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Morality is what happens between friends. It is not the whole of the moral life, but there can be no moral life without it. Friendship stands not just as a single virtue, but also as the relationship by which people become good.

Paul Wadell, Friendship and the Moral Life

Answer the following question: What makes me who I am?

How many of you answered with “my family,” “my friends,” or “my partner”?

Many of you probably answered a different question than the one I asked. Did you list the names of family, friends, or coworkers? If so, the question you answered is “Who makes me who I am?” rather than “What makes me who I am?” Such answers reveal an interesting fact about how we define our identity: We are naturally more likely to define ourselves based on “who” we know rather than “what” we do. The source of our identity is more often a “who” than a “what.” In other words, we are defined by our relationships more than our actions. This is the basis of a philosophy of friendship.

A Cultural Identity Crisis

Unfortunately, our culture encourages us to define ourselves based on “what” we do rather than “who” our friends are. Think about the experience of a college student: How often do you hear students asking each other the questions “What is your major?” or “What do you want to do when you grow up?” Now, think about the working young adult: How often do you hear the question “What is your role?” or “What do you do for a living?” These questions reflect a popular ideology to which most of us implicitly adhere. It says, “You are defined by what you do, what you study, and what job you have.”

In the short term, this ideology can result in many positive things. It can help us achieve high levels of success in the business world, marked by promotions and raises. We may build upon our talents or attain financial stability. The act of “doing” can help us get a house, a white picket fence, and a dog that barks until the neighbors complain.

But in the long run, without relationships, friendships, or community, we will never find fulfillment. Based on this realization, it is important that we break away from the popular ideology of “what” we do and instead consider “who” our friends are.

The first step is to recognize how we define our identity as young adults. We must define ourselves, at a granular level, based on our relationships. The band Family and Friends sings, “I am a collection of the places I’ve been, the people I’ve known, my relationships, and my family, my friends.” Their music captures the true essence of identity: Every person we meet impacts our lives. That impact, whether it is positive or negative, will stick with us. Over time many of these relationships may grow into a web of relationality, known as a community. As a result, we are no longer defined by one relationship, but by many. Identity grows as community grows.

For many of us, the college years are integral for the development of personal identity. For instance, many of the opinions that we’ll hold for the rest of our lives are formed during this period. Our senses of humor will be molded around the jokes and stories that we hear each day. Our use of language and ability to communicate will take shape around the activities in which we participate. As the college years pass, we will learn at an increasing rate how each component of our personal identity, in some way or another, is rooted in the relationships that we make and the conversations that we have.

The same applies to a community made in the workplace. Simple relationships between coworkers can bud into lasting friendships. A cubicle conversation, or a word in passing, can turn into beers after work or basketball on Saturday mornings. A simple invitation to lunch can lead to expressions of vulnerability and trust that help us learn more about ourselves and each other.

We can see, in the examples of college life and the workplace, that community is the foundation for personal identity. Yet we quickly learn that the process of finding a community takes time and energy. Some friendships are made in the first week of college or a new job, then slowly fade throughout the following years. Or random conversations between strangers turn into lifelong friendships. We may refer to this phase in life as “searching for an identity” when, in reality, we are searching for friendship.

Throughout this chapter, I’ll encourage you to think about friendship in a new way and reflect upon it at a deeper level.

Why?

Friendship is one of those interesting topics that isn’t normally discussed. It evades our reflection because it occurs so naturally between us and others. We tend to take it for granted and, in general, most of us would choose to hang out with friends rather than talk about our friendships. Most of us would choose to hang out with friends rather than talk about our friendships. But if we accept that we are defined by our relationships, then it only makes sense to reflect upon these relationships. We can learn a great deal about ourselves (and our identity) when we come face to face with our friendships, the communities we have formed, and the communities that have formed us. Our purpose is clear: We must try to label and understand the communities that give us our identity.

Join me as we answer the question, “With whom do you drink?” We will quickly see how much of an influence, both constructive and destructive, one friend can have on another.

