De divitiis, written by an anonymous author in the early fifth century, is oftentimes seen and treated as an alarming - indeed, heretical - example of the ancient roots of Communism. It isn’t, of course. But the author does raise a series of uncomfortable questions about the immorality of inherited wealth, observes a causal relationship between the wealth of the few and the destitution of the many, and holds that Christians must get rid of their wealth to enter the Kingdom of God. The author’s most famous conclusion certainly seems radical - “Get rid of the rich and there will be no poverty” - yet it was the very same conclusion other Patristic writers had come to regarding the need to focus on living with just enough.
Rather than being seen as a source text for communism, historian of late antiquity Peter Brown holds that the ideas contained within De divitiis are, in fact, simply more pointedly argued views of perspectives that were held by a broad spectrum of ancient Christian thinkers, including John Chrysostom, Basil of Cesarea, and Jerome. De Divitiis is better understood as one voice in a broader ascetic movement ruminating deeply on Christianity’s role amidst the disparities of wealth and poverty, asking what constitutes ‘enough.’
Many of De divitiis’ ideas have currency today. In the United States, both families and institutions are currently being called upon to look at the sources of their intergenerational wealth and endowments, particularly in light of how much wealth was made through the institution of slavery and fossil fuels. Many are coming to terms with a view both John Chrysostom and the writer of De divitiis held which is that there is no such thing as innocent wealth and that such wealth requires some form of moral reckoning. Accumulated wealth - including inherited wealth - always has a grim history to it, these writers argued, and continuing to hold onto such wealth is itself a moral failing insomuch as it is a refusal to return that which was gained through robbery and exploitation of the poor to the common good.
De divitiis also wrestles with what it means to have ‘enough.’ The writer divides the world into three categories: the poor who do not have enough to survive; the rich who have much more than they need to survive; and those who have just enough to stay on the other side of the poverty line. He makes the case that all Christians - not just ascetics - should be focused on learning how to live with just enough - sufficienta - and should give all wealth beyond this minimum to the poor. It is in this context that we hear the writer say that poverty would disappear if there were no rich. As I’ll describe below, such ideas prefigure today’s limitarian philosophers who argue that governments and societies should place limits on excess wealth so that wealth can be redirected toward eliminating global problems, including widespread poverty and climate change.
Beyond its connections to today’s limitarian philosophers, De divitiis also does something even more basic by requiring Christian individuals and institutions to reflect on humanity’s seemingly inexorable drive for wealth. The author sees that humans have a relentless will to seek riches -- a powerful, societally-formed habit that can become an infinite madness because, unlike other drivers, including sex, it can never be satisfied. This delusion is apparent at both the individual and institutional level, with the particular “Pelagian” temptation being that one can accomplish more of God’s mission if only one had more wealth at one’s disposal. Against this, De divitiis believes that Christians must come to terms with what is at the root of this drive and instead learn to live simply, recognizing that Jesus asked his followers to live with just enough.
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Pelagius was born in Britain ca. 354 and was baptized in Rome at some point between 380 and 384. He would go on to live in Rome as one of the most listened to voices of the time.[1] Unfortunately, Pelagius is now mostly known primarily through the arguments of his detractors, particularly Augustine, who argued that Pelagius had an overly positive view of both human nature and will.
Pelagius and his followers held that human nature was fundamentally good as it was created by God, but that the human will had become malformed by the intertwining forces of individual sin and the societally-bound habit. “Society as a whole was held in the grip of evil customs. These customs were the mute deposit of past ages of willful sinning by individuals.”[2] The endless drive for riches was one such example of the complex interplay between individual will and societal habit. Pelagian authors held that while humans were born with a sense of the common good, the societally-held, habitual drive for wealth reshaped humanity’s will into an endless lust - and obsessive addiction - for riches.
Pelagius, in Augustine’s view, believed too much that a person could overcome such sinful habits by reshaping one’s will through prayer, discipline, and good works. “According to Pelagius, human nature was created by God with the possibility of fulfilling his commandments, and this ability is still in the possession of human beings...Sins are considered rust that can be brushed away from human nature, and they do not have the strength to change human nature...”[3]
It is worthwhile noting here that in this respect Pelagius’ view was in keeping with the broader ascetic tradition which regularly ascribed confession and spiritual practices to encourage monks on their ascendency to perfection and holiness. Indeed, a less disputative reading of Pelagius might be to say that he simply articulated the commonly held idea that people have a part to play in their own salvation, that we can and do reshape our practices in response to God’s example so as to live a holier life.
