De verdad, y de amistad.

When I was learning English, our ESL teacher used to play movies for us, which we would later discuss, or with which we would interact. One of the movies I remember most vividly was “A Man for All Seasons”, about Saint Sir Thomas More’s confrontation with Henry VIII when the king broke with the Catholic Church. Once he set himself as the head of the new Anglican Church, the king demanded an oath of fealty from anybody who was anybody in England, especially those in positions of power. Having refused, More is locked up, pending execution. As the movie develops, many of those who had been his friends come to him, practically begging him to accept the oath and save his life. At one point, one asks (I paraphrase) “will you not do this for me… for friendship?” More’s answer was (I paraphrase again): “and when I go to hell for not having followed my conscience, will you go with me… for friendship?”

This brought up 3 questions to mind even back then, which I have not completely answered to my own satisfaction and which I would like to discuss with others to resolve. These questions (in no particular order of importance or appearance) are: 1) Does the following of one’s conscience determine the nature of sin? 2) What is the nature of friendship? 3) What is the interaction between right-and-wrong (if there is an objective approach to this) and friendship?

As I have grown up, I have approached these individually—fearing my inability to address/resolve them together. The more I learn, the less I understand. Any help in clearing these points would be greatly appreciated, as this is a serious issue for me, and one I’d like to resolve (if not definitively, at least satisfactorily) before I can ask the One who knows. To that effect, here’s what I got so far:

1) There are definite layers to the nature of acceptable behavior. Needless to say, intelligent behavior is what separates us from animals. Biologically-dictated actions (eating, breathing) are inherently beyond the reach of this conversation and only the context in which they occur can be reviewed for probity. Still, beyond the natural restrictions to self-destructive behavior (for example) there are legal, moral and ethical restrictions. I make no distinction between religious ethical and purely secular ethical restrictions—suffice it to say “beyond moral”—morality being the temporary, socially contextual framework in which a group evaluates its members’ actions. While certain sexual behaviors are considered morally acceptable sometimes in some places, others are universally considered harmful (i.e.: relationships between cousins vs. relationships between siblings—and even these not always). Legal restrictions, permissions or requirements are far more transitory and subject to the local climate at the time of inception. Sin, therefore, would appear to me to be entirely a matter of ethics, and not of morals or laws. This said, even divine writ is subject to the interpretations of “enlightened” individuals or groups—being catholic, I think of the church. Nonetheless, I still purport there are some people who have nothing better to do with their time than subvert holy writ to their own self-serving (albeit eloquent) intentions. Coming from a culture in which tradition often turns ideas into truths, I am skeptical of anything being branded a sin simply because it now bears the label. As dangerous as it is to trust situational evaluations or (however unchanging) my own perception, I’ve settled on the idea that I’ll know a sin when I see it. Two inherent problems with this idea are that I set myself as sole arbiter of goodness, and thus above scrutiny form others—and I’m not really that self-important—and that it is contrary to the idea that redemption can only be gained through the man called the Christ, but rather can be achieved on one’s own merits—and this contradicts my observations from the Bible (can’t seem to make my views universal when I’ve only had a catholic upbringing).

2) I am a firm believer in the idea that most of what we are is based on calcium bridges connecting dendrites in the soft crust of the brain called grey matter. That said, I still hold a firm spiritual belief in the idea of a soul, and its transcendence over the merely physical nature of the vessels we use while on this planet. The first would lead us to believe we create friendships out of custom (exposure to the same individuals over time simply increase familiarity and breed friendship); the second doesn’t preclude the first, but expands it by suggesting pre-existing affinities based on shared “previous” experiences (together or separate). Either way, once the friendship exists, how do we quantify it? Can we quantify it? Should we? There are always people for whom we’ll do more than for others. I dare say that sometimes we might even find ourselves willing to make great sacrifices for people we hardly know (or not at all), based on some ethereal affinity. Some do these things for purposes beyond themselves—Gandhi? Mother Teresa? Some do altruistic things (for friends and strangers) for ultimately selfish gains (politicians serving meals at the mission on thanksgiving). Still others, like me, give a dollar to the homeless guy at the 7-11 only to momentarily shut up our conscience—call it a bribe.

But I think it is safe to say we do more for those we know, and even more for those for whom we care—friends, whether related or not. And I don’t think that blood is really thicker; I just haven’t seen enough proof of it. Friendship, then, is necessarily defined after the fact, based on anecdotal evidence, and only quantifiable when it is over. Fragile as a single flake of snow, enough of it can sink boats and block roads that lead away. Solid enough, it can split mountains in half, only to melt under the slightest fire. Subtle as the beating of one’s heart, one only really knows when it is done that it was there. Men have built kingdoms on its strength, and many have turned saints by its testimony. And yet, it is often so subtle and fragile, especially when viewed from the perspective of the previous point.

3) And now, to the crux of the matter. Being that right is often indiscernible from wrong, and that friendship is so difficult to understand from day to day, are there things that ought to be beyond the asking? Beyond the expectation? Can I ask a friend to do wrong for friendship? And if he does it, is it wrong for him? Asked in such simple terms, the question seems naïve or disingenuous. From time to time, I run into the internet description of friendship as: a good friend bails you out of jail; a true friend is sitting next to you, shaking his head, saying “f**k! we shouldn’t have done that!” And funny, irreverent and deliberately facetious as it may be, it begs the question of this post: “And when I go to hell, for not having followed my conscience… will you go with me… for friendship?”

Once again, I’m full of questions but have too few answers.

Help! I need somebody…