Who Was It Really For, and How Do We Remember It Today?
When we hear people talk about biblical tithing, the explanation is usually
reduced to something very simple: “Give ten percent.” But the more I have
actually sat with the Torah and followed the passages dealing with tithes,
harvests, the Levite, the poor, the widow, the fatherless, and the gēr
(stranger), the more I have realized that the biblical picture is much more
detailed than that. Torah does not present giving as one indistinguishable
category where everything goes into the same pot. There are different
provisions, different recipients, different times, and different purposes woven
together into a much larger system of responsibility toward God and toward one
another.
One of the questions that especially caught my attention was the tithe
associated with the third and sixth years of the seven-year agricultural cycle.
Who exactly receives it? Is it accurate to simply call it the “poor tithe”?
When was it actually distributed? What happened to the widow, the fatherless,
and the gēr (stranger) during Years 1, 2, 4, and 5? And perhaps most
importantly, does this tithe replace the tithe associated with rejoicing before
God at the appointed feasts, as is sometimes taught? Those questions sent me
back through the passages themselves, because before accepting a traditional
explanation, I wanted to see what Torah actually says—and just as importantly,
what it does not say.
What Happens in the Third Year?
Deuteronomy 14:28–29 tells us, “At the end of every third year you shall
bring out all the tithe of your produce in that year, and shall lay it up within
your gates.” Torah then identifies who is to receive from this
provision: the Levite, the gēr
(stranger), the fatherless, and the widow. Deuteronomy 26:12 confirms
the same pattern when it speaks of finishing the laying aside of “all the tithe
of your increase in the third year, the year of tithing,” and giving it to the Levite,
the stranger, the fatherless, and the widow.
Because several of these recipients could be economically vulnerable, this
has often been called the “poor tithe.” Yet the more I studied the wording, the
more I began to think that description can actually obscure an important
distinction. Torah does not simply say, “Give this tithe to the poor.”
It deliberately names four groups: the Levite, the gēr,
the fatherless, and the widow. That distinction matters because Torah
also speaks separately about the poor.
What about someone who is simply poor? Torah absolutely commands us to care
for the poor. Deuteronomy 15:7–8 says that if one of your brothers becomes
poor, you are not to harden your heart or close your hand against him. You are
to open your hand wide and provide according to his need. Then there are the
gleaning commandments. Leviticus 19:9–10 tells Israel not to completely reap
the corners of the field or gather every last grape from the vineyard; those
portions were to remain for the poor and the gēr. Leviticus 23:22
repeats the command, while Deuteronomy 24:19–22 expands it beautifully: if you
forgot a sheaf in the field, you did not go back to retrieve it. When you beat
your olive trees, you did not go over the branches a second time. When you gathered
your grapes, you did not strip the vineyard again. Those remaining portions
were deliberately left for the gēr, the fatherless, and the widow.
That distinction helped me see something I had missed before. Torah creates
multiple avenues of provision rather than collapsing everything into one
category called “charity.” The poor are cared for through open-handed
generosity, gleaning, lending, debt release, and other commands, while the
third-year tithe specifically identifies the Levite, the gēr, the
fatherless, and the widow. Those categories can certainly overlap with poverty,
but poverty itself is not the only characteristic Torah is identifying.
When I began considering why these four groups were named, another pattern
emerged. The Levite did not receive the normal tribal land inheritance given to
the other tribes. The gēr—גֵּר, the sojourner, stranger, or resident
alien—lived among God's people without possessing the ancestral land
inheritance belonging to an Israelite household. The widow had lost her husband
and therefore could suddenly find herself without the household's normal
provider and protector. Then there is the yātôm, commonly translated
“orphan,” but carrying the sense of the fatherless. When we hear “orphan,” we
often picture a child who has lost both parents, but a yātôm could be
a child whose father had died while his mother remained alive.
Suddenly the repeated pairing of “widow and fatherless” becomes much more
vivid. They could literally belong to the same household: a woman whose husband
had died and children whose father was gone. Without that husband and father,
the household could become economically, socially, and legally vulnerable very
quickly. Torah repeatedly warns Israel not to exploit precisely this kind of
vulnerability.
