I grew up religious. And it was a good experience for me. Church was fun. Youth group was fun. Friends were made. Socializing was accomplished. It was good for me in many ways.
And I followed the good experiences that made up my religious identity through college and graduate school into my 20s, when I served as pastor at a midsized church in Omaha, Nebraska.
I eventually studied myself out of an easy fit into pretty much any denomination – and ultimately out of an easy fit into any faith expression.
Thus my entry into fundraising.
But the leftovers of my life of spirituality remain. And every now and then I come across a piece of writing that reminds me – reminds me of the beauty of so much of religious expression; reminds me of the possibilities tied up with community and belonging; reminds me of the promise of authentic wonder and awe and hope.
And I am struck again by the observation that there is something very positive about maintaining an overall comportment of trust. Trust in something bigger. Trust in a meaningful center. Trust that there is some good, some beauty, some purpose that we are all driving toward, whether we admit that or not.
And even if one discovers that this wonder is itself a byproduct of evolution or just a random course of events, I am struck nevertheless by the fact that there is good reason to celebrate those who hold onto that trust. And I am struck by the fact that those who trust in a purpose – who hold on to a center – can and will be individuals who do truly amazing things.
And that it is good to be one of them.
But I am getting ahead of myself…
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I experienced one of these moments of reflection this weekend, when I decided to pick up Henri Nouwen’s A Spirituality of Fundraising (Upper Room Books, 2010) and take a walk down memory lane through Father Nouwen’s reflection on the vocation of fundraising. [And I do think of fundraising as a vocation – more below.]
In fact, I found myself doing theology – even as I find myself on the back side of Christian faith. I found myself thinking through Father Nouwen’s faith-based teachings on fundraising in a way that could make sense to anyone brave enough to see their profession as somehow tied to a bigger purpose.
So the goal of this post is to think through Father Nouwen’s concepts in a new way – to construct a new, post-Christian spirituality of fundraising that can serve to guide those of us who call ourselves fundraisers.
To be clear, this is not a theological reflection – at least not in the sense that it starts with a profession of faith.
This is not a Sunday school lesson or a devotional exercise.
You will see that each theme below is pulled from Nouwen’s book, and is therefore couched in theological language – words like vocation, calling, inspiration, community, faith, etc.
But each theme is likewise reframed in a way that can and should make sense to any fundraisers – in fact, to anyone who is involved in nonprofit leadership.
This is the type of thing I did in my doctoral studies. And in this instance I’m hoping that my reflections can serve as a helpful addition to the conversations happening in the fundraising industry.
As our global and political landscape continues to change, we should all draw more from the deep-seated convictions that pushed us into the always-challenging, always-exciting world of mission-based work.
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Introduction
Henri Nouwen was an academic theologian, a Catholic priest, a spiritual guide, and an organizational leader. After teaching for nearly 20 years at leading universities (Notre Dame, Yale, Harvard), he took a trip to a community in France called L’Arche Daybreak Community. This was a place where people with different intellectual abilities could find belonging. And Nouwen felt at home.
He spent the remainder of his professional career serving these communities, which ultimately grounded his spiritual reflections in real-world experiences. And this was true of his reflections on fundraising.
The book with the title The Spirituality of Fundraising is based on lectures he gave in September of 1992 to the “Marguerite Bourgeoys Family Service Foundation” – which as far as I can tell doesn’t exist anymore (happy to be corrected) but that does represent the best of the Catholic faith that Nouwen espoused. Marguerite Bourgeoys was a religious sister who lived in the early 1600s and founded an order of nuns in Montreal who performed a variety of acts of service. Nouwen’s teaching and life reflect a similar calling.
Nouwen himself did not write this book. It was put together by his friend and mentee John Mogabgab, who also edited and helped produce other books in this series: spiritualities of caregiving, living, and homecoming. The lectures that Mogabgab used to create the work were given by Nouwen to people who shared their faith, and the book uses that language to discuss fundraising.
But the content of Nouwen’s reflections is not exhausted by faith claims.
In fact, my goal here is to help unpack some of his themes in a way that can and should drive anyone who is involved in fundraising – as a professional, a leader, a board member, or a volunteer.
And – side note – that’s the positive thing about theology – at least good theology. It finds truth claims – it tells stories – that have their source in a faith tradition but that can, nevertheless, connect with the stories other people tell and name truths that anyone can recognize.
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1 – The best fundraising happens when fundraisers understand their task in reference to an appropriate “center.”
The first words of this little book are: “Henri Nouwen sought the center of things.”
