Introduction

The Psalmist reflects, probing God with the question: “what is man that thou art mindful of him, and the son of man that thou dost care for him?” (Ps 8:4).{1} In a single phrase, this verse gets at perhaps the most poignant inquiries underlying the entire Old Testament: “What is a human person? Why do people suffer? Where does humanity come from? What is the point of human life? And is God concerned with it at all?”

The Second Vatican Council addresses these questions nowhere better than in Gaudium et Spes, in which the Church emphasizes that Christ not only joins himself to the baptized, but in some way, as the New Adam, to every human person. Thus, the words of Pontius Pilate, who presents Christ to the Jewish people, reverberate throughout time to every man and woman: “Here is the man” (John 19:5).

In his first encyclical, Redemptor Hominis, John Paul II writes, “The Redeemer of man, Jesus Christ, is the center of the universe and of history” (Redemptor Hominis, 1), and, therefore, his death and resurrection recapitulate the entire universe. Because the human identity is now rooted in the God-Man, everything any person does is somehow related to Christ. Thus, not only being made in God’s image and likeness, but also being in the image of God’s Son, every human person carries immeasurable dignity and worth which cannot be diminished.

John Paul II, adding to the idea that Christ joins himself to every man, comments on Christ’s redemptive act: “As the link was broken in the man Adam, so in the Man Christ it was reforged” (Redemptor Hominis, 8). Furthermore, because Christ is born, lives, works, suffers, dies, and resurrects, he simultaneously grants overwhelming redemptive purpose to human suffering, toil, and routine life. As Adam, the first father of humanity, imparts sin and death to his progeny, so does Christ, the perfect image and likeness of the Father, bestow redemption and eternal beatitude to those who live in him through Baptism.

According to the Eastern and Oriental Fathers’ interpretation of Biblical anthropology, human persons are living creatures, composed of body, soul, and spirit, made in the image and likeness of God who commands them to be fruitful and multiply. Additionally, because the Divine Logos has redeemed humanity through the Incarnation and Resurrection, the Church Fathers agree that mankind’s telos is divinization—eternal participation in God’s interior Trinitarian life. Consequently, Clement of Alexandria famously writes, “The Word of God became man in order that you may learn from a man how man may become God” (Exhortation to the Heathens, ch. 1 [ANF 2:174]).{2}

There is a difference between the anthropology of the Eastern Fathers and the Scholastic tradition: namely, in the Eastern view, human nature, which is understood to be not only comprised of a body and soul, but also a spirit, has a natural disposition for receiving the Holy Spirit.

In general, the Eastern approach to Christian Anthropology is nuanced by Hellenism because while the Bible’s stories are natively Semitic, both the language and the culture of the early Church Fathers are Greek. Therefore, to understand the early Fathers’ writings about anthropology, one needs to understand that the Fathers’ Hellenistic outlook was affected by the Bible’s Semitic mental framework.

The collision of these two cultural and linguistic viewpoints is most evident in the transition from the focus on nous (mind) to attentiveness to the Biblical lev (heart). From the Greek philosophical perspective, the mind is to be lifted up to unite to the forms. By contrast, in the Biblical tradition, prayer is more accurately described as the lifting of the heart to God. This change is significant because the human heart is the most anthropologically used term in the Old and New Testaments. It is the Biblical emblem of the human being symbolizing life, love, feelings, and thought. And, in the writings of the Philokalian Fathers, it is the epicenter of the most important human activity: prayer.

This article will proceed with four propositions: first, the Fathers teach that the human person is a trichotomy of body, soul, and spirit. Second, the human person is made in God’s image and likeness and is relational and creative. Third, the Fathers teach that because it is within a human person’s nature to receive God’s Spirit, his or her telos is eternal divinization. By progressing in the spiritual life, which is divided into praxis and theoria, men and women receive the gift of everlasting life. Fourth, the Fathers identify man as a microcosmos placed at the center of the cosmos to unite the heavens and the earth. At the center of the human person is the heart, his most intimate and vulnerable component, wherein he prays, thinks, and loves, and one’s heart should reflect the heart of Jesus.

I. The Human Person: A Trichotomy

Often the Eastern Church Fathers refer to the human person as a trichotomy. Basil speaks of man as a union of body, soul, and mind (That One Should Not Adhere to Earthly Things, Homily 21.5 [PG 31:549a]). Gregory Nazianzus (commenting on the second creation myth) writes that Adam is a union of clay, divine breath, and the spirit (Dogmatic Poems [PG 37:452]). Similarly, Irenaeus (Against Heresies, 4.1 [PG 7b:1144b]), Ephrem the Syrian (The Hymns on Faith, 18:4 [FC 91:148]), Gregory of Nyssa (On the Making of Man, 8.5 [NPNF 2 5:394]), and John Climacus (The Ladder of Divine Ascent, 28.61 [PG 88:1139 & 1140]) define the human person as a composite of body, soul, and spirit. The body is the physical property, the soul is the interior vegetative life-principle, and the spirit is the elevated or intellectual dynamic. The reason some Fathers refer to the third dimension as spirit rather than mind is because it capacitates man to receive the life of the Holy Spirit.

