Article
Character
Ethics
Generosity
Leading
5 min read

Elon Musk and the trillion-dollar question

What happens when generosity becomes the ultimate power move?

Sam Tomlin is a Salvation Army officer, leading a local church in Liverpool where he lives with his wife and children.

Elon Musk, in front of a glowing moon.
Musk eclipsing the moon.
Musk Foundation.

Human beings like to mark the first time things are done. The first moon landing has been immortalized; Amelia Earhart was the first woman to fly solo over the Atlantic; my football geekiness reminds me the first £1m football transfer was Trevor Francis from Birmingham City to Nottingham Forest. 

We leant recently that Elon Musk could be the first person to earn a $1 trillion remuneration package. It is not quite that simple, however, with Tesla shareholders only granting this if certain conditions are met over the course of a number of years, but the media like a good headline and seemingly this will contribute another ‘first’ for the history books. Reports suggest that Musk actually lives a fairly modest life (for a billionaire!) and he seems more driven by political and moral questions than securing a lavish lifestyle for its own sake, whether you agree with him or not. 

Questions have arisen about what could be done with $1 trillion. Apparently, this could buy every single car sold in the USA in a year, 175 billion big macs or if you are more philanthropically minded, you could surely make a dent in world hunger or global debt. If we are waiting for a big give-away from Musk, we might be waiting a while, however. In 2022 he said that it is ‘very hard to give away money effectively’ if you want tangible outcomes rather than the optics of doing good. 

What does Christian teaching have to say about excessive wealth or wealth more generally? There are over 2,000 verses in the Bible about wealth and a significant amount of Jesus’ teachings concern money. 

In his book Money and Power, theologian and sociologist Jacques Ellul suggests Christians tend to look at wealth through the lens of their society. In the West this means we look at it through economic systems. Individual action achieves little by itself so we look for systems to fix our problems, be they capitalism, Marxism, collectivism, or whatever: ‘All I have to do is campaign for socialism or conservatism, and as soon as society's problems are solved, I will be just and virtuous – effortlessly.’ As well as absolving individuals of their responsibility, this also fails to capture a key aspect of the Bible’s view of money: its personal character. Looking at wealth through economic systems assumes money is just a ‘thing’ to be used for good or bad and something about which we can approach with cool neutrality. The name Jesus gives to wealth is ‘Mammon,’ which he contrasts with God: you must choose to serve one or the other. 

Mammon is described as an agent or power from which we need to be liberated. Some Christians argue that the liberation of salvation allows them to hold onto wealth because they can possess it without being possessed. This is the standard view of wealth in the Western church. Christians have largely lost any collective sense that accumulating wealth might be a problem probably because we live in a society where our economic model relies on our greed and consumption. 

Why does Jesus say we have to choose between serving God and mammon? Quite simply because it cuts to the heart of where we put our trust. The repeated question of Bible is: where do you put your trust? In the chariots of princes, in alliances with other nations, in the health of your bank balance, or in God? Money provides the opportunity to direct the course of our lives to a significant degree. Most Christians in the West will sing about fully relying on God when in reality we put our trust in money which allows us to determine where we live, the friends we have, the very trajectory of our lives. 

This, I suggest, is the essence of the Bible’s teaching on wealth or Mammon. Even before arguments based on giving to alleviate poverty (which are far from unimportant) the question of wealth is intrinsically linked to belief that God can be trusted or not. It is not impossible to be wealthy and faithfully follow God. It is also possible to be materially poor and far from God. It is a smaller step, however, to faithfulness and the Kingdom of God from a simple life than from one of abundance and control that money gives you. When you have little, you have little other choice than to rely on God. Trust and lack of human control are literally built into the fabric of your everyday life in a way that is alien for those who live with more than they need. Learning to trust God therefore will come more naturally as it is a pattern that is familiar. 

This is not to romanticise poverty. I am a Salvation Army officer and see the crushing reality of debt, addiction and need on a regular basis. William Booth, co-founder of this Christian tradition once said, “It is impossible to comfort men's hearts with the love of God when their feet are perishing with cold.” 

In light of this, there is an act which strips the power of money more than anything else according to Christian teaching, and that is giving. It is more blessed to give than receive, says Jesus. The reason this is the case is the same for anything that can take control of our lives, be it sex, power, status or whatever. By giving we show Mammon its rightful place: service of God and humanity. If we are prepared to give something away it does not have power over us. This is why Christians consistently give portions of their income away to their church; on top of this many give to charities and/or store a pot to give away spontaneously as God leads. While it is not mandated for all, a number of notable Christian figures in history have felt a call to give the majority of their wealth away as a sign of their own freedom: St Francis, Melania and Pipanius, Leo Tolstoy to name but a few. Giving is good for the soul in Christian teaching. 

I am not an economist and don’t claim expertise on the efficiency of grand systems to alleviate the world’s problems. Despite the inherent unease at the prospect of such vast inequality represented by Musk, simply projecting all of society’s ills onto others absolves us of our complicity in inequality. From a Christian perspective maybe Musk and any of us who store up more than we need in barns as Jesus puts it, can be reminded that giving robs wealth of its tendency to ensnare and control, and this freedom can be enjoyed right now. As Paul reminds the Christians in Galatia: ‘It is for freedom you have been set free, do not let yourselves be burdened again by the yoke of slavery,’ by which Mammon and other distractions long to trap us. 

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Article
Belief
Culture
Film & TV
Identity
5 min read

Wednesday works wonders bringing the outsiders in

Tim Burton’s echoes of C.S. Lewis

Lauren Westwood works in faith engagement communications for The Salvation Army.

