Toward an Anthropologically Engaged Theology: Implications from Human Evolution for Theological Anthropology

What is so special about humans?

I wish to show, respecting Asia and Europe, how, in all respects, they differ from one another, and concerning the figure of the inhabitants, for they are different, and do not at all resemble one another. To treat of all would be a long story, but I will tell you how I think it is with regard to the greatest and most marked differences. I say, then, that Asia differs very much from Europe as to the nature of all things, both with regard to the productions of the earth and the inhabitants, for everything is produced much more beautiful and large in Asia; the country is milder, and the dispositions of the inhabitants also are more gentle and affectionate. . . . Manly [sic] courage, endurance of suffering, laborious enterprise, and high spirit, could not be produced in such a state of things either among the native inhabitants or those of a different country, for there pleasure necessarily reigns. ⁸

People have noticed that other people are different and wondered why for perhaps as long as the genus Homo has existed. As Hippocrates demonstrates, via racism, they haven’t always come to neutral conclusions.

Christian theology has provided resources for countering this perspective. Christian scripture can be used to argue for an official ethic of human equality across diversity in early Christian communities. ⁹ This ethic may not always have been fully realized, but a theological emphasis on the shared commonality of all humanity is characteristic of much Christian theology. Theological anthropology produced during what can be called a pre-modern period prior to the development of science had a number of foci that were used to explore what might be unique and universal about humans—what makes us unique relative to other created beings. ¹⁰

As described by Vander Schel, prior to the close of the late Middle Ages, “. . . the individual human being was . . . treated as an instance of a universal idea of humanity . . ..” ¹¹ This is not to say that there haven’t been significant debates over what was universal or unique about humans. A few examples out of many suffice to show variations in this concept. Irenaeus of Lyon located our human distinctiveness in free will. ¹² Augustine of Hippo found it in our ability to receive communion with God. ¹³ Others take the doctrine of the soul and find our unique nature in having a soul. ¹⁴ Niebuhr acknowledged that our “essential nature” includes “natural endowments” such as our physicality but also highlighted our “. . . transcendence over natural process and finally . . . self-transcendence.” ¹⁵

More recently, theologians have paid greater attention to human beings as individuals; we have differences but also universal essences that support important claims for universal human dignity, freedom, and agency. ¹⁶ The postmodern social theory opposed such notions, focusing instead on human differences, even to the point of questioning whether we can identify humanness at all. ¹⁷ Nonetheless, the awareness of both cultural and individual diversity and difference is widely recognized in theology. We may share a common humanity, but we also have differences that are biological and social, often called “alterity.” But these differences are not monolithic. Humans are not reducible to a single trait—gender, economic status, ethnic origin, or culture—as important work on intersectionality has shown. ¹⁸ This leads to a key question, “What role does alterity and intersectionality play in being human?” ¹⁹

These approaches highlight the culturally conditioned nature of doing theology. “Because Christian theology is human speech about God, it is always related to historical situations, and thus all of its assertions are culturally limited.” ²⁰ Nevertheless, alterity, or more broadly, human diversity, is frequently posed as a challenge to understanding a more fundamental, shared, human nature. There is a tendency to view these differences as biological and/or social differences that are secondary to a more fundamental and non-diverse human nature, even if they are considered important and theologically relevant differences.

Importantly, contributions to theological studies that are explicitly grounded in the experience of oppressed and subjected people and groups have pointed out the dangers of choosing any single trait, or limited number of traits, to define the essence or specialness of humans and/or the Imago Dei. Doing so is a form of essentialism. ²¹ For centuries, even today in some theological circles, patriarchal assumptions about the presumed gender of God as male have been “. . . inimical to women’s being Imago Dei precisely as female.” ²² Humanness is sometimes reduced to or defined by one or a few human traits, such as intelligence, creativity, spirituality, the soul, and so on. However good the intentions behind such arguments may be, such traits can be used to define some humans as less than others—inherently less intelligent, incorrectly spiritual, and so on—or such traits can be used to support a dominating group.

