What a Mennonite Pie Auction Teaches Us About Marketing & Fundraising Strategy
If you lead a charity or non-profit organization today, you are expected to think like an executive. You need strategic plans, clear goals, and strong governance. You need good data to track measurable outcomes. You need to demonstrate that resources are being well stewarded and communicate the impact back to Boards, donors, volunteers, and staff.
And you should. The pursuit of excellence isn’t the enemy.
In fact, when we look at the next generation of leadership - a shift I love tracking- we’re seeing incredibly disciplined builders. It’s a huge encouragement to spend time with these leaders who refuse to see business excellence and missional values as separate silos. They test new ideas, leverage modern tech, build systems, and enjoy proving ROI to their boards. (If you haven’t listened to it yet, I share my thoughts on that on this Cause Leadership podcast.)
But, in this necessary pursuit of rigour and excellence and the adoption of corporate best practices, there’s a danger: corporate assumptions.
Assumptions like:
Something is only valuable if it can be measured.
Every relationship must be optimized.
Every interaction must move someone further down a funnel.
People are potential donors to be attracted.
And these assumptions? They’ll steal the soul from our work.
What a Mennonite Pie Auction Can Teach Us About Strategic Fundraising
When I think about traditional marketing or fundraising, a cringeworthy image comes to mind: a person using whatever clever marketing tactics they have in their back pocket to magically extract money from the pocket of another person, without them entirely realizing it, or simply because they feel guilted into it. Ugh. If that’s marketing and fundraising, I don’t want to be part of it.
One of the kindest things a long-time client has ever said to me happened just this Spring. He said, “Marketing is inherently opportunistic. Your team is just the opposite.”
I think that might have something to do with where I live.
As a West Coast-born & raised transplant living in the Waterloo Region, I’ve been introduced to the Mennonite fundraising phenomenon of the Pie Auction. And it’s blown my mind.
Just this year, I've been part of three of them. It’s an incredible experience. (If you’re ever invited to one, make sure you accept - and take your wallet.)
A church or community centre gym will be filled with hundreds of people, all prepared to enjoy a meal together and support a cause they care about. There is minimal technology, but there are a lot of friendly conversations and laughter. There is no sophisticated donor experience, but there is a lot of excitement. There is no show culminating in a carefully crafted appeal or pitch, but there is an earnest approach and a real need to be met.
And, importantly, there are very long tables full of pies, cakes, and desserts made by people in the room, and a live auction begins.
These desserts sell for hundreds, even thousands, of dollars. In fact, just two weeks ago, my niece’s dish of trifle sold for $1010. And, my husband and I paid $210 for a large bowl of Snickers tapioca made by my own mother-in-law. Did I need a $210 bowl of tapioca? Of course not. But we loved and cared about the needs of the people on the receiving end of that money. We had fun, handed over our hard-earned donation, and then shared that bowl of tapioca with the entire table.
That pie, trifle or bowl of Snickers tapioca represents community and shared values, and people showing up to work together to meet a need they collectively care about.
Before you (as a savvy fundraiser or communications professional) dismiss this as a charming, old-fashioned tradition, look at it more closely. Behind that pricey dessert is structure: a deeply understood and connected community, careful preparation, thoughtful leadership, and time. It is strategic, measured, and intentional.
But all of that structure exists to serve relationships, meet needs, and build a sense of community and shared work - not the other way around.
Collaborations of Contributing Partners > Fundraising Funnels
The future of fundraising does not belong to organizations that choose between organizational excellence and relationships. I believe strongly that in this world of a deep desire for the analog, while relying on the digital, it belongs to those who choose to create communities of belonging:
We need both. Data and connection. Rigour and meaning.
The strongest charities I spend time with are both deeply strategic and deeply relational. Intentionally growth-focused and intentionally missional.
It shouldn’t be a radical suggestion, but can I ask that we pause for a moment, and get back to the true business of charity: building collaborations of contributing partners? Real people, committed to bringing hope and justice to the most vulnerable, through true generosity.
How? Not by building the most sophisticated fundraising funnel, but by communicating your mission with absolute clarity, knowing exactly who you are for, identifying how you align, and inviting people into a valued, high-stewardship partnership to solve real-world problems.
A dashboard can help us make better decisions. Metrics can reveal patterns, highlight opportunities, and demonstrate responsible stewardship, but they cannot fully measure things like trust, belonging, or quiet moments when someone sees themself in a story and chooses to be part of something bigger.
The systems matter. The people matter. Let’s not sacrifice one for the other.
At Graf-Martin, we love acting as the strategic partner for leaders who want to build for the future without losing their soul. We speak the language of corporate efficiency, provide the board-ready data you need to prove your strategy, and help you push past legacy systems to build genuine momentum - because we are deeply committed to strengthening organizations committed to hope, generosity, and justice. Does that sound like you? Let us know how we can help!
"Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world; indeed, it's the only thing that ever has." — Margaret Mead
