Christianity’s Love of Money
Where did we go wrong? Comparing modern prosperity preachers to the early Church
Jesus spoke about the love of money being the root of all evil (1 Tim 6:10). Many assume Jesus is offering a scathing critique of capitalism or consumerism. But I think that these, although they can give rise to the 'love of money’, actually are not what Jesus meant when he talked about 'the love of money.' I think we can learn a lot by looking at particular examples of Christianity's relationship with wealth (and power) throughout history.
Before we open the pages of history, let me paint you a picture for comparison's sake.
Enter Kenneth Copeland.
Copeland is an old white male televangelist with a net worth of around $760 million. He is well known for his antics (check out a fantastic metal remix of a sermon of his) and his prosperity theology- a topic I will write about later.
Infamously, he defended his owning a private Jet in an interview with another wealthy prosperity preacher, Jesse Duplantis, claiming that it's important that he can travel in his private luxury jet so that he can talk to God. Apparently, he "can't manage that today" in today's "dope-filled world" and airlines for the common folk, where "God's anointed" find themselves stuck in a "long tube with a bunch of demons." Kenneth, in the same interview, admonishes his followers who have doubts about his ostentatious spending habits because, if he wanted to, he "could scratch his flying itch" with another, smaller, private plane of his, and his need to travel in a private jet "has nothing to do with that." He urged that he and Jesse are in "soul business" inside a "dying world" and agreed with Jesse when he claimed that traveling in private jets strengthens his faith, without which "God" warns Jesse that his faith "will stagnate."
See for yourself:
I wish I were joking. As I am writing this, I cannot believe that these people are unironically attempting to justify their multimillion-dollar net-worths and their purchases of luxury private jets, claiming that they can get closer to God that way. It's disgusting.
Moreover, this is all in the midst of a plea for donations or 'tithes,' not only so that they can continue their "soul business," but so that those who give their money can be blessed themselves- as if God is a magical vending machine that can only dispense blessings to those vulnerable people when they donate to the likes of Copeland or Duplantis. As someone who would still find himself in line with orthodox or historical Christianity, this is sickening and is a vast departure from the beautiful melody that Jesus orchestrated through his life, death, and resurrection. Playing with this analogy, I'm pretty certain that the example of Copeland and Duplantis' lives would comparatively sound like this.
As author John Dickson points out in his (fantastic) book "Bullies and Saints: An Honest Look at the Good and Evil of Christian History,"- the church has historically been a mixed bag in faithfully recreating Jesus' melody. I haven't yet finished the book, but I want to relay a story from it which struck me as fascinating.
The story of Bishop Eligius (AD 590–660)
By all historical accounts, Bishop Eligius was a remarkably wealthy individual. He had a reputation for being a master goldsmith, so much so that he came to the attention of Frankish Royalty and was selected to oversee the crafting of all the royal precious metals and jewelry, first by Colthar II, then to his successor Dagobert. Reports indicate that Colthar II even commissioned Eligius to craft him a golden throne adorned with all sorts of expensive gems and jewelry.
Interestingly, Eligius was well known for wearing:
"gold and gems on his clothes having belts composed of gold and gems and elegantly jeweled purses, linens covered with red metal and golden sacs hemmed with gold and all of the most precious fabrics including all of silk."
Think Piaget jewelry, limited edition Rolex watches, and bespoke Gucci attire. This guy was rich, annoyingly rich- the type where you could tell how rich he was just by looking at him. I think if he were alive today, he'd probably be chauffeured around in a Rolls Royce- Phantom Edition.
Needless to say, such an illustrious position entailed many benefits, such as great wealth and an expanding personal collection of the finest of clothes, precious metals, gems, and jewelry.
Many in a similar position would probably take advantage of such an opportunity to amass or invest their ever-expanding personal wealth so that they and their families, and their families, could live comfortably for generations to come.
Frankly, that would probably include me too.
But, Eligius was a very religious man. Accounts speak of him always having his head in a book- the Bible. He would apparently read and read and read, hoping to uncover "divine mandates" from God. Once he discovered such a mandate in the unselfish and endlessly loving and generous life of Jesus Christ.
He found that as Jesus had given himself to the world, so are we to do the same. Then, remarkably, his life took a drastic and fascinating turn.
He became a walking charity
Remember that sumptuous, dare I say ostentatious, get-up of his? Well, something peculiar started to happen.
He would leave home in his casual dress- you know, the finest clothing adorned by gold and gems, fastened by belts consisting of gold and gems, while also carrying the finest of purses (also bedazzled in jewels, precious metals, and the finest of silks) brimming with money- and would come home with nothing but a "hairshirt" and the "vilest of clothing" fastened only with a rope as a belt.
You'd assume that the poor fellow (well, maybe you wouldn't feel so bad- because he was filthy rich) was robbed by a band of conniving thugs, or even worse: refugees.
You would be wrong.
He had been convicted of the "Divine mandate" he uncovered in the life of Jesus and used his wealth to give all he could to those in need and to free those enslaved in a world where slavery was commonplace, and unfortunately seen as a necessary evil by many- even in the church (it was only much later that Christians spearheaded the abolitionist movement).