In the West, rather than a trichotomy of the human person, several authorities mention the soul as a trichotomy.  Augustine attributes the tripartite nature of the human soul to the fact that human nature is formed in the likeness of God, a Trinity. Thus, Augustine asserts that human interiority contains a memory, an intellect, and a will (De Trinitate, 10.11 & 12). The trichotomic understanding of man has a philosophical tradition as well. Plato describes the soul with three parts: reason (λογιστικόν), spirit (θυμοειδές), and appetite (ἐπιθυμητικόν) (The Republic, 4). Aristotle does not divide the soul into three parts; however, he does describe the soul as having one of three dynamisms: the vegetative, the sensible, and the rational (De Anima, III, 8 –9). The human person is rational because his or her soul is not only a life principle, and not only sensible, but additionally he or she is intellectual. In the following three subsections, evidence is given to show how the Fathers identify and describe the three parts of the human person: body, soul, and spirit.

a. Body

In the Bible, every part of the human body symbolizes something. The rosh (the head) and the panim (the face) signify that the human person is intellectual, vulnerable, and relational. Hans Walter Wolff explains: “In the ‘face’ as the panim, man’s ‘turning towards’ another, his organs of communication, are gathered together; and among these the eyes, the mouth and the ears are the most important.”{3} The raglayim (the limbs) signify the kind of life someone chooses to live—as one might now say, “the path they are walking in life.” The yad symbolizes might and is frequently translated “power” (instead of “hand”).  The etsba (the finger) refers to a human person’s capacity to build (e.g., Isa 2:8; 17:8).

The OT authors distinguish man’s bashar (skin) from his lev (heart) to contrast superficiality from the depth of one’s character. The heart is the symbol of profound interiority, where God judges a man’s decisions.

In several instances, the Bible describes a righteous person as one according to what is in the heart of God.  In 1st Samuel God says, “I will raise up for myself a faithful priest, who shall do according to what is in my heart and in my mind” (1 Sam 2:35).{4} In the book of Jeremiah, God says, “And I will give you shepherds after my own heart, who will feed you with knowledge and understanding” (Jer 3:15). Most reminiscent of these examples is the scene where Samuel the prophet assumes he should choose one of the more well statured sons of Jesse, whereas God chooses David: “But the Lord said to Samuel, ‘Do not look on his appearance or on the height of his stature, because I have rejected him; for the Lord sees not as man sees; man looks on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart’” (1 Sam 16:7). Therefore, the place of identity, of character, and of personhood, where God sees a person’s sincere resolve, is the symbol of the human heart.

The defining dynamic of the NT’s somatic perspective is that “the word became flesh and dwelt among us” (John 1:14). The apostle Paul says the person who is baptized into Christ also lives in, dies in, and rises with Christ (1 Cor 15). Thus, the Byzantine hymn celebrates baptism with Paul’s words, “All of you have been baptized into Christ, have put on Christ, Alleluia!” (Cf. Gal 3:27).

The Fathers and saints describe the “putting on of Christ” as an identification with Jesus’ psychosomatic experience. Gregory of Nazianzus writes, “Yesterday I hung on the Cross with Christ; today I am glorified with Him; Yesterday I was dying with Him, today I am brought to life with Him; yesterday I was buried with Him, today I rise with Him” (Oratio 1, On Holy Pascha [PG 35:397b]).{5} Symeon the New Theologian proclaims:

We are made members of Christ, and Christ becomes our members, (1 Cor 6:15) and Christ becomes my hand and the foot of all wretched me, and wretched I become the hand of Christ and the foot of Christ. I move my hand and my hand is Christ entire. (Hymn 15){6}

Nicholas Cabasilas comments on the liturgy: “Wherefore we are the temple of the living God; our members are Christ’s members whose head the Cherubim adore. These very feet, these hands, depend on His Heart” (The Life in Christ, [PG 150:648b]).{7} Thus, as Adam passes down the fallen body of human nature, so too does Christ give his risen body to the baptized.

According to Paul, the resurrected body is spiritualized (σῶμα πνευματικόν, 1 Cor 15:44) rather than carnal and earthly. Occasionally in his letters, Paul distinguishes the dead from the risen body by contrasting sarx from soma. He speaks of sarx as dead flesh: “I tell you this, brethren: flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of God, nor does the perishable inherit the imperishable” (1 Cor 15:50). And he speaks about soma as risen and living flesh: “The body is not meant for immorality, but for the Lord, and the Lord for the body. And God raised the Lord and will also raise us up by his power. Do you not know that your bodies are members of Christ?”12 and “you were bought with a price. So, glorify God in your body” (1 Cor 6:20). The most exemplary text of this notion in Pauline literature is Romans 8:

...and those who are in the flesh (<em>sarx</em>) cannot please God. But you are not in the flesh (<em>sarx</em>), you are in the Spirit, if the Spirit of God really dwells in you. Anyone who does not have the Spirit of Christ does not belong to him. But if Christ is in you, although your bodies (<em>soma</em>) are dead because of sin, your spirits are alive because of righteousness. If the Spirit of him who raised Jesus from the dead dwells in you, he who raised Christ Jesus from the dead will give life to your mortal bodies (<em>soma</em>) also through his Spirit who dwells in you. (Rom 8:8–11)

At the end of time, the body will rise and re-unite with the soul. Due to the graces of baptism, those united to Christ in death will also be united with him in paradise. Paul says, “For as in Adam all die, so also in Christ shall all be made alive. But each in his own order: Christ the first fruits, then at his coming those who belong to Christ” (1 Cor 15:22–23).

