The Nicene Creed and the Ecological Vision of Salvation in the Theology of John Zizioulas

Introduction

To commemorate the 1,700th anniversary of the Council of Nicaea, the Church has been engaged in a process of recovering the theological significance and contemporary relevance of the Nicene Creed. In this regard, Wolfram Kinzig hopes that ‘the anniversary of Nicaea encourages us to go beyond simply commemorating the golden age of patristics by developing new ways to communicate the significance of the incarnation, passion, and resurrection of Christ for our salvation to a wider public’. ¹ In response to this timely call, the present article seeks to address the question of connecting ecological concerns with the incarnational Christology of the Nicene Creed. ² To put it differently, my objective is to explore the question, ‘Can we speak of such a thing as a Nicene ecological Christology?’ In pursuing this question, this article examines the intersection of ecological concerns and the incarnational Christology expressed in the Nicene Creed, particularly through the theological anthropology and Eucharistic theology of John Zizioulas.

In the opening section of the Nicene Creed, God is referred to as the ‘maker of all things visible and invisible’, thus underscoring the divine authorship of the entire created order. However, regarding salvation, the Creed notably narrows its focus to humanity, proclaiming that the Son of God became incarnate ‘for us humans and for our salvation’ without explicitly extending this salvific scope to include all creation, ‘all things visible and invisible’. How might we theologically bridge this apparent gap in the Nicene Creed? In other words, if Christ became incarnate ‘for us humans and for our salvation’, how can we understand the saving grace of Christ’s human incarnation as extending to the non-human creation?

In this article I seek to further address this question through John Zizioulas’s ecological anthropology. I do not aim to offer a comprehensive analysis of the Nicene Creed itself or a comprehensive investigation of Orthodox or patristic theology. Rather, I seek to explore whether certain aspects of Zizioulas’s theological anthropology might enable us to envision an ecological view of Christ’s human incarnation without diminishing the significance of Christ as articulated in the Nicene Creed, and without subordinating the cosmos to the human being. I will argue that Zizioulas’s theology provides a sound theological response to such questions and shows us how to receive the Nicene Creed in our contemporary world.

John Zizioulas’s Ecological Concerns and the Implications of the Nicene Creed

Notably, during World Council of Churches (WCC) meetings, Zizioulas hinted at the connection between the Nicene Creed and ecotheology. Speaking at the 1995 Faith and Order consultation with younger theologians in Turku, Finland, Zizioulas cautioned that Christian theology risks becoming irrelevant and marginalised if it does not engage with modern challenges, particularly the ecological crisis. ³ Zizioulas argued that theology must remain profoundly connected to the realities of the world and address ecological concerns earnestly. He suggested that ignoring the ecological dimension of theology risks rendering the Church’s message irrelevant at a time when humanity is grappling with the environmental crisis. For Zizioulas, the ecological crisis presents a challenge that theology must confront to remain culturally and historically relevant.

This conviction led him to emphasise that the Nicene Creed’s affirmation of church unity must not be confined to internal, ecclesial matters but should also tackle broader concerns, including the non-human world. For Zizioulas, the Nicene Creed is not merely a statement of faith centred on the unity of the Church but also encompasses the Church’s relationship with the entirety of creation. He insisted that the unity proclaimed in the Creed must extend to the wider creation and reminds us that the Nicene Creed’s call for ‘the unity of the Church’ needs to be balanced by a deep ‘concern for the non-human world’. He argued that the ecological crisis makes it increasingly explicit that such a broad unity is essential for theology to provide eschatological hope and meaning. Neglecting ecological issues, he noted, risks not only marginalising theology but also failing to fulfil the Church’s responsibility to creation as a whole. In his view, this aligns with the Nicene Creed’s affirmation of God as Creator and its implicit acknowledgment of the unity of creation. Zizioulas called for a ‘hermeneutical re-reception’ of tradition, urging theologians to reinterpret traditional doctrines, including the Nicene Creed, to address contemporary challenges. By doing so, he argued, the Church can remain faithful to its heritage while also demonstrating the relevance of its message in the modern world.

