I. Patristic Interpretation: A Contextual Method?
Theological methodology in the early centuries of the Christian church was not as systematically branched out as it is today. It involved starkly different exegetical practices and presuppositions. Theologians did not specialize in specific academic disciplines or pastoral work. Instead, they embarked on interlacing multiple tasks such as interpreting the Scripture, developing catechetical materials, and answering various contentions against the Christian faith. Since articulating the message and implications of Scripture in systematic form demanded a high level of persuasion, theologians drew upon philosophical categories and frameworks available in their time. Philosophy in this context should be understood as a branch of culture because it reflects, shapes, and interacts with the values, beliefs, and intellectual traditions of one’s society.
Origen of Alexandria is among the most prominent early Church Fathers who attempted to use intellectual traditions outside the confessional and creedal norms of the church. For him, Greek philosophy is, to some degree, an emulation of biblical wisdom. It is therefore unsurprising that he recognized a number of Greek philosophical concepts aligning with Christian thought. In one of his works, for instance, he described his approach in an attempt to see if the word “bodiless” in Greek philosophy can be used to describe the nature of God:
We shall inquire … whether the actual thing which Greek philosophers call ἀσώματος (that is, “bodiless”) is found in the holy Scriptures under another name. For it is also to be investigated how God himself is to be understood, whether as bodily and formed according to some shape, or of a different nature than bodies, a point which is not clearly indicated in our preaching. The same is also to be investigated even regarding Christ and the Holy Spirit, and indeed it is to be investigated no less of every soul and every rational nature … Everyone, therefore, who desires to construct a certain structure and body of all these things, in accordance with reason, must make use of elements and foundations of this sort, according to the precept which says, Enlighten yourselves with the light of knowledge, that by clear and cogent arguments the truth about each particular point may be discovered, and he may form, as we have said, one body, by means of illustrations and assertions, either those which he came upon in the holy Scriptures or those which he discovered followed from investigation and right reason.2
Several observations should be drawn out of Origen’s approach in interacting with the philosophical sources. First, as a systematic body of knowledge, theology must be articulated with clarity and intellectual rigor. These standards of articulation should not be compromised or subordinated to faith, as if faith were inherently nonrational. Second, Origen acknowledged the value of engaging philosophical concepts that might assist in articulating theological claims—particularly, in this case, the doctrine of God’s incorporeality. Whatever insights derived from human reason apart from the biblical material are not necessarily incompatible or inoperative in theological reflection. Rather, such concepts could contribute meaningfully to the development of doctrine when analyzed and appropriately integrated. Third and most importantly, Origen presupposed the canonical voice of the Scripture. Whether a concept could be legitimately employed or dismissed rests on the degree to which the Scripture attests its theological plausibility.
Gregory of Nyssa expressed his theological method in the same format one can see in Origen. He did not perceive a dichotomy between faith and reason; instead, he sought a theological articulation in which analytical reflection serves to illuminate, rather than obscure, the witness of Scripture. At the beginning of On the Making of Man, he clarifies that his treatise will present a two-pronged approach, interlacing Scripture and analytical thought together:
For it is our business … to leave nothing unexamined of all that concerns man,—of what we believe to have taken place previously, of what we now see, and of the results which are expected afterwards to appear; and, moreover, we must fit together, according to the explanation of Scripture and to that derived from reasoning, those statements concerning him which seem, by a kind of necessary sequence, to be opposed, so that our whole subject may be consistent in train of thought and in order, as the statements that seem to be contrary are brought (if the Divine power so discovers a hope for what is beyond hope, and a way for what is inextricable) to one and the same end.3
We can see here that Scripture and reason hold a symbiotic relationship in Gregory’s thought. The coherence of the Christian faith (“consistent in train of thought and in order”) is attained through Scripture’s interaction with cultural thought forms. Thus, the theological process is not without speculative rumination, logical analysis, and empirical observation. His use of “conjectures and inferences” or “theoretical speculation” is pivotal in demonstrating biblical claims about God and the nature of creation.4 This allowed Gregory’s theological vision to attain both conceptual coherence and contextual relevance.