The gēr (stranger) deserves similar attention because the word can
easily be misunderstood. The Hebrew גֵּר (gēr) is commonly translated
“sojourner,” “stranger,” or “resident alien.” A gēr (stranger) was not
merely someone passing through town for a few days, nor does the word simply
mean “a poor person.” Throughout Torah, the word describes someone dwelling
among God's people, and God repeatedly commands Israel concerning how such a
person is to be treated.
Leviticus 19:33–34 says that the gēr (stranger) dwelling among them
must not be mistreated but loved “as yourself,” because Israel knew what it
meant to live as strangers in another land. Deuteronomy 10:18 goes even further
by grounding this command in the character of God Himself: He executes justice
for the fatherless and widow and loves the gēr, providing food and
clothing. Israel is then told, “Therefore love the gēr.” Their
treatment of vulnerable people was supposed to reflect the character of the God
they served.
This also means that we should be careful when attempting to create exact
modern equivalents. A gēr (stranger) is
not simply anyone today who receives financial assistance, nor is every poor
person automatically a modern gēr.
The biblical category arose within Israel's covenantal, tribal, and land-based
society. What made the gēr (stranger) particularly vulnerable was not
merely the amount of wealth he possessed but his position as someone dwelling
among Israel without the same ancestral land inheritance and family structure
enjoyed by native Israelite households.
During a Shabbat service, a question came up that made me think about this
even more deeply: What happens to these people during Years 1, 2, 4,
and 5? If the Levite, gēr, fatherless, and widow receive this
particular tithe in the third and sixth years, are they simply without
provision during all the other years?
Once I began looking at Torah as a whole rather than isolating the
third-year tithe, the answer became much clearer. The Levite receives tithes
because he has no normal land inheritance, as Numbers 18:21–24 explains. The gēr,
fatherless, and widow have access to gleanings and forgotten portions of the
harvest. They are repeatedly protected against oppression and injustice. The
poor are to encounter open hands rather than closed ones. And perhaps one of
the most beautiful provisions of all is that these vulnerable people are
specifically included in Israel's celebrations.
Deuteronomy 16:11 includes the Levite, gēr, fatherless, and widow
in the rejoicing at Shavuot, and Deuteronomy 16:14 includes them again in the
celebration of Sukkot. That showed me something beautiful about God's
provision. He was not merely saying, “Make sure these people do not starve.” He
was bringing them into the joy of the community. They were not supposed to
exist permanently on the outside as anonymous recipients of charity. They were
invited to eat, rejoice, worship, and celebrate alongside everyone else.
Provision in Torah is relational. It brings people to the table.
There is another phrase in Deuteronomy 14 that caught my attention: “within
your gates.” The Hebrew expression is בִּשְׁעָרֶיךָ (bish'arekha),
“within your gates.” Throughout Scripture, the city gates were more than
entrances and exits. They were places where elders gathered, judgments were
made, legal matters were settled, and community affairs took place. We see that vividly in Ruth when Boaz goes to the gate to settle the matter
concerning Ruth and Naomi.
So when Torah says that this tithe was to be laid up “within your gates,” I
do not picture the produce simply disappearing into some distant, anonymous
general fund. The provision remained within the community where the people
named by Torah could actually receive it. And the purpose is explicitly stated.
Deuteronomy 14:29 says they were to “come and eat and be satisfied.”
Deuteronomy 26:12 then describes the tithe as having actually been given to
them. The storage served the people. The food had a destination. Someone was
supposed to eat. Someone who might otherwise lack provision was supposed to
walk away satisfied.
That led me naturally to another question: Was this distrbution only done at
Sukkot? Sukkot certainly occurs in connection with the agricultural
harvest, and Deuteronomy 16 specifically commands Israel to include the Levite,
gēr, fatherless, and widow in that celebration. But this is where I
think we need to be very careful not to make Torah say more than Torah actually
says.
Deuteronomy 14 does not say, “Give the third-year tithe at Sukkot.” It says,
“At the end of every third year.” The calendar
naturally creates connections between harvest, the appointed times, and the
availability of produce, but a connection is not the same thing as an explicit
command. If Scripture does not say that the third-year tithe must be given
specifically at Sukkot, I do not want to present that conclusion.
Does the Third-Year Tithe Replace the Festival Tithe?
