to enslave him, imagining that he belonged to that lineage when in fact he did not; yet such an error would not preclude him from enslaving the rest.

Now if it is said, “The Lord’s justice is unlike the justice of created beings; rather, His justice consists in never diminishing anyone’s good deeds and in punishing no one except for his own sin,” then on those grounds it would be impermissible for Him to punish Adam’s descendants for their father’s offense, and equally impermissible for Him to punish the prophets—who have no sin save one from which they repented—for the sins of others. Prophets are protected from persisting in any wrongdoing, so every one of them died free of any sin that would merit punishment. How, then, could they be punished after death for their father’s sin, even on the assumption—false to begin with—that he died obstinate in that sin?

And if one were to suppose, however falsely, that the prophets did possess sins warranting punishment after death and that Iblis was empowered to chastise them, then all people after the Messiah who are not prophets would be even more deserving of such punishment. How could a justice that demands equal treatment of equals allow for the prophets to be punished while sparing those below them—indeed, even unbelievers?

Twelfth Argument:

If the Lord’s aim in all of this was to repel the tyranny of Iblis, why did He not unite with the human nature of some earlier child of Adam, devise a stratagem against Iblis, and prevent his oppression of those who came before? Averting great harm takes precedence over averting lesser harm. Was He unaware that Iblis would perpetrate all this evil? That would ascribe ignorance to Him. Or did He know yet lack the power to prevent it? That would ascribe impotence to Him. What, then, distinguishes one era from another? If refraining from stopping Iblis was an act of justice on His part, then it is justice in every era.