The approach of Christmas always casts a playful light on the awkward relations between capitalism and Christian ideals.

An indispensable annual binge for the modern consumer economy, the Yuletide also brings forth predictable tidings of great indignation over "commercialism" and "greed."

But in recent years we've hardly needed Christmas to remind us of the tension between Christianity's charitable values and consumer capitalism's competitive ones. We've had Pope Francis to remind us, and he never tires of the theme.

Just in recent weeks, Francis declared to one audience: "The poor must not be seen as a means to making a profit!"

Elsewhere, he lamented that "the struggle against hunger … is hindered by market priorities, the primacy of profit, which have reduced foodstuffs to a commodity like any other, subject to speculation …"

These are merely recent additions to a much-discussed stream of left-leaning, populist pronouncements from Francis since his election as pope in 2013. The anti-materialist spirit is nothing new in church teaching, but Francis brings more plain-spoken zest to this message than his predecessors did (as to most things).

The passion of Francis is part of his charm, of course, and part of his virtue. His personal and institutional humility, his emphasis on forgiveness and tolerance — and not least his intense focus on world poverty — all mark him as a wise and good spiritual leader with gifts to help heal the challenged church he leads.

But precisely because Francis is so widely admired, his sweeping and overly simple condemnations of profits and markets and speculation and the rest are worrisome to those of us who think free markets, for all their limitations, are a big part of what's needed to win the struggle against hunger and poverty around the world.

To be sure, the disconnect between religious ideals and practical economics goes back rather a long way. Consider the Gospels' "Parable of the Generous Employer" (Matthew 20: 1-16). It tells of a landowner who hired workers all through the day, paid them all the identical daily wage — whether they'd worked one hour or 12 — and then scolded all-day laborers who complained that they deserved a bit more than the latecomers.

Read as a metaphor for "the kingdom of heaven," the parable delivers good news that salvation awaits all who see the light, however long it takes. But if actually adopted as an earthly payroll policy, this extravagant equality could create some problematic incentives.

In today's world, as Tim Worstall recently put it in Forbes, Francis should perhaps consider that "it's the places with well functioning markets, subject to all that horrible speculation and profit making, that have the people who are not malnourished and not starving."

Yes. I'd add that being "seen as a means to making a profit" is in fact precisely what the poor do need.

An employee, after all, is "a means to making a profit" for his employer. That's ultimately the reason any job exists.

Pure charity is essential to comforting the poor in their poverty; the pope's call for more of it is noble and right. But in the Third World or the rich world, helping the poor find a "profitable" economic function is the only path to prosperity and freedom.

The dark image of "profit" that Francis seems often to share — profit as something essentially illegitimate and unnecessary, something almost pilfered — fuels a lot of misunderstanding.

Profit is nothing more than the price that has to be paid for the use of capital (accumulated savings). It is to capital what wages are to labor — no more mysterious or less necessary.

But this distaste for capitalism's motives — regardless of its results — brings us close to the bedrock friction between market capitalism and charitable ideals, Christian or otherwise.

About a year ago, in a major address decrying inequality, Francis made a particularly curious statement, condemning "trickle-down economics" for "a crude and naive trust in the goodness of those wielding economic power."

This is an error so basic that it makes you wonder whether the pope even fully understands what it is he dislikes about capitalism.

Crude and naive free-market ideology may be — but not in overestimating the "goodness" of business leaders, or anyone else. As immortally defined by Adam Smith through his "invisible hand" metaphor, free-market theory rests on the paradoxical but unsentimental notion that self-interest is what gets most people moving, and self-interest will inspire most of us to serve the needs of other people ("as a means to making a profit," you might say) more energetically than generous feelings will.

Trouble is, there is little conscious virtue in an economic system fueled by self-interest. And for moral idealists, the pursuit of virtue, the overcoming of selfishness, is close to life's central purpose — maybe more important in the end than meeting practical goals like feeding the hungry or improving living standards.

Competitive market economies do have a dark side; some of their failings, like inequality, seem to be getting worse. They need regulation and safety nets; they are not whole social systems.

But all that acknowledged, market capitalism has brought many blessings to the world. It needs to play a continuing vital role in the fight against hunger and poverty.

Pope Francis has made it pretty clear that this is not an aspect of the economic question he will be illuminating as much as some of us would like.

But he's also made it easy to be confident that he will forgive us for wishing he would.

D.J. Tice is at Doug.Tice@startribune.com.