Tithing — Religious and Secular

Your money and your values can be friends.

We can take a page from someone’s book, and make it our own: in this case, the practice of tithing.

When my father had his first bit of pay in hand, so many years ago, he took one-tenth of it and gave it to his church. And with every paycheck following, through his entire life. In the Bible, it’s called “tithing,” giving back one tenth, with gratitude. (In Islam, Zakat, is somewhat similar, and in Hinduism and Buddhism, Dāna.)

My dad tended to have conflicts with churches, and he would go through times of keeping his worship personal, and retreat from the more public practice of attending a bricks-and-mortar. At such times, he would bank his tithe in a special account or donate it elsewhere. His grandparents had been missionaries, and the role of missions was critical to him. So over his years of earning, he supported missionaries, their children, their schools. He supported an airplane pilot in Indonesia, a Bible School in Brazil, and behind the iron curtain radio ministry, broadcasting the message that meant so much to him. He liked to think he made a difference in some lives. I’d like to think my actions and choices do similarly, though in different ways.

Buy that paper

In the 80s — so long ago now it seems — I was earning not much more than minimum wage, but I remember wanting to buy unbleached paper. I used so much paper. I wrote long hand for first drafts of work, and typed, and then used a computer for later drafts. I was constantly buying paper, and the process of making that clean white stuff disturbed me. But at that time, it was new technology to create a product that was a bit less harmful for the environment, and it cost so much more. Much like buying organic food does now, or clothing not created in places of workplace horror. Or trying to get away from big box and other retailers that are killing the wonder of small businesses in which individuals have worked their passions and lives; you know who and what I mean.

I remember paying the extra, for that dingy clay-colored paper. And I remember thinking this is what it is to believe this is the right thing to do — money where mouth is.

Supporting what matters

I couldn’t help but notice this past month, accumulating numbers for my taxes, the amount I’ve spent on live music in the past year. Not much, really, depending on how you look at it. A month of Vancouver rent for one or two cohabiting musicians, is what it would amount to. And with local bands, the funds going to the restaurants and bars that host the musicians… maybe equal to another month of some musician’s rent. Maybe a food bill.

As a writer, I tend to buy books from small independent bookstores. I so want to see them continue to survive, even flourish. My personal rule for buying second-hand books has been this: the author must be rich or dead. Small number for the first group, bigger options for the second. But books written by writers who are alive and broke? I buy new.

Let’s face it: it costs more to buy from bookstores instead of the behemoth amazon; it costs more to buy groceries that are grown as they should be; it costs more to buy from small businesses. But the positives: those groceries will probably feed you in ways that mean you live longer, and feel more healthy; those small businesses mean you have human connections in your community; wearing clothing that have been created in ethical ways should last longer. But these are qualities that are difficult to “measure” — and we are partial to being able to measure everything! Sometimes the yardstick has to be about taking care and imbuing meaning.

What do you want your world to look like?

What do you enjoy? What sort of shops and restaurants do you like to frequent? What is the role of art and entertainment in your life?

How often do you thoroughly utilize these places and partake of their offerings?

Are there ways in which you spend your money now that can be modified to reflect your answers?

How do you want the world to respond to what you bring to it?

What do you want to eat, drink, wear, read, see, hear? Pay the extra — call it tithe. On a mission.