At the same time, the fact that humans and other living things have similar origins and evolutionary processes makes it difficult to develop theology within a Christian tradition that views humans as a special created living thing, a species in a particular and distinct relationship with God. Verschuuren has tried to resolve this problem by arguing that certain aspects of what he sees as aspects of essential humanness—language, rationality, morality, self-awareness, religiosity, and the soul—are truly unique. ²³ Farris has taken a similar approach. While agreeing that “Human origins point to our creaturely status before God . . . It dictates that our existence is neither causally necessary nor independent of other conditions,” ²⁴ he also believes that “there are distinct facts about the story of human origins for which some special divine action seems necessary.” ²⁵ He locates “humanness” in a “capacity for spiritual vision” and the presence of a soul. ²⁶ Peacocke, within his own valuable reflections on the implications of biology and evolution for understanding humanness, also adopts similar lists of traits. ²⁷ A recent and valuable symposium ²⁸ on human uniqueness has also yielded similar ideas, such as “the human socio-cognitive niche,” “deep social mind,” “cumulative cultural evolution,” “collective brains,” and “the ability to suffuse the world with meaning and belief.” ²⁹

The main problem is that things like language, rationality, morality, self-awareness, spirituality, and the soul are articulated through our advanced capabilities for language. This language itself can be imprecise. What exactly do we mean by rationality, morality, self-awareness, or deep social mind? All of these have different definitions in different cultures, and numerous cultures would not identify “humanness” with all these traits or claim that humans have them, and other living things don’t. Even comparisons of traits with animals has not yielded what is uniquely human. Evolutionary psychology has shown us that, “Overall, as research advances, lines that formerly had seemed to divide animals and humans now become increasingly blurred, making the question of human uniqueness ever more problematic.” ³⁰ In all cases, we recognize that differences between humans and other species are of degree, rather than kind. ³¹ Furthermore, it is difficult, perhaps impossible, to separate these concepts from the cultural milieu in which they emerged or are deployed.

Furthermore, it is currently difficult, if not impossible, to rigorously define in a scientific manner what rationality, morality, spirituality, and self-awareness are in a way that can be universally accepted by scientists (or even accepted by many scientists). We know that they are related to our brain, and it is possible to identify electrical activity in the brain related to many of these concepts, but exactly how they form is currently unknown. Things become even more difficult when we try to measure these concepts in animals that lack our capacity for complex language. How would we know whether fish are self-aware, in the same way as we are, or not? What empirical test could be undertaken?

A different approach is to put paleoanthropological data on the origin of H. sapiens in conversation with theological concepts of the human to yield more defensible information about what might constitute humanness. By integrating the insights of paleoanthropology and archeology into theological anthropology, through an anthropologically engaged theology, it is possible to define humanness in a manner that both better reflects scientific evidence and avoids reducing humanness to one or a few traits with all the attendant possibility for supporting domination systems.

Science and religion approaches

While there are a number of ways to characterize the relationships between science and religion, I have found Barbour’s Four Models approach to be valuable, both in their relative simplicity and in their utility as a heuristic device for approaching what is ultimately a very diverse and complex set of relationships between fields. ³² Barbour describes four main ways through which the relationship between science and religion has been approached within popular dialog, popular writing, and academic scholarship: conflict, independence, dialog, and synthesis.

In this paper, I have adopted Barbour’s dialog approach. Dialog approaches consider the two ways of knowing as sufficiently valid and even relatable in cross-disciplinary dialog between scientists and theologians. I take theological questions and utilize paleoanthropological data to see how, when considered together, they might yield new theological insights.

Within an overall dialog approach, I also identify ways in which anthropology can be used to enlarge theological understandings while ensuring that anthropological data are interpreted and used in ways that do not misrepresent their findings, as defined in science-engaged theology. ³³ My goal is to ask, “. . . how does y finding shed new light, or correct a distortion, or corroborate a position in x theology?” ³⁴ I developed a subset of science-engaged theology, which I call “Anthropologically Engaged Theology.” Anthropologically engaged theology strives to ensure that when deploying arguments about humans, and particularly human beliefs and practices, a theological argument uses the contributions of anthropology in a way that does not ignore, misstate, or misrepresent what the field of anthropology has taught us about human behavior. Furthermore, by placing evidence from studies of human biological and cultural evolution in dialog with theological concepts of the Imago Dei, it is possible to develop an understanding of humanness that does not essentialize and, in fact, opens up creative ways to consider the Imago Dei.

