The Money Raisers

Where once they had only to pass a plate among Sunday attenders, churches nowadays raise money in ways that range from bingo to bonds. Fund raising brings up questions of taste, discretion, prudence and donor psychology that stir heated debates across the land. TIME correspondents, sampling opinion among churchgoers and ministers last week, found that the "crasser" gimmicks of fund raising are giving way, but only slowly, to various forms of direct donation.

Bingo King Co., Inc., of Denver, reportedly the biggest maker of bingo equipment, says that business is better than ever before. Many clergymen find bingo playing the most embarrassing of fund-raising devices, and are openly grateful if it is outlawed by state or city ordinances. But 13 states have specifically legalized it; in New Jersey, churches and synagogues grossed $18.5 million last year, and in New York the take is even bigger.

Dinners & Bazaars. The Rev. E. W. Albrecht, pastor of the South Miami Lutheran Church, scorns the practice of "roping people for fund-raising dinners in competition with restaurants." But the Very Rev. Nicholas Maestrini, Superior of the Pontifical Institute for Foreign Missions, each year raises $65,000 by a $100-a-plate dinner at Cobo Hall in Detroit. The sociable, old-fashioned church supper remains a respected but inefficient way of raising funds.

Selling pews was drummed out of most Protestant churches long ago; yet Gilead Baptist Church in Detroit recently inaugurated a $1.20 weekly payment by each member for the "space" he takes in church. Bazaars are under fire: the Rev. Eugene Carper, director of research and strategy for the Massachusetts Council of Churches, thinks that bazaar workers should do some thing more beneficial for the spiritual life of the church, like visiting the sick and the aged in hospitals. But in May the Congregational church in wealthy Winnetka, a Chicago suburb, held a rummage sale that raised $40,000 from donated mink coats, a color TV set, designer clothes, original paintings, crystal and china.

Raising capital for building--as opposed to getting money for week-to-week operation--creates other controversies. Baptist Minister the Rev. Dale Ihrie of Grosse Pointe Woods, Mich., financed his church by selling bonds to his congregation; they liked it because "they owe the money to themselves," and he liked it because many holders eventually "convert the bonds into donations." Others insist on more businesslike borrowing from banks or from such church-sponsored agencies as the $100 million American Baptist Extension Corp. Roman Catholics favor blunt fund-raising campaigns to finance major building programs. In the fall of 1962, Archbishop Joseph T. McGucken began a $15,500,000 campaign, partly to pay for a new cathedral in San Francisco to replace the one that burned. He had no trouble raising the amount in seven months, with some donations of as much as $100,000.

Pledges & Tithing. Catholics also go for professional fund raisers, hired for a fee. In the Washington Diocese, about 80% of the fund raising for major projects is done by pros, says Auxiliary Bishop John Spence. Recognizing the growing role of professionalism, the Methodists' American University in Washington awards M.A.s and Ph.D.s in church business management. But some Protestant clergymen now tend to think that professional fund raising is counterproductive. Says the Rev. Theodore Palmquist: "Our people don't like to give when they know that 10% of their money will go to professionals."

Groping for a more straightforward form of fund raising usually leads churches to strive for pledges of money. Pledging means sending a regular check to the church treasurer. It is orderly and convenient for people who need canceled checks for income-tax deductions, and for those who, not going to church regularly, cannot dependably contribute by collection plate.

In a tougher form, pledging becomes tithing; some Protestant fundamentalists stress tithing so much that it almost seems a prerequisite for membership. The Rt. Rev. Msgr. Don H. Hughes, a Catholic, wrote a leaflet that shows a crucified Christ with the inscription, "God's sacrifice for me!" and on the back says:

"God gives me--100%

I return to God--10%

Balance for me--90% "

Churches must have money, and most ministers stoutly defend fund-raising systems that work. But many would also prefer to "do away with bazaars, raffles and anything that smacks of a church supported by gadgets," as the Rev. James Madden, vice chancellor of the Diocese of Galveston-Houston, puts it. He, and others, want "to bring back the idea that supporting the church is something natural."

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