A Lie Never Justifiable | Page 4

the cost of a sin against God.
[Footnote 1: Heb. 6: 18]
At this time I had no special familiarity with ethics as a study, and I was unacquainted with the prominence of the question of the "lie of necessity" in that realm of thought. But on my return from army service, with my newly awakened interest in the subject, I came to know how vigorous had been its discussion, and how varied had been the opinions with reference to it, among philosophic thinkers in all the centuries; and I sought to learn for myself what could be known concerning the principles involved in this question, and their practical application to the affairs of human life. And now, after all these years of study and thought, I venture to make my contribution to this phase of Christian ethics, in an exhibit of the facts and principles which have gone to confirm the conviction of my own moral sense, when first I was called to consider this question as a question.

II.
ETHNIC CONCEPTIONS.
The habit of lying is more or less common among primitive peoples, as it is among those of higher cultivation; but it is of interest to note that widely, even among them, the standard of truthfulness as a duty is recognized as the correct standard, and lying is, in theory at least, a sin. The highest conception of right observable among primitive peoples, and not the average conformity to that standard in practice, is the true measure of right in the minds of such peoples. If we were to look at the practices of such men in times of temptation, we might be ready to say sweepingly with the Psalmist, in his impulsiveness, "I said in my haste, All men are liars!"[1] But if we fixed our minds on the loftiest conception of truthfulness as an invariable duty, recognized by races of men who are notorious as liars, we should see how much easier it is to have a right standard than to conform to it.
[Footnote 1: Psa. 116: II.]
A careful observer of the people of India, who was long a resident among them,[1] says: "More systematic, more determined, liars, than the people of the East, cannot, in my opinion, be found in the world. They often utter falsehoods without any apparent reason; and even when truth would be an advantage, they will not tell it.... Yet, strange to say, some of their works and sayings represent a falsehood as almost the unpardonable sin. Take the following for an example: 'The sin of killing a Brahman is as great as that of killing a hundred cows; and the sin of killing a hundred cows is as great as that of killing a woman; the sin of killing a hundred women is as great as that of killing a child in the womb; and the sin of killing a hundred [children] in the womb is as great as that of telling a lie.'"
[Footnote 1: Joseph Roberts, in his _Oriental Illustrations_, p. 580.]
The Mahabharata is one of the great epics of ancient India. It contains a history of a war between two rival families, or peoples, and its text includes teachings with reference to "everything that it concerned a cultivated Hindoo to know." The heroes in this recorded war, between the Pandavas and the Kauravas, are in the habit of lying without stint; yet there is evidence that they recognized the sin of lying even to an enemy in time of war, and when a decisive advantage might be gained by it. At a point in the combat when Yudhishthira, a leader of the Pandavas, was in extremity in his battling with Drona, a leader of the Kauravas, the divine Krishna told Yudhishthira that, if he would tell Drona (for in these mythical contests the combatants were usually within speaking distance of each other) that his loved "son Aswatthanea was dead, the old warrior would immediately lay down his arms and become an easy prey." But Yudhishthira "had never been known to tell a falsehood," and in this instance he "utterly refused to tell a lie, even to secure the death of so powerful an enemy." [1] Although it came about that Drona was, as a matter of fact, defeated by treachery, the sin of lying, even in time of war, and to an enemy, is clearly brought out as a recognized principle of both theory and action among the ancient Hindoos.
[Footnote 1: See Wheeler's _History of India_, I., 321.]
There is a famous passion-play popular in Southern India and Ceylon, which illustrates the Hindoo ideal of truthfulness at every risk or cost. Viswamitra, the tempter and accuser as represented in the Vedas, appears in the council of the gods, face to face with Indra. The question is raised by Indra, who is the most