How many frequent flyer miles to heaven?

Having lunch a month or so ago with James Clarke of The Star, long time colleague and doyen of South African humour writers, the subject of charity and giving arose.

Clarke insisted that all motorists should make a point of accepting pamphlets that are handed out by those poor wretches at traffic intersections because “they get paid by the number of flyers they hand out, and so you’re actually giving them something by just taking the trouble to slide your window down a few millimetres and take their piece of paper.”

As the meal progressed, the discussion developed into a heady discourse on man’s responsibility to his fellow beings, and whether the meaning of life was as uncomplicated as the raison d’être of the rich on earth was to help the poor, and the challenge for the poor was to survive without sinning.

Exhausted by the profundity of the topic, James leaned towards me and said: “You know, sometimes I worry about not doing enough. Not giving enough to charity or helping the poor.”

He took another sip of imported French wine and added: “I suspect, you know, that charity works on the same principle as frequent flyer miles, and that every time we do some good for someone less fortunate than ourselves, a few more reward points get racked up against our names in heaven.”

Another sip of wine–actually more of a gulp this time–then: “Sometimes I wake up in the night after seeing myself walking up to St Peter at the Pearly Gates and him saying to me: ‘Well, Clarke, how many points have you got?’

“I see myself proudly standing there and saying: ‘Oh, I’ve got 27!’ Then I ask him how many I need to get into heaven, and he says: ‘Two million.’”

The conversation ended there because another guest, a respectable restaurant critic and gourmand, laughed so much he choked on his Osso Bucco and had to go and have a little lie down.

Ever since that lunch I have been wondering why so many charities find it so hard to raise funds. Or closer to home, how so many wealthy Catholic parishes find it so difficult to get a response from the congregation when it comes to raising money for charity.

The conclusion I came to was that something must be wrong with the way requests are communicated.

After chatting to a few marketing colleagues, we came to the conclusion that most of these requests for help were lacking one of the fundamentals of marketing communication–the premise that successful marketing is based not on what a company thinks it should say to the consumer, but rather what the consumer wants to hear from the company.

Translated into requests for charity, when priests from pulpits or chairpeople of parish sub-committees appeal to congregations for donations, what the people want to hear is simply: “How much?”

If they don’t know what is expected of them, they worry about feeling embarrassed by contributing too little, or get irritated when they find they have given far more than anyone else.

This theory was put to the test in a Johannesburg parish recently. By being specific and asking parishioners to contribute R20 per family to a monthly feeding scheme, income was double that for the average month.

So, marketing has a big role to play in helping people get enough air miles for a one-way trip straight to heaven.

We need only to remember that success lies not in what you want to say, but in what someone else wants to hear.