A similar method is evident in Gregory’s philosophical work, On the Soul and Resurrection. In this work, he affirms the sufficiency of Scripture for establishing Christian doctrine yet simultaneously acknowledges the constructive role of reason in theological inquiry. He observes that while Scripture is adequate, “the weakness of the human understanding is strengthened still farther by any arguments that are intelligible”; as such, the use of “philosophical examination” is not only permissible but beneficial.5 Gregory’s method anticipates what might today be termed contextualization or the attempt to articulate theological claims in ways that are intelligible through the use of idioms and frameworks within one’s cultural milieu. It is from this standpoint that Gregory of Nyssa interpreted the biblical account of creation, and particularly the concept of imago dei.
II. A Composite of Divine Image
Gregory of Nyssa’s interpretation of the imago dei is, above all, theological in character. Central to his understanding is the nature of the Son, who serves as the archetype according to which humanity is fashioned.6 This archetypal pattern chiefly encompasses the notions of divine sovereignty, beauty and goodness, and rationality. However, given that many of the questions prompting Gregory’s treatise On the Making of Man were fundamentally philosophical, his response necessarily assumes a multifaceted form. While firmly rooted in theological conviction, Gregory’s exposition is shaped and enriched by philosophical categories.
“Rule over all the creatures”
Early in his treatise, Gregory points out that the basic definition of imago dei is for humanity to rule or exercise dominion over other created beings. Once again employing logical thought, he first derived this truth from the chronological order of creation. The world (“a royal treasure-house”) and all nonhuman creatures were created in preparation for the arrival of its rulers.7 Here, the majestic entrance of image bearers occurred when the beholders of glory are already in place. This scenario yields few implications.
First, the arrival of the king portends the subjugation of the created realm. Yet rather than justifying the uncontrolled subversion of nature as a display of the force of human dominion, Gregory understands ruling to be tied up with the concept of stewardship, befitting to vassal rulers who are accountable to the Creator. Dominion is in part enabled by what might seem like a deficiency in human nature—namely, that we are not as strong or swift as many other creatures. This is by God’s design, Gregory explains, as it fosters a mutual interest between human and nonhuman creation, with humans harnessing the various powers of other creatures.8
Secondly, for Gregory, even the basic experience of gratification via creation conveys a theological purpose. According to Nyssen, God “manifests man in the world, to be the beholder of some of the wonders therein, and the lord of others; that by his enjoyment he might have knowledge of the Giver, and by the beauty and majesty of the things he saw might trace out that power of the Maker which is beyond speech and language.”9
Finally, in Chapter IV of On the Making of Man, we encounter the concept of self-governance or the exercise of free will to complete the picture of the royal position granted to all of humanity. “For the soul immediately shows its royal and exalted character, far removed as it is from the lowliness of private station, in that it owns no lord, and is self-governed, swayed autocratically by its own will; for to whom else does this belong than to a king?”10 The idea of human freedom might simply be an implied aspect of possessing a divine imprint, but as we shall later see, it is a crucial element within the broader framework of Gregory’s imago dei.
“Clothe in virtue”
In certain philosophical and theological traditions, beauty is regarded as a virtue when it reflects harmony, order, and transcendence. For instance, Plato believed that beauty must be seen as a reflection of the divine and a pathway to understanding higher truths. In this sense, beauty is not merely physical but also moral and intellectual. Likewise, Aquinas taught that beauty is a property of God and creation. It is virtuous when it lifts the soul toward God and aligns with truth and goodness.
