Having finished my taxes without an extension this year, I now am free to indulge a desire to reflect on taxes from an Biblical perspective.

As much as we complain about income taxes, especially their complexity and the frequent opaqueness of the instructions, they are Biblical in both the sense that such taxes are found in the Bible and that God prescribed such taxes for Israel. We know these taxes as tithes, which were based on one’s income or ‘increase’ in the course of a year, and the proceeds went both to support the Priests and Levites who were not given an inheritance of land and to succor the poor.

Indeed, there was more than one tithe in Israel. (In Homily 4 on Ephesians, St. John Chrysostom speaks of the Hebrews giving “tithes upon tithes” and then wonders why Christians under the new covenant scruple to given even a bare, first tithe and marvel at those who do.) The first tithe (Numbers 18:21), ten percent of one’s increase, went to support the Levites, an entire tribe that had been taken into the service of the Tabernacle and the Priests. The second tithe each year was used in two ways: in years three and six of the seven-year cycle, it was given to the “Levite, because he has no portion or inheritance with you, and the resident alien and the fatherless and the widow who are within your cities”; in the other years, it was taken to Jerusalem by the tither to be eaten there before the Lord with in a joyous celebration “that you may learn to fear the Lord your God all your days” (Deuteronomy 14:22-29). Thus the second tithe in four years out of seven funded a mandatory vacation to come and rejoice before the Lord, feasting on whatever one’s soul desired. The Priests of Aaron’s house received a portion of the sacrifices that were offered each day as well as a tithe from the Levites. And everyone was called to give alms, to loan to the poor without interest, to leave the corners of one’s field unharvested and not to pick over the vines and fruit trees twice so that the poor could come and glean from what was left.

What is striking by its absence in the polity of Israel is a common tax that is far less controversial to modern man than the income tax: the property tax. Property was the primary form of capital that allowed people to produce wealth, primarily food and clothing. It was a gift from God to His people, an inalienable inheritance. Each family had an inheritance of this inalienable land which could not be permanently sold. If a family fell on hard times or so chose for other reasons, they could sell their property for up to forty-nine years, but in the fiftieth year, the Year of Jubilee, all such land reverted back to the original owner. Thus no one was permanently dispossessed; everyone had access to productive capital. Everyone was taxed on his production, but not on his capital.

In our land, we are taxed on just about everything, and the property tax is one of the cruellest of taxes. It drives retired people out of the homes they own free and clear and in which they have long dwelt because their fixed income cannot keep pace with rising taxes. It denies people the existence afforded by subsistence farming, for to hold land, one must participate in the cash economy. It adds, I might argue, to the general rootlessness of our culture, where few people continue to live where their parents and grandparents lived.

The unpleasant truth for lovers of freedom is that there is little private property left in our ‘land of the free’. The term home owner in contradistinction to renters is a false. To pay a tax on one’s home or land is not to own it in the most meaningful sense. In reality, the state owns it, for if you fail to pay the state’s property tax, the state will take ‘your’ home or land (or the bank will get it under the state’s authority). Property owners are simply renters by another name. Although they have far greater control over the property than the classic renter, it does not change the essential fact of their relation to the land–that they are renters.

And what do these ever rising property taxes fund? Our shining bastions of knowledge and enlightenment, the public schools, who voraciously consume ever greater amounts of money to achieve ever higher standards of illiteracy of every sort. But that is another subject.

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We Americans pride ourselves on our freedom, considering ourselves to live as a free people in a free land. Our President has even advanced the claim that it is our freedom that causes many Muslims to hate us and to commit acts of terror against us. Whether that be the case or not, it is an axiom for us that we and our land are free. Patrick Henry’s words, which once rang in the hearts of all Americans, place the highest value on liberty: “Give me liberty, or give me death.” We might well ask ourselves whether we yet feel so strongly about it.

But what is this vaunted freedom? Do we possess authentic freedom or a cheap imitation? From what are we free? Are we absolutely or relatively free? If only relatively free, what are the proper limitations on our freedom keeping it from being absolute, and at what point does relative freedom become ‘unfreedom’? And once we have understood what this freedom is in which we exult, to what end is it to be directed? One could write a long treatise to address these questions and others concerning this concept we hold dear.

