Parashat Mattot-Masei 5769--Making Vows

As a young child, I declared often and with a great deal of earnestness, “When I grow up, I am going to be an orange juice taster.” As a child, my younger sister declared she would only leave the house if she were wearing a bathing suit and tights under her clothes (this lasted almost a year). As a teenager, I declared I would no longer eat meat, I would go to a small liberal arts college on the East Coast, and that one day I would travel to Turkey. These childhood pronouncements stay with me until this day. The vows of young people often pass, and sometimes they don’t.

As an educator, students will often share the vows they take with me:
“When I grow up I will be a…”
“From now on, I will not eat…”
“I will only wear…”
“I will never…”
“I will always…”

Childhood is a time of professed absolutes—some misguided, many inspired. As parents, educators, and members of the TIOH community, we have a series of choices as to how we respond to the vows taken by the young people around us. The first part of this week’s double Torah portion, Parashat Mattot-Masei, speaks to these reactions.

The Torah declares, “If a man makes a vow to Adonai 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,” (Numbers 30:3). The Torah, it seems, takes the oaths of grown men seriously. Not so, with young women. The Torah declares, “If a woman makes a vow to Adonai or assumes an obligation while still in her father's household by reason of her youth, and her father learns of her vow or her self-imposed obligation and offers no objection, all her vows shall stand and every self-imposed obligation shall stand. But if her father restrains her on the day he finds out, none of her vows or self-imposed obligations shall stand; and Adonai will forgive her, since her father restrained her” (Numbers 30:4-5).

The ancient rabbis, medieval Jewish commentators, and modern scholars alike spent much energy re-interpreting this deeply non-egalitarian text. For example, the medieval commentator Rashi attempts to limit the age range of the young woman to which this verse might refer. He suggests that this verse excludes both a young girl and a woman who has reached the age of majority. Quoting Mishna Niddah 45b, he writes “Our Rabbis said: A girl of eleven years and a day, her vows are examined. If she knew in whose name she vowed, or in whose name she consecrated something, her vow stands. From the age of twelve years and one day, she does not need to be tested.” Essentially, Rashi says it is only the vow of an eleven-year-old girl that can be questioned.

In this series of developments, we realize that it is not only the vows of men and women that should be taken seriously, but also the vows of young men and women. Why do the commentators of later generations attach such value to youthful declarations? Why are they so concerned with their validity? I wonder if behind these seemingly fanciful statements is the very stuff of identity formation. Young people try on new aspects of self through the declarations they make.

I find that parents and educators most often approach the vows of young people with equal measures of creativity, concern, humor, and respect. These well-balanced responses allow young people to express who they are in any given moment without feeling overly constrained by the sometimes rigid walls of pragmatism or reality. This is a liberating way to be and imagine in the world.

What happens as we grow older? Do we allow ourselves this same creativity? Do we allow ourselves the same opportunities to try on new identities, to change the way that we see ourselves or act in the world? Or, do we limit ourselves through the very constraints from which we liberate our children?

On this Shabbat of vows (mistaken or otherwise), I hear a playful message from Torah: Remember the vows of your youth. Dust them off from the recesses of your mind. Try them on. Do they speak to who you have become as an adult? Do they inform how you might hear the words of your children? Do they inspire parts of yourself now dormant?

This, indeed, is the gift of Torah. Imagine well!