Anthropology and human evolution

Modern humans are diverse. We are diverse over time and space, within a given time and space, and even within a given culture or a family unit. As Emmanuel Lartey has said, “We are like all others, we are like some others, and we are like no other.” ³⁵ And we are all these things at the same time. We can recognize a common humanity across cultures and time, but very quickly the diversity of our humanity is not only evident but highlighted as we learn about variations in human culture. Culture does provide us with a sense of commonness to some people (as does gender, economic status, and so on). Yet, even within a culture, each individual is unique, has agency, and the capacity to differ from other individuals.

Within an anthropologically engaged theology, it is important to remember that humanness is inexorably bound up with culture ³⁶ and that cultural differences and cultural change matter. The details of cultural beliefs result in very different ways of being, relating to other humans and the environment. Attempts to find universal aspects of humanness can weaken theology because they eliminate so many cultural details that they become so general as to not be useful. If we prioritize simple universalities—love of children for example—we fail to recognize the complexity inherent in defining “love” or “children” and their implications for human practices. An anthropologically engaged theology takes difference seriously and looks for ways that human differences and changes in ways of being might provide insights for theological anthropology.

Anthropological insights have greatly enhanced our understanding of how our species came to inhabit this planet. As many theologians have argued, ³⁷ there need not be any conflict between Biblical accounts of human origins and what we have learned from anthropological studies. However, any theology that uses anthropological information about the creation and origins of humans should be grounded in a thorough and up-to-date understanding of the evidence from paleoanthropology.

Based on both archeological and DNA evidence, the currently accepted theory is that H. sapiens evolved in Africa, roughly 200,000 years ago ³⁸ from a long and complex line of now-extinct bipedal hominids that appeared at least four million years ago. From there, various descendent populations of hominids spread to the rest of the world. In addition, multiple different forms of hominids evolved in Africa and even coexisted. ³⁹ Our own evolution was diverse and complex and is not yet fully understood.

In addition, at least one of these species—Homo erectus—left Africa to inhabit both Europe and Asia only to ultimately go extinct in both Africa and the rest of the world prior to the evolution of H. sapiens. ⁴⁰ Finally, there is strong evidence that in the last 200,000 years, what are considered two, or potentially five, species and/or subspecies of humans—H. sapiens and H. neandertalensis, H. nailedi, H. floresiensis, and Denisovians—not only coexisted in Africa and what is now Europe but also, in some cases, have interbred. ⁴¹ Ultimately these other forms of Homo ceased to exist, leaving only H. sapiens. ⁴²

An additional, and striking, aspect of our evolution lies in the now well-demonstrated evidence that our origin as H. sapiens in a physical sense predated our origin as H. sapiens in a behavioral sense. Anthropologists who study this transformation call it the change from anatomically modern humans to behaviorally modern humans. Anthropologists use the term “anatomically modern” to mean physically indistinguishable in shape and form from our species today, as opposed to identifiable as a different species entirely (such as H. erectus, Australopithecus afarensis, and so on).

Based on currently available evidence, anatomically modern humans (people who were built like we are) definitively appear no earlier than approximately 200,000 years ago. ⁴³ By this, anthropologists mean that humans like us became distinct from other contemporary and previous hominids around that time. These individuals had our distinct skull features (a large brain case with a notable large area for the frontal lobe, a larger parietal area [near the ears], and a flat face with no projection of the anterior dental region [prognathism]), less robust jaws, and the general proportions and shapes of other parts of the body. In other words, you could put these individuals into a modern set of clothes and—other than being shorter than many people in the rich world today—they would not stick out in a subway car.

Notably, these early humans did not behave in ways that are characteristic of all human groups today. The main difference lies in a lack of diversity in adaptations and a lack of change over time in technology and other adaptive traits. Prior to the appearance of H. sapiens, earlier hominids shared a number of technological adaptations with our species. They made stone and bone tools that were much more sophisticated than those used by other primates such as chimpanzees. The control of fire seems to be associated with H. erectus. Neanderthals also appear to have been the first ancestral human species that intentionally buried their dead. Very good evidence for the purposeful excavation of “tombs” (simple burial pits) has been identified near Neanderthal occupations. Nevertheless, the tools made by these hominids (e.g., Acheulean hand-axes) are general-purpose tools used for all forms of cutting and hammering, rather than specialized for particular purposes like tools designed by fully modern humans. ⁴⁴ Furthermore, there is no conclusive evidence of the placement of grave goods or other modern human practices, and it is currently impossible to rule out that Neanderthals simply buried their dead as a hygienic measure rather than due to any particular, modern human, cultural traditions around corpse disposal. ⁴⁵ Still, early anatomically modern humans were clearly distinct from earlier hominids and had adopted some of the technological advances of our species.