Aside from status (royalty) and function (dominion), Gregory believed that the image of God encompasses a moral essence. Before the Fall, humanity possessed an “exalted character” and was “clothed in virtue.”11 Theologically, this beauty and goodness is an outgrowth of divine character (Ps. 145:9; see Luke 6:45). The statement in the creation narrative that says, “God saw that it was good,” pertains to God’s satisfaction in the result of his deeds (Ps. 104:31) because his handiwork has the potentiality to reveal his glory (Ps. 19:1). The archetypal beauty of the Creator subsumed into human form is further specified as “purity, freedom from passion, blessedness, alienation from all evil, and all those attributes of the like kind which help to form … the likeness of God.”12 Gregory puts forward that these characteristics are necessary to facilitate a divinely granted capacity for humanity to participate in the very life of God:
He creates man for no other reason than that He is good; and being such, and having this as His reason for entering upon the creation of our nature, He would not exhibit the power of His goodness in an imperfect form, giving our nature some one of the things at His disposal, and grudging it a share in another: but the perfect form of goodness is here to be seen by His both bringing man into being from nothing, and fully supplying him with all good gifts … The language of Scripture therefore expresses it concisely by a comprehensive phrase, in saying that man was made “in the image of God”: for this is the same as to say that He made human nature participant in all good; for if the Deity is the fulness of good, and this is His image, then the image finds its resemblance to the Archetype in being filled with all good.13
This forceful remark that the goodness of God is a necessary precondition for the goodness of humanity conforms to a larger philosophical discussion concerning the nature of substance. In Greek philosophical thought, a substance cannot produce or exhibit anything contrary to its nature.14 Gregory presupposes this logic affirming that God “would not exhibit the power of His goodness in an imperfect form” and that human goodness emanates from the divine substance (i.e., “perfect form of goodness”).
It is noteworthy that Hans Urs von Balthasar recognized the presence of a philosophical dimension in Gregory of Nyssa’s identification of goodness as a constituent aspect of imago dei. However, he attributed the underlying influence in this regard to Plotinus, thereby suggesting that Gregory’s conception is shaped, at least in part, by Neoplatonic metaphysical thought.15
“Rational animal”
The human capacity for reason occupies a central place in Gregory of Nyssa’s understanding of imago dei. While he adopts a classical description of the human being as a “rational animal,” he emphasizes that rationality constitutes the distinctive feature that still sets humanity apart from the rest of creation. This, he argues, is because such capacity bears “an accurate resemblance to the superior nature”—a reflection of divine nature.16 If human beings alone bear the image of God, then any attribute shared with nonhuman creatures must be excluded from the defining marks of that image. Within this framework, Gregory maintains that the order of creation is deliberate: God brings the world into being progressively, from the lesser to the greater, with humanity reserved for the final act of creation. In this climactic moment, human beings are endowed with what other creatures lack, thereby completing and crowning God’s creative work.17
It can be argued that Gregory’s use of “rational animal” is a conceptual import. We can identify two possible sources: Aristotle and Porphyry. In Politics, Aristotle took an interest in the way people, unlike any animals, judge between good and evil, just and unjust in their ordering of society. By virtue of this ability to utilize language and participate in discourses, we dominate the animal kingdom and hence can rightly be called political animals.18
On the surface, such a communicative advantage might separate us from brute creatures, but ironically, it could also jeopardize our esteemed position. As Aristotle explains, “For man, when perfected, is the best of animals, but, when separated from law and justice, he is the worst of all; since armed injustice is the more dangerous, and he is equipped at birth with arms, meant to be used by intelligence and excellence, which he may use for the worst ends.”19
Aristotle further purported that both humans and animals possess a vegetative mode of existence.20 Yet, humans are still superior on account of their ability to determine a course of action based on autonomous use of reason: “For of all animals man alone stands erect, in accordance with his god-like nature and substance. For it is the function of the god-like to think and to be wise.”21 Neoplatonist thinkers like Porphyry rejected Aristotle’s claim that humans are the only rational creatures. They maintained that human beings are animals but with a higher degree of mental capability.22
A comparable interpretive approach is reflected in Gregory’s thought. First, because the imago dei results in humans having bodies primed for speech and reason,23 we are able to exercise dominion and make moral judgments.24 Second, together with nonhuman animals, we also possess a vegetative mode of existence, adequate for nutrition and growth.25 This is a significant observation because on these grounds we can apprehend what it means for us to be “rational animals.” Gregory imported Aristotle’s tripartite analysis of the soul.
