More Thoughts On Friendship, From the Isle of Inisherin

 

Last night I got around to watching the critically acclaimed dark comedy The Banshees of Inisherin (2022) with Colin Farrell and Brendan Gleeson. The synopsis is rather easy to relay and develops quickly straight out of gate: Pádraic and Colm are long time friends living in a village on a remote island off the mainland coast of 1920's Ireland. One day Colm decides he doesn't want to be friends with Pádraic anymore. When the stunned Pádraic asks why, Colm informs him it's because he is dull and he wants to spend his remaining years composing and playing music rather than engaging in the inane pub chatter that has composed their friendship til this point. Pádraic has trouble accepting this sudden "divorce" and Colm feels forced to take drastic measures to make it clear he wants nothing to do with Pádraic anymore: every time Pádraic attempts to talk to him, Colm will cut off one of his fingers (which, for an accomplished string musician, should indicate that he means business). What ensues is a string of escalating and tragic Quixotic events which leaves one eventually wondering "How did we get to this point?"

We don't know much about the friendship of the two prior to Colm's declaration of independence, but I found myself straddling the fence of sympathy for both characters in the aftermath: for Colm, because I don't blame him for his desire to live in silence and preserve his peace; and also for Pádraic who sees himself as a "nice" guy whose small world has just been turned upside down by his former friend. Pádraic hasn't done anything wrong; Colm has simply changed. And so there is an ideological war raging behind the character front between the opposing forces of "being nice" and "telling the truth." And because of the interdependent ecosystem of the small remote village, the social ripples emanating forth from this parting is not as without consequence as it may be in, say, a large city or other impersonal setting.  

When I was compiling the chapters for my book, Wisdom and Folly, I led off with a chapter of essays on the topic of friendship. I thought that was curious, amidst weightier topics like Faith, Prayer, Discipleship, Marriage, and Manhood. Why friendship? Maybe it is because friendship is a curious thing. In the case of Pádraic and Colm, it takes the guise of a kind of long-standing, yet non-contractual marriage in which one person can one day say "I just don't like you anymore" and walk away from it. It can hurt just as much as a marriage partner abandoning their vows, but on the face of it, friendship is not a marriage. There is no intentionality about it, but a kind of "social slide" of unspoken assumptions into a partnership of utility. And since this is what most modern friendships are founded upon (the basest level of relationship, according to the philosophers), when it no longer suits us or starts to cramp the life we envision for ourselves, we are free to leave it.  The way Colm did this in The Banshees of Inisherin is actually more admirable because he was honest and forthright, preferring to rip off the bandaid in one swoop rather than lead Pádraic on. Today Pádraic would have most likely just been ghosted via text.

The reaction of Pádraic to Colm's "breakup" with him is equal parts sad and cringe. Pádraic is incredulous to the fact that someone might find it tiresome to keep company with him and engaged in the most mundane of superfluous small talk, as if there might be more to life (as Colm does). He's a simple and nice guy, content with the smallness of his world and whose needs were being met as long as Colm played the part assigned in their friendship. As if this wasn't bad enough, he simply cannot accept Colm's proposition and reacts in a spirit of possessive, shallow narcissism.

The shadow around the corner, however, is that we know many marriages like the friendship between Pádraic and Colm--long standing marriages that lay roots for years and years in a particular time and place, ensconced in a community of friends and neighbors, yet one that may not have been founded on anything particularly meaningful. These could be marriages of convenience or of opportunity, or of mutual interest (running clubs, workplaces, pubs, etc).  The difference is, however, one cannot (or at least is not supposed to) walk so easily away from this legal and sacramental contract that knits two pieces of flesh into one garment. One falls in love and then makes a willful choice--to have and to hold, for better or worse, richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and cherish, til death do you part. The contract is ratified, with one's solemn word, as well as legally and sacramentally. And yet how many of us have known someone who woke up and suddenly thought to themselves about their partners "I just don't love you no more" and seek to dissolve the bonds of the one's solemn word.

In the case of friendship, while a rare friendship goes beyond purposes of utility and has a mutual agape at its core, there is still the matter of like. Liking another person is a tenuous thing; for liking is unlike loving in that loving is an act of the will. One cannot will themselves to like another person. Where, then, does it rest if not in the will? And if one does not like the person they are bound to in friendship, why then would they choose to stay bound thus? They are under no contract to do so. In many ways, it is almost easier to love a person than to like them, for at least one can love against their will and one is forced to work through the barriers to love by way of the vows undertaken. No such contract exists in a friendship. 

The narcissism I noticed in Pádraic is the same narcissism I notice in myself. Rather than honoring Colm's request to leave him alone (essentially "letting him go"), and not taking it personally, he filters everything about the friendship in terms of how it relates to him. What did I do? WTH is wrong with him? Not being liked was a fate worse than death for the town "nice guy." He becomes depressed, spiteful and envious of Colm's music students that come to learn from him (rather than experiencing joy for a man finding meaning and purpose for his life). He even makes friends with the local idiot savant, Dominic, because unlike Colm, Pádraic cannot stand to be alone. The film in this sense is kind of a melding of social-existential and absurdist themes: one would rather burn a man's house down or dismember their hand then put a feud to rest. Perhaps this is the stubborn Irish-ness that is not in my blood. But it does lend itself to a kind of artistic Dadaism that seems to work for the purposes of the film.

But I also notice in Colm aspects of myself as well--the weariness with which I found myself, for years, having endured the superficial pub talk of nonsense and in the process feeling like I was betraying something of myself but too weak to walk away from such friendships. I was being used, and I used. Perhaps I did not know that I longed for something my friends could not provide me, something like an aquifer that flowed for years beneath the crust of my soul, until one day you wake up to--the day your friends all become strangers. You want to love with an agape love, but you realize how self-centered you are and you don't know how. You want more from a friendship, but realize no one has the time. You want to stay the course while recognizing that friendship is always conditional.

It seems like such a far cry from the concept of friendship as Jesus Christ imagined it--a man willing to lay down his life for his friends, friends who turned on him and ran away and left him during his time of need but those same friends he himself never abandoned. He loved them with a love that was not fickle, and hand-chose them for a privileged place in his life. He not only loved them--he liked them too. He prepared a place for them in his eternal home. He poured out his last ounces of love for them from the cross. He judged no one, and made time for everyone. 

One thing we lack today that the characters in The Banshees of Inisherin just took for granted was that village community in which people were knit together at the local level. For some (like Pádraic's sister, Shioban, who flees for the  mainland), the small-mindedness of such insular, inter-dependent communities can be insufferable. 

But I think we are suffering from a worse, more disconnected fate in the modern "social" media era, where we are maintain complete control and autonomy, choosing when and how we respond to someone, hiding behind avatars and monikers, indentured to no man, offering up cheap prayers and hollow consolations because they don't cost us anything, don't mean anything, relationships we can seamlessly step back from with no consequence and no follow up. I don't know which world would be harder to live in. This side of heaven, it all leaves a God-shaped hole.

Paper Thin

 I used to marvel at people online who could take hits like Mike Tyson and let it roll off like water off a duck's back. As a budding writer and a generally conflict-avoidant person, I was much more sensitive to saying the wrong thing and getting push back for it. I never went looking for a fight but sometimes I found myself in one. My skin was paper thin.

