The Secret of Friendship

 

This past month America was struck by the news that Supreme Court Justice, Ruth Bader Ginsburg, had passed away at the age of 87. Justice Ginsburg, also known affectionately as “Notorious RBG”, was a hero in the fight for women’s rights and an icon of the feminist movement. As different publications reflected on her legacy of shaping the highest court in the land, a surprising, yet timely thread arose as one of the more endearing stories of her life: Ginsburg had a deep friendship with her former colleague, Supreme Court Justice Antony Scalia.

The two were antagonists on the court, Ginsburg representing the liberal wing of constitutional interpretation, and Scalia representing the conservative wing, with equal force and fanfare from his side of the aisle. Yet outside of their judicial and political battles, the two enjoyed one another, Ginsburg calling Scalia, “my best buddy.” They were known to spend holidays with each other’s families, regularly have family dinners, and attend operas together. (There was even an opera created that highlighted their differences of opinion amidst an enduring friendship, see video Scalia V. Ginsburg)

The story of Ginsburg and Scalia’s friendship reminds us of a timely truth: Friendship does not serve political ideology, it transcends it. Their friendship is a surprising story because it goes against the grain of our current political climate--and perhaps against the grain of our personal friendship groups. Their friendship is an endearing story because friendship that can withstand personal differences--preferences, personalities, ideologies--is something that we all desire.

Yet while we desire the kind of strong friendship we read about in our favorite stories (some of the top selling books of all-time--The Lord of the Rings, Harry Potter, The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe--are about friendship) we often feel our friendships are shallow waters, fragile bonds that can be broken at any point of disagreement. But why is this the case? I believe it is because we have redefined love as a whole, and friendship in particular, as a contract rather than a covenant. 

Contractual love starts with me, considering my wants and needs, and ends with the other person offering to fulfill my needs in exchange for their needs being met. Contractual love, by definition, objectifies the other person. Most of us would not actually consider this love at all. Covenantal love is quite the opposite. Covenantal love starts with the other person as the subject, considering their wants and needs, and ends with me promising to fulfill my relational responsibilities to them regardless of their ability to fulfill their responsibilities to me. We see this clearly in the covenant vows of a wedding: “For richer for poorer, in sickness and in health…” The groom and the bride vow that they will love the other person without conditions. Imagine if we took this covenantal approach to our friendships. No condition for you to be like me. No condition for you to agree with me. No condition for you to act like me or look like me. What depth of joy we would experience in the freedom of unconditional love: Free to be ourselves; free to serve with no expectations; free to journey together through life’s changing seasons. Covenantal love is the secret to our friendships.

It is no wonder, then, that Jesus Christ defined love’s greatest manifestation, not in romantic bliss, but in friendship: “Greater love has no one than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends.” (John 15:13) Ultimately, covenantal friendship is about dying to yourself for your friend because you love them more than your own life. Sometimes this comes in the form of physical death--as Jesus exemplified to the greatest degree--and sometimes this is in the form of dying to your own preferences for the sake of your friend. Either way, you will have found the secret of friendship: your reward in friendship is not what your friend offers you; your reward in friendship is your friend. As the Appalachian poet, Ron Evans, writes,

‘And if perhaps we're wise enough
We'll learn by journey's end
The finest of this life's reward
Is having found a friend.’

I believe Ruth Bader Ginsburg found this to be true by the end of her life. It was reported that hanging up in her office was not all the legal accolades and accomplishments she had accumulated over the years, it was the picture of her smiling on an elephant, with her friend.