The Gift of Friendship

ALICE VON HILDEBRAND

Catholic News Agency

December 27, 2015
Which one of us would not agree with Schiller who, in his Ode to Joy,
writes that he who leaves this earth without ever having had a real
friend, should leave crying. One of the glorious lights in a universe often
darkened by sin, treason, and lies is friendship. My husband referred to
love as “a remnant of the earthly paradise.” He is right, but I suggest that
this should be extended to include friendship.

Yet it is a sad fact that we all know people who have never had a friend.
One possible explanation to this tragic deprivation is a cynical one:
because the world being evil, true friendship is impossible. But the cynic
should not forget to include himself in the long list of potential traitors.
Moreover, one cannot but have the feeling that he savors an evil joy in
his condemnation of true friendship.

Another possibility is to acknowledge that those who have never tasted

the sweetness of real friendship are responsible for this severe lack
because their approach to others is essentially “calculating:” “How can I
make sure that I will get more out of this relationship than what I myself
shall invest into it?” Pragmatism is poison to friendship and kills it in the
bud. Tragically while always calculating, the pragmatist is caught in his
own game and is the victim of his “mathematics.” His down to earth,
crawling approach inevitably blinds him to the beauty of generosity. A
clever approach to finances is poison in human relationships.

Any real friendship is an “uncalculating exchange of gifts;” each one of

us has his own talents, and true as it is that in friendship there is an
exchange of gifts, they cannot, no they should not, be measured. The
word “uncalculating” is crucial because what one friend gives to the
other will inevitably be widely different from what he receives from his
friend. My husband was one of the most generous men in giving his time
to others, never turning down a request for advice or intellectual help.
But no one who had any knowledge of his personality would have
dreamt to ask him to make a package and bring it to the post office. He
would have accepted, but there is every chance that he would have
forgotten it or absolutely certain that the post office would have turned
down the package because of its being sloppily packed. A friend might
have a greater wisdom, another a sharper mind, another again be
keener in legal and financial matters. The list is long: one cannot
compare the gift of wise advice with a financial loan. One should not
compare them: any type of calculation is to introduce a deadly germ in
friendship. It is worth remarking that if we ask a carpenter to make a
table, it is a matter of course that he expects remuneration the amount
of which is set in advance. But how many friends, having given much of
their time to listen to the human problems that a friend is facing, and
giving him a sound advice, would send a bill: “I gave you two hours of
my time.” This is the difference between a psychiatrist and a friend.
When a person praises himself because of his generosity toward a
friend, we might fear that the friendship is sharply on the decline. This
does not exclude the possibility that some, alas, are “business” friends,
and that one day we will inevitably become aware that they are about to
drop as soon as they found another “who performs better” and is
therefore a “better deal.” Aristotle mentions “business friendships.” I
personally would deny such relationships the noble name of friendship.
Understandably one will shift from one dry cleaner to another if
experience teaches that the latter is more efficient and cheaper.

Much has been written about friendship and understandably so: it

should play a key role in human life; if one were to make an anthology of
the beautiful things that have devoted to this topic, we would have an
impressive volume. This applies to all languages and all cultures. The
first thing that comes to mind is to distinguish between love and
friendship. The first refers exclusively to the love that can exist between
one man and one woman, and is by its very essence impossible
between two persons of the same sex. It finds its fulfillment in marriage.
This type of love is the most complete, the most “perfect” possible. This
is why when a girl consecrates her virginity to Christ, we can speak of a
spiritual “marriage;” that is, a total self-donation, a total “revelation”
expressed by the word: “I know her; I know him.” Dietrich von
Hildebrand has labeled this type of relationship: “I-Thou”; eye to eye;
face to face. One could rightly object that God alone truly knows us in
this total sense of the word—this explains why St. Augustine, shortly
after his conversion, was asked the things that now truly concerned him:
his answer was “Noverim me; noverim te” (I would know you [God]; I
would know myself)—implying that to know God will shed light on the
mystery that man is. Without God, and in spite of all the help of Freud,
man will remain, to a great extent, a mystery to himself and to others.
This was a first stage in St. Augustine’s conversion. As his religious life
matured, he made beautiful contributions to love and friendship having
meditated on the sublime meaning of Christian love. To truly love God
gives us a golden key to human loves—they are loved in God.

