Is it okay for a clergyman to tell a white lie to comfort his flock?

• Is it okay for a clergyman (or anyone really) to lie in order to comfort members of his flock? Even a white lie?

Quite a few years ago I lived in Norther Virginia, just south of D.C. My wife and I sent our young daughter to a parochial grade school to provide a religious component to her education. We did not belong to the church associated with that school. But my wife—a stay at home mom—volunteered extensively with school activities and became good friends with the other moms, the grade school faculty, and even the head clergyman of the large church down the street that was affiliated with the school. The head clergyman—let’s call him Mr. Kay (not his real name)—was the school principal’s boss, of sorts.

When my daughter was in the 4[SUP]th[/SUP] grade, my wife was diagnosed with lung cancer. It was a shock to our family since she was a non-smoker. The families of my daughter’s school were extremely supportive during my wife’s two year battle with the disease. They brought food, helped with babysitting, ran errands, etc.—all of which helped us out greatly during a very tough time. Shortly before the Christmas of my daughter’s 6[SUP]th[/SUP] grade year, my wife passed away. I’m not relating this on CC to invoke sympathy. This happened many years ago. My grief was overwhelming at first, but subsided after a few years. It’s what happened next that I’d like to discuss in this thread.

My wife, seeing that the end was near, requested that I have the head clergyman, Mr. Kay, come to the hospital to comfort my daughter when the end came and cancer ended her life. My wife did not want our daughter to blame God for her mother’s death. She (wife) felt that Mr. Kay could explain the situation in a way that would avoid weakening our daughter’s faith. A couple weeks later, when the end was near, I called Mr. Kay and related my wife’s request. He declined to come. I was a bit surprised, and thought that perhaps I hadn’t explained the situation clearly. So I called him again the next day and asked again. I told him that we could accommodate his schedule since it was a matter of ending the life support system that was keeping her body alive. (She was far past being able to be revived at that point.) Again, he politely declined. (No big deal—I guess he just didn't consider himself her neighbor.) So I called our Methodist minister with only a few hours’ notice. She had a church related schedule conflict, but was able to reschedule her other obligation. Our Methodist minister came to the hospital and comforted my young daughter on the evening her mother died.

Here’s the rub: A week or so after the funeral I was speaking to three of my deceased wife’s friends—mothers of my daughter’s classmates at the parochial school. One mother—let’s call her Shannon—turned to me and said, “It is so comforting to us to know that Mr. Kay was there with Susan at the end of her life, and to help your daughter during that tragic time” (paraphrasing). I told her that Mr. Kay the clergyman was NOT there. The mother, Shannon, said, “no, we spoke to him and he said that he *was* there.” Then I explained to them how I had asked Mr. Kay twice to come, but he declined. In response, Shannon said, “you know, when we mentioned your wife’s death to Mr. Kay he actually said, ‘We do what we can.’ So he didn’t actually say that he was with your wife when she died”. Surprisingly (to me anyway), the three mothers were not upset that their clergyman Mr. Kay had misled them.


So my questions are:

• When you make a misleading statement like this ("we do what we can"), knowing that people will interpret it the wrong way, is it a lie?

• Is it okay for a clergyman (or anyone really) to lie in order to comfort members of his flock? Even a white lie?

/sorry for the extremely long post.

Quite a few years ago I lived in Norther Virginia, just south of D.C. My wife and I sent our young daughter to a parochial grade school to provide a religious component to her education. We did not belong to the church associated with that school. But my wife—a stay at home mom—volunteered extensively with school activities and became good friends with the other moms, the grade school faculty, and even the head clergyman of the large church down the street that was affiliated with the school. The head clergyman—let’s call him Mr. Kay (not his real name)—was the school principal’s boss, of sorts.

When my daughter was in the 4[SUP]th[/SUP] grade, my wife was diagnosed with lung cancer. It was a shock to our family since she was a non-smoker. The families of my daughter’s school were extremely supportive during my wife’s two year battle with the disease. They brought food, helped with babysitting, ran errands, etc.—all of which helped us out greatly during a very tough time. Shortly before the Christmas of my daughter’s 6[SUP]th[/SUP] grade year, my wife passed away. I’m not relating this on CC to invoke sympathy. This happened many years ago. My grief was overwhelming at first, but subsided after a few years. It’s what happened next that I’d like to discuss in this thread.