One of the advantages of getting older is that I'm now finding myself less and less susceptible to the opinions of others, whether I'm liked or not someone's cup of tea. The more I write and the more I try new things, the more inclined I am to shrug my shoulders--if something works or sticks, great. If it doesn't, no big deal. You can't please everyone, nor should you try to. 

I also find myself trying to simplify my life more. One of the reasons I started taking cold showers every morning was because the hot water would take forever to reach our upstairs bathroom. So now I just turn it on to the coldest setting every morning and step in. It hurts, but it's not complicated.

Because I'm not catering my writing to this group or that group, I write what I feel God is leading me to write and let the chips and seeds fall where they do. If people glean something useful from it, great. If not, there's no shortage of other content out there. Negative comments I just kind of shrug off, which I would never have done in the past. I had someone reply in all caps (I assume, to underscore the point) UNSUBSCRIBE when I sent out a yearly personalized email to those who subscribe to this blog, which is fine as well. I've learned to trust my voice, something I never thought would happen. I've seen some fruit, but not an overwhelming harvest, but maybe at some point my day will come. In the meantime, we have to keep doing the work--the hard work of mercy.

Recently I had to do something very hard for me, something I didn't want to do, when it would have been easier and less troublesome to keep my mouth shut. I realized that keeping silent would have been easier, but my conscience kept nagging me, even when the consequences may potentially be losing a good friendship. I turned it over to God, tried to trust my instincts, and was given the grace of indifference and detachment--if it cost me the friendship, so be it. In a marriage or a friendship, in public office or in ministry, it's best to be transparent with nothing to hide, since our secrets can eat us alive. If nothing else, for simplicity's sake.

It's honestly refreshing to not care too much what people think--if you are a writer, you're probably in the wrong business if you're too susceptible to it anyway, since there will always be critics and detractors. In a friendship, if you can't be honest and truthful in charity with someone, even when it's hard to do, what is that friendship based on? 

Because our time is our most valuable currency as we age, we learn to be more discerning with it. More energy spent worrying about the opinions of others, or people who don't agree with us, is just wasted time. I've gotten a little crankier too--more patient in some things, and less in others--and so I'm more inclined to say what I think though I could do a better job doing so in a spirit of charity. If people are pruned from our lives, maybe it's because God is doing something in and for us that we can't do ourselves, and for a purpose we can't see. 

In any case, I'll continue the slog, continue trying to be truthful, continue trying to learn charity and not be so preoccupied with the opinion of others. As St. John Vianney said, "You cannot please both God and the world at the same time.  They are utterly opposed to each other in their thoughts, their desires, and their actions."

As my skin gets tougher (not a bad thing), I pray it is always seasoned with truth, but tenderized with charity. 

Friendship Is Always Conditional

 

One of the hardest pills for me to swallow in my adult life has been that none of my friends will be there with me through thick and thin, when things get ugly and I get ugly. No one will be with me to the bitter end. One of the hardest pills to swallow is that friendship is always conditional. 

I have always struggled with this, from high school on. Maybe I was spoiled by a family and parents that loved me unconditionally, even at my very worst. In an ideal world, we would have friends stand by us even when we change, when we do unconscionable things. In reality, I have not found this to be the case. 

And maybe for right reason. Employers don't like pension funds because they put them on the financial liability hook to their employees for life. Is it reasonable for them to incur that risk when people are living longer, and markets are volatile? Maybe not. 

Likewise, maybe my idea of people that will not distance themselves when you become a public embarrassment or a ghoul or a Democrat or an apostate is not reasonable. Maybe the conditional logic and clauses are the appropriate response: we are friends as long as you are Catholic. As long as you don't commit a crime. As long as I still like hanging out with you. As long as you don't get weird.

I've made and lost a lot of friends over the years. Very, very few people will stand by you when you are being crucified. If that's the case, these are the "friendships of utility" in which a quid pro quo unspoken understanding is that we have permission to peel off when we are not being fed by the other, or finding a lack of common bond as things change over the years. 

Again, I think this is just a matter of misplaced expectation. I don't have a friend in my life who has pledged to be there for me unconditionally, nor have I been that friend to others. It's a catch 22, isn't it? When we are younger, we do not have the virtue to be concerned about the ultimate good of another, but are concerned mostly with the emotive and utility (benefits) of the friendship. 

Yet, as we age and acquire virtue, the opportunities to develop true friendships--whether utilitarian or those based on the good--wane. Aristotle considered friendship a virtue, and "necessary for life." Whereas in the modern world, however, we get set in our ways, have families and work obligations, and most men simply deduce that friends are a luxury one can do without. 

Given that a true friendship founded on the good of the other requires trust, intimacy, virtue, self-deference, and vulnerability, it becomes like a needle in a haystack trying to find a male friend to which we can confide and bear burdens for. I'm obviously precluded from seeking such friendships with those of the opposite sex. And among those of my own, it can be very difficult to come by a man willing to enter into something like this. 

Realizing that I will probably never have a true friendship based in filial love and virtue to the level in which I would like is, as I said, a tough pill for me to swallow. Like realizing you'll never be a pro basketball player, or that you'll never do great things in your career. I feel foolish for waking up to it so late. So now it's a matter of adjusting expectations and coming to terms, in a kind of dark night, that maybe unconditional friendship really just is a luxury we are simply not afforded on this side of eternity. 

Permission To Serve

 There are two particular instances in Scripture that have always moved me, because I think they reflect the essence of charity:

The first is the Visitation. When Mary the Mother of Jesus visits Elizabeth, her cousin, both are pregnant. The journey from Nazareth to Hebron is over 80 miles as the crow flies, and Elizabeth was in her sixth month with John the Baptist in her womb. Mary almost immediately begins the journey (accompanied by Joseph) after the annunciation. This is a very moving scene when Mary arrives, since both women could likely use the mutual support in their curious pregnancies. 

What motivated Mary to make haste to Judea? I like to think of Mary as completely selfless in this regard; that she does so for Elizabeth's benefit. Pregnant herself, and faced with a sizable journey, she doesn't hesitate to put herself aside and offer herself in charity to her cousin.

The other instance in Scripture I find moving is found in St. Paul's first letter to the Corinthians. He writes, "Wherefore, if meat make my brother to offend, I will eat no flesh while the world standeth, lest I make my brother to offend" (1 Cor 8:13). Paul has such regard for his brothers, those weak in the faith or scrupulous who would otherwise be scandalized in eating food sacrificed to idols. "Be careful, however, that the exercise of your rights does not become a stumbling block for to the weak" (1 Cor 8:9). 

Sometimes we think those we assist in charity must be ideologically aligned with our beliefs. We know that we should be like the Good Samaritan, eschewing convention in theory; but in practice, we often stay insulated in our safe zones, among 'our own kind.' 

The reality is that those in most need of Christian charity and understanding are those who fall outside of our religious purview. "Progressive" Christians and secular liberals do not have a monopoly on serving the poor, those with same sex attraction, those who are aligned with the LGBT movement, transvestites, drug users, those of other religions, indigents and yes, even our enemies of the Cross of Christ. Our charity must transcend our ideologies, it must be radical, and it must hurt. 