You’ve Got a Friend in … Aristotle?

Aristotle’s Nicomachean Ethics is a text commonly assigned by philosophy professors and is universally accepted as one of the most foundational texts from antiquity. Saint Thomas Aquinas cites it countless times. Catholic ethics draws upon, and elaborates upon, many of the ideas that Aristotle introduced. Among Aristotle’s ideas that resonate with Christian thought are his reflections on the human soul, the gift of human reason, and the process of discernment that we must use when we make a moral decision. These are traditionally understood as “philosophical” topics — the type that can put many of us to sleep. Then he explores a topic that isn’t traditionally grouped with ethics and philosophy: friendship. According to Aristotle, ethics and friendship are intimately bound together. Ethics and friendship are intimately bound together. This connection is worth exploring in detail.

Aristotle proceeds to break down friendship⁶ into three groups: friendships of usefulness, pleasure, and virtue. Understanding each type of friendship will help us reflect upon our own friendships and, as a result, our identity.

Friends of Usefulness

Creating a LinkedIn page is a common practice for most young adults. Career counselors are quick to emphasize the benefits; each “connection” functions as a foot in the door for a potential employer. We can endorse one another and share information through a seemingly infinite network. The possibilities are endless.

But wait, there’s more! The entire human race can become a network of potential connections that can be useful for business growth or financial success. Our list of “connections” might start out with middle-school classmates, family members, or that random guy we met in a coffee shop. It then grows to “connections” with those we’ve never met: a coworker’s former coworker, a cousin’s current boss, an employee across the world who worked with a neighbor. We can judge our connections based on their ability to introduce us to more people or opportunities. In the end, the goal is success.

I invite you to think about this question: Would you say that you are friends with each “connection” on LinkedIn? Probably not. Does this mean that you should delete your account and boycott the service? No. We all know that these connections are not negative, per se. But it is important to realize that these “connections” do not constitute what most people would define as a strong friendship.

A vice-presidential candidate offers a perfect illustration of this type of mutually beneficial “connection.” Presidential candidates will carefully appoint vice-presidential candidates during an election season based on who will represent a pool of voters that the presidential candidates don’t reach on their own. The decision is a political move that has repercussions for each party involved. This “connection,” a friendship of usefulness, is mutually beneficial.

A similar type of contract, albeit unspoken, is visible on a college campus. Certain friendships are made early in the year that are beneficial for students. Crafty students will seek out the overachievers in a class and will try to gain access to their study guides in the days leading up to an exam. Underage students will befriend the floormate who owns a fake ID, or has an older sibling, to get their hands on a case of beer. We quickly learn who we must know in order to gain access to a particular party. These friends are beneficial as long as they get our names on the list.

Friendships of this kind are good only as long as they are useful, which means they can be discarded just as quickly as they are made. An employee can be fired in an instant. An acquaintance made during the first week of college can be unfriended in later years. For one reason or another, a good number of our friendships remain at this level of usefulness.

Friends of Pleasure

The term “friend with benefits” might come to mind when we see Aristotle use the phrase “friendship of pleasure.” Interpreting Aristotle in this modern way, however, would be inaccurate and an oversimplification of what he meant. He used the term “pleasure” to refer to any activity that causes enjoyment. Pleasurable activities, both romantic and platonic, form the basis upon which many of our relationships are made. Most meaningful relationships begin as friendships of pleasure.

Let us compare “pleasure,” a synonym for enjoyment in Aristotle’s thesaurus, to the philosophy of dating websites. Behind every successful dating website is a complex web of algorithms that determines compatibility based on the hobbies and interests of each member. A “match” is made based on shared activities that are enjoyable for both parties. The first date normally includes one of these common activities. Matched couples will go bowling, hiking, or simply meet over coffee.

People feel more comfortable spending time with a stranger when there is a shared activity. Consider planning a first date or a party: The itinerary normally revolves around an action. The simple acts of getting together for coffee, a meal, or a beer fall under this category. Most actions done in a group have a similar goal: enjoyment. Groups form when multiple people receive enjoyment from the same activity.