Of course, our friends also “know” us: for friendship is based on the
perception of the beautiful traits that one has discovered in an individual,
but, as mentioned, man is multifaceted, and it is quite possible that we
know certain features of a friend even though our knowledge is only very
partial. If the friendship grows and develops as a friendship should, the
friend’s beauty will become more and more visible. If knowing is
“unveiling,” the latter is humanly fulfilled only in the privilege case of an
ideal marriage, and up to a degree in every noble and sublime
friendship.

Not only is spousal love possible except between a man and woman
based on a complementariness, but this completion is already
powerfully expressed in the very structure of the male and the female
body. Moreover, by its very nature this love is exclusive—that is to say it
eliminates the very possibility that it is duplicated with another person of
the other sex. Friendship, on the contrary, is possible with not only
between persons of the same sex, but also with persons of the other
sex: there are great and noble friendships between two men and
between two women, but they are possible between a man and a
woman, even though it does not have the marks of spousal love.
Moreover, we can have great friendships simultaneously: each one of
them truly has the character of friend, but this does not prevent us from
having a multiplicity of them, each has its own beauty, its own
perfection. A botanical garden cultivates very many flowers which are
very different, but all of them have their own beauty; all of them are a
gift, even though there is a hierarchy of beauty among them—a lily is
more beautiful than a daisy. There can be great friendships mostly
based on a common love of God and his Church; there can be one
based on a common love of philosophy, of music, of art. Friends share
the same loves and as St. Augustine puts it, in their common love of
God, they warm their soul at each other’s flame. This is why any true
friendship will inevitably bring us closer to God—the Source of Love.
The bond is a common interest that is found in some value: the higher
the latter, the more noble the friendship. The question can be raised:
what about people who share the same love for sports, for legitimate
“fun”—musicals, entertainments, amusing plays which trigger a
legitimate laughter, etc. I personally would prefer to use a word like
comradeship than friendship, but if some insist that they relationships
also deserve to be called friendship, let it be. But it should be obvious
that the higher the sphere of values that unites friends, the nobler and
deeper is the friendship. (It should be noted that anything bordering on
immorality is a radical obstacle to friendship—two vicious men, two
perverse, two haters of God cannot possibly be friends. They fight on
the same front, but not only cannot love each other, but moreover, deep
down they inevitably hate each other.)

Many of us are blessed with several friendships, which, far from being
antagonistic, can even enrich one another. Conflicts can arise only if a
friend always gives priority to the time spent with a friend who shares his
passion for dramatic and exciting literature, over a friend who shares his
spiritual and intellectual pursuits. Whereas it is inconceivable that a
great love between man and woman aiming at marriage is coupled with
several similar attachments. Even though it is possible when one of the
conjoins has left this world, that his or her place has thereby been
vacated—even though we all know cases in which love has been so
profound that it excludes the possibility of having a substitute.

Now that we have hopefully succeeded in showing the divide between

friendship and spousal love, let us try to analyze its main features.

As a parenthesis, it is worth remarking that Aristotle dedicates two books

of his Nicomachean Ethics to friendship. At first, it might be surprising,
but we are indebted to him for having drawn our attention to the fact that
any true friendship inevitably calls for key moral qualities. True
friendship, by its very essence, excludes unfaithfulness, selfishness,
treason, to mention some of the most obnoxious. This is clearly the
reason why Aristotle gives friendship such a prominent place in his
ethics. It is also worth remarking as David Ross does in his book on
Aristotle, that we find words in these two books that challenge Aristotle’s
basic claim that the “good” being what we all desire, and that we all
inevitably desire happiness, “eudemonia” should be declared to be the
highest good; whatever we do if we are intelligently motivated, is to
pursue our happiness. Quite apart from the fact that the word
“happiness,” like the word “good,” is ambiguous (How many people
would agree on what they consider to be a key to happiness?).
But then Aristotle faces a difficulty: should not a friend be loved “for his
own sake,” and not only because of the very many benefits that are
essentially linked to friendship? How is one to explain the selflessness
of Antonio toward his friend Bassanio? For obviously his decision to lend
him a huge sum of money, and his accepting to lose a pound of flesh if
he fails to repay it on time, is an act of generosity which will strike an
outsider as sheer madness. Yet, it is not the only case found in life or in
literature in which a man sacrifices himself for his friend, for “there is no
greater love than to sacrifice oneself for one’s friend.” But if a person
loses his life to save his friend, can’t it be said that he loves his friend
more than himself?