Nevertheless, earlier species of Homo, such as H. erectus, as well as the earliest modern humans appear to have used a comparatively simple stone-and-bone tool kit that was not particularly specialized regardless of whether they lived in a desert, a jungle, or any other distinct environment. ⁴⁶ H. erectus is well known for the production of beautiful bifacial stone tools known as Acheulean hand-axes. But these tools are very generalized; used for a wide range of cutting, piercing, and crushing tasks; and they vary little over time and space. In addition, for tens of thousands of years after the appearance of anatomically modern humans, this form of simple, non-diverse adaptation was essentially static, with only minor changes that reflect the relative abundance of food types (fish, shellfish, and so on). ⁴⁷ Indeed, even though it is clear that early modern humans would choose to specialize in resources found in particular locales, it is also clear that they did so without developing particularly specialized tools for the exploitation of those resources. ⁴⁸

During these early periods, there is almost no clear evidence for what we would call art or decoration (of tools, of cave walls, of rocks, and so on). While a very small number of artifacts from this period show haphazard incisions that may represent some form of symbolic decoration, and there is one hotly debated possible human figurine made of a pebble that dates back to 230,000 years ago, ⁴⁹ I’m not convinced that these artifacts can be unambiguously called artistic objects. Finally, there is no clear evidence of any form of mortuary ritual—such as the placement of objects or grave goods with the corpse—other than creation of a burial pit. ⁵⁰

While these people were anatomically modern, this type of simple, non-diverse, and unchanging adaptation is drastically different from how our species behaves today. What is unique about us is that we adapt our technology—the tools we use to obtain and process food, construct shelter, make clothing, and so on—to the environment in ways that make our exploitation of resources highly efficient.

Furthermore, our species—even within a single environment—is almost never static in technology or social organization over either long or short periods of time. At least since the onset of the Holocene approximately 11,700 years ago, we have consistently adapted our strategies to our environment, albeit often over the scale of a few thousand years rather than the extraordinarily rapid technological changes we’ve developed in the last few hundred years (or in the last 25 years, for that matter). Nowhere do humans still behave the way they did 11,700 years ago, and even in a single environment, we have grown and shrunk in population, changed technology, become more and less complex in social organization, and generally changed adaptations at least every few thousand years. This contrasts with tens of thousands of years with very little change in human technology and adaptive strategy deployed by people who were anatomically just like us.

All of this changed about 80,000 to 50,000 years ago. ⁵¹ Archeological evidence from that period points to a much more diverse range of human behaviors associated with the remains of H. sapiens in numerous world areas. New technologies such as bone fish hooks, bone needles for making more complex and improved clothing, a diversity of structure types more tailored to specific environments, and perforated shell and bone decorative beads have all been documented. ⁵² Furthermore, for the first time, unequivocally symbolic behaviors that we would identify as art enter the archeological record. The famous cave paintings (and carvings) of Europe (e.g., Lascaux, Chauvet Cave) and Southeast Asia (e.g., the Sulawesi caves) appear to date back around 35,000 years ago. ⁵³ Sculptures carved out of stone and wood have been found, but none are older than this same time period. And clear evidence of mortuary ritual in the form of grave goods accompanying burials can be dated to no earlier than this period (conclusively by 20,000 years ago). ⁵⁴

Initially this change was seen to be very dramatic, almost as if it occurred in an instant. Paleoanthropologists called it the “Human Revolution.” It first seemed that all types of diversity in behavior appeared everywhere and more or less at once—as if a switch had been thrown. Indeed, one prominent researcher argued—not unreasonably—that it can be attributed to a genetic mutation in our brains. ⁵⁵

Perhaps unsurprisingly, as archeological research has continued, this change has been seen as less and less a matter of an instant change, or revolution, than a somewhat gradual change in a variety of behaviors over time and space. Furthermore, what we know about the earliest H. sapiens relies on limited evidence and may have involved the development of changes in behavior in a variety of locations in Africa. Nonetheless, this change appears to have occurred on the scale of tens of thousands of years at most, rather than the hundreds of thousands, or even millions of years, that defined the pace of change in human technology and behavior for all prior hominids. The pace of technological and behavioral change began to increase during the Holocene and has become extremely fast-paced today. On the geological timescale, and even on the scale of human evolution from the earliest bipedal primate to us, this change was rapid and can be identified by an increase in diversity of behavior.