You see, whenever he saw someone in need, he'd give his money to them. When he would run out of money, he would rip off a jewel or precious metal from his fine dress and give it to them, and then when he ran out of jewels and precious metals, he would strip off his clothing, and when he ran out of clothing, he would give his shoes. He'd leave in the morning fully laden with the finest and most fashionable clothing and return in the evening wearing nothing but his undergarments, and then he'd wake up the next day and do the same, and then the next day… and so forth. He couldn't bear to live in a world where people were enslaved or where the destitute were ignored. He needed to step in and be Jesus to them, and he did that by becoming a walking charity.
"But, what's the catch?" you might say, and rightfully so- many of us have fallen victim to scams or have been guilt-tripped into serving in or attending churches through gifts or good deeds.
For instance, I once heard that, during a multi-church youth conference (with hundreds in attendance), an older lady who had been serving (and I assume burning out) in one church involved was dragged out on stage to announce that they were gifting her a brand new car. While obviously a display of incredible generosity ostensibly honoring her for her service, my inner cynic wonders why there was such a display of it. Was it to prod members and church workers to work, give, and attend more so that maybe they too could be gifted a brand new car? Or was it to show off just how generous this church and its leaders were? I am reminded of Matthew 6:3–4:
“But when you give to the needy, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, so that it may be given in secret…”
Remarkably, history tells us that Eligius gave without a catch. Whenever he would free slaves, he would do so without discrimination (yes, even the refugees); he "freed all alike, Romans, Gauls, Britons, and Moors… particularly Saxons who were as numerous as sheep," and he asked nothing in return.
Our modern instincts would tell us that if a religious person had discovered us in a time of great financial need and gave us their $40,000 Rolex along with their $10,000 Gucci belt and a handful of $100 bills (because why not?), it would be because they wanted something from us in return, or at least prod us to convert to their religion or cause. That scene in Squid Games where a mysterious rich man encourages the protagonist to join comes to mind. I think we would also probably assume that their "religious community" is some sort of weird cult- which I think is sad and reflects negatively on the generosity (or lack thereof) of Christian individuals.
However, whenever Eligius would free slaves, he would require nothing of them. If they desired to stay with him or his community, he would arrange accommodation and work opportunities for them to flourish. If they did not want to stay but return to their homelands, he would help them by offering a subsidy for what they required to return home. How remarkable. How sad. How sad is it that I, for the life of me, cannot identify a modern-day Eligius? Maybe they exist and are giving in secret. But perhaps we as Christians have given up on helping those in need directly.
This isn't to say that he wasn't fervently passionate about the Gospel and just liked giving his stuff to people. He had developed a reputation for being a social justice advocate and a very zealous preacher and evangelist.
Indeed, charity sprung out of Christianity, and attempts by the Roman Emperor Julian (AD 332–363) to create a competing pagan equivalent (so that the plebs would stop converting) had failed miserably- but that's a topic for another time.
What's remarkable to me is that Eligius opted to let his actions speak for his faith to those outside his church or faith community. He could have easily harangued those he saved with a Gospel presentation, but he had decided not to; he had instead demonstrated the Gospel through his unconditional love. A love that would not make sense apart from Christ, and a love that would invite curiosity.
What would our world look like if the likes of Copeland and Duplantis were more like Eligius?
Copeland, Duplantis, and Eligius all are (or were) remarkably wealthy. All of them profess(ed) to be Christian. So why are they so different? It seems to me that while Copeland and his ilk have an immense love for money, Eligius had an immense love for God and for all people, whom God made in his image.
Where Copeland and Duplantis passionately argue that they can only find God apart from the destitute, Eligius would argue that the best way to find God was through loving those in need, and giving his life for the world, just as Christ had done.
Indeed, the earliest description of a Christian gathering or "church service" comes from Justin Martyr (AD 100–165). Martyr outlined the five characteristics of the gatherings:
- reading the apostles' writings (what we would call the New Testament);
- receiving teaching or instruction from their church leader;
- a thanksgiving meal comprising bread and wine;
- public prayers;
- and the collection of money for "the orphans and widows and those who, through sickness or any other cause, are in want, and those who are in bonds." [4]
Read that last point again.
Today our collections look more like money for "the senior pastor's bonus, the new building fund, and for a lighting set-up and smoke machine to attract the youths."
That isn't to say that the church isn't generous. Indeed, the majority of the world's top charities are Christian. I just ask myself, why can't we do more? What would our world look like if we heeded the "divine mandate" Eligius discovered; to give our lives for the world just as Jesus had done? Just think of the impact that Copeland and his ilk could have on the lives of so many people. Instead of exploiting vulnerable people to amass wealth so that he can be "closer to God," what if he had been an Eligius?
This all leaves me with the following questions:
Where did we go wrong? How can we get back to playing in line with the beautiful melody composed by Jesus?
What are the answers? Look, I don’t know (I don’t have all the answers- in fact, I have very few). Perhaps the application of this article is that we should all strive to be more like Eligius and less like Copeland.
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