Early Christian philanthropy was deeply informed by the theological concept of the imago Dei, that humans were created in the image of God - a belief that Christianity had taken over from Judaism.

In Jewish religious practice, Yahweh could not be visibly represented in any form (see Deuteronomy 4:15-19). Hence Jews were prohibited from making images, which were characteristic of polytheistic worship. The nature of Yahweh was represented not by pictorial representation, but by the human race. Humans alone could be called the image of Yahweh because in their nature and being they reflected their Creator. The locus classicus of the concept of the imago Dei is Genesis 1:26-7:

"Then God said, 'Let us make humankind in our image, according to our likeness; and let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the birds of the air, and over the cattle, and over all the wild animals of the earth, and over every creeping thing that creeps upon the earth.' So God created humankind in his image, in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them."

The belief that the image of God in humans had implications for the protection of human life in Judaism is suggested in Genesis 9:6, where Yahweh tells Noah, "Whoever sheds the blood of a human, by a human shall that person's blood be shed; for in his own image God made humankind."

According to the Hebrew concept of the person, humans were viewed as a unity rather than in dualistic terms. There were two elements in a person's nature: the "soul" (nephesh) and the "flesh" (basar). The soul was not made to exist apart from the flesh. To destroy the human body was to destroy the human personality, and as such it was an affront to the dignity of Yahweh, whose image (and therefore worth) humans bear. Hence, in Hebrew thought human life possessed intrinsic value by virtue of its divine endowment, in contrast to classical Graeco-Roman thought. The concept of the imago Dei provided the basis for human value that was to become central to Jewish concepts of personhood. As a result features that were common to ancient society (child-sacrifice, exposure of infants, infanticide and emasculation) were not common in Israel.

The Hebrew concept of the imago Dei was carried over to the New Testament. It is found without change, for example, in such passages as James 3:9 and 1 Corinthians 11:7. But the emphasis of the New Testament is soteriological and eschatological - it is concerned with the salvation and ultimate destiny of the fallen human race. In this regard, the doctrine of the Incarnation is the major contribution of the New Testament to the concept of the imago Dei: "And the Word (logos) became flesh (sarx) and lived among us" (John 1:14).

Philanthropia was not a word frequently used by early Christian writers. It is found twice in the New Testament (Acts 28:2; Titus 3:4); in both instances, it means "kindness." The early Christians preferred a different word with a very different meaning: agape, a previously little-used and rather colourless word before it was given specific Christian content. In the New Testament the concept of agape is rooted in the nature of God: "God is love (agape)," writes the Apostle John (1 John 4:8). It was God's love for humankind that brought about the Incarnation (John 3:16). It was Christ's self-sacrificing love that led to his death on the cross as a ransom for humankind's redemption. And this love (agape) was expected to characterize those who professed his name. Hence any response to God was a response to his prevenient love: "We love because first he loved us" (1 John 4:19). In this Christian redefinition, agape was unlimited, freely given, sacrificial and not dependent on the character of its object.

The Christian understanding of the imago Dei, viewed in the light of the doctrine of the Incarnation, was to have four important consequences for practical ethics that became increasingly apparent as Christianity began to penetrate the world of the Roman Empire. Together they represent a radical departure from the social ethics of classical paganism.

The first was the impetus that the doctrine gave to Christian charity and philanthropy. The classical world had no religious or ethical impulse for individual charity. Personal concern for the poor and needy was an important theme in the Hebrew Scriptures, which gave rise to the insistence in later Judaism that almsgiving is a duty and even the highest virtue.