Following the Gospel which identifies Jesus’ body as the new temple (Jn 2:21), Paul says that every Christian is likewise a temple of the Holy Spirit: “Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit within you, which you have from God? You are not your own” (1 Cor 6:19). Additionally, because it is a temple, the Fathers talk of bodily gestures as symbols in prayer. Metanies (which are prostrations touching the ground) express metanoia (Greek for “repentance”). Standing represents resurrection. Lifting one’s hands symbolizes giving and receiving a divine gift. Basil talks about standing up and facing East in liturgy to symbolize resurrection:

We all look toward the East… We make our prayer standing up on the first day of the week… Being risen with Christ and being bound to seek the things that are above, we are reminding ourselves, by standing upright on the day consecrated to the resurrection, of the grace that has been given to us. (On the Holy Spirit, 27 [PG 31:192]){8}

Having put on Christ, the human body becomes an instrument of worship—a temple for the Holy Spirit to pray, “Abba, Father” (Rom 8:15, Gal 4:6). Thus, its position, gestures, and movements become ways of worshiping the Father in the Spirit of the Son.

b. Soul

The Platonic, Aristotelian, and Israelite concepts of the soul are all unique. For Plato, the soul is synonymous with the person, and the body is the prison in which the soul is bound until death. For Aristotle, the soul is the form of the body, the person’s life principle which is hylomorphically united with the body in a single substance. The Hebrew idea of nephesh is distinct from both the Platonic and the Aristotelian sense. In the Hebrew Old Testament, the word nephesh refers to the whole human being that God creates in Gen 2:7. Helmer Ringgren explains the human identity in relation to nephesh: “the common idea that man consists of body and soul (nephesh) is a misconception: as a totality, as a living being, he is a ‘soul.’”{9} The ‘soul’ in this comment is not to be understood Platonically. Hans Walter Wolff further explains: “[the nephesh] is designed to be seen together with the whole form of man, and especially with his breath; moreover, man does not have [nephesh], he is [nephesh], he lives as [nephesh].”{10}

The Hebrew nephesh refers not only to the invisible dimension, but also to the entirety of the living being—the whole ousia of a man that Aristotle defines as a hylomorphic union. However, the Hebrew idea of the soul is distinct because it relates strongly to a person’s breathing. For example, God breathes into clay and forms an independent nephesh. Additionally, the Christian understanding of the soul is qualified by the symbolic dimension of a person saved by Jesus Christ. It is the component of the person that remains after death and awaits the resurrection of the body at the end of time.

Following the Philokalian usage, Theophan the Recluse further describes the soul by distinguishing three of its functions and faculties. He names the functions: to know, to act, and to feel corresponding with the faculties: the mind, the will, and the heart.

Like Plato, several Fathers consider nous the “best property”—the pilot of the soul. Coming from this more Platonic perspective, many of the Church Fathers define prayer as the elevation of the mind. As their experience of Scripture matures however, so too their Biblical understanding of the inner man expands.

The nous becomes identified and interchangeable with the Biblical lev. For example, Gregory Nazianzus identifies the “clean heart” of Ps 50:2 as the διανοητικόν (intellect) (On Holy Baptism, 40:39 [PG 36:416b]).  Likewise, Basil comments that the soul is understood as heart in the Bible (On the Holy Spirit, 26.61). Thus, eventually, the Greek idea of the nous shifts to the biblical heart, and in this transition, there is a movement from knowing God “through the mind” to knowing God “in the heart.”

In Theophan’s division of the soul’s faculties, while the mind and will more distinctly correspond to knowing and choosing, often eastern authors attribute to the heart all three faculties. Such authors do not always adhere to a strict division of powers and respective activities. Rather, while in one sense, they understand heart as the sentimental power of the soul, in another respect, heart symbolizes the whole human person. The latter sense is the more Biblical sense of heart: a person’s center, where sentiments are experienced, the place wherein all impressions are kept, the place of thinking, considering, wishing, and praying.

For example, Psalm 25 expresses the heart as the soul’s sensitive power: “Relieve the constriction of my heart and bring me out of my distress” (Ps 25:17). Psalm 21 illustrates the heart wishing: “Thou hast given him his heart’s desire, and hast not withheld the request of his lips” (Ps 21:2[3]). Luke’s Gospel illustrates the heart’s thinking: “but Mary kept all these things, pondering them in her heart” (Luke 2:19). Thus, the symbol of the heart links human intellectual and emotional powers—the visible and invisible functions of the human person.

Theophan himself often uses heart in a more biblical respect. He explains:

The heart’s occupation is to sense everything concerning our person. It constantly and persistently senses the condition of the soul and body, and along with this the various impressions from the individual actions of the soul and body, from surrounding objects which it encounters, from the outward situation, and in general, from the course of life, thereby compelling and forcing man to furnish everything which is pleasant to it, and to avoid the unpleasant … Every influence on the heart produces a unique feeling within it, but there are no words in our language for distinguishing these feelings … the significance of the heart in the economy of our life is not just to be passively subject to impressions, and to attest as to the satisfaction or dissatisfaction with our condition. The heart also maintains the energy of all powers of soul and body. (Letter 8){11}

This sense of the heart that pervades the Philokalia and the Scriptures relates to everything going into and coming out of the person. The heart relates to every human function—sentimental and intellectual.  And rather than seeing these dynamics in opposition, the symbol of the biblical heart signifies them as one unified dynamism.

c. Spirit

In the Old Testament “The spirit is the force breathed into the face of man during his creation (Gen 2:7).”{12} The ruach elohim is the spiritual dimension coming directly from God’s influence (for example, when one is filled with the Holy Spirit). It is the “1. Breath of the mouth or nostrils [and the] 2. Wind [and lastly the] 3. spirit, as that which breathes quickly in animation or agitation [and the] Spirit of God … as inspiring an ecstatic state of prophecy.”{13} It has a strong undertone of a person’s vital powers, feelings, and will because it is the force, so to say, of God’s power within the human person (e.g., when a prophet is filled with the ruach to preach). Although after the Fall, the human person is in want of the divine power within him, there are moments when people are filled with the Spirit. 

Joseph is filled with the Spirit to interpret dreams; Moses is filled with the Spirit to lead the Israelites; the Spirit rests on the elders when they prophesy; Joshua is filled with the Spirit to lead when Moses dies; and the Spirit comes upon David when he is anointed King (Gen 41:38; Num 11:25; 27:18; 1 Sam 16:13; 2 Sam 23:2). Wolff comments, “If in the case of the new heart the point is the pure guiding of the conscience, in the case of the [ruach], it is the steadfast power of the will to act accordingly.”{14} Thus, in the Old Testament, a person’s ruach is the guiding force, so to say, of God within him.

