I. The Imago Dei in the History of Theology: Case Examples
Scholarly attempts within theological history have focused on systematizing the various interpretations of the imago dei. Two primary thematic frameworks have been posited as overarching categories for most proposals: the structural and the functional perspectives.6 The variations in these perspectives stem from their conceptions of what constitutes being created in the image of God and the extent to which this image is diminished (or obliterated) following the Fall. The structural approach, also referred to as constitutional or substantive, is the predominant belief which suggests that the essence of the imago dei is inherent in a fundamental characteristic of the human nature and hence ubiquitous in every member of the human race and thus essential to defining humanity.7 The functional perspective seeks to explain the imago dei not according to what humans are but in consideration of what they do. Under the structural view, there are accounts wherein the imago dei is linked to some physical, psychological, or spiritual element in the human nature, such as the body (e.g., Augustine, Lombard, Aquinas, Calvin, and Turretin), the mind/soul (e.g., Gregory of Nyssa) and its powers (i.e., intellect, self-awareness, reason, agency of will), and morality (i.e., moral discernment and inherent righteousness).8 The functional perspective of the imago dei suggests a line of investigation centered on particular operational characteristics of humankind. This includes a strong focus on relationships, both with God and with other people, as seen in Barth’s work. The functional perspective further associates the imago dei with mankind’s royal standing and command over the world, as supported by John Chrysostom and the Socinians.9
Some preliminary caveats are necessary: (1) The theologians referenced here do not fully capture all the subtleties inherent to their historical eras. Nevertheless, they play a crucial role in the theological history of interpreting the doctrine of the imago dei. (2) Though a pattern is evident, agreement with structural or functional interpretations of the imago is not inherently linked to the theologian’s historical context.
The patristic period arose within the framework of early Jewish thought, concurrently with the ascendance of Gnosticism and the intellectual dominance of classical Greek philosophy. Early Christian theologians confronted several difficulties during Christianity’s initial doctrinal development, especially those related to the nature of God, like the doctrine of the Trinity and the metaphysical identity of the incarnated Son. In the theological writings of the second-century Church Father Irenaeus (c. 130–200), who served as the Bishop of Lyon for most of his life, we encounter the initial comprehensive exploration of the concept of imago dei.10 Following the creation account in Genesis, Irenaeus affirmed God created humanity to reflect his image and likeness. He presents the traditional patristic difference between “image” (eikon) and “likeness” (homoioosis), arguing that the “image” remained after the Fall, unlike the “likeness.”11 In the account provided by Irenaeus, the “image” of God is identified with psychological faculties of reason and will (freedom to choose), the metaphysical qualities that establish humanity. Properly speaking, however, there is a physical element attached to the “image,” which Irenaeus explains by noting that the true imago dei is Christ himself, and humans are thus made according to the image of Christ. Conversely, the human “likeness” to God is established by the gift of the Spirit, demonstrated by their original righteousness and the ability to obey God. Having lost the divine “likeness” (i.e., spirit), fallen man (the carnal, the one with an animal nature) is now an imperfect being whose restoration depends on Christ and the redemptive work of the Spirit.12
Medieval Western theology inherited the imago dei tradition through the teachings of Augustine (354–430), whose position became mainstream in Christianity. Augustine’s contribution lies in his emphasis on reading the image of the Trinity into the human soul—equating memory (memoria), intellect (intelligentia), and will (voluntas) to the imago dei—vis-à-vis how the human intellect operates in the soul in his existential quest for remembering, loving, and knowing God.13 It is in this context that the name of Thomas Aquinas (1225–1274) surges in our historical survey as the most representative scholastic thinker of the medieval period. As is the pattern in the Summa Theologica, Aquinas’s treatment of the imago dei begins with a seeming rejection, followed by a defense of the concept. Upon further elaboration of Augustine’s theology and integrating his own philosophical perspective based on Aristotle’s philosophy, Aquinas asserted that the imago dei is found in the creature’s intellect, thus indicating that only angels and humans are created in the image of God.14 Rationality, comprehended in relation to God and not as a faculty separate from him, is the ineffable characteristic of the imago dei within the creature. In Aquinas’s view, the image of God is present within the human person in a threefold manner: (1) universally, as a natural aptitude (aptitudinem naturaem) for knowing and loving God; (2) in the believer, as a disposition or habit (habitu) to knowing and loving God imperfectly; and (3) in the blessed (believers in glory), by knowing and loving God perfectly.15 What sets Aquinas apart is his distinction between the imago as an endowment/ability (aptitude) and the imago as an action (habit).16 In Aquinas’s anthropology, humanity in its original state required of a special gift of supernatural grace (supernaturalis donum gratiae) to keep itself in submission to God through his reason—the imago! The Fall caused humanity to lose its divine gift, but not the imago dei, resulting in uncontrolled passions, rebellion against God, and the need for the restoration of its former grace. In concrete, the characteristic medieval view of the imago dei, conceived under the nature-grace dialectic, taught that the “image” was man’s natural powers of intellect and will, whereas the “likeness” an extra gift of grace, namely, original righteousness.17 In this account, the powers of the intellect and will correspond to the natural attributes of God, and the supernatural gift of grace resembles the divine virtues of faith, hope, and love. The Fall took away the gift of grace (“likeness”) without destroying the natural faculties (“image”).
