Brotherhood

On November 12, 2024, future Hall of Famer Tom Brady joined Harvard Business School professor Nitin Nohria at a Fortune Magazine symposium to discuss principles of success from his football career that translate to the business world.

Brady emphasized the importance of setting a high standard for work ethic and teamwork. He shared, “I would get in the weight room at 6:30 in the morning. Guys would walk in at 6:45, thinking they were early since the first meeting was at 8:00. I’d joke, ‘Good afternoon!’ The next day, they’d show up at 6:30, but I’d be there at 6:15. By the end, we had a culture where everyone came early and stayed late. We weren’t just punching the clock; we were pushing each other to succeed.”

Brady also highlighted the collective nature of achievement, both in sports and business. “When you succeed, there’s enough credit to go around for everybody. The greatest joy, even as a seven-time Super Bowl champ, is knowing I have thousands of friends and teammates I gave everything for. We played in all conditions, lost and celebrated together. The joy of life was sharing those moments with others.”

He reflected on the deep bonds formed through teamwork: “I didn’t have a brother growing up, but now I feel like I have thousands-from all over the country, all backgrounds. We loved each other and what we were trying to accomplish.”

Brady concluded by encouraging business leaders to find colleagues they love working with and to push each other beyond comfort zones. “It’s okay to feel uncomfortable. That’s how we grow. Unless we stress ourselves-our minds and bodies-we don’t grow.”

You can watch the video here (time stamp 18:38-20:17)

Lew Wilcox and Bobby Rohrbach Jr. met in the summer of 1962, riding their bikes together in a small southern Ohio town.

These days, every Saturday, one picks the other up and they go out for breakfast, run errands, and talk about families, home repairs and how the world is changing. If one can’t remember a place or name, the other can fill in because they so often lived the same story. They didn’t outgrow the other or leave the other behind and still live within about five miles of their childhood homes. “I have a lot of friends but there’s something special about our friendship,” says Lew, 75, of his friend, Bobby, 73.

Yet as important as they are, people have fewer close friendships than they once did. Forty-percent of Americans say they don’t have a best friend at all, up from 25% in 1990. The best-friend gap is more pronounced for men, who typically have fewer close friends than women do. The percentage of men without any close friends jumped fivefold to 15% in 2021 from 3% in 1990, according to the May 2021 American Perspectives Survey.

Michael Addis, director of the Research Group on Men’s Well-Being, says, “We were taught for generations to focus on work, family, and productivity. Don’t share what is really going on inside with other men.”

Time together deepens bonds. Becoming a best friend takes 300 hours of togetherness, one study reported. Those fortunate enough to have friends through the decades develop a common history that fresh friendships often don’t.

A recent news article featured the story of three restaurant-owning brothers in India who constantly compete and bicker for business.

B. Vivekanandhan, the 51-year-old owner of a popular restaurant called Moonrakers, competes fiercely for customers in this southern Indian holiday town. So fiercely, in fact, that fists have flown. His chief foes are his own flesh-and-blood. His older brother operates a seafood joint called Moonwalkers right across the street. Just down the same lane, his younger brother runs Moonrocks. The menus are nearly identical.

At one time, all three brothers and their families would sit down for dinner. The three brothers behind Moonrakers agree it began as a true family endeavor. No more. One of the brothers said, “When money comes, comes, comes, love goes away.”

A couple of times in 2020, two of the brothers brawled with each other in the street in front of befuddled customers. “Sometimes it’s like a street fight,” one brother said. “People say, ‘This is a complicated family. We just came down to eat.’”

It’s all proving baffling to tourists, who frequently are stopped on the street by two of the brothers who were giving pitches for their rival restaurants. One resident said she wanted to eat at the original Moonrakers, but was bewildered by the competing eateries. Her husband, who swore he had dined at Moonrakers years ago, was even more confused.

Possible Preaching Angle:

The church looks just as petty and ridiculous when we don’t walk in unity in Christ.

Men have fewer friends than women and are at a greater risk of isolation. The gap has widened in recent years. A 2021 report identified a male “friendship recession,” with 15% of men saying they have no close friends, up from 3% in 1990.

The researcher of this study concluded that in 1990, nearly half of young men reported that when facing a personal problem, they would reach out first to their friends. Today, only 22% of young men lean on their friends in tough times.

In his novel Of Mice and Men, John Steinbeck’s character Crooks pinpoints why this matters so much to men. At one point in the novel Crooks tells another man, “A guy needs somebody … To be near him. A guy goes nuts if he ain’t got nobody … I tell ya a guy gets too lonely an’ he gets sick.”

