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Your love between us

Sunday, December 15, 2019

From Isaiah 35
Strengthen the hands that are feeble, make firm the knees that are weak, say to those whose hearts are frightened: "Be strong, fear not. Here is your God, he comes to save you!" Then will the eyes of the blind be opened, the ears of the deaf be cleared, then will the lame leap like a stag and the tongue of the mute will sing!"

Rumors down the generations tell me that my great-grandfather, like William Holden in Hollywood, drowned drunk beside the road in a puddle of water. That was my grandpa's dad. It's Grandpa Brummer's birthday today. I think he would have been 120 years old today.

My friend Larry, two years older than me with a car and wonderful peaceful personality, helped me get my bearings at Valparaiso University. We met at our fraternity, Phi Sigma Epsilon (now Kappa). Soon we got an apartment together. I think he liked my adventurous, curious spirit. I liked his laugh, his incredible blue eyes that charmed all those girls, and his stability.

Some Phi Sig guys lived in a house they called Aeropagitica, named both for a 1644 John Milton pamphlet demanding free speech and expression, and for the defense Paul made of Jesus Christ to the Areopagus in Athens (Acts 17:18-34). We Lutheran students were required to attend chapel each day. We were also invited to challenge ideas and conventions from every angle we could find.

In high school I did not drink alcohol. Not even once. That changed at Valpo. Within days I'd discovered how to get sick drinking sangria. Not that I was a lush. Not exactly. But there was one Friday night when Larry and I went to Aereopagitica to a party, and somehow I got a pint of Bacardi 151 proof rum. Everclear might be stronger, but this stuff ... I drank it too fast, I'm sure. And I don't remember much else, except what my friend Larry told me the next morning.

Mostly, I just kept him busy. I tore down some drapes somewhere, he did tell me that, and he put them back up. Larry was laughing when he told that story. But I imagine how patient he must have been with me. Our friendship deepened, and today we are still friends.

Larry eventually became a pastor near his hometown in Indiana. He chose to be a helper and friend to a dying AIDS patient, more than once. His family has grown and flourished. His voice is quiet, his eyes strong, loving and still very blue, and he always finds a way to lift up the person he is with. For a few years, that was often me.

Aelred of Rievaulx wrote around 1150 A.D. of friendship. At times I have had this framed in our counseling and spiritual direction office:

Here we are, you and I,
and I hope a third, Christ, is in our midst.
There is no one now to disturb us;
there is no one to break in upon our friendly chat,
no man's prattle or noise of any kind
will creep into this pleasant solitude.
Come now, beloved, open your heart,
and pour into these friendly ears whatsoever you will
and let us accept gracefully the boon
of this place, time, and leisure.

Our pastor Greg shared eight steps that help him overcome his habit of worry. More important than anything was having three or so go-to friends who will drop everything and pray when you ask them to. Their umbrella of love covers a multitude of fears.

I was a little boy, and Grandpa Brummer was my friend. Happy birthday, Grandpa! Larry is my friend still. And of course so many many others. As friends we cover our mutual imperfections with love and mercy, thrive and live our lives as well as we can, give up more than we otherwise could, let God's love come crashing in.

Jesus and his cousin John, friends? Jesus and me? That song that my dad loved, "What a friend we have in Jesus." Lord when you put us in each other's path, give me courage to look into that person's eyes and know your love between us.

Aelred of Rievaulx, On Spiritual Friendship, Book One: The Origin of Friendship, page 1, AD 1150 (ish)



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