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Rollins Chapel, 9/24. John 15: 9-15
“I Have Called You Friends.”
For the past two years,
it has fallen to me to lead a memorial service,
for classes celebrating their 60th class reunions.
as Dartmouth reunion weekend comes to a close.
When I was first asked to do this,
the alumni office gave me the prescribed order for service -
Amidst the reading of standard memorial Psalms,
and the singing of my all time favorite hymn,
Dartmouth Undying,
a line read: “Reflections on the Journey of Life.”
And I quickly realized that they were expecting me,
to offer my reflections on the journey of life,
to a gathering of Octogenarian Dartmouth Alums.
Wise though I may be,
to say this was a daunting task,
would be a serious understatement.
But I sat down to think and write,
and came to terms with the fact that,
as different as the classes of 1953 and 2013 may be,
the two things that likely matter most,
when looking back on one’s college experience
remain love and friendship.
(the service went fine, by the way. Thanks for asking.)
The years of one’s college education
are no doubt a unique opportunity for forging fast, meaningful and significant friendships.
Surrounded by thousands of bright people, thoughtful people,
(some of the time anyway)
people of similar ages and interests,
we form relationships in this setting,
which, with any luck,
will remain until our own 50th and 60th reunions.
But this is, perhaps, an overly romantic view of friendships.
We live in an age of tremendous technological advance in friend-making,
always wired and connected to people across the world,
in increasingly impersonal ways
So we’ve decided to talk about Friendship this term.
In the face of facebook and social networking,
wherein I have some 600 “friends”
a significant portion of whom I’m not entirely sure I actually know,
we’ve decided to talk about Friendship this term.
To reflect on it seriously, thoughtfully,
and theologically.
To come to terms,
perhaps, with the fact that while I may have hundreds of “friends”
and dozens of daily friendly encounters,
that the real stuff of friendship,
I am lucky to share with only a handful of people.
And we’ve decided to talk about Friendship this term,
as we noticed more and more students lamenting the lack of depth of friendships
often being formed in this place.
For you incoming students,
this may seem like blasphemy.
But while Dartmouth is a good place,
full of great people and potential,
it is not perfect.
We work and study in what is, no doubt,
a rigorous academic climate.
In which serious questions and debates arise constantly within the classroom.
And, too, Dartmouth is an atmosphere with significant social possibilities.
While Pong is perhaps not my personal activity of choice,
I fully affirm that we must all find time for recreation and relaxation.
What’s troubling, however,
is the sense, coming at least from some,
that these two spheres remain entirely, eternally separate.
That serious intellectual and emotional engagement,
which as far as I’m concerned,
is a significant chunk of what friendship is really about,
is not, for everyone, the stuff of late night conversations,
and lunchroom dialogues.
Indeed, we’ve developed, across campus,
a series of groups and programs
to work explicitly within this context.
From one-time activities like OPAL’s “Crossing the Line”
which push existent groups to talk about serious issues,
of race, culture, class and religion –
to the Tucker Foundation’s new “reflection groups”
which bring new people together
simply to talk about what’s going on in their lives,
Dartmouth has clearly noticed this growing trend across campus.
And while I should perhaps be glad,
that I remain busy and employed on this front,
some of me is certainly grieved
by what I hear from various corners.
Because real, deep friendships,
Are wonderful, complicated and important things.
My own handful of real friends are people I laugh with often,
and have cried with.
People I argue with,
knowing they will forgive me.
People who I challenge, and am challenged by.
People with whom I need not wear my daily masks
of pretend confidence or joviality.
People with whom I can be who I really am,
and who draw the best out of me.
While we each have countless friendly interactions each day (at least I hope),
it seems to me those we count as true friends,
are marked by the following:
First, they are relationships based on shared interest or affection.
Friends are not family members,
at least not necessarily -
with whom we have a basic and lasting familial bond.
Nor are friends like spouses,
with whom we have entered a supposedly insoluble relationship.
Rather, friends can come and go.
They can begin anytime.
And they can end,
most often in my experience,
simply by moving or growing apart.
But those which last are based on ongoing interest, and affection.
Second, friendships are based in mutuality and choice.
They are not the same as counselors or professionals.
There is, perhaps, a sense of shared friendly duty,
but not a professional one.
