Authenticity and the 9th – Part V

Today happens to be April Fool’s Day, a day for playing hopefully harmless tricks on other people, particularly verbal tricks. My mother, who was concerned that I not break the 9th Commandment even for a holiday, tried to teach me to say an April Fool’s joke as a question instead of a statement. Not only did that make me look like a fool at school, it was a bit of a muddy stream ethically, because planting a question of untruth in someone’s mind can be the same as making an untrue statement.

Regardless of what we do with April Fool’s Day, lying is certainly in the sin category in Scriptures. One of the Bible verses kids learn early on is the one about all liars landing in hell. Of course, true to form, it is usually remembered better when someone else is doing the lying.

As we’ve been discussing, the 9th Commandment is about a particular form of lying: bearing false witness against a neighbor. This commandment does have broad ranging application and it does speak to the whole concept of truth-telling.

Truth is a holistic seam in an individual. We struggle with someone who is honest to us but lies to someone else. Just as with gossip. How do we know that person won’t treat me like she does other people? If a man cheats on his wife, we say about politicians, how do we know he won’t cheat on his constituency or his country?

Giving offense to other people is a natural hazard of living, unless we all live as hermits. While we want to practice the habit of confession with those among whom we live so that even unintended harms do not fester, we have to accept that we are not perfect and that we are going to make mistakes. Yet such an acknowledgement is a far cry from, as the Apostle Paul warns, sinning on purpose.

Truth be told, everyone lives with mixed motives. To admit this does not deny altruistic feelings. All we humans can and should aspire to greatness, perfection even. But to deny that our motives are impure is to lie for sure. Similar to what happens when we claim we are humble.

The Scriptural remedy for dealing with our mixed innards is the practice of mutual accountability. One-way accountability doesn’t even work between parents and children. It turns into a “do as I say, not as I do” model that invariably reaps a “did as I did” memoir.

At the societal level, we call mutual accountability “checks and balances.” We have these checks and balances built into our social framework at every level precisely because we know we as humans are not perfect.

Even Jesus as God in the flesh cried out for accountability. Much of the time Jesus did or said something that is recorded, someone witnessed the action – usually one of his close disciples. And that action got passed on to others and eventually written down in what we call the four Gospels. But what about the stories of Jesus when he was alone, when no other human was around?

The classic solo story is his temptation by the devil in the desert. How did his followers know about this story in order to write it down? In fact, it was recorded in more than one Gospel. I believe that Jesus told his disciples that he was tempted and even the nature of his temptations – at least as much as we have recorded.

Then there is that time when, without realizing what he was doing, Peter tempted Jesus to avoid the cross. Jesus reacted as strongly as he did at any one time, telling Satan to back off. Satan was tempting Jesus through Peter at that point and Jesus wouldn’t accept it. What strikes me is that Jesus reacted stronger then than if that had come from someone other than in his inner circle. The temptation was stronger when voiced through a friend.

Even Jesus – especially Jesus – understood the power of mutual accountability. He practiced what he preached. He wanted and needed his disciples to understand and affirm his mission. He wanted them in the garden that night, sticking close by him as he wrestled one last time with the temptation to avoid the cross.

If Jesus cried out for accountability, so should we. Not one-way accountability that stands over us like some prison guard, but mutual accountability that affirms our commonness before the Cross.