Across the world, men are learning that the easiest way to cure a bout of social isolation is not by talking face-to-face, but shoulder-to-shoulder.

When Phillip Jackson moved back to England from Australia, he was 67, and immediately felt like a stray dog in his native town of Barnsley. He realized that many of those in town at his age had their own problems with social isolation. So, he launched a Barnsley UK chapter of an Australian community movement called “Men’s Shed,” which has expanded across the world, and includes more than 50,000 men.

Capitalizing on most men’s appreciation of woodworking, a Men’s Shed is essentially a support group for men with not enough friends or too much time on their hands. The original concept was to get together and make things out of wood. But in reality, it’s about plugging into the social fabric of a community, whether that’s building a park bench, or listening to the problems someone is going through in their marriage.

Jackson said, “It’s like the shed at the bottom of your garden. But all your friends are there. It’s a break from people’s weekly routines. It gets them out and talking to similar people.” 70-year-old Mike Jenn is a member of a United States Men’s Shed. He said, “We have this kind of male pride thing. I can look after myself. I don’t need to talk to anyone, and it’s a complete fallacy. Not communicating helps to kill us.”

The age range of “Shedders” as Jackson calls them, tends to vary from 22 to 87, which makes sense because anyone can feel lonely at times. He adds that the members come from all walks of life—ex-coalminers to shopkeepers.

Not only can Men’s Sheds be a great place for learning and laughing, they can literally save lives, as loneliness has been shown to shave years off of one’s life, elderly or young.

John Mahshie said he felt “alone and isolated” after leaving the Air Force in 2008, yet “sucked it up and pressed on.” He knew other veterans were struggling with their own issues but might not know how to reach out for help. So, in 2013 he decided to plant fruit trees, berry bushes, herbs, and flowers on nine acres of land he owned in Hendersonville, North Carolina. With that, the Veterans Healing Farm was born.

There are bunkhouses on the property for vets to stay in. Since some of the vets have been struggling with unemployment, depression, or homelessness, they can gather together amid the woodpeckers and the bees and "continue their military mission of service before self.”

Mahshie says,

In civilian life, relationships form and evolve at a different pace. Veterans feel the difference when they get out of the service. Here, veterans learn that they can trust other people and that they are valued. The acts of growing and harvesting help them form friendships with people who share the same mission. It's so gratifying to see these relationships form.

In his documentary titled Light On Earth, David Attenborough tells of an unbelievable experience of the S.S. Lima. On January 25, 1995, as this British Merchant vessel sailed the waters of the northwestern Indian Ocean, the seas beneath them began to glow.

On a clear moonless night, while 150 miles east of the Somalian coast, a whitish glow was observed on the horizon. And after fifteen minutes of steaming the ship was completely surrounded by a sea of milky white color with a fairly uniform luminescence. It appeared as though the ship was sailing over a field of snow or gliding over the clouds.

While stories of glowing seas have been a part of maritime folklore since the 1700’s, they have never been scientifically confirmed. But a group of scientists had an ingenious idea. Using a Defense Meteorological Satellite, Dr. Stephen Haddack and his team discovered a large luminescent area. Roughly the size of Connecticut (110 miles long), the phenomenon was identified in the exact area where the captain had reported his ship that night. Marine biologists discovered that the glowing sea was caused by massive swarms of bioluminescent bacteria feeding on large populations of algae.

Imagine that for a moment. Bacteria are microscopic. But when they congregate together, these tiny creatures, that cannot even be seen by the naked eye, can suddenly radiate their light 600 miles into orbit.

Possible Preaching Angle:

There is no place our light cannot reach if together we will let it shine before a searching humanity.

Amy Chua's book Political Tribes tells the story of Carl Marlantes, a marine Lieutenant who served in Vietnam, who observed how the military creates unity among diverse soldiers. He recalls being on the remote jungle hilltop in Vietnam in 1968 and being asked by Ray Del Gato, "an 18-year-old Hispanic kid from Texas," if he wanted to try a tamale from a care package that Ray's mother had sent him. Marlantes tried the tamale but complained that it was very tough to eat. "Lieutenant," Ray finally said. "You take the corn husk off."