This brings me to perhaps the most debated part of this study. Deuteronomy
14:22–27 describes setting aside a tithe, bringing it before God at the place
He chooses, eating there, rejoicing, and remembering the Levite. Immediately
afterward, verses 28–29 discuss the third year and laying the tithe within the
gates for the Levite, gēr, fatherless, and widow.
One traditional rabbinic interpretation understands the local tithe of Years
3 and 6 as replacing the festival or second tithe during those years. I
understand how that conclusion is reached from the sequence of the passage, but
there is something I cannot get around...Torah never explicitly says, “In
the third and sixth years, do not set aside the festival tithe.”
Neither does Torah say that Israel stops celebrating the appointed times
during those years. Shavuot still comes. Sukkot still comes. God's appointed
times continue, and His people are still commanded to rejoice before Him. In
fact, Deuteronomy 16 specifically includes the Levite, gēr,
fatherless, and widow in that rejoicing.
Because of this, I understand the third and sixth-year tithe as an
additional provision rather than assuming it replaces the festival provision.
Others understand Deuteronomy 14:28–29 as changing the destination of that
tithe during Years 3 and 6. I think it is important to acknowledge the
difference. Torah gives us the commands; the statement that one tithe
“replaces” another is an man made interpretation.
The third and sixth years belong within the larger seven-year agricultural
rhythm established in Torah. Years 1 and 2 proceed normally; Year 3 becomes the
special tithe year described in Deuteronomy; Years 4 and 5 follow;
Year 6 brings that special tithe year again; and Year 7 is the Sabbatical year
established in Leviticus 25. Then the cycle begins again.
Determining exactly where we are in that biblical count today is a separate
and difficult question. The modern State of Israel follows a traditional Shemitah
calculation under which 2021–2022 was treated as a seventh year. Following that
reckoning would place 2024–2025 as Year 3 and 2027–2028 as Year 6. I found that timing particularly interesting because of the
chronology surrounding Yeshua's first coming and how Yeshua was baptized in 27 C.E.
When I put all of these passages together, the picture that emerges is much richer than just “Give ten percent.” God created an economic order in which His people were not permitted to squeeze every possible bit of profit out of everything He placed into their hands.
- Do not harvest everything.
- Do not return for what you forgot.
- Do not beat the olive branches twice.
- Do not strip every grape from the vineyard.
- Open your hand when your brother becomes poor.
- Do not exploit the widow.
- Do not take advantage of the fatherless.
- Do not oppress the gēr (stranger).
Remember the Levite. Invite them into your rejoicing. And in the third and sixth years, deliberately set aside substantial provision within the community so that the Levite, gēr, fatherless, and widow can come, eat, and be satisfied.
That is much bigger than charity. It is a way of structuring a covenant
community so that people without the same inheritance, protection, or resources
as others are deliberately remembered.
How Can We Remember the Third and Sixth-Year Tithe Today?
Eventually my study brought me to the question that matters for those of us
trying to walk out Torah today: How do we honor this command in our
present circumstances? We are not living under precisely the same national structure Israel lived under when these
commandments were given. Most of us do not possess fields producing grain,
vineyards producing wine, ancestral tribal allotments, or Levites functioning
within the system described in Numbers. That means I think we need to approach
application with both seriousness and humility. I do not want to dismiss a
command merely because my circumstances have changed, but neither do I
want to create a modern practice and then claim that what I have created is
identical to the biblical institution when it is not.
For me, one meaningful approach is to practice this as a memorial,
remembering what God commanded and attempting to preserve its distinctions and
purposes as faithfully as our circumstances allow. If I am memorializing the
third- and sixth-year tithe, I would not simply rename it the “poor tithe,”
because Torah itself does not say, “Give the third-year tithe to anyone who is
poor.” It names the Levite, the gēr, the fatherless, and the widow. At
the same time, Torah's other commands concerning poverty remain important
principles of open-handedness. Someone in genuine need should not have to wait
for Year 3 or Year 6 before I care about them.
Compassion Does Not Eliminate Personal Responsibility
There is another distinction I believe is especially important when we try
to bring these principles into modern life. Biblical provision for vulnerable
people should not be interpreted to mean that someone who is genuinely capable
of working may simply choose not to work and then claim that Scripture
obligates everyone else to provide for him/her. Scripture does not make compassion
and personal responsibility enemies. It holds them together.