Theological anthropology should take this evidence into account when developing concepts of “the human.” In my interpretation of these data, what appears to be distinctly human about our species is diversity—diversity in behavior, diversity in adaptation, diversity in social organization, and the clear development of diversity in symbolic behavior and, by inference, things like cultural beliefs. Consequently, no universalizing or essentializing theological argument about human uniqueness can be considered anthropologically informed theology. Evidence from our evolution, and particularly our emergence as a species that behaves in the way we do, indicates that we are fundamentally diverse. Our diversity of cultures is not something mapped onto a more fundamental humanness. Our diversity is not epiphenomenal in some way to something more basic and universal about us. What has made us who we are and what has made us expand and grow and even change as a species is our capacity for diverse behavior and our capacity to change this behavior over time and space. This capacity is not entirely unique to our species, but we exhibit it in vastly greater ways and numbers of ways than any other species. To share in humanness is to share human diversity.

Theological implications

Because much of theology focuses on the God-human relationship, it is almost impossible to ignore anthropological insights. As many have pointed out, our diverse cultural backgrounds yield a diversity of theological insights. ⁵⁶ Sometimes anthropology is explicitly identified in theological reasoning, particularly in theological anthropology. Understandably, given that few theologians are trained in anthropology, putting theology and anthropology into dialog and using the details of anthropology to inform theological reasons, insights from anthropology are rarely incorporated into theological arguments. Furthermore, particular cultural understandings of humanness are frequently simply assumed by theologians.

By adopting an explicitly anthropologically engaged theology, productive insights are gained when anthropological concepts are identified by a researcher and, more importantly, used in a manner that accurately reflects the anthropological concepts and insights.

Inferences for theological understandings of humans are found in anthropology. Minimally, taking the information gained from studies of human evolution combats our very human—in many cultures at least—tendency to place ourselves in some way outside creation, or as rulers of a creation that is separate from us. Knowledge that our evolution is not substantially different from the evolution of other living things “. . . makes it easier for us to see that we are all part of the same family tree that connects all that lives on Planet Earth.” ⁵⁷ Evolutionary theory in general, and human evolution studies specifically, forces us to recognize “. . . a common source and an intrinsic interrelatedness shared among all creatures.” ⁵⁸ Furthermore, our origins as one of many living things created via a single process and sharing a common ancestor help us to avoid theological ideas that “. . . often led to a dualistic view of the created world as containing rational human creatures on the one hand and irrational corporal animals on the other.” ⁵⁹ The implications of human evolution for theology are valuable concepts as we try to provide theological undergirding for taking environmental change, particularly the impacts of humans on the environment, seriously and productively.

Furthermore, taking the evidence for human evolution and integrating it into theology assists in the development of theologies that can address many of our current social challenges. It becomes much more difficult to justify any theology that relies on the subjugation of any species or sex/gender or humans of other backgrounds, ethnicities, or sexual preferences when our shared ancestry with other humans, particularly our distinctive and diverse behaviors relative to all other living things, is taken seriously. Our conflicts with each other over racial injustices, economic differences, political disagreements, and debates over responding to climate change are mitigated when we remember first and foremost that Paul’s statement about humans, “There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus,” ⁶⁰ is both theologically defensible and supported by anthropology. The aspects of human diversity that Paul found salient—e.g., Jew vs. Greek—have been demonstrated scientifically to be primarily cultural, rather than biological. Paul’s assertion of a fundamental commonality between humans continues to be supported by genetic and anthropological data.

