"WHAT ARE HUMAN BEINGS?"
by Dr. Carl Schultz, Houghton College
The eighth psalm confronts us with a profound question: "What are human beings that you are mindful of them, mortals that you care for them?" (Psalm 8:4)
It is raised, as we will subsequently note, in the context of surprise and amazement that God is cognizant of humans. Here in Psalm 8 such divine attention is viewed as flattering but in the book of Job where the same question is raised (Job 7:17) the man Job is distressed that God is so aware of him. Little did he know, given the narrative at the beginning of the book, the extent of that divine focus. Perhaps none of us are fully cognizant of God's attending awareness.
This question of Psalm 8 is located in the context of the physical world. Psalm 8 is a night liturgy, reference only being made to the night sky, against which vastness the worshipper feels insignificant. Given that humans are related to and assessed by way of the universe (so here and in Genesis 1) it is appropriate that we turn to science and raise the question "What are human beings . . .?" to which query we find an array of answers. A human is:
These are significant responses which have enabled scientists to contribute to our physical well-being and to the improvement of our living conditions by effecting advances in medicine and technology. Such responses are not to be minimized or trivialized.
Such biological explanations ought to be most acceptable to Christians, given the positive attitude that the Bible has towards the body, even designating it as the temple of the Holy Spirit. Further this psalm is understood by the writer of Hebrews to refer to the incarnation when he said Jesus was a partaker of flesh and blood (Hebrews 2:6-18). Jesus, identified with humans, is the ultimate answer to the question "What are human beings?" While Gnosticism has denied the body and Asceticism has punished it neither of these approaches finds sanction in the Bible.
Science in its biological aspects illumines extensively our creatureliness which is a God-given aspect of our being. It is not by chance that the first human was known as Adam since the text underscores that he came from adamah -- from reddish-brown loose earth -- the same substance from which all animals ("every living thing," Genesis 2:19) was formed. Adamah represents the origin, life, and destiny of humans. While in one sense humans are apart from nature, there is this emphatic sense in which they are a part of nature.
Now while the answers of science are significant, they are clearly inadequate -- inadequate because scientific inquiry can only investigate the interrelations between finite events. Such answers do not provide a total understanding of humans in all the dimensions of their existence. Science is an intellectual endeavor to explain life, informed by empirical investigation and carried out by a community trained in specialized techniques. Not all types of questions can be answered by recourse to science.
I repeat, inadequate, not because there is a deficiency in science, but because science studies by empirical methods finite causes.
As such a scientific approach is non-theological but it need not be antitheological.
To rule out God's activity because it cannot be a part of the scientific explanation as to what humans are is to draw a philosophical conclusion which is not part of the scientific hypothesis. Science can no more establish the absence of God from the universe than it can certify his presence in the biology laboratory.
Dr. Carver, late in life, was asked by some writer what he thought was the most indispensable thing for science in the modern age. Carver replied, "The capacity for awe."
Science can provide us with a descriptive picture but must guard against reductionism. When the scientist abandons his scientific role and extrapolates from the explanation of scientific inquiry the philosophical doctrine which maintains that only finite causes are at work, that nature is self-sufficient and provides the sole source and environment for humans, she is guilty of reductionism. The naturalism that denies the category of the divine is not a part of science but a philosophical extension of it.
To reduce humans to a vast assembly of nerve cells and the associated molecules and thereby claim to have fully explained humans is to over-apply and to overstate the data of science. To characterize the development of humans as a product of blind fate, an accident, a child of chance and thereby eliminate God goes beyond the realm of science and does not address the basic question of life. There is in humans a dimension which escapes the formulas of science since they in this dimension create science.
But this inadequacy is not only due so much to the nature of science but also the nature of the question. "What are human beings?" is not so much an intellectual one -- is not so much a matter of curiosity -- is not so much a problematic question. Rather it is a question of mystery and marvel. "What are human beings that you are mindful of them . . .?" A question of mystery is not satisfied with logical tidiness. It eludes our intellectual grasp because it grasps us.
"What are human beings?" is the question that arises when we struggle with life and find no purpose and meaning.