Years later Marlantes reflected on how focusing on a common mission can bring different people together:

I was from a small town on the Oregon coast. I'd heard of tamales, but I've never seen one. Until I joined my company of Marines in Vietnam, I'd never even talked to a Mexican. I saw how [the military] brought together young men from diverse racial and ethnic backgrounds and forced them to trust one another with their lives … If I was pinned down by enemy fire and I needed an M-79 man, I'd scream for Thompson, because he was the best. I didn't even think about what color Thompson was. … White guys had to listen to soul music and black guys had to listen to country music. We didn't fear one another. And the experience stuck with us. Hundreds of thousands of young men came home from Vietnam with different ideas about race – some for the worse, but most for the better. Racism wasn't solved in Vietnam, but I believe it was where our country finally learned that it just might be possible for us all to get along.

The New York Times featured an article exploring our current confusion about friendship. "Ask people to define friendship—even [experts who research friendship]—and you'll get an uncomfortable silence followed by "er" or "um."

"Friendship is difficult to describe," said Alexander Nehamas, a professor of philosophy at Princeton, who in his book, "On Friendship," spends almost 300 pages trying to do just that. "It's easier to say what friendship is not and, foremost, it is not instrumental." It is not a means to obtain higher status, wrangle an invitation to someone's vacation home, or simply escape your own boredom. Rather, Mr. Nehamas said, friendship is more like beauty or art, which … is "appreciated for its own sake."

Ronald Sharp, a professor who teaches a course on the literature of friendship added, "It's not about what someone can do for you, it's who and what the two of you become in each other's presence … The notion of doing nothing but spending time in each other's company has, in a way, become a lost art. People are so eager to maximize efficiency of relationships that they have lost touch with what it is to be a friend."

American culture—along with many more reserved European nations—is not comfortable with simple touch between men. While many global cultures express male/male friendship with embrace, linking arms, and even holding hands or a kiss on the cheek, the U.S. and likeminded cultures get nervous at anything much more than a handshake. But what does that physical isolation do to us?

A blog post from The Good Men Project asks, "… [W]here does this leave men? Physically and emotionally isolated. Cut off from the deeply human physical contact that is proven to reduce stress, encourage self-esteem and create community. Instead, we walk in the vast crowds of our cities alone in a desert of disconnection. Starving for physical connection." It's easy to forget the healing, grounding power of physical touch. Let's work to reclaim kind, appropriate, affectionate touch in our communities.

A lot has been said about the little brotherhood of hobbits tasked with saving Middle Earth in The Lord of The Rings trilogy by J.R.R. Tolkien. Much of the focus has often been placed on Frodo and Sam. Throughout the story, Frodo understands the dangers they will face. On multiple occasions, he actually attempts to strike out on his own in order to protect his friends. But the devotion of his good friend, Sam, won't be shaken. If you've read the books or watched the movies, it's easy to see why the relationship between these two captures our imaginations and moves us in profound ways.

There are a number of moments shared between Sam and Frodo that paint a touching picture of Christian community. During one of Frodo's attempts to sneak away on a boat to protect his friends from the dangers of the mission, Sam nearly drowns to catch him. And who can forget the image of Sam holding Frodo in his arms when his friend collapses from the burden of the ring that he carries.

However, Frodo and Sam are only half of the little community of Hobbits sent on this task. Why does so much of our focus fall on Sam and Frodo? After being introduced to the other two hobbits, Merry and Pippin, it's easy to see why.

When Frodo and Sam embrace the mission at hand and prepare to leave the safety of their home, Merry and Pippin come crashing—literally—onto the scene. They stumble out of a cornfield, clearly running from some kind of shenanigan. A pitchfork-wielding farmer isn't far behind, shouting at them through the corn. Merry says, "I don't know why he's so upset—it's only a couple of carrots." Without missing a beat, Pippin continues: "And some cabbages. And those three bags of potatoes that we lifted last week. And then the mushrooms the week before."

"Yes, Pippin," Merry says, "my point is, he's clearly overreacting."

Merry and Pippin aren't exactly poster boys for a world-saving campaign. In fact, their very presence seems only to complicate things. Yet if you know the story well, these two misfits play an important role in the completion of Frodo's quest. And, along the way, we witness the transformation that each of these characters experience as they journey together.

All four members of the little brotherhood of hobbits show us that Christian community has a purpose. God has entrusted us with a mission, and we'll find that he has surrounded us with the unlikeliest of partners for the journey. Instead of ignoring our Merry's, instead of brushing aside the Pippin's we know, we need to embrace them, recognizing and validating the important role they have to play in our community and its mission.

In an article for ChristianityToday.com entitled "Our Divine Distortion," Christian songwriter Carolyn Arends shared a personal story that shows how easy it is to view friends as enemies when we are racked by shame or guilt—a dangerous trait that can have an impact on how we view God. She writes:

When I found a brand new lap-top for half price on eBay, I told my friend and musical colleague Spencer about my bargain of a find. He was worried: "Usually when something's too good to be true …"

"I know," I replied impatiently, "but the seller has a 100 percent approval rating."

