This chapter examines the ancient Greek patristic voices on human dignity, such as those of Theophilus of Antioch, Irenaeus of Lyon, Origen of Alexandria, Athanasius of Alexandria, Basil of Caesarea, Gregory of Nazianzus, Gregory of Nyssa, Nemesius of Emesa, and John Chrysostom. I show that, on the whole, the authors mentioned sought the foundation of human dignity both in the fact of God’s incarnation, understood as the second creation, and in the redemptive act of Christ. They believed that the human dignity resulting from redemption necessarily overshadows the dignity of creation. In arguing this, I discuss the metaphysical differences between the relation of resemblance (that any image of God enjoys), the relation of originating from (that any of God’s creatures has), and the unity of nature introduced by the incarnation. This chapter also reveals the Greek origins of the famous Latin call to recognize one’s own dignity and discusses Basil of Caesarea’s influences. Finally, I analyze the unique ancient Christian encomium of human nature, written by Nemesius of Emesa and praising this nature’s design as microcosm and the dignity that results from it.
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The earliest Christian approach to human dignity, the ancient Greek one, is not what a typical diachronic introduction to the history of human dignity would lead you to believe. Insofar as a standard introduction, in respect to Christian antiquity and the Middle Ages, focuses on the conception of human creation in the image and likeness of God, with an occasional reference to the human microcosmic nature, it remains silent about the fact that this earliest and hence archetypical approach places less emphasis on the iconic creation than it does on the incarnation and redemption as major justifications and sources of specifically human dignity. As I argue in this chapter, human creation in the image and likeness (an idea stemming from the Book of Genesis, common to both Christianity and Judaism and familiar to Near East ancient cultures, Egyptian and Mesopotamic, long before Christianity came into play) is a part of the early Christian approach to human axiology; an important part, perhaps the second most important part, but still—a part only.1 As we shall see, redemption, to which incarnation is a prelude, is accentuated in the Greek approach as a second creation, one which yields a stronger sense of human dignity than the first. This carries with it significant theoretical and cultural consequences, including some for the doctrine of iconicity, which I will point out in the conclusion. As we will also see, significant Latin writers will follow in the footsteps of the Greek Christian thinkers.2
We have pressing reasons to investigate ancient Greek Christian heritage—lumen orientale, as the later Western thinkers called it.3 Elements of the later history of dignity would remain incomprehensible had this connection between dignity and incarnation leading to redemption been overlooked. It is, for example, due to these factors that human dignity later became a permanent theme of Christmas celebrations, as will become clear in Chapter Four. The connection between dignity and the Christmas Feast is still present in Christian liturgy today, and the reason for this is to be found in the Greek Christian East. One of the earliest preserved Christian sermons spoken during Christmas, written by Gregory of Nazianzus, formulates such a connotation—and the idea was repeated throughout centuries to come, not only in Eastern, but also Western culture.
Had we overlooked the ancient Christian Greeks, we also could not adequately identify the sources of later famous formulas describing human dignity. As I will demonstrate, Greek thinkers are the original source of the idea of the appeal to recognize one’s own dignity, insofar as it was they who developed the premises put forward in the Gospel (e.g., 1 Pet 1:19; 1 Cor 6:20) into such appeals. As we will see, it is not Leo the Great who ought to be recognized as the origin of the most famous Christian call concerning dignity (“Recognize, o Christian, your dignity!”),4 but a Greek Cappadocian Father living two generations earlier than that Latin Pope. Typically, and correctly, this clarion call is attributed to Pope Leo I; he, however, uttered a version of this imperative that was first spoken by Basil of Caesarea. It is only when we understand why the Greeks connected human worth with the act of redemption that we can later explain why Leo cried out in the Latin West “Recognize, o Christian, your dignity!” or “Wake up, o human being, and realize the dignity of your nature!”5 during Christmas celebrations, putting emphasis on the incarnation, not just on human creation as an icon. The Greek influences are therefore fundamental inasmuch as they established an archetypical approach to human dignity that remained a reference point for later thinkers, as well as for the Catholic, Protestant and Orthodox Churches.
Finally, the first use of the anthropological–axiological category dignitas hominis formulated in the Latin West appears in a text highly influenced by a Greek thinker, Origen of Alexandria—so much so that, before Origen’s text was discovered in 2012, some scholars considered the Latin homily based on it to be a translation of his Greek speech.6 Despite the fact that this is not the case, Origen authored a reflection that, upon repeating and rethinking, prompted the Latin writer, Jerome of Stridon, to utter an appeal to observe human dignity (vide hominis dignitatem)7, hence formulating the anthropological category dignitas hominis for the first time in European history.8 An earlier Greek thinker, Theophilus of Antioch, was the first Christian to use the concept of human dignity,
As established in Chapter One, this investigation focuses on the terminology ascribing
This period is called the Golden Age, due to the fact that after the Edict of Milan issued by Constantine the Great in 313, Christianity became legal and tolerated by the Roman rulers, to eventually be proclaimed the official religion of the Roman Empire at the end of the fourth century. The first ecumenical councils could thus be organized, a free exchange of thought became possible, and patristic literature flourished. The earlier centuries, developing gradually from the apostolic spoken tradition into the phase where the Christian message was passed on via written forms, were the centuries of Christian persecution and martyrdom in the Roman Empire, peaking in its brutality in the third century. After the Edict of Milan, the theoretical implications of the Scriptures became dogmatized in magisterial documents during the first councils: in Nicaea in 325 (where one common creed was agreed upon), Constantinople in 381, Ephesus in 431 and Chalcedon in 451.9 After the Council of Chalcedon, the vibrant formative period of the Christian doctrine came to an end, despite the fact that many discussions were not yet concluded.10
Although the eastern Greek tradition in the Patristic Age includes many interesting authors, few can match the widespread influence of the writers of the Golden Age: Athanasius of Alexandria, Basil of Caesarea, and Gregory of Nazianzus. Athanasius and Basil are in fact broadly recognized in the tradition as “the Great,” while Gregory of Nazianzus is also known as “the Theologian” in the Orthodox tradition (the definite article “the” points precisely to his special character among all theologians). Basil’s younger brother, Gregory of Nyssa, completes the list of the most significant fourth-century Greek Fathers, even though no particular title accompanies him in the tradition. Among their many achievements—such as reforms of and contributions to the liturgy, pioneering coenobitic monastic life and composing rules for it, founding care centers for the sick, and intellectual efforts in apologetics, theology and philosophy—nothing seems as significant as their voices in the debates over the triune character of God and the nature of Christ, inclusive of the doctrine of God’s incarnation. Their contributions to the formulation of the Trinitarian and Christological dogmas secured their place at the very heart of the history of Christian doctrine for good.11
Significantly, these mentioned fourth-century masters chronologically predate the leading Latin authorities of the Golden Age, which partially explains many Greek influences in the synchronous Latin West. Athanasius of Alexandria was born around 295–300; Basil of Caesarea, around 329; his student friend, Gregory of Nazianzus, also around 329; and Gregory of Nyssa was born a little later, around 335. The most recognized fourth-century Latin writers, the so-called Four Great Latin Doctors, were born some decades after the Greeks: St. Ambrose, around 340; St. Jerome, around 347; St. Augustine, in 354; and Pope Gregory I, much later—around 540. Hilary of Poitiers, the only early-born leading Latin authority of the fourth century (his birth is dated towards the beginning the century), was baptized at the age of 30 and therefore in his Christian writings remained under the influence of Greeks who by then were already well-established: Athanasius the Great and the much earlier Origen.
Two generations after Athanasius, another leading Greek intellectual was born in the Greek East. John Chrysostom entered the stage a little too late to be involved in the dogmatic debates surrounding the first ecumenical council in Nice. Yet, as a bishop of Constantinople and reformer of liturgy, he nevertheless gained substantial authority that is still visible today in the Orthodox and Catholic Church, where he is recognized as one of the Three Great Hierarchs, and as one of the four Great Greek Doctors of the Church, respectively. Although chronologically closer to the four Latin Doctors, and younger than Athanasius by two generations, his example will be included in this Chapter in order to broaden our outlook on Alexandrian and Caesarean circles with an example of a Constantinopolitan figure. Given the roles these four thinkers played in the communities they led, and their widespread impact in the Roman Empire as well as many generations of Byzantine theologians, this will enable some general observations concerning the Greek East in the fourth century and beyond.12
The axiological ideas expressed during the Golden Age, which employ the listed dignity-related terminology, had their earlier inspirations. Among numerous anthropological conceptions formulated in previous centuries, these by Theophilus of Antioch (fl. second century), Irenaeus of Lyon (born around the year 140), and Origen of Alexandria (born around 185) remain directly relevant as the sources of the fourth-century anthropological-axiological reflections on human worth. Theophilus and Irenaeus used the dignity-relevant Greek concepts we have outlined in anthropological contexts, and the Alexandrian exegete was, as stated, directly involved in the coining of the European Latin phraseology of “human dignity” (dignitas hominis)—surprising as this might sound. This makes Origen’s ideas highly pertinent to any history of human dignity.
Finally, besides the leading figures of the Greek East of the Golden Age, there is one more Greek who should not be omitted in the history of the conceptualization of human dignity. It is a curious historical phenomenon that a unique Greek ode to human nature written toward the end of the fourth century made relatively little impact on the ongoing anthropological fourth- and fifth-century debates, yet substantially impacted the later Latin medieval masters. Although its somewhat mysterious author, Nemesius of Emesa, is yet another figure never mentioned in currently available English-language diachronic studies of the history of human dignity, his reflection comprised an early chapter in the history of the concept. Therefore, it must play an indispensable part in this investigation, as well.
All of these thinkers will be investigated in a chronological order, with the exception of the second- and third-century Theophilus’s, Irenaeus’s, and Origen’s ideas, the analysis of which forms a part of the research into the background of either Athanasius’s axiological reflection on human deification, which led him to formulate a rule regarding the origins of human dignity, or the Cappadocian School’s axiology, which developed a philosophical understanding of human worthiness,
2.1 Athanasius of Alexandria
Athanasius’s achievements are typically summarized as his discussion with Arianism (which resulted in numerous conflicts with the emperor and a total of seventeen years of exile during the forty-five years of his patriarchate in Alexandria)13 and the conceptualization of God’s incarnation. His most significant and widespread writing is De incarnatione Verbi, an early speech, the popularity of which is eclipsed only by a biography he wrote of Anthony the Great, a personal master and friend of his, and a Desert Father.14 Born to a pagan family, Athanasius converted following an encounter with Egyptian monks, whom he joined and by whom he remained highly influenced. Most of his life was spent in leading the Alexandrian Church, and at the age of thirty he became its bishop.15
Given the theological orientation of his writing around the doctrine of incarnation and its heterodox formulations, Athanasius’s works discuss anthropology less often than these of Basil, Gregory of Nyssa or Gregory of Nazianzus. Athanasius was, nevertheless, a master of the Cappadocian Fathers, who followed in his footsteps in defending the Trinitarian doctrine, and in other topics, including their approach to human worth. What is significant, from the point of view of the ancient Greek terminology pertaining to human dignity, is that Athanasius’s most widespread writings that include allusions to human dignity are dedicated to the mystery of God’s taking on human flesh in order to save humanity, which thus became a relevant context for the topic of human dignity. We will analyze these passages and offer a philosophical interpretation of their assumptions. What are these writings and their implications for human dignity?
2.1.1 The Deification Formula
Athanasius authored a widely-known bon mot from De incarnatione Verbi that makes use of a clever play on words:
Early Greek Fathers operated with similar phrases, most bearing some similarity to a line of St. Peter (“so that through them [scil. precious and magnificent promises] you may become partakers of the divine nature, having escaped from the corruption that is in the world because of sinful desire”)19 or to a phrase of St. Paul, which has an apparent axiological undertone (“though he was rich, yet for your sake he became poor, so that by his poverty you might become rich”).20 The logic of these passages inspired the so-called exchange formula, the earliest version of which is to be found in Irenaeus of Lyon.
2.1.1.1 Irenaeus of Lyon
The earliest version of the exchange formula occurs in Book Three of Irenaeus’s Adversus haereses, and significantly, it does not express the idea of “becoming divine.” It reads: “This is why the Word became a human being and He who is the Son of God became the Son of man, so that man, combined with the Word and partaking in the adoption, might become the son of God.”21 Irenaeus repeated the rule in a similar form in the same book of Adversus haereses, and also twice in Book Five, each time in a slightly different form.22 The last of these formulations introduces an axiological description of a human being, for it reads:
Therefore, this was truly manifested when the Word of God was made a human being, assimilating Himself to the human being and the human being to Himself, so that through the similitude to the Son, the human being becomes precious [pretiosus] to the Father.23
The Greek text of this passage, as presented in a late Byzantine florilegium Sacra Parallela, offers
2.1.1.2 Origen of Alexandria
After Irenaeus, Clement of Alexandria and Origen of Alexandria composed similar lines expressing the logic and purpose of incarnation.27 Apart from Origen’s preserved versions of the exchange formula, his writings provide an important discussion of human deification (
Discovered only in the year 2012, Origen’s Homiliae in psalmos—and not Contra Celsum—are the very last works of the Alexandrian exegete, written shortly before he was arrested and tortured during the Decian persecution in 251. The homilies comprise the largest preserved Greek text by Origen, whose works were mostly destroyed following the Origenist Crises. Significantly, the homilies on the Psalms offer the earliest account of the Christian publicly-preached exegetic speeches.32 The existence of Origen’s homilies was known about long before this, mentioned in ancient and medieval sources; nonetheless, the original text had been lost.33 It was only in 2012 that the Greek text, contained in a twelfth-century codex previously wrongly catalogued, was discovered during a thorough inventory of the Bavarian State Library in Munich.34 This exciting finding led to the publication of the transcribed text in a critical edition in 2015.35
The central anthropological idea of Origen’s homilies is precisely that of human deification, a conception described best in the homily on Psalm 81 (the last one in the collection).36 The opening line of psalm 81 discusses a gathering of gods (
According to the Alexandrian exegete, the human spirit is divine by nature due to its kinship (
As for the body, its becoming divine is achieved through it becoming a part of Christ’s body, one that enters the heavens. Unity of the soul and body with the incarnated God comprises the human telos, described by Origen as being not only “a god from God” (
This idea of teleological orientation of an icon resembles the biblical understanding of human nature as essentially iconic; that is, one taking on its character from some other, archetypical being. Even though the idea of human iconicity is not mentioned in the homily at all, it assumes—in Origen—a coherent anthropological model. As Origen writes regarding human iconicity, during their first creation (conditio prima in Rufinus’s translation),43 the human being was endowed with the dignity of an icon (dignitas imaginis),44 which is visible in their self-determination, yet it is only through proper actions that the human being can develop a perfection (perfectio) of that icon, i.e., a proper determination of the iconic nature.45 These actions are categorized as an imitation (imitatio)46 of the divine archetype, leading to the completion of human iconicity and dignity.47
However, in the homily on Psalm 81, in order to illustrate the dynamic character of human nature self-determining itself, Origen reaches not for the idea of an icon but for a physical and theatrical Greek category,
What is of direct relevance to the history of human dignity is the implicit yet evident axiological undertone of this doctrine of becoming divine. As stated, Origen’s homilies were directly involved in the making of the Latin category of human dignity, dignitas hominis, for they were closely read by Jerome when he was working on his speeches on the psalms delivered in Bethlehem between 389 and 410. Specifically, when (around the year 397) the Latin monk was preparing his homily on Psalm 81, in which he would coin the groundbreaking anthropological-axiological category, he was following Origen’s just-recapitulated homily on Psalm 81. The Greek text remains, therefore, highly pertinent to the history of the European category of human dignity, as is Origen’s model of iconicity, linguistically connected by Rufinus of Aquileia to dignitas imaginis.
