A few weeks ago, The Catholic Herald published a piece on the Prosperity Gospel. The piece was a sketchy look at the impact of the Prosperity Gospel in Africa and Latin America, and didn’t really deliver on what the headline promised, which was pretty clearly implied by the title, “How Catholics are Falling for the Prosperity Gospel.”
Well, Catholics “falling” for the Prosperity Gospel is touched on in two anecdotes, one at the beginning about a prosperity-oriented element of a Mass somewhere in Africa, and the other in Latin America. The concerns and warnings of clergy on both continents is cited and it’s mentioned that Charismatic Catholic movements are particularly susceptible to the Prosperity Gospel – but nothing specific is described. I suppose the main way we’re to assume that “Catholics are falling” for the Prosperity Gospel on these continents, particularly Latin America is by leaving the Catholic faith for Pentecostal, Prosperity-oriented movements. I suppose?
Reading the piece led me down another mental road, though. It’s a well-trodden road for me, considering the Prosperity Gospel has been around for a while and is something I’ve contemplated both in my studies of religious history and contemporary American Christianity.
That mental road is this: are there other ways in which Catholics are falling for other expressions of what we might call a “Prosperity Gospel?”
It’s easy for us to look at an interpretation of Christianity with which we disagree and dismiss it out of hand, mock or condemn it – especially something as obviously wrong as the health-and-wealth gospel. More fruitful, I think, is to look at the why and the roots and explore how aspects of an incorrect interpretation might have crept into our own thinking. To examine it, see what’s true, what’s false and use it as a way, not so much to condemn others – over whom we have no control – but to grow in our own faith and conform ourselves more closely to truth.
So let’s take the most recent newsworthy example – pastor John Gray purchasing a $200K Lamborghini for his wife. Gray defended his purchase against criticism by pointing out that he’d not used church money to buy it, but rather money from a book deal, a television show on Oprah’s network and other income sources. He didn’t go whole hog Prosperity in defending it, but he did say: “God helped me to make my wife’s dream come true,” he wrote in an Instagram post Tuesday night. “Why not? She’s made mine come true!”
This is a little different from promising the impoverished that if they align themselves correctly with God’s will, they’ll find more material comfort, but the very basic fundamentals are the same: When we do God’s will, it shows in our earthly lives. God helps us make our dreams come true.
This is not, of course, incorrect. The deep roots of the Prosperity Gospel are in the ancient life of Israel. Read Psalms, read Proverbs. External blessing is a sign of God’s favor in our tradition.
But then along came the Exile. And the challenge of Job. God’s people had to ask themselves: What does it mean to be blessed by God? What does God’s presence among us look like?
Not such an easy connection anymore.
Over two thousand years of contemplation on the question, meditating on promises of blessing in the context of the Cross has produced a rich, healthy, balanced understanding of what it all means, perhaps best expressed in the Beatitudes and in the lives of the saints.
All heresies are, essentially, an imbalance – the heightening of one aspect of truth over all others.
It seems to me that the fundamental error of any “Prosperity Gospel” lies in the elevation of the truth that yes, we find authentic peace and true joy when our wills and choices are aligned with God’s will. That’s the truth we find in the very beginning of Scripture: Adam and Eve at peace in the Garden, and then at war with each other, God, nature and themselves outside of it.
The way that a “Prosperity Gospel” twists this truth is when it encourages us to uncritically identify the fruits of a right relationship with God with anything temporal.
It instrumentalizes the spiritual life.
So now, look beyond the easy targets of health-and-wealth. Survey the contemporary popular spiritual landscape, Catholic and otherwise. If there’s a current self-help trend out there, are spiritual gurus close behind, baptizing it?
You might see and hear some of this:
Through faith, I came to understand my purpose and look at the success I’ve found because of that.
Through faith, I came to see and accept how beautiful I am, and what true beauty is.
Because of faith, I feel great about myself and affirm my life as amazing and accomplished.
This is hard, this is tricky, and I hope I can tease this apart correctly. Because I’m sure this might be striking you as just wrong. Because isn’t that part of what faith is? In accepting Jesus as Lord of my life, aren’t I opening myself to a re-orientation, a proper understanding of myself and my relationship to the world that’s going to bear this fruit?
True. All that is fruit of a relationship with Christ.
Plot twist: But it’s really not that important, either.
And it’s certainly not the center of the spiritual life, as traditionally understood. It’s irrelevant to the core of it and, in the end, is a distraction, and – if used as a selling point evangelization tool, only part of the way to that core.
It’s also the expression of Christians living in a wealthy, privileged culture of choice and social mobility. Our culture values appearance, success, accomplishment and control. If you find your spirituality oriented towards using God to get more of that in your life – that’s some Prosperity Gospel right there.
The only thing I can do to flesh this out is point you to the Gospel, the Pauline epistles and the lives and writings of the saints.
Think about the Gospels. Think about Paul’s words and witness. Go beyond the passages about gifts and talents.
What is the reason we are called to Christ?
Because he is the Way, the Truth and the Life.
That’s it. Without him, we are lost.
And the fruit of being in communion with him? Yes, peace, authentic self-knowledge and joy. That’s all over the place, too.
But not in the world’s terms.
For what is it someone has said? What was the only thing Jesus promised his followers about their life on earth?
That they would suffer.
