Mammon, Revisited

I once dated a man who said he didn’t tithe.

Frankly, it was a massive turnoff.

Even during the most difficult of times, I have contributed my widow’s pence.

This young man told me he “didn’t see the point.”

I didn’t really either until last year, honestly.

But I wonder, ironically, if he objected to the heavy and burdensome taxes, unasked for and unvoted for, levied by our most excellent government here in the good state of Oregon, and used for a crumbling education system and that wonder of wonders, abortion.

The point of tithing of course, the reason the Church requires ten percent, is that it keeps us from becoming cramped, selfish little animals.

I do recall a good Catholic professor — whose last name rhymes with Ola — telling us that one of the saints said that everything you do not need — note: NEED — should go to those poorer than you.

The Single Sisters tend to get annoyed that I’m always clearing out my bedroom and packing things off to the Goodwill, but I just do not like clutter.

This has me squinting at my shoe closet again and remembering last year.

I mean, really, when has having fifty pairs of shoes ever made a woman truly happy in life?

And how many shoes does one person strictly need?

This is an interesting concept I bat around my “empty” brain from time to time.

How do we give? How should we give? Can you pass the Saint Martin de Tours test?

Obvs I failed with That Crazy Woman, but that is a whole nother story.

Here in America, we tend to look at the poor and be like: Ehhhhhhh and shrug our shoulders, or call them “the homeless problem” as if they aren’t people with actual souls.