Truth as a Way of Communicating

Truth is a way of communicating with others

American lore prizes the “self-made man” but when you think about it, none of us is “self-made.”  We each exist because two people came together before our birth, and that was only the beginning.  We commute to school and work on roads paved by others.  We cook food harvested by others.  We hum tunes composed by others.  Whether we like it or not, each of us survives and thrives only as part of a wider network. From a Christian perspective, this arrangement is not happenstance; God intends it.  God made us to be in relationship with others, and only by being in relationship with others do we develop the capacities needed to become the people God dreams us to be: a people who can share a life of “communion” with God forever.

But let’s push that basic Christian insight one step forward and ask: What makes it possible for us to live together in community? What allows us to harness our individual energies around joint projects like road construction and food production and music making?  Communication.   

Each of us has a whole jumble of thoughts and feelings, experiences and acquired knowledge inside of ourselves.  “Every head is a world,” as the proverb goes.  But the rich internal life within each person remains a mystery unless able to be expressed.  Words—spoken, written, or gestured—open the door to what lies inside another.  And without words, our efforts to understand one another are often stymied. What parent has not held their crying infant at 2 a.m. and moaned, “I just wish you could talk and tell me what is wrong!”?  Words create bridges to worlds otherwise unreachable, and they enable us to do things we could never manage without them.

Our dependency on words is well captured in the ancient tale of Babel found in Genesis 11.   The people were trying to build a tower that would be as high as the skies when their capacity to communicate with one another became confused. As a result, they “scattered…over all the earth” unable to realize their plan (Genesis 11:9Therefore its name was called Babel, because there Yahweh confused the language of all the earth. From there, Yahweh scattered them abroad on the surface of all the earth.).  That tower could just as easily have been a school, a hospital, a television show, a financial industry.  Everything we construct as a society depends on shared information, which implies an honest relaying of what is going on inside of our heads.  If we couldn’t do so—or chose not to do so—we wouldn’t be able to get anything done together. Imagine trying to build a tower if the engineer couldn’t or wouldn’t communicate her knowledge of the weight a wall might bear.

The common root shared by the words community, communion, and communication is not coincidental.  The Latin “cum” means “with” or “together.”  From a Catholic perspective, the purpose of communication is to help us to build community so that we can experience communion.[i]   Sit with the gravity of that statement for a moment. Our ability to live in community—and ultimately that includes our ability to live forever in communion with God—depends on our using words as they were meant to be used: as a genuine indicator of what is in our heads.[ii] 

In an earlier essay, we talked about truth as having a mind aligned with reality.  Now we talk about truth as having one’s words aligned with one’s mind.   Thomas Aquinas makes a similar distinction when he distinguishes between veritas as an objective and veracity as a virtue that should be evident in all our words and actions.[iii]   The two are related, but not synonymous.  It is possible to have a mind that accurately grasps reality, but doesn’t share that information or shares it inaccurately.  It is also possible to be sincere and to speak transparently about what’s on your mind, while at the same time what your mind thinks is real is not actually real. 

If your mind is aligned with reality but you say something you know not to be real, that qualifies as a lie.  If you are sincere but not connected with what’s real—perhaps because you are ill-informed or missed a step in thinking something through or, in some cases, suffering from a mental illness—that qualifies as error. Sometimes, as a listener, it is hard to tell the difference:  Is this person lying to me? Or, do they believe what they are saying, though it seems off-base to me?  Both challenge a community’s ability to function well.

Because so much depends on truthfulness in communication, everyone should be concerned about the issue, and preachers in particular. The ministry of the Word that we pour our lives into as preachers is entirely dependent on words being able to be taken seriously—a point which I emphasize in the sample preaching that follows. When one emphasizes the importance of truthfulness in the current context, the message may be critiqued as “political” (a topic we will return to later), but truthfulness is a fundamental faith issue.  Christianity, too, stakes its survival on the ability of words to communicate.  We cannot avoid the topic for fear of ruffling feathers. 

