A Word on Anthropology
Anthropology means, most basically, the study of people, usually with reference to their development along cultural or biological lines. In theology, anthropology refers to the study of people as we relate to God, including the ways in which we are similar/different from God, our origins, and how we ought to view and treat our bodies. Like every field of theology, it ends up being controversial, in part because theology seems to naturally draw controversy and controversialists. A few days ago, one Jonathan Merritt tweeted out a note about where he starts in his own anthropology. People argued back and forth, because of course they did, and little, if anything, was accomplished.
Frankly, I don’t care for Merritt or his views. He comes off, to me, as another guy who got disillusioned with a “conservative” version of Christianity and found the same audience every other person who’s done the same did. People like him bore me, not in the least because so much of what they say is vapid and indistinguishable from people who’ve been dead for centuries. Pelagius, Socinus, Schleiermacher and others may have been wrong in various ways, but at least they were somewhat novel. All that said, I’m not really interested in lambasting Merritt and even if I were, somebody’s probably said everything I would say anyway, making my complaint about novelty somewhat ironic. What I’m more interested in is the question of where one roots their anthropology and why that matters. With that said, onward!
A Good Starting Point
Genesis 1 is probably as good a starting point for one’s anthropology as I can think of, in no small part because it answers a major question of the discipline straight away. “Where did man come from? ‘Well, God made us, in His own image, male and female.” That’s hardly advanced, but it is foundational, so much so that you can build a great deal from it. Further, to say that we were created good is only to affirm what it clearly said in Scripture. Rooting your view of man in Genesis 1 makes sense. In fact, I think it’s a good and right thing. The problem comes with roots and what they entail.
Roots imply growth, and are often a vast network, especially once you start examining the root systems of larger plants and trees. Roots imply depth, reaching into the unseen parts of the soil, drawing up all that is needed to keep a plant alive. A single, shallow root won’t keep a plant alive and it won’t hold firm when efforts are made to supplant it. Also, roots spread from where you first set them. To root your anthropology in Genesis 1 necessitates that the system eventually spreads beyond Genesis 1. The problem is that it doesn’t take much after Genesis 1 for things to go wrong.
Spreading Roots
In Genesis 1, and even 2, man is good, having been created, blessed, and commissioned by God for the judicious and fruitful stewardship of the place in which he was made. In Genesis 3, a serpent is introduced, and most know where the story goes from there. The woman is deceived into eating the fruit, the man follows after her, and God pronounced a curse on both man and woman that continues to have effects even to this day. Genesis 3 is a great place for the roots of anthropology to spread into and draw nourishment from, because the passage answers another major question: “What is man’s misery, and why is he afflicted thereby?” Because of sin, man is separated from God and must face death, knowing that the whole journey forward will be more difficult than it ever had to be.
In Genesis 3, things fundamentally and radically change for all of mankind after Adam. Where there was flourishing and communion with God, there is death and separation. Where there was clear purpose and fulfillment, there is confusion and despair. One could go on, but we see the results of Genesis 3 build in Genesis 4. One generation was all that it took for man to go from fairly simple rebellion, the kind that we’d expect from children today, to fratricide. From there we see depravity grow, to the point that God decides to purge the earth with water. A chosen few, along with a host of animals, are spared and one would think that’s the end of the nightmare. The trouble is, of course, that it seems that depravity followed Noah and his family onto the ark. It’s almost as if it was a part of who they were.
That Pesky “Augustinian” Notion
People tend to bristle at the idea of notions of original sin or total/radical depravity. Some object because they think it’s unfair or even because they insist that it necessitates infants being condemned (a notion that Augustine at least disputed and Calvin called an intolerable blasphemy, but that’s not the point). Some just don’t like the idea that they end up having to deal with the consequences of, as they see it, someone else’s mistakes. It’s not fair, they suggest, that we should have to be a certain way simply because Adam messes things up. Some are content to blame Augustine and be done with the whole idea. The problem is, of course, that you have to eventually answer the question of why people can’t get away from sin.
An Uncomfortable Assertion
In Matthew 15:19–20, Jesus makes an alarming claim, seated in the context of a discussion on ceremonial uncleanliness and tradition surrounding washing up before eating. The immediate point is that even if it’s a good idea to wash your hands, traditions are a poor substitute for doing what is actually commanded by God. Past the immediate point is a sobering reminder. “For from the heart come evil thoughts, murders, adulteries, sexual immoralities, thefts, false testimonies, slander.” (CSB) Those things don’t work their way in and then come back out; they start at the inside and burst forth. Of course, one can rightly object that Jesus doesn’t comment on how precisely those things got there to start with, but the functioning point of origin is clearly stated. To put it another way, the heart of the problem is the problem of the heart. The simple fact is, no amount of debate over nature vs. nurture changes the fact that you’ll never meet a kid that you need to teach to be selfish. No one has to learn how to lust. Anger is a feature, not a bug and it doesn’t take extensive training to figure out how to be angry in godless ways. We hate the notion, but however you posit that we got this way, we’re a wretched lot, sinners to the one. To quote someone more qualified than I am, and who was himself quoting other qualified persons, “As it is written: There is no one righteous, not even one. There is no one who understands; there is no one who seeks God. All have turned away; all alike have become worthless. There is no one who does what is good, not even one. Their throat is an open grave; they deceive with their tongues. Vipers’ venom is under their lips. Their mouth is full of cursing and bitterness. Their feet are swift to shed blood; ruin and wretchedness are in their paths, and the path of peace they have not known. There is no fear of God before their eyes.” (Romans 3:10–18)
To Briefly Conclude
There’s much more that could be said about the depravity of man, both in extolling its extent and discerning its origins. What I think is beyond dispute can be summarized thusly:
Whether we like it or not, we have to deal with depravity because we have to deal with ourselves and those around us as we actually are, not as we could have been had Genesis 1 been the final word.
Saying that you root your anthropology in Genesis 1 is well and good. Never letting your anthropology develop beyond Genesis 1 is a surefire way to reveal that your roots are shallow and dying, along with whatever plant they’re supposed to support.
Anthropology is not the end of theology, nor is it the beginning. Good theology must start with God and end with the same. Anything else is, at best, psychology with a minor in religious studies.
To close, I really don’t want to drag Merritt, or anyone else, through the mud. Chiefly, that’s because it accomplishes little beyond personal satisfaction and it doesn’t move the conversation forward. Instead, for the sake of hopefully advancing clear and helpful discussion, dear reader, I’d suggest that you take a look at Romans 5:12–21. Read and reread that passage, and then start to wade into what others have said about it. You’ll find out that debates over anthropology get wild sometimes. More importantly, you’ll discover that the greatest discovery of theological anthropology is very simple, even though it has massive implications for what it means to be human: where Adam failed, Christ prevailed. Wherever precisely one roots their anthropology, the roots must nourish the blossoms of that glorious truth.