During the Reformation, John Calvin (1509–1564) emerged as a representative figure among the magisterial reformers in the theological history of the doctrine of the imago dei. The Institutes’ opening section features Calvin’s epistemological principle that addresses the relationship between the knowledge of God and the knowledge of ourselves. The correlation between anthropological and theological knowledge suggests a symbiotic interaction where contemplation of one leads to recognition of the other and vice versa.18 Calvin’s foundational premise underscores the necessity of theological anthropology being constructed upon God as the source of revelation and sanctification for the human intellect. According to Calvin, the imago dei is mirrored in two ways: (1) universally, in the work of creation and (2) particularly, in human beings.19 The imago dei is fully manifested in humanity in a broad sense, encompassing both physical and spiritual aspects, with its primary residence in the faculties of the human soul (mind/heart).20 Calvin, along with many of his contemporaries, rejects the conventional distinction between “image” and “likeness” based on exegetical grounds and also contests the idea that the imago is equivalent to man’s dominion over creation.21 In determining the nature of the imago, Calvin posits that it is the embodiment of human moral integrity. In his prelapsarian state, the ‘adam reflected the imago dei perfectly. Following the Fall, humankind lost its original righteousness yet kept the faculties (“natural gifts”) of reason and will, albeit profoundly impaired.22 Calvin thus concludes that the imago dei persists in fallen humanity, though only in vestigial form. In this view, the restoration of the image of God occurs through an act of divine grace by the agency of the Holy Spirit and the Word.23
The progression from the Reformation to the Protestant Orthodox era that preceded the Enlightenment and modernity was defined by analogous perspectives on the image of God: The imago is inherently connected to humanity and reflected in the entire composition of the human condition in one psychosomatic unit.24 Protestant theologians in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries emphasize humanity’s spiritual elements as the location where the imago dei is confined.25 Karl Barth (1886–1968) developed his theology of the imago dei in different stages, initially marked by the conviction that the imago had been totally lost as a result of the Fall.26 In the later stages of his theological development concerning the imago dei, Barth revised his view, maintaining that being human dictates being in the image of God: “He is the image of God in the fact that he is man.”27 Barth does not interpret the Fall as a definitive loss of the image of God, because a verifiable historical shift from innocence to corruption has not been established.28 Therefore, drawing upon Genesis 1:27 and 5:1, Barth defines the “image” and “likeness” of God in relational terms as “existence in confrontation” (i.e., association and union) between man and man, man and woman, and between man/woman and God.29 To put it concretely, the imago dei signifies the capability to exist in interaction with both fellow humans and God. The relational connection characterized by the “I”/“Thou” dynamic is from the moment of creation exclusive to man and woman as imago dei bearers, precisely because Father, Son, and Holy Spirit are the archetype of such relationality. It is important to note that as Barth emphatically rejects any point of contact between man and God, the imago cannot be in the intellect or reason. It comes as no surprise within Barth’s theological system that the concept of the image of God finds its expression primarily through an analogy of relation (analogia relationis) rather than through an analogy of being (analogia entis).30
II. Toward a Theological Account of the Imago Dei: Theological Interpretation
In a recently published monograph, Ryan Peterson asserts that “reflection on the imago dei is primarily a matter of biblical interpretation.”31 The validity of such a statement affords an opportunity for engagement with the biblical text through a hermeneutical method that seeks to read and interpret Scripture theologically and canonically (in the presence of and with the church) for the ultimate purpose of knowing and loving God.32
Genesis 1:26–27, the classical locus for discussions regarding the image of God, provides the theological exegetical framework for the ensuing doctrinal and constructive assertions within this paper. It is, however, pertinent to offer two clarifications: (1) Due to space constraints and in consideration of the scope of this essay, the following theological exegesis of Genesis 1:26–27 will be concise and limited to highlighting critical theological elements in the text that are directly relevant to the subsequent dogmatic presentation; and (2) while it is acknowledged that a comprehensive interpretative analysis of the biblical text concerning the doctrine of the image of God, whether through theological exegesis, historical-grammatical, historical-critical, or any other hermeneutical approach, should and must include other passages from the Old Testament and New Testament, our objective here is satisfied with the theological reading of the selected text only.