The New Testament idea of pneuma is nuanced because of Paul’s theology concerning the Holy Spirit, whom Paul and several Church Fathers call pneumatikos, residing in the human person (1 Cor 2:15; 3:1; Gal 6:1; Basil, On the Holy Spirit, 18.47 [PG 32:153]; John Chrysostom, Homilies on 1st Corinthians, Homily 7 [PG 61:61]).

For Basil and John Chrysostom, the human pneuma is the potential to be filled with the life of the Holy Spirit. According to Basil, when the Holy Spirit enters the human heart, he perfects the human nature of the individual person. Through this reception, a man becomes a living temple of the Holy Spirit united to God the Father through the Son. This is particular to the New Testament covenant, in which Jesus imparts the pneuma hagion tou theou (the Holy Spirit of God) to his disciples. 

The apt question then, according to Basil, is how the infinite God perfects the human nature of a finite being:

... it seems to me that, although the expression "in" is simple and concise, many and varied meanings are conveyed by it. For in whatever way "in" is spoken, we find that it helps our thinking about the Spirit. Form is said to be in matter; power is said to be in that which has it; habit is said to be in that which is ordered according to it; and so on. Therefore, insofar as the Holy Spirit is perfective of rational creatures and brings their excellence to completion, he has the function of the form. For he is called spiritual who no longer lives "according to the flesh" but rather is "led by the Spirit of God … And as art is in the one who practices it, so the Grace of the Spirit is in him who receives it: it is always present but not always acting … the Spirit, who is always present to those who are worthy, acts when there is a need, whether in the prophecies, or healings, or some other acts of power. (Basil, On the Holy Spirit, 26.61 [PG 32:180])

According to Basil, when a human person lives in a state of grace, he or she also lives more according to human nature. Theophan the Recluse calls this phenomenon of the Holy Spirit as a part of man’s life—the “soul of our soul”{15} because analogous to the soul informing the body (and bringing life to the human person), the Holy Spirit’s life informs man’s spirit (allowing human nature to participate in divine life).

Furthermore, Gregory Nazianzus adds that the human person is essentially social, and by the power of the Holy Spirit in baptism, the powers of the human soul are perfected, and the hearts of the faithful are spiritually united under one body of Christ.{16} By receiving the Holy Spirit, humanity is perfected and united in a manner impossible without God. The social dynamic of mankind is perfected when it participates in divine life—a society of Trinitarian persons.

II. The Image of God

Because man alone is made in God’s image and likeness, the Fathers speak about the grandeur of Adam. According to Basil, “being in such great honor because he was created in the image of the Creator, he is honored above the heavens, above the sun, above the choirs of stars” (Exegetic Homilies on the Psalms, 19.8 [FC 46:324–325]). John Chrysostom says Adam is the “greatest and most marvelous of living beings, and the creation most worthy of honor before God” (Sermons on Genesis, 2.1 [PG 54:587–588]). Gregory of Nyssa comments that the introductory method used by Genesis’ author for man’s creation is different because God deliberates when he makes Adam:

The command was simple when light was created: God said, “let there be light.” Heaven was also made without deliberation… These, though, were before (the creation of) humans. For humans, there was deliberation. He did not say, as he did when creating other things, “Let there be a human.” See how worthy you are! Your origins are not in an imperative. Instead, God deliberated about the best way to bring to life a creation worthy of honor. (<em>The Making of Man</em>, 3.1 [NPNF 2 5:390])

In Genesis 1:26, God reflects within Himself on how to make Adam: “Let us make man in our image, after our likeness.” Having deliberated, God places in Adam what Clement of Alexandria calls an understanding heart (Exhortation to the Greeks, ch. 10).{17} Adam can know, love, understand, and therefore live in relationship.

The difference between Old and New Testament anthropologies is that in the latter, the perfection of imago dei is the New Adam, Jesus Christ, who is not only the image of God, but also God made flesh. Being in Christ’s image via Baptism, Christians receive the grace of a likeness that perfects human nature. Furthermore, not only is man healed by being within the image of the Incarnate Word, but also, he is placed in the life of the Trinity—the fulfillment of his natural desire to live in relationship.

a. homo ut relatio

Hans Walter Wolff comments on the creation of mankind as man and woman in Genesis:

An explanation is added to the double account of the carrying out of God’s resolve—an explanation of how mankind, created in God’s image, is to be fashioned: it is to take the form of two sexes. […] Men are to be allowed to complement themselves in love. That they live together in this way and not in warfare is an essential presupposition for the success of the stewardship of the world entrusted to them. They are the image of God in that together they are one. […] It will at most be permissible to cling to the fact that men can only fulfill the commission as the image of God given to them in their creation by turning towards one another and by complementing one another, like man and wife.{18}

For Wolff, man and woman are like God in that they are a peaceful community that, together, create new life. As God is by essence a creator of life, so also is mankind in the form of two sexes commanded to be fruitful and multiply.  

The question then arises of how Adam relates to Eve as a partner and to creation as its steward. Ephrem the Syrian says, “Just as each animal had received from Adam the name of its species on that day, Adam did not call the rib that was fashioned [into a woman] Eve, by her own name, but named her woman, the name that was set down for all her kind” (Commentaries on Genesis, 2.13.3 [FC 91:105]).  Adam sees the woman as an equal partner of his own kind, and so he calls her isha because she comes from ish.{19}

Ephrem also says, “He was one in that he was Adam, and He was two because he had been created male and female” (Commentaries on Genesis, 2.12 [FC 91:105]).  This is not to mean that Adam is a hybrid, but rather that humanity (adam) is both male (zachar) and female (nikva).