Augustine differed with this positive view of human nature and will and strongly so. He famously argued for the utter depravity of the human soul whose salvation came not through our own will and efforts, but solely through the grace of God. The riches to be found in prayer, spiritual disciplines, and good works were in response to God’s initiating grace. Salvation was offered freely by God to an inherently corrupt human nature, and so the Pelagians were heretical in claiming that by transforming one’s will, habits, and practices, a person could help themselves on their journey toward salvation. If anything, a life of prayer, discipline, and good works was the fruit - the end rather than the means - of a salvation first offered by God.
Augustine extended his critique of Pelagianism to Pelagian' writers' treatment of wealth and poverty. While it appears that Augustine never read De divitiis, he understood that Pelagius and his followers were making the ascetic argument that all Christians had to give up wealth in order to enter God’s Kingdom. This, of course, is rooted in the story of Jesus’ encounter with the rich young ruler that appears in the Gospels of Matthew, Mark, and Luke. Augustine followed the by then well-established practice of quoting only one version of the Gospel. “In the patristic era, the parable of the rich young man - a parable which appears in all three synoptics - was invariably quoted in the version of Matthew, who, unlike the other evangelists, added the qualification ‘if you wish to be perfect’ to Christ’s challenge to the rich man…”[4]
"If you wish to be perfect," became an escape hatch of sorts for one of the most challenging texts for wealthy Christians and those leading increasingly wealthy church institutions.
For wealth apologists such as Clement of Alexandria and Augustine, this qualifier meant that dispossession of wealth was not required of everyone who wished to enter the Kingdom of God and could be relegated to ascetics, a moral obligation well beyond what was required for salvation, and therefore not necessarily applicable to the whole church. Indeed, in The Rich Young Ruler, though he was using the Marcan text, Clement of Alexandria engaged in a bit of scriptural sleight of hand by inserting “if you wish to be perfect” at the corresponding point in his quoting of the passage. “Thus, the command to sell everything and to live a life of voluntary poverty literally became a counsel of perfection to Christians, rather than a precept. The vita perfecta, with complete renunciation of wealth, was only required of ascetics and monks.”[5]
Augustine pointed to Abraham as an example of both great righteousness and wealth and incorporated what was essentially the Stoic’s view of wealth by presenting riches as morally neutral as a common tool. Like a hammer, Augustine argued it was how wealth was used - its utilitas - that determined whether wealth was good or bad. Hammers can be used to build or cause a bloody mess. So too wealth can be used for morally corrupt purposes or offered to the glory of God.
From here, Augustine made one of those breathtaking theological arguments that served the Church well as the Roman empire crumbled and its own institutions came to replace the prior systems and structures in late antiquity. Augustine proffered that insomuch as the moral value of wealth was determined by its use, it was the Church alone that should be able to own property as it was the Church alone that used this wealth to God’s glory.[5A] He humbly accepted, however, that a transfer of all property to the Church would be disruptive to society and therefore shouldn’t occur...at least not yet.