It should also be obvious that friendship implies “sharing” this embraces

a very wide field: not only as Antonio to share his wealth, but to share
whatever matters to one’s friends—this implies his joys and his sorrows.
A French cynic has remarked that whereas friends easily share the
other’s griefs, they can, at time, fail to share his joys as warmly: for alas,
if a friend received a benefit denied me, to rejoice for him might be
accompanied with, “I never have such blessings; he is the one always
getting them.” Concerning sorrow, griefs and trials, the friend finds
himself wounded and in a weak position, and then it is “easy” to be
compassionate. It is however worth while to quote the Frenchman Jean
de Rotrou who wrote, “L’ami qui souffre seul fait une injure a l’autre”
(The friend who suffers alone is in fact insulting his friend). There are
some friends who believe—to my mind erroneously—that to share their
sorrows is to put an unfair burden on their friends. True as it is that some
sufferings are very intimate, very personal (usually spiritual—the dark
night of the soul—or sufferings caused by betrayals and relating them
would seriously implicate others). It belongs to the very nature of love
and friendship that one wishes to share. “What burdens you, grieves
me.” Even if one cannot help, one can show one’s sympathy and pray.

Aristotle’s treatise on friendship is an interesting case in which a great

thinker corrects his “philosophy” thanks to the wealth and beauty of
personal experiences. The basic direction of Aristotle’s philosophy is
clearly intellectual; let us recall that he declares the intellect to be the
supreme human faculty; even though he pays some attention to the will,
but he leaves little room for the heart and affective responses. In this he
widely differs from Plato who calls love “the greatest of heaven’s
blessings.” (Phaedrus) Can’t we infer that Aristotle having tasted the
sweetness of a great friendship, and because friendship implies
selflessness, realized that there was a serious discrepancy between his
philosophy and deep human experiences, and tried in some indirect
fashion to correct it? He must have realized to a certain extent that his
eudaimonism was not doing justice to some very crucial facets of human
experiences. If happiness is indeed the greatest good, it inevitably
means that whatever relates to my personal advantage should be given
top priority. He who truly loves knows that it is not the case. Love is
sharing: he who refuses to share disqualifies himself as a friend. This is
expressed in Spanish proverbs: “Esta es tu casa” (This is your house)
are the words uttered when a friend pays one a visit. And another, is
equally expressive: “El amigo que no presta y el cuchillo que no corta,
que se pierdan, poco importa” (The friend who will not lend, and the
knife that will not cut, if you lose them it is of little consequence). He who
lends lovingly rejoices in doing so is conscious that it is a privilege to be
given a chance of proving that one truly loves one’s friend. That some
abuse of other people’s kindness is to their own loss. Assuming that
they have “made a deal” they are actually depriving themselves of the
sweet debt of gratitude. Blessed are the grateful should be added to the
list of the beatitudes.

This leads me to a key perfection that characterizes both love and

friendship: trust. This word is a gem and sheds light on the deepest
human experiences. “I believe” is an act of trust. No human relationship,
be it love or friendship, can survive if the “trust” that one had given to
another person, is sapped and ultimately destroyed. Great works of
literature give us rich examples of both “treason” and admirable acts of
the victory of trust over the “temptation” to mistrust another person.

