From David S. Cunningham, “The Way of All Flesh: Rethinking the Imago Dei,” in Creaturely Theology, ed. Celia Deane-Drummond and David Clough (London: SCM Press, 2009).
In the first stage of my argument, I want to raise some questions about the definitive distinction between human beings and other animals that seems to be presumed within many theological accounts of the created order. … such distinctions are commonplace in the history of Christian theology; in fact, so obvious does this distinction seem to many theological commentators that they simply never bother to argue the case. We might hypothesize that, in this line of inquiry as in so many others, the theological imagination is often easily overwhelmed by empirical data and by the cultural assumptions under which it operates. In short, human beings are assumed to be radically different from other animals because they look different, they act different, and they are treated differently. These same indicators are among those that have been used, over the centuries, to render poor theological judgements about the various races and ethnicities, and the divide between gay and straight people. In all these cases, empirical and cultural judgements were used to bolster, falsely, a claim that a significant theological distinction existed between, for example, men and women. (101)
(emphasis mine)
That’s the rub isn’t it … theologies, thoughts about the eternal, transcendent God are products of a particular cultural location in time and place. Arguments are made that new theology is “just” a product of the current culture when by that same stance traditional theology was also “just” a product of its culture. It’s not as if the “cultural influence” switch got magically turned on after the Reformation, or, in my opinion, wasn’t on when the Biblical writers were writing (stockbreeders describing God as a stockbreeder).
Cunningham goes on to suggest that in light of Darwin, biology, and ethology there should obviously, as opposed to begrudgingly, be a rethinking of much older foundations of the divide between humans and other creatures. I’d add more specifically that when people begin to do theology who aren’t devoted to defending (albeit perhaps unconsciously) a particular traditional behavior - in our case meat eating – Biblical revelation will be allowed to be just that again, revealing.
His argument is that in light of what we know now, we need to take a good hard look at how scripture actually positions humanity in relation to the other creatures God made. He suggests a re-orientation around the Biblical notion and use of the word Flesh as opposed to the phrase Image of God. Image of God turns out to not be terribly helpful primarily because the signified (God the Father), the archetype, is unavailable for direct comparison, making the word Image (as a signifier) tricky indeed. He does not deny that there is any reservation of the phrase specifically for humanity, only that it might not be as clear cut an issue as it is usually taken to be.
Cunninham goes on to note important testamental differences in the way that the phrase “Image of God” is used. The word Flesh, however, is used in a more consistent way across both the Old and New Testaments. In the Torah, Image of God is only used three times (Gen 1:26-27, Gen 5:1, Gen 9:6) and is used in reference to humans in general. In the New Testament, however, the phrase is used more frequently and “its center of gravity is not on human beings in general but on Christ as ‘the image of the invisible God’ (Col. 1:15; John 1:18, 14:8-9; 2 Cor. 4:4; Heb 1:3).” (107) Essentially the theme of the NT is that Christ is the new Adam. Beginning with Christ, there is a new standard for image of God and it’s not us by default … Christ now carries it and the only way to get it back is through him. We cannot look at ourselves as the image of God unless we see Christ reflected through us. Thus he concludes “Image of God” is not rightly a means by which Christians can presumptively contrast ourselves to other creatures, our gaze must not be merely horizontal, but in a Christological sense, must be the way by which all creatures (all flesh) are seen in light of Jesus. Our gaze must always be lifted towards our Lord. As a Christian I must consider myself among the subjects of Jesus’ reconciliatory work in the world, for the whole created order, and not as the sole (soul) focus of it. (that was a freebie)
We might suggest the following analogy: relying on Aristotle’s arguments about the special place of humanity within creation would be similar to claiming that the reason that we know that God cares more for the earth than for the other planets is because everything revolves around the earth, just as Ptolemy told us. … We can generalize the point to some degree, and make the following claim: a shift in scientific thinking need not require us to create a new argument based on new science; but it may well behoove us to stop basing our arguments on the old science. And this may lead us to observe that we had perhaps been relying rather too heavily upon manifestly a-theological or anti-theological accounts to buttress our (supposedly) theological arguments. … [Newer theological arguments] should force us to ask why we had been so captivated by the older forms in the first place. (103)