Are we supposed to say everything that is on our minds?

How many times have you heard someone say something very harsh, followed by the justification, “Well, I’m just being truthful!” Practicing truthfulness as a virtue, however, implies far more than doing a download of every assorted thought in our heads.   Truthfulness means being careful that everything that comes out of our mouths is aligned with what is actually in our heads, but it does not mean that everything in our heads needs to come out of our mouths.

Thomas Aquinas acknowledges that any virtue taken to an extreme becomes a vice.  In his writing about truthfulness, he notes the danger of saying too much.[iv]  There are times when our words may be true, but they serve the purpose of making us look good or smart, rather than the building up of community.  In my own life, I can think of times when I’ve become very excited about an idea that strikes me in the middle of a conversation, but it sidetracks the conversation and doesn’t help the group do its work.  Worse, I can think of instances when I’ve shared what someone else thought had been said in confidence.   But Aquinas also notes the danger of saying too little.[v] Maybe because of low self-esteem or false humility, maybe because we want to hold information for our own benefit, maybe out of fear of repercussion, we don’t share what we know, even when it would be beneficial to others to do so.  I think of times when I’ve spotted a potential flaw in a plan but didn’t bring it up because I didn’t want to look foolish if I was wrong, or times I’ve been party to decisions that made me morally uncomfortable, but I didn’t want to rock the boat and so remained silent. 

Truthfulness lies between these extremes, yet the path is not always clear.   One person’s willingness to share their previous personal experience may come across as “TMI” to some, whereas another’s sense of appropriateness could be interpreted by others as unwillingness to “engage.” Aquinas helps us think through this tension by placing his comments about truthfulness within his larger chapter on justice.   Justice, as he describes it, is the constant effort to give each person in the community what they are due.[vi] In his mind, truthfulness fits under the category of justice because it is giving each person the information that they are due.[vii]  Judges, for example, have a right to the information needed to make good, well-informed judgments.  Health care proxies have a right to the information needed to make wise decisions around end-of-life care. 

When thinking in these terms, whether we should share information in a given situation sometimes becomes clearer:  Does the person need this information in order to do their job well?  In order to make a good decision?  In order to do what society has entrusted them to do?   If so, yes, we should share the information we have in our heads.  But giving a person only the information that they have a right to seems a low bar in relationships that we value.  Strong work collaborations, friendships, and marriages deepen only when there is a spirit of generosity, a willingness to give more to the other than what the other might claim as a right.  That includes more information. How do we know how much to say in these situations? 

Many of us would acknowledge that even in the relationships we care about most there exists a sizeable gap between what we really think and feel and what we will say aloud.  Gaps are understandable.  We all have experiences of times when we shared what was in our heads and it didn’t go well.  We spoke with sincerity and were made fun of.  We shared an opinion and another critiqued it or was offended.  We were honest about how we felt and it ended the friendship.  In these situations trying to be truthful with our words didn’t “build up” our relationships; it hurt them, and so as human beings who’ve acquired a few bumps and bruises along the way, gaps make sense.  The problem is that gaps can be dangerous to relationships as well. Relationships in which thoughts and feelings are not regularly shared over time drift toward shallow waters. For some relationships that might be fine. We may not care to get any closer to our letter carrier or pharmacist. But for relationships we value? Gaps can cause marriages to atrophy, friendships to fizzle. We start scanning for new job postings in our field.

Part of the reason relationships struggle when there is a large gap is because our actions continue to be shaped by what lies in our heads whether we want them to or not.  Just because I don’t tell you when I am angry, doesn’t mean that you can’t tell something is wrong.  It only gives you less understanding as to why.  Truthful communication is to relationships what food is to the body. It is what nourishes relationships; gives them heft and makes them grow. 

