Most often as a favor to an author or publisher, I have likely read as many books about fund-raising as any other topic. Some are classics like The Seven Faces of Philanthropy by Russ Prince or Henri Nouwen’s A Spirituality of Fundraising, but most, frankly, are either focused on how to minister to major donors assuming they are sad, dysfunctional and needy people or how to quickly discern their passions to align your organization with their interests.
Even though I consider Peter Harris a friend, I put aside the book he wrote with Rod Wilson, Keeping Faith in Fundraising, I received last month. But then Rod commented on one of my recent blogs, asking if I had read their book. I found it in the stack and started reading quickly so I could give him a hurried response. After all, he had the read the blog so I needed to read their book!
It was two-thirds of the way through that Peter said this:
“A strange social dynamic can develop for both donor and asker.  It tends to produce a certain defensiveness on the part of wealthy Christians for having what they do, and it frequently gives a sense of inadequacy and failure to people seeking support because they are clearly, in some way, less “successful” or why would they need help? I found, time and again, that these issues, both for me and for potential donors were expressed in subtle but significant ways. It wasn’t easy for people to turn me down, and so evasion became the tactic. Many wealthy people live complicated lives across many places, and so the gaps become their refuge. As for me, I found I could be kept waiting, or would have meetings canceled at short notice, even after I had journeyed long distances to be there. The most difficult thing of all was that communication could simply cease with no explanation, or that, even after we had been encouraged to apply for a particular kind of work, when all was prepared and we went to the next stage, then the rules and interests would suddenly have changed.”
What does that mean to find refuge in the gaps? I’ve thought about that this week, and it has made me uncomfortable because I recognize that trait in myself. That passage has left me with one of those disquieting moments created by someone touching a nerve without intending to intimidate or criticize.
Having closed down our local foundation here I don’t field appeals for funding, but as president of The Gathering there is a constant stream of requests for meetings, consideration for a place on the schedule, or connections to potential donors. People, understandably so, want responses to those, and it becomes easy to say, “I’m on the road and I’ll get back to you” or find other ways to put off people and things I want to avoid. I can plead their email was sent to spam or got lost in the hundreds of others I receive.
There is always a way, as Peter says, to make evasion become the tactic and explain it away. And, yes, we can even stop communicating or change the rules with no notice or excuses. After all, very few people will confront our bad manners.
A few years ago a friend at a private foundation faced the same issue. He discovered a wall had grown between the staff and ministries looking for support. The foundation had become a removed benefactor, and the ministries were too often regarded as supplicants needing help.
His solution is this: At the beginning of every meeting with a ministry leader about funding, my friend shines their shoes. He doesn’t put that in the foundation newsletter. It’s not on Twitter or Facebook. I’m not sure he thinks about it at all as an act of humility. As Martin Luther said, “True humility does not know that it is humble. If it did, it would be proud from the contemplation of so fine a virtue.” Almost without speaking of it my friend has subtly changed the relationships and culture in the most remarkable ways.
I’m not going to pontificate here at the end. Neither am I going to recommend that all of us start shining shoes. I only want to say that I am grateful for Peter and Rod writing that one paragraph as it has nudged me to consider my ways. No, I cannot take every meeting or phone call or answer every request for a place in the program but I can choose not to take refuge in the gaps.