In his treatise On the Soul, Aristotle articulates a comprehensive framework for understanding the nature of living beings through the functions of the soul. He classifies living organisms according to three progressively complex modes of life: (1) the capacity for nutrition, growth, and reproduction; (2) the capacity for movement and sense perception; and (3) the capacity for intellectual activity, including both practical deliberation and theoretical contemplation.26 On the basis of these functional distinctions, Aristotle proposes a tripartite division of the soul: the vegetative (or nutritive), the appetitive (or sensitive), and the intellective (or rational).
Hence we must ask in the case of each order of living things, What is its soul, i.e., What is the soul of plant, man, beast? Why the terms are related in this serial way must form the subject of examination. For the power of perception is never found apart from the power of self-nutrition, while—in plants—the latter is found isolated from the former. Again, no sense is found apart from that of touch, while touch is found by itself; many animals have neither sight, hearing, nor smell. Again, among living things that possess sense some have the power of locomotion, some not. Lastly, certain living beings—a small minority—possess calculation and thought, for (among mortal beings) those which possess calculation have all the other powers above mentioned, while the converse does not hold—indeed some live by imagination alone, while others have not even imagination.27
Each level of soul activity presupposes the existence of the lower: all living beings possess the vegetative soul, animals possess both vegetative and appetitive souls, and human beings, alone among creatures, possess the intellective soul. The soul, in this schema, is not a separate substance but the form of the body or the organizing principle that actualizes the potential of a living organism. Rationality, as the highest expression of the soul’s capacities, distinguishes the human being and orients the person toward truth, moral deliberation, and ultimately the contemplation of the divine.
In the same manner, Gregory describes a threefold structure of human existence, comprising the vegetative, sensual, and rational modes. The vegetative mode governs the biological functions of growth and nutrition, the sensual mode pertains to sense perception and empirical experience, and the rational mode encompasses the intellectual and spiritual dimensions of human life. These modes enable humanity both dominion over creation and contemplative ascent toward God.
Gregory substantiates this anthropological framework through engagement with biblical text. He appropriates each mode with a corresponding aspect of human nature: the body with the vegetative, the soul with the sensual, and the spirit with the rational. In doing so, he presents a theological anthropology in which human nature is ordered hierarchically and teleologically, with rationality as the highest expression of the divine image within the human person.
| Biblical Texts | Vegetative | Sensual | Rational |
| Plants | Animals | Human | |
| Eph. 5:23 | Body | Soul | Spirit |
| Mark 12:30 | Heart | Soul | Mind |
| 1 Cor. 2:14–15; 3:3 | Natural | Carnal | Spiritual |
Gregory’s Biblical Appropriation of Aristotle’s Tripartite Analysis of the Soul
It is hardly a coincidence that Gregory’s analysis of what constitutes a human person closely mirrors Aristotle’s view.28 There is a strong likelihood that Gregory appropriates a broadly accepted philosophical framework concerning the nature of animated beings in his attempt to establish the preeminence of human nature. This Aristotelian anthropology exerted a formative influence not only in Gregory’s thought but also on later Christian theological reflection, particularly in the development of doctrines concerning the nature of the human person as a rational being. The tripartite division is reinterpreted within a theological framework, wherein the rational soul becomes the locus of divine image bearing, and the hierarchy of soul functions mirrors a teleological ascent toward union with God.
The following section will examine Gregory’s rhetoric in addressing the universally accepted institution of slavery. As hinted above, the effectiveness of his method lies, in part, in the way philosophical insight shapes and informs his theology. This foundation sets the stage for a closer examination of early Christian discourses on slavery where theological reflection began to intersect more pointedly with immediate social realities. Such intersections are opportunities for demonstrating the relevance of imago dei in the cultural fabric of society.