Can we admit to ourselves sometimes, as Catholics, that we can subconsciously adopt the attitude of the Levite who crosses over the road so as not to become unclean? 

I think sometimes there is a reticence to enter into this messy fray of need because we do not give ourselves permission to step outside of our ideologies. That listening in charity to someone who has different political views, or asking how we can serve someone who has a gay partner, or stooping down to sit with a person on the street largely ignored and abandoned, somehow makes us an accessory to their erroneous beliefs or sinful behavior. And yet, Christ affirms that "it is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick" (Lk 5:31)

So, if you need permission to put yourself aside in a spirit of charity in order to serve someone else--even an enemy--on their own terms...with no judgment, no accosting, no expectation...I'm happy to give it to you here. Go ahead and put yourself aside, for the least of these. 

Online Communities Are Not Real Communities

 Recently I joined an online community as a way to connect with other Catholics, hopefully deepen my prayer life, and have some support in my spiritual journey. After twelve years on Facebook, I deleted my account two years ago after experiencing a growing dis-ease with both the platform and online interaction as a whole. And so there was some vacancy for me, both in terms of mental space and new-found time, that I found I had after giving up social media. Maybe it was time to revisit the online space and get engaged again?

I went through a kind of module orientation (virtual, of course) for this particular apostolate, watched the videos, learned the rules and etiquette of this particular community as well as its charism, and was a approved as a new member. The website was very well-done, professional and interactive; I made a profile, and within a few days my inbox was starting to be populated with "New Activity" or "New Discussion" notifications--people posting asking questions about prayer, or sharing something they had read, or bringing up topics for conversation. I joined in on a few discussions, even, and attended a Zoom meeting with hundreds of people involved in the apostolate to discuss a spiritual book.

After a few months, though, I started to feel the lack of real-world connection. My inbox filling up each day with people posting this or that, lots of topical 'activity' but no real meaningful connection with individuals, and just feeling like it had the potential to be a repeat of my years on Facebook--posting, checking, dinging, engaging, scrolling, and feeling ultimately unsatisfied and sometimes even agitated at the end of the day. I tried to remember the original reasons I got off in the first place, and saw that this was just a differently packaged experience from the same type of factory. 

Before I got off Facebook, the people I did stay in touch with I connected with and got their phone numbers before jumping ship. Some of these people became real-life friends, who I have met in person and/or talk or text with regularly. There are a few, though, that I find it strange I have no idea what they even look like in person, having never met them and the fact that they never had an online photo of themselves. I go back to this question of "what makes someone a true friend?" and, by extension, "what makes a bonafide community?"

I know for some people who are isolated, introverted, or geographically remote, online-internet-virtual communities may be a lifeline to assuage loneliness and feel connected with others of like-mind, even if it's through a strand of ethernet cable. They look forward to waking up and logging on to their computer and getting down to the business of posting, discussing, and engaging. 

I've thought about this a lot, and I keep coming back to this Matrix-like situation in which a collective of individuals online (on social media, in chat rooms, in online-only apostolates, etc) feel like it's so real, so true, and yet--it's still a mirage of reality. Pardon the crassness, but sex with a condom comes to mind. So close to what's real and true, and yet still a counterfeit separated from reality and fruitfulness by a fraction of a millimeter of rubber.

For someone like myself who is searching for deep, meaningful friendships that are of course Catholic, but even go beyond the topical to a kind of 'communing of souls' that St. Augustine writes so elegantly about, it's a constant source of frustration and disappointment. It reminds me of that film Her with Joaquin Phoenix in which he falls in love with an Operating System (OS), A.I. that seems to know him more intimately than anyone else. And yet, it's still the latex hangover of waking up and realizing that those feelings of intimacy are "always real, but never true."

I think Tommy Killackey in "Talking At Each Other" (Fraternus/Sword & Spade) nails it here:

"Friendships of virtue, by contrast, require a much deeper commitment and investment than those of utility of pleasure. The facade of the screen might not just limit things like physical encounter, but it also helps us avoid the vulnerability required of true friendship. [Roger] Scruton [in Confessions of a Heretic] again helps us here:

"By placing a screen between yourself and the friend, while retaining ultimate control over what appears on that screen, you also hide from the real encounter--forbidding to the other the power and freedom to challenge you in your deeper nature and to call on you here and now to take responsibility for yourself and for him" (Scruton, 96).

Put simply, intimacy and control cannot coexist. Social media always renders us in complete control, and whether we choose to click, scroll, watch, reply, like, or close our tab, we individually always have the power within our fingertips. Scruton goes on to say, 

"Risk avoidance in human relations means the avoidance of accountability, the refusal to stand judged in another's eyes, to come face to face with another person, to live yourself in whatever measure to him or her, and so to run the risk of rejection" (Ibid, 108). 

We might call this Scruton's warning against the risk of avoiding risk. The "risky" friendships that "call us out of ourselves [to] take up our crosses" were not built online, nor could they exist there exclusively. We may still interact online, but the soul of virtuous friendship where we risk encountering another can only occur offline. 

Friendships of utility may exist on LinkedIn, friendships of pleasure may exist in double-tapping our friend's latest post on Instagram, but as long as we maintain perfect control over the encounter, we cannot truly share life, encounter, risk, accompany, and be with anyone behind a screen, full stop." 

The maintaining of control, the lack of vulnerability, the inability to read body language, the unwillingness to engage outside the platform, absence of accountability--these are all things that I think lend credence to the position that online communities are not real communities. Or rather, maybe better stated, online communities are real but not true communities.

When I was quitting smoking I attended a Nicotine Anonymous meeting. I tried to find one in my area in person, but the lady who ran them formerly said there just wasn't enough interest in it in person. I went to a Zoom NA meeting instead. I can't describe it, but it left a lot to be desired, and I quit on my own without going to another one. Post-Covid, I have come to loathe Zoom for anything but the most utilitarian of work meetings.

Have you ever asked yourself why people are more lonely, more socially stunted (especially Millennials), more disconnected, more despairing today? You don't think maybe, just maybe, this type of contracepted "social" internet space contributes to that? Like, that your body could really use a hearty loaf of good bread to satisfy your hunger but instead you are sitting down with a bowl of Fruit Loops instead because that's what's in the pantry? We need to admit this "era of social media" was the Vatican II of social engineering, an novel experiment that was bad for society, failing to delivery on its promises and better suited for the scrap pile of history.

I feel like I have enough years--decades almost--of skin in this game and experience in the online world to be able to reflect on it with some street cred. I've played the game and been around the block, and I have nothing much to show for it, kind of like past one-night stands and and hookups where I was looking for connection, love, and yes, gratification and afterwards left emptyhanded. Always real, and never true. 

I don't know where this leaves me currently, only that my time in prayer and time with my family has become deeper, more heavy and yes, lonely at times, but in a good way--not empty, but real and painful because we are not meant solely for life here on earth but Eternity. I'm less willing to settle for counterfeits and Pavlov-like distractions now that I know what they promise and fail to deliver on, and I'm less inclined to try to fill up that loneliness with discussion/engagement/zoom/distraction for the sake of feeling connected to a ethereal community. 