The difference between Adam and Eve’s creation is even clearly illustrated in Jerome’s Latin translation of the Hebrew. Jerome comments on the distinct nature of Eve, who is different from Adam. He says the following about the Latin, aedificare, being the translation from banah, which is the Hebrew word used only for Eve’s creation:

Let us search in Genesis for the connotation of the word aedificatione. 'God took a rib from the side of Adam and made it into a woman.' Here, Scripture said, aedificavit. The concept of building, as we have said before, is wont to denote the construction of a great house; consequently, Adam's rib fashioned into a woman signifies, by apostolic authority, Christ and the Church, and that is why Scripture said He formed [aedificavit] a woman from the rib. We have heard about the first Adam; let us come now to the second Adam and see how the Church is made [aedificetur] from His side. The side of the Lord Savior as He hung on the cross is pierced with a lance and from it there comes forth blood and water. Would you like to know how the Church is built up from water and blood? First, through the baptism of water, sins are forgiven; then, the blood of martyrs crowns the edifice. (Homily 66, on Psalm 88 (89) [FC 57:65])

Jerome’s comment demonstrates that the woman’s creation is for a distinct purpose. The terminology used for her fashioning is highly distinguishable, especially considering the terminology used for the creation of everything else. She alone is built as an edifice. What is unique is that the author has Eve’s life initiated from the side of Adam. It is not at all surprising that many of the Eastern Fathers perceive a relationship between Adam and Christ by virtue of their life-giving sides. As Adam’s side gives life to Eve, Christ’s side, from which pours water and blood, gives birth to the Church.

Ephrem the Syrian says, “Adam’s rib is his wife, and the blood of our Lord is his church. From Adam’s rib there was death, but from our Lord’s rib, life” (Commentary on Tatian’s Diatessaron, 20.11, 323).{20} John Chrysostom understands the water and blood to symbolize the water used for baptism and the blood received under the species of wine in Holy Communion. He sees the piercing of Christ’s side as the Church’s inauguration. Chrysostom’s crucial point is that the Church thrives on the water received in baptism, wherein one is born in Christ, and then grows and is nourished through the blood of Christ in the Eucharist (Homilies on St. John, 85 [NPNF 1, 14:319]).

Therefore, it should be noted from all these aspects of Adam and Eve, that there is a difference between the way Adam stands toward Eve and toward the rest of creation.

Considering the vegetative world and the beasts, Adam is a steward, who cares for the earth’s protection. However, while different, Adam is Eve’s equal, and the only proper response to her presence is love.

Unlike any of the other creatures, the human person is a microcosmos—a union of both the visible, invisible, and intellectual realities of the universe. And the invisible intellectual element (i.e., the soul) enables a person to know and to be known—to know, give, and receive love. Thus, for Christians, the human person is considered social because he is in the image of God who is a “society”—a union of persons.

Naturally speaking, a human person is not fully himself on this earth until he knows himself in relation to another. Supernaturally speaking, the primary vocation of the human person is to live in relationship with God the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Additionally, the human person’s primary vocation is not merely filial love with family and friends, or erotic love with a spouse, but rather agapic love with the Divine.

b. homo ut artifex

God’s creativity is evident in the Hebrew texts of Genesis. There are three verbs in the creation myths for “to make”: bara, yatsar, and banah. The first word, bara, simply means “to make” in the general sense, but yatsar and banah mean “to form” with artistic nuance. In Gen 2, when God yatsars Adam, he takes clay, and forming it into man, he imparts in Adam his own breath into the clay, thereby forming a living nephesh.

Similarly, when God banahs Eve, he takes a rib from Adam to form her. What is unique about banah is that, other than for Eve’s creation, it is only used to relate the building of a temple or altar.{21} Thus, Eve’s creation is not only artistic, but also her creation is spiritually nuanced.

The Psalmist meditates on the creativity of God by alluding to the divine etsba—God’s fingers that create: “When I look at thy heavens, the work of thy fingers, the moon and the stars which thou hast established; what is man that thou art mindful of him, and the son of man that thou dost care for him?” (Ps 8:3). Because man is made in the image of God, who creates with his fingers, so also man builds, writes, and forms craft (Isa 2:8; 17:8).  As Antonio Bruno expresses this: 

Man is a being created in the image and likeness of God, and precisely for this he belongs to the kingdom of freedom; for this he is called to manifest his own creative powers, but authentic participation in creative action becomes possible only through redemption. In fact, in Christ, God himself is made immanent to human nature, and this ‘christification’ causes man to become a creator in the likeness of God the creator.{22}

Being made in the image of God, who freely creates human beings from his own likeness, human persons also can express freely their own ideas through symbols. Because they are microcosms, men and women can know, understand, and love. They can relate symbols to the existential realities to which they point.

As God makes mankind as a microcosmos uniting the visible and invisible worlds, analogously, man creates music, poetry, paintings, statues, cathedrals, and other works of art to raise the mind to divine things. Thus, in the image and likeness of the God revealed in Genesis, humanity is artistic and creative.  

In the second creation-story of Genesis, the role Adam plays is twofold. He tills soil and names every creature. Thus, his work identifies him and his relation to Eve. His work as a farmer is at the core of his humanity; he works for food to sustain his and Eve’s lives. Paul writes “If anyone will not work, let him not eat” (2 Thess 3:10) to illustrate the communal demand for people to work. Without labor there is no produce, and without produce, no sustenance.