In this way, Zizioulas argues that the Church’s journey toward unity is achieved through a shared response to contemporary crises such as the ecological crisis, and that the Nicene Creed plays a central and indispensable role in this endeavour. However, as I indicate above, a prior theological task remains: how can the incarnational Christology of the Nicene Creed, which is primarily concerned with humanity, be expanded in a cosmic and ecological direction? How can we affirm the distinctive dignity and role of the human being in the redemption of the cosmos through Christ, while at the same time moving beyond anthropocentrism in its pejoratively dominative sense?

Incarnation, Anthropocentrism, and Posthumanism

Let me begin with the phrase from the Nicene Creed. ‘Jesus Christ, the Son of God, . . . for us humans and for our salvation descended, became incarnate, was made human.’ This pivotal phrase from the Nicene Creed, also preserved in the Nicene-Constantinopolitan Creed, ⁴ profoundly shapes our understanding of the intrinsic relationship between the incarnation of Christ and the human being.

However, some postmodern ecological theologians have increasingly challenged the human characteristic of Christ’s incarnation, particularly because of its allegedly human-focused – or, as some might even argue, anthropocentric – language. Anthropocentrism is one of the most significant issues in contemporary theological fields including incarnational Christology. It is indeed, as Carmody Grey suggests, ‘one of the most sensitive and pivotal terms in contemporary Christian engagement with environmental change’. ⁵ Matthew Eaton observes that ‘Modern and contemporary theologies, especially those concerned with ecological and animal studies, are increasingly exploring the possibility of decentering the human within Christian thought’ in opposition to ‘metaphysical anthropocentrism’ and the notion of ‘humanist sovereignty’. ⁶ This anti-anthropocentric theology finds its clearest starting point in Lynn White’s paper, which evaluates Christianity as ‘the most anthropocentric religion’. ⁷ While his argument has received both positive and critical responses, a seldom-mentioned fact is that the foundation of his critique is primarily related to the anthropocentric nature of Christ’s incarnation. ‘As early as the 2nd century, both Tertullian and Saint Irenaeus of Lyons insisted that when God shaped Adam, He was foreshadowing the image of the incarnate Christ, the Second Adam.’ ⁸ For White, this intrinsic relationship between Christology and anthropology serves as crucial evidence that toxic anthropocentrism is deeply embedded in Christianity. Criticism of anthropocentrism has intensified since the discourse of posthumanism emerged as a dominant topic in academia. We are indeed living in an era that radically redefines humanity and human nature. It is thus no surprise that contemporary posthumanism now critiques the incarnation for its anthropocentric implications.

And de-anthropocentric tendencies have intensified as posthumanism has emerged as an important field of academic discourse. It is, therefore, unsurprising that contemporary posthumanist theology seeks to radically reimagine the incarnation of Christ, confronting its human-related implications. Aurica Jax asserts, ‘Posthumanism thus questions any privileging of the human over the nonhuman – this is particularly relevant for the notion of incarnation because it raises awareness of the anthropocentrism in traditional concepts of incarnation.’ ⁹ Here the Nicene language of the incarnation ‘for us humans and for our salvation’ appears to be dismissed due to its allegedly anthropocentric language.

Consequently, some radical reimaginations strive to develop a theology of incarnation that envisions the universal and cosmic embodiment of divinity without considering Christ’s human incarnation. A prime example, as mentioned by Jax, is Niels Henrik Gregersen’s ‘deep incarnation’. ¹⁰ But, earlier than that, in 2000 at Harvard University’s Center for the Study of World Religions, Sallie McFague, in an important paper ‘An Ecological Christology: Does Christianity Have It?’, advocated a concept of ‘cosmic Christ’ based on a sacramental understanding of the universe, yet hardly mentioning the human nature of Christ’s incarnation. ¹¹ It should be first acknowledged that both of these theologians’ approaches are extremely important in the development of contemporary Christology, in that they go beyond the modern historicist view of Christology ‘from below’, recover Christology’s ontological and metaphysical dimensions, and emphasise its cosmic materiality. However, one drawback of postmodern ecological Christology is that it begins with Christ’s incarnation but jumps directly to the cosmic level. Such an approach overlooks the Nicene statement of Christ’s incarnation through human materiality, and consequently tends to bypass the uniqueness of the human being in the cosmos and the significance of human vocation for the redemption of the cosmos. ¹² As British theologian John Polkinghorne points out, ‘if “incarnation” is pressed into service as a word to cover God’s presence in and to creation in a much more general way’, the ‘promiscuous use of the concept of incarnation carries with it a dangerous whiff of pantheism’, jeopardizing the ontological distinction between Creator and creatures, which is also preserved in the first line of the Nicene Creed. And, above all, the ‘unique profundity’ of the incarnation of Christ in human flesh is diluted. ¹³