 This evening in our parish’s Dostoyevsky reading group, we encountered the following passage from Book Six, Chapter Three of Brothers Karamazov (published in 1881) which should prompt us to think about the nature of freedom:

The world has proclaimed the reign of freedom, especially of late, but what do we see in this freedom of theirs? Nothing but slavery and self-destruction! For the world says:

“You have desires and so satisfy them, for you have the same rights as the most rich and powerful. Don’t be afraid of satisfying them and even multiply your desires.” That is the modern doctrine of the world. In that they see freedom. And what follows from this right of multiplication of desires? In the rich, isolation and spiritual suicide; in the poor, envy and murder; for they have been given rights, but have not been shown the means of satisfying their wants. They maintain that the world is getting more and more united, more and more bound together in brotherly community, as it overcomes distance and sets thoughts flying through the air.

Since Dostoyevsky’s time and even before, a freedom has been proclaimed in the world that may well be false, that may actually be slavery and self-destruction. The essence of this freedom is to be able to satisfy your desires. “This is a free country, I can do what I want.” If we have grown up in these United States, we have no doubt heard someone say this, and perhaps we have said it ourselves. If this is how we conceive of our freedom, to be able to do what we want, then this is a freedom that Dostoyevsky claims is actually slavery and self-destruction. Is this a just assessment? We shall presently see.

‘Multiplication of desires’ may well be said to be the goal of advertising. Is it freedom to be full of desires? To have an ever-growing appetite for consumption? To have eyes bigger than our stomachs or budgets? One frequent result of growing desires that calls this conception of freedom into question is a heavy burden of  consumer debt . Is indebtedness freedom? Is it freedom to be full of desires that cannot be fulfilled due to lack of means (in the case of the poor)? Is it freedom to be able fulfill each and every desire as it comes along? What happens to a human being when he can and does indulge every desire?

Alas, put no faith in such a bond of union. Interpreting freedom as the multiplication and rapid satisfaction of desires, men distort their own nature, for many senseless and foolish desires and habits and ridiculous fancies are fostered in them. They live only for mutual envy, for luxury and ostentation. To have dinners, visits, carriages, rank and slaves to wait on one is looked upon as a necessity, for which life, honour and human feeling are sacrificed, and men even commit suicide if they are unable to satisfy it. We see the same thing among those who are not rich, while the poor drown their unsatisfied need and their envy in drunkenness. But soon they will drink blood instead of wine, they are being led on to it. I ask you is such a man free? I knew one “champion of freedom” who told me himself that, when he was deprived of tobacco in prison, he was so wretched at the privation that he almost went and betrayed his cause for the sake of getting tobacco again! And such a man says, “I am fighting for the cause of humanity.”

Dostoyevsky challenges the notion that freedom is defined by the ability to satisfy desires. People often become enslaved to the desires that they habitually satisfy. Of course, ’satisfaction’ of desires is fleeting in this world. We eat, satisfying our hunger, only to hunger again a few hours later. We experience the satisfaction of a pleasure, but it is short-lived and must be sought again. But then the law of diminishing returns kicks in: more of the pleasure is needed to achieve the same level of satisfaction; as time passes, it satisfies less and less, but we are addicted. Can one who is addicted to anything be considered to be truly free? Does our way of life tend to result in addiction or moderate, self-controlled use? 

How can such a one fight, what is he fit for? He is capable perhaps of some action quickly over, but he cannot hold out long. And it’s no wonder that instead of gaining freedom they have sunk into slavery, and instead of serving the cause of brotherly love and the union of humanity have fallen, on the contrary, into dissension and isolation, as my mysterious visitor and teacher said to me in my youth. And therefore the idea of the service of humanity, of brotherly love and the solidarity of mankind, is more and more dying out in the world, and indeed this idea is sometimes treated with derision. For how can a man shake off his habits, what can become of him if he is in such bondage to the habit of satisfying the innumerable desires he has created for himself? He is isolated, and what concern has he with the rest of humanity? They have succeeded in accumulating a greater mass of objects, but the joy in the world has grown less.

Living to satisfy desires leads to bondage to habits, and this bondage to the habits which bring us pleasure renders us self-centered and isolated from others. But man is a social animal, not an island unto himself. It is only in relation to others that he can truly find and know himself, but his so-called freedom enslaves him to pleasures and cuts him off from his fellow man.

Dostoyevsky goes on to contrast this way of life with monasticism, how through prayer, fasting, and obedience man is freed from the tyranny of desires that he can truly love God and others. But this freedom is not limited to monks: it is available to every Christian who submits himself to Christ and His Church and gives himself to prayer, fasting, and almsgiving.

Of course, in this reflection we have neither established what true freedom is nor demonstrated a Christian conception thereof such as Dostoyevsky’s; no, we have only challenged a prevailing notion of freedom and found it wanting. What is true freedom in the spiritual, social, and political realms? Freedom from what? Freedom to do, to be what? I hope to consider these and other questions in reflections to come. 

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