III. Early Discourses on Slavery
“A Tool with a Soul”
Gregory of Nyssa lived during a time when slavery was still ingrained in the cultural fabric of the known world. The institution of slavery has been tied to economic, sociopolitical, and cultural structures of a society. Slaves were necessary commodities for labor, household, and entertainment industries. This condition explains why opposition to the institution of slavery, even on moral grounds, was rare. Chris L. de Wet stresses that for Plato, the legitimacy of owning slaves is not much of an agenda for political discourse; instead, Plato’s focus was on determining “what type of slave management would be best in the interest of the household and society.”29 The pretext for the proliferation of human bondage can be surveyed in the intellectual landscape prevalent in the ancient world.
Aristotle described the nature of a slave as: (1) one “marked out for subjection” “from the hour of their birth”;30 (2) a “living tool” unsuited for a deeper level of friendship with the master”;31 and, (3) equal to animals, existing to attend to the necessities of the masters.32 Aristotle even assumed that because the body structure of slaves is stronger than their masters, they are meant to serve. Because of this association with nonhuman creatures, it became easier to look at slaves merely as tools rather than persons.
A few centuries later, Seneca, a Stoic philosopher and a slave owner, offered a somewhat consolatory teaching for the slaves to cope with the adverse conditions they experienced. Contrary to Aristotle’s view that virtue is beyond the capacity of slaves, Seneca argued for their adequacy to obtain it.33 In Seneca’s time, virtue was viewed as a central element of ethics and was considered necessary for attaining happiness or, at least, becoming worthy of any favorable circumstances. Seneca also pivoted to asserting that ownership of slaves is only limited to the possession of nothing but the body of a human person. As he puts it,
It is a mistake to think that slavery penetrates to the core of a human being. The best part of him is exempt. Bodies are vulnerable, assigned to masters; but the mind is autonomous, so free and independent that even the prison that contains it cannot prevent it from using its own powers to undertake great deeds and from departing for the infinite. … And so it is only the body that … is what he buys and sells. That inner part of a person cannot be owned. Whatever comes from this inner part is free.34
Because it is only the material nature that can be bound to subjection, separation from the body secures genuine emancipation: “A person who has learned how to die has unlearned how to be a slave.”35 Whereas Aristotle gives a metaphysical framework to justify slavery, Seneca promises an incorporeal emancipation by means of transcending the material realm.
In the Scripture, we can see an ordering of communal life that promoted the welfare of slaves. Deuteronomy 15:12–18 stipulates protection against lifelong enslavement of domestic slaves. Moses used the Israelites’ deliverance from slavery in Egypt as a ground for their compassion toward their neighbors who sold themselves to slavery out of poverty. Yet an even more generous provision is given to protect foreign slaves who escaped their masters (Deut. 23:15–16). Extradition treaties are part of Mesopotamian and Hittite law, a policy designed to address a growing number of runaway slaves.36 Yet God requires the nation of Israel to provide shelter for these slaves should they appear in the gates of their cities to take refuge. Slaves are to gain their freedom and enjoy the blessings of the covenant.
A Christian Slave?
The New Testament, however, reveals that the institution of slavery continued to be integrated in the life of the people, including those who belong to the community of faith.37 S. Scott Bartchy remarks that, even in the succeeding centuries after the apostolic age, “no ancient government ever sought to abolish slavery,” and the slaves who managed to carry out successful revolts did so not even for the sake of political reform but for hostile takeover of elite status and estates. Some even enslaved their masters.38 Bartchy adds that thinkers and writers such as Epictetus and Aesop, who formerly experienced the horrors of slavery, never spoke against such institutions in their discourses. Some who managed to gain their freedom and become elite members of their community, such as Pasion, Diphilus, and Epicrates, even acquired slaves of their own.39
It makes sense, then, that in Paul’s epistle to the Corinthian believers, the admonishment is for the congregation to live out their “calling”40 in whatever social status God has bestowed upon them: “Only, as the Lord has assigned to each one, as God has called each, in this manner let him walk” (1 Cor. 7:17). Though this guiding principle was given to the question of preference between matrimony and celibacy, Paul connects the discussion of social status with circumcision, marital separation, and remarriage. However, it perturbs our modern sensitivities to read that such a principle is further applied to slavery (1 Cor. 7:21–24). The question this raises, of course, is whether Paul did indeed wish for slavery to continue.