The point raised by Polkinghorne serves as a valuable starting point for exploring an ecological anthropology and Christology to find a Nicene ecological Christology. ¹⁴ How can we reconcile the human incarnation of Christ for human salvation with the cosmic redemption of non-human life either without necessarily jettisoning the significance of human nature and vocation or arrogantly exaggerating it? This question invites us to explore theological perspectives that reconcile the human nature of Christ’s incarnation with an inclusive understanding of cosmic salvation for all of creation, while also doing justice to the biblical and theological significance of human agency.

Microcosm and Mediator: Nature and Vocation of Human Being

By addressing these contemporary challenges, the theology of Zizioulas provides a renewed approach that bridges the Nicene Creed’s incarnational Christology with the cosmic dimensions of ecological redemption. This intersection between the Creed’s Christological focus and the ecological concern encourages deeper reflection on the scope of salvation, suggesting that it encompasses not only humanity but also the non-human creation. To explore this complex intersection, I will examine John Zizioulas’s concepts of the human being as microcosm and mediator, and therefore the ‘priest of creation’, to determine whether these ideas offer a compelling case for arguing that the human incarnation of Christ extends to redeem non-human creation.

In Zizioulas’s theology, one of the crucial links between anthropology and Christology is the understanding of the human being as created in the image and likeness of God. ¹⁵ He elaborates on this concept by distinguishing two aspects of being created in the image and likeness of God: microcosm and freedom. These twofold dimensions of human nature not only establish humanity’s unique role in creation but also provide a basis for understanding the cosmic scope of Christ’s incarnation and redemption. ¹⁶

First, the concept of the human being as a microcosm of creation is a key feature of being created in God’s image and likeness. The human being is a microcosm, meaning that it embodies within its bodily nature the entirety of material creation, integrating the material and the spiritual, the sensible and the intelligible, the visible and the invisible. Zizioulas draws heavily on the church fathers’ interpretation of the Genesis narrative, which suggests that humanity, created last in the order of creation, represents the culmination and encapsulation of all creation. In accordance with the teachings of St Maximus the Confessor, who articulated the concept of microcosm within the framework of his theological anthropology, ¹⁷ Zizioulas asserts that ‘in the human being we have the whole world present; man is a sort of microcosm of the whole universe.’ ¹⁸ In this sense, humanity is not separate from creation but embodies it uniquely and comprehensively. This understanding is crucial for Zizioulas’s anthropological and Christological framework as it highlights humanity’s intrinsic interconnectedness with the cosmos. By using the term ‘microcosm’, Zizioulas underscores the idea that humanity is not merely a part of the natural world but an integral expression of its totality. In this view, the human being reflects and embodies the unity of creation within itself.

Zizioulas even emphasises that the implications of Darwinian thought, suggesting humans are not fundamentally distinct from nature and animals, are already implied in this theological anthropology.

Man, unlike the angels – who are also regarded as being endowed with freedom – comprises an organic part of the material world. Being the highest point in its evolution, man is able to carry with him the whole creation to its transcendence. The fact that the human animal is also an animal, as Darwin has reminded us, far from being an insult to the human race, constitutes – despite Darwin’s intentions perhaps – the sine qua non condition for his glorious mission in creation. ¹⁹

This material ontology of the human being sharing the materiality of the world, as a microcosm connecting the visible and spiritual parts of creation, is foundational to the anthropology and Christology of Zizioulas. As he explains, this concept presents ‘an anthropology which conceives the human being as an integral part of the natural creation, as an animal in the biological sense’, while also affirming the human’s unique spiritual capacity. ²⁰