Not only being made in the image of God, but also in the image of the Incarnate Son, the human person’s work is elevated. Gaudium et Spes articulates that the Son of God “worked with human hands” (Gaudium et Spes, 22). Leo XIII in Rerum Novarum says, “even He did not disdain to spend a great part of his life at the work of a carpenter. ‘Is not this the carpenter, the Son of Mary?’” (Rerum Novarum, 37; Mark 6:3). Christ builds edifices himself and thereby sanctifies man’s vocation to work and create. Ephrem the Syrian writes to illustrate that Christ is the head of men who work:

Blessed be Thy Nativity, Thou Head of Workmen, the impress whereof the ark bore, after which was fashioned the Tabernacle of the congregation that was for a time only! Our craft praises Thee, Who art our glory.  Make Thou the yoke which is light, yet easy, for them that bear it; make the measure, in which there can be no falseness. (Hymns on the Nativity, Hymn 6 [NPNF 2 13:239])

As Benedictines identify with ora et labora, so also all Christians ought to recognize that work is an essential part of being human and worshipping God. The Gospel itself is spread by men who work as fishermen. Rather than the Platonic lifestyle, which disdains laborious toil, the Christian life embraces it. The Divine Liturgy of John Chrysostom asks for God’s assistance for “those who toil.”{23} Gregory Nazianzus says that to seek the Divine is not a mere philosophical inquiry. On the contrary, he says that the apostles meet Jesus while they are fishing (Oration 27.1 [PG 35:12a]).

III. Divinization

While the word divinization is not a Biblical term, it expresses something rooted in Paul’s letters, namely, filial adoption. It was Clement of Alexandria who gave the doctrine adequate expression with the term deification, saying that “The Word of God became man in order that you may learn from a man how man may become God” (Exhortation to the Heathens, ch. 1 [ANF 2:174]).

In the OT, God is complete mystery and totally incomprehensible to the human mind without revelation. God, for instance, tells Moses that no one can even see God’s face without dying (Exod 33:20). Therefore, it would have been even more objectionable to the ancient Israelite to speak about real participation in the Divine. However, some of the ancient Greeks’ opinions support divine assimilation. Plato, who identifies a person with his or her soul, is a firm believer in the mind’s ability to be assimilated to God. He says, “Then the lover of wisdom associating with the divine order will himself become orderly and divine in the measure permitted to man,” and “For by the gods assuredly that man will never be neglected who is willing and eager to be righteous, and by the practice of virtue to be likened unto god so far as that is possible for man” (The Republic, 6.13 [500c–d] and 10.12 [613a–b]).{24} Similarly, Epictetus writes, “You are a fragment of God; you have within you a part of him” (The Discourses, 2.8).{25}

Drawing from this mentality and the Greek poet Aratos, Paul writes about the human relationship to divinity, “…that they should seek God, in the hope that they might feel after him and find him. Yet he is not far from each one of us. For, in Him we live and move and have our being; as even some of your poets have said, ‘For we are indeed his offspring’” (Acts 17:28). With this passage, Paul uses the Greeks’ poets and philosophical tradition to teach them how they relate to God. Paul’s conclusion is that humanity’s existence subsists in the Divine, or as Genesis puts it, man is created as the image of the Divine. Following the Incarnation, Christians have taught also that human nature has an innate capacity to receive the life of God. Thus, those receiving the Holy Spirit can further integrate into the Divine by living according to the Gospel.

a. Human Suffering

Paul says, “in my flesh I complete what is lacking in Christ’s afflictions for the sake of his body, that is, the church.”{26} This passage from Paul particularly illustrates the apostle’s agony as a genuine participating fragment of travail conjoined to the suffering of Jesus. John Paul II writes “suffering seems to be, and is, almost inseparable from man’s earthly existence” (Salvici Dolores, 3).{27} One of the hymns of John Damascus used in Byzantine rite funerals says,

What pleasure is there in our life that is not mixed with sorrow? What glory on earth that lasts? All are more fleeting than shadows, and more deceitful than a dream! In one moment death takes all away. But, You O Christ, in the light of your face, in the beauty of your holiness, give peace to our brother­—you have chosen, for You are the Lover of Mankind.{28}

However, the critical human inquiry concerning pain is why? For what purpose does mankind grieve and writhe so much during its earthly existence? As John Paul II remarks, often the question why? disrupts a human person’s thought and leads him or her to doubt the meaning of life, even doubt God’s existence (Salvici Dolores, 9). Christ himself expresses human agony when crucified, crying for God with Psalm 22: “Eli, Eli, la′ma sabach-tha′ni?” (Ps 22:1 and Matt 27:46). With this question, Christ shows that it is part of the human experience to ask: “Where is God in human suffering?”

The Gospel’s response to this question is manifest in the words of Paul, “we preach Christ crucified” (1 Cor 1:23). The suffering servant, Christ Jesus, is in and with our humanity. Athanasius comments on Isaiah 53 and clarifies that because the Word is made flesh, he not only heals but also suffers with mankind:

The Prophet said “carried;” and has not said, “He remedied our infirmities,” lest, as being external to the body, and only healing it, as He has always done, He should leave men subject still to death; but He carries our infirmities, and He Himself bears our sins, that it might be shown that He has become man for us, and that the body which in Him bore them, was His own body; and, while He received no hurt Himself by “bearing our sins in His body on the tree,” as Peter speaks, we men were redeemed from our own affections, and were filled with the righteousness of the Word. (<em>Four Discourses Against the Arians</em>, 3.31 [NPNF 2 4:411])

By becoming human, God can take on human suffering. Additionally, he not only can suffer for men and women, but also, as a human, he suffers with men and women. Thus, Athanasius points out that Isaiah 53 does not say simply that God “healed our infirmities” (Isa 53:5), but that he carried them as a brother human being who wants us not only to be healed, but also to overcome death and be with him in paradise.

