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This week, Parashat Matot-Masei famously introduces us to the figure of the woman who makes vows and specifies the patriarchal restrictions that apply to these vows.
It is immediately clear that these restrictions are themselves limited. They are the prerogative of the woman’s father when she is a minor and of her husband after she gets engaged. They can only annul her vow on the day that they hear of it (vv. 4-6), which, as the Gemara will specify in BT Nedarim, refers to the remainder of the day (this could be no more than a few hours!) Moreover, if a woman’s vow was accepted by her father (silence here counts as acceptance, see v. 15), and she later marries a man, the husband can only void the vow when he first hears it (vv. 7-9). The vows of a woman who is a widow or a divorcee are, so to say, invulnerable (v. 10). In the following verses, it is made clear that Hashem is merciful towards a woman who took a vow that was then annulled by her husband. Based on v. 14, the Sages (see Mishna Nedarim 11:1) make it very clear that the husband can only nullify vows that “afflict the soul”, those that involve innui nefesh. The Gemara (Nedarim 79b) adds another category: vows beino leveina, “between him and her”. Even then, he can only void the aspect that directly affects him. The Sifrei Bamidbar 155 asserts that the same conditions apply to a father (if his daughter is still a minor).
A close reading of BT Nedarim reveals that use of hafarat nedarim by a father or a husband was increasingly restricted, based on the Chachamim’s understanding of Parashat Matot. The Sages came up with a more comprehensive solution—a better one, I believe—of freeing men and women alike from their vows—the institution of hatarat nedarim, which linguistically refers to the possibility of freeing people from their vows rather than aggressively destroying them (the hafara mechanism). The main difference is that, in hatarat nedarim, the Sages would basically help people free themselves from their vows through rational means, helping them finding a peticha, literally an “exit”, which may be translated as “loophole” in this context. For example, in BT Nedarim 21b-22a, the case of a mother who disinherited her daughter through a neder is reported. She then consulted he Sages to try to obtain the annulment of this extreme commitment. Trying to find a peticha, they ask the mother: “When you made this vow, did you think about what the neighbors would say about your daughter?” Wouldn’t it be clear to them that the child had committed very shameful actions to be shunned by her mother in this way? The mother admits that, no, she hadn’t realized the deleterious consequences of this hasty commitment and is freed from her vows.
But why did the Sages make it easier to resort to hatarat nedarim, while simultaneously limiting the parameters of the only option that was clearly laid out in the Torah, hafarat nedarim?
Let us take a step back to delve into the meaning of vows. Vows are commitments contracted by means of a ritual formula. One can take a vow to deny oneself any benefit from a person or object by making the entity concerned by the vow similar to a sacrificial offering (konam or korban), a kadosh, “sacred” or “holy” object. The best translation of kadosh in this context would be “separated, distanced from oneself”. However, while a sacrifice usually designates an object that we distance ourselves from in order to “draw closer” (korban) to Hashem, the vow creates a separation between oneself and others (people and objects alike) that only spells tension, strife and frustration. It drives a wedge between husbands and wives, fathers and daughters, and so on and so forth. Because of the extreme legal and social consequences of the neder, and because of its symbolic violence (since it involves depriving oneself or others of contact or pleasure in a way that is not warranted by the Torah at all), the Sages have generalized, within their means, recourse to the annulment of vows, particularly when it comes to saving human relationships. While hafarat nedarim seemed purely arbitrary on the part of the father or the husband, and relied on the paternalistic assumption that they knew better what their wives and daughters should vow or not, without needing any justification before voiding the vow, hatarat nedarim introduces rationality and introspection in the process or getting rid of one’s vow. It presupposes that women and men make mistakes and heat of the moment decisions that will impact them and their friends and family negatively, and that both sexes will need to have some of their vows annulled. There is something about hatarat nedarim that makes me think of therapy, since the Chachamim merely guide the vow-taker to a better understanding of what was wrong with the vow in the first place, considering all its ramifications and unintended consequences. Only a system that values self-understanding over outside interventions can take us from the status of children who need rebuke (as the bnei Israel often did in the desert) to a more mature and responsible am kadosh, a holy people in words and actions.
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