How could one of the greatest literary genius of all times, Shakespeare,
omit to dedicate some of his great tragedies to this crucial question in
human relationships. In the narrow frame of this article, I shall only
briefly refer to two of his tragedies: Othello and Cymbeline. In both of
them, a husband is sorely tried because he is the victim of vicious
intrigues aiming that destroying him by making him doubt the
faithfulness of his wife. The better known is Othello, which begins by
giving us insights into his deep and reciprocated love to Desdemona.
But alas, his genuine love for this lovely female creature is not safely
doubled by trust: that is to say, for whatever reason, he is accessible to
calumnies. It is difficult for us to “forgive” him because the intimations
that the vicious Iago brings against her (her pleading for Cassio’s
forgiveness), and the handkerchief is found in his quarters, taken in and
by themselves are not “proofs” of her unfaithfulness. She on her side is
naïve: it does not occur to her wildest imagination that her pleading
might be interpreted as motivated to her love for Cassio, and that the
fact that a shawl is found is, once again, in no way a “proof.” The fault is
to be found in Othello; he is the guilty one because of his lack of trust.
How many of us, alas, lose faith in God because of some trial that he
sends us. On the supernatural plane, we hear some people say: “How
can one believe in the goodness of someone who permits that we have
to carry a cross?” Once his trust in her truthfulness and purity is cracked,
inevitably one thought will lead to another, until he reaches a stage of
rage that leads him to accuse the innocent and lovely Desdemona to be
a slut and worse. We know the tragic end.

It is difficult for the reader to “forgive” him. A similar situation arises

in Cymbeline: once again, we have a similar scenario; a great love. A
tragic situation separates husband and wife, who, heartbroken, promise
one another faithfulness unto death. Once again, we have the scenario
of a vicious and despicable character aiming that breaking the heart of
the husband, by giving him “proofs” of the treason of his wife. But in this
case, Iacomo—a match for Iago in viciousness—sets a more refined
trap: not only does he manage to steal Imogen’s bracelet—a gage of his
love for her from which she has solemnly promised never to part—and
moreover, having managed to hide in her bedroom, he is given a
chance, when she slightly uncovers herself in her sleep, that she has a
small mark on her breast. Iacomo’s proofs are truly “convincing:” what
else is needed to prove that he has slept with her? How many husbands
under such circumstances would still refuse to mistrust the faithfulness
of their wife? Alas, Posthumus is human and believes that his sweet
Imogen has betrayed him. We are relieved that the end does not
duplicate the one just alluded to in Othello. But these two tragedies
challenge us to try to shed more light on the crucial element of trust in
love and in friendship. If a friend starts doubting a friendship without the
slightest proof, but does so on mere appearances that the friend has not
even been informed of, this is a sad indication that the doubting friend is
sinning against the genius of friendship. In other words, if one suspects
a friend—and someone with whom the bonds of friendship has deep
roots in the past—who has acted or made decisions that are not
understood, surprising or wounding to his friend, the first step that
friendship dictates him to give him a face to face explanation: he should
be told lovingly: “You have done so and so, you have said so and so,
you have failed to do so and so, this has upset me deeply because it
seems to be an offense against the precious gift of our friendship. Do
me the favor to explain a conduct which, to me, is incomprehensible,
and strikes me as incompatible with our friendship. I give you the credit
that there is a misunderstanding, and beg you to enlighten me.”

This being done, the friend is given an opportunity of shedding light on a

particular decision that he has made, and grant him a chance to prove
that neither is this decision an offense against this precious friendship,
nor even a reason to doubt it.

Not to give the friend this chance will, I fear, strike us as a serious
offense against friendship: it is shutting a door, without even listening to
the plea of the one who is knocking. There are cases in which friends
disagree when facing a sensitive and delicate human situation; but we
should always keep in mind that human life is complex. It is conceivable
that two very wise spiritual directors give different advice to someone
going to them for help and advice. When a pope makes a prudential
judgment, history tells us that sometimes it is wise, sometimes it is
unfortunate. In such cases the future will enlighten us, but unless we
have reasons to believe that this particular successor of Peter is, alas,
someone betraying his mission, we should give him credit that his
intentions were well meant even if unfortunate or imprudent.

In his great book on love, which my husband considered to be his opus

magnum together with Transformation in Christ, one of his most
beautiful contributions is, to my mind, what he calls repeatedly “credit of
love;” that is a lover or a true friend will give the other credit, even
though his acts or decisions clash with our own. Alas, there are cases in
human life when one can duplicate the words of the Gospel; “You of little
faith.”

Aristotle was right; friendship should be included in an ethics, for it

implies trust, forgiveness, repentance, and humility. Friendship is a
precious gift that should be kept in a jewelry box.