GOD AND MONEY
Part of the mission of a comprehensive center is to span the whole field of philanthropy and the whole scope of the university; teaching, research, and service. Two areas that the Indiana University Center is building in depth are fund raising and ethics and values.
It is the
deep tension between fund raising realities and ethical and religious
values that seems to me most interesting. If we embrace both of those
perspectives we will have embraced the matrix of the spiritual and the
material, of the religious and the economic, of the ethical aspirations
and the practical techniques that are the defining characteristics of
philanthropy. Therefore, my short essay on "God and Money" is
intended to compress both perspectives into as tight a conceptual space
as possible.
And
so I approach the subject of religion and philanthropy as one of those
concerned with finding ways to study and teach the subject. There is
another reason for attending carefully to religion and philanthropy. It
is embedded in the research undertaken by Independent Sector and a few
others into the giving and volunteering behavior of Americans. For me,
the most important information coming out of the research thus far has
to do with the behavior of those people who place a high value on
religion and who express that value by attending church regularly and
frequently. The recent (1988) Independent Sector report on its national
survey of Giving and Volunteering contains this information:
Average
annual household giving is $562; average giving among those who attend
church weekly is $1,109. The average percentage of giving for all givers
is 1.5 percent of household income; among those who attend church weekly
the average is 2.7 percent. The average number of hours volunteered per
week is 2.1; the average number of hours volunteered per week by those
who attend church frequently is 3.2. The number of people who attend
church weekly is 29 percent of the total; those who rarely or never
attend represent 32 percent of the total.
I
draw some rough inferences from these and other even more familiar
figures. Philanthropic giving and volunteering is dominated by those
most actively involved in organized religion. No other field of activity
claims even a third as many of the philanthropic dollars contributed as
does religion. Of even more notable interest is that giving to religion
is the means by which many Americans support other nonreligious
organizations and causes.
My
own working conclusion is that the strength of American philanthropy is
based upon its religious origins and values and traditions. My own
conviction--and it must be merely that, because I can't prove it--is
that philanthropy would not survive the significant deterioration of its
religious values and character. I am not arguing that all philanthropy
is religious; I am arguing that the American philanthropic tradition is
religious, in its philanthropic as well as in its charitable dimension.
The theory of philanthropy is built upon the reality of charity, as much
for the nonreligious Carnegie as for the believing Rockefeller, as much
for the secular Sierra Club as for the religious Salvation Army.
The
anthropologist Mary Douglas once commented to me that one doesn't need
religion to explain the origins of philanthropy. A similar perspective
is shared by some historians, and probably by many if not most social
scientists. Many who approach religion from the perspective of other
disciplines explain religious behavior in nonreligious terms. I am not
yet persuaded that these others' views are more enlightening, but I am
convinced that the diverse perspectives add up to an issue worth
examining more carefully and discussing more fully.
There is a
third inference that I've drawn from the first two: If people who attend
church weekly lead the way in giving and volunteering, and if there is a
close link between their behavior and their religious commitments, then
it seems to me very important that we should know more about these
people if we hope to understand American philanthropy as it now exists.
Not being a disciplined scholar I draw readily on my experience to test what I think I know. My experience includes involvement at varying levels of activity over the years in two mainline Protestant denominations. My reading and observation and some of my involvement with those denominations has been at the level of the denomination as well as at the level of the congregation. I have known some members of the clergy as close personal friends, others as intellectual and professional colleagues. And I have sat in the pews with other lay people like myself. I don't recommend that others follow my approach, and I hope that more rigorous inquiry buttresses our knowledge of philanthropy as an element of congregational life.
Serious
understanding of American philanthropy is not often to be found at the
denominational level. It is rarely found among the clergy or among those
who teach the clergy in theological schools. In my opinion the
denominational leadership is philanthropically out of touch with the
people in the pews. It has become preoccupied with 'issues at the
national and international level to an extent that simply passes beyond
the interest among ordinary churchgoers. It seems obvious that at the
denominational level it has been politics rather than philanthropy that
church leaders are most interested in. Some seem clearly to share the
view that voluntary action is a poor substitute for governmental action.
Efforts to increase voluntary giving and voluntary service are seen as
an obstruction to social progress.
My
purpose is not to dismiss as unimportant the issues that the
denominations urge upon us. The struggle over the social gospel is at
least a century old and the debate is as important now as it was then.
My sense is that religious understanding rises up from immediate
experience. The links between that understanding among parishioners and
the grand social conceptualizing of the denominational leaders are not
strong enough to support the programs that are advocated. The resulting
sense is one of continually falling short at the larger levels of
ambition-when there is in fact much to be praised and admired at
the local level. Irving Kristol told a relevant story at the national
meeting of the Council on Foundations a few years ago:
I'll
never forget my first job, working for a fine mechanic, who was an
illiterate and who owned the factory. After I'd been there a few days,
he took me aside and said, "Irving, I
want you to remember two things; First, a thing worth doing
is worth doing cheaply. And second, if something is too hard to do, find
something easier to do."2
The
most obvious difference between the denominational and the
congregational level is that congregations do what is doable.
My friends in the clergy remind me of many of my academic colleagues. They look upon fund raising with distaste. Some of them act as if money comes into the university at night. The essential obstacle may be that of self-esteem: if I am a worthy scholar, as I know I am, others will know that and make it possible for me to do my work. A more recent variant is that as a scholar I have rights to do scholarship; therefore, I have a claim on the public treasury.
