Almost all religions are suspicious of wealth. It is not only Christianity that has traditionally praised poverty as an ideal for the saintly to follow or spoken of the difficulty for a rich man to enter the kingdom of heaven; Islam also honours mystics who despise material wealth, and Hinduism is replete with examples of holy mendicants.

There is, therefore, a strong temptation among churchmen this Christmas to seek lessons in the banking collapse and global economic downturn and argue that the West has been brought low by excessive greed. The Archbishop of Canterbury recently described the credit crunch as a welcome “reality check” and suggested the Prime Minister's economic rescue plan was “like the addict returning to the drug”. Writing in The Times today, the Archbishop of York says that, in the headlong rush for growth, the West has lost sight of the moral purpose of money. “We have all worshipped at the temple of money and we have all placed beams in our own eyes”.

Folly, greed and cupidity have undoubtedly played too great a role in driving markets and motivating consumers. There has been, for many people, something shallow and distasteful about the materialism and appeal to envy that run through so much of contemporary culture. Not a few people, and not only churchmen, have warned that society has invested too many hopes in a project that was bound to disappoint: the project of limitless growth without any end in view beyond the process itself. Indeed, deep down many probably knew that it could not last. As Jonathan Swift said when the South Sea bubble burst, “Most people thought it would come but no man prepared for it; no man considered that it would come like a thief in the night”.

Smug assertions of “I told you so” are rarely helpful, however - especially at a time when unemployment, homelessness, anxiety and hardship are rising. The equation of material wealth with spiritual poverty is also simplistic. Riches can indeed become a distraction, and it is easier to discover in oneself and in others the truths of our common humanity when these are not cluttered by materialist preoccupations.

The past decade has not been simply the headlong pursuit of Mammon, however. There has, at least in Britain, been a commitment to education, to the arts, to the happiness and health of individual citizens that has greatly improved ordinary lives. And this has not been at the expense of spiritual concerns. Rarely have faith issues seemed so important or played so central a role in public debate. The arguments about and between faiths have promoted an understanding, and in many places a tolerance, that was unknown a generation ago.

Where the gap in tolerance between rich and poor remains yawning, however, is not within developed industrial societies but between the rich North and the poor South. Wealth has allowed many in the West to accept and accommodate difference. Poverty in the developing world has narrowed viewpoints, empowered the demagogues and set tribe against tribe, group against group. Christians have understood the debilitating and dehumanising effects of poverty. Campaigns to “Make Poverty History”, to relieve debt and to encourage fair trade have been strongly motivated by the commitment of people of faith.

Wealth creation, therefore, is not the satanic temptation portrayed in religious stereotype. What matters are the means and purposes. Traditionally, Christmas symbolises the spirit of giving. Rarely has giving been so needed. Across the country, charities are cutting services, the needy are abandoned and altruism is amputated by a shortage of cash. The downturn must not be allowed to limit either tolerance, compassion or generosity. All are needed as never before.