Candy Taxes & Tithes

When my children were younger and spent Halloween racing from house to house toting a pillow case they would come home with as much as six pounds of candy. It would all be dumped in a pile on the living room floor; one pile for my son and one for my daughter. They would stare at the loot for a moment, taking it all in like Daffy Duck staring at a room full of gold coins. And then they would start sorting through the pile, looking for their favorites and deciding which three or four pieces (their allotted amount for Halloween night) they would devour before cleaning up and heading off to bed with sugar-fueled dreams.

That's when Amy or I would remind them of the Candy Tax, the price that was paid to the heads-of-household in thanksgiving for letting them live under our roof, eat our food and participate in the annual costume-and-candy-grab festival of Halloween. This wasn't mean. This was a life lesson. "Soon you will be paying real taxes to the government," we told them. And the Bible tells us to tithe our earnings and give 10% to God. We didn't want the poor darlings to think that they could keep 100% of what they had received. Someone is always going to lay claim to part of what you think is yours. We simply wanted to be good parents and teach them about life.

(Disclaimer: Honestly this practice had way more to do with the fact that free candy tastes better than purchased candy. And when I started sporting a beard and passed the 200 lbs. mark, dressing up and asking neighbors for candy (even though they were already handing it out for free) seemed a bit creepy. The whole "teach my kids a lesson" gambit didn't fool anyone. They knew what was up.)

My kids learned to keep us away from their piles so we couldn't get a look at what they had acquired. They would come to us with offerings of candy in hopes of appeasing our stringent demands. But a third-grade sized hand carrying two waxy chocolate balls wrapped in foil that looks like an eye ball, a cellophane packet of off-brand Sweet-Tarts with candy coating and three snot-green Jolly Ranchers doesn't cut it. I saw the people down the street drop two Reese's Peanut Butter Cups in your bag! I can see that Heath Bar on top of your pile from here! And no, I don't want a Dum Dum sucker of any flavor. They remind me of getting shots at the doctor's office.

Six weeks later we would find remnants of the Halloween stash buried in their closets. We would ask if they wanted anymore of the candy. They would tell us no. I would take it and hand it out as game prizes in Confirmation Class.

I'm afraid this Halloween ritual of ours reveals an awful lot about human behavior. It shines a light on our greed and our fear of having things taken away from us as well as how fast we become bored by things that once held an immense appeal to us.

I'm also afraid that my behavior reflects the reality of some of the greater institutions in our culture; the government, corporations and the church. Each of these entities feels entitled to a portion of what we have received. Each one justifies its entitlement by providing something in exchange for our taxes, patronage or tithes. If that was the whole truth of the matter I would have no problem with it. But reckless government spending, outrageous corporate profits (if you are making billions in profits, perhaps you could help the world economy by lowering your prices) and church foundations and endowments reveal a greater concern for the institutions than the people they serve.

The government needs taxes to serve the needs of the republic. Corporations need profits to be able to supply people with goods and services. Churches need tithes to do the work of the church. But when these institutions lose sight of who they are serving and the fact that they exist to serve they simply scare away those who can help them the most.

I wish I had been more thankful and encouraged my children's generosity when it arose naturally. Despite my blunders they are pretty generous people. I plan on paying back all those candy taxes and tithes with interest. But, like my parents, I'm not going to give it to my kids. I'm going to give it my grandchildren.