Humanity constitutes a link between God and the material world, embodying as it were in a ‘microcosm’ the whole material creation and uniting it with God. Consequently, we should be able to say that human beings were created in order to unite in their person the material world with God and thus enable them to live forever. This is the destiny of humanity, which makes us more important even than the angels, since the latter do not participate in the material creation. ²¹

Crucially, Zizioulas insists that non-human creatures indeed have an eschatological future. He rejects the view that the material world is destined to disappear, affirming instead that God created the world ‘not to perish but to live forever’ in a transfigured state. He envisions the Kingdom of God not as a disembodied state but as ‘a new heaven and a new earth’ where animals and plants participate in the joy of existence. In this framework, the survival of non-human creation is not autonomous but is contingent upon being brought into communion with the eternal God through the human being, who acts as the bond of creation. ²²

The significance of the human being as a microcosm is foundational for understanding the cosmic implications of Christ’s incarnation. The key point to emphasise here is that the cosmic scope of Christ’s salvation arises from this ontological characteristic of the human being as microcosm. Zizioulas affirms that ‘the Church Fathers describe man as a “microcosm” that contains the “macrocosm” and links, by means of his body, the material with the intelligible’. ²³ This interconnectedness of humanity and creation provides a theological basis for understanding the redemptive work of Christ in universal terms. Zizioulas emphasises that it is not coincidental that the Son and Logos of God became human to effect salvation. He writes, ‘It is not accidental that, to save man, the Son and Logos of God, became “flesh” – that is, took upon Himself the element of man that links him to his natural environment.’ ²⁴ The Word of God, by assuming human nature, assumes the material dimension of creation itself, enabling the redemption of the whole cosmos through humanity. This theological insight reveals that the Incarnation is not limited to humanity’s salvation but is inherently cosmic in scope through the microcosmic nature of humanity.

The salvation of human beings, which is offered by and in Christ, is for us a cosmic event. Through human beings all creation will be saved. Christ not only saves us from ourselves; He offers the redemption of the whole of creation. The Incarnation of the Son of God as man was nothing other than the assumption of human nature, not to save humankind in its own right, but because human nature carries with it the rest of created nature by implication. ²⁵

This cosmic vision of the incarnation articulated by Zizioulas hinges on the microcosmic understanding of the human being. By becoming human, Christ not only restores the relationship between God and humanity but also sanctifies and redeems the material world. The salvific work of Christ is, therefore, both personal and cosmic, addressing the entirety of creation’s need for redemption. Through the human being, who embodies the unity of creation, the Word of God incarnate achieves the reconciliation and renewal of the whole cosmos, fulfilling the vision of cosmic redemption that lies at the heart of Zizioulas’s theology. It is worth noting that this connection between microcosmic anthropology and incarnational Christology is a core belief commonly shared by the church fathers, encapsulated by the famous phrase ‘that which is not assumed is not healed’. ²⁶ In other words, only what is assumed by the incarnate Word of God in his human nature can be healed and redeemed by his divine nature. For Zizioulas, the soteriological principle of Christology that what is assumed is healed extends far beyond the mere biological boundaries of the human species. He argues that the human being is not an isolated spiritual entity but is organic to the material world, a ‘microcosm’ that summarises creation. Therefore, when the Word of God assumed human nature, He did not merely assume the flesh of one species but, by implication, took upon Himself the material element that links humanity to the entire nature. Consequently, the Incarnation is not limited to the salvation of humanity alone but signifies that the whole of material creation is ‘assumed’ in order to be saved from corruption and death. ²⁷ Then, in the event of incarnation, we can say, Christ fulfils cosmic redemption not by being incarnate in universal materiality but by assuming the human corporeality which encompasses cosmic materiality. The salvific incarnation of Christ extends to the cosmic redemption of the entire created world through assuming the microcosmic human being. ²⁸ Therefore, ‘Precisely because the salvation of material creation depends on humankind, in order to save the world from corruption and death, the Son and Word of God becomes human. . . . The aim of the Incarnation of the Word is not limited to man but extends to all of creation.’ ²⁹ This cosmic vision of Christ’s human incarnation hinges on the microcosmic understanding of the human being created in the image and likeness of God. While the first Adam exploited the world for self-service instead of leading it to communion with God, the second Adam, Christ, through incarnation, fulfils the failed cosmic mediatorial priestly vocation of the first Adam. ‘Christ is called the “second Adam”, or the “last Adam”, and that his work is seen as the “recapitulation” (anakephalaiosis) of all that exists – that is, of all things and of the entire creation.’ ³⁰ For Zizioulas, in contrast to Lynn White’s critique of Christianity as anthropocentric in a pejorative sense, anthropology, in this qualified sense, is unapologetically the foundation of Christology. It can be ‘properly called anthropocentric’ because it is centred indeed upon the anthropic nature of Christ. ³¹