This emphasis was appropriated by Christianity and is mentioned often in the pages of the New Testament, where charity is represented as an outgrowth of agape, which is rooted in the nature of God. Just as God loved humans, so they were expected to respond to divine love by extending love to his brother, who bore the image of God (John 13:34-5). Love of God and devotion to Christ provided the motivation for love of others that had its practical outworking in charity (Matthew 25:34-40). Compassion was regarded as a manifestation of Christian love (Colossians 3:12; 1 John 3:17) and an essential element of the Christian's obligation to all people. This is succinctly expressed in the Clementine Homilies, which were written sometime before 380:

"Ye are the image of the invisible God. Whence let not those who would be pious say that idols are images of God, and therefore that it is right to worship them. For the image of God is man. He who wishes to be pious towards God does good to man, because the body of man bears the image of God. But all do not as yet bear his likeness, but the pure mind of the good soul does. However, as we know that man was made after the image and after the likeness of God, we tell you to be pious towards him, that the favour may be accounted as done to God, whose image he is. Therefore it behooves you to give honour to the image of God, which is man--in this wise: food to the hungry, drink to the thirsty, clothing to the naked, care to the sick, shelter to the stranger, and visiting him who is in prison, to help him as you can. And not to speak at length, whatever good things any one wishes for himself, so let him afford to another in need, and then a good reward can be reckoned to him as being pious towards the image of God. And by like reason, if he will not undertake to do these things, he shall be punished as neglecting the image."

The classical concept of philanthropia was not merely insufficient to provide the motivation for private charity, it actively discouraged it. In the Graeco-Roman world, beneficence took the form of civic philanthropy on behalf of the community at large. Christianity, on the other hand, insisted that the love of God required the spontaneous manifestation of personal charity towards one's brothers. So, one could not claim to love God without loving one's brother (1 John 4:20-21); and "Religion that is pure and undefiled before God" is defined in part as caring for "orphans and widows in their distress" (James 1:27).

Yet Christian love was not to be extended merely to fellow Christians, but to neighbours and even enemies. When Jesus was asked, "And who is my neighbour?" he responded by relating the parable of the good Samaritan (Luke10:25-37). When a Jewish man lay on the road from Jerusalem to Jericho, having been attacked by highwaymen and needing medical attention, a Levite and a priest each passed him by and refused to give him assistance, thereby disgracing their own moral standards, which required them to care for their own. While Jews tended to look down on Samaritans, it was a Samaritan who showed himself to be a neighbour in the sense that the wounded man's own countrymen had failed to be: by giving him medical aid.

Glanville Downey maintains that the concept of agape that underlies Jesus's parable marked a radical innovation if we compare it to classical responses that would have been given to the question that was posed by Jesus. In place of a Stoic doctrine of human brotherhood or a definition of the nature of man, it grounded philanthropy in a theological conception that saw human love as reflecting divine love. But it also went beyond Jewish concepts of charity, which was directed inward to one's own community. The novelty of Jesus's teaching was that beneficence extends beyond one's own community. His command was, "Go and do likewise." In several passages in the Gospels Jesus enunciates the pattern of personal charity that was to be incumbent on his followers.

"[F]or 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 (epeskepsasthe), I was in prison and you visited me ... [J]ust as you did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to me." (Matthew 25:35-36, 45)

The verb epeskepsasthe (from episkopein), used in this passage for taking care of the sick is sometimes employed in late classical Greek to describe a physician's visiting a patient.

It is not difficult to see the gap that existed between the classical concept of philanthropia and the Christian idea of agape as an ethical dynamic. Nor is it surprising that philanthropy has been called a peculiarly Christian product. While Christian philanthropy had its roots in Judaism, the concept of agape led to a broadening and deepening of the Jewish impulse, especially in its not being limited to the believing community. By the end of the second century, philanthropia began to appear frequently in the Christian vocabulary, perhaps because it was a word (unlike agape) that pagans could readily understand. It is often used by the church Fathers to describe God's love for humanity as shown in the Incarnation. By the fourth century it came to be used as a synonym for agape in the liturgies of the Greek church.

A second consequence of the doctrine of the imago Dei was that it provided the basis for the belief that every human life has absolute intrinsic value as a bearer of God's image and as an eternal soul for whose redemption Christ died. This belief led to a stern and uncompromising condemnation of pagan morality in all its aspects. Christians viewed its tolerance of the elimination of unwanted human life and of the cruelty shown to those whom society had condemned or abandoned as an indication that Roman society was incurably wicked. They attacked abortion, infanticide, the gladiatorial games and suicide in the strongest possible terms.