Notwithstanding this and the clause where Paul encouraged the slaves to embrace freedom when available, the general principle of remaining with God seems to suggest that social status is not something that should bother God’s people. Is Paul supporting the status quo when it comes to slavery? The answer surely lies well beyond the scope of this project, but it is sufficient at least to say that the reading of the passage should not be detached from the overarching motif of eschatological expectation where the apostle contends that the “form of this world is passing away” (1 Cor. 7:29–35), including every social structure that pertains to human relationships or social status. As such, the principle does not overshadow social justice but sets the preoccupation of the people of God off the temporal sphere of existence toward the commitment to “sanctify the setting of their calling” in view of the coming of the Lord.41 The lack of explicit biblical directive that could compel the church to confront slavery directly undoubtedly contributed to the continuance of the oppressive institution among Christian households. Thus, the New Testament epistles contain exemplary codes of conduct for both masters and slaves.42
This continued in the succeeding centuries of the church. Writing in the fourth century, Basil of Caesarea argued that even though “no one is a slave by nature,” the level of disparity among human creatures with regards to intelligence may be a divine scheme for designating who is fit to rule those with lower intelligence.43 Expressing a different perspective, John Chrysostom considered slavery not as a natural condition but a consequence of human depravity. “Whence is slavery,” Chrysostom asked, “and why it has found entrance into human life?”44 If one should answer from the Genesis account, it should be clear that this is not part of the original created order: “When God formed man, He did not make him a slave, but free.”45 Besides, the human body was designed in a functional manner where it does “not stand in need of servants.”46 Chrysostom’s homily on Ephesians 6:5–8 provided a convictive answer to the question of slavery’s origin. According to Chrysostom, slavery is a consequence of human sinfulness, and particularly the curse of Ham when he disrespected his father, Noah. It is “the fruit of covetousness, of degradation, of savagery. … The thing was the fruit of sin, of rebellion against parents.”47
Moreover, similar to Seneca and Stoic philosophers, Chrysostom subscribed to the idea that all human beings are slaves in some sense. On the one hand, real bondage is being able to sin. Servitude to evil passion forces masters to abandon reason and subject themselves to the whim of another. On the other hand, divine bondage precedes genuine freedom. Slaves, who are not intoxicated with sin but rather led by the vision of the holiness available in Christ, become capable of virtue and nobility. Chrysostom then ushers the congregation to think beyond social status toward a more salutary analysis of their identity:
Slave and free are simply names. What is a slave? It is a mere name. How many masters lie drunken on their beds, while slaves stand by sober? Whom shall I call a slave? The one who is sober, or the one who is drunk? The one who is the slave of a man, or the one who is the captive of passion? The former has his slavery on the outside; the latter wears his captivity on the inside.48
Chrysostom’s unique perspective answers the social issue through a spiritual framework. The slaves can be free by attaining a virtuous life in Christ while the masters will remain in the slavery of their lust and passion. This comes alongside Chrysostom’s reiteration of what the apostle Paul communicated: that slavery, as a social institution bred by human sinfulness, should not hinder God’s people from living in godliness. He explains:
How then is the slave a free man? Because He has freed thee not only from sin, but also from outward slavery while continuing a slave. For he suffers not the slave to be a slave, not even though he be a man abiding in slavery: and this is the great wonder. But how is the slave a free man while continuing a slave? When he is freed from passions and the diseases of the mind: when he looks down upon riches and wrath and all other the like passions.49
Together with the continuation of slavery in the New Testament and in the succeeding centuries, we can see that even the early church generally accepted slavery as part of the social context where individuals, both masters of slaves, can live a flourishing Christian life. However, this was not acceptable for Gregory of Nyssa. What is really at stake for him is not whether slaves can be faithful Christians while they serve their masters or not. Instead, the spiritual peril rather lies in the masters’ neglect of the divine image that should be reflected in their slaves.
