Greed's Pull

And how to resist it

May 06, 2025

Salvadoran Refugees in Mesa Grande Refugee Camp, ©Dorothy Greco

If I was offered the choice between being rich or being poor, I’d choose the former.

Apparently, I’m not alone. A recent article in The Atlantic reports the desire to get rich is “the most American of desires.” Sixty percent of Americans want to become billionaires according to a 2022 Harris poll. (It wasn’t that long ago that the mark of wealth was a mere million.) At the end of 2024, there were 813 billionaires in the US. If only 813 people (mostly men) out of 340 million US residents have achieved this goal, the odds are stacked against us.

Not only do we pursue wealth, we venerate and practically worship those who are wealthy. Elon Musk is listed as the wealthiest man in the world with a net worth of $342 billion. He makes approximately $874 per second. Mark Zuckerberg takes the #2 slot at $216 billion, followed closely by Jeff Bezos, at $215 billion. Donald Trump’s net worth is murky but certainly, his wealth is part of what draws people to him. These men are among the most revered and sought after in the world. One site listed Bezos’ speaking fee between $2 and $6 million. For one gig. Why would anyone pay that sum of money for an hour-long talk? And why would Bezos feel the need to charge that amount given his net worth?

I’ve never had a conversation with anyone who has that kind of wealth so I can only speculate. As our most recent election demonstrated, money translates to power and influence. Power and influence provide comfort, popularity, protection, and prestige. These are seductive perks. I’d love to not stress about how my husband and I are going to pay for necessary dental procedures—few of which are covered by insurance. I imagine that buffer from everyday worries must be rather nice.

However, it can’t be all gain. There’s a cost to chasing wealth. For one, contentment seems elusive. Bezos’ main home is 22,000 square feet. He has two other residences adding another 25,000 square feet of living space. Musk reportedly owns eleven cars. How many houses, vehicles, or watches does one really need? Scripture suggests “Whoever loves wealth is never satisfied with his income.” (Ecc. 5:10)

The gnawing feeling of “never enoughness” and the pursuit of more sometimes points to greed. Jesus issued some of his harshest warnings about greed and the love of money, including, “No one can serve two masters. For you will hate one and love the other; you will be devoted to one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and be enslaved to money.” (Matt. 6:24) When we sow to greed, we reap discontent and envy. Money becomes an unrelenting master, as depicted by Mr. Potter, in It’s a Wonderful Life, and Gordon Gekko, in Wall Street. These two men are ruthless in their pursuit of more. Others become pawns on their chessboards.

It’s all too easy to criticize and denounce Bezos, Musk, and Zuckerberg’s oppulent lifestyles. But if I’m honest, the line between greed and enoughness can be tough to discern.

To be clear, it’s not wrong or sinful to be wealthy. And certainly, the longing or hope for more money is not always motivated by greed. Anyone who experiences a catastrophic health crisis or who has pre-existing health conditions that are not covered by insurance would understandably prefer not to go into crushing debt. As my husband and I inch closer to retirement age and realize that our nest egg resembles that of a hummingbird’s, I can feel resistant to being as generous now as we were in our forties or fifties. I wonder if I’m yielding to fear and greed or simply being prudent about our future. How can any of us know what we need to safely retire in an unpredictable world?* Market crashes or downturns can set us back five to ten years, and we may not have five to ten years to recoup.

As person of faith, I’m well aware that the Scripture admonishes me not to worry about my physical needs. Almost every time I admit feeling anxious about our finances, a fellow believer will remind me our heavenly Father owns the cattle on a thousand hills and is mindful of what the lowly sparrow needs. I get this. At least in theory. But because I’ve watched responsible friends lose their homes due to sudden unemployment and know that everyday, approximately 10,000 children die from hunger related causes, these passages fail to comfort me. In fact, I find them a bit troubling.

There are three practices that have helped me resist the pull of greed and the anxiety that accompanies financial shortfalls: empathy, gratitude, and generosity.

Thirty-five years ago, photography work took me to a refugee camp in Honduras. The Salvadorans who lived there had been confined to the small, deforested mesa for seven years. Though they lived in extreme poverty, they shared their meager portions with me and found pockets of joy in their day to day existence. Their perspective humbled me.