"Be careful," warned Spencer.

"Of course," I assured him, annoyed. I wasn't born yesterday.

I sent the seller $1,300 and discovered in very short, sickening order that I had fallen prey to a classic scam. A fraudster had hacked someone's eBay identity in order to relieve easy marks like me of our money.

I felt [like a] fool—and didn't want to tell Spencer. The next time I saw his number on my caller ID, I didn't answer. I could just imagine his "I told you so."

Soon, I was avoiding Spencer completely. And I started to resent him. Why did he have to be so judgmental? Why couldn't he be on my side? Why was I ever friends with that jerk?

Eventually, we had to fly together to perform at a concert. "Whatever happened with that computer thing?" he asked an hour into the flight. Cornered, I finally confessed my foolishness, dreading the inevitable response. But as soon as I told Spencer about my mistake, a strange thing happened. The enemy I had turned him into evaporated. Spencer turned into Spencer again, my teasing but deeply empathetic buddy.

As embarrassed as I was by my eBay error, I felt even dumber about the way I had allowed my shame to distort my perception of a best friend. If my hand had not been forced, I would have remained estranged from him indefinitely.

I've always considered myself perceptive, but the longer I live, the more I discover my susceptibility to misinterpretation. This is true of the way I view my friends, truer of the way I see my enemies, and perhaps truest of the way I perceive God.

In a New York Times magazine article, Hal Niedzviecki reflected on social media sites—specifically, Facebook. Soon after starting a Facebook account, Niedzviecki had accumulated about 700 on-line "friends." In his own words, he was "absurdly proud of how many cyberpals, connections, acquaintances, and even strangers I'd managed to sign up." But he went on to point out that due to a 2-year-old at home, his "workaholic irritability," even his love of being left alone, he had fewer in-the-flesh friends to hang out with than he'd ever had before. So he decided to have a Facebook party to push his virtual friends into actual friends.

Niedzviecki invited all 700 of his "friends" to a local bar for a party. People could respond to one of three options: "Attending," "Maybe Attending" and "Not Attending." Fifteen said they would be there, and sixty said they might be there. He guessed somewhere around 20 would show up.

He writes about what happened next: "On the evening in question, I took a shower. I shaved. I splashed on my tingly man perfume. I put on new pants and a favorite shirt. Brimming with optimism, I headed over to the neighborhood watering hole and waited. And waited. And waited. Eventually, one person showed up."

And the one woman who showed up to meet Niedzviecki? He didn't know her. She was a friend of a friend. They ended up making small talk and then she left.

Hal waited till midnight but no one else showed up. So, he ordered a beer and sulked. He concludes his article with these words: "Seven hundred friends, and I was drinking alone."

In 1937, a researcher at Harvard University began a study (originally named The Harvard Study of Adult Development) on what factors contribute to human well-being and happiness. The research team selected 268 male Harvard students who seemed healthy and well adjusted to be part of what is called a longitudinal study, which means that the researchers would study the lives of these men not just at one point in time, but rather over a period of time. In this case, the period of time in what is now called the Grant study has been extraordinary: 72 years. With 72 years of perspective, the Grant study gives a comprehensive viewpoint on what has affected the level of health and happiness of men over a lifetime.

The Grant study has tracked an array of factors, including standard measurable items like physical exercise, cholesterol levels, marital status, the use of alcohol, smoking, education levels, and weight, but also more subjective psychological factors such as how a person employs defense mechanisms to deal with the challenges of life.

Over the period of 72 years, several men have directed the research. For the last 42 years, the director has been psychiatrist George Vaillant. In 2008 someone asked Dr. Vaillant what he had learned about human health and happiness from his years of poring over the data on these 268 men. You would expect a complex answer from a Harvard social scientist, but his secret to happiness was breathtakingly simple: "The only thing that really matters in life are your relationships to other people."

What we see, and like to see, is cure and change. But what we do not see and do not want to see is care: the participation in the pain, the solidarity in the suffering, the sharing in the experience of brokenness. And still, cure without care is as dehumanizing as a gift given with a cold heart.

Acclaimed newsman Walter Cronkite hosts PBS's 2003 documentary Heroes of World War II, a look at the many American military officers who won the second great war through dedication, sacrifice, and bravery. In this scene Cronkite describes the battle Americans and Germans fought over territory near Bastogne, France.

