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1 November 2026 | St Michael’s Church, Kelburn
Jonathan Boston
Texts: Leviticus 25: 1-17, 39-43; Micah 6: 1-8; Luke 12: 13-21
The average attention span for people listening to a lecture or sermon is barely 10 minutes. Fortunately, this is longer that the average attention span for viewing a single screen before switching to another one or something else, which is estimated at a mere 47 seconds. Either way, I have little time before you all switch off, switch out or switch over to more rewarding mental activity.
Tim has asked me to discuss the theology and ethics of inequality, specifically the inequality of incomes, wealth, resources and opportunities. It is a vital, yet massive and controversial topic. The relevant academic and theological literatures are vast. I can only scratch the surface. My prayer is that my brief reflections will inspire further digging, so that you get beneath the surface into the gritty ethical questions and public policy challenges.
The Judeo-Christian tradition holds that all human beings enjoy an intrinsic, immeasurable and equal dignity or worth. This is because all people are created in the image of God and are equally loved by God – a God, who in Christ, calls every person to share in life in the Spirit through love, faith and hope.
Our worth, in short, is God-given; it is a sacred gift. It cannot be earned. Moreover, our dignity is inalienable: we cannot give it up or relinquish it; nor can others take our dignity away.
Further, all people are created equal: that is, we all enjoy equal moral worth or value. This means we possess a radical and intrinsic equality regardless of our gender, ethnicity, social status, cultural background, income or wealth. As the Apostle Paul proclaims in Galatians 3:28: “there is neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, nor is there male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus”.
Over recent centuries, this remarkable credal affirmation of our God-given dignity and equality has been embodied in many important national and international declarations, agreements and other documents. The American Declaration of Independence of 4 July 1776 is one such example. To quote, with some minor updates to reflect modern language:
We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all human beings are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain inalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness. That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted by people, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed.
Likewise, the Preamble to the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, 1948, refers to: “the inherent dignity … and equal and inalienable rights of all members of the human family” and proclaims these as “the foundation of freedom, justice and peace …”. Accordingly, “human rights should be protected by law …”.
Tragically, for millennia vast proportions of humanity have not been treated with dignity, nor equality: innumerable people have been enslaved, brutalized, tortured, starved to death, cut into pieces, gassed, sexually violated, blown up, eaten and much else. …
Witness, for instance, the recent documentary film, NAZA, which provides gruelling first-hand accounts of the so-called “collateral damage” inflicted on innocent people during the ongoing Israeli pursuit of Hamas in Gaza following the horrific Hamas attack on 7 October 2023.
Today, despite generations of worthy and dedicated efforts, often led and inspired by Christians around the world, protecting human dignity and human rights remains a daunting challenge, as does honouring the extraordinary value that God has bestowed on every member of the human family. Vast abuses of human rights pervade the world. Grave injustices are perpetrated daily.
It is estimated, for instance, that close to 50 million people are currently afflicted by modern slavery, including 12 million children, with about 27 million people in forced labour, and 22 million in forced marriage. Women and young girls are disproportionately affected.
Forcibly displaced people number about 1 in every 70 globally – or around 120 million people. Genocide, ecocide, war crimes and other crimes against humanity continue to disfigure and plague the human family.
And in recent years, the United States, the country perhaps most responsible for the rules-based international order and rights-based conventions of the past 80 years, has been deliberately and systematically undermining that order, along with the institutions essential for its effective operation.
Compounding matters, there are profound inequalities of income and wealth, both between and within nations (see handout). According to Forbes – the American business magazine – there are currently around 3,400 billionaires in the world, almost 90% men. Their combined wealth is approaching US$20 trillion; that is roughly equivalent to the gross domestic product of the European Union, with 450 million people, or China, with 1.4 billion people. Earlier this year, Elon Musk was estimated, albeit only briefly, to have net assets exceeding US$1 trillion in value. Meanwhile, at the bottom end of the income distribution, hundreds of millions continue to live in severe poverty, with insecure food and shelter.
