Carol Weisman, author of Raising Charitable Children, offers some truly sage advice for people who are just launching their philanthropic activities or who are trying to help their kids discover their charitable interests.

Weisman suggests that two questions can at least open your mind to possibilities. As yourself, she suggests (or ask your family members): “In the last year, what made you happy?” and, “In the last year, what made you want to cry?”

She tells an amazing story about how this method worked for one family. . . .

*******
Thomas was a three-times divorced business executive. Besides his amazingly profitable businesses, he also had three estranged sons: a five-year-old, a 21-year-old with Down syndrome, and a 26-year-old with whom he had hardly spoken in years.

When I read about Thomas and recognized his personality type, I have to confess, I wondered why he would want to do such a thing, but, for whatever reason, he determined he wanted to create a charitable foundation in his family’s name. He asked Weisman to help him set it up.

During their interview, he told her he figured he’d have some of his business associates sit on the foundation’s board.

She asked him, “If it’s a family foundation, why not invite your kids to serve?”

From Thomas’ perspective, the answer to that question was rather obvious: what value could they possibly bring? A 5-year-old? A Down syndrome 21-year-old? A son with whom I haven’t spoken more than 100 words in the last five years?

But Weisman said she was confident each son would provide some very useful input. So, despite his misgivings, Thomas agreed to let his sons participate.

As I read what happened during Thomas’ first meeting with his sons, I have to confess, I was overcome with emotion. The entire experience was pretty astonishing.

Weisman led the meeting and asked her “what made you happy” question.

There was an awkward silence until the five-year-old replied. Quoting Weisman, now (pp. 30-31):

He said that Chester, his new puppy, made him happy. When I asked why, he said, “Chester is smart and funny, and when I come home, he is always there for me.”

The oldest son, an aspiring actor, said, “I saw a play that I couldn’t stop thinking about. It made me realize that people don’t live forever, and that you can’t hate forever. It’s the reason I’m here today.” . . .

The son with Down syndrome said, “I love my softball team. I like to run and to slide into the plate. I even like the smell of the dirt.”

Finally, I turned to Thomas and asked him, “What made you happy?” He puffed up his chest, sat up straight and said, “Last year I scored a hole-in-one.” I asked him why that was so special. He looked at me like I was a total moron.

I rephrased my question. “Please explain to your sons why, for a man as accomplished as you, a hole-in-one was such a major event.”

He said, “I was with three friends, and they were both happy for me and jealous of me. We had a big celebration at the clubhouse and everyone knew about my hole-in-one.”

I then asked what made each of them want to cry in the last year. Once again, the five-year-old wanted to start. He said, “Chester makes me very sad.” The oldest son asked why. The five-year-old replied, “Something could happen to Chester and he wouldn’t be waiting for me when I come home.”

The son with Down syndrome said, “I hate diabetes and having to stick needles in myself.”

The oldest son said, “I hate sitting by the phone after auditioning for a play, waiting and waiting and waiting. I eat ice cream all day, and then I feel sick and fat and miserable.”

Thomas said proudly, “Nothing makes me cry.”

I tried a different approach. “Could you instead talk about a time in your life when you felt sad?”

He thought for a few moments and then said, “I watched my mother die, day by day, of cancer. Every day, there was less of her and more of the cancer. By the end, she was drugged all the time. I hated the way the hospital smelled. I hated the nurses for not coming in more often. I was 19 years old and alone with her when she died. I was holding her hand and it just turned cold. There was nothing I could do. The one thing I wanted to do was find my father, drag him out of whatever bar he had parked himself in and beat him senseless.” The boys were shocked to see tears in their father’s eyes….

Obviously, this was a pretty emotional meeting. It provided a context in which there was some pretty astonishing communication between people who hadn’t communicated in years–maybe never. And it permitted some breaking down of barriers. And some forgiveness.

But in addition, it also opened up some thoughts about opportunities for charity.

After getting a sense of what most touched them, Weisman suggested that Thomas and his sons find out what agencies might help other people either find the same joys or avoid the same sorrows they had experienced. So the “Joy and Sadness Meeting” became a way for Thomas and his sons to find out what they wanted to give to. In their case, they wound up giving to the Humane Society, to the Special Olympics, to a scholarship program for golf caddies, and to a nonprofit theater company. Personally, if I had been following the “Joy and Sadness” method, I think I would have wanted, at least, to give to a hospital. But, whatever. What Weisman described was a start.

My sense: If you’re just starting out in philanthropy, or if you’re completely lost when you think about where you want to give, or if you’re trying to train your young children simply to give (what Weisman is attempting to teach us how to do in her book), this kind of “Joy and Sadness Meeting” may offer you some truly vital help. And I want to encourage you to use it.

Based on what I read of Thomas and his sons, it seems to me, also, that a “Joy and Sadness Meeting” could break down some truly formidable barriers if your family has difficulty communicating with one with another.

For all these reasons, I wanted to make this technique or methodology known to you.

ON THE OTHER HAND, if you’re more advanced in your giving; if you’ve been giving for a while or you are ready to move on to a deeper level of giving, I would like to suggest you be a bit more strategic in your approach. Don’t just give locally to organizations that have given you or your personal friends a benefit. And don’t just give to those causes that relate to things that cause you great sadness or joy. Rather–or, at least, in addition–give to those things that you know will make the largest impact in the world.

I say this because, for example, as Weisman herself notes, some organizations that may give you great joy or protect you from great sadness are already very well-funded. For instance, Weisman mentions that when her son went to New York as a college student, he fell in love with the Metropolitan Museum of Art. And so, in his freshman year at college, he donated to the Met.

Since then, however, he has realized, as Weisman puts it, “There are people who are going to leave millions to the Met, but nobody is going to die and leave a fortune to El Puente, . . . a tiny community center he came across in his Brooklyn neighborhood.” So, she says, he has made the decision to contribute to smaller, grassroots organizations–like El Puente–rather than to big institutions.

Besides the gifts of large donors, many of the bigger nonprofit organizations also enjoy the benefits of huge endowment funds which throw off so much income every year that some of these agencies, honestly, don’t require additional donations in order to carry out their charitable purposes. They continue to ask for funds, but they could get along for years just fine without one more contribution. Many smaller agencies, meanwhile–groups like Weisman’s son’s favorite, El Puente–are very thinly funded.

And then there are the nonprofits that are working on vital projects in out-of-the-way places–perhaps overseas. They are simply not in the forefront of popular culture . . . so “no one” considers them.

As my old friends at the US Center for World Mission taught me, if you think of the world’s needs as a giant log, and you think of the groups that are trying to solve those needs as a mass of 20 people, 19 of them are crowded at one end while one person is at the other trying to lift his end all by himself. When you come along, to which end will you run to offer support?

The reality: 95% of us will go to the end where the 19 people already are. Only 5% of us will go to the end where the lone person is working by himself.

I believe the ratio ought to be different. And I want to be on the end where help is needed most.

So when the next Katrina hits, even though the need will be great, I have committed myself to maintain my focus on the “other” needs–even while the social pressure will be great, and all my friends and neighbors will be running to the aid of the millions of people in New Orleans.

“What’s the matter with you?” they will ask.

And I will answer, “Sorry. The hundreds of millions of devastated human beings in India, I think, need my attention more.”

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