My wife, seeing that the end was near, requested that I have the head clergyman, Mr. Kay, come to the hospital to comfort my daughter when the end came and cancer ended her life. My wife did not want our daughter to blame God for her mother’s death. She (wife) felt that Mr. Kay could explain the situation in a way that would avoid weakening our daughter’s faith. A couple weeks later, when the end was near, I called Mr. Kay and related my wife’s request. He declined to come. I was a bit surprised, and thought that perhaps I hadn’t explained the situation clearly. So I called him again the next day and asked again. I told him that we could accommodate his schedule since it was a matter of ending the life support system that was keeping her body alive. (She was far past being able to be revived at that point.) Again, he politely declined. (No big deal—I guess he just didn't consider himself her neighbor.) So I called our Methodist minister with only a few hours’ notice. She had a church related schedule conflict, but was able to reschedule her other obligation. Our Methodist minister came to the hospital and comforted my young daughter on the evening her mother died.

Here’s the rub: A week or so after the funeral I was speaking to three of my deceased wife’s friends—mothers of my daughter’s classmates at the parochial school. One mother—let’s call her Shannon—turned to me and said, “It is so comforting to us to know that Mr. Kay was there with Susan at the end of her life, and to help your daughter during that tragic time” (paraphrasing). I told her that Mr. Kay the clergyman was NOT there. The mother, Shannon, said, “no, we spoke to him and he said that he *was* there.” Then I explained to them how I had asked Mr. Kay twice to come, but he declined. In response, Shannon said, “you know, when we mentioned your wife’s death to Mr. Kay he actually said, ‘We do what we can.’ So he didn’t actually say that he was with your wife when she died”. Surprisingly (to me anyway), the three mothers were not upset that their clergyman Mr. Kay had misled them.


So my questions are:

• When you make a misleading statement like this ("we do what we can"), knowing that people will interpret it the wrong way, is it a lie?

• Is it okay for a clergyman (or anyone really) to lie in order to comfort members of his flock? Even a white lie?

/sorry for the extremely long post.

Mr. Kay probably did do what he could -- prayed. I admit I'm nosy enough to ask what he did, since he said "we do what we can." And, yes! A pastor who can't be there for talks to little girls right after her mother died has got to be embarrassing as a pastor. But he couldn't. I can't blame him there, because I couldn't either. Never was any good at being the shiny example when someone dies.

If your wife wanted you to be there for her at that moment and be the shiny example, could you have done it? Me? I was falling apart so badly, I couldn't even be the shiny example for stuffed animals, and they're not real, and their lives (which don't really exist), don't depend on me being that. I'm sure you and your daughter had to have that talk, but how long was it before you did? Because you were a big bag of emotion too. Would you have ever had that talk, if it was someone else's daughter? That really is asking a lot of someone.

Can you blame him for not doing that?

And ultimately, can't you see yourself embarrassed at your fallibility in admitting that if you were him, so he did kind of pass the ball. BUT I don't think it was a lie. Assuming he prayed. If he prayed, he did what he could.

Honestly, I'm just nosy enough I'd have to ask though.

Ha! Miss NOT-subtle asking something like that. Can you see that scenario going down? But, I wouldn't harbor any negative emotions if he prayed. But, boy! It would take a miracle from God to have me forgive him, if he didn't even do that.

Good news though. God's already done those kinds of miracles for me.

Obviously, this is still bugging you years later. If Mr. Kay is still alive, ask. Sure beats harboring resentment, if resentment was never required.

Yeah, I imagine he prayed. I did not ask him what he did when he said "we do what we can." To be honest I never saw him after the day of the funeral. The funeral was held at our Methodist Church. Of course our own Methodist minister did the funeral service (the minister who was with my daughter the night her mother died). But so many of my wife's friends asked whether Mr. Kay was going to be there that I asked our minister if it was okay for Mr. Kay to speak as well. So he was there and did part of the service too.


As much as I hate to admit it, I guess it still must bother me some. But it bothers me even more that the members of his flock didn't seem to care that he purposefully mislead them. If that was me that he misled (and he was my clergyman), I would have gone back and asked him about it. In fact even though I'm not a member of his church, I probably *would* ask him about it if I ever saw him again. But that's not likely. After the whole cancer tragedy that shipwrecked my family, I felt we needed a fresh start. A year after my wife died I moved with my daughter a thousand miles away from Alexandria, Virginia and started a new life in the Midwest where I now live.