The gleaning laws themselves give us a beautiful picture of that balance.
God commanded the landowner not to harvest every corner of his field or gather
every last portion of his produce. The owner therefore had a responsibility to
be generous. But the person receiving that provision ordinarily went into the
field and gathered what had been left. Ruth gives us perhaps the clearest
picture. She was a widow and a Moabite living among Israel, and Boaz showed her
extraordinary generosity, protection, and kindness. Yet Ruth also went into the
field and worked. Boaz's generosity did not eliminate Ruth's responsibility,
and Ruth's willingness to labor did not eliminate Boaz's responsibility to be
generous. Both truths existed together.
The distinction becomes even clearer in 2 Thessalonians 3:10: “If
anyone is not willing to work, neither should he eat.” I think those
words need to be read carefully because Paul does not say someone who cannot
work should not eat. He speaks about someone who is not willing
to work. There is an enormous difference between inability and unwillingness.
Age, disability, illness, widowhood, the loss of a household provider, caring
for dependents, lack of genuine opportunity, or circumstances beyond someone's
control should never be confused with deliberate refusal to carry one's
responsibilities when one is truly capable of doing so.
Paul gives us another important example in 1 Timothy 5 when discussing the
care of widows. What stood out to me is that he does not simply say that every
widow should automatically become the permanent financial responsibility of the
assembly. He first speaks about the responsibility of children and
grandchildren to care for their own family, and in 1 Timothy 5:16 he says that
believing family members should assist the widows within their own household so
that the assembly is not unnecessarily burdened and can care for those who are
truly in need. That tells me Scripture itself makes distinctions. It recognizes
genuine vulnerability and commands us to respond to it, while at the same time
recognizing personal responsibility, family responsibility, and the need to
steward community resources wisely. Providing for those who genuinely need help
is biblical compassion; continually removing responsibility from someone who is
capable of carrying it is something different.
At the same time, I do not believe this gives us permission to look at
someone receiving assistance and automatically conclude that he or she is lazy.
We may not know that person's circumstances. There may be struggles and
responsibilities we cannot see from the outside. Biblical discernment should
protect us from both errors...enabling deliberate irresponsibility on
one side and hardening our hearts toward genuine need on the other.
This is also another reason why I do not think we should casually define the
gēr (stranger) as simply “someone who needs assistance.” The gēr
(stranger) occupied a particular place within Israel's covenant community
and land structure. Poverty could accompany that vulnerability, but poverty and
gēr (stranger) are not synonymous. Likewise, receiving assistance in
our modern society does not automatically make someone the equivalent of a
biblical gēr.
So when I speak about looking “within our gates,” I am not suggesting that
biblical generosity requires us to finance deliberate idleness. Neither am I
suggesting that we become suspicious of everyone who asks for help. I am saying
that biblical community should involve enough relationship, wisdom, and
discernment that we begin to recognize the difference between genuine
vulnerability and deliberate irresponsibility whenever that difference can
reasonably be known.
Biblical generosity is neither a closed fist nor undiscerning
provision. It is an open hand governed by wisdom, compassion, responsibility,
and truth.
Scripture describes setting aside a tenth, so during the third and sixth
years of the seven-year cycle a household chooses to follow, one could consider
setting aside one-tenth of one's increase specifically as a memorial of
Deuteronomy 14:28–29 and Deuteronomy 26:12–15. The
point is to remember what God commanded and intentionally set apart something
meaningful from what He has provided.
Looking “within your gates” is where this becomes deeply practical for me.
Before immediately sending everything to a large organization somewhere far
away, perhaps the first question should be: Who is within my gates? Who
is in my congregation? Who is in my neighborhood? Who is in my extended
community?
- Is there a widow nearby who needs groceries?
- Is there a fatherless household struggling beneath expenses that most people never see?
- Is there someone corresponding as closely as possible to the biblical gēr (stranger) who is living among the community and genuinely lacks provision?
The original command placed responsibility close enough that the people
could see those they were responsible to remember. They could not simply assume
that someone, somewhere, would take care of them. These people were within
their gates aka their community. When provision remains relational rather than
anonymous, we have a greater opportunity not only to know that someone needs
help but to understand what kind of help will actually benefit that person.