All of which is to say that living truth in our communication with others is rarely a straightforward affair.  Even in our closest relationships (perhaps especially in our closest relationships) we are constantly needing to discern how much to share and how much to keep to ourselves.  Just as getting a good picture of reality is tricky, just as adjudicating judgments is tricky, figuring out what holy honesty looks like in any given situation or relationship is—surprise, surprise—tricky. How much to say remains itself a matter of judgment.  (See how the various dimensions of living truth are so intricately intertwined!) 

Aquinas simply cautions that whatever information we do share needs to be shared charitably—in essence, lovingly. What we deem important for the other person to know may not be what the other person wants to hear—for example, “The results of the feedback survey were not favorable” or “It really peeves me that you didn’t manage to pick up the kids on time.” But the information can still be shared with concern for the person and their dignity. [viii]   Aquinas is, of course, not alone in this conviction.  Many other thinkers, Christian and otherwise, have noted the importance of kindness in our words.  We’ll sometimes hear the points raised here summarized as three questions we should ask ourselves before speaking: “Is it true?  Is it necessary?  Is it kind?”[ix]  I suspect Aquinas would agree those are the questions we should be asking, but would want to add a bit of nuance:

• Is what I am about to say rooted in reality as best as I can tell?
• Is what I am about to say helpful?  Are they “owed” this information in justice? Does the relationship call for more?
• If so, how will I say it with love?

Knowing that we are guiding our congregations through complicated terrain, one of the more helpful things that we can do as preachers is to lift up models of what it looks like to lovingly speak about what’s in one’s head, as well as models of what it looks like to lovingly hold back information. 

Is it ever okay to lie?

We’ve said that truthfulness is an alignment of our words with what is actually in our heads, but that not everything in our heads needs to be spoken in order to be truthful.  For any number of reasons—simple kindness, respect for confidential information, the realization that we are currently too angry to choose the right words—we can and should keep certain thoughts to ourselves.  But is it ever okay to lie?

Lying is different than withholding some of what’s in our heads.  Lying is saying words that in our heads we don’t actually believe to be true.  So as to let actors off the hook, many philosophers—including Aquinas—add “with the intent to deceive.”[x]  If you are standing on stage belting out, “I am I, Don Quixote, the Lord of La Mancha,” even though you know you are not the Lord of La Mancha, it is not a lie because it is not your intent to deceive the theater audience.  They also know that what you are claiming is not meant to be taken as true. 

What’s thornier is whether it is ever okay to say something you don’t believe to be true with the intent to deceive—in essence, with the intent that the other person would take it to be true.  When philosophers ponder this question, they often do so with extreme scenarios.  For example, if a Nazi soldier came to your door and asked if you had any Jews hiding in your attic, and you do, must you say “yes”?  But, we could ask the same question regarding everyday scenarios: Is it okay to tell children there is a tooth fairy?  Is it okay to tell a friend they look “smashing” in an outfit when you think anything but?

Some philosophers, like Immanuel Kant, would say that lying is always wrong.[xi] He would argue that, since communities can only function if there is a presumption of honesty in communication, truthfulness is a “duty that must be regarded as the basis of all duties” and must be practiced at all times and everywhere.[xii]  Others make decisions in their lives based on what we tell them.  If in fact we tell them something we know to be untrue, we are in some way manipulating their decisions—an action that is fundamentally disrespectful to a fellow human being.   

Others would disagree, noting that lying considered in isolation is wrong, but life’s moments don’t happen in isolation.  The decisions that we make around lying take place within complicated circumstances in which there are multiple “wrongs” to consider.  In the case of the Nazi-at-the-door, it is wrong to lie but it is also wrong to do something that you know will cause another harm.  Sometimes the best we can do in a situation is to choose the lesser of two wrongs.[xiii]  This position doesn’t deny that lying in general is wrong, but acknowledges there are circumstances where it is justifiable.

The problem is that once we acknowledge that lying may be justifiable in certain circumstances, we tend to use this argument a lot—not only to save peoples’ lives from imminent death, but to avoid noxious meetings (“Oh, I’m so sorry.  I totally forgot!”) and add spice to the holidays (“Yes, and he has a sled pulled by reindeer!  Once he left me only a lump of coal.”)  There are also goods to be had in these situations, but it would be worth asking whether in the long run they supersede the good of truthfulness. 