2.1.1.3 Athanasius of Alexandria
It was Athanasius who shortened the exchange formula into a pithy, symmetrical form. This rule was later integrated into Roman liturgy and theology in various forms: the phrase “God became a human being, so that we could be children of God” serves during some Church celebrations as an introduction to the Lord’s Prayer during Mass. Athanasius’s formula is also quoted by the International Theological Commission, which discusses its Hellenistic sources and proper interpretation,50 and by the contemporary version of the Catechism of the Catholic Church.51 Let us dive into the logic of the golden rule as formulated by Athanasius and its implications for dignity.
Athanasius’s deification formula, revealing the logic of redemption in the most concise manner, introduces some idea of human value, for to “become God” (
In contrast to Irenaeus, Athanasius did not discuss a human becoming “a child of God”, but rather “becoming God”,
Nevertheless, such deification itself implies the axiological perfection of the human being. If God became a man by taking on human nature, human beings are united with God by sharing one and the same nature, the human nature. This establishes a form of unity between the two that is unrivalled by any other event in humanity’s history. The act of creating a human being in the image of God, as acknowledged by Athanasius, introduced two kinds of relationships between God and His creature.55 The first is a relationship of originating from God, and the second is the relationship of resemblance between an archetype and its image. In contrast, the unity of one nature introduced by incarnation establishes intimate unity between God and human beings, who are not in some sort of originating or resembling relationship, but are of one nature.
Let us explain the difference between human dignity resulting from creation and dignity resulting from incarnation in philosophical terms. In ontological terms, the dignity stemming from creation means possessing a relational property.56 Such a property involves the relationship of one being to another, and remains the characteristic of a given being regardless of the continuance or discontinuance of that relationship. Had the human being been made in God’s image, they would remain God’s icon, and a being genealogically stemming from God, even if the act of creation is finished, and even if—purely hypothetically—God ceased to be. A human being remains an icon stemming from God, and this is rooted in their nature. The property of iconicity is relational insofar as it is not reliant on the human being as such, but requires a relationship to another being during its constitution. Creation, therefore, constitutes two relationships between the Creator and the creature, who each remain of their own respective natures: the first is the genealogical relationship of originating in God, the stemming of one from another; the second is the relationship of resemblance, or one being an image of the other, which serves as the archetype. As stated, after creation in the image and likeness of God, both elements of the relationship of resemblance remain of their own natures. As in the case of a self-portrait on canvas (Athanasius’s comparison),57 there is a genealogical relationship of stemming from the portrayed, and a resembling relationship in the portrait being similar to the portrayed, but the portrait is essentially different to the portrayed: it is a painting on canvas, not a living person. Similarly, God’s creature and God are not of the same kind, even though they are linked by the two relationships of one stemming from the another and even though one resembles the other.
In contrast, the sharing of nature achieved by the incarnation is ontologically much more than genealogically stemming from a particular being or resembling a being. It introduces a unity of being of the same nature between the two entities. This means that the two have one common essence and belong to one common kind. Not only does one originate from the other or resemble the other (like a model and a canvas with his or her portrait), but both have an identical nature (like one model and another or one canvas and another). They are the same “what” (human nature), instead of one “what” (human nature) being similar to, or originating from, an entirely different “what” (divine nature). Incarnation, a focal point of Athanasius’s theological and philosophical attention, therefore has significant ontological consequences with regard to human unity with God, and thus to human value or dignity. Let us investigate the axiological implications of this conception.
2.1.2 The Dignitarian Formula
Curiously for the topic of human dignity, Athanasius explained the axiological undertone of his soteriological rule in an earlier passage of his De incarnatione Verbi, proposing a beautiful and seemingly paradoxical dignitarian version of his famous line, which we shall call “the dignitarian formula”. As we will examine its language, let us quote it in Greek: “
The original Greek text uses dignitarian terminology (the noun
The logic contained in the dignitarian formula is nevertheless even more thought-provoking than the most commonly known bon mot, for it operates with a paradox. In almost composing an oxymoron, Athanasius proclaims the establishing of dignity through the act of disrespecting dignity. Why is it so? We find little commentary in Athanasius’s text itself. Yet it is fitting, many Church Fathers argued, that because the human being sinned through lack of humility and lack of obedience in paradise, they are rescued by the Son of God perfectly practicing humility and obedience to the Father, to the point of crucifixion.59 Athanasius, too, observed a kind of symmetry between the nature of human sin and the redemptive act.60 This is a neat theological argument, but what philosophical assumptions lay behind the paradox?
Apparently, an entirely different being (Son of God) can alter another being’s dignity (human, in this case) through the specific act of allowing Himself be treated as if they did not have dignity. For what else is
The trick of redemption lies not in what oppressors did, or in any obligations they violated, however, but in what their victim did and in the obligations the Savior honored.61 The Crucified developed His human nature to be perfectly similar to God by acting out God’s will fully despite the most trying circumstances, those of humiliation. By preserving His human dignity even during Crucifixion, the Son of God became an exemplary human being, full of dignity, in which others can partake to re-establish their own dignity. The dishonor inflicted on the Son of God was, in a way, circumstantial. It defined the most trying test the Savior had to undergo when performing His calling. That this test involved dishonoring is itself meaningful, suggesting perhaps that disrespect to dignity is the worst kind of test for a human being. What is essential, however, is that the Crucified passed the test, and preserved the dignity of the Son and servant of God. By partaking in this achievement, all other humans are re-dignified, for they partake in the dignity established and preserved by the Savior. There is thus no real paradox within the statement that humans are dignified by God’s being deprived of dignity. Athanasius was, nevertheless, clever enough to exploit a seeming tension between dishonoring and achieving honor in a catchy wordplay.
The dignitarian formula is based on the topic of redemption, seeking the source of human dignity in it. Ultimately, it points to God’s love for the human creature as expressed by the famous term
The more popular form of the golden rule of soteriology, the deification formula, establishes an implicit link between human dignity (the human being becoming God) and incarnation (God becoming a human being), which the dignitarian formula makes explicit. The justification of dignity is therefore identified by Athanasius both in incarnation and the act of redemption, which are focal points of his writings. On one hand, this understanding of human dignity relies on a kind of unity between God and a human being, established through incarnation. On the other, human dignity reaches its ultimate form in the redeemed human being who is said “to be god”. Redemption, to which incarnation is a prelude, is, however, an advanced chapter in the longer history of humanity: how it came to be, what it was, how it lost its dignity and how it regained it.63
2.1.3 Human Creation in the Image of God
This history takes us back to two passages in the Book of Genesis, chapter 1, verses 26 and 27, describing human creation in God’s image and likeness. The interpretation of these two lines is a rich and persistent theme in the writings of Jewish and Christian writers in antiquity, the Middle Ages, and beyond. The two verses describing the making of a human being introduce the significant anthropological concept of an image of God (in short, “an icon”), for verse 26 reads: “Let us make humankind in our image, according to our likeness” and verse 27 adds: “So God created humankind in his image, in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them.”64
At the beginning of De incarnatione Verbi, Athanasius explains that the description of incarnation, the focal point of his speech, must start with human creation in God’s image and likeness, since the incarnation is a direct consequence of original sin. In the first sin, humanity lost the glory of being an image of the divine archetype. In De incarnatione, being an image and similarity to God are associated with human reason which is capable of knowing God. Redemption, initiated by the incarnation, is God’s attempt to repaint the exact image on the same canvas, which is the metaphor of human nature. In this metaphor, to be a portrait is a fact of human nature, shaped by the act of creation into an icon,
Apart from mentioning living in the grace (
The remarks concerning human elevation and standing above angels have obvious axiological implications, yet in tracing the history of human dignity we ought to observe that the explicit dignitarian terminology is used by Athanasius only in the contexts of incarnation and redemption. The dignity associated with these events is incorporated into human nature by virtue of unity with God, and—as such—is common to all people and identical in each human icon. This is arguably indisputable, since redemption pertains to all of humanity. Even in his approach to human iconicity, redemption plays a crucial role of retrieving the lost resemblance.
Athanasius’s focus on incarnation leading to redemption was adopted in later Greek theology, due to the topics of debate in the Church at the time. Although the Greek Father’s most widespread works do not develop the topic of human dignity extensively, the Alexandrian bishop contributed significant passages formulated in the contexts of incarnation and redemption. His remarks stand as evidence that the early Christian writers perceived incarnation and redemption as relevant to any discussion of the human nature, including human dignity.
The remaining parts of this Chapter will demonstrate that observation of the link between dignity and redemption applies also to later Cappadocian Fathers. Athanasius developed a conception of human dignity as not once, but twice received: once during creation, and the second time during redemption. It is the latter which yields a stronger sense of dignity, a common dignity equating humans with gods, a categorization that was not equaled by anything else in the created world.
Athanasius remains the author of the concise and striking phrase expressing this Greek idea: “He was undignified, so that we could have dignity”. The axiological message of his phrase could well serve as a motto for the fourth century Greek approach to human dignity.
2.2 Basil the Great
Basil of Caesarea, the most widely known Cappadocian Father, was born in a family of many saints and philosophers: Basil’s grandmother, Macrina the Elder; his parents, Basil the Senior, an orator and lawyer, and his wife, Basil’s mother, Emmelia; Basil’s sister, Macrina the Younger, named after her grandmother; Basil’s two brothers, Gregory of Nyssa and Peter of Sebaste; and Basil himself, are all declared saints.69 Few families in history can compete with this one when it comes to proclaimed sanctity, and so they were already legendary during Basil’s life: a significant theme in the funeral speech by Gregory of Nazianzus on Basil’s death in 379 was the family’s exceptional virtue.70 These many saints only include one Doctor of the Church (in the Catholic tradition), however, and this is Basil the Younger, most commonly known as Basil the Great, or Basil of Caesarea.71
Born in 329, most likely at Caesarea (the alternative hypothesis considers his father’s homeland, Pontus, his place of birth), where he later became a bishop, Basil studied in Caesarea, Constantinople and finally, before returning to Caesarea, in Athens, where he met Gregory of Nazianzus, his life-long friend.72 Given such an education, he is not likely to have known any Latin, and his writings, including the references he made to other authors, verify this hypothesis—they are uniformly Greek.73 This information will prove significant in tracing the history of the clarion call to “recognize one’s dignity,” since Basil is the earliest to have formulated it, long before Leo the Great did so during the Christmas celebrations in 440. If Basil repeated it after some other author, it would have been someone Greek. Some arguments can be presented, nevertheless, to defend the hypothesis that it was originally his.
Following completion of his education, Basil served as a bishop of Caesarea. During this time, he contributed greatly to the reforms of liturgy;74 defended the Trinitarian standpoint in doctrinal debates, in particular concerning the divine nature of the Holy Spirit;75 distinguished himself in the care for sick and poor by establishing a center of what we would call first hospices, named Basileias;76 and founded coenobitic monasteries, for which he prepared rules.77 These rules later became an inspiration for none other than Benedict of Nursia, founder of the Benedictines, the first monastic order in the Latin West with fixed rules approved by the Pope.78 Due to his charitable and social work, in particular the creation of Basileias, some specialists call Basil “one of the defenders of human dignity.”79 As we shall see, Basil’s social and theological ideas—in particular, his principle of the incommensurability of human worth—encouraged his younger brother, Gregory, to express fierce criticism of slavery.
Basil’s use of the words
2.2.1 Dignity of an Icon
Let us start the reconstruction with a justification of human dignity that has already been introduced. Basil counts among many who picked up the notion of the icon of God and made use of it, with significant dignitarian implications; unlike Athanasius, however, he employed explicit dignitarian terminology in this context.
One of his most popular homilies is a sermon on the Old Testament words Be attentive to yourself! (Deut 4:9).80 In this sermon, the Cappadocian Father inquires about “the self” of which one is supposed to be attentive.81 Who I am, he writes, is different from what is mine. Thus, the bishop of Caesarea announces the distinction between the soul and the body, inspired by the Platonic dialogue Alcibiades I.82
What I am, he explains, is a soul or a mind created in the image of God, and what is merely mine is my body, my perceptions, my virtues and all capacities, as well as the surrounding conditions.83 It is only the soul (
Basil observes the distinction between the terms “image of God” (
Basil uses this terminological distinction to introduce a twofold understanding of the human resemblance to God, consisting of two basic elements: a static element of nature and a varying dynamic element of actions. The soul constitutes, for Basil, the unchanging aspect of dignity ingrained in human nature, whereas human actions (Basil writes: living “a good life”) constitute the dynamic aspect that shapes an icon into either greater similarity to the archetype, or dissimilarity from it.87 The human soul is shaped by the hands of God (this being an evident reference to Psalm 118) in His image, yet it can be less or more similar to the Maker, depending on the individual’s choices.