These groups can be a powerful source of identity. Students sign up for clubs, intramural sports teams, or service fraternities because they know that the club will plan activities. Coworkers will join volleyball leagues or prayer groups. The club exists to help the members come together.

Often all is well within the group until the members run out of things to do. Problems are prone to arise in a group when the shared activity reaches completion or is removed. Players on a pickup basketball team return to their respective apartments after the final buzzer. Parties are broken up and groups disband when the keg runs dry. In general, friendships of pleasure can easily lapse into confusion in the absence of a shared activity. Friends must start another activity if they want to stay together without things becoming awkward.

One community in particular comes to mind when we talk about shared actions among young adults: the gathering of friends for the sake of drinking (a.k.a., a party). In conversations among young adults on a Friday afternoon, the question “What are we doing tonight?” is the anthem of the weekend. Drinking alcohol is a shared activity around which many students and young adults gather because the convivial effects are conducive to pleasure. The ritual of the weekend begins with purchasing alcohol, continues at a party, and ends when the alcohol runs out.

Yet, the simple goal of pleasure can easily be abused when a deeper goal is absent. Friends become pleasure-seekers, focusing only on the enjoyable effects of the alcohol. They support one another in this quest for pleasure. It is no wonder that this pleasure can quickly turn into drunkenness; drunkenness results from our unquenchable thirst for pleasure. Drunkenness results from our unquenchable thirst for pleasure.

One way to deter someone from seeking a certain type of pleasure is by presenting other, more pleasurable experiences. For example, we may avoid drinking to the point of drunkenness if we want to avoid a hangover. We may abstain from overeating because we do not want to feel sick. That said, the desire to enjoy physical health, while it might be successful in deterring some from drunkenness, is not in itself sufficient for everyone — for some, getting drunk becomes the only goal worth striving for.

As noted above, gathering for the sake of a pleasurable activity has limitations. These limitations can be summed up in the thought of social justice advocate and renowned spiritual writer Jean Vanier. Vanier founded L’Arche, a faith-based community in which individuals with mental/physical disabilities live together with individuals without mental/physical disabilities. He contrasts two different groups that may form when people gather: collaboration and communion.⁷

According to Vanier, collaboration means “working together for a common goal.” Think about the common goals that are shared at the gatherings you attend. These goals can be constructive, such as working together, learning together, serving at a food pantry, or cheering on a sports team. Or they can be destructive, like a violent mob trying to attack a target. In both cases, Vanier would say that the downside of collaboration lies in the fact that we can gather without “really caring for each other or being bonded together in love.”⁸ According to his definition, even a constructive gathering can share a set of nondestructive goals that are not rooted in love.

The language that Vanier uses to define collaboration is identical to the language that we have used thus far to define a friendship of pleasure. The relationship is uncanny. With this in mind, we can confidently say that a friendship of pleasure is the result of collaboration. A common goal is shared: the pleasure itself.

We can readily observe the logic of collaboration in our relationships. Gatherings can be as innocent as a crowd at a basketball game or a potluck shared at an apartment. The common goals are entertainment, or laughter and happiness. But we also see parties where binge drinking is encouraged. We hear about riots that break out at the end of sporting events, resulting in injury and property damage. In these cases, the common goal, originally a positive thing, has become destructive. At the end of each collaboration we are left to decide whether the goal is achieved through constructive or destructive means. Collaboration allows for both construction and destruction.

Vanier is keenly aware of the dangers associated with these meetings of pleasure (collaborations). In response, he proposes a second type of gathering. This proposal is not altogether different from the first one. Rather, it is a transformation of what we have defined as “collaboration.” This transformation takes and rearranges the elements of collaborations with a greater purpose in mind. Most important, it avoids the potentially destructive results of pleasure.

