My husband and I have always been very social people. We like our home to be busy and welcoming — the kind of place that people feel comfortable dropping into without an invitation and without fanfare. Our children have been heard describing our house as a train station, and not always in a complimentary way.
But that is how we like it, and as we have grown more mature and (I hope) less worldly, our social engagements have become not only more numerous but of better quality. These days we not only want to bathe in the warmth of human connection, but we want all our activities to leave us, and our friends, in a better spiritual state. In short, we consider every occasion an opportunity for apostolate.
If that sounds puritanical and boring, let me assure you it is not. Apostolate is perfectly compatible with a glass or two of wine, as well as moving the sofa and coffee table to make room for dancing.
Over the years, we have come to believe that there are no spiritually neutral encounters. Every interaction, no matter how brief, leaves the participants a step closer to heaven or the opposite pole. So that in the hands of a Christian, social occasions where opinions are exchanged and minds meet to duel or agree are of eternal importance.
Imagine a dinner party full of clever conversation and interesting personalities. But the overall tone is cynical, the details gossipy, the comparisons invidious, the themes shallow and coarse. The guests will go home with hearts a little harder and minds a little darker. They will walk away, if not in sin, then more likely to slip and fall into it when the enemy extends a tantalizing offer.
Now imagine the opposite: a lively and cheerful dinner where the absent are talked about affectionately instead of being torn limb from limb. Where hard experiences are brought up, not to be sensational but to bring hope to others. In this good gathering, you won’t hear boasting or people being condescending — but you will see them treating one another courteously, sincerely, and generously. Almost anything can be talked about, even the most complex subjects, when it is done with sensitivity and decency.
From this dinner, the guests leave better than when they entered, and a step closer to the kingdom of heaven.
Besides gathering the right combination of people around our table and steering the conversation into happy channels, we have made other experiments in our apostolate of friendship. Recently, we launched one under the title “Cocktails and Commandments.” This one has been tremendously successful and has a spin-off and a waiting list.
We invited 10 couples to our house for a bimonthly happy hour featuring a full bar and a short talk on one of the Ten Commandments. Then we moved on to open discussion of keeping the Sabbath, or honoring father and mother, or what it means to covet a neighbor’s goods. There is a huge thirst, it turns out, for serious and thoughtful discussion about the most important things.
Every one of those couples, just like my husband and me, are facing the daily difficulty of ordering their lives aright, understanding their true responsibilities, and rising to meet them. In our discussion, we treat the Commandments as the enabling principles of a meaningful and noble life in which man exists in proper relationship with his Creator and those around him. The couples have begun to understand the Commandments not as a set of arbitrary rules but as a gift from a loving and attentive God who knows his creatures and what will make them flourish.
Ideas, stories, and questions fly across the room, and the conversations are fascinating. One short “Thou shall not…” statement is packed with layer upon layer of meaning. In the allotted hour and a half, we barely scratch the surface of each happy rule. There have been beautiful moments in which someone, with great simplicity, shares their own experience of the peace that comes from forgiving a difficult father, or someone else tells of their desire to put the Lord above all things and how impossible this is to achieve. We help one another and encourage one another. We leave the gathering better — much better — than we entered it.
Perhaps you are thinking that it must be a stodgy and boring set that would sign up for Cocktails and Commandments. To the contrary! These are fun people, just like your friends and acquaintances. When you treat your social life as your apostolate, I promise that you will enjoy yourself more, not less. And you may gain heaven in the process.