The Grace Of Being Pruned

 

I have eight fruit trees in my backyard that I have planted over the last several years, all in various states of development. I don't spray, but I do fertilize with grass clippings and other organic matter. I'm currently in a losing battle with a pernicious squirrel that has plucked every piece of fruit from my seven year old Asian pear tree, so I can't speak much to abundant harvests at this point. But there is an often-overlooked act of tree maintenance, and that is pruning.

Until you get comfortable with it, it can be intimidating and counter-intuitive to snip and lob off branch after branch from something you raised from a small sapling. The idea is to focus all the energy of the tree into producing fruit, rather than vegetation, since fruit trees are both ornamental and productive. When you have too many branches, it can crowd the canopy, impede air flow, encourage disease, and reduce the size and quality of fruit. Even when fruit is forming, a skilled arborist will pinch off maybe every other fruit that is developing so that the ones left will a produce bigger and more bountiful crop. "But doesn't that cut your production in half?" one might ask. You really have to trust those who know what they are doing to go in on pruning. But the results are almost always beneficial.

"Every branch in Me that does not bear fruit, He takes away; and every branch that bears fruit, He prunes it so that it may bear more fruit," our Lord says in John 15:2. Notice that it is the Lord who is the Master Gardener who does the pruning. 

I think back to the period in my life about ten years ago when the company I kept was not edifying my faith. I very strongly felt that hesitancy to cut away branches of friends, even though the fruit that was being produced in my faith life was smaller and not very sweet. Just as I had prayed at points for Catholic community ("Lord, send me some brothers," in the spirit of St. Francis), I also prayed that he might clear out the canopy to make room for people of faith when I couldn't do the pruning myself. As I found myself growing in my faith and questioning the efficacy of my fence-straddling between Christ and the world, trying to appease both, this prayer was being answered. First it was my friend J, the story of which I recounted in "The Day That Cost Me My Friend." Overnight a big branch of friendship was cut off, and it hurt, the way you kind of wince when you prune a tree. 

Then there were my secular friends from Philly, when I noticed more distance and less invitations to things the closer I got to my faith. One by one, they stopped calling, we hung out less, and now there's only really one guy I stay in touch with. Again, it hurt and was confusing, but was for the purpose of producing the fruit of faith which was being impeded when all my energy was going to maintaining the cognitive dissonance of being a "man of two minds," as St. James writes. 

Even in the faith, though, there are people we need to have pruned from our lives, or do the pruning ourselves. A lot of auxiliary Catholic friends through social media were one example of these kinds of "suckers"--vigorous vertical growth originating from the root system or lower main stem of a plant. Plant suckers are usually undesirable—you want the plant, but you don’t want its suckers because they sap the plant’s energy. Some I kept, and they have become friends, but others it was just as well because they really weren't contributing anything to growth. Then there were some of the diseased or toxic Catholics that weren't really adding anything of value to my life, but were bringing it down by their negativity or combativeness. 

One thing I noticed was that while I have a healthy tolerance for diverse opinion and differences, my life has gotten much more peaceful the more I have been pruned of people from my life that sucked energy or were simply contrarians or antagonists, which ultimately distracted me from my family or distracted me from my ultimate responsibilities. I almost took pride in how many "little fruits" I could count on the buds of the branches. But any experienced gardener knows five hundred plumb, healthy stonefruit are better than a thousand crabapples.

When the Lord prunes people from our lives, it can hurt but is ultimately for our good, and there is a reason He does it. It's good to pray, when we are honest and humble, "Lord, if this is not good for me, take it away," as much as we pray for God to send good things into our lives. Even now, I have to spend time in discernment as to what relationships to invest energy into, and which ones to ultimately let the Lord prune. It's not always active--sometimes it just happens that people come into your life for a season and leave. That always hurts a little too, but it's just a natural cycle. I think Divine Providence knows who and what is best for us, and grace is the best way of allowing the Holy Spirit to lead people into our lives or out of it. 

Pruning is not an exact science--it is more an art that is carried out effectively when the pruner has the gifts of observation, intuition, and vision. Social relationships are like that. We do it imperfectly in this life, but when left to God to do the pruning for us, He produces more in us than we ever could on our own apart from the vine, which is Christ.

"You did not choose me, but I chose you and appointed you that you should go and bear fruit and that your fruit should abide, so that whatever you ask the Father in my name, he may give it to you." (Jn 15:16)

Can People With Different Values Truly Be Friends?

This morning I texted an old friend of 15 years something I saw on the topic of bachelor vs. married life. My friend is not a Christian, but we've always stayed in touch and hung out. We spent our twenties and early thirties in the city, so I guess he just came to mind. I thought it was an interesting diatribe on the shallowness of material living (specifically, in this case, young urbanites) that is fun at first but gets lonelier as one ages if they stay in it. I thought it gave some food for thought. He responded that he thought it was judgmental, negative, and narrow minded. 

I don't have an issue with people being of different opinions about things. But it did give me pause, and made me kind of reflect on the life cycle of our friendship. What bound us together? Was it that we went to bars together and lived in the same geographic locale? Was there anything deeper? I kind of assumed there was, just by virtue of the years, but I'm not sure. We live near each other and we like riding bikes. Beyond that, I'm not sure.

It also made me think more fundamentally, "Well, what is a friend? What is friendship, really? What constitutes a friend?"

 As I may have mentioned previously, I am an Augustinian at heart. My conversion to the faith came by way of dissatisfaction with the temporal nature of the world--I wanted something true, something beautiful, something that would last. "Love is real, not fade away," as Jerry Garcia said. My friendships in high school were solid but, looking back, shallow and utilitarian; I wanted more than my friends could give, I think. One of my closest friends in particular I realized years later really didn't care about me, as close as we were. I was just someone to occupy time with. 

Years later, I would lose another good friend of many years (whom I recount in The Day That Cost Me My Friend) over the issue of gay marriage. I remember Jennifer Fulwiler when she still talked and wrote about Catholics things recounting this elephant in the room with one of her close (gay) friends when he asked her, "So, what do you think of gay marriage?"

"At the end of the evening — way too late, as always — we all exchanged hugs and promised that we’d do this more often. I watched Andrew and Tom walk away, holding hands, and prayed that I hadn’t done a totally terrible job of articulating my beliefs. I hoped that, if nothing else, he understood that there is no contradiction between me being a faithful Catholic and a close friend of his. I have converted to the religion of the crucifix, a belief system that promises joy in exchange for losing it all. Most people don’t want to sign up for that. I get that. I hope they consider it, for their own sake, since their lives would be better if they did — but it doesn’t change how I feel about them if they don’t. As the guys disappeared down the street, I hoped Andrew knew how much I loved him and Tom, and I hoped they still loved me too."

I'm not sure if "Andrew" is still in Jen's life, but I would be surprised if he was. Not that it's not possible. But at some point, there is a degree of eggshell naiveté the older we get when belief systems, race, class, religion, and politics are different. We tend to homogenize over time according to our values. My sophomore year of college I read a book Why Are All The Black Kids Sitting Together In The Cafeteria? by Beverly Tatum. The title alone suggests that it's not an uncommon sociological phenomenon. Race, like friendship, is complex. 

