The Vows That We Make

More than a millennium has passed since the act of vowing engendered significant religious obligations and consequences in the Jewish world. As early as the seventh century, Rav Yehudai Gaon, one of the prolific rabbinical scholars of the time, highlights the lapsed trend of vowing by declaring: "we do not study Nedarim  [the talmudic tractate that deals with vows], nor do we know how to rule strictly or leniently in this area."  In modern lingo, a vow has become a way to express emotions of anger, exasperation, annoyance, and aggravation, while often lacking sincerity.  "I swear to God, if the Yankees don't win this game, I'm going to kill myself!" On the other hand,  some people will only make a vow––especially in God's name––if they really mean it, or not make any declaration at all. When we look back at the tradition of making a neder  (a vow) within the Hebrew Bible and within rabbinical literature, we find that vowing was a not only a common Jewish practice, but that Jews did it with a stringent binding force and severe legal consequence. 

In addition to the dedication of an entire tractate in the Mishnah and the Talmud called נדרים on the legal implications of making vows, we find circumstances in other sections of the Talmud that also deal with making a neder. Parts oftractate Ketubot deal with vows that a husband might make against his wife. In these cases, a husband makes a neder  prohibiting his wife from pleasures, property, intercourse, and rights in which she is granted in her ketubah  (marriage contract).  Such cases deal with a husband who abuses his wife through spitefully vowing away her pleasures and her legal rights. Because of this abuse, the rabbis demand that such marriages be dissolved unless the neder can somehow be annulled. The Mishnah supposes the following the scenarios: 

הַמַּדִּיר אֶת אִשְׁתּוֹ מִלֵּהָנוֹת לוֹ, עַד שְׁלֹשִׁים יוֹם, יַעֲמִיד פַּרְנָס. יָתֵר מִכֵּן, יוֹצִיא וְיִתֵּן כְּתֻבָּה

If one pronounces a vow prohibiting his wife to derive benefit from him for up to thirty days, he must set up a steward to support her. If it is more than thirty days, he must divorce her and pay her ketubah (Ketubot 7:1). 1

הַמַּדִּיר אֶת אִשְׁתּוֹ שֶׁלֹּא תִטְעוֹם אֶחָד מִכָּל הַפֵּרוֹת, יוֹצִיא וְיִתֵּן כְּתֻבָּה

If a husband pronounces a vow on his wife to the effect that she should not taste any type of fruit, he must divorce her and pay the value of the ketubah  (Ketubot 7:2). 2

הַמַּדִּיר אֶת אִשְׁתּוֹ שֶׁלֹּא תִתְקַשֵּׁט בְּאֶחָד מִכָּל הַמִּינִין, יוֹצִיא וְיִתֵּן כְּתֻבָּה

If one pronounces a vow on his wife that she should not adorn herself with jewelry or perfume, he must divorce her and pay the value of her ketubah  (Ketubot 7:3).

הַמַּדִּיר אֶת אִשְׁתּוֹ שֶׁלֹּא תֵלֵךְ לְבֵית אָבִיהָ, בִּזְמַן שֶׁהוּא עִמָּהּ בָּעִיר, חֹדֶשׁ אֶחָד יְקַיֵּם. שְׁנַיִם, יוֹצִיא וְיִתֵּן כְּתֻבָּה. וּבִזְמַן שֶׁהוּא בְּעִיר אַחֶרֶת, רֶגֶל אֶחָד יְקַיֵּם. שְׁלֹשָׁה, יוֹצִיא וְיִתֵּן כְּתֻבָּה

If one pronounces a vow prohibiting his wife to go to her father's house when they are in in the same city, the vow is acceptable if made for up to one month. If it is made for two months, then he divorces her and pays the value stated in the ketubah.

If the father is in a different city, then a vow for the term of up to one festival is acceptable, but if the duration of the vow is for three festivals or more, then he must divorce her and pay the value of the Ketubah (Ketubot 7:4). 3

הַמַּדִּיר אֶת אִשְׁתּוֹ שֶׁלֹּא תֵלֵךְ לְבֵית הָאֵבֶל אוֹ לְבֵית הַמִּשְׁתֶּה, יוֹצִיא וְיִתֵּן כְּתֻבָּה, מִפְּנֵי שֶׁנּוֹעֵל בְּפָנֶיהָ

If one pronounces a vow prohibiting his wife to go to the house of mourning or to the house of feasting (a wedding), then he should divorce her [immediately] and pay the value of the ketubah. This is because by doing so, he locks the door in front of her [so to speak] (Ketubot 7:5). 