Early Christians showed special concern for the protection of unborn and newborn life. Abortion, though occasionally condemned in classical antiquity, was widely practiced, and the foetus, being regarded as part of its mother, enjoyed no legal protection or absolute value until the third century, when it was penalized by a rescript issued under the emperors Septimius Severus and Caracalla between 198 and 211. As early as the second century we find abortion condemned in Christian writings for violating God's handiwork. In the Didache, the aborted foetus is called a "moulded image (plasma) [of God]." In the second-century Apocalypse of Peter abortion is said to corrupt "the work of God who created" it. This theme is reiterated in the numerous examples of denunciation of abortion that are found in the Fathers.

The difference in Christian and pagan attitudes towards abortion reflected a difference in how the foetus was perceived. Pagans considered the victims insignificant; Seneca thought that to drown a newborn was an act of reason, not of anger. To Christians, however, the foetus was not only human but an eternal soul. Abortion was regarded by some as worse than murder. Tertullian explicitly calls abortion homicide:

"For us, indeed, as homicide is forbidden, it is not lawful to destroy what is conceived in the womb while the blood is still being formed into a man. To prevent being born is to accelerate homicide, nor does it make a difference whether you snatch away a soul which is born or destroy one being born. He who is man-to-be is man, as all fruit is now in the seed."

The exposure (or abandonment) of newborn children was also condemned in early Christian writings. Whether or not it was forbidden by law under the Empire - and this is disputed - it was not punished and it was widely practiced and viewed with general indifference. Exposure was attacked by Christians, who viewed it as a crime.

Christians also emphatically condemned suicide, which had been idealized in classical antiquity as a noble means of death. Believing that they ought to endure suffering with the help of God's grace rather than to seek to put an end to their lives, Christians regarded suicide as self-murder. Augustine discusses the matter at length in his City of God, for the most part summarizing the views of early Christian writers. The only serious debate over the propriety of suicide involved cases in which a woman's chastity was in danger, on which Augustine differed from earlier writers. His condemnation of suicide (on the ground that it is homicide and precludes the possibility of repentance) proved to be authoritative in the early church.

A third consequence of the doctrine of the imago Dei was in providing early Christians with a new perception of the body, and indeed of the human personality. Late pagan proponents of asceticism went beyond the earlier Greek concept of askesis, or training of the body. They expressed no admiration or concern for the body - indeed, they were ashamed of it. They looked forward to the day when at death the soul would free itself from matter, which they regarded as evil. The Greek dualism of the body/soul dichotomy was taken over by Gnostics, who wished (like pagan ascetics) to free themselves from their own bodies. But orthodox Christians did not adopt Gnostic or Manichean dualism. Christians generally viewed asceticism as a means of strengthening the body in the struggle against demonic forces, not of mortifying it. It was just at this point that Christian ascetics differentiated themselves from the familiar type of the pagan ascetic.

The dichotomy between the material body and the spiritual soul provided the philosophical basis for the pagan rejection of the Christian doctrine of the Incarnation: How could a spiritual being (God) take on corruptible flesh? For the Christian the Incarnation provided the ground for salvation: the eternal God had become man in order to save the human race through his death and resurrection. By his death the human race gained redemption, by his resurrection eternal life.

A new perception of the body led to the formulation of a novel concept of personhood that provided the theological basis for integrating body and soul in a manner that was unknown to either Platonists or Stoics. Christ served as the exemplar of this integrated personality, combining within himself the two natures of God and man. The Christian conception of Jesus as perfect man contributed to raising the body to a status that it had never enjoyed in paganism. Docetism (the view that Jesus's humanity was apparent rather than real) was an attempt by Gnostics and others to escape the idea, which was repugnant from a traditional pagan or a Gnostic point of view, of a material body being absorbed into the spiritual Godhead, as orthodox theologians posited. In their rejection of Docetism, orthodox Christians insisted that the body was not evil; if the Son of God had assumed a true body ("truly God and truly man") then it must be, like all the material cosmos, good.