The understanding of the human being as microcosm is complemented and completed by the understanding of the human vocation as mediator in the anthropology of Zizioulas. This dual role underscores humanity’s unique position within creation as both an integral part of the material world and the one through whom creation is oriented toward God.

The second characteristic of humans created in God’s image and likeness is related to the Logos – reason or rationality. Here, rationality doesn’t mean a modern way of thinking, reflection, calculation, or measurement, but the ability to integrate, unite, and harmonise the divided and fragmented. The human being as logikon zoon (rational living being) created in the image and likeness of God has the capacity ‘to collect what is diversified and even fragmented in this world and make a unified and harmonious world (cosmos) out of that disorder (chaos)’ and ‘to achieve the unity of the world and to make a cosmos out of it’. Human beings have ‘the capacity to unite the world’. ³²

While human reason is undoubtedly an important feature of God’s image and likeness, narrowly and oppressively understood reason and rationality emerge as major themes in Zizioulas’s theological genealogical critique of Western modernity. Zizioulas criticises the strong rationalistic view of the imago Dei in Christian theology, which placed reason and intellect in a position of near-ontological supremacy over the body and matter. For Zizioulas, this mindset has diminished the significance of creation’s materiality and ultimately fostered an ‘anti-ecological position’. ³³ This ‘man-centered and reason-dominated’ ³⁴ human superiority is the cause of the ecological crisis. Historically, in Western theological tradition, for Zizioulas, it began with Augustine, continued through Descartes, and culminated in the modern Reformation when it was believed that ‘the imago Dei consists in the reason of man’. ³⁵ This modern rationalistic attitude is still evident today in the ethics-centred approach that only urges changes in activity to overcome the ecological crisis, which contributes to the worsening of the problem rather than its solution. ³⁶ Interestingly, Zizioulas once again draws on the scientific advances of modern biology to criticise Western medieval and modern rationalistic human superiority. Humans share attributes completely with non-human animals on a material level, and animals also possess some degree of reason and intellect, so rationality cannot be a unique attribute of humans. ‘The difference between humans and animals with regard to rationality is’, Zizioulas repeatedly emphasises, ‘purely one of degree, not of kind, as Darwin has convincingly demonstrated.’ ³⁷ ‘The belief in human superiority to the natural world’, therefore, ‘received a blow from Charles Darwin, when he proved that not only humans but also animals, although to a lesser degree, are capable of thinking.’ ³⁸

In an excellent study examining the relationship between Christ’s human incarnation and cosmic salvation including non-human creatures, Kris Huiser points out the limitations of Maximus the Confessor. While Maximus cites rationality as the unique distinctiveness of humans created in God’s image, Huiser mentions scientific research showing that animals also possess reason and intellect to varying degrees. He argues that rationality cannot be a unique characteristic of humans. This exactly matches Zizioulas’s argument mentioned above. ³⁹ However, Zizioulas, then, goes on to suggest: ‘if the human is the image of God, he must be so due to other capabilities than simply his ability to think, and it is these capabilities which we must learn to value’. ⁴⁰ Zizioulas states that the image and likeness of God should not be reduced to reason and intellect, but is more fundamentally characterised by freedom. For Zizioulas, the human role as mediator can, first and foremost, be performed by exercising freedom – a concept deeply embedded in his theology. The image and likeness of God in the human being is understood ‘in the human capacity to be free (autexousios)’. ⁴¹ Here, Zizioulas draws on Gregory of Nyssa to argue that the imago Dei in the human being is ultimately rooted in the capacity for freedom. ⁴² This freedom, however, is not arbitrary or self-serving; rather, it is directed toward communion with God. For Zizioulas, human freedom is understood as a freedom for communion with God – a transcendent reference to and orientation toward the divine. This sort of freedom is not a libertarian freedom, a competitively autonomous and self-realising freedom, but the freedom of Christ in his person and ministry and the freedom in the Augustinian sense of enjoyment, enjoying the ultimate divine reality via using the penultimate reality and thereby elevating the finite reality to an ultimate and eternal dimension. This capacity of freedom for communion reflects a key aspect of humanity’s mediatory vocation: the ability to transcend the limitations of nature and elevate creation toward God. In doing so, humans fulfil their responsibility in the redemption or transfiguration of the entire created order. By exercising their freedom, humans lead the created world into divine communion, embodying their role as mediators. As Zizioulas emphasises, humanity’s unique capacity for freedom enables it to transcend natural limitations and act as a bridge between creation and the Creator. This mediatory role positions the human being as the organic point of connection within the entire created order and the essential link between creation and God.