IV. Imago Dei: A Rhetoric for Emancipation
Dominion
During the Great Lent of 379, the same year Macrina died, Gregory gave his congregation a series of provocative homilies on the book of Ecclesiastes, which included his conviction that condemns slavery. At the outset, he emphasized the danger of being enchanted by the material possessions of this world. The danger of pursuing power and authority for the purpose of accumulation of material riches could lead to an inordinate desire to possess a fellow human being.50 That is why in this series of sermons, Gregory attempts “to raise the mind above sensation, to persuade it to abandon all that seems to be great and splendid in the world of existence, to catch a glimpse through the eyes of the soul of those things which are unattainable by sense-perception, and to conceive a desire for those things to which sense does not attain.”51 Within this context and in relation to slavery, the focus of Nyssen’s argument is for God’s redeemed community to find the real value of a human person by reiterating what it means for humanity to be made in the image of God.
With Solomon in mind, Gregory’s first argument exposes the moral corruption of slavery (Eccles. 2:7). It manifests of one’s pride. It not only holds other human beings in contempt but also defies God’s absolute dominion. In his words,
I got me slaves and slave-girls, he says, and homebred slaves were born for me. Do you notice the enormity of the boast? This kind of language is raised up as a challenge to God … So, when someone turns the property of God into his own property and arrogates dominion to his own kind, so as to think himself the owner of men and women, what is he doing but overstepping his own nature through pride, regarding himself as something different from his subordinates?52
Gregory of Nyssa finds in slavery a usurpation of God’s authority because slave owners are imposing absolute rule over their slaves. No one can assert dominion over those who, like them, have been given the task to have dominion over the created world. Slavery is not only incompatible with the message of salvation but also marks one’s usurpation of divine rule. “God would not therefore reduce the human race to slavery,” says Gregory, “since he himself, when we had been enslaved to sin, spontaneously recalled us to freedom. But if God does not enslave what is free, who is he that sets his own power above God’s?”53
Gregory also challenges his audience to justify slavery by presenting a biological advantage of slave owners over their slaves. Here, we can see the appeal to familiar concepts in the study of the natural world, particularly on human anatomy. He demands to know “something extra” that could establish the slave owners’ superiority such as (1) different air to breathe, (2) a way of subsistence that does not require the consumption of food, (3) an excellent “arrangement of their guts”, or (4) a more splendid destination after death.54 Without these extenuating conditions, slave owners have no physiological advantage to assert their superiority much less right to possess another human being.55
Free Will
Gregory’s view that free will is a necessary component in pursuing virtue also holds a major key in his rhetoric against slavery.56 Slavery is a serious obstacle in human participation of God’s goodness because the imago dei entails free will. In On the Soul and Resurrection, he avers that “as everything that is free will be united with its like and as virtue is a thing that has no master, that is, is free, everything that is free will be united with virtue. But, further, the Divine Being is the fountain of all virtue. Therefore, those who have parted with evil will be united with Him.”57 Biblical commands and principles for moral behavior (e.g., the Decalogue, Shema, and the Beatitudes) are predicated on our choice to love or reject God. This does not undermine the theological truth that no matter how many times we choose to obey God, apart from his enabling grace, we remain in our rebellious condition.
The absence of a fully explicit account of free will in Scripture appears to have prompted Gregory to articulate the concept through the interpretive lenses and cultural thought forms available within his context. Ilaria Ramelli argues that the connections Gregory makes between free will, virtue, and imago dei are a result of his theological appropriation of Plato.58 Rightly so, in the Republic, Plato writes that “Virtue knows no master … The choice makes you responsible. God is not responsible.”59 Given the striking similarity in vocabulary and the shared context (discourse on virtue), it is reasonable to conclude that Ramelli’s suggestion appears plausible. While the primacy of the theological context (human slavery to sin) in Gregory’s thought should not be dismissed, it is evident that he derived from this reality that all forms of slavery constitute a subversion of imago dei.
