For the individual to recover, the group and the Fellowship must stick together.

      Not especially known as “joiners” in our drinking days, “We alcoholics see,” says Bill W., in the first appendix of the Big Book, “that we must work together and hang together, else most of us will finally die alone.”

      Warped by years of self-centeredness, this is difficult for many of us to grasp at first. “The concept of a ‘common welfare’ was totally alien to me,” writes Kathleen D. in this chapter’s story “A Thousand Angels.” “To be expected to put the needs of others in front of my own was almost laughable,” she writes. Yet, motivated by desperation, she reached out. “I made a decision to accept this Tradition the same way I accepted the truth of the First Step, not because I fully understood all the implications and recognized their validity, but because I was desperate and I believed these were the only things that could save me.”

      Crossing the threshold into AA brings a deep satisfaction for many of us, and the knowledge that at last, we belong.

      “I began to get a glimmer of the miraculous promises available to me by putting common welfare first,” says Ed C. of Bowling Green, Kentucky, in the article “Only Natural.” “Instead of feeling diminished by being only a small part, I began to feel like I’d found a home, a place where I belonged after a lifetime of isolation and being fatally unique.”

A Thousand Angels

      January 2014

      When I first got to AA, I did not have any understanding of what the Steps could do for me, or how critical the Traditions are for the life of the group. But I knew in my heart that I needed meetings desperately. I knew that I was living from meeting to meeting the same way I had lived from bottle to bottle.

      The First Tradition was a difficult concept for me. Having grown up in an alcoholic household, I learned never to trust anyone, never to let anyone see that I was scared, and never to let anything get in the way of what I wanted. Lying and stealing were what I did best (next to drinking), and I was secretly proud of my ability to manipulate and connive. The concept of a “common welfare” was totally alien to me, and to be expected to put the needs of others in front of my own was almost laughable. However, I was motivated by a desperation I can only describe as God-given, because without the certain knowledge that I was spiraling toward a very ugly death, I would never have been moved to accept those ideas. And I did accept them. I made a decision to accept this Tradition the same way I accepted the truth of the First Step, not because I fully understood all the implications and recognized their validity, but because I was desperate and I believed these were the only things that could save me.

      I understood that the First Step was my lifeline to this program, and the First Tradition was the lifeline for the group. I understood that my recovery depended on AA unity. I even began to understand that it was just as important to me that others recovered because, for the first time in my life, I realized that I needed other people.

      What I learned from the First Tradition changed the way I viewed the world and hence the way I interacted with others. Since this was the first time I looked at other people as important, and not as enemies, I had to learn to listen to them. This was pretty difficult for someone like me. But as I got better at it, I was surprised to learn that there were an awful lot of smart, funny, nice people around. And people started to talk to me, and not just to say, “You keep coming, honey.”

      I learned to see the bigger picture, meaning AA beyond the groups I attended. I began to see the global power of AA, and I was able to trust AA to be my Higher Power. I have heard it said at meetings that when God sees the tiniest spark of willingness in your heart, he sends a thousand angels rushing to your side. Being able to accept AA as my Higher Power was that tiny spark of willingness, which opened my heart to hope. For me, this was the first gift of Tradition One. I had hope that this precious Fellowship would endure and that I could endure with it.

      Another gift was the ability to work alongside others, whether it was to make coffee, reach out to a newcomer, or be a parent and a partner. (Truth be told, the parent and partner part was a long, slow process.) It didn’t happen overnight, but I came to realize that I was having conversations with people during the break or while doing service. For the very first time in my life I knew the joy of being one among many, a worker among workers. For the very first time in my life I belonged somewhere, and it was in AA. I learned that putting AA ahead of myself didn’t mean that I was “less than,” it meant that I was part of. My greatest hope is that that never changes, and my greatest joy is that I know it never has to.

      Kathleen D.

      Shirley, New York

If There Was No Group …

      January 1978

      (From Dear Grapevine)

      After a recent discussion meeting in which everyone shared the experience of using the AA principles in all their affairs, what came to my mind was the importance of Tradition One: “Our common welfare should come first; personal recovery depends upon A.A. unity.”

      Without the group, where would I be today? Would I be sober and happy? What if there had not been a group when my wife was searching for help for me, and for herself? What about the still-suffering alcoholic?

      At first, I did not understand Tradition One, but today I can see how important it is to AA as a whole. Thank God for instilling this principle in our early members, and I hope I will always try to practice this Tradition.

      R. T.

      Massena, New York

The Lifeboat

      January 1994

      I went to a meeting last week that taught me the importance of the First Tradition. Some time ago this group had decided to discuss one Step every month. They were on the Tenth Step that month, and I was looking forward to hearing everyone’s experience, strength, and hope.

      The chairperson started the meeting in the usual way, but then introduced his own topic. I asked him about the group’s decision to discuss a Step every month. He said he knew about that, but he wanted to talk about something else. The rest of the people in the meeting didn’t seem to care, and it wasn’t my home group, so I didn't feel in a position to argue. The chairperson went on to talk about a relative who had checked into a treatment center. As I sat there pouting, I began to think about Bill W.'s analogy in Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions. He said that the AA group is like a lifeboat. If everyone in the lifeboat is to survive, then everyone needs to stick together. I carried the analogy further. If a group follows the past experiences of our Fellowship (the Steps and the Traditions), it will be following in the wake of other boats. It will have a smoother ride.

      The chairperson of that meeting was steering the boat. When he introduced his own topic, it was as if he took out a chainsaw and cut off his portion of the boat. He set the boat adrift. The next person talked about her concern for the way her daughter-in-law was raising the grandchildren. She took out another chainsaw and cut off her portion of the boat. The boat continued to break up as people brought up topics that had little to do with the common welfare of the group. As a group, they not only lost their ability to stay afloat, but they also lost their effectiveness in pulling in others who were still suffering.

      After the meeting, I talked with a lady who had been sober and coming to meetings for nine months, but was about to check herself into an outpatient treatment program. Apparently she wasn’t getting what she needed to stay sober in Alcoholics Anonymous.

      My home