This second type of gathering is a community, drawn from the root word “communion.” A community, in its truest sense, is an interconnected and interdependent network of individual communions. Each person shares a particular bond with the others, which, as a result, strengthens and supports the entire group. Vanier explains, “Communion is bonding, caring, and sharing which flows and find its fulfillment in celebration.” Friends who enter into a communion care deeply about fulfillment and celebration (Chapter 4). They care more about their friends’ searches for fulfillment than their own selfish searches for pleasure. They put their friends’ needs before their own needs.

This bit of wisdom from Vanier has set the stage for Aristotle’s third type of friendship. Vanier, like Aristotle, knows that each type of gathering can be transformed into something greater. Both realize that humans can move beyond mere usefulness or pleasure into a communion of true love. According to Aristotle, the bond of this communion is not usefulness or pleasure. It is virtue.

Friends of Virtue

On a rainy afternoon in Belfast, Ireland, two religious leaders met for a drink at a local coffee shop. Clad in their respective religious garb, they received questioning glances from onlookers who raised eyebrows and peered over their cups of coffee. For the citizens of Belfast, this was an unusual sight.

That day, Reverend Steve Stockman, a Methodist pastor, and Father Martin Magill, a Catholic priest, shared what would be a life-changing cup of coffee.⁹ The two men met, as representatives of their respective traditions, to engage in an important dialogue. The purpose of their dialogue was clear: to address the hatred that was plaguing their city. The cultural atmosphere was as dense as the air outside; deep religious tensions between the Catholic Church and Protestant churches still existed in their country.

Reverend Steve and Father Martin set out to clear the air. They desired communion.

Their journey began with a shared interest in reconciliation and the hopes that it could turn into concrete action. Amazingly, their hopes morphed, took shape, and turned not only into action, but into an entire gathering! That day the idea of an annual festival was formed, the “4 Corners Festival.”

The 4 Corners Festival began with the goal of “Bringing Belfast Together.” The name of the festival was adopted from a poem written by Reverend Steve, titled “4 Corners of Belfast.”¹⁰ It tells the story of a city where households, industries, and religions are separated by invisible borders. Each community claims a corner of the city without a care for their neighbors. Religious divisions from decades past plague daily life.

Division was the stimulus that caused Reverend Steve and Father Martin to act. Their friendship, at the beginning, was based simply on their shared goal. It was, in the words of Vanier, a “collaboration.” It wasn’t until later, during the creation and implementation of the festival, that their friendship transformed into a “communion.” Their shared goal, rooted in the desire for reconciliation and embodied in the festival, transformed as their friendship transformed. Friendship and festival transformed in tandem.

How would Aristotle describe this friendship? We can find an answer in the conclusion of Reverend Steve’s poem mentioned earlier. It states, “May we move from institutional peace to the shalom of God.”¹¹ Friends of usefulness or pleasure would simply be content with “institutional peace,” or the absence of anger. They would be fine with an agreement for tolerance. But we know from the story above that Reverend Steve and Father Martin did not stop there. They did not settle for mere neutrality. Instead, they worked toward transformation. They did everything in their power to transform the tensions of Belfast into the “shalom of God.”

The story of Reverend Steve and Father Martin is a helpful introduction to virtuous friendships. Their example teaches us two qualities in particular. First, the positive aspects of our friendships of usefulness or pleasure are not discarded once we enter into a virtuous friendship. They are simply transformed. Second, the fruits of our virtuous friendships are not restricted to the two friends alone. They will naturally spread to anyone within reach.

One Virtue to Rule Them All

It is apparent how, in the words of Paul Wadell, theology professor at St. Norbert College, “every friendship is identified by the good which joins the friends.”¹² We have seen how friends of usefulness and pleasure are identified by use and pleasure. We have also been introduced to the virtue that helped form the friendship between Reverend Steve and Father Martin. Next, it is important to define what specific virtue (yes, there are many virtues!) defined the friendship between Reverend Steve and Father Martin.

