God allows unjust disparities between rich and poor because He

When Peter Kreeft wrote, “God allows unjust disparities between rich and poor because He does not miraculously intervene to establish justice against human wills. Also, discrepancies are not unjust by themselves; justice does not mean equality of result but equality of opportunity,” he spoke not as a man of politics, but as a philosopher of divine order. His words are both humbling and unsettling, for they remind us that the world’s imperfections are not signs of divine neglect, but reflections of human freedom. Kreeft’s insight pierces to the heart of moral theology: that justice, in the sight of God, is not the forced sameness of outcomes, but the fair chance for every soul to seek goodness through their own will.

Since the dawn of civilization, humanity has struggled with the question of inequality. Why does one man live in plenty while another starves? Why does fortune favor some while others labor unseen? Many have demanded that heaven intervene — that God Himself level the mountains of wealth and fill the valleys of want. Yet Kreeft reminds us that such a miracle would destroy the very essence of what makes us human: the freedom to choose righteousness. For if God were to eliminate all injustice by His hand, He would also erase the moral struggle by which the soul is refined. Free will would wither, and virtue, which is born only from choice, would vanish like mist before the sun.

Kreeft’s distinction between equality of result and equality of opportunity echoes the wisdom of both scripture and history. It was not written that all men shall possess the same measure of wealth, but that all shall be given the dignity to labor, to strive, and to act with conscience. Justice, in this divine sense, is not sameness—it is rightness. The harvest will never be equal, but the seed must be offered to all. The righteous society, then, is not one that guarantees prosperity, but one that ensures the freedom to pursue it without oppression or deceit.

Consider the life of Saint Francis of Assisi, who was born into riches but chose poverty, seeing in it not punishment but liberation. He understood that the disparity between rich and poor was not, in itself, a mark of injustice—it became unjust only when compassion failed. His father’s wealth could not corrupt him, nor could the beggar’s rags define him. He taught that what is evil is not possession, but indifference. In this way, Francis lived the truth that Kreeft later expressed: that justice flows not from enforced equality, but from hearts freely turned toward love.

The ancient philosophers, too, grasped this mystery. Aristotle spoke of distributive justice, the harmony between contribution and reward, yet even he warned against demanding equal outcomes for unequal efforts. The Stoics taught that virtue, not fortune, is the measure of happiness. Their wisdom aligns with Kreeft’s—disparity is not sin, but the misuse of freedom amid disparity is. The tyrant who hoards his power, the rich man who hardens his heart, the ruler who forgets mercy—these are the true offenders, not because they have more, but because they have closed the hand of grace.

Kreeft’s message is not to accept suffering with passivity, but to see clearly the moral landscape: that God’s silence in the face of inequality is not absence, but invitation. He invites humanity to be His hands in healing, His voice in justice, His heart in mercy. The call is not for divine intervention, but for human transformation. Where inequality exists, it is our duty—not God’s—to act in love, to create systems where opportunity flows freely, and where every soul may rise according to their strength.

And so, let this teaching be remembered: justice is freedom rightly used. The world will never be level, but it can be fair. Wealth will vary, but compassion must not. Power will concentrate, but wisdom must guide it. Let the rich give with humility, the strong protect with honor, and the poor rise with dignity. For God, in His mercy, has given us not a world of perfect balance, but a world of perfect opportunity to practice goodness. And when humanity learns to build justice not through coercion but through conscience, then—only then—shall heaven’s order reflect upon the earth.