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Notes for
the by Paul Pribbenow, Ph.D. |
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Philanthropy is a journey. Let JGA be your guide. Johnson, Grossnickle and
Associates LLC
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Volume
Two, Number Two (December 2000) ****** "What we have loved, others will love, and we will teach them how." (W. Wordsworth, from "The Prelude") NOTES FROM READERS >>What you think<< I am grateful for the
many warm greetings on the occasion of the first anniversary of my Notes
in October. Your
participation in the community of reflective practitioners means a great
deal to me and to the common work we share. Thank you. I received an
insightful comment from Dianne Johnson, director of planned gifts for Epworth
St. Louis. Dianne was struck by the quote from Mary Catherine Bateson
concerning the need for all of us to practice “responsible
improvisation,” and writes that “Seeing our efforts to communicate
and create meaningful interactions as ‘improvisational’ in nature
seemed to me a very inspiring way to be about the work.”
At the same time, however, Dianne had recently read a comment by
my teacher, Martin Marty, who suggested that improvisation also could
have negative implications, leading to an erosion of moral focus in our
lives. Marty suggests, and
Dianne agrees, that improvisation could become an excuse for not holding
to our principles, our center—a sort of flitting around from one
practice to the other, without reflecting on why.
In the end, Dianne admits that both Bateson and Marty have
important things to say about improvisation—despite the tensions.
I might remind all of us that the operative word in Bateson’s
phrase is probably “responsible” improvisation, connecting our
practices to our values and suggesting a certain accountability. I have made several forays around the country in the past month or so to present stewardship workshops. I welcome many new subscribers from my workshop participants in Topeka, Kansas; Atlanta, Georgia; and Valparaiso, Indiana—thanks for your hospitality and thanks for joining our online community. [I’ll tell you all sometime about being in Topeka on the night of, and morning after, the presidential election!] Occasionally, I (or my colleagues) refer to items from previous issues of Notes. If you have not been a subscriber previously, and wish to review our conversations, past issues of Notes are available on-line at www.jgacounsel.com. The website version of Notes also includes helpful hyperlinks to sources for purchasing or subscribing to the various publications mentioned in Notes. I thank my friends at Johnson, Grossnickle & Associates for their abiding support for our reflective practice. ****** REFLECT
ON THIS >>The
domestic arts<< As you may have
noticed, I am a devotee of Wendell Berry, whose work consistently
challenges and inspires me (and there is nothing I value more than being
inspired!). In a recent
issue of “The Sun” (September
2000, pp. 20-23), Berry offers an intriguing essay titled, “In
distrust of movements.” Now, the activists in our midst, who look to social movements
as among the most pure forms of common purpose and action, may protest,
but allow Berry to make his point. Talking specifically
about movements concerning environmental issues (land use, clean water,
etc.), Berry says that such efforts are “too specialized, they are not
comprehensive enough, they are not radical enough…leaving causes in
place…they propose that the trouble is caused by other people.”
Berry believes that movements get confused or preempted because
they do not deal with the root causes of the problems they address, and
therefore they lose the language that inspires all of us to join in,
understand the issues and causes addressed by the movement, and get
something done that has lasting impact.
If we lose the language, we lose the imagination, the means to
inspire each other to genuine and lasting action. Berry suggests that we
all give up hope and belief in piecemeal, one-shot solutions to big
problems. Such problems are
messy and complex, and must be addressed as such.
He also recommends that all of us who join movements must take
full responsibility for ourselves as part of the problem.
For example, if we are going to teach the economy what it is
doing (i.e., criticize the economy through the lens of our movement),
then we need to learn (and criticize) what we personally are doing.
In other words, these must be private as well as public
movements. Berry’s call for all
of us to learn the disciplines of the domestic arts (alongside the fine
arts and the liberal arts!) is his specific response to the needs of the
environmental movements, but also offers all of us a helpful corrective
to our tendencies to forget how much we must be willing to do, to give
up, to change, if the world will ever change.
Berry says, “The callings and disciplines that I have spoken of
as the domestic arts are stationed all along the way from the farm to
the prepared dinner, from the forest to the dinner table, from
stewardship of the land to hospitality to friends and strangers.
These arts are as demanding and gratifying, as instructive and as
pleasing, as the so-called fine arts.
To learn them is, I believe, our profoundest calling.” Have you learned the domestic arts? >>Remembering
why<< A few years back I
began work on a manuscript for a book that offers my thoughts about the
nature of the professions in America, and especially the state of the
philanthropic fundraising profession.
I have plenty of material, and could probably present a fairly
compelling picture of the work we do and how it relates to the various
trends in the professions in our society, but I have found it difficult
to focus attention on that version of the book.
A recent conversation with a colleague suggested why I was having
such difficulty. In 1998, I wrote an
essay entitled “Are You A Force for Good?” (“Advancing
Philanthropy,” Spring 1998), which was a sort of pep talk,
manifesto, sermon—all wrapped into one—about the work of
philanthropic fundraising and about the privilege those of us who do
this work enjoy in helping the public to pursue philanthropy.