The primeval history comprised in Genesis 1–11 has been known for posing a highly complex explanatory challenge to its interpreters. The number of seminal themes for the Christian faith in these chapters of Scripture are many, including a theistic cosmogony, the origin of humanity, the source of evil, the Fall, the flood and the destruction of the world, just to name a few. Critical exegesis has focused on identifying the composition of the text (e.g., Moses, documentary hypothesis), source materials, and literary genre, alongside intricate debates about linguistic and grammatical analysis of Hebrew syntax, and investigations of historical context. Conversely, theological exegesis focuses on the Bible in its canonical form, and more significantly, it emphasizes the theological interpretation of the text within the communion of the saints, past and present.33
The prologue (1:1–2:3) in the book of Genesis is about God. More specifically, it is an account of how the Creator brought the universe into existence “in the beginning” and gave structure to the “formless and empty darkness.” The opening phrase “in the beginning” is relevant as it signals to the irreducibly primary instance in the sequence of events known as time history and also provides an explanation for it by introducing the existence of an uncreated, eternal, self-existent being who requires no beginning—God the Creator. Moreover, Genesis 1:1 denotes an ontological distinction between the causal agent of creation, “God,” and the object created, “the heavens and the earth.” God is the cause of creation but is not ontologically constituted by it, nor is creation an extension of God’s being. God is, therefore, introduced as the agent responsible for creation, not merely in the sense of providing architectural structure to matter already constituted but as the one who creates everything out of nothing (creatio ex nihilo) by virtue of his infinite power and the mediation of his commanding speech, his Word: “Then God said … ” The apparent existence of matter in a state of unproductive emptiness—“in the beginning”—have led some modern interpreters to conclude that creation begins in verse 3, and thus verse 1 cannot support the Christian doctrine of creatio ex nihilo.34 Such a conclusion is not necessarily the only possible explanation; God could have simply created matter (v. 1–2) and then shaped it according to his creative plan (v. 3ff.). It is a movement from the general to the particular.35 This suggests that God created “the heavens and the earth,” thereby bestowing upon the latter the qualities of fruitfulness and habitability.
The six-day creation narrative detailed through verses 3–25 reaches its climatic point with the creation of humanity, the ‘adam (ha-adam) of verses 26–27. That God announces the creation of the ‘adam by emphasizing his direct participation (“Then God said, ‘let us make … ’”) suggests a momentous event indicating a qualitative distinction between humanity’s being and that of the remaining of creation. The distinctive characteristic is disclosed immediately: Among all the creatures, only the ‘adam is made in the “image” and in the “likeness” of the Creator. The significance of the enigmatic plural form in the divine speech (“Let us make … ”) has been the focus of extensive investigation for centuries. Several interpretations have been proposed to identify the “us” to whom God is referring in Genesis 1:26. A mythical reading of the passage suggests that the “us” is a reference to other gods somehow missed by the editor of Genesis; others believe it is a reference to the earth (Cf. Gen. 2:7 man formed from the dust of the earth) or even angels; still some affirm, on grammatical grounds, that it is a plural of majesty or a plural of deliberation. Of further interest, a body of mostly ancient biblical scholars posits that the plural form in Genesis 1:26 suggests, if not a distinctly Trinitarian implication (e.g., John Calvin, Wolfgang Musculus), at least an understanding by the biblical author of the concept of plurality within unity.36 A thorough examination, using critical exegesis, has been conducted to assess the respective strengths and weaknesses inherent in each position, resulting in a pending stalemate. Nonetheless, a number of interpretations would be dismissed from a theological and canonical perspective due to their implications, which undermine the cohesive biblical account of God, leading to a deficiency in doctrinal consistency. For instance, Christian theology recognizes that the alleged gods from ancient mythical accounts lack in their nature the excellence to account for the existence of the universe in the way Genesis depicts it. Moreover, from a theological perspective, suggesting that God would deliberate with anything or anyone regarding the creation of the sole creature designed to reflect his image and likeness would be questionable. After all, the Bible nowhere states that humankind is created in the image and likeness of anything or anyone other than God himself. Thus, provided that it is not interpreted as a direct reference to the Triune nature of God, the “us” in Genesis 1:26 may be understood as a “plural of fullness,” symbolizing inherent plurality and outward unity.37 Following this, the substance of the divine pronouncement is disclosed: Humankind is created “in [God’s] our image, in [God’s] our likeness … ”
