My Friend Indeed

Part of what makes friendship so important is that our friends know us properly. Not the polished version. The real version. They know our strengths, our weaknesses, our odd habits, the things that make us who we are — and they stick with us anyway.

That is one of the great gifts of friendship: to be known properly, and still loved.

And a good friend does not only laugh with you and spend time with you. A good friend is also honest with you. A real friend tells you the truth when you need to hear it. They care enough to say, kindly, “Come on — you can do better than that.” A false friend tells you what you want to hear. A real friend tells you what you need to hear.

That matters especially in a school. School is obviously about lessons, exams and qualifications. But it is also about learning how to live well with other people: how to be loyal, how to be kind, how to forgive, how to include others, and how to stand by people when they need you.

Many Old Priorians say that one of the most valuable things their school gave them was their friends. And I think that rings true. Speaking personally, I still have friends from my own school and university days with whom I can really be myself — my authentic self, insecurities included. I do not have to pretend with them. They know me well, including the less polished bits, and they are still there. That is a very great gift.

So perhaps one good question for all of us is not just, “Do I have good friends?” but “Am I a good friend?”

Am I dependable? Am I kind? Am I honest? Do I notice when someone is having a hard time? Do I make space for people, or do I leave them out?

And that brings me to Jesus.

In one Gospel moment, we hear the simple words: “Jesus wept.” He wept at the death of Lazarus, his friend. That tells us something very moving: friendship matters to God. Human love matters to God. Grief matters to God.

But there is another line of Jesus’s that goes even deeper. He says to his disciples:

“I no longer call you servants, because a servant does not know his master’s business. Instead, I have called you friends, for everything that I learned from my Father I have made known to you.”

That is an extraordinary thing to say.

Jesus does not say, “I put up with you,” or “I make use of you,” or even simply, “I command you.” He says, “I have called you friends.” In other words, he invites his disciples into closeness, trust and love. He lets them know his heart.

And that is part of what makes Holy Week so powerful. As we approach the events of Jesus’s suffering and death, we do not see someone acting at a distance. We see someone who gives himself for those he loves.

In our hymn, My Song is Love Unknown, we have just sung the words, “But O my friend, my friend indeed.” I think that is such a moving line because of its intimacy. Jesus is not only the Son of God, not only a figure in history, but my friend indeed — the one who knows me, loves me, and gives himself for me.

That is what makes this verse so striking. Jesus does not only ask for obedience. He offers friendship. A friendship marked by truth, loyalty, sacrifice and love.

So as we move towards Holy Week, perhaps each of us might hold on to two thoughts.

First: be grateful for your friends. Good friends are one of God’s great gifts.

And second: try to be that kind of friend to others — loyal, truthful, kind and steady.

Because friendship at its best does not just make life happier. It teaches us how to love.

And in the end, that is what Jesus shows us. He does not merely talk about love. He lives it. He gives it. And he says to his disciples — and, in a sense, to each of us — “I have called you friends.”