Is Lying a Sin?

I have often wondered why the commandment about lying is not formulated directly, imperatively, like the ones before it. We say “Thou shalt not kill” (the Sixth Commandment), “Thou shalt not commit adultery” (the Seventh Commandment), “Thou shalt not steal” (the Eighth Commandment). There is no room for any ambiguity. In the same way, the Ninth Commandment should have been “Thou shalt not lie,” right? But then why was it given to Moses as “Thou shalt not bear false witness”?

Lying of any kind brings harm, however small, to one of our fellow brothers. Are there, however, times when avoiding or concealing the truth does greater good—and, therefore, the end justifies the means?

Let’s give an example. A former political prisoner confesses how, when interrogated by the forces of communist Securitate in the 1950s, he said that he did not know a certain citizen X. In fact, he did know X. However, he knew that, if he said as much, that person would have been arrested and tortured as well. Through a lie, he thus saved a man's freedom and, perhaps, his life.

Or say that a man has had a hard day at work. His job is difficult and it brings him no joy, but it allows him to support his family. At the end of the day, his wife asks him, out of habit, how his day was. Our man could vent to her, tell her how miserable he is, etc. But complaining won’t do him any good; it will simply make his wife unhappy. Instead, he simply says: “Not bad. Yours?”

Technically, the husband is telling a lie. And yet, by doing so, he spares her unnecessary suffering. Through a small lie, he accomplishes a greater good: he keeps the peace in the family that evening.

We learn about the abbot who saw one of his disciples making a mistake in some matter. The other monks asked the elder if he was aware of the young man’s failure, but he denied it. What is more, he took that mistake upon himself. The abbot thus lied twice. But the good deed of love was greater than that of telling the truth at all costs, and the guilty disciple learned a more precious lesson from the deed of his father.

Lies or truth are not considered what we say, but what we intend to be understood—not what comes from the mouth, but what comes from the heart.

Nicolae Steinhardt speaks, in his book The Journal of Joy of a woman who had a very faithful maid, who, when her mistress did not want to be disturbed, had to tell the unwanted visitor that the lady was not at home. Because the maid was faithful, she asked her mistress not to force her to lie, so they found the following formula: the mistress was to leave the house into the garden, through a back door, and the maid was to tell those who were looking for her that “the mistress is not in the house.” The poor visitor would not notice the unfortunate conjunction or suspect that the maid did not really know how to speak correctly. The visitor would then, of course, leave. In this way, the mistress of the house would avoid the visit, and the maid would avoid the lie.

This story shows us another state of things: we can technically tell the truth (the mistress was not actually in the house), but the intention is to be a lie. What constitutes a lie is not what we say. It is what, from the very beginning, we intended to be understood.

A lie can also be an exaggeration of the truth—for example, exaggerations on a resume. Someone says, “I have carried out a rich activity in the musical field.” It sounds good, but it is so vague that it smells like a lie. What did he do, exactly? Did he sing, alone or in a band, conduct an orchestra, composed music or just sold tickets at the door? It is ambiguous and can mean anything. Or maybe that is precisely the author’s intention: to impress a potential employer without telling him (or so he thinks) a lie.

Lies, like truth, do not depend on words, but on the honesty of the one who uses them. Let us not shy away from calling untruth a lie. But let us not forget that, above truth and lies, there is the Truth, which is our Savior Jesus Christ: “I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life” (John 14:6).

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