The result God desired is wonderfully concrete... “that they may eat
and be satisfied.” That gives me a much better measurement for giving
than simply asking whether I transferred money somewhere. Did my giving
actually provide something? Did it relieve a genuine burden? Did somebody eat?
Because the original tithe consisted of agricultural produce, food is an
especially natural way to memorialize it. In our modern economy, however,
practical provision might take the form of groceries, grocery cards, help with
a necessary household expense, or another form of assistance that genuinely
provides what is needed. The goal is not merely being able to say, “I gave.”
Torah's picture is that someone was actually provided for.
At the same time, helping the poor cannot become something we postpone until
a special year. Deuteronomy 15:7–8 does not say to open your hand only during
Year 3 or Year 6. When someone is genuinely poor and God has placed the ability
to help within our hands, Torah teaches generosity. So I see room for two
distinct practices... ongoing giving whenever we encounter genuine poverty and
need, and a deliberate third- and sixth-year memorial that remembers the
particular provision God established for the Levite, gēr, fatherless,
and widow.
Keeping those practices distinct also helps protect us from two opposite
mistakes. We should not say, “It isn't the third year, so I have no
responsibility toward this person in need.” But neither should we take every
command concerning a particular vulnerable group and turn it into an unlimited
obligation to provide for every person regardless of circumstances. Torah is
much more thoughtful than either extreme.
Deuteronomy 26:12–15 also gives us something particularly meaningful to
remember once the third-year distribution has been completed. In ancient
Israel, after completing the tithe and distributing it to those God designated,
the Israelite made a declaration before Him. For a memorial today, I think
there is something beautiful about gathering as a household and reading
Deuteronomy 26:12–15 aloud. I would personally distinguish between reading
the biblical declaration as a memorial and claiming that I have
literally fulfilled every covenantal and legal requirement described in that
ancient setting. I can read God's words, remember His commandments, examine my
own heart and actions, and thank Him for providing enough that something can
pass from my hands into the hands of another. That makes the memorial about
much more than money. It becomes a moment of remembering God's provision, His
commandments, and our responsibility toward one another.
Practically, the memorial does not have to become complicated. During a
third or sixth year, determine what you consider your increase for purposes of
the memorial and set aside the tenth. Keep it distinct rather than
allowing it to disappear into normal household spending. Then
prayerfully look within your gates for people who correspond as closely
as possible to the recipients Torah actually names, and use that
provision in a way that genuinely blesses them and addresses genuine need.
Once the giving is complete, gather your household and read Deuteronomy
14:28–29 and Deuteronomy 26:12–15, remembering why God established this
provision in the first place. Meanwhile, throughout every year, continue
practicing generosity toward the poor and helping those in genuine need. And
continue rejoicing at God's appointed times every year, because nothing in
these passages explicitly says that the third- or sixth-year tithe cancels the
commanded feasts or the rejoicing associated with them.
Perhaps the greatest thing I learned while studying all of this is that
Torah does not allow me to reduce giving to the question, “What
percentage do I owe?” God's instructions force me to look beyond
percentages and actually notice people. Notice the widow. Notice the
fatherless. Notice the gēr. Remember the Levite. Notice the poor. Do
not harvest everything for yourself. Do not squeeze every possible bit of
profit out of what God has placed into your hands. Do not close your hand when
someone genuinely needs help. But neither should compassion be separated from
wisdom and responsibility.
That is a very different picture from simply putting money into a collection
box and deciding my responsibility has been fulfilled. The third- and
sixth-year tithe reminds me that everything ultimately comes from God. What He
places into my hands is not necessarily intended to remain there. Some of His
provision may have been entrusted to me precisely because He intends for it to
pass through my physical hands into someone else's.
And maybe that is why the phrase “within your gates” has
stayed with me so strongly. Torah does not allow generosity to remain
completely abstract. These were people with faces. People living nearby. People
whose circumstances could be known. People who could come, eat, and actually be
satisfied. Biblical generosity was not merely about transferring resources; it
was about covenant responsibility within a community.
So after studying these passages, the question I am left carrying is no
longer simply, “Do I have to give this tithe today?” The
question has become much more personal.
“How can I faithfully remember what God commanded, honor the
distinctions He made, exercise both compassion and discernment, and make sure I
am not overlooking the people He specifically told His people to see?”
To me, that is a memorial worth keeping.