Hate to say it, but I'm no exception. I have no gay friends, no Muslim friends, no African American friends, no truly poor friends. It's not for lack of trying or desire. I consider myself pretty open minded. But it just seems like the natural state of things. If you're honest, you're probably in the same boat.

Friendship is complex and for some individuals (like those, I imagine, with Autism or social anxieties) it can be frustratingly elusive. Cicero defined friendship as "a perfect conformity of opinions upon all religious and civil subjects, united with the highest degree of mutual esteem an affection." Augustine adopted this pat definition early in his life as a rhetorician, but as he aged and matured the subject became for him more complex. Mike Aquilina of the St. Paul Center notes, 

"It's not the agreement of religious and civil subjects that makes friends. It's the grace God gives us that allows us to love others and become friends. That means the only real friendship is Christian friendship."

That's something, isn't it? "The only real friendship is Christian friendship." I'm at the point in my life when my time is in short supply and I have to make sure it's being utilized judiciously. Why waste time with what's not authentic? I want the real deal, and if that means that the only real friendships in my life are because they are built on a Christian foundation, then so be it. Some men don't have any friends, or maybe one or two....and sometimes by choice. It might not even bother them--their family and their job and their solitude may be enough for them. The Age of Social Media adds an additional layer of obfuscation. We were not meant to have 1k+ "friends." The term itself in this context is a misnomer.  

As for me, like the way our unhinged society is debating "What is a man? What is a woman?", I am wrestling with this question that is maybe bigger in my life than it should be: What constitutes a friend? Do I have any true friends? Why have so many people come into my life...and ultimately exited as well? Does anyone truly know my heart, is there for me unselfishly? Am I for them? What does it mean to love someone? To be a true friend?

If anyone has a "theology of friendship" they would care to share in the comments, please do.

Related: 

The Ins And Outs Of Male Friendship

All My Friends Will Soon Be Strangers

Subversion Through Friendship

 Daryl Davis is a fascinating man...my kind of guy. The R&B musician who made a point of befriending members of the KKK as a way of coaxing the white hoods out of their grip said this,

"The most important thing I learned is that when you are actively learning about someone else you are passively teaching them about yourself. So if you have an adversary with an opposing point of view, give that person a platform. Allow them to air that point of view, regardless of how extreme it may be. And believe me, I’ve heard things so extreme at these rallies they’ll cut you to the bone.

Give them a platform.

You challenge them. But you don’t challenge them rudely or violently. You do it politely and intelligently. And when you do things that way chances are they will reciprocate and give you a platform. So he and I would sit down and listen to one another over a period of time. And the cement that held his ideas together began to get cracks in it. And then it began to crumble. And then it fell apart."

I've seen the Socratic method in action, mostly on social media and through those who are steeped in logic and love to debate (like Ben Shapiro). I'm sure it works to change minds on issue in some cases and there's a place for it. But most people steeped in ignorance are not thinking logically, not connecting on that level. It also belies the adage that I find to be true, "no one cares what you know until they know that you care." So, Davis' unorthodox approach to winning someone over is attractive to me, and after going into the lion's den and leading more than 200 Klansman away from their formerly racist life, it's hard to argue that it doesn't work. 

I think this approach could have potential in the work of pro-life activism. It's a different approach, for sure. Most of the time, the escorts and pro-abortion activists are dug in because they see us as the enemy. They are on the defensive. And we see their actions and ideology as abhorrent (which it is). But rarely do we 'cross the aisle' with an open mind--not to agree with what they believe, but to say, "you know, let's suspend that for a moment and just meet on a human level.' There would be many that wouldn't agree; you don't sit down with murderers or invite them into your home to share a meal. You hold up your signs and yell from the sidewalk in order to get your point across. In it, you make clear what side you are on.

There is one of Aesop's fables that speaks to this,

The North Wind and the Sun had a quarrel about which of them was the stronger. While they were disputing with much heat and bluster, a Traveler passed along the road wrapped in a cloak.

"Let us agree," said the Sun, "that he is the stronger who can strip that Traveler of his cloak."

"Very well," growled the North Wind, and at once sent a cold, howling blast against the Traveler.

With the first gust of wind the ends of the cloak whipped about the Traveler's body. But he immediately wrapped it closely around him, and the harder the Wind blew, the tighter he held it to him. The North Wind tore angrily at the cloak, but all his efforts were in vain.

Then the Sun began to shine. At first his beams were gentle, and in the pleasant warmth after the bitter cold of the North Wind, the Traveler unfastened his cloak and let it hang loosely from his shoulders. The Sun's rays grew warmer and warmer. The man took off his cap and mopped his brow. At last he became so heated that he pulled off his cloak, and, to escape the blazing sunshine, threw himself down in the welcome shade of a tree by the roadside.

 

What if we just suspended our disgust and did this kind of dirty work of risky engagement? I like Davis' out of the box thinking. He's not about the sides or the image or caring what team people think he's on or doing things just to be seen as putting in the effort: he's doing what he's doing to get results:

"I had one guy from an NAACP branch chew me up one side and down the other, saying, “You know, we’ve worked hard to get 10 steps forward. Here you are sitting down with the enemy having dinner, you’re putting us 20 steps back.”

I pull out my robes and hoods and say, “Look, this is what I’ve done to put a dent in racism. I’ve got robes and hoods hanging in my closet by people who’ve given up that belief because of my conversations sitting down to dinner. They gave it up. How many robes and hoods have you collected?” And then they shut up."

What can we learn from this kind of unorthodox method of converting those most 'out there?' Well, for one it seems to square with the Christian ethos of "Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you." (Lk 6:27-28).  So it's a betrayal of nothing, except maybe what we are used to doing in conventional ways. Christ walked straight through Samaria. He picked up a woman from the dirt rather than stone her. He tells the parable of the Good Samaritan to illustrate the point of those who love the unlovable in spite of the convention that says not to. 

Two, it gives new meaning to the dirty word 'dialogue.' I don't think dialogue is necessarily a bad thing, except when it becomes masturbatory. Part of Davis' background as a child of foreign service workers was exposure to and being educated in different cultures from all over the world at an early age. So, there was a lot to learn from others. And the more extreme cases, the better it works. But, as Davis says, 

“There are a lot of well meaning white liberals. And a lot of well meaning black liberals,” he said. “But you know what? When all they do is sit around and preach to the choir it does absolutely no good. If you’re not a racist it doesn’t do any good for me to meet with you and sit around and talk about how bad racism is.”

Third, it challenges our faith in a way that gets us out of our bubbles and echo chambers. If you are strong in your faith, you don't have to fear. We are not given a spirit of fear, but of power, and of love, and of sobriety (2 Tim 1:7). It gives us a missionary heart in our own wicked country. It allows us to work one by one in the work of converting the culture. Because you are putting yourself out there with the potential or embarrassment or failure, it tests your resolve. Then again, what do you really have to lose? If you invite a pro-abort to have coffee, or a rabid atheist over for dinner, the worst they can do is say 'no.' 