They’re actually from the Preface, which was written by Sister Sue Mosteller, CSJ.
Sister Sue starts her reflections on Nouwen’s lectures by naming this central idea, which is taken straight out of good Catholic theology.
Seeking the center of things.
In Catholic theology, there is a host of religious claims that drive this search. Most fundamental is the notion that through the Trinity the divine is revealed through and present in the stuff we see and experience everyday – and in ourselves. This is the same belief that founds sacramental theology and the claim that the divine is not only present in the bread and wine of the Eucharist but that the bread and wine become the divine.
And all that.
If you ask me, this idea of “finding the center” is rather profound. It is indicative of something deeper, namely that for the person of faith, there is a fundamental belief in a connectedness – connectedness to all things through that shared participation in the divine and the possibility that we can most fully commune with the divine by finding the divine in those things we encounter.
In other words – to “find the center of things.”
Importantly, that search for the center of things must start with faith – which is of course a loaded term. So let’s think of it instead as trust.
Without that fundamental trust – a trust that the center is there – then the search for a center makes no sense. It won’t exist. But those who start with a sense of trust, those who hope for meaning, who believe in something that can and does connect us – they will find their search meaningful.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying that fundraisers need to be religious.
But I do think that any person who has joined a mission-based community (i.e., a nonprofit) has already acted on a belief in a greater good – in fact, in a center.
They trust that a center is there; that there is ultimately something that provides meaning to their activity as a member of that community; and that there is a possibility of “meaning” in the first place.
Trust is a fundamental comportment that drives the nonprofit professional to their work; the hope that meaning is possible; the belief that a better future is around the corner; the sense that we are somehow moving toward that future in a real and tangible way.
All that.
And that is very important.
Fundraisers find their work most fulfilling when they understand their task in reference to – and through and in – a meaningful center.
That center can be any number of things. It can be about cats. Or dogs. Or homelessness. Or advocacy. Or justice. Or opportunity. Or food. Or scholarships. Or education. Or suffering. Or hunger. Or peace. Or real estate. Or children. Or women. Or sexuality. Or anything that serves to create a better future.
In many ways, it is the fundraiser’s responsibility to find that center. And articulate it. And share it with others.
In fact, this is one of those things that, for my money, separates really good fundraisers from average fundraisers. Really good fundraisers have the ability to find a story, and to articulate their fundraising appeal in relation to that story. They simultaneously believe in and help construct that story and by doing so they drive their mission forward, capturing the imagination of others and creating a movement that pushes the story into always new iterations. This is ultimately something more meaningful than money.
It is a purpose, a good, a truth.
Something beautiful.
Impactful.
Centering.
“Fundraising is proclaiming what we believe in such a way that we offer other people an opportunity to participate with us in our vision and mission” (16).
You may or may not share Nouwen’s faith. But I gotta say: this is cool. “Finding the center of things” and understanding all of your experiences in relation to that center; articulating those experiences, evaluating them, promoting them in relation to that center; and making sure that nothing is pursued that runs contrary to that center.
[This is also called integrity.]
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2 – The best fundraising occurs when the task of fundraising is seen as an invitation to join a mission-driven community.
The most meaningful of those centers are derived from a deeper sense of connectedness with others and the world and the conviction that our connectedness can and should drive all of us toward hope-filled service of some greater good.
The theological word that Nouwen uses to unpack this idea is “communion.”
For Nouwen and the folks who were a part of his religious community, asking others for money was ultimately an invitation, an invitation into a spiritual communion (48). And in that communion, there was freedom.
Communion is a deeply theological word. Its Latin root is communio, and its Greek root is koinonia.
Both of these words were used in first-century parlance, but both took on deeper meaning when used in the context of a community of faith.
Being together in religious life wasn’t just about sharing a common space or living in proximity to one another or meeting on occasion.
It was about sharing a life – a life whose entire identity was wrapped up in that center we explored above.
And sharing that life with others.
There was a common purpose, a common identity, a common calling, and for many of these earliest communities – there was even a common purse. There was a true sharing of resources, so that all members of that community were cared for.
Now I’m not saying fundraisers and nonprofits should enter into this level of shared life.
That would be a lot.
But it certainly makes sense for fundraisers to see themselves as part of the mission-based community that they serve as a professional.
