The friendship which you portray is a bargain and not a friendship; it regards convenience only, and looks to the results.
Beyond question the feeling of a lover has in it something akin to friendship; one might call it friendship run mad.
But, though this is true, does anyone love for the sake of gain, or promotion, or renown? Pure love, careless of all other things, kindles the soul with desire for the beautiful object, not without the hope of a return of the affection.
What then? Can a cause which is more honorable produce a passion that is base?
I once knew a woman who had a small and tasteful tattoo on her arm that simply read “John 15:13”. My years of Catholic school had not gone to waste, so I was grateful to remember the reference:
Greater love has no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.
One evening, a loudmouthed fellow decided to grace her with his attention, and he seemed to think that asking her what it meant might win him some points. When she hesitantly told him, he used this as an opportunity to explain how worldly-wise he was. Us men often have an unfortunate tendency to not know when to shut up.
“Well, let me tell you, that sounds great, but there is absolutely no way you could pay me enough to die for anyone!”
Her response was priceless. “I’m sorry that you don’t have any friends.”
“What are you talking about? I’ve got lots of friends!”
“I do hope they’re not counting on you.”
Though the fellow was a buffoon, what he said is hardly an uncommon sentiment. At least he had the decency to be honest about it, unlike the folks who piously read words like that from their pulpits, and yet are nowhere to be found when the going gets tough.
What Seneca says here, and what so much of the world’s timeless wisdom tries to teach us, will seem quite ridiculous to those who think themselves so important. They are so busy accumulating that they cannot understand how life is something to be spent. They are so burdened by terms and conditions that they have made themselves incapable of loving.
Once I can find the profound fulfillment in giving of myself absolutely, and asking for nothing else in return, then all of those old bugbears are no longer quite as frightening.
Poverty? Things will come, and things will go. What a wonderful liberation, to learn that it was never about the things at all.
Exile? It hurts to feel rejected and shunned by others, until I recognize that who I am is not defined by their approval or disapproval.
Death? It will come to us all, sooner or later, and the only question is whether I will face it as a better or as a worse man.
Is this something like the power of romantic love, which can also consume us, and seemingly overcome any obstacle? I must distinguish.
Yes, in that the impassioned lover will give anything, without question, for the sake of his beloved.
No, in that the impassioned lover will still not be satisfied until he possesses his beloved.
By all means, let us gasp with admiration at the dedication and sacrifice of lovers, while being in even greater awe of how a perfect and total friendship rises even higher than that, by asking for no further reward beyond itself.
In complete friendship, there can be no bargaining over what is absolute, and no price too high to pay for what is inestimable in value.
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