Sometimes we’ll hear it said that lying is okay as long as there is no harm done, but harm is difficult to measure and not always immediate.  Every time we engage in even a “white lie” we chip away at the cornerstone that society itself is built upon, so unless we want the whole “tower” to crumble, it makes sense that we take our chisel to it as little as possible.  And, perhaps especially so with children who are forming patterns of communicating that will influence the rest of their lives.  As a friend once asked me, “Why would you, as a parent who is trying to raise her child in the faith, want to tell your child that there is an invisible figure who brings good things to good children? A figure they will later find out does not exist.”  If we want our children to trust our words unto the future, we probably want to make sure we only tell them things we ourselves believe.  (Recall, if you will, the Santa Claus Incident of 1976.) 

Setting aside complicated philosophical debates about Nazis and white lies for a moment, as preachers we need to acknowledge that scripture repeatedly condemns lying.[xiv]  And, whereas the oft-cited “eighth commandment” of the Decalogue only specifically refers to perjury (lying under oath in a court of law), the Catechism of the Catholic Church understands the commandment to cover a wide array of “offenses against truth”[xv] including lying more broadly, calling it “the most direct offense against the truth” which “by its very nature…is to be condemned.”[xvi]  So, while we may or may not wish to address the question of Nazis or Santa Claus from the pulpit (Even I concede that one!), we should not avoid preaching about the lying in general as a sin.  The texts the church gives us to preach on are going to demand it. 

In a “post-truth” society, preaching about lying is a dicey affair.  Condemning lying, like extoling truthfulness, is now also considered “getting political in the pulpit.”  Granted, to say that a preaching is “political” is not necessarily a bad thing. Politics, simply defined, is the art of working out how to live with one another.  In that sense, much of the Bible has to do with politics, and there is no evading “political” preaching.  When people critique preaching as “political,” however, they don’t generally seem to be concerned that the preacher is talking on the art of relationship.  Their worry is that the preaching is targeting or favoring one political figure or issue currently in the news.  The preacher is “taking sides.” The pulpit is not the place to make ad hominem attacks (as if there were any such place), but the scriptures themselves do “take sides” on issues.  To avoid talking about what the Word of God has to say on issues when they are present both in the text and on the front page of the newspaper constitutes negligence on the part of the preacher.  Lying is one of the issues scripture itself “takes sides” on.

I cannot remember the last time that I heard preaching on the sin of lying.  Granted preaching about sin is never easy, but our collective silence on one of the most significant hindrances to “living truth” is puzzling and problematic.  We live in a society that is growing increasingly accustomed to lies—accommodating them rather than challenging them—and it seems that we as preachers are in danger of following suit. 

Can we lie by our actions?

We’ve been talking about “living truth” by aligning the words we use to express ourselves with what is in our minds.  But there is another way that we express our inner selves, and that is by our deeds.  Aquinas recognized that there often exists a mismatch between these two types of expression.  We paint a picture of the type of person we are with our words, but our actions reveal something different.[xvii] This particular variance on lying is often referred to as hypocrisy, coming from the Greek word hypokrites, referring to a masked stage actor pretending to be someone they were not. 