The clergy are often bogged down in Washington Gladden's worries about "tainted money." At times they are quite understandably concerned that they can't give their whole commitment to the people they serve if they must turn to the same people for financial support. The larger questions of stewardship and trusteeship are often submerged in what becomes a dreary burden of annual pledge appeals. The members of the congregation can rotate their responsibilities for stewardship; the pastor cannot.
When
I think of the people in the pews I conclude that that is where the
backbone of American philanthropy rests. They are effective for several
reasons.
The first reason is that people who attend church regularly are educated into the tradition of serving others. They are reminded of it every week. They are called upon to give their time and their money to serve others. They are told that that is what religion is all about, reducing all of it to loving God above all and loving one's neighbor as oneself.
"When I think of
the people in the pews I conclude that that is where the backbone of
American philanthropy rests."
The
second reason is that the American tradition of philanthropy, shaped as
much as it has been by the Protestant tradition, assumes
The
third reason why the people in the pews are so important is that they
believe in the principle of self-help and the principle of mutual
aid as well as in the principle of philanthropy. They recognize the range
of action that is called for and they can appreciate the differences.
The
fourth reason is that these people (a) believe in God, and (b) practice
pragmatism. Whatever theological debates are going on in the pulpit or at
the national conferences, the people in the pews are the ones charged with
getting things done. And they do everything: not only do they raise the
money to pay the pastor and maintain the church property and to help the
homeless, they attend to all of the other ordinary problems of buying and
arranging the flowers on the altar and then, after the service, taking
those flowers to people in the hospital. The mockery of these bourgeois
virtues by modern intellectuals is so common that we rarely react to it
anymore. The fact is that morality is always grounded in the ordinary
behavior of ordinary people, and these ordinary religious people see it as
their work to do some of the good that needs to be done in the world.
Pious as they may be on Sunday, most of them are involved on every other
day in useful philanthropic work.
If
American philanthropy has a philosophy, I think we will find it in
American pragmatism. We should look for the truth of philanthropy in the
behavior of ordinary people engaged in the routine work of life.
The
fifth reason why the people in the pews are so important is that they are
more than religious in their values and interests and activities. One
evening I attended the annual business meeting of a reasonably large and
active congregation. In addition to church matters, members in attendance
reported on other activities: the hospital fund raising campaign; the new
organization of parents and teachers and community leaders to deal with
alcohol and drug abuse among teenagers, housing for a family moving into
the area from South Africa; Amnesty International letter writing; and
several musical and dramatic performances.
All
of these things involved members of the congregation not simply as
religious believers but as members of the community. Because this took
place in a Long Island suburban church, many of those present were also
active in business and governmental organizations and educational
institutions in New York City and elsewhere in the metropolitan area.
People who attend church weekly contribute their time and money not only
to their church but to a wide array of other so-called secular
purposes. There is a longstanding close working relationship between
church-going business people and churches in doing all sorts of
community work. Their cooperation is seen in the orchestration of efforts
in the United Way and other community organizations.
If
this general view of how much of the power of American philanthropy is
among those anonymous people in the congregations has any merit, where
does it lead? One direction is toward the education of the denominational
leadership and the clergy about the reality of philanthropy. A second and
perhaps more important direction is toward the fuller education of the
laity about how they can do more than they are already doing. Many of us
know individuals of substantial means and few commitments who don't know
how to go about donating their wealth for philanthropic purposes.
"Planned giving" remains a mystery to most Americans of means.
That ignorance extends to many of the professionals in finance,
accounting, law, and tax work.
The
educational effort within the churches must also address the weakness of
so much giving and fund raising for religious purposes. The powerful
appeals to emotion and crisis overemphasize the immediate and neglect the
long term. They imply quick solutions to intractable problems. Such
approaches do not lead people to long term commitment but to a continuing,
dizzying series of emergencies. Many people manage to maintain their
equilibrium but others become confused. The most difficult tension within
philanthropy is the tension between the immediate and the long term.
Religious education in philanthropy has developed commitment and even
generosity for the immediate, but not understanding for the future.
A
third course to follow recognizes that the goal of expanding giving among
those whose religious values are strong is not simply to increase giving
to religion. The churches can become much more effective facilitators for
giving for all sorts of purposes. What must happen is that the networks
represented in each congregation must be mobilized to become more
effective.
The
longer term goal, of course, is to expand the numbers of people who give
generously of their time as well as their money. The link between the two
kinds of voluntary action is essential if philanthropy is going to avoid
the trap of throwing money at problems. One of the principles of effective
philanthropy has always been to be close to the recipient; that happens
best and most often at the level of community. In the religious tradition,
this means at the level of the congregation.
A
final observation: the surveys would lead us to conclude that people who
are wealthier than the average and better educated than the average attend
church less often. The research does not yet bring it out, but I suspect
that it is because the means and the knowledge of the wealthy and the
educated give them a sense of mastery over their lives. They tend to be
"youthful" in outlook in one very important way-they think
themselves invulnerable. People who attend church regularly sense their
vulnerability, perhaps because they are closer to it, more exposed to it
every day. The ones in church know they are vulnerable, and that everyone
is. That is why philanthropy makes so much sense in religion, and why
religion is so important to philanthropy.
Notes
1.
Independent Sector: "Giving and Volunteering in the United States:
Findings from a National Survey," Washington, D.C.,
1988.
2. Irving Kristol, "Foundations and the Sin of Pride: The Myth of the 'Third Sector;" The Institute for Educational Affairs, Washington, D.C., 1980. (Remarks at the annual conference of the Council on Foundations, Houston, May 30, 1980.)