"The U.S. forces in Bastogne were now surrounded by the Germans," Cronkite says in voiceover narration. "But they held on."

Various archival war scenes are shown, but there is nothing bloody or objectionable. Many shots are close-ups of American soldiers.

Major Richard Winters, 101st Airborne, U.S. Army, comments: "We were seeing men break down due to mental strain and frostbite. Roughly 30 percent of the casualties at Bastogne were frostbite."

Cronkite continues to narrate as more scenes of soldiers are shown: "The 101st defended Bastogne with dogged determination, even while supplies dwindled, munitions ran low, and morale began to slip."

Major Winters takes over the narration from Cronkite: "The Germans were just a few miles from their home territory, so they had plenty of ammunition. And they're shelling the heck out of you. And this is going on and on. So you're not sure how long you'll be around. But you're not leaving until it's done!"

More scenes are shown of warfare as Cronkite says: "On December 23, the skies cleared enough to supply badly needed supplies and ammunition to battered U.S. troops."

Footage is shown of military airplanes dropping parachuted supplies.

Major Winters continues: "A man who is in a unit like—we'll say Company E—they take a lot of pride in [sticking close to each other]. They do not want to let their friends down. They want to do their part. And that's beautiful. That bonding, that friendship—you have to see it, you have to live through it to appreciate the strength of it."

Various scenes of soldiers helping wounded soldiers are shown. Again, nothing bloody or objectionable is shown.

"And that's what we had," Winters continues. "That's where we got the strength to go through it again and again. You're not going to drop out because your friends are there. You're going to stay there. Cold? Well, if you can take it, I can take it!"

Soldiers marching through a winter storm in a forest are shown.

"It's the bonding of men. It keeps them together," Winter says.

As the images of soldiers linger, Cronkite concludes: "And it was this bonding of brothers in combat that gave the men the strength to continue."

We Were Soldiers chronicles the true story of the first American battle in Vietnam during the 1960s. Although the battle for civil rights waged on back in the United States, black and white fought together on the battlefield.

In this scene, Colonel Moore (Mel Gibson) and Sergeant Plumley (Sam Elliott) are training a group of young lieutenants and their men for the battle ahead. After an intense hike in full army gear in the hot and humid mid-summer weather, the soldiers stop for a rest. They are tired, sweaty, and sore.

Second Lieutenant Jack Geogehegan (Chris Klein) notices the grimace on Private First Class Willie Godboldt's face caused by his badly blistered feet.

The young Lieutenant says, "Godboldt, take your boots off. Everyone, take your boots off, your socks too."

Then the Lieutenant squats down next to Godboldt, an African American private, and holds up his bloody, blistered feet for closer inspection.

"I want you to draw fresh socks from supply," the Lieutenant orders, "and keep your feet dusted with powder."

He pats the private on the knee, then says to the rest of the company, "Everyone check each other's feet like Godboldt and me."

Standing at a distance, Colonel Moore witnesses the scene. He turns to his Sergeant and says, "Now, that man's a leader."

"Yes, sir," Sergeant Plumley replies.

Lieutenant Geogehegan models servant-leadership, later giving his life in an attempt to rescue a wounded soldier.

Warning: there is profanity right before the clip begins

Content: Rated R for war violence and language

Elapsed Time: 00:18:07 to 00:19:22

Michael Phelps had already won five gold medals in the 2004 Athens Olympics. He seemed certain to secure one more in the 4 x 400 medley relay. Phelp's teammate, Ian Crocker, had not been so fortunate. Fighting flu symptoms all week, Crocker's performance had been sub-par. Just as it appeared that Crocker would go home without a medal, Phelps ceded his position in the 4 x 400 medley relay, giving Crocker a shot at the gold.

Told of the gesture, Crocker nearly wept. "I'm kind of speechless," he said. "It's a huge gift that's difficult to accept. It makes me want to go out and tear up the pool."

With that motivation, Crocker helped his team shatter its own record, winning the gold.

When he left Rivendell, Frodo didn't head out with 1,000 Elves. He had eight companions. Jesus didn't march around backed by hundreds of followers, either. He had 12 men—knuckleheads, every last one of them, but they were a band of brothers.

This is the way of the kingdom of God. Though we are part of a great company, we are meant to live in little platoons. The little companies we form must be small enough for each of the members to know one another as friends and allies. Is it possible for 5,000 people who gather for an hour on a Sunday morning to really and truly know each other? Okay, how about 500? One hundred and eight? It can't be done. They can't possibly be intimate allies.

It can be inspiring and encouraging to celebrate with a big ol' crowd of people, but who will fight for your heart?