Shortly after the essay was published, I received a request for
reprint rights from the Association for
Lutheran Development Executives (ALDE), which wanted to create a
pamphlet containing the essay that would be included with the ALDE
membership package. I was
flattered and gave permission. A
few weeks ago, a participant at one of my workshops said that she kept
the pamphlet in her briefcase and anytime she was feeling beat down by
her work, she pulled it out and reread my words.
That is what we must do for each other. I now understand that
what I need to write is not an extended argument about the professions,
but a series of meditations about our work and how they relate to
broader goods and purposes—all of us need words and ideas and values
that bring us back to why we do what we do, who we do it for, what
difference it makes…And so I have begun my meditations and here is an
initial sketch. *The
company of witnesses* Reinforcements are at
hand. I think that one of the
difficult things for those of us who work in the philanthropic community
is that it sometimes seems like we’re all alone.
This is tough work—stressful, goal-driven, not always clear
lines of accountability, a sense that we are out here trying to do good
work for our organizations and for the public, but finding that people
don’t always understand, that motivations are often mixed, that
rejection of our genuine efforts to enlist support is draining and
hurtful. Even if we are
fortunate to have volunteer and staff colleagues in our efforts, it
still is the case that, in the end, we personally must face the end of
the day and its confusing mix of sadness and elation.
That can be very lonely indeed. I think our loneliness
is tied to some very concrete dynamics of life in contemporary society.
We are not a very historical people.
We forget that many have gone before us, preparing a path, giving
us the gift of shoulders upon which to stand as we do our work today.
We are not a people comfortable with talk of money—and like it
or not, our work as fundraisers is often about money.
So, we hide the nature of our work with various euphemisms:
advancement, development, philanthropic professionals…and, in the mean
time, we forget to talk about why our work makes such a difference for
so many people. We are a
people without the imagination to see that our work is always common.
We spend so much time worrying about how we will succeed
personally that we lose sight of the social character of life in the
world. We forget that it is
we who succeed or fail, we who go on or not, we who create a more humane
world, a richer and more adventurous society, a good life worth living
well. But reinforcements are
at hand—and the hope and help they offer us are just what we need when
the loneliness threatens to break our good spirits.
Some of us know them as the company of witnesses, those
individuals and communities, both historical and contemporaneous, whose
good works and patterns for living in the world offer each of us the
examples, vocabularies, ideas, and faith we need to make our way. Perhaps you will learn
from Jane Addams,
the great social reformer who lived with those she served on Chicago’s
west side. Or perhaps it
will be St.
Francis of Assisi, who instructs us to “Preach the Gospel always;
and when necessary, use words.” Or
Robert K. Greenleaf, who
both lived and communicated his vision of leaders as servants.
Or your next-door neighbor who delivers Meals-on-Wheels everyday.
Or the founder of your organization, whose vision for the world
translated into concrete philanthropic action.
Or your parents, who taught you well.
Or the homeless man, selling newspapers on the street corner,
whose sincere “thank you” captures the essence of gratitude. You are not alone.
The work you do makes you part of a great company of witnesses to
the good that is possible when we share a common purpose, share abundant
gifts, and share the confusing mix of sadness and elation that is the
stuff of our daily lives. Reinforcements
are at hand and with their help, we go on with renewed energy and
patience and wisdom to do our work in the world. [Questions for
reflection: Who are the
members of your company of witnesses and what do they teach you about
your work in philanthropy? How
do you recall the lessons of the company of witnesses in your daily
work—do you have a list, a picture, a favorite passage or text?
How do you deal with the confusing mix of sadness and elation
that is the stuff of our daily lives in the world?
How do you share the lessons from your company of witnesses with
others?] ****** PRACTICE
THIS >>Deck
the halls<< This is a season when
symbols abound. Sacred or
secular (and often an odd mix of the two), symbols are all around us.
Holiday trees, lights, nativity scenes, special foods, wrapped
packages, Menorah, wreaths…we all recognize the symbols and the
memories and feelings they evoke for us. It seems fitting that,
in the midst of such a symbolic time, we might consider together the
abiding role that symbols play in our individual and corporate lives.
Too often we take them for granted, not recognizing the ways in
which symbols evoke responses—both constructive and not so—when we
experience them. I learned a good bit
about the role of symbols in organizational cultures from the classic
management text, “Corporate
Cultures” (Terrence Deal and Allan Kennedy, Addison-Wesley, 1982),
and from Deal and Lee Bolman in their organizational behavior overview, “Reframing
Organizations: Artistry, Choice, and Leadership” (Jossey-Bass, 2nd
edition, 1997). Deal and
Bolman offer this helpful list of core assumptions about the symbolic
nature of our lives in organizations:
I often tell the
story—perhaps my most extreme experience of a symbolic culture—of
the representatives from a high-tech company who visited the School
of the Art Institute of Chicago when I was vice president there to
resolve a contract dispute for a training program we ran for them.