According to the 2026 Global Inequality Report produced by the international charity Oxfam, the 12 richest people on the planet have more wealth than the poorest 50% of people – or more than 4 billion. In 2025, the rate of increase in the wealth of billionaires was three times faster than the average increase during the previous five years, driven partly by the AI boom.
Extreme concentrations of wealth are damaging in multiple ways. They challenge long-held notions of fairness or distributive justice. They reduce social mobility. They enable the fortunate to buy political influence, privilege, social status and honours. Wealth, after all, readily translates into political power through lobbying and partisan donations. Globally, for instance, billionaires are 4,000 times more likely to hold political office than ordinary people. This, in turn, undermines democratic legitimacy and corrodes the integrity of democratic institutions and processes. Almost certainly, the rise of populist, illiberal and extremist social movements in many democracies is at least partly due to the increase in socio-economic inequality over recent decades.
Extreme income and wealth inequality is also socially corrosive and divisive. It sets people apart. Citizens end up living radically different lives with vastly different experiences and opportunities, not least in relation to their education, health care, housing and employment. As a result, many people feel left behind, marginalized, disaffected, disenfranchised, resentful and alienated. Not only does the chasm of wealth and opportunity foster understandable grievances, but it also undermines social trust, reduces empathy and compassion, and weakens the moral norms and invisible bonds that weave societies together.
Yet another problem warrants mention: rich people contribute disproportionately to environmental harm. Globally, the world’s richest 10% of people by income are responsible for around 50% of global greenhouse gas emissions, while the world’s poorest 50% by income are responsible for only 8% of emissions. Within countries like Aotearoa, the top 10% of income earners are probably responsible for at least 25% of the country’s emissions, while the bottom 10% are responsible for less than 5%, a ratio of 5-to-1.
Here in Aotearoa income and wealth inequality, assessed on a range of measures, increased significantly during the 1980s and 1990s, partly due to major changes in tax policy and the welfare state. Today, our society is marred by ongoing gender inequalities, severe and deeply entrenched ethnic inequalities, and substantial intragenerational and intergenerational inequalities.
Baby boomers like me have reaped all manner of policy-related advantages, along with multiple educational and employment opportunities, many of which have been unavailable, and will likely remain unavailable, to subsequent generations – namely, generations Y (1981-96), Z (1997-2012), Alpha (2013-24), and Beta (2025-39). For instance, when I left school in the mid-1970s, the rate of unemployment in Aotearoa was 0.25% of the workforce or about 3,000 people; the rate in late 2026 is about 5.6% or more than 20 times higher. Moreover, by failing to address the major environmental challenges of the past half century, globally my generation is bequeathing enormous costs and risks to multiple current and future generations.
And now a potentially greater threat arises: artificial intelligence seems destined to exacerbate existing socio-economic inequalities and concentrate enormous wealth in even fewer hands – robotic or otherwise.
Here in Wellington and within this congregation we face stark economic contrasts and challenges. Some people enjoy huge salaries and/or substantial assets, while many others are burdened by large and rising debts, including hefty student loans, with little prospect of ever owning a home. Some people have numerous job opportunities while others struggle to find any kind of paid employment, let alone a fulfilling or meaningful job. Across the city, many are homeless or lack the means to keep themselves warm or adequately fed.
How, as Christians, should be think about and respond to such situations. Is gross income and wealth inequality something we should care about? Should we only care about material hardship and poverty, and ignore the current vast inequality of capacities, resources and opportunities? How should we respond to the risk of increasing intergenerational inequality and injustice? What are the relevant Biblical principles and theological considerations? What might Jesus say if He were preaching this sermon? And specifically, what is God calling us to do, whether as individuals, as a congregation, as citizens of Aotearoa, or as part of the wider human family?
Let us start with the Old Testament: the book of Leviticus – probably not your usual bedtime reading – contains what are called the Levitical decrees. These cover a wide range of moral, legal and cultural matters, including the fundamental moral commandment, quoted by Jesus in the Gospels of Matthew and Mark, to ‘love your neighbour as yourself” (Leviticus 19:18).
Highly relevant to economic inequality are the decrees or regulations in chapter 25 of Leviticus relating to the Sabbath Year (that is, every 7th year) and the Jubilee Year (that is, every 50th year), along with the so-called gleaning laws in chapter 19, those relating to the payment of interest (chapter 25) and those concerned with tithing (chapter 27).