Eucharistic Anthropology: The Human Being as the Priest of Creation

Humanity’s mediatory role is intimately tied to the microcosmic nature of the human being. Humans, by freely using their microcosmic nature, fulfil their mediatory vocation by uniting the material and spiritual dimensions of creation and orienting them toward God. In this manner, the concepts of microcosm and mediator, by drawing upon both Maximus and Gregory together, ultimately converge in Zizioulas’s understanding of the human being as the ‘priest of creation’. ⁴³ The priestly vocation of humanity, particularly manifest in the eucharistic action of the Church, entails not only representing creation before God but also transforming and sanctifying it through communion with the divine.

In a Eucharistic approach to creation, the human being performs the Christological act of ‘assuming’ creation. This is achieved by acknowledging, in a ‘Darwinian’ sense, that humanity is an organic part of the rest of creation – namely, by an incarnational act in which creation is ‘assumed’ in order to be ‘healed’ by referring creation to the Father as ‘Your own of Your own’. This act transcends the natural limitations of creation and, by sharing it with everyone, turns it into a gift, in the double sense of something received and offered. ⁴⁴

Zizioulas’s vision of humanity as the priest of creation hinges on the exercise of freedom as a mediatory function. This freedom enables humans to act on behalf of the entire created order, offering creation to God in worship and thanksgiving. By doing so, humans fulfil their priestly role, which is to bridge the gap between the material world and the divine. Through this mediatory priesthood, humanity becomes the means by which the entire cosmos is drawn into the redemptive and transformative work of God. The human being, as a microcosm, embodies all the aspects of creation, and as a mediator, leads creation into divine communion.

The priest is the one who freely and – himself an organic part of creation – takes the world in his hands in order to refer it to God, in return bringing God’s blessing on the world. Through this act, creation is brought into communion with God Himself. This is the essence of priesthood, and it is only the human being who can unite the world in his hands in order to refer it to God so that in turn it can be united with God and thus saved and fulfilled. This is so because . . . only the human being is united with creation while at the same time being able to transcend it through freedom. ⁴⁵

The priestly vocation of the human being is enacted primarily in the Eucharistic celebration of the Church, into which the whole creation is brought and sanctified therein. Christ’s cosmic salvific event of incarnation is somehow continued as an ongoing reality through the Eucharistic re-enactment of the Church. The human being now takes a Eucharistic vocation and responsibility for the entire world. As Kallistos Ware suggests, the human being is an animal, and ‘it is a Eucharistic animal, an animal capable of gratitude, endowed with the power to bless God for the creation, an animal that can offer the world back to the Creator in thanksgiving’. ⁴⁶ The human being is, indeed, called ‘homo eucharisticus’ ⁴⁷ as the priest of creation. The human being, as microcosm and mediator, when taking and offering to God the bread and wine that encompass all material creation in the Eucharist, enacts Christ’s incarnational act of assuming and healing the cosmos. The whole creation is assumed, healed, and in communion with God by the human incarnation of Christ and the human Eucharistic enactment of Christ’s incarnation. ⁴⁸