Following the earlier analysis of various interpretations of the imago dei, the subsequent discussion will be centered on a theological reading of the text, rather than expanding the history of its interpretation. As the text moves from the impersonal (“Let the … “) to the personal (“Let us make … ”), the creative sequence takes on significance. The narrative of Genesis 1 suggests the deliberate placement of the creation of the ‘adam as the final act of creation, signifying the glorious culmination of God’s creative work. As Lord of the created order, God delegates ruling authority to humankind, empowering them to govern over every other living creature. In this scheme, the gift of creation is followed by the attribute of dominion. The ‘adam is appointed “king of the lower creation” so that they can benefit from its goodness and excellencies and to honor God by resembling his righteous heavenly ruling. The Leyden theologians summarize this point well in Disputation 13 of the Synopsis Purioris (1620–1624): “Man is clearly the high point and goal of nature’s lower order, yet he also belongs to a higher order, he is the ‘sum’ of everything and the bond that links earthly and heavenly things.”38 It should be stressed that dominion is not synonymous with the imago dei but rather its consequence. Humanity’s ruling prerogative over the lower order is subsequent, according to the order in Scripture, to God’s announcement to create mankind in his image and likeness. The imago dei is further elaborated by disclosing the nature of the ‘adam in terms of bisexual plurality, thus the statement: “male and female he created them.” The foremost ethical ramification stems from the recognition of men and women’s equal value and dignity as created in God’s image bearers. Sexual differentiation is not explained as the result of something purely biological, much less accidental, subjective, or arbitrary. Instead, it originates from God’s original design, characterized by completeness and complementarity—a concept intrinsically linked to the gift of procreation and the divine mandate to “be fruitful and multiply” in verse 28.
III. Doctrinal Considerations
It is likely safe to argue that the doctrine of the imago dei makes up a core principle of theological anthropology, providing a framework for theological discussions regarding the nature of human existence. However, for anthropology to be theological, it must not stop at a biblical study of man (something good in itself), but it must extend its reflection to the relation between man as a creature and God as the Creator.
Previous observations indicate that most interpretations of the imago dei typically associate it with something originating at the moment of creation, either as an inherent aspect of humanity’s constitution (structural: physical, mental, or moral) or as a specific activity or role humans do (functional: dominion, relationality). Though these interpretations contribute meaningfully to our understanding of the imago dei, their inherent limitations prevent them from being fully satisfactory. Structural understandings are taken at the expense of functional proposals and vice versa. Classical Reformed theology offers an initial corrective by rejecting the bifurcation between the two. Take, for instance, Francis Turretin (1623–1687): “These [gifts bestowed in creation] were not only essential or only accidental, but both at the same time: internal as well as external, by which he was placed in such a degree of nature, perfection and authority that no visible creature was either more like or more closely allied to God.”39 An integral view of the image of God incorporates essential/constitutional and operational/performative components, enabling an explanation of the Fall’s destructive effects on humankind (i.e., the loss of original righteousness) while still acknowledging the remnants of the image in fallen individuals (reason and will). In addition, consider the following: If the imago dei consists, at a minimum, in resembling/mirroring God, a theological argument may be constructed to the effect that, as the divine works reveal the divine nature, humankind must, analogically (not identically!) mirror God in this respect. Hence, the imago should include both structural and functional elements relative to God.
To speak theologically about anthropology requires defining the proper locus of the study of humankind within the overall thematic structure of Christian doctrine. Traditionally, the doctrine of creation has been the place from which the doctrine of humanity originates and logically develops. However, contemporary anthropological perspectives have deviated from its initial positioning within the doctrine of creation to what some have termed a doctrine of “incarnate grace” and other “incarnational Christologies” and then to eschatology, culminating in the doctrine of the Trinity. The first move is prompted by an understanding of saving grace that is interpreted in its incarnated form in the person of Jesus. The second move is motivated by the pivotal role of the New Testament’s eschatology in giving testimony about Jesus as the one who inaugurates the kingdom of God ahead of time. Finally, the third action stems from an ontological understanding of personhood, as proposed by the Church Fathers, and considers the statement: One God, three persons. It remains, however, a matter worthy of reconsideration whether a theological doctrine of humanity is best understood as positioned within the doctrine of creation, and by extension articulated from a direct consideration of God in himself.