Furthermore, one can also draw a parallel nexus between Gregory and Aristotle concerning the discussion of moral responsibility.60 In Against Fate, Gregory uses a more dialectical approach in defending the nature of free will against astrological fatalism. The notion that the movement of stars and the time of one’s birth direct human actions is incompatible with the principle of personal responsibility for one’s actions. He writes:
Do the heavenly powers, heat from the planet Mars, or any other celestial body frustrate and paralyze a person either through his own consent or against his will? If anyone who willingly does evil and inflicts injury admits to his behavior, he is indeed miserable. Instead of choosing the good, he has opted for ignominy brought on by pleasure. If he commits these deeds not through choice but by necessity, then some other higher fate has determined the attributes and capacities proper to human nature.61
If human actions are determined solely by the sway of external forces, whether it is an aftermath of cosmic flux or a directive from the slave-owners, then there is no sufficient condition for God to hold people accountable for their actions. Both philosophers and theologians agree that moral responsibility presupposes a freedom to choose between good and evil. But since slaves are not given a choice but compelled to decide and act in certain ways, their capacity to advance in virtue by freely aligning themselves with God’s will is inhibited and, as such, they are prevented from attaining the fullness of God’s image.
Rebekah Eklund also demonstrates that in Nyssen’s Homilies on the Beatitudes, it is explicit that the restoration of God’s image is not eschatological realization but a present endeavor.62 Manumission therefore provides a context for the slaves to partake in the recovery of the divine image imprinted upon them.
Rationality
Slavery creates an exclusive environment whereby only the masters are free to represent God’s rule and to make moral choices. Yet more than this, as a pretext for a deeper form of oppression, slavery objectifies a human person to the extent that God’s image is reduced or obscured to the nature of ordinary or lesser creatures. Gregory argues that slavery demotes humans to nonhuman animal status—“a level with four-footed things and even footless things.”63 Drawing from tripartite analysis of a human person where imago dei corresponds to one’s rational mode of existence, slaves, by virtue of their lifelong bondage for the service of their masters, are essentially treated as irrational beasts, devoid of divine image. A similar emphasis appears in “Homily V” of Our Father, which highlights that God never willed for rational beings to suffer such degradation: “When your anger burns against a servant, it does not enter into your mind that it is not nature but love of power that has divided humankind into servants and masters. For the Administrator of the universe established a law that the nature without reason must serve humanity.”64 With the disregard of this divine order in treating slaves as animals, Gregory goes even further to ask what particular livestock produced a slave.65
At the end, slave owners must reflect on whether it is fitting for those liberated by God from the oppression of sin to continually subject their fellow human to bondage. The freedom we have in Christ should be an ethical paradigm for recovering the image of God once marred by the fall.
V. Conclusion
This study has examined Gregory’s appropriation of philosophical concepts to articulate a theological anthropology grounded in the concept of imago dei. Part of the reason in emphasizing the interaction between philosophy and theology is a conviction that although the technical term “contextual theology” emerged as part of the development of Christian theology in the recent century, its various expressions have long been embedded in patristic interpretive praxis. As such, approaches and concepts in the early patristic tradition should not be overlooked in contemporary theological discourse. They continue to hold enduring relevance even for addressing ecclesial and social challenges facing the church today.
For instance, crucial to Gregory’s account of slavery is his engagement with the cultural thought forms in his context, especially appropriating and criticizing a few prevailing philosophical constructs. This gives relevance and weight to his view that imago dei is to be realized in a person’s exercise of dominion, free will, and rationality. Despite the integrated teachings of the church whereby slaves are generally directed to conform to the Christian virtues through submission and obedience to their masters, Gregory still insists that slavery is incompatible with the Christian life. The consequences of slavery stand in direct opposition to the redeeming work that God is accomplishing through Jesus Christ. It is no longer an issue of becoming charitable and compassionate Christians while remaining slave owners. Gregory’s rhetoric draws out the social implications of the Christian message: imago dei is realized in the lives of God’s people when they cease to be part of or to suffer from oppressive institutions of their society.