The Church identifies suffering as a bright sadness. Commenting on suffering during Lent, the Orthodox theologian Alexander Schmemann says, “the purpose of Lent is not to force on us a few formal obligations, but to ‘soften’ our heart so that it may open itself to the realities of the spirit, to experience the hidden ‘thirst and hunger’ for communion with God.”{29} The scriptural definition of a soft heart is one in opposition to a hard heart, which is the symbol of stubbornness, pride, and self-reliance. When the heart is softened, a person trusts God, becomes detached and free.

b. Praxis and Theoria

Christian life is a life of repentance. As one dies with Christ in praxis, which is learning the commandments, so also does one rise with him in theoria, which is praying without distraction.

Praxis is the practical part of repenting. It is a life of μετάνοια, which denotes melancholy, fasting, solitude, and silence. Rather than being about self-harm or pessimism, the purpose of this regimen is “to ‘soften’ our heart … for communion with God.”{30} By depriving oneself of the things of this world so as to eliminate sin, one begins to thirst more for the things of heaven. Chrysostom says this “is a complete change and renewal of heart and mind [going] from the heart and mind of sin to the ‘mind of Christ’ (1 Cor 2:16)” ([FC 96:xiv]).{31} Therefore, by learning to tell the body “no,” one attains mastery of his flesh and is more able to submit it to the Spirit of Christ.

Essential to repentance is a life of prayer—the most human of acts. To speak with the creator is that for which humans are created. Many of the Philokalian Fathers define prayer as a human person placing the mind in the heart before God. Generally, the ancient Fathers agree on three stages of prayer: prayer of the body, prayer of the mind, and prayer of the heart.

The first stage of prayer relates to the body and pertains to leaving physical worldliness, the purpose of which is to leave behind any worry. John Climacus says, “All who have willingly left the things of the world, have certainly done so for the sake of the future Kingdom, or because of the multitude of their sins, or for love of God” (Ladder of Divine Ascent, Step 1 “On the Renunciation of the World,” n. 5). The second stage of prayer relates to the soul, and it involves clearing the mind. Theophan calls it mental prayer. In this stage, the Christian becomes even further detached from things of this world. He or she cultivates a silence and attentiveness to spiritual things. The mind becomes more accustomed to prayer, and a person might even find himself praying spontaneously. In the third and final stage, a person prays without distraction, becoming totally engrossed by Divine Reality. Dimitri of Rostov calls this stage the prayer of the heart and identifies the heart as the inner room Jesus speaks of in Matthew 6:

Wherever man is, his heart is always with him, and so, having collected his thoughts inside his heart, he can shut himself in and pray to God in secret, whether he be talking or listening, whether among few people or many. Inner prayer, if it comes to a man’s spirit when he is with other people, demands no use of lips or of books, no movement of the tongue or sound of the voice: and the same is true even when you are alone. All that is necessary is to raise your mind to God, and descend deep into yourself, and this can be done everywhere. (“The Inner Closet of the Heart,” <em>The Art of Prayer</em>, 46){32}

When prayer in the heart is undistracted, a person enters theoria, which is the contemplative aspect of divinization. Dimitri of Rostov describes it with illumination by fire, saying:

To kindle in his heart such a divine love, to unite with God in an inseparable union of love, it is necessary for a man to pray often raising the mind to him. For as a flame increases when it is constantly fed, so prayer, made often, with the mind dwelling ever more deeply in God, arouses divine love in the heart. And the heart, set on fire, will warm all the inner man, will enlighten and teach him, revealing to him all its unknown and hidden wisdom, and making him like a flaming seraph, always standing before God within his spirit, always looking at him within his mind, and drawing from this vision the sweetness of spiritual joy. (“The Inner Closet of the Heart,” <em>The Art of Prayer</em>, 47)

Having progressed to the level of theoria, a person begins to share more fully in the properties of the resurrection and experience the sentiments of peace and joy in the heart. A person begins to see the world the way God sees the world, living more intimately in both the visible and invisible realms of which human nature is made—the clay and the breath of God.

Additionally, the human person is by nature liturgical. In other words, men and women are made to pray and worship God together—as an ekklesia. They are asked to do so with the Rites that Christ institutes—“do this in remembrance of me” (Luke 22:19). Thus, the progression in Christian prayer is not to be solitary, but to be in a liturgical community—a Church.

IV. Longing with the Heart of Jesus

The Second Vatican Council’s Pastoral Constitution Gaudium et Spes expresses that Christ “thought with a human mind … and loved with a human heart” (Gaudium et Spes, 22). In Philippians 1:8, Paul says, “How I long for you all with the heart of Christ Jesus!” The Greek word for heart in this passage is splagchnois, which can mean affection—the translation most English Bibles use. However, a deeper look at the passage illustrates that Paul is purposefully not using an existential term. He uses a visceral one. And thus, the translation heart signifies far better the incarnate love from which Paul longs for his disciples. When interpreted as heart, a passage from Chrysostom makes much more sense, thus supporting this interpretive translation:

And what do the words mean, in the heart of Christ? They stand for “according to Christ”. Because you are believers, because you love Christ, because of the love that is according to Christ. He does not say love, but uses a still warmer expression, the heart of Christ, as though he had said, having become as a father to you through the relationship which is in Christ. For this imparts to us a warm heart and glowing heart. For He gives such a heart to His true servants. In this heart, says He, as though one should say, I love you with no natural heart, but with a warmer one, namely, that of Christ. How I long after you all … I am unable in words to represent to you my longing; it is therefore impossible to tell. For this cause I leave it to God, whose range is in the heart, to know this. (<em>On the Epistle to the Philippians</em>, Homily 2 [PG 62:189a]){33}

The passage from Paul’s letter to the Philippians demonstrates a relationship between the apostle’s heart and the heart of Jesus Christ. Paul uses the word splagchna to signify that the love of Jesus in him is not an idea; it is physically manifested in his flesh. Likewise, Nicholas Cabasilas interprets splagchna as heart: “Paul wrote to the Philippians that he loved them ‘with the splagchna of Jesus Christ’ (Phil 1:8), while of David, God says, ‘I have found a man after my own heart’ (1 Sam 13:14, Acts 13:22).”{34}­ Therefore, by comparing Paul to David, Cabasilas implicitly interprets splagchna with the significance of heart.