Significantly, Basil does not distinguish between men and women in his understanding of iconicity, giving an exegetic argument against such a reading: “For, the virtue of man and woman is the same, since creation is equally honored (
The distinction Basil does draw in his model of imago Dei is, firstly, that between Jesus and all other human beings, and secondly, that between the iconicity of the soul and the greater or lesser similitude of the icons, depending on the particular icon’s choices.
The dynamics of the process of becoming more or less similar to God is clarified by Basil’s theory of the soul, adopted from classical Greek philosophy. One part of the soul, according to him, is rational and capable of ruling the other, the merely affective, consisting of feelings and desires. Those who use their rational part of the soul wisely, in order to master their passions, live according to the image of God; those who succumb to passions and abandon reason lose the similarity of the image to the archetype, but that process can be reversed: “the soul, falling for the passions of the body loses its beauty and again, cleaned of the ugliness of its malice through virtue, returns to the similarity to the Maker”.89
In another homily, Basil argues: “When the soul is not enslaved by the pride of the flesh, but assumes a greatness (
Basil expressed the idea of divinity being human purpose in yet another way, paraphrasing the exchange formula that he knew from Irenaeus, Clement, Origen, and Athanasius. Basil’s version, forwarded to us by Gregory of Nazianzus, reads: “I am God’s creature called to be God (
The opposite possibility involves realizing the dissimilarity of the archetype. This idea leads Basil to quote a verse from Psalm 49 which gave rise to many descriptions of the “bestialization” of men: “Man that is in honor (
At this point, let us summarize Basil’s stance regarding iconicity. His understanding of an icon is as partially static and partially dynamic. The irreversible fact of being created in the image of God pertains to the soul by virtue of creation. Human choices, however, can make this naturally dignified image dissimilar to its archetype. The characterization of iconicity is, similarly to Athanasius’s approach, common among men and women and identical in each human being, for it pertains to human nature as such. The notion of an icon, moreover, is normative, since the dignity of creation obliges the dignity-bearer to conform to certain behaviors, and in particular to be aware of the dignity bestowed upon humanity. As we know from the Book of Genesis, humans did not exhibit the required behavior and fell into a trap of evil: “Then, because he estranged himself from the word of God, having become a brute beast, the enemy carried him away.”98 Basil explains the history of how human beings were freed from the entrapment of evil, in order to reveal an infinite human dignity, superseding the initial dignity resulting from creation.
2.2.2 Dignity of the Ransomed Captive
The argumentation developed by Basil in his commentary to Psalm 48 offers two significant themes relevant to the topic of dignity. Firstly, the commentary to Psalm 48 is relevant because it includes explicit claims concerning the dignity of human creation in the image and likeness of God, as overcome by the greater dignity resulting from redemption. Secondly, it reveals the logic behind redemption leading to regaining human dignity. This argument is concluded with an appeal to know one’s dignity that made history insofar as it was repeated for centuries to come, most often in the Latinized version composed by Pope Leo the Great. That Leo’s version stems from Basil’s is an often overlooked point that I will therefore raise here and return to in Chapter Four, which is dedicated to Leo.99 Finally, as an introductory remark, it is worth noting that the authenticity of this particular commentary has never been questioned, unlike a few others.100
Although written in the typical flowing style of a sermon, the commentary to Psalm 48 consists of a number of premises that all share the typical common-sense character of an elenctic Socratesian premise. Basil was, after all, educated in Greek philosophy and rhetoric. These premises lead to the aforementioned appeal to recognize one’s dignity. They are developed in an apologetic manner insofar as, firstly, the author applies logical reasoning to explain the claims derivative of Revelation, and secondly, he illuminates the logic of the theological claim by applying it to everyday human reality. This makes the argument apologetic in the sense of providing a rational explanation and defense of faith. I will outline the premises separately and formalize them in symbolic formulas, in order to reveal the philosophical, argumentative content of the sermon and its line of reasoning, specifically in regard to human axiology.
The argument is ingrained in the military metaphor of negotiations over the exchange of captives, illustrating the human being trapped by the Devil in a prison from which God is trying to free His creature. Basil’s premises are the following:101
Every captive is in need of a ransom for which they could be freed.
The value of the ransom (symbolized as “Vr”) must be greater than the value of the captive (symbolized as “Vc”), if it is to be an argument in favor of the captive being freed. Thus, Vr>Vc.
Hidden premise: The value of the captive is the only thing the captive has at their disposal, and it is of no use in negotiations over the captive’s freedom, as the captive is imprisoned and thus in the possession of the Devil together with their value.
If the value of the ransom must be higher than the value of the captive (premise no. 2), no brother of the captive can ransom the captive, for the brother’s value (symbolized as “Vb”) is equal to the captive’s. Formally put, Vb=Vc. Thus, the value of the brother is not high enough to persuade the Devil to free the captive.
All human beings have sinned, which is why they are all captives.
The captive’s value is great, for it is the value of an icon of God. As such, it is greater in value than the whole world (symbolized as Vc>Vw).
God’s value (symbolized as “Vg”) is infinite, and as such, it surpasses the value of all captives taken together: Vg>Vc
Conclusion 1: Only God can ransom the captive by offering Himself in exchange for the captive.
Conclusion 2: Whoever can ransom the captive is more than just a human being.
Conclusion 3: After being ransomed, the captive acquires the value which has been paid for them. The price paid elevates their original finite value (Vc) to the infinite level of the ransom paid for them. Vc=Vg.
At this point, the argument justifies one frequently repeated line of the Gospel:
Following this line of thought, Basil concludes with a clarion call that, literally translated, reads103 :
If you do not remember your first origin, from the price (
τιμή ) exchanged for you, grasp the notion of your worth (ἀξίωμα ). See what was given for you and recognize (γνῶθι ) your value (ἀξία ). You were bought (ἠγοράσθης fromἀγοράζω —to buy on agora) with the highly dignified (πολυτίμητον ) blood of Christ, do not become a slave of sin. Take notice (σύνες ) of your dignity (τιμή ), and so you are not made like the mindless (οἱ ἀνόητοι ) beasts.104
The Latin version, referenced alongside the Greek in Patrologia Graeca after numerous sixteenth century manuscripts, translates
If you do not remember your first origin, because of the price (pretium) paid for you, accept some idea (notio) of your dignity (dignitas); look at that which was given in exchange for you and realize your own worth (dignitas). You were purchased with the most precious (pretiosissimus) blood of Christ; do not become a slave of sin. Understand (intellige) your preeminence (praestantia), and do not become similar to the beasts of burden (iumenta).
I have listed these accounts in order to make room for the comparison between the original shape of the appeal, including in its Latin translation, to later passages. Since our aim is to speculate about the exact origins of the most famous call to know one’s dignity, that of Leo the Great, we must know the earlier Greek passage first so as to later compare it with that of Leo. Let us analyze the source material offered.
The Latin version follows the Greek closely, but alters the semantics of the passage in some nuances. The Greek
Latin obscures the wordplay between the
The presented line of argumentation, including the conclusion drawn in the clarion call, reveals significant assumptions concerning human dignity. Given the extensive influence of this sermon, it is crucial for us to spell them out.
The metaphor Basil appeals to has a commercial character to it, with a trace of the wartime practices known to the Romans. Such exchange practices were not uncommon in Imperium Romanum, which commonly practiced slavery.108 In a different speech, Basil himself thematized the practice of selling children in order for the parents to pay their debts. Appealing to children’s nobility (
Furthermore, Basil’s line of argumentation leads to the conclusion that the value of the captive after the ransoming is necessarily higher than the value of the captive before the transaction, and in fact becomes infinite. This explains why the incipit of the call refers to “remembering the first origin”. The first origin is the creation that brings forth some kind of human dignity in every human being: “Human being (
Basil’s call to know one’s dignity, localized in a work of relatively lesser importance, seems to have been transmitted to the Latin West. In particular, Leo the Great cried out this and similar calls a number of times during Christmas celebrations, and earlier, Ambrose of Milan and Jerome of Stridon (both proficient in Greek) did so as well. This provides some grounds to argue that the Latin writers received lumen orientale from the Cappadocian regarding the call to know human dignity. The comparative analyses of all these calls are contained in Chapter Four, but here we can summarize the content of the call formulated by Basil.
Basil’s call comprises three significant elements, which we shall identify in many later Latin axiological appeals of this kind:
Firstly, a cognitive imperative to realize one’s dignity:
Λάβε τοῦ ἀξιώματος ἔννοιαν —Accipe dignitatis tuae notionem!—Accept the notion of your worth!Γνῶθι σεαυτοῦ τὴν ἀξίαν !—Agnosce dignitatem tuam!—Know your dignity!Σύνες σεαυτοῦ τῆς τιμῆς —Intellige tuam praestantiam!—Realize your preeminence!)
Secondly, the idea of the highest price called “the blood of Christ”:
πολυτίμητον αἷμα —pretiosissimus sanguis—the most precious blood.Thirdly, a strong appeal to refrain from entering again into the captivity of sin:
μὴ γίγνου δοῦλος τῆς ἁμαρτίας —peccati ne fias servus!—do not become a servant of sin!
As I will argue, two of these three elements reappear in Ambrose of Milan’s Hexaemeron, and one in Jerome’s homilies on the Psalms. Later, an imperative of the same style and the same conceptual context (inclusive of all three elements just listed) appears during Christmas celebrations led by Leo the Great in 440 and onwards. Similar cognitive imperatives can be found in numerous medieval texts listed in Chapter Four. Finally, as of today, it is a common liturgical practice to quote the call containing these three elements during Christmas Eve celebrations in the Catholic Church.
This is not all. The ideas behind this call made history in yet another way: the concept of human dignity as resulting from the “wondrous creation” but more importantly from “yet more wondrous redemption” was introduced into a prayer that was spoken first during Christmas celebrations in the Catholic Church, and that from medieval times until the reforms of Vaticanum Secundum could be spoken during offertory of every Mass. Today, the prayer remains part of the Christmas liturgy.113 This prayer in all its original forms is discussed in Chapter Four, which is dedicated to Leo the Great, its most likely author. The idea contained in it—of dignity twice received—stems, nonetheless, from Basil.
Here, let us observe that this prayer’s presence in liturgy means that the altar has become one of the most persistent broadcasters of the concept of human dignity in European culture. Few other factors, let alone written texts—such as Pico della Mirandola’s Oratio de hominis dignitate—can rival the impact of the words spoken since antiquity at the altars, which gathered men and women, rich and poor, educated and uneducated alike, people of all social standings. As we approach various texts discussing human dignity, we will observe that none—statistically speaking—could have been distributed as broadly in the Latin West as the ideas promoted through Roman liturgy.
Basil’s conceptualization of human dignity is not entirely forgotten. Two contemporary popes, John Paul II114 and Benedict XVI, selected Basil’s appeal to ideas of human dignity as a vital theme in the Cappadocian’s teachings.115 John Paul II identified redemption as a key factor in Basil’s conception: “Human dignity is contained in the mystery of God and the mystery of the Cross—such is the teaching of Basil the Great.”116 Few connect Basil’s call with Leo’s, however.
Basil’s philosophical approach to human dignity, which makes sense of redemption by using an analogy to the practice of prisoner exchange during a war, was also exploited in the twentieth century by C.S. Lewis in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. One of Lewis’s protagonists, young Edmund, is saved from the White Witch by being ransomed by the legendary lion king of Narnia, Aslan, who offered himself instead.117 This kind of reasoning makes use of the mercantile metaphor of redemption, which is understood as settling the score with evil by exchanging a human captive for God.
It is, therefore, justified to estimate Basil’s role in the history of dignity as inventive in regard to the philosophical argument pertaining to incommensurability of dignity. If there is any inspiration behind the exact argument contained in Basil’s appeal, it could not be Latin, for—as we pointed out—Basil never mastered it. The Greek philosophical texts, for example the opening passages of Epictetus’s Diatribai, stress the need to know the value of reason and one’s choices, as well as to live in accordance with one’s role (
Finally, let us briefly return to the appeal to children’s nobility that Basil formulated when criticizing the practice of selling children into slavery.119 Basil expressed such a view more than once.120 His objection to treating children as mere things that have a fixed, finite price is surprisingly contemporary and goes against the fundamental principles of the ancient Roman mindset and law.121 This passage, illustrating the ancient practice of exchanging people as goods on markets (
If, then, we try to assess Basil’s place in the landscape of the European history of dignity, we must situate him at the very forefront of this landscape, as one of the main protagonists and a central figure—one, nevertheless, remaining in the shadows—as an overlooked source of the thought that took a leading role in the speeches of the influential pope, Leo I, and one whose authorship of the call to recognize one’s dignity remains, ever so humbly, concealed in the shadows of history.
