A friend of mine passed away this week. I don’t know if friend is the right word. He was a few years older. We had not seen or even spoken to one another in at least ten years. We were not in the same circles at all, but he was a member of one of my earliest and most important tribes. His passing, while grieved on many levels, I’m sure, for me triggered a reminiscing about a mourning of the loss of tribes in my life. He was a tribal member that intentionally seemed to reach out to me, a former tribesman, with words of affirmation.
God made us to be inherently social creatures. One of His earliest pronouncements on creation was, “It is not good for man to be alone.” He gave us life-partners and then He, and we, very quickly organized us into small, connected groups that provided protection, support, assistance, and maybe above all, identity and intimacy. What started as the family group of Jacob and his sons, turned into the twelve tribes of Israel, all with their unique stories, purposes, promises, and perspectives. Even the introduction of Jesus included His tribe. “So Joseph, too, went up from the city of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to the city of Bethlehem, because he belonged to the house and line of David.” Our tribes tell us where we came from, who we are connected to, what our values and vocations have been, and where our we are rooted and grounded. It is our tribes that let us know what city we will want to go back to at those important times in life.
At its core, a tribe serves as a fundamental source of belonging and emotional security. One of the greatest human fears is social exclusion, which leads to feelings of isolation and loneliness. Tribes offer a protective space where individuals feel seen, heard, and valued. In these groups, people develop a shared language of values, symbols, and rituals that reinforce bonds and create a deep sense of solidarity. Our tribes tell us we matter and we can make a difference.
Except in a few rare cultures, the Jewish people referenced above and perhaps Native Americans, most of us have lost touch with any sense of ethnic tribalism. The need to be “a part” is no less however, so we have tribes of extended family, high school classmates, collegiate fraternities and sororities, professional peer groups, denominations and church affiliations. Those groups mean much to us because we have shared experiences, commonly understood words, and for the most part, agreed upon goals. Who hasn’t known the joy of meeting a fellow, former Boy Scout, that you have never known, in a crowded mall and almost immediately falling into tales of earned merit badges and camping trips? Or what about traveling to a foreign company, only to see someone with your college baseball cap on, and feeling a comfort and safety in the knowledge that a fellow tribesman was on the same continent with you? Someone who knows what Royal Rangers means, or played on the same basketball court, or grew up attending the same summer camps, even in different decades, ushers us into a place of emotional familiarity.
Beyond emotional security, tribes offer a sense of identity. In a world where individuals are bombarded with messages about who they should be, belonging to a tribe gives people a sense of self, rooted in something larger. One’s tribe often reflects key aspects of identity—belief systems, passions, and mores. Through their tribes, individuals make sense of their place in the world and understand how they fit into the larger social fabric.
And so my friend, my fellow tribesman passed away this week and I began to reflect on the sense of isolation I often feel at the loss my tribes. We can lose them. Life is fluid, and as people evolve, so do their needs and priorities. Sometimes, individuals simply grow apart from their tribes. It takes work to remain in a tribe. It is often not easy or comfortable to respond to invitations, attend reunions, take time out for homecomings, all necessary to remaining tribal.
We can also be ostracized from our tribes, sometimes not of our own doing, and sometimes wells deserved. Either way, the loss of the tribe is great, and in the long run, maybe the greater consequence of the action or attitude that preceded it. I have worked with Amish and Mennonite people who have been shunned for offenses real and imagined. Many times, long after the emotional and relational scars are healed on every other count, the loss of the tribe is still the heaviest weight they bear.
Perhaps we have convinced ourselves we no longer have a need for the tribe. In our fast-paced, highly mobile, digitally “pseudo-connected” age we have substituted quantity for quality in relationships, and the tribe has given way to tyranny of image. We are too caught up in how we look to other people to focus on being vulnerable and transparent with them. We feel it is more important to rise to the next level of social strata than to remain involved with the old neighborhood gang. We exchange one long-standing, intimate tribe for a newer, less confining and less defining group.
But it feels to me, and these are personal observations rather than empirical statements of fact, that the original tribes, the tribes of origin so to speak, are difficult if not impossible to replace. I am grateful for new tribes. I have gained much by being more well rounded and more broadly connected to a diverse group of tribes. But there are some things that can never be replaced when we lose an earlier tribe. Three things some to mind:
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There is knowing and being known. My college roommate grew up in South Carolina with me. We attended the same church events, snuck out of the same youth camps, dated and were dumped by the same girls. We did not have to tell each other our stories. We lived them. Time and distance and new tribal allegiances made our connection razor thin if not nonexistent. I have new tribes and new friends, but as I have aged I miss the fact that there are people in my tribe who knew me before my wife and children knew me.
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There is a sense of place. In the tribes of origin we grew into, or were assigned our roles and positions. We knew intuitively where we fit in the structure of the tribe. He is the tribal clown, the funniest guy at the table. She is the keeper of the records, knowing every tribal member that has moved, died, or has fallen off the books. These are not constraining roles. We don’t feel obligated to occupy these places. They are rather, comfortable spots in which we find a real sense of belonging and purpose. In the new, upwardly mobile tribes, I find myself constantly vying for the next empty seat at the table.
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Finally, there is family tree in the tribes of origin that are not present in our more modern tribes. Moody was the state youth leader of my early tribe. I made my rite of passage into the tribe under his teaching. I moved up the ranks of “tribemanship” under his tutelage. He was the first person I talked to when it came time to start my own tribal walk. In the tribe of origin you remember the coach, or the grandfather, or the scout leader, that opened the doors to the tribe for you. And you know the initiator for your fellow tribesman. That produces an intimacy that can’t be found in the tribes we joined for convenience.
My friend passed away this week and with his passing I was reminded of the passing of an important tribe for me. As with any passing, we recognize the loss, mourn the appropriate period of time. and then move on in life, knowing it will never be the same but it will be. I am grateful for new tribes. I am especially grateful for the greater tribes, fans of The Ohio State University, brothers of the order of fishermen, members of Amazon Prime, people in the Body of Christ. Those mega tribes fill a void, but I shall forever be thankful for, and miss being in, the smaller tribes of origin.
Now, every sermon needs to have a point, or three points if you come from a certain tribe so here they are:
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If you are young, or not so young, and still in some of your original tribes, cherish them. Work at them. Stay in them.
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If you are old, or not so old, and no longer in your tribes of origin, make peace with them and with that, and strive to make your current tribe better.
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And, (and I know this sounds self-serving🙂 ) if you are in a tribe, look around at the empty seats of those who were once tribal with you and call them from time to time with a word of affirmation.
Note: Every Monday I post a brief video, MondayMatters. This Monday will be a cute, fun video that touches on a little of the same topic. Love to see you there. @cmichaelcourtney on YouTube
Perfect timing for what I have been thinking about this past week
Good writing and very true. Thank you!
Awesome! Thank you.
Excellent article!
I agree, family does matter and the younger people don’t understand that they need to stay close to their families. Thanks.
Thank you.
Great viewpoint as I prepare for a family reunion. Tools picked up at intensive years ago so being used.
Thank you, Linda and thank you for the words about the Intensive.
Your letter has come to me at the most perfect timing. I never thought to call or think of each group of people as “tribes”, but I like it!
Thank you, Janice.
Excellent reflection!! As I reached my 75th year, I realize my tribes are much smaller. But how I look forward to Heaven’s tribe!!
Me too, Ruth. Thank you.