Finally, I think this kind of technique works well when you are very open minded, and not invested in the outcome, but willing to just ride the boat to wherever it drifts to. Not everyone is open to friendship or being openminded--but some may be. Some may be on the precipice of changing their mind about what they are involved in, but no one has extended a hand to them. That hand could be yours. Bubbles are safe, comfortable. We know what those in our bubbles believe, and you are 'let in' because of that. 

But walking into a lion's den filled with those who hate you, and extending your hand--there's something to that, something admirable. Something that requires not only Christian faith, but faith in humanity and a willingness to think outside the conventional box. I wouldn't believe it if Mr. Davis' didn't have the hoods to prove that it has potential. But he does. And so I do. 

Related: 

Say It With A Smile

If We Are Wrong, God Almighty Is Wrong

Christian Men, Take the Beating

How To Talk To Your Kids About Racism (Without Being a SJW)

On Avoiding True Friends

One thing I receive periodically in the mail that I have grown to appreciate is a print edition of Sword & Spade, a publication of Fraternus, a Catholic apostolate dedicated to mentoring boys into virtuous Catholic men. Fraternus was founded by Jason Craig, who runs father/son retreats at his St. Joseph's Farm in South Carolina. My son is a couple years too young for the retreats, but I've connected with Jason a few times on the phone and he's a genuine guy who much prefers real life encounters and getting dirt under his finger nails to the mirage of social media presence.  

One of the articles in the magazine this month was "Talking At Each Other" by Tommy Killackey, who  touches on something important on the topic of friendship:

"Friendships of virtue, by contrast, require a much deeper commitment and investment than those of utility of pleasure. The facade of the screen might not just limit things like physical encounter, but it also helps us avoid the vulnerability required of true friendship. [Roger] Scruton [in Confessions of a Heretic] again helps us here:

"By placing a screen between yourself and the friend, while retaining ultimate control over what appears on that screen, you also hide from the real encounter--forbidding to the other the power and freedom to challenge you in your deeper nature and to call on you here and now to take responsibility for yourself and for him" (Scruton, 96).

Put simply, intimacy and control cannot coexist. Social media always renders us in complete control, and whether we choose to click, scroll, watch, reply, like, or close our tab, we individually always have the power within our fingertips. Scruton goes on to say, 

"Risk avoidance in human relations means the avoidance of accountability, the refusal to stand judged in another's eyes, to come face to face with another person, to live yourself in whatever measure to him or her, and so to run the risk of rejection" (Ibid, 108). 

We might call this Scruton's warning against the risk of avoiding risk. The "risky" friendships that "call us out of ourselves [to] take up our crosses" were not built online, nor could they exist there exclusively. We may still interact online, but the soul of virtuous friendship where we risk encountering another can only occur offline. 

Friendships of utility may exist on LinkedIn, friendships of pleasure may exist in double-tapping our friend's latest post on Instagram, but as long as we maintain perfect control over the encounter, we cannot truly share life, encounter, risk, accompany, and be with anyone behind a screen, full stop."

I think this is what I find social media so offensive: I value friendship so much, and online "friendships" are a kind of counterfeit for the reasons outlined above (that we may not even be cognizant of). Even in high school (before social media existed), before my conversion, I had such high regard for true friendships that never seemed to hit the mark, and always left me disappointed and disillusioned. As the author notes, "intimacy and control cannot coexist [and] social media always renders us in complete control." What we are left with, then, is utility but a lack of intimacy. And we wonder why we are such a lonely society. 

What Does It Mean To Be Faithful

Something occurred to me when it comes to Calvinists: no one who attends your run-of-the-mill Presbyterian church on a typical Sunday would consider themselves reprobate. According to Calvin's theology of double predestination, God chooses some to be saved (the Elect) and some to be damned. If one is not part of the Elect (and, thus, reprobate or damned), there is nothing you can do about it. No point in attending church on Sundays or living a moral life, because this is not a matter of free agency, but God's salvific grace that has passed you by. You're damned if you do and damned if you don't, so to speak. It would logically follow then that those in the pews listing to Rev. Lovejoy's sermon at First Presbyterian must presume themselves as part of the Elect because, otherwise...well, why bother? 

Of course, as Catholics, we know this is "double predestination" is heresy and not the true nature of God, for "The Lord delayeth not his promise, as some imagine, but dealeth patiently for your sake, not willing that any should perish, but that all should return to penance" (2 Peter 3:9). It is the mystery of the cooperation with grace and that man may be redeemed by choosing the good--not the total depravity purported by Calvin--that gives Catholics hope. No one is beyond His terrible mercy.  We are not pre-determined to damnation.

On the other hand, you have the "once saved, always saved" contingent among Evangelicals who, unlike Catholics, do not believe that one can lose their salvation once they have been "born again." "Wherefore he that thinketh himself to stand, let him take heed lest he fall" St. Paul tells the church at Corinth (1 Cor 10:12). To these Christians, perdition is not possible for a child of God to sin in such a way that he will be lost. And yet, they may find themselves on the outside of the door on account of failing to carry out God's will, being told "I never knew you" (Mt 7:23). "And all the people shall hear and fear, and no longer act presumptuously" (Deuteronomy 17:9-13).

Somewhere in the middle, the Catholic finds himself. He knows he is a child of God and member of His family by nature of his baptism. He "has been saved, is being saved, and hopes to be saved." He knows "none is righteous, no not one" (Ps 14:1) and yet he knows if he has sinned mortally he is one confession away from Paradise. He knows even should he ascend the heights of sanctity, like the Ladder of Divine Ascent icon of Mt. Sinai, though he may be two rungs from the gates of Heaven, demons stand ready to pick him off by way of pride, presumption, and other temptations to drag him to the worm that never dies waiting for him below. The Catholic recognizes this tension, and the mystery of salvation, that we can't wrap up in a box-and-bow and put in our back pocket. 

As a married man, I am always cognizant of the fact that my faithfulness, or that of my wife's, is not a guarantee in which one can sit back on their laurels in self-assurance. When the Lord tells Joshua after the death of Moses to lead the people he instructs him "to be careful to obey all the law my servant Moses gave you; do not turn from it to the right or to the left." (Joshua 1:7). 

In marriage, it's the "looks to the left and to the right" that can get you in trouble. We make these vows when we stand on the altar "to be true...in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health...to love you and honor you all the days of my life." There is an exclusivity there that can be undermined in a moment, even after years or decades of faithfulness. One lie makes a liar. One affair makes an adulterer. 

Aside from the Lord, and my parents and immediate family, I have put all my eggs in the basket of my wife that she will be with me, and I with her, til death. That radical kind of exclusive trust--faith even--in another human being who has the capacity to hurt you more than anyone on earth and is privy to your darkest secrets, allows for a love that surpasses that of common relationships. 

I have always been faithful to my wife for the eleven years we have been married, and she has always been faithful to me. What would it take to drive her away? Infidelity? Violence? Financial Ruin? We have not been through these trials to date. I trust her with our children, our finances, and my very life. She has a greater capacity to hurt me than anyone I know. And yet she refrains from doing so for the most part, out of faithfulness. I, for my part, try to do the same.  