Hypocrisy irked Jesus in a way few other things did, sometimes driving him to hyperbole. He likened hypocrites to “whitewashed tombs which look beautiful on the outside but on the inside are full of the bones of the dead and everything unclean” (Matthew 23:27"Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you are like whitened tombs, which outwardly appear beautiful, but inwardly are full of dead men's bones, and of all uncleanness.). He noted they were blind to their own faults even as they nitpicked on others (Luke 6:42Or how can you tell your brother, 'Brother, let me remove the speck of chaff that is in your eye,' when you yourself don't see the beam that is in your own eye? You hypocrite! First remove the beam from your own eye, and then you can see clearly to remove the speck of chaff that is in your brother's eye.).  Indeed some scripture scholars think that Jesus’ mysterious condemnation of “blasphemy against the Holy Spirit” as the only “unforgiveable” sin (Mark 3:29but whoever may blaspheme against the Holy Spirit never has forgiveness, but is guilty of an eternal sin"{3:30} --because they said, "He has an unclean spirit.") was probably meant as a condemnation of hypocrisy: A person can become so confused about who they actually are in the midst of all the deceit that they no longer think they need forgiveness. [xviii]

Hypocrisy also seems to irk contemporary hearers in a way few other things do.  As examples of hypocrisy in political and ecclesial life create headlines, surveys and interviews in anticipation of the Bishop’s 2018 Synod on Youth highlight the concern young adults in particular have for institutional integrity and personal authenticity.[xix]  Surely the primary request of hearers is that their preachers be persons of integrity and authenticity themselves.  They want to know that we believe what we say and do our best to align our words and our actions in our own lives.  But they also have a heightened interest in hearing us speak about integrity and authenticity as a path of life.

If we want to stir interest in truth as a whole way of life, I suspect that preaching about authenticity and integrity—more than mention of relativism or reason or even honesty—provides the best entry point for introducing the broader topic. 

But what if others aren’t truthful?

We can commit our own lips to only saying things that we believe to be true.  We can work hard to make sure our words are aligned with our actions.  At the same time, we recognize we “live among a people with unclean lips.” If we were to espouse moral relativism, we might say, “Live and let live; it is none of our business.”  But, lying is a “difference that makes a difference” in our capacity to function as a society, and peoples’ lives are impacted by others’ lies.  Part of living truth involves working to make the world the kind of place where truthfulness is welcomed even when it is uncomfortable and where lying is discouraged rather than accepted. Beyond committing to greater truthfulness in our personal speech, we are asked as Catholics to work for greater truthfulness in our institutions, in our media, and in our governments. “An authentic faith,” says Pope Francis, “…always involves a deep desire to change the world, to transmit values, to leave this earth somehow better than we found it.”[xx] The U.S. Bishops confirm, “In the Catholic Tradition, responsible citizenship is a virtue, and participation in political life is a moral obligation.”  As Catholics, we are expected to actively advocate for truthfulness and integrity in the public sphere.

In 2018, Pope Francis devoted his World Communications Day message to the topic of “fake news,” asking Christians at large, and journalists in particular, to help stop the spread of “false information based on non-existent or distorted data meant to deceive and manipulate the reader.”[xxi]  He identified in the current epidemic of fake news the same “snake-tactics” employed by “the ‘crafty serpent’ in the Book of Genesis, who, at the dawn of humanity, created the first fake news, which began the tragic history of human sin.”[xxii]  He encouraged efforts to educate people around characteristics of fake news and to pass laws curbing abuse.[xxiii] 

“Living truth” through public advocacy for truthfulness will feel uncomfortable for many in our congregations who would rather not get involved in controversial societal concerns.  Indeed, many of us who preach share that discomfort.  So part of our task as preachers will be to make advocacy on behalf of truthfulness more imaginable and more manageable, with concrete small tasks that one can take on in daily life.  Fortunately, the scripture offers many models of ordinary people who found the courage to speak up about lies in their own times and can help us see the significance of such actions for the wider community. 

Summary

Living in a post-truth society continues to raise challenging questions for those of us trying to pattern our lives after Jesus: Not only “What is truth?” and “How do I arrive at ‘truths’?” but “How do I speak and act truthfully?  How do I align my thoughts with my words and my words with my actions?”

In order to help our congregations to be able to “live truth,” in our preaching we will want to explore every opportunity to: 

• lift up the absolute necessity of truthfulness in speech if any society is to function and faith is to flourish;
• identify truthfulness as the gift of one’s inner self to another that requires both a sense of justice and charity in order to navigate prudentially between saying too much and saying too little;
• be forthright about the sins of lying and hypocrisy as offenses against truthfulness;
• model integrity and authenticity in the way we present ourselves
• equip hearers to advocate for truthfulness and integrity in the wider society.

