That discussion reminded me of a short series I shared in 2023 about what we are talking about when we talk about the soul. Our default assumption is that when we talk about the soul we are talking about a spectral substance or ghostly object that inhabits our body. But I would suggest that when we speak of the soul were are talking less about a substance than about the deepest aspects of what it means to be human.
To start, the soul is the arena of moral drama in our lives.
Every day and every moment we are in a moral drama, playing a high-stakes game. And what is won or lost in this game is our very soul. When we say “soul,” we name this fight, this struggle. William James once described the drama of human existence:
“If this life is not a real fight, in which something is eternally gained for the universe by success, it is no better than a game of private theatricals from which one may withdraw at will. But it feels like a real fight.”
Where in us does this moral drama take place? You could say it’s happening in the brain, but that seems inadequate as the stakes of this game are “for our very soul.” Something sacred and integral to my identity is in play and at risk.
Relatedly, the soul is also the place where we experience what psychologists call moral damage. When we act in ways that violate our deeply held and most cherished values, or when we witness things that morally traumatize us, we feel that the soul is wounded, seared, or scarred. And the location of this damage isn’t biological. The brain not damaged by moral wounds, it is the soul that is hurt.
Beyond being the arena of moral drama, the soul is also the container of human value and worth.
Physically and materially, there isn’t much value in a human person. Reduced to our elemental components, the human body is made mostly of oxygen, carbon, hydrogen, nitrogen, calcium, and phosphorus. The cost of these chemicals, as chemicals, is around $160.
Obviously, this purely chemical description is unable to capture what is priceless about human persons. So, where does this value adhere? What is the container, the receptacle, of human worth?
Biblically, Christians confess that every human person is created in the image of God. And while the Imago Dei can mean many things, it has always included the idea of human dignity and worth. Because we bear the divine image, our value is inviolable.
When we say “soul,” therefore, we are naming what is priceless about the human person. The soul is irreducible to a purely material accounting and valuable beyond any economic reckoning.
Finally, to speak of the soul is to speak of the eschatological horizon of human life.
Now, I don’t want to get bogged down in the doctrinal details. We can debate if the soul is immortal or not, if we should prefer a Platonic or a more embodied vision. We can debate Judgment Day, heaven, and hell. But however we work out the details, when we say “soul” we are thinking eschatologically about human persons and the moral content of our lives.
To view yourself eschatologically is to believe that you have come into existence for a reason and that your life has an ultimate destiny. Having a soul means human life is teleological. Your existence is not due to chance, accident, or happenstance.
And if we have a destiny, if we are here for a reason, that means it matters what we do with our lives, morally speaking. Life has moral weight and consequence. Maybe you believe in heaven or hell, maybe you believe we leave behind a “moral echo” that ripples through time, maybe you believe in karma. Regardless, the consequences of our actions outlast our lives, for good or ill. When we say “soul,” we are pointing to this eschatological aspect of human life. Human life exists for a reason, a reason rooted in a moral drama that persists beyond the temporal bounds of biological existence.
In summary, to possess a soul is to experience life as cosmically sacred, existentially valuable, morally charged, and purposively directed.
To have a soul is to be human, with all the pathos this entails.