Salvadoran refugees at Mesa Grande, ©Dorothy Greco

Several years later, I had another assignment that similarly challenged me. Like many North Americans who have never struggled with homelessness, it can be all to easy for me to ignore those who ask for money on street corners. That changed when I spent time documenting runaway teens in Hollywood. As I listened to their stories of abuse, neglect, and abandonment, I could no longer judge and overlook these ones. I stood with them on Hollywood Boulevard as they held up cardboard signs asking for money and then watched them use those quarters and dollar bills to buy a meager dinner of hot dogs and Coke.

In both of these situations, my proximity to their pain and suffering invited me to move from indifference to empathy. (And maybe that’s part of the problem for the super rich. They tend to live insulated lives.) That shift then helped me to become more grateful and more generous.

Being grateful helps us to focus on our present tense lives, including the contents of our pantry, the friends who love us, and the imperfect church or volunteer community that welcomes us week after week.

I struggled with envy for a good portion of my life. I coveted lake-side homes, European vacations, and Leica cameras. Defeating envy has required active resistance. When I was still unhappily single, another unmarried friend and I were kvetching about our dateless lives. In a moment of inspiration, she suggested we speak out all of the blessings in our lives. We did this for almost two hours and when we ran out of things to name, both of us were giddy.

There’s always something we can be thankful for. (And I write that as someone who has lived with chronic health issues for twenty-five years.) Whether you express that gratitude in a journal, out loud with your family, or silently in prayer, practicing gratitude is a game changer. (It does not negate our need to cry and lament in the midst of loss or injustice.)

One of the consequences of empathy and gratitude should be generosity, which, I think, is the ultimate antidote to greed. Generosity allows us to love others in the most practical of ways. Throughout the course of our marriage, my husband and I have faced a few serious financial challenges. Every single time, friends have helped us meet our need. I have no idea if any of these people are millionaires but they all “live simply so that others can simply live”** and give without any expectation of being reimbursed. It’s been remarkable to me to witness their generosity.

Some members of the billionaires’ club understand the power of sharing their wealth. Warren Buffett has donated 30% of his fortune, totaling $62 billion. In 2024, MacKenzie Scott (former spouse of Jeff Bezos) gave away $2.6 billion, and promises to keep giving until, as she wrote in a 2019 essay, “the safe is empty.” But not enough of ultra rich get this. In fact, it often seems as if the larger their larder, the more stingy they become.

Take paying taxes. It confounds and angers me that many of the wealthiest Americans find ways around paying taxes. Rather than understanding their moral and fiscal responsibility, they work the system. A recent article by ProPublica claimed, “IRS records show that the wealthiest can—perfectly legally—pay income taxes that are only a tiny fraction of the hundreds of millions, if not billions, their fortunes grow each year.” Bezos, Zuckerberg, and Musk paid tax on less than 5% of their wealth. My husband and I pay roughly 25% on our annual income.*** I don’t know how else to explain their behavior apart from greed.

If even a small portion of the ultra rich had a change of heart and understood their wealth as a means to serve others, much suffering could be eradicated.

We tend to locate extreme poverty in places like Sudan or Haiti, but there is extreme poverty here in the United States. (The federal poverty level is $30,900 annual income, per family of four. Approximately 43 million Americans, or almost 13%, qualify as poor.) It is estimated that 14 million children inside our borders live with food insecurity. That’s a lot of hungry kids.

We have the resources to eradicate hunger in our country. (We could make a serious dent in homelessness too, though that’s a much more complex issue than hunger.) Tragically, we just don’t seem to care enough to make this happen. Several years ago, Musk was challenged by the director of the UN to donate $6 billion, 1.4% of his net worth, to help end world hunger. Instead, he gave that amount to his own organization. (The Musk Foundation supports renewable energy, space exploration, and pediatric research, among other things.) Think about this. By giving up just a small fraction of his wealth, Musk could make a serious dent in world hunger—and still be a billionaire. He chose not to.

I do believe God provides food for the cattle and the sparrows through his creation. I also believe he calls us to feed and clothe those who are in need. The problem isn’t that God withholds his generosity: it’s that too many human beings prefer to exclude the needy from their bountiful tables over sharing what was never truly theirs in the first place.

Jesus reportedly told his disciples, “Sell your possessions and give to those in need. This will store up treasure for you in heaven! And the purses of heaven never get old or develop holes. Your treasure will be safe; no thief can steal it and no moth can destroy it. Wherever your treasure is, there the desires of your heart will also be.” (Luke 12) This is a challenging word. And one that all of us should heed.

The truth is, I am rich. Just not by worldly markers. And like the ultra wealthy, I need reminders to share what I have with a joyful heart.

What's Faith Got to Do with It?

Discussion about this post