2.3 Gregory of Nyssa
Basil’s younger brother, Gregory of Nyssa, followed in his brother’s footsteps in many ways: education, faith, engagement in the theological discussions over the nature of the Trinity, social engagements, even sanctity.124 In particular, having observed that Basil’s commentary on the six days of creation were never completed and lacked a discussion of Day Six, he wrote a treatise supplementing his brother’s Hexaemeron, called
2.3.1 The Great and Most Precious Human Being
The opening chapters of De opificio hominis introduce the topic of human axiology as inseparable from anthropology, since the human being is made “in God’s image and likeness,” and that by itself introduces the topic of human greatness alongside the discussion of human ontology. Gregory begins his account of the creation of a human being by asking why the human being, which is a great and honored thing (
The four arguments are: an argument of a ruler, an argument of an explorer, an argument of a researcher, and an argument from divine council. The first of these points out that one does not invite guests before the feast is ready and the home is decorated, and thus God finished the creation of the world before placing the final and most honored guest in it, the human creature. This creature was to be an explorer; thus, they could only be placed in the completed world ready to be investigated once it was finalized. Analogically, the creature that was to be a ruler of the world could only be placed in it once the world was there to be ruled.129 Finally, the treatise proclaims that the nature of the human being was more precious (
The second significant strand accentuating human preciousness in Gregory’s work is human iconicity. As specialists observe, Gregory’s approach to the subject provides a number of criteria of human iconicity in this and other writings, often intertwining both natural and supernatural gifts.132 Although the descriptions differ in their details, they are not inconsistent with one another, for they all rely on the premise that the icon reflects the goodness of the Creator and they result from the particular context and the work’s aim.133 Since God’s goodness can never be fully known, neither can the icon’s.134 Gregory, therefore, lists various goods present in the icon, depending on the context which he tackles. To provide some examples: in the early chapters of De opificio hominis, Gregory lists human independence (
De opificio hominis also contains a noteworthy discussion of the most appropriate terminology for conveying the message of human greatness. Having described his understanding of imago Dei, Gregory addresses a competing way of favoring (
Ever since classical Greek antiquity, and arguably Democritus, the concept of the microcosm has been employed in various anthropological contexts, by philosophers and medical practitioners, to describe the human condition of remaining on the border of various worlds, typically spiritual and material, mortal and immortal, animal and divine, intelligible and sensible, and so on.144 This concept has not infrequently been ingrained in the dignitarian context, for the microcosmic characterization was considered unique. It situated the human being at the center of the world, or at its completion, and thus as the crown of creation, binding together all that is otherwise unmixed. Among the Cappadocian Fathers, Gregory developed the concept, as did another fourth-century Greek, Nemesius of Emesa.145 Christian authors often ingrained their analysis of human microcosmic nature in the context of a human creature being made on the last day of God’s work, thus as a final creation. Ancient doctors, such as Hippocrates and Galen, typically used the notion to express a more physiological idea of the human being as comprising a unity of the four elements: water, earth, fire, and air.
Gregory, however, mocks the ancient idea of a microcosm, which he takes to be a feature shared by the human being with a mouse and a mosquito. According to him, all terms which compare the human creature to the world are “small and unworthy of the greatness of human nature” (
This interesting critical standpoint demonstrates that Gregory pondered the available terminology for describing humans’ axiological status. His discussion is limited to two concepts: the image of God and the microcosm, which he called the image of the world. By implication, the notion of human dignity is not one to be considered as a candidate to describe human greatness. It is not clear, in fact, what Gregory’s name would be for “human dignity.” He used a range of terminologies to refer to humans’ axiological status, calling the human being “great” (
2.3.2 Slavery as Sin against Freedom
Gregory’s criticism of slavery comprises an implication of his understanding of human iconicity, specifically the soul, as independent and self-determined (
Following Basil’s argumentation from a homily on Psalm 48, Gregory ridicules the idea of there being any value equivalent to the worth of the human being. If one cannot pay the price for the whole world, he argues, how can one pay the price (
Gregory’s remarks rest on the premise worked out earlier by Basil: human pricelessness whose value was to be matched only by God’s divine person. Even though Basil’s preserved texts offer a more laconic criticism of the practice of the public selling and enslaving of people,158 they do spell out the presumptions upon which Gregory’s conclusion rests. Following again in his older brother’s footsteps, Gregory elucidates the conceptual link between paying a ransom for the human beings and their inherent value which supersedes the whole world. Gregory’s vocabulary is not consistent enough to operate with a fixed category of human dignity; nevertheless, he certainly grasped the idea of humans’ intrinsic and equal value, inclusive of its implications to the social phenomenon of slavery. We shall encounter ancient theoreticians who used the category of human dignity much more systematically—such as Augustine of Hippo—yet remained blind to the important link between human dignity and slavery. The formulation of the mercantile understanding of human value (which is described in terms of a price to be paid, as indicated by Psalm 48 and developed by Basil) facilitated the observation of the fundamental injustice of estimating human worth in finite terms. This is why Gregory mocks the ancient practice by asking how many obols one can pay for the icon of God.
This achievement of the Cappadocian brothers constitutes a milestone in the development of European culture, which in ages to come would categorize slavery as a crime against humanity. The two brothers led the path towards such principles by describing human value in terms of mercantile language, of a price to be paid, and an infinite one at that. Ridiculing the mere notion of people being purchased by other, equal people of the same human nature, Gregory opened the later European forma mentis to the humanist presumption of equal, universal, intrinsic, and priceless human dignity.
2.4 Gregory of Nazianzus
Basil’s friend from Athens, Gregory of Nazianzus—another son of fourth-century Cappadocia, known in the East as “the Theologian” (a linguistic practice that still exists in the Orthodox Church)—has also made his own contributions to the history of human dignity. Firstly, who was he?
Having studied in Caesarea and Constantinople before reaching a scientific center in Athens, Gregory developed skills in classical Greek theology, philosophy and rhetoric, which he put to use in his poetic theological and philosophical speeches. Apart from contributing alongside Basil and Athanasius to Trinitarian debates, and thus the history of doctrine, Gregory wrote a text that remains significant for the history of liturgy.159 One of his orations, fashioned in a beautiful, paradoxical style, happens to be one of the first preserved Christmas sermons spoken in the Church (preceded only by a sermon by St. Optatus, Bishop of Milevis). The celebration of Christmas developed as a practice of a separate liturgy synchronously in the West (where it was first celebrated on 25 December) and in the East (where it was first celebrated on 6 January) around fifty years before Gregory gave his speech.160
Gregory’s long and metaphorical speeches thematize human dignity in three significant contexts: firstly, that of an icon of God, which, as I will argue, is ingrained in and transformed by the context of redemption and final judgement; secondly, although often in conjunction with another context, that of a microcosm and, thirdly, but also in conjunction with the other two, that of Christmas. I will present them in the listed order, ultimately drawing conclusions regarding Gregory’s approach.
2.4.1 Dignity of the Icon during the Final Judgement
In Gregory’s writings, human iconicity is a concept ingrained in the larger context of various anthropological distinctions. When referring to human creation, Gregory continued the ancient tradition of calling the human being a microcosm, i.e., a being which combines within itself two opposing elements: the spiritual and the material. According to Gregory, only the spiritual dimension is a carrier of human iconicity of God. In order to explain the entire structure of the microcosm, consisting of both, let us start with the first building block, imago Dei.
Surprisingly, yet characteristically for the Christian message, the theme of the image of God and the dignity connected to it is most often developed by Gregory of Nazianzus not in the context of their creation, but in their being in need of preservation, particularly for the Last Judgement. In oratio 16, the Cappadocian thinker draws the listener’s attention to the Last Judgement, during which the “dignity of an image of God” (
In oratio 33, spoken in his own defense in response to Arians, Gregory applies the understanding of the dignity of an icon as a subject of the Last Judgement to his own situation.164 The speech discusses Gregory’s own responsibility before God for the state of his individual dignity and the iconicity entrusted to him. Since everyone is given noble dignity which can be preserved through virtuous life and faithfulness to the archetype of the icon, the same is true for Gregory.165 Just like everyone else, he will answer to God for the state of the icon entrusted to him and will be judged on this basis. This theme introduces unanticipated connotations between dignity and the final judgement of the human soul. It is also, manifestly, one possible stance in the debate over eternal judgment, and its subject. For Gregory, it is the value of human resemblance to God that is subjected to God’s judgement. This remark is critical, insofar as it reveals how crucial human iconicity and dignity are, yet not merely as relevant to human creation. Imago Dei is seen as dynamic, and Gregory focuses on the outcome of the dynamic process of shaping oneself according to the image of God. It can be argued, therefore, that where dignity is concerned, although the notion of an icon is used, what is crucial for Gregory is how the dignity of the icon is reshaped, repainted and preserved.
“The Theologian” also uses the notion of an icon in more concrete, earthly contexts. In his well-known speech De pauperum amore, Gregory argues that the image of God which is present in the humble and pious poor, who are rejected and humiliated, is greater than in those who refrain from helping them.166 Whoever blemishes their iconicity by sin and takes on an opposing image, the form of the snake (
It is interesting that Gregory mentions not only the fluctuating state of dignity alterable by actions, but also the fact that dignity of iconicity will reach a fixed state of eternal sameness after the final judgement. The dignity of an icon will be everlasting in the Kingdom of God, as Gregory writes.168 This adds new significance to what happens before death. It implies that iconicity can change during human life, in the so-called status viae, the pilgrim’s state. The factor that alters dignity is moral or immoral human choice. Gregory also names a criterion for reversing the negative alterations: Christian baptism, and thus cooperation with grace.169 Although alterable, dignity is designed to reach a static, lasting form in the end, after death, in eternal life. This is a good example of how fixed the early Christians were on the eternal perspective, and specifically, how they perceived every event through its consequences for the eschatological state. It also serves to illustrate that the notion of an image was perceived by them through the need of its restoration and preservation, not merely creation.
The emphasis on the development of an icon is visible in Gregory’s approach to contemplating the imago Dei present in a human being. It is exalting or glorifying to be an icon of God, yet Gregory is more concerned with the effects of such an observation. If one focuses solely on this “spark of divinity,” as the Stoics would put it, one might fall into pride or vanity. The Cappadocian Father thus advises that people always remember that being an icon is merely one element of the human structure, complemented with a body that is characterized by fragility and temporality. This binding of the two opposing elements, one exalting and one humbling, introduces the microcosmic context that we will now turn to.
2.4.2 Dignity of the Microcosm Binding the Earthly and the Divine
Employing a poetic style, the Cappadocian Father introduces repetitive descriptions of various opposing characteristics, all leading up to describing humans as a mixture or a hybrid—a microcosm.
Gregory of Nazianzus proposed his own understanding of microcosm, and of opposing elements united in a microcosm, one of them being—as previously mentioned—an image of God ingrained in the soul opposed by the body made out of clay. These two opposing features are accompanied by a rich list of others, such as earthly and celestial, or belonging to light and belonging to darkness. In each case, only one characteristic is glorifying, the other demeaning. As discussed in the context of imago Dei, Gregory advised people to be aware of both, for remembering the negative characteristic prevents pride. Let us quote one sample of Gregory’s poetic style of writing that employs the notion of human dignity, and that of microcosm:
[…] we, who are the portion of God and have our source in heaven above, should always look to Him as we wrestle and fight against the flesh and that the weakness to which we are harnessed serves to impress upon us our true worth (
ἀξία ), least we disdain our Creator out of pride and in inflated sense of our importance? That we may know that we are at once most exalted and most humbled, earthly and celestial, ephemeral and immortal, heirs of light and fire—or of darkness—depending on which we turn? Such is our hybrid nature (κρᾶμα —literally, a mixture)170, which, in my view at least, takes a form so that whenever we feel exalted because of our likeness to God’s image, we may be brought down because of our clay.171
This remark (which has the power to sober one of false vanity because the human mixture is ultimately a combination of the image and the clay) is a good example of the Greek approach to human value as opposing any notion of literally understood deification. The human being is exalted by being made in God’s image, and Gregory will, therefore, insist on human exceptional value; yet the human being is at the same time merely a material creature: earthly, of flesh, ephemeral, connected to darkness. Gregory’s insistence on maintaining the right balance between contemplating human divinity and earthliness are good examples of the Greek Father contradicting any literal understanding of the exchange formula we spoke of before.
Gregory of Nazianzus repeated Athanasius’s line concerning God’s incarnation and human deification, implementing a tantum—quantum (“inasmuch as …”) structure: “He became a man, God on earth, […] so that I could be God inasmuch as He is a man.”172 Gregory did so following Basil, whose version of the exchange formula is passed on to us by Gregory.173 This version of the formula must be read in the context of Gregory’s remarks on human hybrid nature, exalted and humbled at the same time, for the deification formula was not used by the Cappadocians in a literal sense.
The previously introduced theme of a microcosm is developed further in the most famous of Gregory’s speeches, oratio 38, spoken on the occasion of Theophany, to which we will now turn.
2.4.3 Dignity Manifested during Christmas
Let us start with a few words concerning the history of the speech itself. On December 25th, 380, in Constantinople, Gregory of Nazianzus delivered the first of a trilogy of speeches dedicated to the birth of Christ, to God’s manifestation, and to Jesus’ baptism, respectively. Some liturgists question the exact dating of the speeches, suggesting they may instead have been all been given in January 381 during the preparatory service that concluded what is today celebrated as Epiphany, the Three Kings visiting the new-born Messiah, on the 6th of January.174
Other historians have suggested that each speech was delivered on one of these holidays, each corresponding to the topic of a particular oration.175 There were good arguments behind this hypothesis. The most common title of the sermon occurring in the earliest manuscripts is In Theophania, and in fewer manuscript sources, although still many, the speech is titled In nativitate Domini. In antiquity, the terms “epiphany” (meaning manifestation or appearance) and “theophany” (meaning God’s manifestation or appearance) have been used in respect of the birth of Christ (God’s arrival in this world), Christ’s baptism (the appearance of the Savior among the wider public) and the visit of the Kings (the presentation of the infant God to the first visitors). The expression was applied to Christmas day as early as the fourth century.
Regardless of the ambiguity concerning its specific date of delivery, however, the speech addresses the topic of Christ’s birth, and is one of the first to do so in preserved Christian writings. The topic is discussed as part of the history of humanity’s fall and redemption. Gregory’s speech analyzes the birth of the Savior as one episode in the history of humanity. What is this history?
It is a story of God creating a human being in His image and likeness; thus, free but not fully mature—as in Irenaeus’s view.176 Since Adam and Eve were immature, they were not capable of knowing good and evil, which is why they were forbidden to eat from the Tree of Knowledge. Because they were free, they could obey or disobey the law. The Snake cleverly used the human weakness of immaturity and tempted the women to disobey God’s laws, which led to human mortality. Gregory presents death as a mercy, for it is the limit of human sinning, but not the limit of human life. Nevertheless, thus wounded in their development, humans require healing, and God sends it in the form of His Son taking on human nature. This gives Gregory the opportunity to discuss the nature of humankind.177
A human being’s creation is described as a merging of various opposing realities: visible and invisible, matter and an image of God, body and the rational soul, some second world (
As in the speech quoted earlier, Gregory discusses human iconicity and microcosmic nature in conjunction. The human being is a mixture, and thus a microcosm, consisting of the image and the matter, the soul and the body. Such merging is taken on by the Son of God as His own nature so that it can be cleansed and renewed in Him. This results in yet another set of paradoxes present in the incarnated God.
