, “It’s a mystery to me.”
It seems like the first mystery is an “okay” one to have, and the second one is just silly. Is that right? If it is, then how can anyone sort out the good mysteries from the bad ones?
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