Randy recalled times I’ve spoken of
Aristotle’s views on friendship – things like “The opposite of a friend is a
flatterer,” or “Friends help each other to become wise.” He asked if, over 40 years now, we have
fulfilled this for one another. Probably
each one of us privately mused something like I did: yes, in some measure, and for all I’ve
received I’m immensely grateful; but yet how I wish I had served in this
capacity in better, more intentional ways for the other two.
I did share that what I value most about
their love and resulting friendship is that they are maybe the only friends I
have who don’t think of me as the senior pastor of a large church, as a
published author, as a community activist, as a person of achievement. They are interested in these things, because
they are interested in me. But they are
unimpressed, even if appreciative. They are
the ones who love me quite apart from those accomplishments, and they are the
ones who would love me if I lost it all, if I lost my job or were somehow
discredited or jeopardized professionally.
I like that. There’s an ease, a
sense of belonging, no need to keep up appearances. I think we call that “grace.”
Interestingly, on the same long drive
north toward the sacred isle of Iona, we discussed the contemporary issue of
gay marriage. Randy insisted that we
need to define marriage. We spoke of
things like “two people committed to one another” – and without getting into
what else we explored on that topic, we did reflect on the curious fact that,
as lifelong friends, we are irrevocably committed to one another. We never took vows. We have never even brought up the subject to one
another. How lovely to realize the
commitment was surely made, and was as enduring (or even more durable) than
even a marriage – yet with no formality, no legal documentation, not even the
simple act of saying to each other “Hey, we’re in this forever.”