“Oh what a new mixture (
And this is human nature incorporated by God, according to the Greek philosopher. Gregory poetically draws the image of mixing the opposing elements, describing human nature with increasing complexity as a mixture and God’s incarnation as a greater mixture. Describing human microcosmic nature as a combination of the spiritual and material leads to a spelling out of the oxymoron of the infinite God becoming finite in a creature, a theme still popular in Christmas carols describing God’s birth.182 Gregory presents the symmetric logic of redemption: the image of God is saved through God becoming an image of flesh. Similarly to Athanasius and Basil, Gregory’s speech is therefore apologetic, insofar as it reveals some rational standing behind incarnation and redemption. Given the education that Basil and Gregory received in Athens, it is not surprising that they both enrich theology through a properly philosophical argument, revealing a logic behind the theological claims. Gregory, moreover, eloquent in his arguments, stands out as the poet among the Cappadocians.
2.4.4 Dignity in Gregory’s Approach
As shown, the bishop of Nazianzus discussed human dignity primarily in the context of imago Dei (
He is on one hand original in his doctrine (emphasizing human iconicity as a subject of final judgement, describing the mixing of elements in a human being, concentrated in a paradoxical human God), and on the other, compatible with other Greek Fathers (identifying an image of God in the rational soul and making sense of the logic of redemption). The bishop of Nazianzus is perplexed by both human creation in the image of God and God’s creation in the image of a human being, one serving as a foundation for human dignity, the other as its salvation, since the image of God is saved through God becoming an image of flesh. Dignity is clearly seen as dynamic, for there is a story about its loss and reacquisition. Gregory discusses dignity as common to all, bestowed on all of humanity in the act of creation, a point best revealed in the context of the love of the poor, and specifically lepers. Through creation, God’s image is present in them, just as in all other people, and due to their virtue—specifically piety—even more fully than in those who do not keep to the obligations that iconicity demands of them.183 The ethical aspect of dignity is thus accentuated in Gregory’s approach, yet the fundamental ontological dimension of dignity shaped during creation is universally shared by all.
Finally, in the context of human value, Gregory of Nazianzus uses not only the notion of an image of God or the topic of human nature incarnated by God, but also the ancient theme of a microcosm. For Gregory, human microcosmic nature highlights both human dignity and indignity. As we have seen, in De opificio hominis Gregory of Nyssa stressed that the notion of microcosm is not dignifying at all, for it points to human corporality only.184 It is possible that the youngest of the Cappadocians, Gregory of Nyssa, was inspired by the writings of his brother’s friend, Gregory of Nazianzus, who, however, was not as radical, and understood the concept of microcosm to point out both human indignity and dignity.
2.5 Theophilus of Antioch’s Expression in the Cappadocian School
Having summarized the Cappadocian’s approach to human dignity, it is good to say a few words about the inspirations of their phraseology, specifically one designating the
In Ad Autolycum, Theophilus states that the making of the human being cannot be comprehended by a human creature, yet can be known to them from the divine scripture,
The reasoning in which the idea of human worth is mentioned is simple: its premise is the biblical description of human creation, according to Genesis 1:26 and 1:27, and its conclusion is the axiological status of a human creature, called worthiness,
2.6 Nemesius of Emesa
In the last decade of the fourth century, a unique ode to human dignity was written in the Greek-speaking eastern Christian world. Its author was Nemesius, bishop of Emesa, even though medieval masters such as Albert the Great and Thomas Aquinas often wrongly identified Gregory of Nyssa as the author of the work in question. This confusion resulted from a copyist’s mistake when the work was translated into Latin for the first time in the eleventh century, possibly because of the similarity between the names Nyssenus and Nemesius.193 Little is known about the author himself, despite the fact that he was a convert to Christianity and wrote for a varied audience, not just Christians, implementing the philosophical method. Nemesius’s only preserved work, De natura hominis, opens with what the author himself claims could well be called
Whereas Gregory of Nyssa tackled human axiology alongside a description of human nature, as the two were inseparable from one another, Nemesius begins with praise of the human being. This ode serves as a gateway to the descriptive anthropological investigation. Many ideas of the investigation are taken from past thinkers, and the treatise is often described as syncretic. Indeed, it references views as varied as those of Plato, Aristotle, Posidonius, Hippocrates, Philo of Alexandria, Galen, Origen, Plotinus, Apollinarius, and Eunomius—to name only the most prominent figures. Thanks to this syncretic character, we can today reconstruct some of the heterodox ideas, such as those of Apollinarius or Eunomius.
There are three interconnected strands that lead Nemesius in Book One to the conclusion that he is in fact writing in praise of human nature. One of them relates to human microcosm, one to anthropocentric finalism, and one to human distinctiveness from other beings—a standpoint philosophers today call “the personalist distinction.” Let us investigate them one by one.
2.6.1 Physical Majesty (εὐπρέπεια ) of the Microcosm
The notion of microcosm (
Nemesius’s alternative way of explicating humans’ microcosmic character is by stating that the human being remains at the crossroads of not four but two kinds of beings: the things which can be experienced through our senses, and the intelligible objects.200 Additionally, the twofold distinction is explicated by the fourth-century writer in terms of remaining at the crossroads of the beings which have reason and the non-reasonable ones (in yet another formulation: the rational and the sensible worlds), or of the immortal and mortal beings.201 Whether the more detailed fourfold or the simplified twofold distinction between various beings is applied, the human being in Nemesius’s treatise is one to remain on the border of these various categories, hence being a small world (
Nemesius goes on to discuss human kinship with various kinds of beings, and his discussion of the human body leads up to naming the dignity, majesty, or comeliness (
2.6.2 Uniquely Human Prerogatives
The second theme justifying humans’ privileged position results from a sharp personalist distinction, which is a categorical difference between the human and any other kind of being. What distinguishes the human being from the rest of the world is twofold, according to Nemesius. Firstly, there is the already discussed point of humans’ central positioning in the created world. Secondly, Nemesius observes that to feel remorse and thus receive forgiveness is a uniquely human capacity, for neither animals nor angels can regret anything. Additionally, another distinctively human prerogative is that the human body, one of special dignity, will become immortal. No other piece of matter can enjoy such privilege, and all other immortal beings are non-material. This distinction of the human body results from the fact that it is connected to the human soul, which possesses special excellence and attributes: reason and virtue. The practice of science and mastering various arts is yet another specifically human capacity that Nemesius points out. This, he claims, distinguishes people even from creatures like nymphs or demons, who—according to some—possess knowledge. Their knowledge does not result from learning, as in the human case, but from nature. Humans are uniquely characterized by their capacity to learn: they actualize knowledge and skill through a process. All of these add up to a demonstration of how uniquely gifted the human being is.203
2.6.3 Anthropocentric Finalism as a Justification of Human Dignity (εὐγένεια )
The third dignifying theme of the opening book of Nemesius’s treatise is a view already discussed: anthropocentric finalism. Nemesius recalls the Jewish opinion, known to him from Philo of Alexandria and describing how the entire world is made for the sake of the human being only. Firstly, the bishop of Emesa stresses that all non-rational beings exist for the sake of something else, and only rational beings exist for their own sake. The question can therefore be posed: who was the world created for? It could not have been created for the sake of angels, as they need no matter; thus, it follows, it was made to provide human beings with food, shelter, and all of nature to be ruled by them. Nemesius, nonetheless, warns his readers against mistreating animals, for whoever does so behaves neither like the Lord nor like a human being. This animal-friendly stance was not unusual among the Church Fathers, who conceived of the natural world as wounded by humans’ original sin. Nemesius’s treatise is a good example of an early humanist approach to nature.204
To accentuate human predominance, Nemesius stresses that the arrival of the human being in the world was prepared for by God, who made intermediate steps by gradually developing beings of increasing similarity to the human being, while preserving unique prerogatives for the last creature.205 In the face of quite a number of glorifying factors of human nature, Nemesius asks rhetorically: what can one do but wonder (
Nemesius ends the first book of his treatise with a somewhat auto-ironic remark that, having said all that he did, he could well be accused of composing an encomium of human nature (
Nemesius’s praise harmoniously proceeds from observing humans’ unique microcosmic role, to highlighting specifically human prerogatives and human distinction, to anthropocentric finalism. As such, the ancient masterpiece remains well-structured and deliberated to a point unrivaled by any other— whether Greek, Oriental, or Latin—anthropological-axiological description of human nature written in late antiquity.
2.7 John Chrysostom
Finally, we turn to John Chrysostom, born two generations after Athanasius and Basil, around the year 347. Although younger than Athanasius by two generations, and younger than Basil and Gregory by almost one, he is included among the Four Great Greek Doctors of the Church as well as being one of the three Holy Hierarchs of the Orthodox Church. He was never nicknamed “the Great,” however. Instead, the adjective “Chrysostom”—literally, “Golden-mouthed”—was coined for him, for he was praised and known for his eloquence and outstanding style of speaking. This style manifested itself in the anaphora constituting a part of the liturgy named after Chrysostom, which—together with the Liturgy of St. Basil and the Divine Office of the Presanctified Gifts—came into regular use in the Orthodox Church, where it is still used today.210 The role he played in reforming liturgy secured his authority in the Byzantine culture for good.211
In our collection of Greek Christian voices on human dignity, Chrysostom’s style is an example of cultural continuity with both classical Greek philosophy, at least in one respect, and with the already-discussed patristic account of human axiology.
2.7.1 Conceptual and Terminological Continuity with the Greek Fathers
Chrysostom’s orations, including his famous De statuis, refer to the axiological aspect of the human being as
In particular, Chrysostom contrasts the merit of the dignity of the soul (visible, for example, in its virtue) with the illusionary dignity of the earthly city, which extends to the unvirtuous and the morally deprived. He thus appeals to the people of Antioch to concentrate on the real values, such as virtue, and not to grieve over the illusionary worth of the earthly metropolis. A reasonable person should rather grieve over the damage done to the dignity of human soul (
Let us observe three points regarding this appeal. First, the distinction between earthly glory and the eternal merit identified in the soul demonstrates the classification of moral perfection as an unchanging value worthy of protection and development. Second, the distinction pertains primarily to the moral dimension of human dignity, not to universal human worth. Third, the remark continues the practice of appealing to the people to know and develop their dignity.
2.7.2 Reason as the Foundation of Human Dignity
Let us move on to Chrysostom’s continuity with classical Greek philosophy. All the thinkers of the Golden Age we have discussed were well-educated in classical Greek philosophy and rhetoric, and Chrysostom is no different. Let us point out one classical idea typical of ancient philosophy which Chrysostom discussed in an explicit axiological context.
Plato and Aristotle defined human beings primarily based on their reason, rather than by any other trait and, sadly, both excluded slaves from its possession. Plato’s remarks are less systematic, yet at times clear when it comes to classifying slaves as lacking understanding.214 Aristotle’s account of natural slavery—a state, according to Aristotle, that differentiates natural slaves from human beings in much the same way as humans are differentiated from beasts and the soul is differentiated from the body—excludes slaves from being individuals in possession of reason.215 Plato’s and Aristotle’s celebration of reason influenced later Hellenistic and Roman philosophers. Cleanthes, for example, a Greek Stoic philosopher and poet cited by Paul the Apostle in the Areopagus sermon (Acts 17:28), posited that human beings resemble Zeus due to their reasoning ability.216 The ideas of
In such reason-oriented approaches, therefore, humans’ special axiological status most often coincided either with presumptions of social hierarchy in which slaves were considered “speaking tools” (res vocalis or instrumentum vocale) of other “reasonable” people, an elitist approach to virtue and reason, which led to the exclusion of some humans from its possession, or a cosmological model in which human value was not ultimate with regard to rest of cosmos. Finally, as can be argued, the human-divine relation was not considered reciprocal.224
Jewish philosophy, which operated with anthropocentric finalism and a notion of an icon, resulted in a more coherent anthropological model of universal human value, one in which all humans were conceptualized on the fundamental level as inherently valuable, and some, additionally, as axiologically developed in other ways.
Most educated Christians followed in classical Greco-Roman footsteps in their appreciation of reason or virtue, though—as we have seen—they most often viewed it through a Scriptural lens: as belonging to the universal human nature created by God, iconic of Him, incarnated by Him or redeemed by Him. This overall nature included reason, for its universality was taken for granted based on the Biblical premises, specifically the description of human iconic creation in the Book of Genesis. John Chrysostom, to whom we now turn, represents an excellent example of a Greek Father who named human reason as the dignifying criterion of humankind and complemented it with a universal identification of human dignity (
Firstly, in one of his orations, Chrysostom drew a distinction between acquired and natural goods: goods which one might lose, and the loss of which one therefore fears, and the goods which cannot be lost at all and of which the loss does not need to be feared. In order to provide an example of the latter, he wrote:
The remark from the oration on the Letter to the Philippians is interesting for a number of reasons. Firstly, it shows continuity with classical Greek thought. Secondly, it explicitly formulates the idea of the inherent nature of human dignity; that is, the position that dignity belongs to nature and is inalienable, i.e., not transferrable to anyone else. This is explicated expressis verbis by Chrysostom in drawing the distinction between an acquired good that might be lost on one hand, and these, which are natural and cannot, on the other. Such phrasing constitutes a significant anticipation of the twentieth-century characterization of dignity as inalienable (German: unantastbar), which was introduced—after the atrocities of the World War II—into the first article of the West German Basic Law, later the German constitution.226 This characterization was designed to secure the idea of dignity as intrinsic to human nature, and thus inalienable, not by the law of the Third German Reich, nor by any other external power.
These two points—the displayed continuity with classical Greek philosophy and the explication of the idea of inalienability of human dignity—are the two most significant accounts of human dignity in Chrysostom’s speech.
2.8 Conclusions Concerning the Greek East
We began by saying that the Greek East is a blank spot in the heretofore written diachronic histories of human dignity. The vibrant figures just discussed fill this spot not only with manifold conceptions, but also an archetypical approach to dignity that yielded a quantity of later inspirations, Byzantine and Latin. How can we synthetically summarize this earliest Greek Christian approach?