Looking back, Aristotle relied on the virtues that were popular in his time — justice, temperance, fortitude, and prudence — to describe the bond shared between two friends.¹³ We can see how the virtue of justice was the initial glue between Reverend Steve and Father Martin, based on their interest in the community and the desire to dispel the hatred between religions. But we can sense in the poem a deeper, underlying virtue.

Recall the memorable line from the Lord of the Rings trilogy: “One ring to rule them all.” Similarly, the theology of Thomas Aquinas introduces “one virtue to guide them all.” The virtue of charity, often translated as love, is the bond that outlasts all other bonds. Saint Paul, in his letter to the Corinthians, explains, “So faith, hope, and love abide, these three; but the greatest of these is love” (1 Cor 13:13). It holds together a friendship in moments when other virtues are abandoned for other goals. It is here that we must part ways with the philosophy of Aristotle and dive deeper into the realm of theology.

The virtue of charity is important because of its source: the Trinity. God is love, and the three Persons within the Trinity are a communion of love. The love between the Father and the Son is the most perfect love that exists, so perfect that it is a Person — the Holy Spirit. This perfect love does not exist only within the Trinity. It plays an important role in our lives and is experienced in our friendships as the virtue of charity. According to Aquinas, “We have [charity] neither by nature, nor as acquired, but as infused by the Holy Spirit, who is the love of the Father and the Son.”¹⁴ Therefore, we experience the virtue of charity in our friendships when we participate in the same type of love that is shared in the Trinity.

Our friendships are elevated to friendships of virtue when we open ourselves up to the work of the Holy Spirit. But what does this process look like?

It is much simpler than you’d expect.

The Journey of Friendship

Even after the friendship between Reverend Steve and Father Martin and the 4 Corners Festival received global recognition, they both described the entire movement as a simple, organic process. It started with coffee and continues over coffee. We can apply a popular mantra to their situation: “The journey is more important than the destination.” Friendship is not defined by the destination (awards and recognition) but by the journey (coffee and conversation).

It is evident that the transformation of a friendship does not happen quickly. We should not expect to be swept away to a mountaintop to witness a great transfiguration. Instead, we should acknowledge and appreciate each ordinary moment. Our friendships will grow when we pause with the other person and reflect upon the times we allowed the Holy Spirit to push us at each moment during the journey. By growing more attentive to the Holy Spirit, we can better welcome the push in the future. Much like in the example of the festival, the friendship between Reverend Steve and Father Martin was transformed into the shalom of God (a friendship of virtue), which began in the shared desire of institutional peace (the friendships of usefulness and pleasure). They allowed the Holy Spirit to push them through the virtue they shared.

In our friendships, our initial goals (use and pleasure) can also become transformed by the Holy Spirit into a virtuous goal; this goal of virtuous friendship is fulfillment. In fulfillment, the two previous goals are still active, but only as byproducts of fulfillment. Neither of these goals is intrinsically immoral, but they are far from constituting a lasting or fulfilling friendship.

This somewhat abstract theology is easier to understand when we observe our own relationships. Think about a person with whom you share the sentiment “I love you.” My wife immediately comes to mind for me. Who is this person in your life? I start by reflecting on the relationship I had with my wife before we vocalized the love (charity) that we shared. We did simple things together, such as ride bikes to the lake, walk around farmers’ markets, drink coffee, and thrift-shop. Now we just sit in old, worn chairs, devoting our love to each other and sitting in perfect harmony. Just kidding! We still do all the same things that we did before. But something has changed. These activities have been transformed. We drink coffee and thrift-shop with a shared understanding of each other. We still seek out the goals of use and pleasure, but not as our ultimate end. Our end is fulfillment, or, according to Aquinas, charity; and the more we strive for the goal, the closer we become.