The president of the School and I were well prepared to discuss
contract details and get the program back on track, but the lead
official for the high tech company opened our conversations by
challenging us to say whether or not the School wanted to be their
partner on a great journey down the Information Superhighway!
It wasn’t about contracts; it was about the mythology of
creating an exciting new information society.
Once we shared that symbolic understanding of our partnership,
the contracts would take care of themselves.
And so they did. Symbols may not be
sufficient to sustain a life—just ask Apple
Computer—but if we watch for them, we may find that they are a
critical part of how we motivate each other to work together for common
goods. Deck the halls and
all that stuff. >>Some
more teaching tips<< Some of you know that I
have been serving as the interim minister for a small Lutheran church in
Attica, Indiana, for the past couple of years.
It is a special part of my life and the discipline of writing a
sermon each week has been a very valuable lesson.
As a pastor, I receive many publications that few of you would
have reason to review, including an occasional journal entitled
“Lutheran Partners.” In a recent issue of the journal (November/December 2000),
Jay Rochelle (a minister in Pennsylvania) offers some helpful tips for
preaching in a postmodern world. I
think that his tips are equally relevant for the work all of us do as
leaders and teachers for our staffs and volunteers.
With a few emendations for context, here are Rochelle’s tips:
>>Vision
quest<< I think these questions
from Randall Ponder’s book, “The
Leader’s Guide: 15 Essential Skills” (Oasis Press, Central
Point, Oregon) are a helpful guide to developing personal and
organizational visions. *Inward-oriented
questions*
*Outward-oriented
questions*
Our answers to these
questions—answers that must be constantly pursued—may offer us
wisdom for the vision we are living into. ****** PAY
ATTENTION TO THIS >>Commonplaces<< Anne Fadiman, the
editor of “The
American Scholar,” recently quoted the 17th century
scholar and preacher Thomas Fuller, who wrote “A common-place-book
contains many notions in garrison, whence the owner may draw out an army
into the field.” (Autumn
2000, p.2) For Fuller and
Fadiman, commonplace books are hand-copied collections of memorable
passages from books they have read—and in those commonplaces are the
ammunition, the inspirations, the clarifications, the meditations, and
the sensations to understand the why and how and what of life in the
world. Perhaps it is the theme
of this issue of “Notes” to draw upon the richness of texts and
experiences, both historical and contemporary, to inform our daily
lives. Perhaps this is a
call for all of us to find and write down (or type out or graffiti into
your PDA!) our commonplaces. >>Some
new resources<< A few new potential
sources for your reflective practice. “The Works: Your
Source for Being Fully Alive” is a quarterly magazine published by The
Crossroads Center in Chicago (www.crossroads-center.org)
that includes a wide range of articles about faith and work—and the
various permutations thereof. In this season of
giving, the “Key Nonprofit Strategist” (Volume 6, No. 4) reminds us
of the good work of various online sources for information about the
accountability of nonprofits, including Guidestar (www.guidestar.com),
the National Charities Information Bureau (www.give.org),
the American Institute of Philanthropy (www.charitywatch.org),
and the Philanthropic Advisory Service of the Council of Better Business
Bureaus (www.bbb.org/about/pas). I have been greatly
aided in recent weeks by my new
pocket version of “The Declaration of Independence” and “The
Constitution of the United States of America,” published by the Cato
Institute (www.cato.org).
Remember the truths we hold to be self-evident. >>Words
of wisdom for the mean time<< The British poet, W.H.
Auden, offers, in “For the Time Being,” these remarkable words
of wisdom for all of us facing the season ahead and the days that
follow: “Well, so that is that. Now, we must dismantle the tree, Putting the decorations back into their cardboard boxes— Some have gotten broken—and carrying them up to the attic… To those who have seen The Child, however dimly, however incredulously, The Time Being is, in a sense, the most trying time of all. For the innocent children who whispered so excitedly Outside the locked door where they knew the presents to be Grew up when it was opened… In the meantime There are bills to be paid, machines to keep in repair Irregular verbs to learn, the Time Being to redeem From insignificance.” And there is our task. All good wishes for
your holidays. >>Subscription
information<< Subscriptions to Notes
are simple to establish. Send
me an email at pribbenp@wabash.edu,
ask to be added to the list, and you will receive a confirmation from
the mailserver at Wabash College
that you are on the list. Please
feel free to forward your email versions of Notes to others—they then
can subscribe by contacting me. I
also am happy to send Notes as an MS Word attachment to an email, if
that would make reading it easier for some of you.
Just let me know. The
current and archive issues of Notes are available on-line at www.jgacounsel.com. >>Topics
for the next issue (February 2001)<<
(c) Paul Pribbenow, 2000 |
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