Just Say Nothing
Parashat Ki Tetse, Deuteronomy 21:10 – 25:19
Rabbi Paul L. Saal, Shuvah Yisrael, West Hartford, CT
As we approach the midpoint of the Hebrew month of Elul, Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur draw near, ushering in the Days of Awe, or Yamim Nora’im. In about a month from now, as the sun sets, the reverberating melody and contemplative words of Kol Nidre will resonate through synagogues worldwide. Kol Nidre, which translates to “all vows,” holds the peculiar function of preemptively absolving the binding nature of future promises for the upcoming year. At first glance, this prayer might be interpreted as either laziness or a spiritually questionable way to evade responsibility.
Interestingly, Kol Nidre seems to stand in direct contradiction to a proclamation found in this week’s Torah portion: “If you had refrained from making a vow, no guilt would have come upon you” (Deut 23:23). The words of the wise preacher Koheleth, traditionally attributed to King Solomon, echo this sentiment: “It is better that you do not make a vow than you make a vow and not fulfill it” (Eccl 5:4). Furthermore, the rabbis went as far as to emphatically warn against delaying vows, linking this procrastination to idolatry, unchastity, bloodshed, and slander (Leviticus Rabbah 37).
To reconcile this apparent contradiction, it’s essential to understand that not all vows are created equal in Judaism. There are distinct categories of vows, including oaths made as witnesses in court, purification oaths for debtors, personal obligations before God, and solemn affirmations to enhance credibility. However, none of these categories of vows are eradicated by mere ritual; the individual remains accountable for these vows legally, ethically, relationally, and religiously. The exception might be the personal aggrandizement type of vow, which could provide insight into the rationale behind Kol Nidre’s preemptive nullification of oaths.
But first, let’s delve into the origins and lore of Kol Nidre. Although its inception remains veiled in mystery, theories about its genesis abound. One prominent theory links the prayer’s wording to the predicament faced by Spanish Jews during the Inquisition in the 15th century.
The alternative of forced conversions to Christianity or death pushed many Jews to secretly practice Judaism at home. Kol Nidre could have emerged to nullify their coerced conversion vows before God. Most scholars, however, trace Kol Nidre back even further, possibly to the contracts of the Babylonian Jewish community during the 6th and 7th centuries. Despite differing origins, the consensus remains those vows made under duress, or the threat of death are not upheld by the Divine, and therefore, neither should we consider these binding.
This notion of vows made under extreme pressure dovetails with ethical considerations propagated by historical figures like Augustine and Emmanuel Kant. The Church Father Augustine (356–430 CE) argued, “Does he not speak most perversely who says that one person must die spiritually so that another may live? . . . Since, then, eternal life is lost by lying, a lie may never be told for the preservation of the temporal life of another.” Kant, an 18th century Christian philosopher, took a similar position. Both grappled with the moral dilemma of lying to safeguard lives.
In contrast, Judaism underscores that truth is a tangible interpersonal event, not just an abstract principle. The Torah illustrates instances where lying to preserve life is permissible. The rabbis understood the Torah to teach that for the preservation of life even God instructs the prophet Samuel to tell a lie (1 Sam 16:1–2). The rabbinic formula is “great is peace, because for its sake God altered what Samuel was to say.” This is applicable to those who concealed Jews during the Holocaust. In this case a false testimony is the same as a broken oath, but justifiable for the sake of pikuach nefesh, the preservation of life. Hence, Judaism honors those who lied to protect lives from the atrocities of the Nazis.
Moving beyond the quandaries of when vows should be nullified, it’s worth examining the most superfluous of oaths. This pertains to the category of vows made to enhance one’s credibility and status—a practice that both Yeshua and the rabbinic tradition scrutinized. Early rabbinic thought frowned upon invoking the Divine Name, adhering to the commandment, “You shall not take the name of the Lord your God in vain” (Exod 20:7). This extends to avoiding actions that exploit divine authority for personal gain.
People began using circumlocutions like “the Merciful One” or “the Forbearing One” in their oaths, later resorting to phrases like “by heaven,” “by the Temple,” or “by the covenant.” Yeshua, however, disapproved of these formulations as well, as they still sought to circumvent divine sovereignty. His perspective concurred with the rabbinic stance against unnecessary vows.
Given these contexts, why, then, do we continue to proclaim Kol Nidre, nullifying all future vows from “this Yom Kippur until next Yom Kippur”? At face value, it seems paradoxical to accept the words of someone who has already absolved themselves of responsibility. In modern language, phrases like “I’m not lying” have become commonplace. Thus, a culture of swearing leads to the depreciation of trust in speech, dividing it into two categories: unconditionally true by Divine affirmation and others that appear relatively true or merely plausible. Nullifying all vows proactively admits the fragility of our commitment while elevating the sanctity of truth-telling. Those who grasp this concept tend to exercise caution in their speech; discretion is affirmed through silence, and actions resonate louder than words.
Just as the commandment against killing and slander emphasizes the sanctity of human life, and the preservation of marriage sanctifies the family as society’s fundamental unit, refraining from unnecessary swearing underscores truth as the bedrock of the Torah way of life—the foundation of the Kingdom of God.