Our new goal is unlike the previous two because it cannot be achieved in its entirety. It is impossible to say, “Now, at this very moment, I have become virtuous.” While we are still citizens of this earth (unlike the type of fulfillment we will encounter when we are united in true charity with the Trinity in heaven), fulfillment is not like the destination of a journey, where friends can eventually arrive. Instead, we learn from the philosophy of Alasdair MacIntyre, renowned professor of philosophy at the University of Notre Dame, that “the good life for man is the life spent in seeking for the good life for man.”¹⁵ (Recall, “The journey is more than the destination.”) We become virtuous in this life by trying to be virtuous, and we are pushed farther when we allow ourselves to be pushed. We become virtuous in this life by trying to be virtuous, and we are pushed farther when we allow ourselves to be pushed. Similarly, we become charitable when we seek charity. Virtue begets virtue. On this virtuous journey, we learn that we must remain attentive to the movement of the Holy Spirit in each small moment in daily life. This is more effective than spending every minute dreaming about some abstract destination. So take the first step in this journey. Remember that trying to be virtuous is a sign of true virtue.

How #1: Plan and Execute a Road Trip with Friends.

Turn to page 148.

A brief word of caution: A common reaction after reading this chapter may be to discard the first two types of friendship and seek only friendships of virtue. I imagine that Aristotle and Aquinas would advise against this. They explain how each type of friendship has some varying degree of goodness. Recall how Aristotle chose to use the word “friend” for all three relationships. He knew that friendships of usefulness and pleasure are good up to a certain point. They can be useful for the progress or success of one or both parties. They even help us experience pleasure. But they are trumped by a friendship of virtue. Especially one that is guided by charity.

Friendships of virtue include elements of the other two friendships, but have a different goal. Virtue transforms the fruits of usefulness or pleasure. It leads to long-term fulfillment and participation in eternal love rather than short-term enjoyment.

The Sacrament of Virtuous Friendship

The journey of virtuous friendship starts with small steps. Let’s discuss a theology of these small, seemingly ordinary moments in light of some extraordinary moments. According to the Baltimore Catechism, a “sacrament” is traditionally defined as “an outward sign instituted by Christ to give grace.”¹⁶ At a minimum, the various Christian churches generally recognize two sacraments. At most, the Catholic Church and the Eastern Orthodox churches propose seven sacraments. Despite the number we believe to be correct, most Christians agree that God’s grace is not confined to these moments alone.¹⁷ We must ask, “What ordinary moments in our lives are sacramental?”

Loosely speaking, we could say any communal activity that is rooted in virtue and reflects the grace of God can be defined as “sacramental” (take note here of the lowercase “s”).

Catholic sacramental theologians scour the books of Scripture to identify the moments in which Jesus instituted each one of the seven Sacraments. During this search, they often overlook the smaller moments in the life of Jesus when the Holy Spirit bonded the friendships between the apostles. For instance, Jesus formed a group of virtuous friends who came to share in his mission. They walked, ate, drank, and talked with him. These same activities — walking, eating, drinking, and talking — are sacramental when they are transformed within virtuous friendships. These seemingly ordinary experiences are transformed just as our participation in the love of the Trinity transforms friendship. As virtuous friends we receive a number of new “sacraments”: the sacrament of friendship, the sacrament of table fellowship, and the sacrament of dialogue.

These sacraments also confer grace to anyone who is lucky enough to participate or be a witness. Think about the impact of this in light of the story of Reverend Steve and Father Martin. It emphasizes an important detail about how we understand friendship: The work between friends is no longer restricted to the secular world of usefulness or pleasure. It is central to the spiritual life! Jesus’ community of disciples is the ultimate example of sacramental friendship for all of us to follow. It is also a sacrament that we can share with Jesus, our friend.