De divitiis offers no such comforting views regarding wealth. In discussing sources of wealth, the author shared the view of John Chrysostom (c. 349-407 CE) writing from Antioch, Syria, who held that it is impossible to acquire wealth through just means, even when it comes through inheritance. “It is true that somebody might argue that he had inherited his wealth from his forefathers, but that would merely mean that his forefathers had stolen it from somebody. The root or origin of this wealth will necessarily be injustice. Nor can one argue that wealth is good merely because the possessor is not greedy, or because he or she practices charity. The fact remains that a rich man cannot explain why he alone has accumulated possessions which the Lord has meant to give to all in common.”[6] The author of De divitiis also saw wealth as the result of a dark history, the fruit of exploitation and injustice, and other Pelagian writers drew on the Old Testament prohibition against making an offering to God from rapine to say that the Church should not be involved in converting ill-gained wealth into votive offerings or even charity. “In the words of the Pelagian De vita christiana: These are not the sort of alms that God asks for…. It is better for you not to give alms at all than to cause a great number to be despoiled of money from which you put a roof over the heads of a few.”[7]
Sufficientia
One of the most interesting ideas in De divitiis is his reflections on the moral obligation of Christians to live with just enough. The author of De divitiis divided the world into three classes: the rich who have more than necessary; the poor who do not have enough; and those who have just enough, possessing no more than was absolutely necessary.[8] The term the author uses for “enough” is sufficientia, derived from Proverbs 30:8 which states, “Give me neither poverty nor riches; feed me with the food that I need.”[9]
In the view of the author of De divitiis, as well as many other Patristic writers, the rich and poor were tightly bound in an economy of limited resources. The accumulation of wealth was sin because it always resulted in poverty. “In his view, the distribution of wealth and poverty in society was the result of an unforgiving zero-sum game. Those who went beyond the measure of sufficiency could do so only by taking from the poor.”[10] The conclusion De divitiis comes to would be echoed by many thinkers in generations since: “Get rid of the rich and you will not find the poor. Let no man have more than he really needs, and everyone will have as much as they need, since the few who are rich are the reason for the many who are poor.”[11]
These arguments have currency today. In a period of historic inequality, one in which the world’s 2,153 billionaires have more wealth than the 4.6 billion people who make up 60 percent of the planet’s population, one can’t help but wonder if the author of De divitiis was indeed on to something.[12] The philosophical movement of limitarianism is one of many groups exploring such disparities, and they are asking whether there needs to be some imposed criteria around what constitutes “enough.”
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| Jeff Bezos is on track to become the first trillionaire by 2026. See https://bit.ly/3lYkqbf |
“In a nutshell, economic limitarianism holds the view that no one should hold surplus money, which is defined as the money one has over and above what one needs for a fully flourishing life. Limitarianism as an ethical or political view is, in a certain sense, symmetrical to the view that there is a poverty line and that no one should fall below this line. Limitarianism claims that one can theoretically construct a riches line and that a world in which no one would be above the riches line would be a better world.”[13]
Limitarians hold that by creating a “riches line” which corresponds to a poverty line, monies would then be able to be redistributed to eradicating extreme global poverty and collective action problems such as climate change. The author of De divitiis would have been pleased.
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Pelagius wasn’t just a heretic. He happened to be a heretic whose ideas should be treated as provocations to critical thought and engagement, particularly in the areas of poverty and wealth.
The Pelagian text De divitiis offers Christians the opportunity to think critically about how wealth and poverty shape their lives. First, De divitiis encapsulates the view of John Chrysostom, Jerome, Basil of Cesarea, and others in questioning whether wealth can ever be innocent. The author points out that wealth was oftentimes, if not always, the result of exploitation and injustice and that the act of accumulating wealth is itself an act of withholding from others resources previously held in common. For these writers, the iniquity of wealth affects not only the person who made the wealth but also its inheritors.
Whereas Clement of Alexandria cannot imagine assigning culpability to the inheritors of vast wealth - “What is to be condemned if God, who gives life, places a child in a powerful family and a home full of wealth and possessions?”[14] - De divitiis holds that this wealth must be returned to the poor from whom it was almost certainly stolen in order for the wealthy to enter the Kingdom of God.
It is worthpointing out here that other Pelagian texts, including De vita cristiana, raised an eyebrow at the Church’s willingness to be moral money launderers for the wealthy, taking money made from exploitation and injustice and making it clean by offering such wealth to God. In this, De vita cristiana draws on the Old Testament belief that “wealth from rapine” must not be offered at the altar of God.”[15]
Such arguments lay the foundation for contemporary calls for wealthy families and institutions, including church institutions, to examine the sources of their wealth and make reparations for the original injustice that this wealth was based on. At the institutional level, it also raises ethical questions on how wealth is currently being accumulated, including the discussion of whether investments are furthering injustice and exploitation. In fundraising efforts, what are the moral boundary lines for accepting money from donors? Are we offering votives using wealth from rapine?