At least five vital theological and ethical principles underpin the regulations in Leviticus.
First, the Earth is the Lord’s: all land and resources are owned by God; human beings are mere stewards, tenants or leaseholders. To quote Leviticus 25:23: God states, ‘The land must not be sold permanently, because the land is mine and you reside in my land as foreigners and strangers.’ To underpin this principle, during the Year of Jubilee, all inherited land that had been sold due to poverty or debt was to be returned to its original family clan, free of charge (Leviticus 25:10). Similarly, those who had sold themselves into indentured servitude to pay off debts were to be set free.
Related to this, a second principle is evident: everyone should have a stake in the economy and society, and thereby able to enjoy a sense of belonging and self-esteem, together with the means and opportunities to participate in, and contribute to, the productive life of their community. In other words, no one should be permanently excluded or marginalised. Notice that the idea of all citizens being able to ‘participate and belong’ to their community was a core principle of the Royal Commission on Social Security here in Aotearoa in 1972.
Third, a key goal of the Levitical decrees was to prevent systemic, long-term poverty and material hardship, including intergenerational poverty and long-term dependence on charity. This principle is reflected in the periodic requirement for all debts between Israelites to be cancelled (Deuteronomy 15:1-2).
Fourth, the Levitical decrees sought to preserve human dignity by enabling people to retain their agency and contribute directly to meeting their needs through various forms of work. Under the gleaning laws, for instance (see chapter 19), farmers were forbidden from harvesting right up to the edge of their fields or picking up all the dropped grapes and olives. Instead, these leftovers were reserved by law for the poor, widows, orphans and foreigners. In short, the most vulnerable people were to be enabled to feed themselves, and thus preserve their dignity and self-respect through manual labour rather than having to beg for charity.
Fifth and finally, the Levitical decrees embody a principle of solidarity or collective responsibility for the least advantaged members of the society. This principle was expressed in the restrictions on charging interest to those who were financially distressed (Leviticus 25:35-37) and the collection of a special tithe every third year to help feed widows, orphans and foreigners (Deuteronomy 14:28-29).
Sadly, there is no evidence that the Year of Jubilee was ever implemented in the manner prescribed in Leviticus, no doubt because those who acquired land and resources were unwilling to give it up freely. And there was no public authority that could enforce the regulations. Nevertheless, the ethical goals of the Year of Jubilee and related decrees are clear: upholding human dignity; preventing a permanent underclass of destitute and vulnerable people; preventing permanent slavery or servitude; enabling families who fell on hard times for one reason or another to have a fresh start; and avoiding the concentration of wealth in the hands of a small, entrenched, permanent elite.
How such principles might best be applied today in countries like Aotearoa is open to debate. Two major challenges arise: first, the economies and societies of advanced industrialized democracies in 2026 are radically different in all manner of relevant respects to the technologically unsophisticated, largely agrarian, peasant societies of Old Testament times. Second, the Levitical decrees were designed primarily for a specific faith community rather than a pluralistic, multicultural and secular state.
That said, all five ethical principles have policy relevance today, as does the fundamental moral imperative to protect the equal and inalienable dignity of every person, irrespective of their backgrounds and circumstances. Doing justice, in short, is no less pertinent today than in Old Testament times. The God who inspired the principles in Leviticus and challenged the people of God to live just and righteous lives, continues to require justice today, including distributive justice.
Turning quickly to the New Testament: from the Gospel accounts, Jesus clearly said a great deal about economic matters, including inequality and the pursuit of wealth. Based on his many parables, such as the Parables of the Rich Fool and the Rich Young Ruler, and numerous other teachings, Jesus emphasized at least three vital principles.
First, an abundant or true life – or what is genuinely valuable – does not consist in, and cannot be based upon, the abundance or hoarding of material possessions (Luke 12:15). Jesus told his followers to store up riches in Heaven, not riches on Earth, where moth and rust destroy (Matt: 6, 19-21). We need to be rich towards God and our neighbours, not rich in material possessions. We should regard material wealth not as the goal or end of life, but simply as an instrumental good which serves wider purposes – the common good, the development of communities and the meeting of human needs.