Truthfulness is never easy.  But when we use words the way God uses words—truthfully loving and lovingly true—our words, like God’s words, begin to be able to “do” things:  We will find our words able to break through impasses.  To heal.  To set things free.  Indeed, what we thought impossible becomes possible.  It turns out “death and life” really have been all along “in the power of the tongue.” (Proverbs 18:21Death and life are in the power of the tongue; those who love it will eat its fruit.)
 

[i] As the root of this see Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologiae 2.2, q.109.3 ad 1 which forms the basis for the current teaching of the Catechism of the Catholic Church on this matter (CCC #2469).  Aquinas states:

“Since man is a social animal, one man naturally owes another whatever is necessary for the preservation of human society. Now it would be impossible for men to live together, unless they believed one another, as declaring the truth one to another.”

[ii] For concise, meaningful commentary on the Christian understanding of the purposes of communication, see the opening paragraphs of “Message of His Holiness Pope Francis for World Communications Day, 24 January 2018” available at https://w2.vatican.va/content/francesco/en/messages/communications/documents

[iii] Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologiae 2.2 q. 109 – “I answer that, Truth can be taken in two ways. First, for that by reason of which a thing is said to be true, and thus truth is not a virtue, but the object or end of a virtue: because, taken in this way, truth is not a habit, which is the genus containing virtue, but a certain equality between the understanding or sign and the thing understood or signified, or again between a thing and its rule… Secondly, truth may stand for that by which a person says what is true, in which sense one is said to be truthful. This truth or truthfulness must needs be a virtue, because to say what is true is a good act: and virtue is that which makes its possessor good, and renders his action good.’”

[iv] Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologiae 2.2 q. 112

[v] Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologiae 2.2 q. 113

[vi] Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologiae 2.2 q. 58

[vii] Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologiae 2.2, q.109.3, ad 1 

[viii] Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologiae 2.2 q,23 a.7-8 “Now it is evident, in accordance with what has been said (Article 7, that it is charity which directs the acts of all other virtues to the last end, and which, consequently, also gives the form to all other acts of virtue”

[ix] These questions over time have been attributed to Socrates, to the Buddha, to Billy Graham, and numerous others.  For more information on the source of this rubric, see: https://fakebuddhaquotes.com/if-you-propose-to-speak-always-ask-yourself-is-it-true-is-it-necessary-is-it-kind/ 

[x] Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologiae 2.2 q.110 a.1  Aquinas draws heavily on Augustine, De mendacio 4,5: PL 40:491.

[xi] Thomas Aquinas himself seems to have wrestled a lot with this question. He gives the example of the story of the midwives in the book of Exodus.  The pharaoh had ordered the Egyptian midwives to kill Hebrew baby boys as soon as they were born.  When he later asked them why this wasn’t happening, they claimed that Hebrew women were so strong that the babies had been born before they ever arrived. Scripture says that God rewarded these midwives.  Aquinas ends up asserting that they were rewarded for their “fear of God and goodwill” but not for their lie.  You may not need to say all you know to the pharaoh, but lying itself is always wrong. See: Summa Theologiae 2.2 q. 110 a.3 based on Exodus 1:15-22The king of Egypt spoke to the Hebrew midwives, of whom the name of the one was Shiphrah, and the name of the other Puah,and he said, "When you perform the duty of a midwife to the Hebrew women, and see them on the birth stool; if it is a son, then you shall kill him; but if it is a daughter, then she shall live."But the midwives feared God, and didn't do what the king of Egypt commanded them, but saved the baby boys alive.The king of Egypt called for the midwives, and said to them, "Why have you done this thing, and have saved the boys alive?"The midwives said to Pharaoh, "Because the Hebrew women aren't like the Egyptian women; for they are vigorous, and give birth before the midwife comes to them."God dealt well with the midwives, and the people multiplied, and grew very mighty.It happened, because the midwives feared God, that he gave them families.Pharaoh commanded all his people, saying, "You shall cast every son who is born into the river, and every daughter you shall save alive.": “[I]t is unnatural and undue for anyone to signify by words something that is not in his mind.”