Furthermore, the way we think about the sacrament of friendship is unlike the way we think about the other Sacraments. For instance, many Christians put the Sacraments on a pedestal. They emphasize their deep, seemingly unattainable, spiritual significance and forget about the simple physicality that is necessary for each one. We tend to focus on the saving power of Baptism rather than the water that is instrumental in bringing it about. We emphasize the presence of Jesus in the Eucharist and forget about the elements of bread and wine. In each example, we tend to forget that each sacrament requires a “visible sign,” some physical item, to accompany the “invisible grace.” It is important to ask ourselves, “What would happen if we looked at the Sacraments with a holistic approach, looking at both the ‘visible sign’ and the ‘invisible grace?’ ”

A sacramental view of life can help us break free from our restricted understanding of theology. Jesus teaches us, through the Sacraments, that spiritual realities are dependent, during our time on earth, on physical realities. Scripture reminds us that Baptism is dependent upon water. The Eucharist is dependent on bread and wine. Confirmation, Holy Orders, and Anointing of the Sick are dependent upon oil. The spiritual graces are dependent upon the physical symbols to act as vehicles of grace.

A restricted view of the Sacraments can be detrimental to the way we experience the world around us. It is hard to recognize the sacramentality of other experiences when we put the seven (or two) Sacraments on such a high spiritual plane. Many of us are convinced there is no reason to look elsewhere for God’s grace if we believe that the Sacraments contain the fullness of grace. “Why bother with these trees when I have the Eucharist?” “Why bother with friends when I have been saved by the water of Baptism?” This mindset has become a limiting factor for many Christians.

It is important, as friends, to encourage one another to recognize the grace of God in both the Sacraments and the sacraments. Friendship is a good place to start.

* * *

We can all agree that the organic development of friendship is more prone to happen around organic substances: food, coffee, and beer. Coffee houses, restaurants, and bars can be seedbeds for virtue. Yet the presence of alcohol is not a requirement for friends of virtue (even though it may be heralded as a helpful “social lubricant”). In the previous types of friendship, alcohol was the object of desire that made a person useful or a conversation enjoyable. Friends of usefulness were kept around as long as the connections they provided us to alcohol or parties were strong. Friends of pleasure drank together, since doing so was enjoyable for everyone involved. Friends of virtue may still do all these things, but only as a byproduct of seeking fulfillment and the virtue of charity.

We have seen how simple conversations about shared ideals can lead to revolutionary movements. Small actions can have massive repercussions, and a few minutes spent discussing the flavors of a particular beer can become a few hours spent mulling over the complexities of all that life has to offer. If we want to experience these fruits of friendship, we must go out into the world and open ourselves up. We must get up from our armchairs and sit at the bar.

But a word of warning: We must be careful!

Friendships are risky.

Mirror, Mirror, on the Wall

Society labels free-climbers, cliff-divers, or other extreme sport enthusiasts as risk-takers. Why? These people share one thing in common: They put their physical well-being on the line for a few moments of exhilaration.

I must disagree with this popular definition of “risk” and say that friends of virtue are the real risk-takers. Each time we make a virtuous friend, we take a risk. Each time we make a virtuous friend, we take a risk. Friends do not risk their physical well-being. They risk their emotional, psychological, and social well-being.

Being a friend of virtue means opening ourselves to the possibility of being changed by our friend. This process of vulnerability begins by viewing the friend, in the words of Paul Wadell, “like a mirror.”¹⁸ We come face to face with ourselves when we look at our friend and, in this moment, we become vulnerable to recognizing our faults.

Think about the last time you looked into a mirror. You either saw what you wanted to see, projecting a set of invented hopes and desires on the reflection. Or you came face to face with reality. You saw things as they really were, imperfections and all.

Friends perform the same function as a mirror: They are mirrors into our deepest self. Sometimes we project a set of personal hopes and desires onto the friend. We expect them to act a certain way or say what we want to hear. Thomas Merton — author, mystic, and Trappist monk — described this situation: “We too avidly seek to find, in our friends and in the things we love, a reflection of our own superior excellence. But we are always disappointed.”¹⁹

On the other hand, if we allow it, our friends can show us who we really are. The friend, a true “other” and not a “reflection-of-me,” can change us in unexpected ways. At the same time, true friends also pull us out of our focus on ourselves. When this happens, we are able to see behind all the ideas we hold about them. They are no longer who they “should” be, but who they truly are and who they have always been. Seeing our friend as a unique being, free from our control, opens up the possibility of true, virtuous friendship.

