What if the very structure of your mind was a mirror of the universe itself?
Most of what exists is unseen. NASA’s own scientists at Goddard Space Flight Center estimate that roughly 90% of the cosmos is composed of “dark matter,” an invisible field holding galaxies together. Only 10% is the visible, measurable universe. In an uncanny reflection, neuroscientists tell us that only about 10% of our brain’s activity is consciously accessible, largely tied to the analytical, left hemisphere; the other 90% belongs to the vast, intuitive, emotional and spiritual right side. This symmetry invites a serious question: is it coincidence, or are we built as microcosms of the macrocosm—made “in the image and likeness” of the universe, and ultimately, of God?
Here the ancient word tithe takes on new meaning. From the Old English teogoþa (“tenth”), rooted in the Proto-Germanic tehun (“ten”), and ultimately the Proto-Indo-European dekm̥ (“ten”), the tithe has always carried significance far beyond mathematics. Ten is the number of human completion, the full count of our fingers and toes, the measure of wholeness in the material world. In scripture, to “tithe” was not merely to give one-tenth of grain or coin, but to acknowledge proportion: the small visible portion is ours to steward, while the vast invisible belongs to the divine. Religion later narrowed this into a demand for money, but the deeper esoteric sense is far richer. To tithe is to consciously yield the ten percent we control—our left-brain, logical, surface life—back into harmony with the ninety we cannot command. The word itself becomes a key: what is offered (the ten) unlocks what is hidden (the ninety).
Numerology sharpens the picture. Ten is not just a number of fullness; it is also a return. The digit “1” stands at the beginning, the primal spark of divine unity. Add zero, and you have “10”: the circle enclosing the one, the infinite containing the seed of the finite. Thus ten represents both completion and a cycle’s return to the beginning. To tithe, then, is to give back your tenth—to offer the fragment you govern so you can re-enter the unity from which all things spring. It is the mystical act of dissolving separation, of folding the visible back into the invisible, the finite back into the infinite.
This is why the biblical figure Melchizedek, the “priest of the Most High,” emerges as more than a historical footnote. He symbolizes the eternal order that bridges heaven and earth, seen and unseen. The tithe in his presence becomes something transformative: not the handing over of coins but the alignment of self with cosmic proportion. In that act, the 10 returns to 1, and we recognize ourselves once more as made in the likeness of the universe—90 hidden, 10 revealed, all held together by a divine intelligence that science itself can glimpse, but never contain.