Last Sunday in the first of the series of sermons this Advent on friendship, we reflected on the enduring nature of true, spiritual friendship.

Well, we can’t talk about true friendship without also talking about feelings. We may initially associate feelings of peace, joy, love with friendship. But sooner or later conflict arises in all relationships. The conflict arises from strong feelings in our hearts, including anger.

And often underneath the anger lies a deep sadness, a grief, from a sense of injustice. So, lots of strong feelings flow through us often clashing and erupting all around us like a surf pounding on the shore in high winds.

How do we grow in relationship where we can express honestly our feelings to another? Do we have friends with whom we can lament, who will listen and who will engage our feelings with us? How can we learn acceptance of what is, in the context of a trusting relationship, and move forward?

John the Baptist was one of the most colourful characters in the New Testament. He is mentioned in all the Gospels as the one who prepares the way for the Lord. But he’s a pretty rough, messy kind of guy. We might know him to be piercingly direct if not unrefined in his communication style.

In Matthew’s account, he yells at the Pharisees calling them “a brood of vipers”.[1] His insults thrown aggressively, John the Baptist was definitely not a people-pleaser. He was not afraid of confrontation.

Reflecting on John the Baptist, I wonder if good friends only appease one another all of the time? Or, will a friend also challenge you from time to time, speak the hard truth? I wonder if deep down what we seek in a lasting friendship is authenticity. What are some of his characteristics that made John the Baptist authentic in how he came across?

Two characteristics stand out: First, he was not attractive in a worldly sense. For example, he did not dress according to the norms. The gospel writer goes to some detail to show this. John the Baptist did not conform to the expectations of one who would herald the Messiah. One could even question, on that basis alone, his credibility for that messenger role.

It’s not how he appeared on the surface; rather it’s what he did and what he said that attracted others. It was his heart, his mind, unfiltered and real.

It is not about what makes us attractive to the world that forms the basis of our faithfulness. God wants our hearts to shine. God wants us to be authentic, “Just as I am” goes the gospel song.

And if we will talk about attracting people, we need to remember another characteristic of John the Baptist that comes through in this gospel: Not only did he know his role, he knew and respected his limits. People aren’t attracted to control freaks who over-function. People aren’t attracted to those who make it all about themselves all of the time.

John the Baptist knew, using modern day parlance, his ‘boundaries’—where he began and where another ended; and, where he ended and another began. He understood it wasn’t all about him. He had an important job, to be sure; he had a part in the great odyssey of God’s story.

But he understood that life wasn’t about him; rather, he was about Life. He was about something bigger than him. Therefore, he knew when to stop, and hand over the torch.

Being authentic is not about people-pleasing and trying to do it all. It is about being true to yourself, and about knowing and behaving in ways that communicate you are part of something bigger than yourself.

This past summer when I attended the Christian Meditation retreat in France, at Bonnevaux Centre for Peace, I went with a group of Canadian Meditators from all across our country. However, the Canadian community ran into some problems after the first day at Bonnevaux.

You see, there was one sacred rule: Silence. There were scheduled times and designated places for silence during the retreat: At the noon hour meal, and coming to and going from the main hall, for example.

But we were so excited to be in person together after only seeing each other online for many years. So, as you can imagine, there was much talking and laughter even during times we were asked to be silent—we obviously broke the sacred rule.

The leaders of the core community challenged us. I could tell early on they were upset, even angry, that we continued to talk during silent times. We had to work through our feelings on both sides, justified positions. But we did. Our relationships grew deeper as a result. We knew, by the end of the experience, that holy silence introduced us and connected us to something important together, something much bigger than our private, individual desires even when we weren’t always good at it.

Friendship is more than coziness and warm fuzzies and like-mindedness. A friend gives what is hard to give, does what is hard to do, endures what is hard to endure. A friend doesn’t abandon you nor looks down on you when you make mistakes, when you open your heart in all honesty and vulnerability.

The disciple, Peter, is another colourful character in the New Testament. Peter and Jesus endured a lot together. Yet, at one point in their friendship, sparks flew. Jesus turned and said to Peter, “Get behind me Satan! You are a stumbling block to me!”[2] It’s hard to believe, just reading this one verse on its own, that Jesus and Peter were friends.

But true friends they were. Not only did their friendship endure over time, but their friendship was forged on the anvil of healthy conflict, of getting through the rough patches, together.

Peter, even though he had a falling out with the Lord, was given the “keys of the kingdom”. Peter, even though Jesus called him “Satan” for misunderstanding the Lord, is the person on whom Jesus would “build my church”.[3] Jesus and Peter are good models for us.

Christianity, because it is founded on relationships, is a social religion. You can’t do Christianity by yourself. Practising our faith in a group is essential to personal growth. In community, the holy space that we share and hold together in prayer and song, word and sacrament, opens up regions of our hearts previously unexplored. Friendships in faith don’t endure because they are always ‘nice’, and no one ever fights.

A point of clarification: Conflict, disagreement, differing points of view do not, in the end, define the relationship. Because there is an underlying faithfulness and commitment to the friendship, to the community and to God.

Nevertheless, difference and disagreement don’t need always lead to division and break-up. Sometimes it does. But I think in the church just as big a problem we have are these assumptions that everyone needs to agree all of the time and always be the same type of people and always be nice to each other in order to belong.

There is room in a community of faith and healthy friendships to experience moments of conflict. And working through those disagreements is a hallmark of friendship from faith’s perspective.

“Will we be friends?”, even though we are not alike, even though we don’t come from the same ethnic background, or grew up in the same country or share the same skin colour? “Will we be friends?”, even though we disagree over politics and our favourite things. “Will we be friends?” Again, admittedly a rhetorical question. Of course, we can.

But rather than see conflict as an obstacle to true friendship, let’s see conflict as a tool to deepen and grow not only our friendship but each of us in our personal lives. Because sometimes the Lord comes to us in situations rife with conflict, as Jesus did the first time, in Bethlehem. God’s not afraid of conflict. Jesus didn’t deny nor avoid it.

In the coming weeks as we ponder Jesus’ birth and the coming of the Savior to the world, let’s not forget the context. It was a pretty messy 1^st century Palestine. But Jesus will come into those spaces and places of unrest and disruption, even in our own lives today.

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[1] Matthew 3:7-12

[2] Matthew 16:23

[3] Matthew 16:17-20