Yom Kippur evening – September 22, 2015
Congregation M’kor Hayim – Rabbi Helen Cohn
“Promises, promises”
We begin with a poem by Merle Feld titled “Kol Nidre” (RA Machzor, p 204):
I am grateful for this; a moment of truth, grateful to stand before You in judgment.
You know me as a liar and I am flooded with relief to have my darkest self exposed at last.
Every day I break my vows— to be the dutiful child, selfless parent, caring friend, responsible citizen of the world.
No one sees, no one knows, how often I take the easy way,
I let myself off the hook, give myself the benefit of the doubt— every day, every day.
On this day, this one day, I stand before You naked, without disguise, without embellishment, naked, shivering ridiculous.
I implore You—let me try again.
Tonight is known as “Kol Nidre,” which means “all vows.” The name comes from the opening words of our service. Kol Nidre is an ancient legal formula which the sages felt we must say at the start of Yom Kippur, as a way to let go of broken promises and to open ourselves to forgiveness and atonement. The prayer lists seven types of promises: vows, renunciations, bans, oaths, formulas of obligation, pledges and promises. It then lists seven ways we hope those promises will be nullified: “may all these be undone, repealed, cancelled, voided, annulled, and regarded as neither valid or binding.” Clearly this legal formula wants to cover all the bases of every type of vow or promise that we might have made in the past, or might make in the future.
I expect you noticed my use of tenses, past and future. The original Kol Nidre spoke about annulling vows and etc that we made from last Yom Kippur until now. We nullify the ones we were unable to keep in the past year, so that we could enter the new year with a clean slate. This notion of entering the new year with a clean slate always made sense to me. But in the 12 th
century the prayer was changed to say “all the vows and etc we will make from this Yom Kippur to the next.”
Why would we be renouncing or nullifying vows we are going to make? The answer is that we are only referring to those vows and promises that we earnestly plan to keep but for reasons beyond our control we would not be able to fulfill.
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Still, why the future tense? Why from this year to the next? I suspect it is because the rabbis realized how hard it can be, on occasion, to fulfill a solemn promise. This legal formula allows us to relax a bit as we move into Yom Kippur. We can relax a bit knowing that judgment will be tempered with compassion for our well-intentioned but all-too-human selves.
This is the context of the Kol Nidre prayer: we nullify personal vows that we did not, or will not, fulfill. This is the official purpose of the prayer. I would like for us now to reflect in a more personal way about vows and promises.
For our purposes tonight, here is how I am defining these two words. “Vows” ( nedarim in Hebrew) refer to a formal statement of intention that an individual makes to God. The
Torah speaks specifically about the nazir , a person who makes a vow (generally for a limited time period) to do or abstain from doing something specific. This type of vow— because it is between a person and God—is serious in a way we moderns might find difficult to understand. I mean, really! If you promise God you are going to do something, this is as serious as it gets.
So you can see why the rabbis strongly discourage vow-taking, although it is described in the Torah. In fact, in traditional circles even today, when a person says something like
“I’ll see you next Tuesday…” they often qualify that statement with “b’li neder,” without a vow, to make clear it is a statement of intention rather than a formal vow.
Personally I am careful about the language I use in this regard. For example, when asked to rsvp to a meeting, I will say, “I plan on attending.” I know better than to assert that I will attend, because who knows what might prevent it, and then I will have made an
(implicit) promise in vain. What I can say truthfully is that I am planning on attending.
Notice that I’ve shifted from talking about “vows” to talking about “promises.” Vows are serious business between oneself and God, something only your own soul and Kol
Nidre can address. Promises (as I’m using that word) are between ourselves and another person, or perhaps simply made to ourselves. Our question for tonight is: “What does it mean to make a promise?”
I think making a promise is the most serious offer one person can make another. The word itself is easy to say, but what stands behind it? This is not so easy. Because behind our promise is our integrity, our trustworthiness. The psalmist says, “O God, who may abide in your house? Who may dwell in your holy mountain?” One of the answers is,
“Those who give their word, and come what may, do not retract.” (Ps 15)
Most often we have good intentions. For example, I say to a friend, “I intend to go walking with you three times a week.” Can you hear the difference between that and “I promise to go walking with you three times a week”? Just that simple example shows us the folly of making a promise like that, since there are so many things that could get in
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the way of fulfilling such a promise. Better to state an earnest intention that you sincerely plan to do.
Our words have power. Saying “I promise” takes us into a realm of absolutes, with our integrity on the line. When we make a promise we should be clear about who we are.
Can we be counted on? Can we be trusted to keep our word? Will we do everything in our power to fulfill what we have promised?
These are questions for tonight, for Yom Kippur. We look back over the past year and see with regret the promises we made that we did not keep. Perhaps we lacked confidence, or we got lazy. Perhaps we regretted the commitment. Or maybe there was a promise we should have made, but we hesitated, we were afraid.
Promises are potent things. They are words that bind us to being who we most yearn to be, both to ourselves and to others: a person who can be counted on, a person who gives her word, who gives his word, and does not retract. Kol Nidre may seem to be a loophole for getting out of promises, but it actually shows us how seriously we must take them.
My hope for all of us in the year ahead is that we make our promises to ourselves and to others wisely. May we show ourselves to be a person who can be trusted to keep our word, a person of integrity. At this time next year, may we have no promises to undo, repeal, cancel, void, or annul.
But for now, let us hear again and take to heart the imploring words of our poet as she looks back on the year that has passed, as she reflects on her life, and as we reflect on ours:
I am grateful for this; a moment of truth, grateful to stand before You in judgment.
You know me as a liar and I am flooded with relief to have my darkest self exposed at last.
Every day I break my vows— to be the dutiful child, selfless parent, caring friend, responsible citizen of the world.
No one sees, no one knows, how often I take the easy way,
I let myself off the hook, give myself the benefit of the doubt— every day, every day.
On this day, this one day, I stand before You naked, without disguise, without embellishment, naked, shivering ridiculous.
I implore You—let me try again.
May 5776 be the year for us “Who give our word, and come what may, do not retract.”
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