My issue, however, is not with my wife, but questioning what it means to be faithful to the Lord in the context of my relationship with Him. I can only think of this relationship as it relates to marriage, because my faith and my marriage are my two bedrocks when everything else seems to be shifting beneath my feet, particularly when it comes to friends. 

I had a text exchange with a close friend the other day that got heated. It affected me more than I thought it would, and I was out of sorts for days. I have friends who I rarely talk to anymore who I thought I was close with on account of all this stupid vax 'n mask stuff. I'm realizing that these are not unconditional relationships, but dependent on a minimum of congealing factors that can fluctuate depending on circumstances. 

"We should esteem highly health and friendship," St. Augustine writes, "and we may never despise these. Health and friendship are natural goods. God created the human being so that he or she could exist and live a life that is healthy. But in order that the human being should not be alone, he or she desires friendship. Now, friendship begins with wife end children, and then reaches out to strangers." [Sermon 299D.16.1] 

It has always been hard for me to accept that friends or people I am close with now may not be here in five or ten years. I may slight them in some way, step out of line, and without the assurances of the kind of bond I have in my marriage, that they will always be there. I once got very angry at a friend in high school who said they loved me unconditionally, because I took it as a lie. Friendship almost always comes with conditions, and can be hard to be faithful to through thick and thin. "The saddest thing about betrayal is it never comes from your enemies" as the saying goes. 

I even question how faithful I am to the Lord these days, and how I show Him that faithfulness and how I love Him. This comes by way of comparison, I think, when I see principled people taking morally admirable stands at great costs to prove their fidelity to what they believe, and publicly so. They have a tribe, small as it may be, but fiercely loyal. I have been mediating, instead, on the words of the Lord, "who has no place to lay his head" (Lk 9:58).

As much as I started this post with thinking about Calvinists and their presumption of being part of the Elect, I had also been giving a lot of thought to the traditors and the Donatists of the 4th century. Donatists adopted “Deo laudes” (“God be praised”) as a their slogan to counter the ancient Catholic “Deo gratias” (“Thanks be to God”). This was the rallying cry with which they harangued Catholics. One distinctive characteristic of the Donatists was their desire for martyrdom. Donatus taught that death for the “cause,” even death by suicide, was holy and merited a martyr’s crown and eternal life. They did their best to incite Catholics and pagans to kill them. When their provocations failed, they sometimes took their own lives, a favored method being to leap from high cliffs with the cry “Deo laudes!”

It is not sin that turns us into traditors, Judas', but kisses. We exchange our loyalty in the inner circle for silver pieces offered by outsiders, enemies. And when we realize the depths of the betrayal, a Judas does not weep as Peter does, but despairs unto death. He is cast out, but also casts himself out into darkness. 

What does it mean to be a faithful friend, a faithful Christian, and a faithful spouse? To not betray with a kiss? It may be too much (I have always been "too much") to think one could be loved and befriended "unconditionally." I have been hurt, and I have hurt. I have always wanted my friends to (unrealistically) stay awake with me perpetually in the garden of my dark night.

And yet all my friends become strangers at some point, and I mourn it every time like the seasons. Like the dunes that remain after the tide rolls out, my faith, wife, and family remain. 

Can Men And Women Be Friends?

 

I'm a "friends" guys. My friends are important to me, and have also changed over the years. I wrote about this shift in All My Friends Will Soon Be Strangers.

I'm somewhat 'gender-blind' when it comes to who my friends are. I have old friends and young friends, Christian friends and some non-Christian friends, and female friends as well as male friends. But I'm much more cognizant of boundaries today then maybe I was in the past. As I recounted in 'I'm Living the Cliche'--Extramarital Affairs And The Illusion Of Happiness, 

A few years ago I had a good friend that I reconnected with, though I can't remember the circumstances. We had worked together in the city years before, and she was a Christian. I knew her husband. We would text and email every now and then, nothing that I wouldn't show my wife if I asked, mostly conversations about faith and Christian living. I so desperately wanted Christian friends to connect with during times when I felt under siege in a pagan culture that I was willing to be somewhat gender-blind.

Still...I had a feeling I was on a slope that was a little slick. What if things got hard with my wife and I turned to this other person who seemed to understand my spiritual struggles? We had plans to get together with our kids at a park or something when she was in town one time a few years ago, but I thought better of it and said that while innocent enough, it probably wasn't a good idea. She mentioned she was relieved I had called off the meeting for similar reasons. While there was never any explicit attraction, the potential was there, and I think both of us, sensing it, distanced ourselves and eventually fell out of touch.

I've never been a good lier, or even tempted by it. As a kid I would get so anxious and sick to my stomach at the prospect of having to keep stories straight under pressure that I just vowed to never get caught in a lie by never telling one. I did have a couple friends who dated compulsive liers, which wasn't apparent right away (they was that good). There's something psychologically off about someone who lies about even little things that don't matter in order to maintain a web of untruths. I just figured, in my adult life, it was just easier to always tell the truth.

So, my wife knows I can't really lie, and that I won't really try. If I do something wrong, I fess up to it pretty much right away, for my selfish sake as well as hers.

But adultery isn't just "something wrong" that one does, like saying you took out the garbage when you really didn't. No; adultery is a complete and utter betrayal. It breaks vows, it rends hearts, it destroys families. While forgiveness is possible, some marriages never recover from such a blow, with trust never getting restored. It is such a serious threat that I don't think being a little extra cautious, a little extra 'extreme', is unwarranted.

My litmus is if I catch myself looking over my shoulder, or feeling like there is something I need to hide from my wife, that's a red flag. I have plenty of platonic friendships with members of the opposite sex, but as a general rule I don't "hang out" or get together without including her. I also will hand over my phone or email if she asks to see it (she rarely does), and because I have yielded authority of my body to my wife (1 Cor 7:4), I use her feelings as a gauge. She is a reasonable person and a sensible woman: if she's uncomfortable with something, it's for good reason, and I need to pay attention to and respect that. I can also be gullible and naive, not unlike Marilyn Monroe in the apartment scene, so she is a good point of defense in the event I am missing something.

I try to adopt the 'Pence Approach' with a little bit of latitude in my personal life when it comes to boundaries. Billy Graham recalls during his time of ministry that,

"We all knew of evangelists who had fallen into immorality while separated from their families by travel. We pledged among ourselves to avoid any situation that would have even the appearance of compromise or suspicion. From that day on, I did not travel, meet or eat alone with a woman other than my wife. We determined that the Apostle Paul’s mandate to the young pastor Timothy would be ours as well: “Flee . . . youthful lusts” (2 Timothy 1:22)

It's a little different for more high-profile people who can easily be set up or compromised, sometimes even if they weren't expecting it, by others. But I do think men and women can be friends as long as some intentional boundaries and some unspoken common sense is enacted: 

-In the 'one flesh' union of your marriage, everything that's yours is hers (your wife's) and everything that is hers is yours. That means, in the context of our marriage, if my wife ever asked to see my email or phone, I would hand it over to her, and vice versa. This keeps trust, and accountability, at the forefront of our marriage so that we give no reason for suspicion. But it only works when you are open and use that as a motivator to be honest. 