Wednesday Adams scowls while Enid smiles.
Wednesday and Enid.

There’s something delightfully ironic about the mainstream success of Wednesday – Netflix’s Addams Family spin-off directed by Tim Burton. With its whimsy gothic aesthetic, star-studded cast and viral TikTok dance to boot, the first season was a highly bingeable hit in 2022. This summer, the split-release of season two scored over 50 million streams in its first five days. But beyond its cult-like reception lies something deeper: a collective reckoning with identity, acceptance and the desire to belong. 

Jenna Ortega’s Wednesday Addams is an outsider among outsiders. Upon returning to Nevermore Academy – a supernatural boarding school meant to be a haven for ‘freaks, monsters and outcasts’ – she finds herself more alienated than ever. Don’t feel sorry for her: she’s difficult, destructive and I’m not sure I’d want to share a dorm with her (or her pet disembodied hand, Thing.) But that’s why we love her so much. 

Wednesday ‘taps into that sense of not quite fitting in that everyone has,’ praised Marina Hyde on her The Rest is Entertainment podcast. ‘We all feel like we’re the kind of excluded weird mad kid from Burbank, as he [Burton] was growing up.’ 

C.S. Lewis termed the phenomena of not quite fitting in as the ‘Inner Ring’ – the unwritten systems of belonging that permeate all areas of life, from early youth into old age. It can neither be fully defined nor totally avoided. Lewis suggests that all people, at some point or another, experience this ‘desire to be inside the local Ring and the terror of being left outside.’ Ultimately, he warns, this pursuit of surface-level or self-furthering belonging ‘will break your hearts unless you break it.’ 

Lewis, one of Christianity’s most profound cultural influencers, was stirring a deeper call among his fellows Christians: to remember that the gospel is not just good news for those sitting comfortably in the pews – it’s good news for those outside. It’s good news for those searching for belonging in a world that prizes conformity and feasts on exclusivity. 

Tim Burton’s genius lies in his ability to reach out, subverting the mainstream and dismantling the Inner Ring, seemingly with ease. Everyone’s an outsider, so no one is an outsider. As in Edward Scissorhands or Jack Skellington from The Nightmare before Christmas, Burton’s decision to not only tolerate but to celebrate the outcast bridges the gap between the socially excluded and socially accepted. 

The sense of belonging that Burton creates doesn’t feel twee, manufactured or forced. It isn’t the sort of embrace that comes under strait-laced conditions, either. He cultivates spaces where the strange, the sad and the misunderstood become protagonists, empowered to tell their own story. He boldly platforms that which is different, unwilling to conform or compromise. Even the visual language of his work is distinct and unashamed, and his trademark scribbled twists and turns that creep into set designs, costumes and title sequences. 

In Wednesday, this contrast is emphasised by a window that is half-spiderweb, half-kaleidoscope, dividing the room that Wednesday shares with Enid, the optimistic and bubbly roommate. They’re an extreme black-cat, golden-retriever pairing who have little in common, except for feeling that they don’t fit in. 

Their desire for belonging and acceptance looks different. Enid cares very much about how others view her, whereas Wednesday’s cold defiance masks her vulnerability to be seen, known and accepted. This symbolic shared space, and the friendship that is imposed upon Wednesday by Enid, signals a deeper truth: belonging is not found in sameness, but in recognising what connects us and how we can honour one another in spite and because of our differences. 

The subversive nature of Burton’s imagined universe holds a dim mirror to the liberating reality of God’s Kingdom.

While Burton elevates the outsider, his worlds often remain solitary and cut-off. But the Church, at its best, offers not just visibility but the embrace of fellowship. Jesus consistently chose people on the margins – lepers, tax collectors, women – and invite them into relationship. The gospel accounts for him taking less efficient travelling routes seemingly to encounter the lonely, the sick and the despised, to share news of their belonging to God, whose love for them was so strong that he would dwell not only among them, but within them through his Spirit. 

The culture of the early church was informed by Jesus’ example, and their meetings were a mosaic of cultural, ethnic and social diversity, brimming with unlikely partnerships and clashes of custom. Paul reaffirmed the concept that all are ‘one in Jesus Christ’ in his letter to the church in Galatia, declaring that ‘there is neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, nor is there male and female.’ This is not a call to erasure, but to radical inclusion. Rather than everyone being an outsider, as in Burton’s world, everyone is an insider in the Kingdom of God. 

Perhaps it isn’t about whether Tim Burton or the Church has done more for outsiders, outliers and outcasts, but to invite personal challenge: Am I willing to get used to different? To disturb my norms, routines and expectations in the name of mutual inconvenience? To embrace a little mess and chaos for the sake of greater unity? 

The subversive nature of Burton’s imagined universe holds a dim mirror to the liberating reality of God’s Kingdom, where the last are first, the poor receive a rich inheritance, and the margins become the centre. Where Burton’s audience may find solace in shared strangeness, the gospel offers something greater: a home not built on similarities and commonalities, but on divine welcome and spacious grace. And an unlimited set of keys to welcome others to their room, too. 

Support Seen & Unseen

Since Spring 2023, our readers have enjoyed over 1,500 articles. All for free. 
This is made possible through the generosity of our amazing community of supporters.

If you enjoy Seen & Unseen, would you consider making a gift towards our work?
 
Do so by joining Behind The Seen. Alongside other benefits, you’ll receive an extra fortnightly email from me sharing my reading and reflections on the ideas that are shaping our times.

Graham Tomlin
Editor-in-Chief