Bli Neder!

It is a charming little superstition to hear when I visit friends in Israel: “Are you coming to supper Yom Rishon?” “I intend to be there. Bli neder!”

Bli neder. Without pledge.

We actually know the substantive derivation of the root nun-dalet-resh quite well, as it forms the name of one of our most cherished moments: Kol Nidrei. “All Pledges.” In about twelve weeks we will gather together to hear three repetitions (yes, three! Stay tuned!) of this most sacred prayer which ultimately amounts to a legal document covering us for all the times we forgot to say, “Bli neder!” But really, what’s the big deal?

The passage of Parashat Mattot that we will be reading Saturday morning goes into what feels like absurd detail regarding the status of a pledge. Essentially, if a pledge is made by someone that according to the societal rules of the times was able to make that vow, then the pledge cannot be broken and must be carried out.

It really seems quite simple, doesn’t it? If one promises to do something, it should be done. Certainly, when someone promises us that they are going to do something and it is not done we feel a sense of loss, betrayal, or at the very least confusion. The question is, do we hold ourselves to a lower standard?

Maybe the question is better looked at from a different standpoint: What words that we can utter constitute a binding pledge that we are obligated to follow to completion?

An unpleasant cultural oddity of the last major city I lived near, Seattle, was the frequency with which conversations ended with some variation of, “Let’s do coffee sometime.” Having previously come from Philadelphia where the translation of “Let’s do coffee sometime,” was “Let’s do coffee some time,” it became a swift shock to me to realize the translation of that phrase into Seattle-vernacular was, “I would like to end this conversation now, and since you are not part of my normal circle of friends, if you ever call me asking to go out for coffee I will either a) pretend I don’t know you or b) make excuses for the next seventeen months until you give up.” Was there a “neder” implicit in the suggestion to go out sometime and drink coffee together? The person new to the area certainly heard one and was doubtlessly affected to learn no intention existed behind the pledge.

What it really comes down to are the dual questions of “do our words matter?” and “are we aware what we are saying?” Our language, regardless of our accent, dialect, and origins contains within it cultural expressions that imply a commitment. To look at this differently, what if we were absolutely held to every explicit and implicit pledge we made in the course of every-day niceties?

Because of the gendered language of Matot, that men and women at that time had different abilities and responsibilities regarding being held to a vow and the ability to nullify a vow, we often ignore the larger wisdom translated into today’s language that we tend to be unaware of the vows we make and the affect they have on those around that take our words at face value. This also points us to a truer understanding of the Kol Nidre.

Every year we bind ourselves to commitments we cannot meet, and are given an opportunity to assess that and begin the process of awareness and self-reflection that can lead to real change—yes, even to forgive ourselves for uttering promises we never meant to keep and forgive others for doing what we unconsciously do.

Our words matter.