At a conference this past week, I had dinner with someone who shared a remarkable story with me about a seemingly chance encounter.
Rick was having dinner with a friend at a hotel bar. After dinner, Rick stuck around for some drinks and took up a conversation with an elderly African American man. Rick discovered his new friend Joe was eighty five years old and had lived an extraordinary and full life. He had fought in WWII, participated in the Civil Rights movement and had been friends with some pretty famous people.
With a long day ahead of him and the time nearing 10 o’clock Rick stood up to take his leave.
But Joe would have none of it and told him, “You’re coming with me.”
They hailed a cab, and Joe directed the cab to a local club. When they arrived at the club, it became clear that Joe was on his home turf. Everyone seemed to know his name. He didn’t even have to pay the cover charge. They sat down and had some drinks.
At one point Joe stepped away leaving Rick sitting alone at the table with his drink. Looking to the stage of the club, Rick was stunned to see his friend Joe on the stage leading a band and singing Jazz. Apparently Joe was a Jazz singer and a good one.
After the night ended Rick later discovered from the hotel bartender, that Joe was a regular, and that he always talked with different people and would invite them to a night of jazz.
When I heard Rick’s story, it totally blew me away. There was a kind of beautiful serendipity about it. Rick goes to a restaurant, has a few drinks and meets an extraordinarily spry older gentleman, who shares something of his life and in turn gives Rick a night on the town, treating him to a little music.
As someone who has worked in healthcare and business, my life is often about boundaries and about maintaining boundaries. It’s about safety and avoiding risk. As a Christian who made his home at a very conservative church, life was also all about boundaries. Life seemed filled with things I shouldn’t be doing. It’s fair to say that having a drink at a bar and going out with a total stranger would be one of those things I shouldn’t be doing. Moreover, if I were to meet a total stranger, shouldn’t I try to witness, give him a tract, or share my faith. In living this very safe and earnest life, I lost the capacity to make friends and to relate to people on a basic human level. The reason why, what happened to Rick would never happen to me, is because I would probably never let it happen to me. Moreover, if I was an eighty five year old man, I likely wouldn’t be meeting people and inviting them out on the town, I would be sitting at home watching television and eating cereal.
In hearing Rick’s story, I couldn’t help but think that there is a part of life, I’ve never experienced. I never experienced this part of life, because of fear and because I’ve been paying too much attention to boundaries and to what has become the most important word in my vernacular, “should.” My life sometimes feels full of the word “should.”
All of this left me feeling a little wistful, as if I should be less afraid, less concerned with boundaries, less concerned with being safe. I am not sure, whether it’s being intentional about meeting people like Joe, or whether it’s being open to chance encounters like Rick, but I would like to make these kinds of connections.
Implicit in the act of friendship is the need to take risk and to push the boundaries of where I feel safe. All of this reminds me how friendship is in itself an act of faith.