In its Hebrew context -- in the Hebrew milieu -- it is cast in the third person, but in our society with its individual emphasis the question is often rendered "Who am I?" It needs also to be noted that this is not the question of a disinterested spectator but an existentially involved participant.
Martin Marty observes there are four basic questions in the late modern world:
Who am I?
To whom do I belong?
By what shall I live?
How can I protect myself?
When we ask "What are human beings?", "Who am I?" we are not simply addressing the biological and the anthropological but we are struggling with the theological.
Owen Gingerich, professor of the history of science and astronomy at Harvard University observes, "One consequence of this self-consciousness is that we ponder our place in the universe, and we seek to find meaning and to find God. The search for God is subtle, but perhaps it is this long journey, this search, more than anything else, that makes us human. We are the thinking part of this vast and sometimes very intimidating universe, and our quest could well be the purpose of it all."
Confronted with the horror of vastness -- a vastness known even in the Hebrew Bible where the stars are compared to the grains of sand on the seashore -- to be sure exceedingly restricted in comparison to our awareness of the vastness of the universe since the Psalmist has no knowledge of the immensity of space or of unthinkable distances measured in light years -- we wonder about our role and often feel alien. Do we count at all? Do we have any significance at all?
And so not surprisingly we turn to Psalm 8 in our struggles of identity and purpose. Psalm 8 is not a scientific response. It is a hymn -- an evening hymn -- a vesper song. It is an expression of faith -- an act of worship -- a moment of praise. It takes place in the temple, not the laboratory. It springs from the soul rather than the mind. It is wonderment, not wondering. It is awe, not assessment. It is exaltation not experimentation. It is affirmation not analysis. It is celebration, not curiosity.
Psalm 8 is anthropology in the context of doxology.
As Weiser notes: "There is no revelation of God except it also throws at the same time a special light on the nature of man; and conversely, a true understanding of man cannot be achieved if God is disregarded."
The biblical view of God is critical to our understanding of the identity of human beings. Anthropology is an essential element of theology. Man-talk and God-talk are closely related and only possible as they are related one to the other. Themes such as sin, grace, faith, redemption, and the church must not only be viewed from the God-side, but also from the human side. While God is absolute in the Old Testament, he revealed his Godness through his contact with humans in words and deeds. In the incarnation in the New Testament he is completely defined.
Now this is not to suggest that the human being is the measure of all things. Anthropocentric concerns must not so dominate theology that its focus is the nature of the human being, rather than the character of God. But there is real danger when the consideration of anthropology is pursued in isolation--quite apart from theology. It is critical that anthropology be considered from a biblical prospective. Human preoccupation results in narcissism. The question "What are Human Beings" must be answered biblically.
As Martin Buber has observed it is difficult, if not impossible, to derive dignity, to derive an ought if the relationship is an I/it rather than an I/Thou. Human beings can be defined somewhat by reference to the animal kingdom but ultimately only adequately identified by reference to their relationship to God.
Four critical affirmations are made in this psalm relative to the question "What are human beings?"
First, human beings are God-made. This affirmation is given in the simplest way. It is unexplained, unadorned, and unqualified. Psalm 8 is no more concerned with how God created humans than is Genesis 1.
Not only did God make humans he also made the world. Reference is made metaphorically to the immensity and the intricateness of creation by mentioning God's hand, suggesting power, and to his fingers, suggesting dexterity.
The Bible resorts to metaphoric language when describing Gods creative activity. He is viewed as a craftsman such as a potter (Genesis 2:7), a weaver (Job 10:11), and a cabinetmaker (Job 10:8).
But all these are images, are analogies and are not to be pressed in a literal fashion. The metaphors of scripture are clearly not the descriptive language of science.
Regardless of how humans were made they are ultimately and finally God-made.
The second affirmation is that human beings are measured -- measured against the vastness of the universe. If the psalmist, depending on his unaided eyes, senses smallness how much truer today with our awareness of countless solar systems and billions of stars?
No wonder that the text here reads "Mortals that you care for them." The Hebrew word rendered "mortals" means "weaklings." Measured against the magnificence of the world, humans quickly become aware of their meagerness. Measured against the age and stability of the hills, humans become aware of their brevity and transience.
