When Capitalism Captured Christianity
If an observer were to read the New Testament without any
knowledge of modern America, they would almost certainly conclude that Jesus
was deeply suspicious of wealth and power. He blessed the poor, warned that the
rich faced extraordinary moral dangers, instructed his followers to care for
"the least of these," and declared that one cannot serve both God and
money.
Yet much of American Christianity appears to have reached
nearly the opposite conclusion.
The dominant message heard in many churches is not one of
economic humility but of individual success. Wealth is often treated as
evidence of virtue, business success as evidence of God's favor, and
free-market capitalism as if it were a sacred institution. In some circles, the
so-called "prosperity gospel" explicitly teaches that faithfulness
will be rewarded with financial prosperity.
This represents, in my view, one of the great ironies of
American history.
In their purest forms, Christianity and capitalism begin
with very different moral priorities.
Capitalism is an economic system. Its primary engine is
private ownership, competition, investment, and the pursuit of profit. Properly
regulated, it can generate innovation, productivity, and wealth. Left
unchecked, however, it naturally rewards accumulation, concentrates economic
power, and encourages the pursuit of self-interest.
Christianity, by contrast, is fundamentally a moral system.
Its central teachings emphasize compassion, generosity, forgiveness, humility,
and concern for the poor. The New Testament repeatedly warns against the
corrupting influence of wealth. Jesus told a rich young ruler to sell his
possessions and give the proceeds to the poor. He overturned the tables of
money changers in the Temple. He observed that it is easier for a camel to pass
through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God.
Those teachings sit uneasily beside a culture that
celebrates wealth as the highest achievement.
The tension between these two systems has existed for
centuries. But in the United States, the tension has often been resolved not by
changing capitalism, but by changing Christianity.
Over time, many churches came to identify free-market
capitalism with God's will. Political conservatism, economic individualism, and
religious identity increasingly became intertwined. Rather than challenging
concentrations of wealth or questioning economic inequality, many religious
institutions came to defend the existing economic order.
The result is a version of Christianity that often appears
more comfortable defending wealth than questioning it.
This transformation has profound political consequences.
When Christianity becomes closely identified with a
particular economic ideology, it risks losing its ability to criticize
injustice wherever it appears. If protecting wealth becomes a religious duty,
then concern for the poor, workers, the marginalized, and the vulnerable can
become secondary. The prophetic voice of religion gives way to the defense of
established power.
The irony is striking. The figure who preached that the
first shall be last and the last shall be first is invoked in support of
systems that often reward those already possessing the greatest wealth and
influence.
This is not to say that every American church fits this
description. Many congregations devote themselves to serving the poor, feeding
the hungry, sheltering the homeless, and advocating for justice. Their work
reflects longstanding Christian commitments to charity and compassion.
My criticism is directed instead at the broader cultural
alliance between segments of American Christianity and economic power. When
religious language is used to sanctify wealth, defend privilege, or equate
financial success with moral worth, Christianity risks becoming something other
than what its founder taught.
The same concern applies to the modern movement for
Christian nationalism.
If Christianity is transformed into a political identity
whose primary purpose is defending national power, economic privilege, or
partisan goals, then religion ceases to be a moral check on society and instead
becomes one of its instruments. At that point, faith no longer challenges power;Christianity
it legitimizes it.
History offers many examples of governments and economic
elites using religion to reinforce their authority. When this occurs, believers
may sincerely think they are serving God while also advancing the interests of
those who benefit from the existing distribution of wealth and power.
Whether one is religious or not, this possibility deserves
careful scrutiny.
A religion that consistently comforts the powerful while
placing little burden upon them bears little resemblance to the teachings
attributed to Jesus in the New Testament. If Christianity is to retain moral
credibility, it must be willing to speak uncomfortable truths to wealth and
power rather than merely bless them.
The enduring question is not whether capitalism and
Christianity can coexist. They clearly have.
The deeper question is whether Christianity can preserve its
moral independence when it becomes too closely allied with economic and
political power.
That question remains as urgent today as ever.
William James Spriggs