2.8.1 The Context in which Human Dignity Occurs
Firstly, it is an approach in which dignity, as a concept, is an element in a grand narration explaining human nature and its genesis. This narration describes the history of human dignity’s creation, blemishing and reacquisition. By belonging to such a fundamental explanatory anthropological system as the Christian paradigm, the notion of dignity found a safe place at the very heart of the Roman empire, and thus of European civilization, increasingly sharing in the Christian faith during the centuries of slowly-developing medieval Christendom.
The Golden Age Greek Fathers exemplify that which is originally Christian— as contrasted with Judaism and pagan Greek philosophies—in their approach to dignity. As we saw in Athanasius’s and Basil’s works, the context of incarnation and the resulting redemption is one of the key settings in which human dignity functions. This led to creating a connection between the concept of dignity and Christmas celebrations. Additionally, the concepts of capax Dei, microcosm, and deification constitute other perspectives through which dignity was considered.
By accentuating the dignity of a human being as resulting from redemption and the incarnation leading up to it, the eastern Christian writers pioneered a novel approach. At the same time, they displayed continuity with ancient Judaism—in particular, the Book of Genesis and the Book of Psalms—by delivering an exegetic analysis of human creation in God’s image and likeness. Ancient Jewish philosophy also provided them with the idea of anthropocentric finalism. Secondly, they upheld a number of classical and Hellenistic Greek philosophical ideas, often demonstrating conceptual continuity with them, yet interpreting them in the light of their own interests, as is the case with deification. Characteristically, the imago Dei was seen by the Greek Fathers through the lens of its redemption, preservation and salvation. Therefore, even though they implement the notion of an image, their description and justification of dignity pertains less to the earliest chapter of human history describing creation, and more to the advanced episode of human and divine union in one nature taken on by a human-God.
As we saw, the Greek Fathers picked up the notion of imago Dei and identified the human image not in the whole of a human being, but in the human soul only. They also differentiated human iconicity from God-likeness, understood as a developing feature of the icon. Thus, they contributed to a two-fold understanding of human dignity as both static (as an image ingrained in the soul) and dynamic and developing (depending on the actions the icon performs and the grace he or she receives). In their approaches, these thinkers adjusted the notion of the image to the doctrine of redemption, transforming the context in which the idea is used.
Nemesius of Emesa and Gregory of Nazianzus additionally introduced dignity into the context of the ancient notion of microcosm. Gregory’s microcosmic analysis formulated a paradigmatic description of the oxymorons of human creation and God’s incarnation, which was picked up on by later Christian speakers when conceptualizing Christmas; e.g., still in antiquity, Leo the Great, and in the Middle Ages, Bernard of Clairvaux. Gregory’s understanding of human microcosm also represents a typical early Christian attempt at developing every idea in the light of its eschatological consequences for the Last Judgement. For this reason, the Cappadocian Father insisted on perceiving of the dignity of a human icon as connected to human insignificance, which results from embodiment. We can find similar approaches in medieval writers (Catherine of Siena, for example) for whom human dignity is also always connected to indignity. Gregory’s discussion of human iconicity remains in conjunction with the doctrine of God’s incarnation understood as God taking on imago hominis.
Nemesius’s idea of microcosm has a univocally positive meaning, accentuating the completeness and harmony that the human microcosm brings to the world. Human dignity is praised by him in an encomium in which microcosm is one way to spell out the idea of humans’ special, incomparable axiological status. This was done in contrast to Gregory of Nyssa’s idea that humans’ microcosmic nature cannot function as the foundation of dignity, for it is limited to the humbling and demeaning aspect of the human condition: embodiment. Gregory is, nonetheless, an example of integrating the idea of human dignity into a discussion of the social phenomenon of slavery—a significant theoretical achievement that eventually became central to European culture.
Before we move on to the discussion of the Latin West, it is worth mentioning that the writings of the last of the Greek Fathers, John of Damascus—working much later than the Golden Age—demonstrate the effects of the axiological framework worked out by the Greek thinkers we have discussed. In his Expositio fidei, Damascene repeated the already worked out patristic approach to human axiology, including the use of the notion of the worth of the human soul (
2.8.2 The Philosophical Arguments and Principles Concerning Human Dignity
Within those manifold contexts, some properly philosophical arguments and principles were worked out, and even though they are not all historically directly linked to the corresponding contemporary ideas, they are often expressed in them. I shall name three such lasting principles pertaining to the value we today call human dignity.
First, Athanasius’s paradoxical reasoning concerning the reacquisition of human dignity in consequence of God’s deprivation of it stands out as an original explanation of why humans have dignity, which they injured in the first place, and a meaningful bon mot still prevalent in contemporary theological tradition. The reasoning behind the dignitarian formula secures the non-autonomous, transcendental, and therefore ultimately unchanging aspect of human dignity: its root basis is God’s love and kindness towards the human being.
Second, Basil’s apologetic attempt at revealing the rational standing behind the exchange performed by God in order to rescue the human captive explains the difference in human worth before and after the transaction. By situating the topic of human worth within the metaphoric context of exchanging prisoners of war, it formulates the argument for the understanding of the incommensurability of human dignity, a feature today debated in value theories.
Third, John Chrysostom completes this colorful landscape of ancient Greek theoreticians of human dignity with the example of explicating the contemporarily prevalent idea of the inherence of human dignity. In addition, his discussion of the criterion of reason hallmarks the theoretical achievement of naming the fundamental feature of the international legal discourse, that of dignity’s inalienability.
2.8.3 The Justification of Dignity
Given the just-described contexts and the arguments contained in them, the Greek justification of dignity lies both in the act of redemption, preceded by incarnation, and in the act of creation. The philosophical analyses of the difference between the relationship of one being originating from another on one hand, and the unity introduced between the two beings sharing the same nature on the other, reveals why the Greek Fathers saw the dignity resulting from incarnation as superseding the dignity resulting from creation. Athanasius and Basil understood the human being to be dignified by the act of creation as imago Dei, but assumed the need for a greater human value after the human union with God was established in one nature. Secondly, Basil showed the need for a greater human value after a human creature was exchanged for an infinite price, the price of a Son of God. The price paid for the captive must be greater than the captive, if it is to be an argument in favor of the exchange. Typically, therefore, although human creation itself justifies dignity for the Christian Greeks, redemption does so on a larger scale.
It is therefore crucial to observe that although imago Dei is a significant part of the early Christian approach to dignity, it is supplemented by other justifications, and, when present, it is itself transformed by the originally Christian message concerning incarnation.
2.8.4 Characterization of Dignity
The Greek Doctors worked out a universal approach to human dignity which understood it as common among humanity, present in all created as human. Basil’s insistence on recognizing the dignity of the outcasts of the late ancient societies (the sick, specifically lepers, slaves, children), Gregory of Nyssa’s fierce criticism of slavery, and Gregory of Nazianzus’s remarks on the dignity of the poor all indicate that their approach to dignity is applicable to all human beings, not only the noble, free men or those who have civil rights. Dignity, therefore, reached the universal scope of reference among the class of human subjects, at least on the conceptual level. The application of this principle to the social practices of the time remained a problem, as slavery was prevalent as a social phenomenon. In such a society, Gregory of Nyssa stands out as a vocal critic of the practice, which in the mid-twentieth century was eventually classified as a crime against humanity. The so-called problem of subsumption, i.e., the application of the principle of human dignity to different cases, in particular to slavery, remained an issue that European culture would have to face for many centuries to come. Nonetheless, a step towards a new approach to humanity was taken; namely, the formation of a principle of universal, inherent, incommensurable, and inalienable human dignity.
Such human value was taken to be inherent in human nature not only because Chrysostom explicitly stated it, but also because it is the assumption of the doctrines of iconicity and redemption, both pertaining to human nature, not something external or circumstantial. Dignity is, in general, assumed by the Greek Fathers to be one in each human being, even if it is elevated after redemption and fluctuates throughout human life. There was no attempt in the fourth century to suggest divergent dignities in one human being, only one in each human creature.228
This one dignity is at least partially dynamic, i.e., capable of growing and diminishing. The process of alteration might go both ways, although the criterion of change is the same: actions that either increase or decrease God-likeness. This process reaches its limit upon human death, when the icon is judged by its state. The infinite level of human value is not achieved by human means, however, for after the incarnation and redemption, human dignity reaches a priceless, absolute limit of being equated with the infinite value of God. This theme introduces some contrast with the dominant trend of the ancient pagan culture in which human
Multiple remarks, specifically those concerning the treatment of dignity-bearers, show the normative (as distinct from descriptive) character of the concept of dignity. Dignity obliges those who face it to treat its subject accordingly, as Basil insists when commenting on the disrespect to children being sold at the agora, or the neglected poor, who deserve to be loved. He and Gregory of Nazianzus make equal contributions with regard to justifying the dignity of the poor, while Gregory of Nyssa aided the development of a humanitarian approach to slavery the most. The topic, thus formulated, does not have many precedents in the ancient pagan tradition, not even in Stoic cosmopolitanism.
The norm-introducing feature of dignity is also clearly revealed in the cognitive imperative which arises from the highest value humans possess: that is, the imperative to recognize one’s own dignity. Having entered into European culture through Basil’s writings, the imperative multiplied, and endured. The significance of this call will be fully revealed in Chapters Three and Four, dedicated to the Latin West.
The Greeks invented a framework of reference for the notion of dignity that the next generations of intellectuals followed, passed on, and finally enriched with an influx of new ideas. Before this happened, in advanced medieval times, ages passed during which the statements of the Greek Fathers of the Golden Age about human dignity remained the steady course on which European culture moved.
For a study of the idea of the image see: A. Altmann, “Homo Imago Dei” in Jewish and Christian Theology, in: JR 48 (1968), 235–259; P. Sands, The Imago Dei as Vocation, in: EQ 82 (2010), 28–41; J.R. Middleton, The Liberating Image: The “Imago Dei” in Genesis 1, Grand Rapids 2005, 93–184; C.L. Beckerleg, The “Image of God” in Eden: The Creation of Mankind in Genesis 2:5–3:24, in: id., Light of the mīs pî pīt pî and wpt-r Rituals of Mesopotamia and Ancient Egypt, MA Thesis, Cambridge 2009; H. Wolff, Anthropology of the Old Testament, Philadelphia 1974, 159–165.
R. Debes (ed.), Dignity: A History, New York 2017; M. Düwell / J. Braarvig / R. Brownsword / D. Mieth (eds.), The Cambridge Handbook of Human Dignity, Cambridge 2014; M. Rosen, Dignity: Its History and Meaning, Cambridge 2012.
W. Seńko, Jak rozumieć filozofię średniowieczną, Cracow 2001, 42; P.A. McNulty / B. Hamilton, Orientale lumen et magistra Latinitas: Greek Influences on Western Monasticism (900–1100), in: Le Millénaire du Mont Athos, 963–1963: Études et Mélanges 1, Wetteren 1963, 181–216.
Leo. M., trac. 21.3 (CCL 138, 88).
Leo. M., trac. 27.6 (CCL 138, 137).
V. Peri, Omelie origeniane sui Salmi: Contributo all’identificazione del testo latino, Vatican 1980; id., “Correptores immo corruptores.” Un saggio di critica testuale nella Roma del XII secolo, in: IMU 20 (1977), 19–125; Orygenes / Hieronim, Homilie o księdze psalmów (St. Kalinkowski trans.), Cracow 2004.
Hier., trac. in ps. 81.1 (HO 9/1, 230).
Augustine’s uses from De libero arbitrio discuss the levels of dignity in various natures, not dignitas hominis.
L.D. Davis, The First Seven Ecumenical Councils (325–787): Their History and Theology, Collegeville 1990, 33–206.
J.A. Wiseman, Spirituality and Mysticism: A Global View, New York 2006, 43–63; J. Kelly, Early Christian Doctrines, New York 1978, 3; J. Quasten, Patrology 3: The Golden Age of Greek Patristic Literature: From the Council of Nicaea to the Council of Chalcedon, Notre Dame 1991, 1–5; A. Hamman, The Turnabout of the Fourth Century (P. Solari trans.), in: A. Di Berardino (ed.), The Golden Age of Latin Patristic Literature: From the Council of Nicaea to the Council of Chalcedon (P. Solari trans.), Notre Dame 1990, 1–32.
Athanasius Alexandrinus, e.g. in De Decretis, Epistulae ad Serapionem; Basil. Caes., contr. Eun. 1.5–14 (SCh 299, 168–225); ep. 38; 52; Gregorius Nyssenus, Contra Eunomium; Gr. Naz., or. 31.
On the role of the Council of Nice: M.C. Steenberg, Of God and Man: Theology as Anthropology from Irenaeus to Athanasius, London 2009, 104–127; for biographies and roles of the Greek writers: K. Anatolios, Athanasius: The Coherence of His Thought, London 1998, 207–213; P. Rousseau, Basil of Caesarea, Berkeley 1998, 1–28.270–313; B.E. Daley, Gregory of Nazianzus, The Early Church Fathers, London 2006, 1–59; J.H.W.G. Liebeschuetz, Ambrose and John Chrysostom: Clerics between Desert and Empire, Oxford 2011, 113–132.265–276.
A. Muszala / R. Woźniak, Ojcowie naszej wiary, Cracow 2019, 116.
Athanasius Alexandrinus, Vita Antonii.
T.D. Barnes, Athanasius and Constantius: Theology and Politics in the Constantinian Empire, Cambridge 1993, 34–93; H. Chadwick, The Church in Ancient Society: From Galilee to Gregory the Great, Oxford 2001, 227–239; U. Heil, Atanasio di Alessandria, in: S. Döpp / W. Geerlings / C. Noce (eds.), Dizionario di letteratura cristiana antica, Vatican 2006, 107–115; J. Quasten, Athanasius, in: id., 1991, 20–22; M. Starowieyski, Atanazy Wielki, in: M. Starowieyski / J.M. Szymusiak (eds.), Nowy słownik wczesnochrześcijańskiego piśmiennictwa, Poznań 2022, 122–128; A. Camplani, Atanasio di Alessandria, in: A. Di Berardino (ed.), Nuovo dizionario patristico e di antichità cristiane, Genova 2006, 614–635.
Ath., de inc. 54.3 (SCh 199, 458).
