what the what?!?: tithing.

Disclaimer: I am nervous. I'm nervous to write honestly about sex, and tithing, and fear-mongering, and swearing, because secretly, I'm afraid. In vanity, I'm afraid of being considered spiritually immature. Though I am. But maybe not always for the content of my beliefs (though definitely sometimes). So, if you read forward, and consider me immature, know that you're right, but also that you may be culturally-bound. That aside, what I'm really afraid of is that broadcasting these conversations with myself will adversely affect my opportunities to engage, and volunteer in my church. So, if you read ahead, and have anything to do with volunteer applicants at James River, have mercy on me. In return, I promise to tell your kids whatever you want them to hear, theologically and culturally. I'll even say it age-appropriately. No filibustering to five-year-olds on differing theories of atonement.

But, onward. Without honesty, there can be no growth. So, tithing. I have problems with tithing.

It's not the money. It's really not. I enjoy giving to my pet charities. It makes me feel instrumental, and agentic, and complicit in global progress. Plus, I have that whole crazy thing about Jesus to heed. Dude gave it all. Like, ALL. Atonement aside, the literal significance of His death should move us to tears. He carried His beliefs to the fullest end. He died to preserve the purity of His message.

That's just literal. That's not including the separation from God, and atonement for sins, and the entire body of significance that we attach to His death and resurrection. But, people, if the literal alone doesn't pump you up, you might be dead. Check your pulse.

All of that to say--I've good reason to be glad to give. Check. But how to give? Where to give? Here, the waters turn dark.

My first line of defense against tithing has been a question of the causes supported by the church. "What if I give, and then later find out that the church somehow significantly contributes to something I strongly disagree with?"

But let's get real. Firstly, most every church in the country is going to give significant support to something I disagree with. Have you read this blog? I have. I know. So, there has be something less than an all-or-nothing criterium in place for me to talk about tithing. On another level, I am less discriminatory with my money in other domains of my life, and that makes my argument inconsistent. I don't know all of the business practices of The GAP, but my closet is rife with yuppie sweaters. I shop at Wal-mart, even after seeing "The high cost of low price." Busted. Ooooohhhhh.

Next: "How can I give regularly to a church, when I don't think that the church looks like what a church ought to look like?" This is trickier, and more valid. If, ultimately, "the church" should be a body of people who go out, and not a body and a building, who invite others in, we've got trouble. Even assuming that the building is cool with God, we have to ask--how much is too much? If we build a structure that encourages frivolous spending (Starbucks, giftshops, etc.), are we really getting it? "It" being the whole part where Christ was like, "Give up all your junk, and live to the point of death" (that's from the "Ashley Paraphrased Revised Standard New English Version Commentary")? If we're not getting "it," we can't possibly be giving "it," and then what we are giving might not be good. Can I support that?

Landmine. Ka-pow. Landmines all over that. On the one hand, I think I'm right. On the other, I think I need to chill out on the "false teachings"-type rhetoric. The fact is that The Church is what it is right now. That might not always be the case. Now might not be the time for massive change. There might never be a time, and if there suddenly is, the change might be massively different from how I envision it. Though this doesn't excuse churches from scrutiny regarding their financial health, I'm not sitting in a fiscally irresponsible church. I am sitting in what appears to be, by all indicators available, a healthy, prudent institution. I might not like all of what they do, but they do a brick ton of good. That should be honored.

Ok, so tithing will sometimes result in my money being used in ways I don't agree that it should be used. Weak.

I don't think the church should be as it is. But I also think there should be hover-craft already. Love, and work forward, baby.

But why tithing? Why ten percent? Why can't I just tithe to my charities, and live happily? This is not an uncommon question. I'm not alone. Unfortunately, it's as nonsensical when other people say it as when I do. Not for the reason you think. Pastors will have you believe that ten-percent tithing is an unalterable tenet of the faith. And, frankly, though this is uncomfortable--it is in their best interest to do so. There are no million-dollar homes without hefty tithes. No private jets, or Nordstrom's sprees, without profiting from God's work. And, in the face of struggling congregations, that's an itchy proposition. How do you encourage tithing from attenders who can barely feed their families, and then go home to a house much nicer than any they've ever even been in?

I don't know. But it's a real question. So, the final issue of supporting the church is not one of what the pastors say--there are plenty of scholars who argue polar opposite accounts of biblical giving (which is why I have left biblical mandates notably absent from this discussion)--but one of practical significance.

I am not unaware of the tension involved in not supporting a church that supports me. Not only spiritually, but physically. Heat, and chairs, and wireless internet are all material gifts given to me by James River. It is easy, as a mere one of thousands, to forget that I am the one that all of this is for. As a logical end, each of us is the "one." Biblical mandates aside, there is a practical purpose for tithing.

Where are we now? Still lost, but better for the journey. Closer to home.