In an ideal setting, this would be one way to address the grotesquely high turnover rates among fundraising professionals. I heard recently that the average amount of time fundraisers work in one position is 16 months. That’s damaging to our profession, and its damaging to the nonprofits we serve. One way to encourage longevity is to root the fundraising task within the mission community and thereby to foster a deeper sense of connectivity and a more robust possibility of longevity. Those who see themselves as part of the community they serve will feel a deeper tie to that community and will want to stick around to see it do well.
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3 – The best fundraisers understand their task as an overflow of their belonging to that community, and in this identity they find freedom.
They trust that their community is moving into a brighter future and that their job as fundraisers is to help usher in that brighter future.
“This is the freedom of true … communion. Asking for money is a way to call people into this communion with us. …Gathered together by our common yearning, we begin to know this communion as we move together toward our vision” (49).
When we ask for money, we are inviting someone to join us in something meaningful – a community of people who can see a better future and are doing what they can to usher in that brighter future. Their mutual desire for that vision joins them together in a deeper and more meaningful connection than the typical professional connections we share on a day-to-day basis.
And in the best case scenarios, we will find that this newly forged communion with likeminded people will result ultimately in what Nouwen calls “a new fruitfulness.” Productivity and success become by-products of a “deeper creative energy” that propels us together in motion toward that new future.
“Every time we approach people for money, we must be sure that we are inviting them into this vision of fruitfulness and into a vision that is fruitful” (51).
We are free.
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4 – The appropriately centered fundraiser proceeds boldly into the fundraising task, undeterred by the fear and anxiety that often accompany discussions about money.
Nouwen spends several pages thinking through the various forms of anxiety that often coincide with discussions about money.
Money can be a source of jealousy: I want as much money as this person has.
Money can be a source of suspicion: Are they only being nice to me because of my money?
Money can be a source of fear: What will happen if I lose my money?
And money can be a source of anger: It is unfair that you have all the money!
But taken on its own, money should be considered a neutral concept. It is a tool – an important tool, certainly – but it is only a tool. And it should not be considered more than that.
In religious terms, there is a duality set up between the divine and money: “You cannot serve two masters.”
And that makes sense for the religious person, because money is not as “real” as the divine center that drives all of their activity.
Nouwen claims, in fact, that if a person has anxiety around money, it is likely a result of their own insecurities, which is a symptom of a deeper problem: a lack of faith, or in the terms we are using here, a disordered center. They are attributing meaning to a thing that is secondary in the hierarchy of what is real. And this creates a disorientation that ultimately leads to anxiety and fear.
It is for this reason that Nouwen says the fundraiser ultimately needs conversion.
That’s theological term number four (at least). But there is again something there for anyone.
Namely, that in order to ask freely for money, we’ve got to reach the point of rest in our own relation to money.
Now, don’t get me wrong.
I’m a hustler.
And when I’ve got freedom to do fundraising tasks – I’m good at it.
So I’m certainly not advocating for a kind of blasé approach to money or to the task of raising money.
What I am advocating for is a healthy relationship to money, held always in reference to the center that founds our nonprofit identity in the first place. A “zen” relationship, if you will. Or, to borrow a term from Buddhism: detachment.
In Buddhism, detachment is the enlightened response to suffering, which is the starting point of all awareness. Our first observation is an awareness of our finite nature, an awareness that what we want we will often not get, a realization that our existence is mostly accidental, that our time is limited. The person who has come to peace with that observation – truly, fundamentally, substantially – that person has reached Nirvana. And the way to reach a sense of peace with our suffering, even as we are experiencing it, is to be detached from it.
Now in this particular context I want to use this idea as a starting point but then reframe the image it gives us.
In the spirituality I am presenting here, the image is less one of detachment from money and more one of gathering up in service of a greater purpose – which one can do if they are not serving money.
Theologies of detachment can indeed be problematic for a handful of reasons – like the fact that they have enabled suffering.
And we don’t want that.
So we need to nuance this carefully.
And the nuanced image I want to present to you here is the fundraiser as gatherer.
The thing that is more real for the fundraiser – the thing that is more central than the money they are trying to raise – is the mission, the goal, the vision of the organization. Money is the tool to achieve that mission.
And it is the fundraiser’s task to help pull as many resources as possible together toward the accomplishment of that mission.
Fearlessly.
Unapologetically.
Never in a ham-handed way. The mission is fundamentally central – “divine,” if you will; so anything less than an authentically respectful ask would be inappropriate.
But the fundraiser should never be in subservience to the resources themselves. Because the greatest good – the most central thing, the most real thing – is that better vision for the future and the mission that drives the fundraiser’s community toward it.