International Theological Commission, Theology, Christology, Anthropology, 1981, E 1; J. Naumowicz, Wcielenie Boga i zbawienie człowieka. Złota reguła soteriologii patrystycznej, in: Warszawskie Studia Teologiczne 13 (2000), 17–30.
D. Edwards, Athanasius: The Word of God in Creation and Salvation, in: E.M. Conradie (ed.), Creation and Salvation 1: A Mosaic of Selected Classic Christian Theologies, Münster 2012, 44.
2 Pet 1:4 (NRSV-CE trans.). Here and elsewhere, I quote the English translations of the Bible after the New Revised Standard Version Catholic Edition (NRSV-CE), unless I use my own translation. If that is the case, it is always indicated. Cf. the Greek original:
2 Cor 8:9 (NRSV-CE trans.). Cf. the Greek:
Iren., haer. 3.19,1 (SCh 34, 332). The Greek taken from Theodoret of Cyrus’s Dialogues reads:
Iren., haer. 3.16,3 (SCh 34, 282): Filius Dei, hominis Filius factus, ut per eum adoptionem percipiamus, portante homine et capiente et conplectente Filium Dei. Cf. Iren., haer. 5.16,2 and 5 praef.
Iren., haer. 5.16.2 (SCh 153, 216): Tunc autem hoc verum ostensum est, quando homo Verbum Dei factum est, semetipsum homini et hominem sibimetipsi assimilans, ut per eam quae est ad Filium similitudinem pretiosus homo fiat Patri.
Iren., haer. 5.16,2 (SCh 153, 218;
Eph 3:19:
Iren., haer. 5 praef. (SCh 153, 14–15).
Clem. Al., protr. 1.8,4; Or., Cels. 3.28.
N. Russel, The Doctrine of Deification in the Greek Patristic Tradition, Oxford 2004, 340–341.
Russel, 2004, 167–168.
Or., princ. 3.6,1 (GCS 22, 280).
Origen’s ideas on human dignity comprise the main area of interest of an ongoing international patristic project, led by Prof. Karla Pollman with Sara Contini and Ilaria Scarponi, and Prof. Alfons Fürst with Anders-Christian Jacobsen. As the outcomes are simultaneously being published but unavailable as of yet, I do not discuss Origen’s ideas in detail, but merely highlight some specific points. Much debate pertaining to Origen and human dignity is ongoing, such as the most radical view, i.e., a hypothesis that Origen conforms to the notion of racism, cf. M. den Dulk, Origen of Alexandria and the History of Racism as a Theological Problem, in: JThS 71 (2020), 164–195. For a response to the accusation of racism towards Origen, cf. J. Solheid, Origen of Alexandria and Human Dignity, in: ZAC 27 (2023), 226–256. My reaction to the idea that Origen is a racist is that, regardless of historical context, den Dulk’s criteria of racism (which developed as a concept much later) pertain to cases which in principle it cannot, and thus the theorem’s function is too broad. On the complex reception of Origen in the Latin tradition, cf. A.-C. Jacobsen (ed.), Origeniana Undecima: Origen and Origenism in the History of Western Thought, Leuven 2016. Concerning the idea of Origen’s individualistic and at the same time social notion of the self, contained in his commentary to psalm 81, a book is being published by Fürst in the Munich Adamantiana series.
J.W. Trigg, Introduction, in: Origen, Homilies on the Psalms: Codex Monacensis Graecus 314 (J. Trigg trans.), Washington 2020, 3–10.
Eus., h.e. 6.24,2; Hier., ep. 34 1.
L. Perrone, Discovering Origen’s Lost Homilies on the Psalms, in: Piscitelli (ed.), 2012, 19–46.
L. Perrone / M.M. Pradel / E Prinzivalli / A. Cacciari (eds.), Origen of Alexandria, Die neuen Psalmenhomilien: Eine kritische Edition des Codex Monacensis Graecus 314, Berlin 2015.
For an introduction to Origen’s idea of deification reconstructed based on other writings, see Russel, 2004, 140–153.
Or., in ps. 81.1 (GCS 19, 509).
Or., in ps. 81.1 (GCS 19, 512).
Or., in ps. 81.1 (GCS 19, 512).
Or., in ps. 81.1 (GCS 19, 512).
Or., in ps. 81.3 (GCS 19, 514). Favoritism of persons is criticised in Acts 10:34; Rom 2:11; Eph 6:9; Jas 2:1, 2:9; cf. Jude 1:16. I summarize the five uses in their original forms in: Guerrero van der Meijden, 2019, 5.
Or., in ps. 81.1 (GCS 19, 509).
Or., princ. 3.6,1 (GCS 22, 280).
Or., princ. 3.6,1 (GCS 22, 280).
Or., princ. 3.6,1 (GCS 22, 280).
Or., princ. 3.6,1 (GCS 22, 280).
On Origen’s idea of self-determination (
Or., in ps. 81.5 (GCS 19, 516).
Ps 82:6–7 (NRSV-CE trans.). Cf. Or., in ps. 81.1 (GCS 19, 511). As mentioned, some earlier passages of Origen’s writings are subject to debate regarding the Alexandrian exegete’s approach to the hierarchy between man and women or between people of various cultures (cf. e.g. princ. 2.9 but also the article by den Dulk, Origen of Alexandria and the History of Racism …, 164–195 and Solheid’s response, Origen of Alexandria and Human Dignity, 226–256). The hierarchies resulting from paideia in Origen should not contradict dignitas imaginis, since human worth, consisting in being an image and aiming at a telos, is ingrained in nature during its creation and secured in the eschatological perspective. As Origen is being considered here primarily as a source for an egalitarian and universal application of dignitas hominis by Jerome, I do not discuss his approach to women or various tribes, for they all are images of God.
International Theological Commission 1981, E 1.
Catechism of the Catholic Church, Vatican 1992, no 460.
Clem. Al., protr. 1.8,4; Or., Cels. 3.28.
Russel, 2004, 169–170.
Russel observes that among Athanasius’s 50 uses of
Ath., de inc. 3.5–7; 3.11–14.
D. Lewis, Extrinsic Properties, in: Philosophical Studies 44 (1983), 197–200; D. Marshall / B. Weatherson, Intrinsic vs. Extrinsic Properties, in: E.N. Zalta (ed.), The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy (Spring 2018 Edition).
Ath., de inc. 14.
Ath., de inc. 34.2 (SCh 199, 386).
August., trin. 13.13,17.
Ath., de inc. 25.1; 38.3.
On various approaches to the logic of redemption, see: M. Paluch / J. Szymik, Dogmatyka 3, Warsaw 2006, 287–378; G.L. Müller, Dogmatyka katolicka, Cracow 2015, 400–407.
Tit 3:4.
Ath., de inc. 14.
NRSV-CE. trans.
Ath., de inc. 3–6; 8–9; metaphor of the canvas: 14.
Ath., de inc. 12.
Ath., de inc. 13.7.
Ath., de inc., image as disappearing in 6, likeness as lost in 14.
P. Adamson, Philosophy in the Hellenistic and Roman Worlds: History of Philosophy without any Gaps 2, Oxford 2015, 299.
Gr. Naz., or. 43 in laud. B. 3–11.
Adamson, 2015, 299–300.
J. Gribomont, Basilio di Cesarea di Cappadocia, in: Di Berardino, 2006, 724–731; Benedict XVI, Church Fathers: From Clement of Rome to Augustine (L’Osservatore Romano trans.), San Francisco 2009, 65–66; J. Quasten, Basil the Great, in: id., 1991, 204–236; R.T. Smith, St. Basil the Great, London 1879, 12–18; Muszala / Woźniak, 2019, 123–131.
Smith, 1879, 12.
Gr. Naz., or. 43 in laud. B. 34; Basil the Great, Anaphora Sancti Basilii.
Basil the Great, Contra Eunomium; De Spiritu Sancto; Epistula 38; Epistula 52.
Basil the Great, ep. 94; Gr. Naz., or. 43 in laud. B. 63.
Basil the Great, Regulae brevius tractatae, Regulae fusius tractatae.
Ben., reg. 73.
M. Starowieyski, Atanazy Wielki, in: M. Starowieyski / J.M. Szymusiak (eds.), Nowy słownik wczesnochrześcijańskiego piśmiennictwa, Poznań 2022, 194.
Basil the Great, Homilia in illud: Attende tibi ipsi (PG 31, 197–217); critical edition: S.Y. Rudberg (ed.), L’homélie de Basile de Césarée sur le mot “Observe-toi toi-même”: Édition critique du texte grec et étude sur la tradition manuscrite, Stockholm 1962.
Basil. Caes., att. t. i. 3.
Pl., Alc. 1.131e.
Interestingly, Basil does not list slaves among one’s possessions.
Basil. Caes., att. t. i. 6 (PG 31, 212).
Basil. Caes., hex. 7.3. Cf. footnote 119 below.
In Hebrew transliterations I follow Thomas Lambdin’s rules: T.O. Lambdin, Introduction to Biblical Hebrew, New York 1971, XXI–XXV.
Basil. Caes., att. t. i. 6.7.
Basil. Caes., in ps. 1 3 (PG 29, 216–217). English translations by A.C. Way are taken from: Saint Basil, Exegetic Homilies (A.C. Way trans.), Washington 2006, 155–156. I replaced the biblical quotation with NRSV-CE to remain consistent with the previous biblical references.
Basil. Caes., att. t. i. 7 (PG 31, 216, J.G.M trans.).
Basil. Caes., in ps. 28 4 (PG 29, 293, A.C. Way trans., 202).
2 Cor 4:7.
Basil. Caes., de cr. hom. 2.4 (SCh 160, 234, linea 16).
Gr. Naz., or. 43 in laud. B. 48 (PG 36, 560).
Basil. Caes., in ps. 48 8 (PG 29, 449, A.C. Way trans., 325).
Basil. Caes., in ps. 48 8 (PG 29, 452). A.C. Way translates the expression as “the image of the earthly” (see: 325).
Ibidem.
Basil. Caes., in ps. 32 1 (PG 29, 324, A.C. Way trans., 227).
Basil. Caes., in ps. 48 9 (PG 29, 353, A. C. Way trans., 327).
Selected sentences from this chapter are identical to the contents of my Polish article: J. Guerrero van der Meijden, Późnostarożytne apele o rozpoznanie godności ludzkiej: Bazyli z Cezarei Kapadockiej, Ambroży z Mediolanu, Leon Wielki, Mistrz z Werony, in: Vox Patrum 83 (2022), 141–162.
J. Quasten, Basil the Great, in: id., 1991, 218. Quasten considers homilies dealing with psalms 1, 7, 14, 28, 29, 32, 33, 44, 45, 48, 59, 61, and 114 to be authentic. Cf. also A.C. Way, Introduction, in: Saint Basil, Exegetic Homilies (A.C. Way trans.), Washington 2006, vii–xvi; B. Jackson, Works: Exegetic, in: P. Schaff (ed.), Saint Basil the Great, The Treatise “De Spiritu Sancto”, the Nine Homilies of the Hexaemeron, and the Letters, Grand Rapids 1894, 76–77.
Basil. Caes., in ps. 48 3–4.
Cf. Basil. Caes., in ps. 48 3.
Basil. Caes., in ps. 48 8 (PG 29, 452):
Compare the English translation by A. C. Way, in: Basil of Caesarea, Homily on the Psalm 48, par. 8 (A.C. Way trans.), 326: “If you are not mindful of your first origin, because of the price paid for you, accept at least some idea of your dignity; look at that which was given in exchange for you and realize your own worth. You were bought with the precious blood of Christ; do not become a slave of sin. Understand your own honor, in order that you may not be made like the senseless beasts.”
PG 29, CLXXVII–CLXXVIII.
Basil. Caes., in ps. 48 8 (PG 29, 451): Primae tuae originis si memor non es, ex persoluto pro te pretio qualemcumque dignitatis tuae notionem accipe; ad pretium illud quo commutatus es respice, tuamque agnosce dignitatem. Emptus es pretiosissimo Christi sanguine; peccati ne fias servus. Intellige tuam praestantiam, ut ne iumentis insipientibus assimileris.
J.H. Moulton / G. Milligan, The Vocabulary of the Greek Testament, London 1995, 630; see teleo in LSC.
K. Harper, Slavery in the Late Roman World, AD 275–425, Cambridge 2011, 33–66.
Basil. Caes., 2 in ps. 14 4 (PG 29, 277). Cf. also Basil. Caes., in div. 4.
Compare with Prov 20:6 in Septuagint version.
Basil. Caes., in ps. 48 8 (PG 29, 451, A.C. Way trans., 324, adapted).
A similar conclusion was formulated by Volp; cf. U. Volp, Die Würde des Menschen: Ein Beitrag zur Anthropologie in der Alten Kirche, Leiden 2006, 165–166.
M. Lebech / J. McEvoy / J. Flood, “Deus qui humanae substantiae dignitatem”: A Latin Liturgical Source Contributing to the Conceptualization History of Human Dignity, in: Maynooth Philosophical Papers 10 (2020), 117–133.
John Paul II, Patres Ecclesiae, II.
Benedict XVI, General audience, 4 July 2007; General audience, 7 August 2007.
John Paul II, Patres Ecclesiae, II. Trans. JGM.
C.S. Lewis, The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, London 1950. I am referring to Aslan’s reasons for offering himself instead of Edmund, as explicated in Chapter 15 revealing “the deeper magic.”
Epict., dia. 1.1–2,
Basil. Caes., 2 in ps. 14 4 (PG 29, 277).
Basil. Caes., in div. 4.
Basil’s views on slavery entail an explicit denial of the view of natural slavery, the criticism of harsh treatment of slaves, the criticism of the abundant needs of the slave owners, and a commentary on a particular biblical story of the two brothers, one foolish and one wise. Cf. Basil. Caes., de S. S. 20 (denial of natural slavery and commentary on the two brothers) and id., in mar. I. 1, in div. 2.2, hex. 7.3 (criticism of the harsh treatment and the abundant needs of the slave owners). Some commentaries suggested that one line of Basil’s commentary on the two brothers comes close to an Aristotelian view of slavery, which would suggest that Basil contradicted himself within just a few lines. Cf. P. Garney, Ideas on Slavery from Aristotle to Augustine, Cambridge 1996, 47. For a good account of the source material, see: Harper, 2011, 46.53.99–100.410–411.
