If you are acquainted with someone who is of a particular traditional bent and/or knowledgeable of Jewish sources - or if you are such a person - you may have heard a sentence like this: "I'll be there at 9 am sharp, bli neder," or this: "I'll pick up a dessert for Shabbos dinner, bli neder." "Bli neder" means "without [making] a vow," and is meant to indicate that the words that precede it should not be considered a religious commitment. You can still probably expect your meeting to take place as scheduled or for there to be something yummy to end your Shabbat meal, but if for any reason the other person is unable to fulfill what she or he has agreed to do, the broken promise was one made to another person, but not also to God.
The biblical law on vows and the importance of honoring them is the subject of the first part of this week's parashah, Mattot. Numbers 30:3 states the principle clearly and succinctly:
"If a man makes a vow to the Lord or takes an oath imposing an obligation on himself, he shall not break his pledge; he must carry out all that has crossed his lips."
Before getting to the rules of vows themselves, however, this passage (and thus the parashah) actually opens in a somewhat unusual manner (30:2):
Moses spoke to the heads of the Israelite tribes, saying: This is what the Lord commanded.
This is an unusual way to introduce a passage of biblical laws; we are much more familiar with the formula "And the Lord spoke to Moses, saying..." What then is the import of this set of commands being conveyed by Moses, to the "heads of the Israelite tribes"?
The early rabbinic midrash to Numbers, the Sifra (piska 153), suggests this as one possible answer:
What is the implication of "to the heads of the Israelite tribes"? It tells [us] that the undoing of vows is only [done] at the mouth of experts.
This midrash thus introduces a surprising new concept: vows can be undone! The unusual information that Moses conveyed this body of the law to the heads of the Israelite tribes, is a hint about the important role that the heads of the tribes will now serve. They will become the resource, the "experts," for those who have made hasty, not fully thought-out vows to turn to for help and release - a role that will eventually be taken over by rabbis.
Although the rabbis certainly discuss the rules of making and keeping vows and oaths, a surprising large proportion of their mentions of this topic actually entail something quite different - the procedure by which a sage or a quorum of three lay people can undo a vow so that it is no longer binding. The word that the rabbis use for this procedure is, in fact, the same word that is used for the releasing of a prisoner. The core text on how this is done, mNedarim chap. 9, consists of a series of examples of possible cases, but in short the release of a vow boils down to the issue of unexpected consequences: the person who made the vow is asked "If you had known that making this vow would lead to such-and-such consequence, would you have made the vow?" or says him/herself, "Had I known that the consequence of making this vow would be such-and-such, I would not have made it." On those grounds the overseeing authority, a rabbi or a court of lay persons, may then declare the vow null and release the avower from its obligations.
No obvious mention of the permissibility or even existence of such a procedure appears anywhere in the Torah. In fact, elsewhere, in Hagiga 1:8, the mishnah goes so far as to describe this area of law as "hovering in the air," that is, as having no basis in the firm ground of the biblical text. The midrash above, then, is one attempt to reground the rabbinic idea in Torah. The talmudic commentary to mHagiga 1:8 also seeks to find a Torah or other biblical source that can provide support for this rabbinic innovation: in Hagiga 10a, five different rabbis quote and interpret different verses to "prove" that the overturning of vows is an idea that can already be found in the Bible.
Why was it so important to the rabbis to create the procedure for releasing vows, and to insist that this new idea was not new, was not foreign to biblical law and ideals? To attempt to give an answer, let me present one of the "prooftexts" of bHagiga 10a that I, personally, find particularly intriguing and theologically astounding:
Rabbi Yehoshua said: They [the laws of overturning vows] do have what to support them, as it was said, "[For forty years I was wearied with that generation...] Wherefore I swore in My wrath [that they should not enter into My ‘rest'" (Psalm 95: [10 and] 11) - in My wrath I swore, but I retracted.
According to this rabbi, even God can make vows in a moment of intense emotion, and then regret it and its consequences later! And, if God can succumb to such an impulsive vow, how much more so we, who are human and endlessly fallible.
Let me tell you one of my favorite Jewish jokes, and then afterward I'll explain why I'm doing so. The joke goes like this: One day, the rabbi is sitting in her study, oh, let's say writing a drasha, when suddenly two congregants burst in with a dispute they need the rabbi to settle. "They insisted," says the secretary, trailing behind, "I tried to tell them you were busy..." "No, no, it's okay, tell me about it, one at a time," the rabbi says. So the first person tells his side of the story, and his interpretation of the problem and how it needs to be solved." "Hmm," says the rabbi. "You're right. But let's hear the other side now." The other person launches into her very different version of what happened and what needs to be done. "Oh, yes," says the rabbi, "you're right." At this, the secretary bursts in, "But wait - first you said he's right, and now you say she's right! They can't both be right!" The rabbi thinks for a moment, and then replies, "You know, you're right too!"
The point of telling this joke here is this: the Torah teaches if you make a vow, you must keep it. Promises are binding; one should be true to one's word. A vow is a promise to God, and how could one imagine breaking a promise to God?! And the Torah is right.
But then, the rabbis tell us, people can be hasty and rash and foolish and thoughtless; relatedly, people cannot foresee all of the possible outcomes of their words and acts. People make vows without thinking through or realizing all the consequences of what they have promised, or circumstances can change in ways we couldn't have anticipated. After all, if God can make a vow that God regrets, what can we, who are human, expect of ourselves? Sometimes we need to be able to change our minds, change course. It can be cruel to the avower, and often to those around him or her, to hold that person to the ill-considered vow. And the rabbis are right.
And us? We need to think not like the secretary of the joke - sure that only one side or the other can possibly be right - but rather like the rabbi who can hold onto multiple, seemingly contradictory ideas that are nonetheless both right. Our words are meaningful, and ideally we should treat them as such, and only say things that we can and are willing to stand by. But we make mistakes sometimes. Sometimes circumstances are not what we expected, or even could have expected them to be. And when that is the case, we need to know that it is permissible and right to admit our misperceptions and failings, and to seek help in correcting them.
Promise me you'll stop and think about it the next time you are tempted to casually promise someone something. Bli neder.
Shabbat shalom.