Wealth, Power and the Cry of the Earth

Wealth and power are inextricably linked in today’s world. When Donald Trump attended the National Cathedral service in Washington DC, Bishop Mariann Edgar Budde delivered an unexpected message of truth to power. She advocated for vulnerable populations, particularly LGBTQ individuals and undocumented immigrants, urging Trump to show mercy. Bishop Budde’s prophetic words stemmed from her Gospel commitment. Though gentle in delivery, her firm message to America’s most powerful figure seemed to slide off like Teflon. When pressured to apologize, she stood resolute in her convictions. The contrast is stark—had tech titans like Musk or Zuckerberg made similar remarks, it is doubtful Trump would have demanded an apology.

How did we fall into the trap of monetary wealth at the expense of the human person, no less the earth itself? How come human life and creaturely life have so little worth and are as disposable as candy wrappers? The twin forces of wealth and power have always shaped human civilization, intertwined and self-reinforcing. In our modern era, this relationship has become even more pronounced, however, creating a system where financial wealth often overshadows moral authority. The contrast between Bishop Budde’s treatment and that of tech billionaires illustrates this reality. Corporate leaders like Musk, Zuckerberg, and Bezos—whose combined wealth rivals nations’ GDPs—rarely face demands for apologies. Their financial power provides immunity that moral authority no longer commands. This shift extends beyond individual incidents to shape policy, social structures, and our relationship with Earth itself. 

The postmodern view that “truth is no longer meaningful” reflects a fundamental shift from belief in objective reality to an emphasis on individual perspectives and power dynamics. In this framework, truth becomes relative and constructed—shaped more by those with power and wealth than by moral or empirical foundations. If you think it is true, then it is true. There is no other norm to assess truth other than one’s own experience. This connects directly to the Bishop Budde incident: her moral truth, though grounded in religious tradition and ethical principles, held less weight than the financial truth wielded by tech billionaires. When truth becomes subjective, wealth and power become the dominant arbiters of what society accepts as true, leading to concerning implications for human dignity, environmental protection, and social justice. The devaluation of objective truth particularly impacts vulnerable populations and environmental concerns, as their realities can be dismissed or reframed by those with financial influence. This explains why corporate leaders face less scrutiny than religious figures challenging power structures—their wealth effectively shapes what society considers true or important.

While Gospel preaching can illuminate moral truths, it rarely disrupts established power structures on its own. Financial and political systems remain largely impervious to purely spiritual challenges, requiring broader systemic action for meaningful change. Bishop Budde’s experience demonstrates this—her moral authority, despite its religious foundation, proved insufficient against entrenched power dynamics. Real transformation demands both prophetic voice and practical reform of wealth-concentrating institutions. But even this type of reform will not be entirely effective unless we ourselves become a different people. The Canadian historian Lynn White noted in his 1967 article on “The Historical Roots of our Ecologic Crisis” that technological and policy reforms alone cannot solve our environmental and social crises. Our fundamental challenges—concentrated wealth and unaccountable power—stem from distorted spiritual values. As White argued, these are religious issues at their core, requiring spiritual rather than merely political or economic solutions. True transformation demands reconnecting with sacred principles about humanity’s role and responsibilities within creation. The root of our problems is religious, he said, and the remedy must be religious as well. We must re-think and re-feel our destiny. 

Despite the prophetic stance of the Gospel, our political system has weaponized religion, transforming Christianity into an arena of conflict. The fracture runs deep—from nostalgic Catholic medievalism to Protestant reductionism—reflecting more than denominational divides. We have severed the incarnation from its earthly roots, eviscerating God from the flow of evolution. The incarnation has become “de-carnated” and many Christians have become Gnostic. 

Yet a deeper power of reality persists; we remain bound to nature’s laws despite our denial. Every person depends on Earth’s integrity for survival. Yet we continue to treat Earth as mere backdrop for human drama, with science and technology becoming esoteric knowledge for the few. The artificial divide between religion and science lies at the heart of our contemporary moral confusion. We have forgotten our roots as Earth’s children. As Saint Francis of Assisi reminded us, earth is our mother. The ecologically dissociated self has created a world stripped of soul, giving rise to planetary dysfunction on social, moral and political levels. Like any family system under stress, nature will ultimately rebel against this dysfunction. This is what Teilhard realized in 1948 when he wrote:

Mark my word: though (hu)man stands on great stacks of wheat, on mountains of uranium and coal, on oceans of oil, (s)he will cease to develop his unity, and (s)he will perish. If (s)he does not watch over and foster in the first place the source of psychic energy which maintains… the passion for action and knowledge—which means for growing greater and evolving—from which comes unity of mind (p. 173). 

Our moral disorientation stems from divorcing religion from nature—like extracting a beating heart from a living body. This crisis extends beyond politics to implicate all who speak in the name of God. Departments of theology are responsible for failing to include nature as the starting point of theology and philosophical reflection; pastors and priests are responsible for delivering outdated homilies born from the ignorance of modern science. The faithful choose comfortable ignorance over scientific engagement. A fractured Christianity is at the heart of a planet in crisis. 

While Bishop Budde’s courage merits praise, we confront an evolutionary precipice. Science shows climate change’s role in mass extinctions, yet science also reveals life’s strength through interconnection. Jesus’s question “Who are my sisters and brothers?” points to the profound truth that every creature participates in the emergence of divine love, from stars to wetlands to humanity in all its diversity. True divinity doesn’t intervene from outside but rises up through evolution itself. God needs every single creature to become fully alive. If we push God out of the world, as Nietzsche wrote, then we are left with human hubris. The dangerous fallacy of human self-deification emerges when we forget our place within nature’s web. This hubris—declaring ourselves gods—reflects the very mindset that has led to our ecological crisis and social fragmentation. 

We have limited time to integrate science and religion into a new framework of understanding ourselves in this vast cosmos of unfolding life. Without uniting mind, matter, and spirit through conscious evolution, terrestrial life faces catastrophe. Teilhard’s prescient question—“Who will give evolution its own God?”—remains urgent. Until we engage this challenge, we bear Bonaventure’s warning: 

Therefore, any person who is not illumined by such great splendor in created things is blind. Anyone who is not awakened by such great outcries is deaf. Anyone who is not led by such effects to give praise to God is mute. Anyone who does not turn to the First Principle as a result of such signs is a fool. Therefore, open your eyes; alert your spiritual ears; unlock your lips, and apply your heart so that in all creatures you may see, hear, praise, love, and adore, magnify, and honor your God lest, the entire world rise up against you. (Bonaventure, Soul’s Journey into God. 1.15)