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I feel some grudging applause is called for here. One must stand back in awe of the party host who contrives not only to extract pocket money from his guests but does so when they are at a choice-point where declining is almost impossible. This person is a genius of perverse ability. Never go to one of his parties again but mentally nod in appreciation. Well played, jerk-face.

I mean, really, what is the point of this? No doubt there will be some wear and tear on the fields where the cars are parked. Who knows, maybe the attendant deserves a few twenties for directing traffic. But the amount of collected cash can only be minuscule compared to the rippling effect of bad vibe the scheme generates. You’re still seething. Of course you are! I doubt you are alone.

For better or worse, most of us are conflict-averse when the stakes are low and the costs of resisting relatively high. So, like you, I imagine I would have paid and then grumbled about it afterwards. But wouldn’t it nice to refuse to pony up on an occasion like this? Just blow past the gaping kid with his hand out for the fiver, ditch the jalopy anywhere, and saunter into the party looking for a drink (and hope there is no charge for that too).

But no. We are agreeable people most of the time, and there’s a reason for that. We soak up the social costs of awkward situations rather than create the friction of revealing obvious failures of generosity. We’re fuming, seething heroes of what are sometimes called “the small morals.� Such everyday tolerance shows that the ethics of social life are never a matter of “mere� etiquette or manners. The host’s little cash-grab creates a harm of ill feeling that did not exist before. It is a negative utility function, graceless as well as unnecessary. Bah.

I’m applying for a job that requires Christian ideals (it’s a Christian school). I might have exaggerated my devotion to prayer. Having said that, I was confirmed in a church, went to Sunday school as a kid, and even helped out with community things at our local church. But I don’t believe in God and don’t consider myself a formal Christian; more like I believe in the morals like “do unto others.� Is there a fine line here, and have I crossed it?

The first thing to say is, if you lied about your prayerful qualifications to teach at a Christian school — or really any school — then your own performative contradiction settles the issue prima facie. You cannot claim to be qualified to do something for which the claim itself is a disqualifying negation. Check yourself before you wreck yourself!

But let’s allow you some wiggle room: exaggeration is not outright lying, after all. And maybe you have a case that you deserve the job on merit. Two issues then arise. One concerns hypocrisy. The Danish philosopher was fond of asking, rhetorically, “Among the Christians, is there a Christian?� He meant something like this: do any of the world’s many self-professed believers, often ostentatious about their faith, actually practice its ideals? Do they walk the walk, or just talk the talk?

This charge of bogus virtue-signalling matches logically with a second possibility, namely the detachability hypothesis. That is, if the essence of Christian faith is indeed its moral code, the do-unto-others and turn-the-other-cheek stuff, and not what you call “formal� structure, then can’t the moral ideals unhitch from theistic belief-baggage altogether, and stand alone?

This question is a live one, especially for non-believers who have a strong sense of personal commitment. It is not actually a fine-line issue at all. If can be sustained and fruitful entirely without a divine creator backing it, the world tilts on its axis. I personally think your ethical commitments can and should survive any loss of belief in God. But take note — those same commitments mean you must ask your potential employers whether they think so too.