Chrysostom highlights that when Paul refers to Jesus’ compassion, he chooses to not use love (agape) but splagchna, thereby alluding to an incarnate (rather than a purely existential) term for Jesus’ affection. This incarnate term is warmer because it more intimately relates not only to the idea of love but to a person’s visceral, heartfelt, and gut-wrenching experience of it. Therefore, heart, being the symbol of warmth and personhood, is the better translation of splagchnois in Philippians 1:8.

Theophan the Recluse, also interpreting splagchna as heart, says this about the passage:

Yes, God is my witness that I love you tenderly in the bowels of Christ Jesus (Phil 1:8). I love you (ἐπιποθῶ); I consider you to be very desired people. I love you in the bowels (σπλάγχνοις) of Christ Jesus, through his grace, through his heart. He has expressed already a love so strong for you that no one considers there to be anything carnal or greedy in it for [selfish] gain. Although St. Paul loves all the Philippians so strongly to call them his desired people, his love, appealing to the testimony of God, is similar to that of Jesus Christ who loves us all; it is a pure selfless love, desiring the good for others more than for his own sake. St. Paul invokes the testimony of God not because he fears that one has no trust in him, but because of the great benevolence he brings to the Philippians. He says that they are tied to him (with their alms), but he does not want them to think that he loves them for this reason. He loves them for themselves, and indeed he adds: through the grace of Christ, through the heart of Christ. But what does this mean? He says again, “because of Christ; because you are faithful, because you love Christ, for the sole reason of your love in Christ.” He does not say, “with agape,” but with a more expressive force he says, “with the splagchna of Christ,” as if to say, “I love you as a father, according to the generation in Christ, so that this generation will procure for you an ardent, burning inflamed heart.” Such a heart is given alone in service to the Lord. It is with a great heart, says the Apostle, “I love you,” as if to say: “I love with a simple heart, but also ardently, with the heart of Christ.” “I love you all,” he says, “but the strength with which I love you is inexpressible. I am unable to express in words the love I bring you.” This is to be known by God, who alone can probe our hearts. (<em>Commentary on Philippians</em>, 2b){35}  

Though a Jew, Paul becomes the apostle to the Gentiles to the degree that he experiences for them sentiments of fatherhood—the charism of Jesus’ interior love for his people. To be as Christ is to have an illuminated heart, warm and glowing. It is to be like Paul, who expresses visceral love for his spiritual children, the Philippians. What Chrysostom, Theophan, and Cabasilas have in common is a mutual understanding of splagchna as heart. Thus, in their respective pedagogical texts, they teach that one ought to have a heart like Christ’s.

Having a warm and illuminated heart is the goal of spiritual progression; it is the end of theoria, when a person sees as God does.  This ability is what perfects the human person, allowing him to live as God intends—in reality.  

The inescapable reality so essential to the definition of man is the presence and nearness of God to every human person. The Psalmist proclaims: “O Lord, thou hast searched me and known me! Thou knowest when I sit down and when I rise up; thou discernment my thoughts from afar … Thou dost beset me behind and before, and layest thy hand upon me” (Ps 139:1–2, 5). The nearness of God to the human person intensifies when one is baptized in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Basil, convinced of the sacramental intensity of God’s indwelling, says, “Be attentive to yourself, so that you can be attentive to God” (Homilia in Illud, “Attende tibi ipse” n.8 [PG 31:217]). The reason Basil says this is because of the nearness in which God’s presence resides within the baptized. As the Fathers say man’s natural capacity is fulfilled when God is near, not only in via imaginis Dei, but also sacramentally—the life of the Holy Spirit in the human heart. Thus, the reality most evident to a human person, whose heart beats like Christ’s, is the perpetual nearness of God’s presence.

Conclusion

The human person is a trichotomy of body, soul, and spirit, made in the image and likeness of God and placed on the earth to live in relationship, till and work the soil, and unite the heavens and earth. Due to sin, man lives on a path of suffering and repentance from which he hopes to reunite his soul to God and participate in the Divine—to see God. And he does this by living in Christ, by working as Christ does, by thinking as Christ thinks, and by illuminating from the heart, as Chrysostom aptly describes Christ’s heart to do.

The question, what is man?, is one of the central enquiries of the Second Vatican Council, and it dominated the majority of John Paul II’s encyclicals. It is a question so apt for contemporary human beings, who so easily lose sight of their innate human properties in a culture developed by artificial intelligence and computer technology. While such advances are not evil, they can have a way of leading men and women away from what leads them to peace and fulfillment. They especially have the capacity to lead men and women away from wisdom–from the question of why?, which the Old Testament so fittingly and frequently asks.

Having come to a point of history in which many are unaccustomed to physical labor that directly provides sustenance or classical academia that attempts to understand human existence, it is prudent and safe to say that contemporary men and women are in need of understanding what it means to be human, and the only return to its origin is Christ. Christ works; he suffers; he loves; he lives in relationship; he thinks and creates. Becoming like Christ means to offer all of one’s normal human work, sufferings, and relationships. By doing so, one grows nearer to the God who created him or her.

Thus, in conclusion, to know one’s humanity, one must know the creator—the God who knit man in his mother’s womb (in Ps 139).  To ask the question, “what is a human person?” inevitably leads one to ask, “who is God?” because a creature is only fully defined in relation to its creator. Being made in the image of infinite, limitless, and eternal relational love, the human person is meant to live in divine love, offering himself or herself to God while on this earth, in order that he or she may be with God in eternity.