In place of the dualism of Greek philosophy Christian doctrine posited a new divide: between the old humanity, in which both body and soul were tinctured by original sin, and redeemed humanity, in which both body and soul were cleansed of sin, and the divine image that had been implanted in them was restored. It was to save the body that Christ took on flesh in the Incarnation. Not only the soul, which in traditional pagan thought was eternal, but the composite of body and soul, which constituted man, was to be resurrected - an idea that was as repellent to pagans as the doctrine of the Incarnation. Classical philosophers envisioned a continuum between the soul and God and a divine immanence that pervaded the cosmos. In marked contrast Augustine saw a chasm between the soul and God that could only be bridged by the incarnate Christ, who had at a particular moment entered the temporal dimension, an idea that was itself disturbing to pagans.

The divine compassion is mirrored in a human compassion for others, which becomes the basis of ethics and a means of reclaiming the imago Dei in man. Hence, the Christian understanding of personhood became the foundation for a new series of relationships, in which the Christian community (civitas Dei) would come to supplant the classical polis (civitas terrena) as the focus of human activity. This community, the larger metaphorical "body of Christ," consisted of all believers - Jew and Greek, slave and free, male and female (Galatians 3:28) - who formed a unified body in Christ and as such were members of one another (1 Corinthians 12:5). Here, indeed, was a unique concept of the human personality - a psychosomatic unity, a composite of body and soul - which created new boundaries that transcended traditional political and social divisions.

A fourth consequence was that the doctrine of the imago Dei led to a redefinition of the poor. The human body in all its parts shared in the divine image. This was true, not merely of the bodies of Christians, but of all men. It was true particularly of the poor, who acquired a new definition in Christian thought: those who had true worth because they bore the face (prosopon) of Christ.

The theology that lay behind the new prominence that Christians accorded the poor was specifically Nicene, rather than Arian. The Cappadocian Fathers constructed an identity of the poor based on the belief that Jesus was the incarnate God, a belief that imparted a redemptive nature to early Christian relief efforts. As human beings they shared, in the words of Gregory of Nyssa, a common nature. Even the diseased body of a leper had importance. Like Lazarus, with whom lepers were frequently compared by the Cappadocians, they are sanctified because they bear the image of their Saviour. No longer repulsive, they bring holiness and healing from spiritual diseases to those who touch them in order to assist them: "By taking the lepers' flesh in hand, those who minister to them participate in the divine immanence of creation that proceeds from the incarnate Son's essential sharing in both deity and cosmos."

The new image of the poor did not reflect a Christian romanticizing of their condition. But it did constitute a challenge to the rich and powerful, who had traditionally claimed to merit a special relation with the gods in their role as patrons of the community. Sermonic literature depicts Jesus as having chosen in his Incarnation to identify himself with the poor rather than with the rich, since the former could boast of no advantages that gave them a claim to his favour.

But the image that lay behind the doctrine of the Incarnation went beyond a mere class-division between the rich and the poor. Christ had united in his own body a wider chasm, which separated the high state of God and the abject poverty of the human condition. The mystery of the Incarnation united heaven and earth and formed the basis of a "new language of solidarity," the solidarity of members of "the body of Christ." Participation in the Eucharist allowed every Christian to share in the Saviour's divine flesh and provided a means for incorporating humanity into the larger mystery of his spiritual body - the church. Just as God demonstrated in the Incarnation his solidarity with those who suffer, so the members of his "body" must demonstrate their solidarity with the suffering poor.

The social implications of theological formulations were very much a part of the Christological disputes that arose regarding how best to express the relation between the human and the divine in the person of Christ. The Monophysites claimed that Christ possessed a single nature that merged the divine and the human, while the Chalcedonians held that he possessed two separate natures, divine and human. The Monophysite party arose after the Council of Chalcedon in 451, which declared the doctrine of the two natures the orthodox one.

In the debates each party saw the other's formulation as endangering the importance of God's compassion for the wretched poor, whose flesh Christ shared, and for whom his spiritual body on Earth ought to care by acts of mercy. The language inherent in these formulations, and in the sermons that drew their inspiration from them, reflected an underlying theology that saw the Incarnation as the basis for compassionate care of those in need.

Gary Ferngren is Professor of Greek and Roman History at Oregon State University, and the author of Medicine and Health Care in Early Christianity. You can hear Gary Ferngren and other guests discuss "matters of life and death" with Scott Stephens on Radio National's Encounter program, on 1 June 2013.