Further, De divitiis explores what constitutes ‘enough’ in a more pointed way than most other Christian writers. In Economics in the Church Fathers, Hennie Stander writes that “The concept of sufficiency versus superfluity runs like a golden thread throughout all the literature of the patristic authors…” and that “Sufficiency of wealth was acceptable, while superfluity was perilous since it could lead to sin. However, sufficiency was never defined.” The author of De divitiis comes closer than others in defining sufficiency by arguing that one should have only what is absolutely needed. This standard leads him to argue that having wealth is equivalent to an act of withholding from the poor and that the accumulation of wealth creates poverty itself.
Oftentimes, when the parable of the rich young ruler or other such challenging text is presented, I’ve noticed that commentators make pains to note that biblical and patristic writers were describing a limited economy, one in which the pie is only so big and that the wealthy getting more meant less for everyone else. In the midst of a famine, for instance, Basil of Cesarea had to rail against the wealthy landowners who were hoarding grain and thus not releasing supply into the Cesarean market. They quickly contrast this with most modern economists’ view of an unlimited economy, one in which the pie is always growing and therefore a bigger slice for the few doesn’t necessarily mean destitution for everyone else.
Except that it consistently does. Today many are asking the fundamental question of whether this view of an unlimited and perpetually growing economy is sane in light of Earth’s limited resources, the crisis of environmental degradation, and the inequalities that have resulted in extreme wealth for a few and destitution for the rest around the world. Global hunger is rising as two thousand billionaires hold more wealth than the 4.6 billion people who make up 60% of the population on earth. This would seem to suggest that there needs to be a rethinking around what constitutes ‘enough.’
De divitiis focuses on what constitutes ‘enough’ and says that getting rid of the wealth of the wealthy would end poverty, an idea which resonates with today’s limitarian arguments about the need for a corresponding upper limit to go alongside the much more familiar, and more widely accepted, poverty limits. The immediate difficulty is in beginning to imagine how such a limit would be enforced. What, after all, does it mean to “get rid of the rich”, as the author of De divitiis states?
Instead of going down that rabbit hole, what I’d rather focus on is whether or not there isn’t some value in Christian individuals and institutions engaging in a conversation about voluntary limitarianism -- not as a solution for wider society, but as a sign and symbol for the sort of world we need to be moving toward amidst global poverty and ecological crises.
What would it mean for Christians to enter into a serious conversation about an upper limit on wealth? While interesting in the abstract, things become spicier when one begins to discuss the practical implications and indicators of limits on excess wealth. For instance, one might ask whether it is moral for wealthy Christians to own more than one home. New York is currently experiencing a major homelessness crisis, one in which 21,000 children are living in the municipal shelter system. While I realize that asking Christians to give up their second (or third) homes doesn’t necessarily result in a place to live for someone without one, the contrast between Christians owning so much of what so many others do not have at all is striking. Is this not a sign of living well beyond the ideal of having simply enough? Would this wealth be better directed elsewhere?
One personal rule that I follow which - again, is very imperfect - is that I shouldn’t ever own more than I can clean with my own two hands. If I own or rent a place that is so large, or if I have so many possessions, that I need to hire someone else to help me to take care of it, this is a red flag of excessive acquisition. Would it not be better to minimize one’s possessions - or at the very least, space usage - and solely inhabit what you yourself can easily maintain/clean? This then begs the question of what could be done with the rest.
As interesting as this conversation would be to have at an individual level, however, it becomes far more important and impactful when raised to the level of institutions. Like individuals, institutions can become trapped in an insatiable grasping for wealth and power that drains the soul and moral clarity out of a place. What constitutes “enough” when looking at institutional endowments? What constitutes ‘enough’ when considering effectiveness at accomplishing one’s mission? Ironically, many faith institutions operate with a unquestioning belief that there is a direct relationship between having more wealth and being able to accomplish more of God's mission. That might be true. But it's also worth periodically pausing and asking whether it is true, inherently.
There's a secular version of this type of inquiry insomuch as many have observed the difference between activities and impact. Many institutions assume that having more means doing more, yet oftentimes our institutions would be better served by doing a lot less. In many cases, doing fewer things while focusing on those areas that make the most impact is more effective in the long-run. It also may be a way of operating more simply and faithfully.