The doctrine of creation is critical for theology as it emphasizes a more foundational concept: God, as the proper object of theological inquiry. Creation teaches us about the essential constitution of created reality, but it also communicates knowledge related to the perfection of God’s existence as the one who brings everything into being ex nihilo. Concerning the former, creation speaks about the subordinate status of reality and thus of its ontological dependence with respect to its creator as creaturely beings subsist and are sustained only by divine fiat and power. As such, creation receives from God rather than determines for itself its meaning and purpose. Regarding the latter, creation suggests that God is of infinite power, self-existent, eternal, and that he acts according to the determinations of his will and intellect. Since the creation of humankind is not isolated from creation ex nihilo, it must be doctrinally susceptible to similar considerations. If so, the doctrine of the imago dei as theologically interpreted above points to the greatness of God as Creator, and to humankind as his created analogy. Speaking about the dignity of creatures, the late dogmatician John Webster noted: “Dogmatic and moral theological teaching about the dignity of creatures is an extension of teaching about God and the works of God.” I suggest then that whatever the nature of the imago dei is, it is an ectypal resemblance of an archetypal aspect stemming primarily from God in himself as revealed in the economy of grace, which has its starting point in the act creation.
IV. Conclusion
This essay aimed to provide a theological perspective on Christian anthropology through a detailed analysis of the doctrine of the imago dei. The historical study showed that interpreters have historically differed in their perspectives on humanity’s image of God, oscillating between structural and functional understandings. From Irenaeus’s delineation of image and likeness to Barth’s relational ontology, including Augustine’s trinitarian psychology, Thomas Aquinas’s synthesis of nature and grace, and Calvin’s stress on moral integrity, every theological era has provided worthwhile perspectives while simultaneously demonstrating specific weaknesses. The tendency to bifurcate structural from functional interpretations or to privilege one dimension at the expense of the other has resulted in incomplete accounts of this central anthropological doctrine.
In this investigation, the theological examination of Genesis 1:26–27 demonstrates that the imago dei is not limited to either inherent qualities or functional abilities. Rather, the biblical text presents humanity as both structurally constituted by God’s creative act and functionally oriented toward reflecting divine attributes through dominion, relationality, and moral agency. The Genesis narrative’s climactic presentation of human creation, the preceding divine planning, and the detailing of sexual differentiation collectively underscore the imago dei as a thorough concept that encapsulates all aspects of human existence, encompassing physical, psychological, moral, and relational dimensions. This holistic understanding corrects the imbalanced emphasis found in some premodern accounts that located the image exclusively in the soul or intellect, while also challenging contemporary approaches that have dislocated anthropology from its proper locus within the doctrine of creation.
The constructive proposal advanced here maintains that theological anthropology must be grounded in the doctrine of creation and, by extension, in God himself as the primary object of theological inquiry. To speak theologically about humanity requires more than biblical or phenomenological description of human nature; it necessitates constant reference to the Creator-creature distinction and recognition of humanity’s ontological dependence upon God. The imago dei, properly understood, signifies an ectypal resemblance to the archetypal perfections of God as revealed in the economy of grace beginning with creation ex nihilo. This understanding preserves both the dignity inherent in humanity’s created constitution and the dynamic vocation to mirror God’s character in action and relationship.
The methodological ramifications of this research stretch beyond the imago dei, impacting Christian anthropology at large. For anthropology to remain truly theological, it must counter current trends that ground human identity mainly in Christology, eschatology, or pneumatology, despite the value of these doctrines in understanding human redemption and destiny. Conversely, an appropriately structured theological anthropology commences with God, the Creator, and subsequently analyzes humanity in terms of its created being, its fallen status, and its gracious renewal. This particular method of analysis respects the scriptural progression starting with creation, then the Fall, and subsequently redemption while putting due importance on the fundamental aspect of mankind as creatures made in the image of God.
Thus, the doctrine of the imago dei constitutes a necessary framework for understanding human nature, dignity, and purpose within Christian theology. It confirms that humanity’s unique position within creation stems not from random evolution or social constructs but from divine purpose, manifested through God’s creative Word. It underscores universal human dignity, irrespective of ability, role, or ethical standing, and simultaneously challenges humanity to embody the Creator’s character in all aspects of life. As such, the imago dei remains not merely a theological curiosity or exegetical mystery but a dynamic doctrine with significant implications for how Christians understand themselves, relate to others, and worship the God in whose image they are wonderfully made.
