By Mark Wingfield
As a Texan, I am not enamored with Ted Cruz as my senator. However, right now I have a bit of sympathy for him.
Last week, he called Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell a “liar” on the Senate floor. And the wrath of all decent society has descended upon Cruz for this social faux pas.
And yet the question no one seems to have asked out loud is this: Was Cruz right? Did McConnell, in fact, tell an outright lie? (Notwithstanding the question of whether a politician telling a lie actually is news anymore.) And if McConnell did tell a lie, does anyone care?
This Senate dustup illustrates one of the great social dilemmas of modern American society: Is it a greater sin to call out someone for telling a lie than to be the one who actually tells the lie?
I’ve experienced this, and you may have too. A few years ago, during a difficult dispute in an organization where I served as a board member, a leader of the organization sat in a meeting with multiple witnesses and told a flat-out lie. What was said was a 180-degree misrepresentation of the plain facts. This was not a matter of interpretation; there was written documentation to back up the truth.
Afterward, another well-meaning person who was trying to find a way through the larger conflict asked me why I was so upset. My answer was simple: Because this leader had told the group a bald-faced lie, meant to obfuscate the speaker’s own misdeeds.
This statement nearly ended our conversation. The intermediary, even in the course of a private two-person conversation, could not bear the fact that I had called out someone as a liar. Instead, the guilt suddenly became mine; I was the inappropriate person who needed to straighten things out. In this mediator’s view, it was a greater sin to call someone a “liar” than for someone to be a liar.
I’ve spent several years pondering this question and wondering why our social niceties demand that we not call an untruth an untruth. Shouldn’t there be some way to hold others accountable for their intentionally misleading speech?
Of course, I’m not talking about unintentional misstatements, the common errors we all make from time to time. Most folks, when confronted with a misstatement, will quickly acknowledge the error and move on. That is different than an intentional lie.
Is it possible that we have come to expect people to tell lies as a normal course of business, and therefore we are immune to their effects?
This has implications for the church, as well. More than a few pastors and church staff members have been undone by uncontested lies told by disgruntled parishioners. And more than a few businesspeople who are faithful church members have gained identities in the communities as purveyors of untruths in their business dealings. And more than a few pastors have taken up pen or pulpit to declare boldly that the Bible says things it clearly does not say.
Jesus called us to be people of truth, proclaiming that the truth will set us free. If we really believe what Jesus said, could we have a new conversation about how to foster truth with kindness that allows a way to hold others accountable for speaking untruths? One of the greatest gifts the church could give modern culture is to model truth-telling. That’s no lie.