Of course, as I’ve discovered at many awkward dinners over the years, these are charged questions to raise in wealthy settings, however politely and obliquely I have tried to frame them. Here, at least, I am raising this not the spirit of saying that there are easy rules and indicators to follow, but rather to say that it’s stunning that we’re so far removed from any such conversation, particularly in light of the vast poverty and environmental degradation that surrounds us. The Church - with its long tradition of ascetic spirituality and economic justice - has the resources to foster these conversations in an authentic way.
I’ll conclude by offering that there needs to be a conversation about Christian limitarianism. Or, better, to draw on the ancient roots of this tradition, a wider conversation about what constitutes enough - sufficientia - both in terms of individual lives and for institutions. I fully agree with limitarian philosophers that this is a conversation that the earth itself is requiring us to have, and in the ascetic tradition as well as Pelagian writings on wealth, the Church has ancient sources to draw on to lead in this area in an authentic way.
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[1] Grossi, V. (2014). PELAGIUS (ca. 354--ca.427) - PELAGIANS - PELAGIANISM. In A. Di Berardino, Encyclopedia of ancient Christianity. InterVarsity Press. Credo Reference: http://ezproxy.cul.columbia.edu/login?qurl=https%3A%2F%2Fsearch.credoreference.com%2Fcontent%2Fentry%2Fivpacaac%2Fpelagius_ca_354_ca_427_pelagians_pelagianism%2F0%3FinstitutionId%3D1878
[2] Peter Brown, Through the Eye of a Needle: Wealth, the Fall of Rome, and the Making of Christianity in the West, 350-550 AD, Location: 7,402
[3] Malavasi, Giulio. ‘Pelagius’. Brill Encyclopedia of Early Christianity Online. Ed. David G.Hunter, Paul J.J. vanGeest, & Bert JanLietaert Peerbolte. Brill Reference Online. Web. 29 Sept. 2020.
[4] Hengstmengel, Joost W. ‘Wealth’. Brill Encyclopedia of Early Christianity Online. Ed. David G.Hunter, Paul J.J. vanGeest, & Bert JanLietaert Peerbolte. Brill Reference Online. Web. 29 Sept. 2020.
[5] Hengstmengel, Joost W. ‘Wealth’. Brill Encyclopedia of Early Christianity Online. Ed. David G.Hunter, Paul J.J. vanGeest, & Bert JanLietaert Peerbolte. Brill Reference Online. Web. 29 Sept. 2020.
[5A] Stender, Hennie. "Economics in the Church Fathers" in Oxford Handbook of Christianity and Economics. Page 27.
[6] Chrysostom, Hom. on 1 Tim. xii - quoted in Stander, Hennie “Economics in Church Fathers” Oxford
[7] Brown, Peter. Through the Eye of a Needle: Wealth, the Fall of Rome, and the Making of Christianity in the West, 350-550 AD. Location 7,631
[8] Brown, Peter. Through the Eye of a Needle: Wealth, the Fall of Rome, and the Making of Christianity in the West, 350-550 AD. Location 7,546
[9] Brown, Peter. Through the Eye of a Needle: Wealth, the Fall of Rome, and the Making of Christianity in the West, 350-550 AD. Location 7,567
[10] Brown, Peter. Through the Eye of a Needle: Wealth, the Fall of Rome, and the Making of Christianity in the West, 350-550 AD. Locations 7,555 and 7,565
[11] Brown, Peter. Through the Eye of a Needle: Wealth, the Fall of Rome, and the Making of Christianity in the West, 350-550 AD. Location 7,573
[12] OxFam International - https://www.oxfam.org/en/press-releases/worlds-billionaires-have-more-wealth-46-billion-people
[13] Ingrid Robeyns (2019) What, if Anything, is Wrong with Extreme Wealth?, Journal of Human Development and Capabilities, 20:3, 251-266, DOI: 10.1080/19452829.2019.1633734
[14] Clement of Alexandria, The Rich Young Ruler, in Helen Rhee’s Wealth and Poverty in Early Christianity. Ad Fontes: Early Christian Sources.Location 844
[15] Peter Brown, Through the Eye of a Needle: Wealth, the Fall of Rome, and the Making of Christianity in the West, 350-550 AD. Location: 7,628
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