A new friend can influence us in one of two ways: He can help sustain our growth of virtue or he can perpetuate our growth of vice. Virtue begets virtue. Vice begets vice. If we are open to it, a friend of virtue can show us our gifts and also help us discover the areas in which we need to improve. Such a friend, according to Aristotle, is “another self” that helps us uncover our true self, flaws included.²⁰ Whereas friends of usefulness or enjoyment support our selfish search for success or pleasure, friends of virtue help prune our faults while watering the roots of virtue.

Friends of virtue willingly come face to face with the areas where each of them excels and where each needs to grow. This reality check does not arise out of the selfish desires of either party. It is not a projection or a “reflection-of-me.” Rather, our friend holds us to the same level of virtue as she would expect to be held in return. Friends of virtue take seriously the Golden Rule: “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.” They share the same set of criteria: “How can we help each other embody the virtuous life that leads to fulfillment?”

As we have all experienced, the process of selfrealization — coming face to face with the areas in our lives that need improvement — tends to be a painful process. Many people avoid self-realization because of this very fact. We prefer comfort over discomfort. We prefer pride to humility. Pride is the comfortable coat that protects us from showing our true skin, and we apply a thick layer each time we project a desire onto another person or onto our very self. Hiding from this deep self is an unfortunate yet familiar tendency.

Humility is the virtue that counteracts the vice of pride. It is the spiritual act of stripping ourselves bare before the reality of each situation. The Latin root of the word humility, humus, means “earth.” The humble friend is down-to-earth, undergoing a constant barrage of reality-checks. They are always conscious of the way things truly are. This means accepting that you are right when you are right and wrong when you are wrong. Humility means accepting reality, no matter the situation.

In sum, we can say that the friend of virtue earns the label “risk-taker” because of her humility. She risks being shown that she is wrong when she looks into the mirror of her friend. But she knows, deep down, that the risk of being wrong is outweighed by the reward of a virtuous friendship. The growing pains of friendship are nothing compared to the joys of fulfillment.

* * *

Many people think that friends of virtue simply restrict one another from drinking to excess. This is not always the case. It is more common for friends of virtue to encourage one another in fulfilling ways.

Here are a few examples of how friends of virtue can help improve the drinking experiences of one another. We can encourage the consumption of artistic craft beer over domestic beer (Chapter 2). We can allow the conversations to oscillate naturally between surface-level topics and deep discussion. Finally, we can remind one another about the reason why we are celebrating (Chapter 4). The phrase “Whoa, slow down” is replaced with “This craft beer is incredible; try this!” or “I am so glad that we can celebrate your new job!” Friends of virtue hold each other to a higher standard of fulfillment, and their gatherings reflect it. Friends of virtue hold each other to a higher standard of fulfillment, and their gatherings reflect it.

How #2: Go on a “Friend-Date” with a “Friend-Crush.”

Turn to page 150.

Before moving on, it is important to ask the question, “Who teaches us how to drink?” In the next section we will explore the role that mentors play in the lives of students.

The Tipsy Leading the Tipsy

Many professors reminisce about the days when they would meet students at the local bar to continue the conversations that began in class. Office hours overlapped with happy hour, and students grew in their ability to dialogue about difficult topics in a casual setting.²¹ But the sheer act of drinking with an adult taught students more than any of the words that were spoken. They were given the opportunity to observe a master-apprentice relationship.

The system of master-apprentice was the common structure of education in Greco-Roman antiquity. People learned a trade by following in the footsteps of a master. A vast number of trades functioned in this manner, including sculpture, rhetoric, architecture, acting, and philosophy, to name a few. Students followed a particular teacher and aided him in research or writing. During this process, the masters could talk only so much about a topic before the apprentice had to try his own hand at the art. Apprentices learned by acting rather than mere discussion.