The dreaded question: “Do these pants make me look fat?” What’s he to say to that one? Should he lie about what he really thinks? Should he tell you the full truth (even if he thinks they do make you look fat)? Or, should he say something in between?
Given the Lance Armstrong “confession” I’ve been thinking about this issue. It did give me a foray into the discussion with my kids but they asked questions that I struggled to answer. We all tell white lies, but when we do, are we being irresponsible? We tell lies about the Tooth Fairy and Santa Clause. to encourage our kids imagination – but they are still lies.
What about the other “little” lies. Like telling your boss that you have to leave early for an appointment and you really are going to a soccer game. Or what about the many (I’d rather not call them lies, I would rather call them protection-statements) … protection statements I’ve made to my kids about when I had my first drink, my first kiss, etc. Plus, I realize that I’ve even encouraged my kids to “lie” by suggesting, for example, that they tell a relative that they loved a gift that maybe they didn’t love!
Thankfully (for my current level of guilt), there are studies that say small white lies are ok (I feel weird even typing this). They are called “pro-social” lies and they help kids develop sympathy and empathy, both of which are important aspects of a child’s development. Yet, I am still struggling with when a white lie is not longer white. I watch some politicians tell lies and I am struck by how much they believe their own statements. I depose people who tell lies that have really become their own personal truth (this is part of my profession that I don’t like).
Here’s an illustration of my point:
A man who loses his bike outside his synagogue, goes to his rabbi for advice. “Next week come to services, sit in the front row,” the rabbi tells the man, “and when we recite the Ten Commandments, turn around and look at the people behind you. When we get to ‘Thou shalt not steal,’ see who can’t look you in the eyes. That’s your thief.” After the next service, the rabbi is curious to learn about the advice and asked the man if it worked. “Like a charm,” the man answers. “The moment we got to ‘Thou shalt not commit adultery,’ I remembered where I left my bike.”
Funny, sort of, but what does it tell us? How can we expect honesty when we are doing things that we shouldn’t do? This is the $64,000 question. We will never be able to stop people from lying. The thing we can do is focus on ourselves and our own internal code of conduct, which must be in order so we can each make our world a better – more truthful – place.
Have a great day!
theyearof50 