[xii] Immanuel Kant. Practical Philosophy  trans. Mary Gregor (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1996). See especially: “For truthfulness is a duty that must be regarded as the basis of all duties to be grounded on contract, the laws of which is made uncertain and useless if even the least exception to it is admitted. To be truthful (honest) in all declarations is therefore a sacred command of reason prescribing unconditionally, one not to be restricted by any conveniences.” (8: 427)

[xiii] As an example of a philosopher taking on this point of view, see Michael P. Lynch.  True to Life: Why Truth Matters (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 2004), 147-157.

[xiv] Potential citations are too numerous to include, but key passages to consider include Proverbs 6:16-19There are six things which Yahweh hates; yes, seven which are an abomination to him:haughty eyes, a lying tongue, hands that shed innocent blood;a heart that devises wicked schemes, feet that are swift in running to mischief,a false witness who utters lies, and he who sows discord among brothers.; Psalm 119:29Keep me from the way of deceit. Grant me your law graciously!; Psalm 120:2Deliver my soul, Yahweh, from lying lips, from a deceitful tongue.; Proverbs 12:22Lying lips are an abomination to Yahweh, but those who do the truth are his delight.; Revelation 21:8But for the cowardly, unbelieving, sinners, abominable, murderers, sexually immoral, sorcerers, idolaters, and all liars, their part is in the lake that burns with fire and sulfur, which is the second death."; Ephesians 4:25Therefore, putting away falsehood, speak truth each one with his neighbor. For we are members of one another.; and Colossians 3:9Don't lie to one another, seeing that you have put off the old man with his doings,.

[xv] Catechism of the Catholic Church #2464

[xvi] Catechism of the Catholic Church #2464, 2483, 2485

[xvii] Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologiae 2.2 q. 111 – Thomas refers to the general behavior as dissimulation and describes hypocrisy as one form of dissimulation: “It belongs to the virtue of truth to show oneself outwardly by outward signs to be such as one is. Now outward signs are not only words, but also deeds. Accordingly just as it is contrary to truth to signify by words something different from that which is in one's mind, so also is it contrary to truth to employ signs of deeds or things to signify the contrary of what is in oneself, and this is what is properly denoted by dissimulation. Consequently dissimulation is properly a lie told by the signs of outward deeds.” 

[xviii] See commentary in Ronald Rohlheiser.  The Holy Longing (NY: Doubleday, 1999), 227.  Similarly, see Fyodor Dostoevsky, The Brothers Karamazov chapter 2: “Above all, do not lie to yourself. A man who lies to himself and listens to his own lie comes to a point where he does not discern any truth either in himself or anywhere around him, and thus falls into disrespect towards himself and others. Not respecting anyone, he ceases to love, and having no love, he gives himself up to passions and coarse pleasures, in order to occupy and amuse himself, and in his vices reaches complete bestiality, and it all comes from lying continually to others and to himself.”

[xix] Synod of Bishops on Young People, the Faith and Vocational Discernment, Instrumentum laboris, #66-67, available at: http://www.synod2018.va/content/synod2018/en/fede-discernimento-vocazione/instrumentum-laboris-for-the-synod-2018--young-people--the-faith.html

[xx] Pope Francis, Evangelii gaudium, no. 183

[xxi] Pope Francis. “Message of His Holiness Pope Francis for World Communications Day, 24 January 2018,” section 1

[xxii] Ibid., section 2

[xxiii] For greater depth on the church’s teaching concerning use of social communications media, see also the Catechism of the Catholic Church, #2493-2499

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