Basil. Caes., in ps. 14 4 (PG 29, 277, A.C. Way trans., 189): “I have seen a piteous sight, free sons (
Basil. Caes., hex. 7.3.
J. Gribomont, Gregorio di Nissa, in: Di Berardino, 2006, 2466–2473; Starowieyski, Grzegorz z Nyssy, in: Starowieyski / Szymusiak (eds.), 2022, 416–24.
Gregory of Nyssa, De opificio hominis (PG 44, 124–256).
Gr. Nyss., de op. hom. 2 (PG 44, 132).
Gen 1:24–31.
For a general introduction to Gregory’s views on human axiology, cf. F.H. Bastitta, If You Do Not Know Yourself, Beautiful Amongst Women: Human Greatness in Gregory of Nyssa and its Influence on the Quattrocento, in: Maspero / Brugarolas / Vigorelli (eds.), 2018, 390–402.
Gr. Nyss., de op. hom. 2 (PG 44, 132–133).
Gr. Nyss., de op. hom. 3 (PG 44, 133).
Gr. Nyss., de op. hom. 3 (PG 44, 133). Gen 1:26 (NRSV-CE trans.).
See J.T. Muckle, The Doctrine of St. Gregory of Nyssa on Man as the Image of God, in: MS 7 (1945), 55–84; M. Przyszychowska, Introduction, in: Grzegorz z Nyssy, O stworzeniu człowieka (M. Przyszychowska trans.), Cracow 2006, 14–21.
R. Leys, L’image de Dieu chez Grégoire de Nysse, Paris 1951, 60; W. Völker, Gregorio di Nissa filosofo e mistico (C. Tommasi trans.), Milan 1993, 72.
Gr. Nyss., de op. hom. 11; 16.
Gr. Nyss., de op. hom. 4 (PG 44, 136).
Gr. Nyss., de op. hom. 5 (PG 44, 137).
Gr. Nyss., de op. hom. 16 (PG 44, 184).
Gr. Nyss., de an. et resurr. (PG 46, 160).
Gr. Nyss., hom. in beat. 3 (GNO 7/2, 105).
Gr. Nyss., de op. hom. 11.
Gr. Nyss., de op. hom. 20.
For scriptural and philosophical assumptions of Gregory’s take on apokatastasis cf. I. Ramelli, Christian Soteriology and Christian Platonism: Origen, Gregory of Nyssa, and the Biblical and Philosophical Basis of the Doctrine of Apokatastasis, in: VigChr 61 (2007), 313–256.
Gr. Nyss., de op. hom. 16 (PG 44, 180).
For the history of the concept of the microcosm from Democritus, Plato, and Aristotle until the late Middle Ages, cf. Guerrero van der Meijden, 2019, 155–63. See also: J. Kiełbasa, Człowiek jako mikrokosmos w myśli średniowiecza, in: M. Karas (ed.), Historia filozofii: Meandry kultury. Teksty i studia ofiarowane Jackowi Widomskiemu z okazji 65. urodzin, Cracow 2014, 145–158; R. Wright, Macrocosm and Microcosm, in ead., Cosmology in Antiquity, London 1995, 57–59; J.A. Coulter, The Literary Microcosm: Theories of Interpretation of Late Neoplatonists, Leiden 1976; G.P. Conger, Theories of Macrocosms and Microcosms in the History of Philosophy, New York 1922.
Gr. Nyss., de op. hom. 2; Nemes., nat. hom. 1.
Gr. Nyss., de op. hom. 16 (PG 44, 177).
Gr. Nyss., de op. hom. 16.
I present a discussion of Gregory’s accusation in the context of the interpretations of microcosm by Philo of Alexandria and Nemesius of Emesa in J. Guerrero van der Meijden, Człowiek jako mały świat: Filon z Aleksandrii, Grzegorz z Nyssy, Nemezjusz z Emezy, Edyta Stein. Czy mikrokosmiczność uchybia godności człowieka?, in: J. Machnacz (ed.), Edyta Stein: Fenomenologia getyńsko-monachijska, Wrocław 2016, 13–30.
Gr. Nyss., de op. hom. 2–3 (PG 44, 132–133); 16 (PG 44, 177). Similar terminology is used throughout the work; cf. cap. 20 (PG 44, 201).
See Brill’s Lexicon Gregorianum Online, accessed 1.01.2022, https://referenceworks-1brillonline-1com-18ylw9x8x0017.hps.bj.uj.edu.pl/browse/lexicon-gregorianum-online.
Gr. Nyss., de op. hom. 4 (PG 44, 136).
J.T. Fitzgerald, The Stoics and the Early Christians on the Treatment of Slaves, in: T. Rasimus / T. Engberg-Pedersen / I. Dunderberg (eds.), Stoicism in Early Christianity, Peabody 2010, Kindle location: 3458–3496.
Gr. Nyss., in Ecc. hom. 4 (GNO 5, 334–337).
Gr. Nyss., in Ecc. hom. 4 (GNO 5, 335).
Gr. Nyss., in Ecc. hom. 4 (GNO 5, 337).
Gr. Nyss., in Ecc. hom. 4 (GNO 5, 337).
Arist., pol. 1.13,1254b16–21.
Cf. Harper, 2011, 410–411.
J. Gribomont, Gregorio di Nazianzo, in: A. Di Berardino (ed.), Nuovo dizionario F–O, Genova 2007, 2461–2466; Benedict XVI, Church Fathers, 75–80; B.E. Daley, Gregory of Nazianzus, 117; Starowieyski, Grzegorz z Nazjanzu, in: Starowieyski / Szymusiak (eds.), 2022, 409–416.
S. Heid, Natale, in: Di Berardino (ed.), 2006, 3423–3424; M. Pratesi, Introduzione, in: E. Montanari / M. Naldini / M. Pratesi (eds.), Leone Magno, I sermoni del ciclo natalizio, Florence 1998, 11; J. Naumowicz, Narodziny Bożego Narodzenia, Cracow 2016, 68–69.124–129; Gregory of Nazianzus, Mowy wybrane (collective trans.), 1967, 415.548–549.
Gr. Naz., or. 16 in patr. tac. 8 (PG 35, 945 [50]).
Gr. Naz., or. 16 in patr. tac. 8.
Gr. Naz., or. 16 in patr. tac. 8; 15 (where he calls the dignity of the image “first dignity”); id., or. 19 ad J. 13; or. 33 contr. Ar. 12.
Gr. Naz., or. 33 contr. Ar. 12.
Gr. Naz., or. 33 contr. Ar. 12.
Gr. Naz., or. 14 de paup. am. 14.
Gr. Naz., or. 33 contr. Ar. 12 (PG 36, 229). Cf. id., or. 40.22.
Gr. Naz., or. 19 ad J. 5.
Gr. Naz., or. 16.5.
Gr. Naz., or. 14 de paup. am. 7 (PG 35, 865 [59]). I stress a more precise meaning of
Gr. Naz., or. 14 de paup. am. 7 (PG 35, 865 [59]), in: St. Gregory of Nazianzus, Selected orations (M. Vinson trans.), Washington 2003, 43–44.
Gr. Naz., or. 29.19.
Gr. Naz., or. 43 in laud. B. 48.
J.A. McGuckin, St. Gregory of Nazianzus: An Intellectual Biography, Crestwood 2001, 336–337; B.E. Daley, Gregory of Nazianzus, 117.
Gregory of Nazianzus, Mowy wybrane (collective trans.), 1967, 415.
Iren., haer. 4.38.
Gr. Naz. or. 38 in Theo. 11–13.
Gregory of Nazianzus (PG 36, 324 [27]).
Gr. Naz., or. 38 in Theo. 11. Cf. id., or. 14 de paup. am. 7.
Ibidem (PG 36, 325 [43]). I stress terminology because Bernard’s of Clairvaux’s commixtiones from Sermo 2 in Nativitate Domini follow in Gregory’s footsteps: the Cistercian discusses triplex commixtio: that of human first creation (prima creatio), incarnation (nova commixtura, secunda coniunctio, and thesaurus absconditus), and final glory about which no eye has seen and no ear has heard (1 Cor 2:9).
Gr. Naz., or. 38 in Theo. 13.
F. Karpiński, Pieśń o Narodzeniu Pańskim [God is Born], in: id., Pieśni nabożne [Songs of Piety], Supraśl 1792.
Gr. Naz., or. 14 de paup. am. 14.
Gr. Nyss., de op. hom. 16.
Volp, 2006, 128–129.
P. Nautin, Teofilo di Antiochia, in: A. Di Berardino (ed.), Nuovo dizionario patristico e di antichità cristiane P–Z, Genova 2008, 5279–5280; M. Starowieyski, Teofil z Antiochii, in: Starowieyski / Szymusiak (eds.), 2022, 944–945; B. Altaner / A. Stuiber, Patrologie: Leben, Schriften und Lehre der Kirchenväter, Freiburg 1978, 75–77.556; J. Quasten, Theophilus of Antioch in: id., 2013, 236–242.
Starowieyski, 2022, 945.
Theoph., ad Aut. 2.18 (OECT 1970, 56).
Theoph., ad Aut. 2.18 (OECT 1970, 56).
NRSV-CE trans.
NRSV-CE trans.
Volp, 2006, 129.
S. Swieżawski, Nemezjusz z Emezy, in: id., Dzieje europejskiej filozofii klasycznej, Warszawa 2000, 323.
Starowieyski, 2000, 737; Swieżawski, 2000, 323–329; S. Lilla, Nemesio di Emesa, in: Di Berardino (ed.), 2008, 3440–3441; A. Kempfi, Słowo wstępne, in: Nemezjusz z Emezy, O stworzeniu człowieka (A. Kempfi trans.), Warsaw 1982, 5–15; D.L. Dusenbury, Prologue: Cosmopolitan Anthropology of Late Antiquity, in: id., Nemesius of Emesa on Human Nature: A Cosmopolitan Anthropology from Roman Syria, Oxford 2021, xv–xxiv; R.W. Sharples / P.J. van der Eijk, Introduction, in id., On Human Nature (R.W. Sharples / P.J. van der Eijk trans.), Liverpool 2008, 1–34; J. Quasten, Nemesius of Emesa, in: id., 1991, 218–246.
Nemes., nat. hom. 1 (BSGR, 15).
Nemes., nat. hom. 1 (BSGR, 2).
Nemes., nat. hom. 1 (BSGR, 5).
Nemes., nat. hom. 1 (BSGR, 3).
Nemes., nat. hom. 1 (BSGR, 3).
Nemes., nat. hom. 1 (BSGR, 2).
Nemes., nat. hom. 1; BSGR, 2–3 (what is known through the senses and the intelligible), 5 (sensible and rational), 6 (mortal and immortal), and 15 (mortal and immortal).
Nemes., nat. hom. 1 (BSGR, 5; compare linea 3, 15).
Nemes., nat. hom. 1 (BSGR, 9–11).
Nemes., nat. hom. 1 (BSGR, 11–12).
Nemes., nat. hom. 1 (BSGR, 3–4).
Nemes., nat. hom. 1 (BSGR, 15).
Nemes., nat. hom. 1 (BSGR, 13).
Pl., Ti. 90a.
Nemes., nat. hom. 1 (BSGR, 15). Nemesius’s English translation published in the third volume of the Library of Christian Classics (W. Telfer [ed.], Cyril of Jerusalem and Nemesius of Emesa, Philadelphia 2006) also translates
The Orthodox Liturgy, Oxford 1982.
A.-M. Malingrey / S. Zincone, Giovanni Crisostomo, in: Di Berardino (ed.), 2007, 2216–2224; Benedict XVI, 2009, 88–97; Muszala / Woźniak, 2019, 156–163; H. Chadwick, The Church in Ancient Society: From Galilee to Gregory the Great, Oxford 2001, 479–498.
Ioh. Chrysost., de st. 17.13.
Ioh. Chrysost., de st. 17.14.
Pl., lg. 720–966b; id., r. 433d. On the debate over the conclusive character of these remarks, cf. G. Vlastos, Slavery in Plato’s Thought, in: PhRev 50 (1941), 289–304; J. Annas, An Introduction to Plato’s Republic, Oxford 1981, 171; B. Calvert, Slavery in Plato’s Republic, in: CQ 37 (1987), 367–372.
Arist., pol. 1254b16–21. Commentators observe the inconsistency of Aristotle’s account of slavery with respect to other claims of his anthropology; cf. D. Dobbs, Natural Right and the Problem of Aristotle’s Defense of Slavery, in: The Journal of Politics 56 (1994), 69–94.
Cleanth. Stoic., hymn. D. 4–5 (STAC 33, 34–35).
Cf. J. Rist, Divine Sparks, in: id., Human Value: A Study in Ancient Philosophical Ethics, Leiden 1982, 71–83.
Cic., rep. 3.37 (OCD, 106–107). See calculations of Cicero’s slaves in M. Beard, SPQR: A History of Ancient Rome, London 2015, 328–329.
Cic., off. 1.105 (LCL 30, 106). A debate on the Stoic approach to reason can be found in J.-B. Gourinat, Apospasma: The World Soul and Its Individual Parts in Stoicism, in: C. Helmig (ed.), World Soul—Anima Mundi: On the Origins and Fortunes of a Fundamental Idea, Boston 2020, 167–188.
(Ps.)Apul., Asc. 6 (CCCM 143, 179).
(Ps.)Apul., Asc. 7 (CCCM 143, 181).
(Ps.)Apul., Asc. 7 and 9; paucissimi and pura mens in 9 (CCCM 143, 184).
Plot., enn. 2.9.
Rist, 1982, 3–11.99–113.
Ioh. Chrysost., or. 8 in ep. Phil. 73 (WGRW 16, 142).
Grundgesetz für die Bundesrepublik Deutschland, 23 May 1949, article 1: “Die Würde des Menschen ist unantastbar.”
Jo. D., ex. f. 1.44 (SCh 535, 368).
The idea of multiple dignities in a human being (as many as twenty, in fact) is to be found in: Jan of Trzciana, De natura ac dignitate hominis, Cracow 1554.