Our diversity doesn’t need to be seen as a problem that must be resolved. It is, in fact, what is special or distinctive about humankind. It is not merely “a human universal,” ⁶¹ it may well be the only human universal. Regardless of whether anything could be argued conclusively to be a human universal, I believe diversity is a much better candidate for the Imago Dei. While there is tremendous diversity in living things, within other species, there is very little diversity in behaviors. A robin in Virginia behaves extremely similarly to one in California although they may exhibit minor differences in the foods they exploit depending on what is available. Humans, on the other hand, will adopt a diversity of lifeways within the same region at the same time and also show this diversity over time.

The cultural values we bring to debates over these issues are not eliminated by taking the well-evidenced scientific data for human commonality and shared evolutionary process seriously. An anthropologically engaged theology, however, makes the starting point for these discussions our shared genetics, our shared origins, and our shared evolutionary development with other creatures rather than our differences. An anthropologically engaged theology recognizes that cultural differences do shape all human disagreements—between different sub-cultures, between different cultures—and therefore is a motivation for seeking understanding between people first and then tackling differences. It can reduce the anxiety and tensions behind these debates, and starting from the commonalities that we have with each other and all creation encourages better dialog.

We can also use insights from evolution to reframe our understanding of our “specialness” before God in ways that do not support ruling over creation or over other human beings in destructive manners. The evidence for human evolution clearly shows that we are not special in some kind of ontological sense. We are formed by the same processes that formed the rest of creation around us. We are special in the way we are diverse and can therefore draw upon many different concepts of the divine to construct the types of theological arguments we need to address the challenges we face today among ourselves and in our relationship to our natural environment.

Notably, recent science-informed theological approaches have attempted to locate human uniqueness at a species level, rather than an individual level. ⁶² Drawing on Gregory of Nyssa’s argument in On the Human Image of God, Behr identifies the development of full humanness and the Imago Dei as a process that was completed in Christ and will be completed in us, not individually, but as a species, at the end of time. ⁶³ This approach has much to commend it, as it engages with the entire evolutionary process of humanity, rather than seeking a trait all individuals should share or a moment when this trait develops. I would argue that the concept of diversity of humanity as the Imago Dei connects both the species-level aspects of Imago Dei and the individual. Each of us is a unique representation of all human diversity, and all human diversity is unique to our species.

Furthermore, a key aspect of Trinitarian theology is the insistence by the victors at the debates of Nicea and Constantinople that the three distinct and wholly united persons of the Trinity lose none of their identity in their unity. The Trinity is true unity in diversity, where the diversity is not erased in order to identify that in God, unique persons and a diversity of persons are in the closest relationship possible. The Imago Dei may lie in sharing aspects of this diversity, even if it doesn’t necessarily result in the same unity of the Trinity. Although the richness of the doctrine of the Imago Dei should not be limited to a single concept, it is not a great conceptual leap to define the Imago Dei in humans simply as our capacity for both diversity and unity. As a species, we have not done as well historically in finding our unity across our diversity as has God. The Imago Dei is an image, after all, one that reveals our human limitations.

Equating humanness with diversity, rather than a single trait, is somewhat paradoxical—how can diversity be a trait? But if we abandon the need to define traits as we humans typically see them and locate the Imago Dei in diversity, there is tremendous value in the concept for developing theologies that overcome our human challenges with diversity.

Furthermore, an anthropologically informed understanding of the Imago Dei as diversity itself opens up more possibilities for theological creativity. ⁶⁴ No longer do we have to look for a single trait, or even identify a single moment when humanness developed. In fact, it becomes clear that our development was a process, one that demonstrates the importance of looking at God’s action in the world not only as specific moments of God-world interaction but also as ongoing, sustained, development of complexity and diversity that seems to be favored by God, as scientist-theologians have noted. ⁶⁵ Furthermore, this understanding indicates that the Imago Dei is not static; it is emergent, and we share in that emergence. We are and always have been becoming—becoming more fully human—not just in our intellectual, spiritual, and moral lives but also in our very being. Indeed our diversity, which is in many ways an expression of creativity, reveals that we are supremely creative, which validates the use of and importance of theological creativity. ⁶⁶

Highlighting and exploring what it means to identify a key aspect of the Imago Dei not as any particular human trait—with all the problems inherent to that practice—but rather as diversity itself help theologians articulate a concept of humanness that leads us out of our endless debates over being together in the face of our inherent diversity and opens up new avenues for theological anthropology.