Such an awareness is critical for humans to locate their place in the world. There must not be any inflated sense of priority or importance. Pascal observed: "By space the universe encompasses and swallows me up like an atom; by thought I comprehend the world."
Being God's final creative act could cause mortals to over-estimate their importance. The Jewish Midrash helps to check an inflated realization by reminding us that God too used the expression TGIF. After all, he had worked industriously all week. Now fatigued and stuck with a lot of odds and ends, he produced humans as a cook makes soup at the point of cleaning and emptying the refrigerator.
St. Paul also contributes to a realistic measurement by emphasizing that God's redemptive acts are not limited to humans but extended to all creation (Romans 8:18-26).
The third affirmation is humans are magnified. Indeed we are weaklings -- mere mortals but God has "crowned us with glory and honor." This psalm stresses the two opposite poles of human lowness and human height. Human greatness is conferred -- is God-conferred. Any consideration of humans that ignores this conferred dimension is inadequate. To measure only native insignificance -- human's animal side -- is to underestimate and distort human worth and being.
God has made humans a little lower than himself. Indeed, this is a significant and staggering reality not just related to the animal kingdom but also related to God himself!
As Weiser observes:
. . . . face to face with God man becomes aware of the total insignificance of his existence. When man gazes up at the illimitable expanse of the heavens studded with stars, the difference between God and man is revealed in all its magnitude, and the wholly contradictory quality of that difference is made manifest. The finite is confronted with the infinite, the transient with the eternal, the perpetual sorrows and anxieties of man, who constantly goes astray, with the peace, steadiness and order manifested by the heavenly bodies which run their prescribed course. . . . It is only if man stands in awe of the greatness of God, which strikes terror into his heart and makes him aware of his total insignificance, that, taking that awe as a starting-point and as the basis of his thoughts, he learns to gain a full understanding of the divine miracle which is made manifest in the relationship between Creator and creature, the miracle namely that it did not seem too small a matter for this Almighty God 'to be mindful' of man and lovingly 'to care' for him. As soon as man comes to realize his total insignificance in the sight of God from whom he cannot demand anything, he clearly recognizes that the innermost nature of his relationship with God is that of an incomprehensible grace.
The final affirmation of this psalm is that humans are God-mandated to exercise dominion over the animals. As per Genesis 1 humans are not given dominion over vegetation (such dominion is assigned the sun -- Genesis 1:16). Humans clearly have little if any control over the physical world. Yet the psalmist concludes: "You have placed all things under his feet."
Any dominion exercised by humans is in fact a trust, a stewardship, for which alone the creator is to be praised. Humans are only masters of the world as they recognize their utmost dependence on the creator.
There is a danger to humans being created in God's image. As Terrien observes:
The conqueror of the forces of nature has not been capable of overcoming evil within himself. Created in the image of God, man is sufficiently like God to believe that he is a god and thus becomes an idolater of himself. He no longer asks in wonder and humility, "What is man that thou art mindful of him?" He does not even acknowledge any more that his dominion over nature is a responsibility entrusted to him by the lord of nature. He courts self-destruction by indulging in self-congratulations.
The image of God which we bear is legitimate and controlled dominion over nature. The image of God is not simply privilege but responsibility. Anderson expresses it this way:
The concept of man's dominion over nature is revolutionary when measured against ancient religions which declared that the gods were natural powers and that man's life was embraced within the mysterious depth of nature, with its rhythmic cycles of fertility. The God of Israel is not a natural power: he transcends the realm of nature, for he is its Creator. And in a lesser sense man, though related to the animals, stands over against nature as the creature who is commissioned to have dominion over the works of God's creation, as one who is the representative or viceregent of God's sovereignty (kingdom) on earth. This emptying nature of divinity has made possible a "scientific" approach to nature as a realm which man can study, explore, and use in the service of God.
This psalm then provides us with a true assessment of humans -- an assessment which begins with native insignificance and then moves to conferred greatness. Both dimensions must be retained if we are to have an answer to the question of our text, "What are human beings that you are mindful of them?" and this vital dimension must be kept within a context established by this psalm which begins and ends with "O Lord, our Sovereign, how majestic is your name in all the earth."