Here is how Nouwen puts it: Money “is a taboo subject because our own insecurities are connected with it,” and in this way, “We are not free.” When we are scared or jealous or angry, “we reveal that money in some way is still our master and that therefore we are not ready to ask for it” (43).
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5 – The appropriately centered fundraiser has a healthy relationship with rejection.
In appropriately centered fundraising, there is no competition. There is no jealousy.
And here’s the real kicker – there is a healthy relationship with the word “no.”
When our fundamental trust is in the safety of the mission, we are not afraid.
We are not afraid of anything, really.
And we are certainly not afraid of rejection.
Our identity as fundraisers is founded in the center that drives the activity of our nonprofit community. And the ask is a symptom of our belief in the possibilities of that center. It is an invitation to join the community in achieving it.
Nouwen puts it this way: “The reason for the taboo [about money] is that money has something to do with that intimate place in our heart where we need security, and we do not want to reveal our need or give away our security to someone who might betray us” (31).
When our security is built not on the ebbs and flows of potential stakeholders – when it is built on and around that more meaningful center itself, a center that ultimately should not move – we can ask confidently. Because the “no” is not the end. There is a greater good that is the source of our hope.
And trust in the possibilities of that center will lead to a confident freedom – a drive to achieve. We will be compelled to ask, because we know and believe that the center is trustworthy – that it is worthwhile and good.
And we can ask proudly.
Nouwen says, “I ask for money standing up, not bowing down, because I believe in what I am about. I believe that I have something important to offer” (19).
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6 – The appropriately centered fundraiser longs for something better, something new, and works passionately toward the actualization of that new thing.
We’ll wrap things up with this idea.
There is this interesting way that early Christians conceptualized the gap they experienced between what they wanted to be the case and what was actually the case. Before Christianity became wrapped up with the politics of imperial nation-states, it was the sole lifeline of a persecuted minority. The very earliest Christians were mostly uneducated, poverty-stricken folks who didn’t belong to the elite ruling class. And they were often pushed to the side or alienated or actively marginalized or trampled over or even put to death.
So the idea they used to make sense of the profound gap between the life of suffering they were thrown into and the life of flourishing they hoped for was “longing” or, as it is put in some texts, “groaning” – groaning for a new creation, longing for a renewed world.
This idea eventually became spiritualized, but its original form was quite physical, quite flesh and blood. There was a deep longing for actual freedom, a painfully real hope for actual liberation. A “groaning inside ourselves,” waiting with eagerness to be “set free.” And that sense of longing was so profound, so deep, that it was ultimately considered universal, or fundamental. It could be found in nature and in all of the things that make up “the world.”
This is not unlike the idea of a “vision” that nonprofits hold. A vision statement is a proclamation. It’s a dream for a better future. It is a longing for something different, something new and improved, a redemption, a wholeness – fixing something that is broken.
Nonprofit organizations that hold that longing deeply will find their motivation coming from a deep place. Each day, they will wake up with an almost religious conviction that their work is important, that the good thing they envision depends on them for its actualization.
And they will orient their work accordingly.
Nouwen says, “We have a vision that is amazing and exciting. We are inviting you to invest yourself in this work” (17)
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1 – The best fundraising happens when fundraisers understand their task in reference to an appropriate “center.”
2 – The best fundraising occurs when the task of fundraising is seen as an invitation to join a mission-driven community.
3 – The best fundraisers understand their task as an overflow of their belonging in that community, and in this identity they find freedom.
4 – The appropriately centered fundraiser proceeds boldly into the fundraising task, undeterred by the fear and anxiety that often accompany discussions about money.
5 – The appropriately centered fundraiser has a healthy relationship with rejection.
6 – The appropriately centered fundraiser longs for something better, something new, and works passionately toward the actualization of that new thing.
The fundraising that is the most fulfilling for the fundraiser and the donor – and that is the most productive and healthy for the organization that binds them together – happens when the fundraiser can “find a center of things” in the mission of their organization.
Because I’ve gotta tell ya: fundraising is hard.
And it is rarely the case that a fundraiser will continue their task if they have no connection to the mission of the organization they serve.
If there is no center.
In those cases, I find that it is just a matter of time before something gives – hurting either the fundraiser or the organization or both.
So in all of the above, my hope for you is that you will take this moment to reflect on your center – your why, your mission. And to see that your calling as a fundraiser is something much more than a job. It is the opportunity to serve something bigger than yourself. To help usher in a new, better future for the community you serve. And as a fundraiser, to invite others into that mission-based community; to see that your calling is not only a good for the mission you serve; it is a good for the world we share.
