Genesis 1:26-28, John 13:31-35
I wonder where it is that you have learnt to be a human being? To be a person?
I mean it is not as if there is a licence for it. No doubt your family of origin played a big part, but the whole of life can feel like falling from one test into the next as we learn about what it means to be human.
The question of what it means to be human has become even more pronounced in the last few years with the rise of large language models and generative artificial intelligence. In an age when machines can imitate language, generate images, and mimic aspects of creativity, the question is not simply what artificial intelligence can do, but what it means for us to remain human
In this rapidly changing world, how can we remember our humanity as we learn to be persons made in the image of God
In the movie Dead Poet’s Society. John Keating, the teacher played by Robin Williams says to his students:
We don't read and write poetry because it's cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion... poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for.
Maybe in reading poetry, in listening to music, and in the stories that we tell each other, this is how we learn to be human.
As I was contemplating exploring this theme, I recalled a wonderful song by Rag’n’Bone Man simply called “Human”. The chorus repeats the refrain of the limitation of our humanity:
I'm only human after all.
Don't put the blame on me.
Being human means realising that we are all imperfect beings. Yet, this sense of the limitation and frailty of our humanity, especially in our relationships with one another, can cause us to withdraw as if it were better to do this thing called ‘life’ alone.
In my younger years I was drawn to Simon and Garfunkel’s song “I am a rock” which painted a bleak vision of human existence lived in isolation.
I’ve built walls
A fortress steep and mighty
That none can penetrate
I have no need for friendship
Friendship causes pain
It’s laughter and its loving I disdain.
Maybe the attraction of that song was fed by the fact of more introverted and my mental health at the time. But I wonder too how the lyrics of the song feed into forgetting what it means to be truly human.
In contrast to Simon and Garfunkel, John Donne wrote these insightful words in 1624
No man is an island entire of itself; every man
is a piece of the continent, a part of the main
No person is an island; no one is a rock. I think Donne’s insight takes us all the way back to the words of Genesis.
So, God created humans in his image,
in the image of God, he created them;
male and female, he created them.
Whilst the Hebrew word for image here does indicate something like a statue, I think what is going on here takes us well beyond any physical form. To be created in God’s image is to be created as relational beings, God created them, male and female. Human are beings made for relationship for communion.
This idea of communion is an intimate sharing of life with God, with one another, and with the creation itself. It is life with others, life received as love and expressed as unconditional love. If God is love, as the author of the letter of 1 John asserts, then to be made in God’s image is to be made to be loved; to share love; to love one another. Genesis goes on to say:
And, God blessed them …. God blessed them …
What does it mean that God blessed them?
In an age of AI, productivity, loneliness, and comparison, we are tempted to define persons by usefulness, intelligence, or success. This means that we often confuse blessing with favourable circumstances like health, wealth, happiness, security, or a life going to plan. But in Genesis, blessing is not first a reward for success. Blessing begins with God’s delight in the creature. It is God’s “yes” spoken over human life.
Discovering what it means to be human means remembering that every person bears the image of God before they are useful, successful, safe, happy, or well. Their value does not rise and fall with their circumstances. Their value is not determined by the colour of their skin, the language they speak, their gender or sexuality, or any other marker that we might use to divide ourselves from each other. God has made us and seen that we are good; we are worthy to be loved.
If Genesis tells us that humanity is made in the image of God, then Christ shows us what that image looks like in flesh and blood. This God, who is love, in whose image we are made, has been made visible for us through the incarnation when the Word became flesh in the person Jesus of Nazareth. I love the way the theologian Kathryn Tanner summarises what God is up to in the incarnation. “In the final analysis, God does not so much want something of us as want to be with us.”
The great thinker of the early church Athanasius wrote that “Christ became what we are so that we might become what he is.” The emphasis of Athanasius can drive us to think that being human, being a person, is about being drawn beyond our embodied life towards the hidden mystery of God’s divine life. But what if, as well as this, when the Word becomes flesh and lives among us, our embodied, fleshy, earthly existence is not bypassed but affirmed, healed, and drawn into God’s life?
Linn Marie Tonstad puts it this way. “Christianity is a story about God’s incarnation, the making holy of the body, in which each person is the object of God’s care, attention, and love.” So it is that throughout Jesus’ life and ministry God’s love is made visible, no longer abstract and distant.
Jesus feeds the crowd, Jesus casts out the demons, Jesus heals those who are sick, Jesus restores people to their communities, Jesus teaches others about God, Jesus forgives those who do not appear worthy of forgiveness. And Jesus invites people to follow him.
Jesus instructs his disciples to live out their lives sharing in this love saying, “Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another.” Remember the old song “they will know we are Christians by our love”. Love is not an optional virtue; it is the visible sign of life in Christ. To be a person in the image of God and to grow as a lifelong disciple of Christ means to be turned outward in love towards others.
This means that every person we meet is someone whose body, story, and life are held in the love of God. But more than that, it is also about the people we do not meet, those who are distant and unknown to us. To remember how to be a person is to remember those whom the world forgets and those who we see as other. Tonstad suggests that “Christianity is about a message of radical, boundary-destroying love.”
Returning to the poem by John Donne he says:
“Any man’s death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind.”
Or to make it more 21st century
“Any person’s death diminishes me, because I am involved in all humanity.”
If it is in our being human that God’s “yes” is declared over us, then we should also remember this: if every person is equally loved by God, then the person living homelessly in a Brisbane park, the person running away from domestic violence, the person in a bomb shelter, the person under rubble, the person fleeing war, the person grieving after flood or fire, is not less blessed, less valued, or less held by God than the person whose life appears secure and prosperous.
So, in an age of AI, productivity, loneliness, and comparison, we may be tempted to define persons by usefulness, intelligence, efficiency, or success. But Genesis speaks a deeper word: every person bears the image of God. Every person is blessed before they are useful, successful, safe, happy, or well.
And in Christ, that image is made visible. The Word becomes flesh. God’s love is not abstract or distant, but embodied, particular, compassionate, and near. Jesus shows us that to be human in the image of God is to be turned outward in love. More than that, it is in meeting the needs of others that we meet Jesus, and in meeting Jesus in the other we experience the divine.
Remember what Jesus says in Matthew 25:
For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me.’
When Jesus is speaking to his disciples, he does not say, “By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you are cleverer, faster, more efficient, or more impressive.” He says, “By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.”
Remembering to be a person is about moving beyond our amnesia: remembering that to be a person is not to be an isolated individual, but to be made in the image of the God who is love — embodied, relational, and called into communion: intimate life shared with one another, with the creation, and with God. The image of God is love, revealed in Christ, lived in communion.
I wonder where it is that you have learnt to be a human being? To be a person?
And I wonder how your life as a disciple of Christ is shaping that?