Narrative Philanthropy, Part I 
by Jim Grote

Reprinted from the February 2004 issue of Planned Giving Today. Copyright © 2004. All rights reserved. 

“God made man because he loves stories.”
                                       ¾ Elie Wiesel

About a month before Christmas a couple of years ago, I received a phone call from a loyal donor and gift annuitant. At the time, the charity I work for, Boys’ Haven (a residential treatment center for abused boys), was weathering the recession as best we could. Program service fees were down because the State of Kentucky’s budget was even more of a mess than its legislature.

Donor dollars were down, but thankfully, not nearly in proportion to the economic downturn. And our endowment had headed south following the S & P index, which was down 9 percent in 2000, 12 percent in 2001 and a staggering 22 percent in 2002. All in all, I was feeling that the National Committee on Planned Giving should consider nominating Ebeneezer Scrooge as the patron saint of planned giving officers.

Mark’s Story
Thankfully, Claire’s voice on the other end of the phone interrupted these un-yuletide musings. She was calling on behalf of her husband, Mark, who wanted to make sure Boys’ Haven received its annual gift of stock. Claire needed to double-check the name of our bank, our account number and our DTC number. There was a sense of urgency in her voice that I couldn’t quite understand. Christmas was still a few weeks away, and “urgent” stock calls usually did not come in till the last week in December.

Her husband couldn’t come to the phone, she said, because he was busy. As it turned out, he was busy being cared for by hospice workers in the next room. Yet, despite his own impending death, he and Claire were taking care of what they obviously considered their most pressing business at hand ¾ philanthropy. Claire even apologized on the phone for being so “disorganized” and for Mark’s not being able to come to the phone himself! Mark died three days after this phone call.

I’ve shared this story so many times since then that it’s become part of my own life story. I keep a picture of Mark on my desk at work and whenever times are tough (which seem to be most days in the fund-raising world), I look at his photo and chuckle to myself ¾ “time for an attitude adjustment.” I’ve noticed him crack a smile on occasion.

Passion and Stories
In a recent article aptly titled, “Stalled in Our Vehicles” (Planned Giving Today, November 2003), Shari Fox argues that the job of PGOs is not to sell tax vehicles but to “generate passion and motivate action.” The secret to philanthropy, Shari intimates, does not lie in your donor’s tax savings and your trust flow charts, or even in your agency’s performance statistics and measurable outcomes. The secret lies in whatever generates passion.

The National Committee on Planned Giving probably does not need to do another survey to answer the question: Do tax vehicles and measurable outcomes generate passion in your philanthropic life? Jim Davis, executive director of Kentucky’s Gheens Foundation, drove this point home to me the other day. He remarked that the philanthropic pendulum has swung about as far as it can in the direction of statistics and outcomes.

Jim sees the pendulum slowly swinging back to the softer side of the philanthropic arc. In fact, he recommends a book for development officers, The Spirituality of Imperfection: Storytelling and the Journey to Wholeness by Ernest Kurtz and Katherine Ketcham (New York: Bantam Books, 1992). The general thesis of the book? Nothing brings people together like shared stories.

I would like to suggest that the secret to philanthropy in general and planned giving in particular lies in shared stories. One good story is worth at least 10,000 measurable outcomes.

Beyond Venture Philanthropy
The current enthusiasm for venture philanthropy needs to be complemented by an appreciation for the narrative side of philanthropy. Granted, venture philanthropy brings a sorely required businesslike rigor to the world of charitable giving in its emphasis on measurable outcomes, efficiency and transparency (all worthy goals in themselves). Since planned giving emphasizes the investment side of charitable giving, its connection with venture philanthropy is understandable. 

However, when it comes to generating passion, it’s probably safe to assume that stories trump statistics. For the average donor, stories are a stimulant while statistics are a sedative.

Consider the distinctions between venture philanthropy and narrative philanthropy in the following chart.

When I asked Al Cassidy, senior counsel for gift planning at St. Meinrad Archabbey and School of Theology, why people give to his institution, he responded, “People give money to St. Meinrad because the love they have in their hearts prompts them to do so.” While he freely admits that his donors spend a great deal of time explaining to their family and friends the logical reasons for giving to St. Meinrad, these reasons never fully explain their initial motivation.

“Yes, there are reasons for giving, but that is not what opens people up.” What opens people up are stories. As Al says, “people understand stories.” The stories motivating his donors often are sermons given by an alumnus of St. Meinrad’s, sermons they never forgot.

Odds are that what made these sermons memorable was some particular story told in the sermon. If business practices function as models for venture philanthropy, what models support narrative philanthropy? Two possible models are narrative theology and narrative therapy.