Moreover, a focus on pursuing wealth for its own sake runs the risk of choking our spiritual life and trapping the heart. Instead of possessing our possessions, they come to possess us. They take hold of us and rule our lives.
Second, and related to this, Jesus warned against all kinds of greed: “watch out and be on your guard against all kinds of greed” (Luke 12:15). Our hearts should be directed at the love of God, not the love of money or riches. Moreover, as Jesus highlighted in the Sermon on the Mount: “No one can serve two masters” … you “cannot serve both God and money” (Matthew 6:24). Compare this warning with the financial greed and corruption we witness around the world today.
Third, Jesus commended radical generosity, open-hearted hospitality and a profound love and abiding care for the poor and needy; we are to use our resources responsibly for the wellbeing of the whole community, above all the poor, vulnerable and marginalized. To quote from Mary’s song: “He has cast down the mighty from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly; he has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty” (Luke 1:52-53).
What does all this mean for us today, not least with a general election looming? In brief:
First, God calls upon all of us, in the words of the Prophet Micah (6:8), to ‘do justice, to love mercy, and to walk humbly’. As individuals and families, therefore, we must be generous, show hospitality, care for the marginalized and vulnerable, speak for the afflicted, be fair and reasonable in all our economic dealings, support organisations and social movements that are seeking greater justice, resist all kinds of greed and be satisfied with, and thankful for, having enough to meet our needs. These requirements are not optional; they are central to our discipleship, to loving our neighbours across space and time, and thus honouring the Lord’s prayer, that God’s Kingdom will come on Earth, as it is in Heaven.
To quote Henri Nouwen, the Catholic theologian and priest: ‘To encounter God, means embracing downward mobility’. That is, it means a willingness to reject the world's pursuit of status, power, and wealth and instead to follow the humble path of Jesus Christ – to serve the least and the lost. This is genuinely counter-cultural. It is a far cry from the so-called ‘prosperity Gospel’ that has captivated and ensnared parts of the Christian community in recent decades.
Second, gross inequality raises issues for us as a congregation: what kind of church is God calling us to be or become? How are we, as a community of faith, to live out the Gospel of grace collectively and be a witness to God’s love and justice in this unequal world? How might we be a sign of hope, a witness to a different and better world? I don’t pretend to have lots of answers. But I am sure we need to address such questions.
Finally, as citizens in a pluralistic democracy we face the challenge of how to protect human dignity and honour the vital moral conviction that all people are of equal moral value and deserve equal rights. Moreover, here in Aotearoa, we also have a duty to recognize, based in part on Te Tiriti o Waitangi, the distinctive place of Māori in our national life and the relevance in certain contexts of group-specific rights.
Precisely what social or distributive justice requires in Aotearoa in late 2026 is open to debate, but at a minimum, from a Christian perspective, we should seek to ensure that all citizens have sufficient resources to live meaningful lives, to meet their basic material needs, to be able to participate and belong to the society and to contribute productively, wherever able, to their communities and the wider economy.
But other matters deserve our attention. Realistically, we cannot prevent some people becoming extremely wealthy: a dynamic market economy invariably gives certain people lucky breaks, as well as unintended and tragic losses; asset prices are bound to fluctuate to the advantage of some and the disadvantage of others. But as a society we can, if we so choose, minimize the extent to which wealth can be deployed to undermine and corrupt our democratic institutions and governmental processes.
We can also embrace various policy tools to enhance social mobility, minimise the concentration of wealth in a few hands across multiple generations, and minimize tax evasion and tax havens. Further, through our voices and our votes, we can foster a political culture committed to genuine human equality, solidarity and collective responsibility, and a moral climate that honours compassion and generosity, not one that celebrates the amassing and hoarding of great wealth – as with the rich fool.
Above all, we must seek with all our hearts and minds the profound wisdom, sacrificial love and redeeming power of God to transform our society, to pursue the common good, and to strive for greater justice and peace globally and locally. Surely, such goals should be central to our Christian calling at this pivotal, perilous and unprecedented period of human history.