And finally, real friendships, it seems to me,
are those which can stand a measure of conflict.
debates and disagreements are the stuff of excitement, interest and creativity.
And friendships are the places we learn how to productively deal with these conflicts.
What Theologian and Historian Martin Marty calls
“scrimmages of friendship”
where we learn tools and skills and productive means to push through and resolve.
These are the lasting friendships,
and they are hugely important relationships,
both to our well-being,
and to our development.
Mutuality – Solubility – and Conflict.
If these are the markers of true friendship –
How shocking, then, becomes this line from John.
“But I have called you friends.”
I suspect the disciples were not quite prepared
for Jesus to call them “friends.”
Students, perhaps.
Followers.
Disciples.
Lackeys. Hangers On.
Stooges.
But not friends.
Not a relationship based on mutuality, solubility and conflict.
One made of reciprocity,
And mutual affinity.
But there it is:
“But, I have called you friends.”
Marked in particular by that great word “but”
as in, “you thought it was one thing, ‘but’ it’s actually another.”
a word which suggests this cognitive dissonance,
the shock of such a notion,
was not lost in the writing and telling either.
And we must not forget,
that this is the Gospel of John we’re talking about here.
We may have different views or interpretation of John’s Christology,
as we gather today.
But I think we can safely assert that John took the idea of “God made flesh”
really seriously.
The light of the world.
The one from heaven.
Who speaks with divine authority.
The Son of God
And in this moment of high crisis,
on the cusp of Jesus’ betrayal and death.
And in a likely time of crisis for the community surrounding the Gospel writer,
John places on Jesus’ lips these words,
“I have called you friends.”
which we likely ignore more often than not,
in the face all the important stuff that surrounds it in John’s gospel:
love commands and
The vine and branches imagery,
and the world hating Jesus and his followers.
It’s a simple,
but profound notion.
I no longer call you servants,
but friends.
These imperfect,
often dense,
occasionally bumbling disciples.
These are Jesus’ friends –
Even, or perhaps especially, when crisis comes.
And we are left, I suggest,
to come to the conclusion,
that we are dealing here with a vision of God,
that wants partners,
not servants.
People who desire mutuality with God.
A relationship with a little bit of that productive conflict.
The stuff of good friendship.
We are quick to call God Father (some of us even mother).
Lord or Master. Sovereign or King.
But we are not so quick to call God friend.
Perhaps fearing that this will put us into a state of equality,
which would indeed be problematic.
But there’s little sense of equality, per se,
in Jesus’ relationship with his disciples.
There is no doubt that Jesus was the giver,
and teacher.
The fisher of people.
The disciples were the learners,
and the takers.
But what we can hope for,
I think,
in thinking about God as friend,
is, as theologian Sally McFague says,
maturity.
In thinking about God as friend,
rather than parent or Lord,
the ultimate goal is not fulfillment of duty or obligation.
But rather mutual fulfillment and joy.
And this is something to which we can indeed aspire.
God has called us friends,
we lowly humans.
This is the very meat of incarnational theology,
that God dwelt among us,
and called us friends.
If we feel called to be disciples, followers.
Christians.
And there’s much there to live up to.
Much to explore and challenge.
To debate and learn.
But we get to do so out of joy, and love and appreciation.
Instead of dutiful obedience or guilt.
A final thought, for today…
When we do get around to thinking and writing about God as Friend,
many of us,
myself included,
seem to fall into an easy trap,
of assuming that developing the Friend-God relationship
is something which must happen one on one.
Ironically, it would appear that when we turn to God as Friend,
we are most apt to lose the sense of the importance,
of those friends gathered around us,
on Sunday morning,
or Thursday afternoon.
Or in the classroom.
Or late at night in a residence hall conversation.
Our seeking after God as friend
is not meant to replace human friendships.
Nor is our love of human friends,
meant to replace our seeking of God.
Rather, I suggest,
we must find ways to allow them to be mutual.
To push and be pushed by human friends,
to discuss issues of ultimate significance,
and lasting meaning.
To find people who force us to ask serious,
thoughtful, theological questions.
About life and purpose.
And to seek through and with those people,
the ultimate source of meaning and purpose,
which we call God.
and whom we may occasionally refer to,
as friend.
