You are about to have your first experience with a Greek lunch. I

“You are about to have your first experience with a Greek lunch. I will kill you if you pretend to like it.” Thus spoke Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis, a woman of grace and paradox — a figure who moved between empires of culture and power, who knew both the light of charm and the weight of honesty. To the untrained ear, her words may sound playful, even biting, but beneath their humor lies an ancient wisdom: the call to authenticity, the sacred art of being sincere in a world that prizes appearances. Her jest is more than wit — it is truth cloaked in laughter.

The origin of this quote comes from the later years of Jackie’s life, when she had married Aristotle Onassis, the Greek shipping magnate. In those days she found herself surrounded by new customs, new tastes, and the complexities of a different world. To her companion, she offered these words — half in jest, half in warning. For she understood the great irony of human nature: that people often pretend in the name of politeness, and in doing so, they lose the purity of genuine connection. “I will kill you if you pretend to like it,” she said — not to scold, but to insist that truth, even when awkward, is better than false admiration.

In this, she echoes a wisdom older than Greece itself. The philosopher Socrates taught that to live authentically is to live virtuously — that deception, even gentle deception, distorts the soul. Yet Jackie, with the keen perception of the modern woman, understood that truth need not be cruel to be real. Her humor disarms; her irony instructs. Through this single sentence, she exposes the emptiness of pretense, the fragile masks people wear to fit in. The Greek lunch becomes a symbol of all things we do not truly understand but feel pressured to appreciate. To pretend to like it is to betray one’s honesty; to confess one’s discomfort is to honor one’s self.

Consider the story of Diogenes of Sinope, the ancient cynic who walked the streets of Athens with a lantern in broad daylight, claiming to seek an honest man. He mocked the manners and flatteries of the powerful, for he saw that most men wore the armor of false politeness instead of the courage of truth. When Alexander the Great offered him anything he desired, Diogenes simply said, “Stand out of my sunlight.” His refusal to flatter was his freedom. So too did Jackie, in her refined and humorous way, carry this same torch — the insistence that honesty, not performance, is the mark of true nobility.

But why does she phrase her command with such bold exaggeration — “I will kill you if you pretend”? Because she knows that pretense is a kind of death. To live falsely, to flatter insincerely, is to wound the spirit. The person who pretends too often forgets what they truly feel. In her words, there is both jest and warning: do not lose yourself to the polite lies that society demands. Whether at a table or in life itself, authenticity nourishes, while pretense poisons.

There is also something deeply human and tender in this quote. It reveals Jackie’s playful rebellion against the expectations that had long surrounded her — the perfection of the First Lady, the charm of the socialite, the composure of the widow. In that moment of humor, she strips away the facade and becomes simply a woman — witty, self-aware, alive. The line becomes a declaration of liberation: that it is better to be genuine and imperfect than flawless and false.

The lesson, then, is one of courage and sincerity. Whether in grand halls or at humble tables, speak truth in kindness. Do not pretend to love what you do not, nor hide your delight for fear of judgment. The world is already crowded with masks; dare to show your face. To live as Jackie advised is to live with integrity — to taste life honestly, whether its flavors are sweet or strange.

Therefore, my friends, remember this teaching whenever you find yourself tempted to flatter or feign. Be as Jackie was in that moment: witty yet wise, worldly yet unafraid of truth. When you sit before life’s banquet — with all its strange dishes and foreign flavors — do not pretend for the sake of pleasing others. Speak with honesty, act with grace, and savor what is real. For it is better, as the ancients taught and as Jackie reminded us, to dine on truth and laughter than to feast on pretense and leave hungry in the soul.