I’m very protective of my home group for the same reason that most alcoholics are: if the group doesn’t survive, neither will I. A couple of months ago at a business meeting, my home group had a heated discussion over whether or not to say the Lord’s Prayer at the end of our group’s meetings. Saying it certainly seems to contradict AA’s claim to have no affiliations with any sect or denomination. Furthermore, as a skittish newcomer, I remember being very uncomfortable sitting in a church basement saying a prayer that’s a prominent part of Christian liturgy.
But my sponsor said, “Get over it.” And I have to admit, it has never hurt me to say a prayer, especially one conceived by a loving teacher, teaching me to praise God’s name, to wish for God’s will to be done, and to remind myself I will be forgiven only to the degree that I forgive others.
The Lord’s Prayer certainly feels paternalistic. (So, does that mean we should be saying the Hail Mary instead?) The Serenity Prayer may feel less sectarian, but it stems from religion, too. So in that case, rather than wishing to shut the door on our past, maybe we should acknowledge AA’s debt to the Oxford Movement, Reverend Shoemaker, Father Dowling, and Sister Ignatia, just to name a few.
Have I managed to offend you yet? To get your juices going? Because that’s what happened at our business meeting. We all got churned up and disagreeable. And afterward, there was a hangover, a lingering air of resentment. Now when we form a circle and join hands at the end of our regular meeting, we all feel the tension. A moment that used to exemplify our unity now underscores our differences.
The idea that issues and resentments generated in a business meeting are spilling over into the “real” meeting troubles me. I suppose without business meetings, resentments might smolder anyway, but I think we fanned the fire. I got the feeling that things were just going too smoothly for us drama-loving alcoholics, so we latched onto something controversial to add a little excitement to the proceedings.
To the extent that we were just “stirring the pot,” we were following a longstanding tradition in AA. But not the Traditions of Alcoholics Anonymous. One Tradition calls for us to “practice a genuine humility” and to silence “the clamor of desires and ambitions whenever these could damage the group.” For me, that clamor is the need to comment on everything, to throw in my two cents so you’ll know just how smart I am. It’s the urge to jump in and mix it up as if a business meeting were a barroom brawl. I need to practice some restraint, to emulate the example of the elder statesman in Tradition Two who “is willing to sit quietly on the sidelines patiently awaiting developments.”
My friend G. had an interesting suggestion: why not hold our business meetings standing up? I know I’d pontificate less if I had to stand more. How often have I told myself, If I have to sit through this meeting, then I should at least get to air my point of view, even if it’s already been expressed by several others. Maybe our feet are better judges of when we’ve said enough than our minds.
And if business meetings were shorter and to the point, maybe more people would get involved. Since our group conscience is how the loving God expresses himself to us, the more conscience, the more God, right? Let the primary purpose of a business meeting be to make sure the rent is paid, the key positions are filled, and there’s enough literature and sponsorship available to help the newcomer. Keep it simple. Tradition Nine says, “Alcoholics Anonymous needs the least possible organization.” Save the controversy for a letter to Grapevine. Our “meeting in print” has shown for over 50 years that it can handle controversy. It even thrives on it.
Of course, I should have a bit more faith in my group’s ability to weather contentious business meetings. What doesn’t kill us makes us stronger. In which case, I have just made much ado about nothing. I probably should have written this standing up.
J. W.
Maplewood, New Jersey
Trusted Servants
March 1995
(From Dear Grapevine)
Without sounding like a bleeding deacon myself, I think many people in AA would benefit from reading and examining Tradition Two. On examining this Tradition, I thought of people in AA who try to push their dogma on the rest of us and on our groups and meetings. When one person wants the group or meeting to do it his (or her) way only, that is when Tradition Two comes in, because it is the group conscience that should prevail at our business meetings and meetings in general.
Unfortunately for us, some people in AA think God put them on earth to tell the rest of us what they think we ought to do with our lives, whether we like it or not. But we don’t have to do anything we don’t want to do. To me, that is the beauty of Tradition Two, because it protects us from people like that! I think the Traditions have kept AA together for the last 50 plus years, and they will keep us together for the long run.
So, remember the Second Tradition when someone is trying to enlighten you against your wishes. You don’t have to do it and neither does the group.
Charlie W.
Tucson, Arizona
Our Way, Not My Way
February 2008
When I was drinking, I didn’t want anyone telling me what to do, mostly because I was afraid they’d tell me to stop drinking. Getting sober has required letting someone tell me what to do, not as a demand, but as a life-or-death suggestion (like taking a parachute along when you jump from an airplane). When first humbled by my alcoholism, I found it easy to follow instructions. As a result, I developed a lot of habits that are good for maintaining my sobriety, such as going to meetings, reading the literature, doing service work, etc. But as time marched on, I found some new suggestions harder to swallow. I also found myself with a bit of what I call sober pride, which is the belief that I know about AA and staying sober since I have such-and-such time away from my last drink. It’s logical. If I have time, I must be doing something right. If I’m doing something right, then I should know what that is. Maybe I know what’s best for me now. Maybe I even know what’s best for you.
My home group has a nice way of taking its inventory on a regular basis. Every month, we get together and ask ourselves two simple questions: “Are we really serving the newcomers?” And, “Are we really following the Traditions?” This has occasionally led to some self-congratulations on how well we have been doing. At other times, it has led to divisive discussions that last through several months of group conscience meetings. One month, I brought up an observation about the group’s diversity. It seemed that fewer and fewer women were staying in our group. I appreciate the greatest variety of experience, including the female point of view, on staying sober and living life one day at a time. What I didn’t expect was that the conclusion drawn by the group as to why this was happening and what to do about it would feel like a major slap in my face.
The group concluded that women weren’t staying in our meeting because of the foul language bandied about among the men. This seemed ironic to me, since one of our worst offenders had, in fact, been a woman. Nevertheless, the group decided to add to our meeting’s opening statement a request that people please use polite language (whatever that meant).
I was outraged. To me, this smacked of censorship. I was also afraid that if we sanitized the meeting too much, newcomers might feel out of place and might not want to come back. I was mostly livid because it meant that I was going to have to change my behavior, when what I really wanted to change was all those people who voted for the proposal.
I had a choice to make. Either I could