-Don't put yourself in potentially compromising situations, either in regards to temptation or public scandal. I think it goes without saying that you should not be having lunch with a female friend if you are married, and that most interaction if it takes place should be in the context of other groups of friends. This may look different for different people in different contexts, but it should go without saying.

-For phone conversations I do have with other women, in almost every case, my wife knows the woman. Any conversations should not be of a personal or intimate nature, or related to personal aspects of your marriage, but should be focused on the objective. I called a female friend last night to ask advice about a particular topic, but it was nuts and bolts stuff. Be wary of the emotions. Keep things objective. Do not confide anything or place an uncomfortable burden on someone of the opposite sex that is in any way hidden. If you find yourself looking over your shoulder for your spouse suddenly walking into the room during the course of your conversation, that's a red flag. 

-Live your own life with integrity so that you guard against immorality. If there is even a hit of inappropriateness (which can sometimes be difficult to discern) in the context of a friendship, by either party, flee. It's not worth the risk. I'd say in 99% of cases, there is no attraction between the females I am friends with--not because they aren't attractive, but because you don't let yourself go there. If you feel that you are, best to play it safe and put some distance there. These women have strong marriages, and in the vast majority of the cases, I also know or are friends with their husbands. Not to say it can't be an issue, but it does help to have that so there's no secrecy. 

These are just a few things to consider, I'm sure there are others. It is also a matter of personal comfort level and personal boundaries. Not everyone may feel comfortable and may take a more Amish approach, either for their benefit of the benefit of their spouse. I'm a little bit more liberal, but I also have a wife that trusts me and I give her reasons to. The last thing I want to do is betray that trust. If that was ever threatened, I (hope I) would back off whatever situation was putting that in danger. Common sense goes a long way, having your marriage on good footing, and appropriate boundaries. So I wouldn't take the approach of "men and women can never be friends," at least for myself. Just be smart, prudent, discerning, honest, and never give reason for scandal. There's a lot of weirdos out there. Thankfully my friends, both men and women, don't seem to fall into that category.

The Ins and Outs of Male Friendship

My twenty year high school reunion is this weekend, at a bar in my hometown. I want to want to go, but I just don't. I didn't have a bad experience in high school; I had a good group of guy friends, and we would hang out in each other's basements shooting pool and watching Saturday Night Live reruns, take off after school on Friday afternoons to hike in the woods and walk the railroad tracks, play backyard football, and cruise around town in our cars. I wasn't a Christian then, and so it seems like another life when those things were what we were really living for. Our common bonds were, for the most part, external; it was what we did together that bound us.

I don't, however, remember feeling like I could always rely on them when it came to inner struggles. One close friend in particular was more fair weather than I may have liked. Though we had grown up together, he never visited me when I was hospitalized, and he only seemed to call for his own purposes--when he wanted to hang out, or no one else was around. It was never completely without some kind of self-gratifying ulterior motive. We reconnected a few years ago and I had hoped all that had changed, but I saw relatively quickly that it hadn't. I was someone to hang out and have a good time with when it was convenient or suited him, but beyond that there wasn't a whole lot that bound us together. Still kind of stings to this day.

Men are often pegged as simple, uncomplicated creatures. This is generally true when speaking about our needs--when we're fed, working, feel respected, and having marital relations regularly, we are 98% taken care of. It's not rocket science.

However, if there's one variance between men and women where the inverse proves to be true, it's in the realm of friendship. From my vantage point, making and maintaining female friendships as a woman appears to be vastly less complicated than what it takes to forge lasting male friendships. If women are more relational in general, being relational comes naturally. For men, however--even the most normal, well adjusted men--forming lasting friendships can feel akin to what it takes to dismantle a bomb. There are a lot of wires, and touch one to the wrong cathode and boom show's over.

Men tend to view friendships as optional rather than ancillary--good things that they may long for but not know how, or be willing, to forge. And yet we see articles like this one in the Boston Globe, that the biggest threat facing middle-aged men isn't smoking or obesity, but loneliness. As I approach middle age, I can relate to this. It seems harder and harder to make friends. We are in a busy season--working, trying to advance in our careers, raising families, yard work and house maintenance.

Making friends as a guy can be tricky, though--there are a lot of factors and conditions that need to be right for the kernel of friendship to find good soil and take root. These are a few of the things that I have noticed:

1) Men do not just pick up the phone and call with a desire to relate their struggles or connect. If that is the objective, there needs to be an external modus operandi to facilitate the internal, something to "do." It could be going camping or building something, some activity to couch it in. Generally speaking, men do not call each other to get coffee and talk. Having a beer at the bar may be the exception to that rule, but it would have to be clear that the reason for getting together is the beer and not the talk.

2) Protestant men seem better equipped to support one another in their faith journey by way of "fellowship" and bible studies. I have heard Catholic men speak of such gatherings as effeminate (sharing, talking, etc); I don't necessarily think that is always the case, but the Catholic paradigm is one in which it is commonly posited that "the sacraments are all I need" or "I go to Mass to worship, not to meet other people." Men stand alone, as the thinking goes. If you're not isolated and holding your own on your own, there's a deficiency, a weakness, in your inability to stand on your own two feet.

3) You have to be mindful of the "weird" or "gay" factor. Men (and boys, generally) have a pretty strict code of conduct when it comes to revealing weakness and emotions in a group. No man, generally speaking, wants to be associated with effeminate men, because you might be regarded as effeminate by association. It sounds so stereotypical but there is truth in it, like it or not. Now, that being said, I feel pretty strongly that men with same sex attraction can benefit from friendship with heterosexual men, and that heterosexual men can extend such invitations to friendship as a mutually-beneficial act of Christian charity and brotherhood. But the maleness piece needs to take precedence over sexual identity, and that can sometimes be difficult for men with SSA to adjust to, because they don't know always know the codes and inner ways of relating in that way. That's ok--they are men first and foremost.

4) The mentor/mentee model works well with men. Again, it may necessitate revolving around some rite of passage or activity (working on a car together, for example), but the opportunities to pass on wisdom and life lessons are appreciated by both the one passing it on and the one receiving it.


St. Augustine had such a high regard for friendship that he posited it as one of two things in the world that are of the utmost importance:

"In this world two things are essential: life and friendship. Both should be highly prized and we must not undervalue them. Life and friendship are nature’s gifts. God created us that we might exist and live: this is life. But if we are not to remain solitary, there must be friendship."  [Sermon Denis 16,1]

As tricky as making friends as a guy in middle age can be, and as much as I have always wanted more from a friendship than seemed possible in this life, I still think it's indispensable for our social and spiritual well-being. No man is an island, no man is completely self-sufficient. It's perfectly fine to share common interests like sports and activities, but how much more so a common desire to cast ourselves on Christ and live the virtues? Friendship with other men, when it is built on the foundation of Christ, helps us to grow in holiness and shoulder each other's burdens. It doesn't have to be weird or awkward, but it more likely than not does require a degree of intentionality. As St. Thomas wrote, “There is nothing on this earth more to be prized than true friendship.”