All of this can intersect in our lives, certainly. In giving ourselves to Christ, we find a joy – and we feel that joy – that was unknown to us away from him.
But also be wary. Always be on guard and be willing to look and listen closely. Jesus promises fullness of life – but be cautious when figuring out what this means. Sometimes it means that aspects of your temporal life are going to really and truly feel as if they are in line with that spiritual flourishing, and it’s all coming together. And it may be just that. Or it may be a trap – a trap of narcissism and self-centeredness, a temptation to elevate my will and assume, because things seem to be going great, that of course it must be God’s will as well.
Yes, that’s a form of the Prosperity Gospel. A soft Prosperity Gospel, if you will. I’m not called to follow Christ because of what he’ll do for my life – even though he does everything. I’m called to follow Christ because he calls and he’s Lord.
Period.
Update: Please read “bearing’s” comment below on consolation – a very helpful way to expand the conversation.
Yup. Completely agree. And we even see this in the Bible–John 9:1-3! I get this all the time, that I did something wrong, I don’t believe correctly, etc. People seem to forget that God didn’t promise that we’d be HAPPY in this world. Sigh.
I wonder if this sort of celebration of temporal happiness and satisfaction, accompanied by a broader understanding of what happiness and satisfaction means (e.g. “Now that I know what true beauty is” — something unspecified, but more than just conventional outer attractiveness — “I see that I am beautiful.” Or: “now that I know what true wealth is, I see that I am wealthy”) might fall under the category of “consolations.”
Consolations = free gifts of happiness, contentment, felt blessings, confidence in the presence of God, strong feelings of conviction. All bestowed by God on some of the faithful, and occasionally understood to be *withdrawn* from them by God, as a means of increasing their growth in faith.
Numerous saints have warned Christians against mistaking the consolation for something it is not. It is not (necessarily) a reward or a punishment; it is certainly not a reliable indication of the holiness of the individual, such that holier people receive more or fewer consolations; and while we may hope for consolations, we are expressly warned against making the consolation the end that we seek.
I only bring it up because if indeed the sentiments that lead one into the prosperity-gospel error *are* incorrect responses to real spiritual consolations, then the ancient and medieval fathers will have much to say to us about how to avoid falling into this apparently modern error.
Very thoughtful read.
Re. consolations, a gem of a book I picked up at our local Benedictine monastery (“Worshipping a Hidden God” by Abp. Luiz Martinez) talks at length about the dangers of basing our Christian life on consolations rather than on faith:
“There is no doubt that consolations are good, provided that God gives them; but they are dangerous. Since we cling to them very easily, from the very start our heart needs to be detached from everything, even from spiritual comforts, if we wish to unite ourselves to God. The only thing that the heart should attach itself to is God. Created things always contain a dangerous element, for in attaching ourselves to them, we withdraw from God. And even the graces of God are created things.”
As for the other ways that the prosperity gospel has entered the Church, here’s an insightful discussion of its history from the CBC Radio show “Ideas”: https://www.cbc.ca/listen/shows/ideas/episode/11318846. The author being interviewed distinguishes between “hard prosperity” and “soft prosperity”, with folks like Joel Osteen and Joyce Meyer landing in the latter camp. It’s their emphasis on faith as linked to emotional well-being that I think has made deeper inroads than the focus on wealth.
It’s difficult because we’re trying to figure our His will for us in This Temporal Life, not in the abstract. Both sides of the coin can end up in the same place. Making the choices one wants for oneself, having material needs and desires met comfortably, spending little time asking whether that is what God wants for us or just what we want for ourselves, can easily lead to a kind of self-congratulatory prosperity gospel.
But praying hard, and looking everywhere to hear the Lord’s plan for oneself–left or right, Lord? Take this job or not? Make this appointment or not? Take on this situation at church or not? agree to this responsibility or not? Make these plans or not? Choose this school or not? Move to this state or not? –this too can cause us to think that He aligned the stars. We pray “make the decision obvious, Lord”. And sometimes He answers. So how are we to know it’s the Lord telling us what to do, His plan for us, not our own (selfish) plan for us? If all things are His plan, how do we choose?
We often seek to take the path that will bring joy and peace, we think. Is this a consolation? Is this a misunderstanding? Or is it the door the Lord is opening?
sometimes we really can’t take more. The Lord consoles, yes, but He also saves, dramatically. He performs miracles. We shouldn’t avoid the miraculous opportunity or experience in front of us.
Best, I guess is to be supple. To admit our humility daily, and to learn to thank God in all good and bad.
One place this comes up a lot is in modern Catholic motherhood. ” How can you tell if you should be at home with kids or work? Don’t be afraid to be home! When you make such a sacrifice, you will be rewarded with such joy!”
“You should homeschool! Your family life will be so wonderful if you homeschool!”
Even Eucharistic adoration is sold this way– “it will bring you great peace and many blessings.”
Perhaps it is just that “duty” is a bad word in this era. To do one’s duty because it is the just thing to give another is too alien a reason to provoke a positive response.
It occurs to me, too, that we might find some wisdom in perusing the lives and writings of the saints who enjoyed many material blessings. Not every saint lived in poverty: we have saints who were royalty, saints who were beloved scions of well-to-do and respectable families, saints who enjoyed the privileges of an excellent education and the respect of their peers. Their responses to earthly success may be instructive.