The Big Blasphemous Bill

In Washington, a new piece of legislation glides forward on patriotic branding and moral ambition. The One Big Beautiful Bill Act, as it’s called, promises economic growth, national renewal, and family empowerment. But beneath the shimmering language of prosperity lies a troubling philosophy — one that recasts the U.S. citizen as a market participant above all else and reshapes public policy into a liturgy for the god of the economy. 

Several sections of the bill emphasize that a person’s economic output should be what determines their worth and the benefits they receive for living in the United States. Food assistance under SNAP is now contingent on proving one’s usefulness in the workforce, and access to Medicaid is framed as a reward for monthly productivity. Colleges are penalized based on their graduates’ loan repayment rates, reducing education to a measure of economic return, while student aid is calculated not by need but by the expected value of a student’s future earnings. Even newborns are cast as future market participants, with state-seeded “Trump Accounts” designed to train them in contribution and market value from infancy. These provisions redefine public goods not as a matter of justice or care, but as a transactional reward for economic performance.

The bill, which lawmakers are aiming to pass July 4, encodes a worldview that valorizes self-reliance, moralizes wealth, and reduces citizenship to a transaction. It assumes that human worth can be measured by productivity, that those who receive assistance should earn it through compliance, and that belonging in a national community must be demonstrated economically.

The ethical logic here has little to do with preserving democratic ideals and has more in common with the author and philosopher Ayn Rand. Her objectivist philosophy, long a current beneath American political discourse, rejects altruism, elevates individualism, and dismisses collective obligation.

The Big Beautiful Bill supports the idea of individual selfishness, where altruism is viewed as a weakness. This bill reflects that by stripping programs of compassion and replacing them with contracts of compliance.

While lawmakers claim to be championing the prosperity of all Americans, the primary beneficiaries of this bill would be owners of big businesses and the top echelons of our society. This bill, if passed, will deliver a few hundred dollars in tax relief to a family making $40,000, while families making $400,000 will see thousands in breaks. This is clear evidence that this “One Big Beautiful Bill” is far more generous to high earners than it is to everyday, working class Americans.

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This legislation is emblematic of the Make America Great Again movement. Sold as an investment in the next generation, it functions as an ideological seed bank: Children who are American enough, documented enough, and tax-advantaged enough will grow up with a savings vehicle tailored for the state’s economic goals. This isn’t policy, it’s formation. These children aren’t being prepared for civic engagement. They’re being trained to compete.

What’s missing here is a deeper vision of human dignity. Not one grounded in merit or productivity, but one grounded in the simple truth that every human being has value before they produce a single thing. That our worth does not begin with a Social Security number. That our belonging is not determined by how well we perform economically.

In Fratelli Tutti, the late Pope Francis warned against these evils, as such an economic perspective perpetuates injustices, social exclusion, and environmental degradation. In other words, if economic performance is the priority, then the common good is not taken into account. Francis’ encyclical calls on the economic sector to be subordinated to the service of people. There needs to be a moral limit on the market so that everyone can live with dignity and have what they need. Christ tells us that consumerism can enslave us and leave us unfulfilled (Luke 12:15). Christ also warns against turning the market into a god — some things shouldn’t be for sale (Matthew 6:24; 16:26).

There needs to be a moral limit on the market so that everyone can live with dignity and have what they need.

When we equate wealth with moral goodness, we turn money into an idol and overlook the grace at the heart of the gospel. Tying someone’s dignity or belonging to their economic production denies the radical welcome Jesus offers to all, especially the vulnerable. A society that sits on a foundation of competition and control, rewarding only the compliant and self-reliant, forgets the call to mercy, justice, and community (Micah 6:8).

The market is not God. But this bill, with all its promise and polish, flirts with that blasphemy. It elevates market logic to moral logic. It treats tax brackets as indicators of virtue. It excludes the vulnerable in the name of order. It forgets that a just society does not begin by sorting the deserving from the undeserving, but by recognizing that all of us, in some way, fall short and are still worthy of care and consideration.

The market is not God. But this bill, with all its promise and polish, flirts with that blasphemy.

For citizens, there is an invitation here to consider not just what policies we support, but what they reveal about who we are becoming. Are we building a future where the dignity of each person is honored, regardless of their output? Or are we building a future where only the strong and the profitable thrive?

This isn’t about Left or Right. It’s about what we worship. And the warning is clear: When the economy becomes our god, we begin to sacrifice people on its altar.

We can choose another way. We can protect the vulnerable, honor the incarcerated, welcome the stranger, and trust that our shared life is richer when no one is left out. That kind of politics would be truly beautiful. It remains out of reach not because it has been tried and found difficult, but because it is difficult and so remains untried.