Deceive not thy physician, confessor, nor lawyer.

Hear the timeless wisdom of George Herbert, poet and priest, who declared: “Deceive not thy physician, confessor, nor lawyer.” These words, though simple, carry the weight of centuries of human struggle. They speak of truth, of trust, and of the sacred relationships upon which life, soul, and justice depend. For in these three—doctor, priest, and advocate—rest the pillars of health, conscience, and protection. To deceive them is not only folly, but a betrayal of one’s own salvation, both earthly and eternal.

The meaning is plain: a physician cannot heal if you conceal your wounds; a confessor cannot absolve if you hide your sins; a lawyer cannot defend if you obscure the truth of your cause. In each case, the lie rebounds upon the liar. By deceiving those sworn to aid us, we cut away the very lifelines meant to preserve us. Thus Herbert warns that deception here is not cleverness, but self-destruction. The healer, the spiritual guide, the protector of rights—each depends on honesty, for without it, they wield their power in blindness.

History offers us countless mirrors of this truth. Consider the fate of King Charles II of England, who, during illness, concealed the severity of his suffering from his physicians. When at last the truth was plain, it was too late, and their remedies failed. Concealment hastened death. Likewise, in the realm of faith, stories abound of those who sought forgiveness without confessing fully—only to remain burdened, their peace of soul unachieved. And in courts, men who misled their lawyers often found themselves crushed by truths revealed by their enemies, leaving their advocates powerless to defend them. In all, deceit proved ruinous.

The ancients, too, carried this wisdom. The Greeks said, “Know thyself,” for truth within is the beginning of wisdom. The Romans taught that a client who misled his patron invited disaster. And in the Christian tradition, the act of confession demanded not half-truths, but full exposure of the heart, for only then could healing grace descend. Thus Herbert’s words are not new, but an echo of eternal counsel: truth with those who heal, guide, and protect is a sacred duty.

And yet, Herbert’s counsel is not merely practical—it is profoundly moral. To deceive these figures is to mock trust itself. It is to treat lightly the very covenant that binds one human to another in service and care. For the physician pledges his skill for life, the confessor his ear for redemption, the lawyer his mind for defense. In return, they ask not wealth or power alone, but truth. Without truth, their gifts are corrupted, their service made vain.

The lesson for us is clear: speak plainly when life, soul, or justice are at stake. Do not fear shame before your physician—better a blush than a grave. Do not fear humility before your confessor—better a humbled heart than a hardened one. Do not fear exposure before your lawyer—better a full defense than a broken one. Honesty is the price of healing, forgiveness, and protection, and it is a price far smaller than the cost of deceit.

Therefore, in your own life, practice openness with those entrusted to your care. Teach your children to honor these relationships, to know that truth given to the healer, the guide, and the defender is not weakness, but strength. And extend this wisdom further—be truthful also to teachers, to friends, to those who stand by you in times of trial. For the habit of honesty builds trust, and trust is the bedrock upon which all noble societies rest.

So remember Herbert’s words: “Deceive not thy physician, confessor, nor lawyer.” Let them be etched upon your heart. For the body, the soul, and the rights of man are too precious to be gambled with lies. Only in truth is there healing, only in truth is there forgiveness, and only in truth is there justice. And where truth reigns, life itself flourishes, strong and unshaken.