Zizioulas emphasises that this understanding makes humanity indispensable not for profiting from creation but for caring for it. Far from reducing non-human creatures to mere instruments for human salvation, Zizioulas’s sacramental vision inverts this instrumentalist logic. He contends that humanity’s priestly role is not to exploit nature for human benefit but to serve nature’s own need for survival. Creation, being finite and created ex nihilo, cannot survive eternally by its own natural powers; it needs the human being to refer it back to the Creator to overcome its mortality. Thus, the human being serves as the indispensable means for creation’s perfection and eternity, rather than creation serving merely as a backdrop for human salvation. This priestly ‘use’ of the world is not consumption but a creative act of love that liberates nature from the limitations of finiteness. Unlike some modern ecological views that might decentre the human role, Zizioulas sees the human being as crucial for the salvation of the entire cosmos. In this respect, it is noteworthy that the priestly anthropology of the human being as microcosm and mediator of the created world resonates deeply with the contemporary theological anthropology characterised by the ‘relational turn’, which affirms that ‘we are fundamentally relational, not ruggedly individualist, self-asserting, self-aggrandising, self-made or self-sufficient beings’. ⁴⁹ This is because it conceives of both transcendent communion with God and immanent communion with the world on ontological and ethical levels within the great arch of creation and redemption, and within the communal activity of the Church. The Eucharist enacted by the priest of creation as relational being is ‘fundamentally about the relation of humans to the natural world. When this relationship is rightly ordered, destructive appropriations of matter are superseded by uses that may be recreative and transformative.’ ⁵⁰ The anthropological vision presented in the priestly human role embodies what may be called ‘a radically inclusive anthropocentrism’ that ‘is defined so as to include the good of all creatures’. ⁵¹

Conclusion

For Zizioulas, humanity’s unique role as both microcosm and mediator provides the whole theological rationale for interpreting the incarnation as extending beyond individual human salvation to the restoration of all creation. The nature and vocation of the human being as microcosm and mediator enacts Christ’s incarnation in the eucharistic offering. The whole creation is assumed, healed, and is in communion with God by the human incarnation of Christ and the human eucharistic enactment of Christ’s incarnation. Zizioulas emphasises that this understanding renders humanity indispensable for creation.

Zizioulas’s anthropological vision connects the Nicene Creed’s affirmation of Christ’s incarnation ‘for us humans and for our salvation’ to a universal and cosmic ecological horizon. The Nicene Creed’s declaration of Christ’s incarnation ‘for us humans and for our salvation’, according to the ecological imagination of John Zizioulas, can be understood as an event and process of salvation for the entire cosmos. Zizioulas’s insights align with these broader ecumenical efforts, particularly through his emphasis on the eucharist as a locus of cosmic redemption. The eucharist, as Zizioulas envisioned it, embodies not only cosmic salvation but also ethical responsibility, providing the church with a profound theological response to the ecological crisis. This liturgical act reaffirms the Church’s priestly role in creation care and provides a spiritual foundation for ethical action, allowing the Church to more fully embody its role as a steward of creation.

To conclude, the incarnation of Christ, ‘for us humans and for our salvation’, can be understood as an event oriented not only toward the redemption of humanity but also toward the redemption of the cosmos – of ‘all things visible and invisible’ – if it is understood through a materially and ethically charged theological anthropology in a Eucharistic setting. The redemptive and salvific efficacy of Christ initiates a decisive beginning in his human incarnation for us humans and for our salvation. This incarnation is revealed as a cosmic and universal event through the microcosmic nature and mediatorial vocation of the human being. Moreover, the radical universality of redemption – for all things visible and invisible – is enacted and made manifest in the Eucharistic action. It is therefore fitting that the Nicene Creed is recited or sung, first and foremost, within the communal enactment of the Eucharist. ‘While there is more to Nicene Christianity than the eucharist’, as George Hunsinger notes, ‘the eucharist is central to Nicene Christianity. That is because Nicene Christianity begins and ends in worship.’ ⁵² The Eucharist is thus not a set of words that should have been added to the Creed in the past, but rather the communal context that continually includes the Creed within its own structure – now and forever. This may offer a meaningful way to celebrate the anniversary of the Nicene Creed in order to convey the significance of the work of Christ for human salvation in the age of ecological crisis.