Holy Family Parish
Giving

Giving
Community

Are little white lies okay?

by Fr. Michael Rennier
Photo by Toa Heftiba on Unsplash

The more I live a life that I don’t have to lie about, the less I lie ... Aren't there basically three reasons we tend to lie?

What are the reasons we lie?

First, to avoid awkward conversations. I might lie about “how busy I am” in order to get out of a social engagement. I’ll say I was working when, in fact, I was watching television at home while mindlessly looking through work emails. If everyone else in a group is loudly in agreement about say, politics, religion, or the local sports team, I might pretend to go along with it because I simply don’t want to feel like an outsider.

Second, we lie to make ourselves look better. I have the uncanny ability to make myself the hero of the story I’m telling. I’m a great editor at making my role in the story sparkle. Everything I said was witty and pithy. I had just the right comeback when I was insulted. I was right about everything.

Third, we lie to avoid trouble. When I was a child, I would tell my mom I cleaned my room. Tell my teacher I did my homework. Tell the boss I finished the task. Claim that I ate all my broccoli (when in fact I’d hidden it in a napkin and put it in the trashcan).

The more I reflect on our motivations for lying, the more I think the vast, vast majority of lies are completely unnecessary and can completely be avoided without much effort at all. Awkwardness can easily be tolerated, we simply don’t care for it. Self-aggrandizement is a bad habit that, with some conscious intentionality, can be eliminated entirely from our storytelling. If the job is done correctly and the homework finished, we’ll be far more eager to tell the truth about the success rather than lie (no one lies and tells their mother their homework isn’t done).

Little white lies are things we say out of convenience and laziness. Fixing the latter goes a long way towards eliminating the former. The more I live a life that I don’t have to lie about, the less I lie. Of course, there are still some awkward moments, times when people don’t understand where I’m coming from when I decline an invitation or say no to an event, but I’ve found that the more consistently and transparently I draw my boundaries, the easier it is. For instance, I’ve let it be widely known that, as an early riser, I rarely accept invitations to events that go past 8:30 pm. It’s nothing personal; it’s just that I’ll fall asleep in my seat. I also find that, when I explain my decisions concisely and confidently, people are quite understanding.

Now, of course, a lot of people don’t see the problem with little white lies and question if this is even an issue to be concerned about. Small untruths make everything easier and, even if they’re simply for the sake of convenience, they go a long way towards smoothing over lots of potentially awkward social interactions and eliminate the need for drawn-out, tortured explanations.

Are these little white lies all that bad? The harmless things we say to get out of a dinner or family gathering, making ourselves seem busy, covering up embarrassment, or making a story more exciting ... what’s the big deal?

Also, what about the things we say to avoid hurting another person’s feelings? We lie and tell a friend that we love their newly decorated kitchen, the new outfit looks great on them, and so on. The unvarnished truth is often not polite and no one wants to hurt the feelings of those they love. Human beings aren’t wired to take pleasure in confrontations. We vastly prefer to get along with everyone, but is it worth it if the price is a constant stream of little white lies?

I really don’t think so.

Learning from the saints

Today is the feast day of St. Justin Martyr, and I’ve been reading about his explanation to the Romans about why the Christians would never tell a lie, even if lying was the only way to save their lives. He writes, “For it is plain that, though beheaded, and crucified, and thrown to wild beasts, and chains, and fire, and all other kinds of torture, we do not give up our confession.” In other words, no matter what persecution it caused, they would always tell the truth about their faith.

St. Justin proved the truth of his words when he himself was martyred in the year 165 after refusing to offer sacrifice to the gods at Rome. Rusticus was the Roman Prefect who ordered the Christians to worship false gods, and Justin explained to him, “No right minded person forsakes the truth for falsehood.”

Perhaps this scenario seems to surpass “little white lie” territory, but there were many Christians at the time who argued that this was precisely the situation. After all, sacrificing to a Roman god was nothing more than burning a few grains of incense before a statue. No big deal. The Romans didn’t ask anything further. For a Christian, it was an easy, small action that could later be shrugged away or denied. Anyone would have understood – burn a few grains of incense just to stay out of trouble. It was definitely a forgivable sin.

St. Justin refused. He believed that betraying the truth, even in a small way that was socially acceptable, went against his conscience. Lying is fundamentally unreasonable.

Holding fast to the truth, even in small matters, sets us free. It allows people to know the real us, our real thoughts and motivations.

From the Catechism

2482 "A lie consists in speaking a falsehood with the intention of deceiving." The Lord denounces lying as the work of the devil: "You are of your father the devil, . . . there is no truth in him. When he lies, he speaks according to his own nature, for he is a liar and the father of lies."

I still remember one night when we had a guest over for dinner. My wife had tried out a new recipe and, after we’d eaten she asked if I liked it. I told her, politely but truthfully, that I hadn’t cared for it. Our guest was astonished. Anyone would have found it understandable in that scenario to lie. But my wife and I have a deal – if I don’t like something she wants me to tell her. She doesn’t want to make me eat food I don’t like (of course, it’s vitally important to also tell her when I do like her cooking and to always be grateful, whether I've liked it or not).

In another scenario, I might not be so forthcoming. For instance, if I’m the guest at someone else’s table, I always compliment the chef. Is it a lie? We have to be careful, here. I file this one away under a nicety. In low-stakes social interactions, the goal isn’t always to share the unvarnished, devastating truth. It’s simply to be a good guest, to honor the meal you’ve been served, and say that you appreciate it. You don’t even need to lie and say it was good. Or perhaps "good" in your mind means that it was good for your health and nourishment. Simply thank the host for the effort and hospitality.

A similar example would be, when someone asks how I’m doing, more often than not I automatically say that I’m doing great. Why? Because the question is a ritual greeting that asks for a ritual response. Sure, I may have a problem on my mind, but sharing it in great detail isn’t the purpose of the greeting. It isn’t lying to say you’re fine. Now, maybe the conversation deepens later and you open up and share, but everything in the right time and place.

To me, the best way to avoid lying is to have answers prepared for common situations. A nosy person wants me to gossip? I don’t lie and say I don’t have the information but, instead, say they ought to ask the person directly. I can always find something to compliment or think of a positive response if I’m looking for it.

The key is always to be looking for the positives. It’s only when we’re uncomfortable, feeling awkward, or trying to avoid admitting to a wrong that we turn to lying.

Even if some argue that little white lies aren’t a big deal, their reasons for lying never quite add up. I think we can take our stand alongside St. Justin Martyr and always witness to the truth.