You have only to pick up a newspaper or turn on a television to see that the scientific name for human kind lacks something as a descriptor. Homo sapiens. Wise (or rational) man. Yeah, right.
As it happens, there are a number of other candidate descriptors – some serious; some not so much.
A species name should be something unique to the species; some identifying characteristic that sets that species apart from others. Felix domesticus is the domestic cat. Dendrobates azureus, a certain type of tree frog, is blue tree walker.
So what are our identifying characteristics as a species?
In God’s image
Another way of asking the same question is: in what way are we in the image of God? (Genesis 1: 26 ‘God said, Let us make man in our image, after our likeness’.)
Clearly, physical characteristics don’t count – God is pure spirit. Although we repeatedly recreate God in our image, this doesn’t tell us anything about the defining characteristics that set us apart from other species, but not apart from our Creator.
Creativity, aesthetics, language, and laughter all seem to be good candidates.
We have only to look around at the sheer joyful profligacy of the natural world to see that God is creative; and creativity seems to be built into us, showing up as soon as we are old enough to start decorating ourselves and our environment. Homo creator? But other animals use tools, and other animals make things. It’s impossible to say whether they enjoy doing so, but it does seem that they only do so when they have another end in view. An ape tears a stick to the right length in order to insert it in a termite mound and extract breakfast. A bower bird spends hours creating an ornate pattern in order to attract a mate. People make things for the sheer pleasure of creation. The creative impulse seems to be more highly developed in our species; so highly developed that creation itself becomes a motivator. But undoubtedly the seeds of the impulse are found in other species.
Aesthetics is another suggested separator, which would make us homo aestheticus. God saw the world he had made, and it was good. We take pleasure in beautiful things to see, to hear, to taste, to smell, and to touch. Is this our unique characteristic? We see in other animals a pleasure in sights, sound, tastes, smells, and touch that we would call aesthetic if the perceiver were human. More highly developed in humans? Perhaps so. But again, not unique.
The hominid that talks?
For a long time, the ability to communicate was suggested as the strongest difference between us and the rest of creation. Communication is a clear characteristic of God, and a powerful human drive. Are we homo loquens – talking man? But two types of research have narrowed the gap with the other animals. On the one hand, animals have been taught to understand human languages, and even to communicate in a human language (sign). On the other, animal studies have shown that complex messages are passed between animals of the same species, and some messages are even understood across species. We have a spoken language that is (mostly) under our voluntary control, but this is still a matter of degree rather than type.
What about homo ridens, the animal that laughs? That God has a sense of humour most believers know. But so do dogs and other domestic animals (ask anyone who owns donkeys).
Other contenders are homo amans – humans as loving agents, or homo generosus – generous man. Christians have always claimed love to be a defining characteristic of God. And certainly it is a defining characteristic of the humans at their best. But unique? I don’t think so.
The meaning seekers
I like homo poetica – the hominid that searches for meaning and significance. This is certainly a strong identifier of humankind. The search for meaning and significance has built societies and civilisations. As a scientific name, it works. But it doesn’t fit the other criterion; it doesn’t describe how we are in the image of God.
But there is one more way that we are like God and unlike any other animal. We are the animal – the only animal – that tells stories. And so does God. We see this pre-eminently in the public life of Jesus. He didn’t content himself with saying ‘do this,’ or ‘this means that’. Instead, he told stories that carried the message people needed to hear. We’re still mining those stories for meaning 2000 years later. But God has been telling stories all the way through history. Much of the Old Testament comprises events carefully selected and structured to become stories for future generations. And for 2000 years, when the Church needed a new way of doing things, or a reminder of an old way, God has sent us a saint to be a living story, showing us the lesson we need to learn.
To my mind, we are homo narans, the storytelling hominid. What do you think?
Superb post again JP!
Where do you get them all from?
‘Homo narans’.
Burrito laughs.
Two trains of thought collide and occasionally there is a spark.
Do you like the laughing donkey picture?
The short answer is that we don’t know [whether the roles of men and women deacons were different in the early Church]. An educated guess is that some functions – say visiting and taking Communion to the sick – were the same for both sexes, while some would have been different: one could compare the functions of male and female police officers.
There is no good (as distinct from mischievous) reason for confusing the diaconate (male or hypothetically – or historically – female) with the priesthood, the distinguishing function of which is the offering of the Sacrifice of the Mass.
De facto, and hand-in-hand with the further and higher education of women in society generally, women already now perform far more offices in the Church than was the case in my childhood: then mainly cleaning and flower-arranging. (A time when some considered a menstruating woman should not be allowed in the Sanctuary.)
Re-opening the office of Permanent Deacon (diakonos) to women would be a proper recognition of their by-now-indispensable roles – and being seen as a “vocation”, would most probably encourage more to respond.
I would ask you, Joyful Papist, to take this seriously, as I realize you are serious and level-headed in your efforts on behalf of the needs of the contemporary Church.
Pangelingua, I do take it seriously. I am frustrated by the level of debate on this topic – continually recycling the same arguments for and against women’s ordination instead of focusing on the question that JPII and now BXVI have asked us to consider. I want to be part of the debate successive HFs have called for – what is the specific charism of women as a gender? We know a man ordained to the priesthood can stand in persona Christi; we can deduce that a woman, under certain circumstances, can stand in the person of the Church. What does this mean in practice? What are the ministerial services women can offer? What does JPII mean by prophetic charism?
[…] stuff. As those who’ve followed this blog for a while know, I’ve suggested (slightly tongue in cheek, but my recent readings around AI (artificial intelli… – that our identifying characteristic as an animal is our ability to make sense of our […]