Narrative Theology
Narrative theology seeks to recover the primacy of the story form in the Bible and to keep the Bible from being reduced to a series of abstract propositions (what has been called propositional theology).

Dr. Richard Stern, who teaches preaching at St. Meinrad School of Theology, has a unique take on narrative theology (perhaps because of his background in instructional technology). According to Stern, a biblical story functions as a mirror that allows readers to see themselves in the story. “Stories like Jesus’ parables draw us in as participants. We identify with the characters and see ourselves as part of the story.”

This active participation in the story is crucial to the learning process. Studies show that we tend to forget abstract information because we cannot identify with “information.” We can, however, identify with “characters” and so are inclined to store information in story form. As Stern comments, “People remember selectively. We remember things based on our previous experiences or on our hopes for the future. If new information does not fit into these experiences or hopes, we have much more trouble remembering it.” Our memory, in a sense, is hardwired for stories.

Narrative Therapy
Narrative therapy also emphasizes the importance of stories. The guru of narrative therapy, Australian Michael White (see his work at www.dulwichcentre.com), argues that traditional psychiatry actually makes people sicker by subtly encouraging them to identify with psychological labels. “Hello, I’m Joe and I’m neurotic.” “Hello, I’m Jane and I’m manic-depressive.” “I’m Beth and I’m obsessive-compulsive.”

Nonsense, says White. If you tell your problem long enough to someone, you’ll end up identifying with that problem. “Hello, I’m Sally and I’m a victim of child abuse.” But for narrative therapists, “stories don’t mirror life, they shape it.”

According to Vern Rickert, adjunct clinical professor at the University of Louisville, the goal of narrative therapy is to help clients separate from, not identify with, their problems. Clients need to develop alternative stories to the dominant story of their problem, a story that adversely shapes their life. Sally, for example, can learn to rewrite her victim story as the story of a resilient, self-reliant survivor. After this rewrite, abuse is no longer the dominant plot in her life story. She has created a more hopeful plot.

Narrative Philanthropy
Like its sister disciplines, narrative philanthropy provides a new way of looking at the world. Philanthropy can offer some donors an opportunity to rewrite dominant life stories that focus too much on their net worth. “Hello, I’m Donald and I’m a decamillionaire.” “Hello, I’m Paris and I’m an heiress.”

This idea of donors being able to rewrite their life stories through the vehicle of charitable giving is surely worthy of further investigation. For example, philanthropy can move donors beyond problem-saturated stories about the grind of building a business or the headaches of family business rivalry. It might provide a “happy ending” or possibly a “new beginning.” And, of course, for many donors (like the story of Mark and his urgent gift of stock), philanthropy provides an even “happier ending” to an already fulfilling life of giving back to the community.

If donors can articulate their own “gift stories,” these stories might actually trigger new “life stories.” “I feel good about this gift. I really made a difference.” Furthermore, these gift stories encourage other potential donors to embrace the joy of giving. As narrative therapists say, “stories don’t mirror life, they shape it.”

The same process is true of PGOs. A narrative approach to philanthropy can build enthusiasm for development officers. “I’ve got the greatest job in the world. I’m creating stories with happy endings.” And it can help PGOs avoid the temptation to view donors as merely deep pockets by listening more attentively to their donors’ stories (per the following chart).

For PGOs, narrative philanthropy highlights the importance of having a firm grasp of your institution’s story, your donors’ stories and especially your own story. It is these stories that produce gifts. In total, your collection of stories might include:

• Founder stories (including board member stories)

• Staff stories (including PGO stories)

• Service stories (stories of people served by your agency)

• Alumni stories

• Donor stories

The Comedy of Philanthropy
While the first part of this article has been a bit theoretical, the second part (next month) will focus on the shared stories themselves ¾ stories that hopefully move from “once upon a time” to “and they gave happily ever after.” This emphasis on story is not intended to cast a saccharine sweetness over the philanthropic world. The comedy of philanthropy is generally a response to real human need and real human tragedy.

Shakespeare divided his wonderful stories into two basic plots ¾ comedy and tragedy. Comedy refers not just to humor, but also to stories with a happy ending (i.e., marriage). Tragedy refers to stories with an unhappy ending (i.e., death). In unique fashion, planned giving combines both comedy and tragedy in a fruitful marriage of opposites. Through this marriage of comedy and tragedy, a wonderful child who might be christened “legacy” transforms unhappy endings into happy endings and happy endings into even happier ones.

Jim Grote is director of development for Father Maloney's Boys' Haven in Louisville, Kentucky. He has published numerous articles on planned giving and related subjects. Jim is a member of PGT's Editorial Advisory Board. JGrote@boyshaven.org

Reprints of this article are available from PGT (800-KALL-PGT).