A few months ago, Rev. Bill Golderer did what Golderer often does: He picked up the phone, called one of the many nonprofit leaders he has known through decades of community service, and asked him how he’s doing.
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The answer surprised him. “I’m doing much better,” the man told him, “now that I have a new morning routine. I drop off my little girl to school every morning, and then around the corner, there’s a really nice state park. I pull the car in, and I look at the trees, and then I just let myself cry until I can’t cry anymore. And then I drive in to work.”
“Wait, what?” asked Golderer, president/CEO of United Way of Southeastern Pennsylvania and New Jersey. (United Way is a supporter of The Citizen.)
“Well,” the man replied, “let’s start with the state budget not being passed [at the time, it was still being wrangled], and federal cuts that have resulted in layoffs, with more layoffs to come. I love my people, and I love that they will do anything for anyone, and they are being impacted by this, and there’s nothing I can do about it, and that makes me feel terrible.
“And then I’m planning a gala that I don’t even want to go to, and I have to smile and be happy about it. And if I don’t smile and be happy about it, and we don’t hit our numbers, I’m going to have to let more people go. And then when you take into account the wider world, and how that sits with me, about what kind of country I live in, I’m just having a hard time. So I cry most mornings, and then I can go in and face the team with a brave face.”
Even for a nonprofit leader who spends his days doing the hard and emotionally taxing work of caring for those in need, this is not normal. And Golderer realized he’d been hearing a version of this story from many folks throughout the region over the last year.
“During Covid, we felt like we’d been brought together, and now we feel alone again,” Golderer says. “When we come together, we feel depleted because we’re trying to put on a show.”
That’s why, along with his friend and former longtime Big Brothers Big Sisters Independence Region CEO Marcus Allen, Golderer launched what he’s calling The Lift, a night that will celebrate nonprofit leaders from around the area. Golderer brought the idea to Fitler Club, whose president, Jacob Smith, signed on to host the event for some 250 Philadelphia service providers. There’ll be live music led by gospel conductor J. Donald Dumpson; a conversation with Rev. Alyn Waller, pastor of Enon Tabernacle Church; and food, drinks and a chance to socialize with like-minded Philadelphians doing the hard work every day.
“There’s a very obscure Bible verse that’s important to me,” Golderer says, “which is about learning how to cultivate gratitude in every season — seasons of hardship and then seasons of joy. It’s almost impossible to do that by yourself. So we’re inviting people to be together, to think about our current circumstances, recognize how hard it is and recognize that we’re not alone.”
I caught up with Golderer to talk about The Lift, and what it means to support those who support the rest of us. This interview has been condensed and edited.
Why did you decide to organize the Lift now — and whom to invite?
People are in the dumps. I’m sure people who work in other sectors have reasons to be very unhappy, but this is for people who serve others. They are employers of dedicated staff. They’ve always had to do more with less, and they sign up to that willingly, but it’s gotten almost impossibly hard and so we just want to remind people that they’re not by themselves. This isn’t supposed to be a mourning session. There’s supposed to be joy here. Everybody’s suffering in their own way, but joy can be together.
I got on a call with Marcus and we started with our own rings of association — people we know, who are doing the right things, and need a boat. Then there are those who don’t necessarily do direct service, but are people from the funding community, from the business community, who are good actors in Philadelphia, and need to be recognized as such. I don’t want to get weird, but it’s kind of like what I imagine heaven to be like. You walk in, and you’re like, oh shit, you’re here? Awesome.
Your story about the man who cries before work everyday is heartbreaking. How are you getting through these trying times?
Pain has always been a part of the human condition. The suffering of my neighbor is very real in my life, and I hate when people suffer needlessly. If I believed that the world is as it appears — that the people who are seen as influential or powerful or important are actually those who are most important — then I would have lost my mind a long time ago. The powers and principles that stand now are not enduring, and they don’t have the last word. I believe in the Beatitudes. That is not “Blessed are the powerful, for they shall surely call the shots.” I’ve seen in breaking that notion a better world.
I also read Scripture and listen to Scripture every day, at length, and a lot of the prophets are on heavy rotation right now.
What do you hope people take away from this event on Tuesday night?
We’ve all been very busy since, like, Labor Day, and everyone’s really tired. On Thanksgiving, they just want to eat some turkey, maybe see their family and watch football. And that sounds delightful, but in any kind of celebration, there’s often a deeper level upon which to celebrate. And there’s something deeper and more necessary this Thanksgiving than maybe just turkey and football, like trying to find a way to help, to remind each other that there is reason to be grateful, even in the midst of deep adversity. I’m hoping people can feel that kind of duality of, yes, this shit is awful and also, I have reason to give thanks, because of the people around me, because others are thinking about me.
This is an expression, from me and Marcus, that these people have been on our mind, and I think being thought of — like when someone picks up the phone and says, I’ve been thinking about you — registers in a deep place, because to be on someone’s mind is to be loved.
That’s beautiful, thank you.
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