This book is only flawed because it is a poor nineteenth-century translation that obfuscates more than it reveals. For starters, its title here is unfortunately rendered and better translated as On the Formation of the Human, where the emphasis is on the process by which one becomes human rather than on the divine craftwork involved in the creation of any one human creature. Fortunately, Father John Behr, a renowned Orthodox priest and scholar, will soon release a new, more accurate translation of what is both a beautiful and instructive text from one of the most tenderhearted and astute Church Fathers. Per Behr, Gregory’s text is divided into two main parts: the first fifteen chapters articulate what it means that God creates the human person in the imago Dei, while the second half of the text describes its economy—how the imago Dei is worked out in the process by which one becomes more fully human. In accordance with his didactic purpose, Gregory therefore tackles several pertinent questions with respect to human subjectivity: is mind visible or invisible; how many parts are there to the human soul; what is the relation between soul and body; does the soul reside in a particular location or does it, as immaterial, have no specific locus; why did God create humans male and female; is there a resurrection, and if so, why has it not yet happened; how will human souls inhabit resurrected bodies if our physical bodies decay; when is the human soul created; and, on more practical terrain, what is the functional relationship between the brain, the heart, and the liver? On its own, the text is an excellent primer for those new to the Christian faith, for those who are troubled by some of its principal doctrines, or even for those comfortable with the tradition who nevertheless seek to more fully understand that which most fundamentally makes humans distinct from the rest of creation—namely, the imago Dei.
The question I aim to focus on here concerns why God created humans male and female in the text of Genesis, which presents interpreters with a hermeneutical problem. Gregory writes: “That which was made ‘in the image’ is one thing, and that which is now manifested in wretchedness is another. ‘God created man,’ it says; ‘in the image of God [He] created him.’ There is an end of the creation of that which was made ‘in the image’: then it makes a resumption of the account of creation, and says, ‘male and female [He] created them.’ I presume that everyone knows that this is a departure from the Prototype: for ‘in Christ Jesus,’ as the apostle says, ‘there is neither male nor female’ (Galatians 3:28). Yet the phrase declares that man is thus divided” (16.7, my emphasis).
Unfortunately, Philip Schaff’s translation obscures the fact that in the Greek text, the word translated as “end”—as in, “there is an end of the creation . . .”—is telos, that is, the final cause or ultimate purpose of the human created in the imago Dei. The imago Dei, then, is the ultimate aim of human existence to which God creates humans to conform in voluntary self-sacrificial love, and which humans do not by virtue of sheer existence necessarily embody. One becomes like the imago Dei, whom Christ alone perfectly exemplifies, and thus en route to the imago Dei, one becomes Christlike. Still, the hermeneutical aporia persists, since the distinction between male and female, Gregory observes, “is alien from our conceptions of God” (16.8): If God creates humans in the imago Dei, then why does he fashion human creatures with a distinction not found in the divine? Gregory’s response: “I think that by these words Holy Scripture conveys to us a great and lofty doctrine, and the doctrine is this: While two natures—the Divine and incorporeal nature, and the irrational life of brutes—are separate from each other as extremes, human nature is the mean between them: for in the compound nature of man we may behold a part of each of the natures I have mentioned—of the Divine, the rational and intelligent element, which does not admit the distinction of male and female; of the irrational, our bodily form and structure, divided into male and female: for each of these elements is certainly to be found in all that partakes of human life” (16.9).
There is much more to say about Gregory’s interpretation than I have room for here. A brief sketch of John Behr’s interpretation of Gregory’s remarks will have to suffice. For starters, Behr notes that Gregory claims that the interpretation he proposes constitutes doctrine—and a “lofty” one at that. This characterization renders Gregory’s claim about human nature as the mean between the divine and the natural (or irrational) extremely important. On Behr’s interpretation, which I find persuasive, Gregory does not intend to communicate to his readers, as is commonly stated, that God foresaw the Fall—i.e. that humans would turn away from God in sin, which would, in turn, necessitate the salvific sacrifice of Christ on the cross—and that, in accordance with this inexorable betrayal, God created humans as male and female so that they could procreate in a manner suitable to their sinful state. On such an interpretation, Gregory intimates that humans would have procreated in some other, less sinful way had they not sinned, yet God knew that they would sin, so he created them with their fallen nature in mind. Behr, however, suspects that this is not what Gregory actually means by his aforementioned comments on Genesis 1:27.
Instead, Behr proposes that Gregory identifies in the text of Genesis 1:27 a process by which the human creature becomes fully itself. If the imago Dei is the proper end of the human creature, then the human must necessarily start from someplace else—namely, as either male or female. In Christ, to be sure, there is neither male nor female, yet humans born of the flesh are not, as such, Christlike—they must become like Christ, as mentioned earlier. Humans must, in the sacramental vocabulary of Christian baptism, die to their earthly selves in order to be born into their divine-like selves, and in this baptism—which is no mere one-off event, but rather a ceaseless, iterative process over the course of the Christian life, taken up each day and at every moment—transcend the division between male and female to become like Christ—that is, to become most fully human. Thus in Adam, the first man, there is male and female, yet in Christ, the new man, there is neither male nor female, and this represents a maturation or journey by which humans conform to the imago Dei. Behr also adds that, on this interpretation, Christian matrimony is not, as is likewise commonly assumed, ultimately about procreation or the space in which permissible sexual activity can take place, but about martyrdom—that is, it concerns the union in which one learns to lay down one’s life in voluntary, self-sacrificial love for the sake of one’s friend in imitation of Christ on the cross. By martyrdom in the context of marital union and friendship, one transcends the division between male and female and becomes more fully human—more accurately, one dies to one’s self in Adam and is born to one’s self in Christ. If this interpretation is plausible, then Gregory does not so much seek to explain why God created humans as male and female, but rather aims to demonstrate that God created humans with initial and final states, where the former is not the result of sinfulness but, rather, the point of necessary departure on each of our respective life journeys with the imago Dei and Christ in view.