הַמַּדִּיר אֶת אִשְׁתּוֹ מִתַּשְׁמִישׁ הַמִּטָּה בֵּית שַׁמַּאי אוֹמְרִים, שְׁתֵּי שַׁבָּתוֹת. בֵּית הִלֵּל אוֹמְרִים, שַׁבָּת אֶחָת

If one pronounces a vow prohibiting his wife from conjugal relations with him, the house of Shamai says that if the term of the vow was up to two weeks, he need not divorce her. The house of Hillel says that if the term was no longer than one week, then he need not divorce her (Ketubot 5:6). 

These discussions on abusive vowing might not directly translate to the modern world in which vowing holds little bearing. Notwithstanding, we can draw out key values from the texts that offer us sound advice for fostering healthy marriages. It might seem difficult to abide by the legal code set out in tractate Ketubot, but we can abide by the spirit of the law. 

Spousal abuse comes in many forms. While we are most apt to consider physical battery as a determining qualifier, abuse can be emotional and verbal. Abuse also need not be aggressive, but can manifest in passive aggressive forms. Today, abusing a loved one through vows may be a difficult concept to grasp. Jewish men no longer make prohibitory vows like the ones we see in the Mishnah. But we do find similar types of abuse in our time; and it is not just the husband who abuses his spouse. When an individual spitefully deprives his or her spouse of any type of physical, material, social, or familial pleasure, divorce may certainly be warranted. Love is about fostering these pleasures with each other, and not about depriving one another from them.

To understand the rabbinic legacy with which these texts leave us, we need only reword the rabbinic vows to become the promises that we make to each other. Vowing can enrich our covenantal relationships with each other and with God when we vow with intentionality and with love. No longer should we see vows in the light of prohibition or dedication, but rather with commitment to our partners. Reimagining the Mishnah for the modern Jew, our tradition might read:

When couples vow to enrich each others lives with the benefits of love; when they vow to commit to healthy intimacy with each other; when they vow to enjoy food together; when they vow to adorn each other with gifts; when they vow to love and support each other's families; when they vow to celebrate the joys in the lives of their friends and families together; and when they vow to join together to support their communities in times of mourning; then with the blessing of the the One who ordains love in the world, their marriage will know love, companionship, happiness, and tranquility.

1.  The Mishnah goes onto cite the opinion of Rabbi Yehuda that: "ר' יהודה אומר: בישראל, יום אחד יקיים, שנים יוציא ויתן כתובה, ובכהן, שנים יקיים, שלשה יוציא ויתן כתובה. In the case of a regular Jew, if the duration of the vow was for only one day then he should keep her as his wife, but if it was for two days or more he must divorce her and pay the value of her ketubah. For a Kohen, if the term of the vow was for two days he should keep her, but if it was for three, then he must divorce her and pay the value of her ketubah

2.  The Mishnah continues by citing the opinion of Rabbi Yossi that:"בעניות שלא נתן קצבה, ובעשירות שלשים יום. In the case of a poor women, he must divorce his wife only if he did not give a certain time limit for the duration of the vow; whereas in regard to wealthy women, the maximum term is thirty days." This is because a wealthy woman would be accustomed to adornment, and the vow would simply be to deprive her something she is used to. For a wife who is rich, this vow would be equivalent to a vow in which a husband makes in the first part of the Mishnah to prohibit her from deriving benefit from him. But if the couple is poor, then effect of the husband vow is different because the husband would not be able to afford adornment at all. In the case of a poor couple, the effect of the husband's vow would be similar to the case of tasting any type fruit in the second part of the Mishnah. That is to say that he is vowing to deny her a simple pleasure, an act of spousal cruelty.

3.  The Mishnah further speculates that "טוען משום דבר אחר רשאי, if the husband claims that he pronounced the vow because of something else, then he is permitted to make this vow without the consequence of being forced to divorce her." The Gemara clarifies that the husband would forbid her to go to the house of mourning and feasting because of a legitimate claim that there are בני אדם פרוצין שמצויין שם, promiscuous men found there.

The Breakup (Gittin 90a-b)

The bonds that hold relationships and marriages together may seem strong, but sometimes they are more fragile than we are willing to admit.  In our society couples break up for a variety of well-founded reasons. For example: 

-  people fall out of love

- partners realize they are physically incompatible

- one's mental illness might drive the other away

- an individual might be physically abusive to his or her spouse

- one's addiction to drugs or alcohol might push away a partner

Yet trivial things also cause many relationships to end. We often let minor  traits, habits, and circumstances put a wedge between ourselves and our mates. Nothing demonstrates the nature of this culture better than Jerry Seinfeld, who parts ways from his girlfriends for an array of ridiculous reasons:

 - his girlfriend eats one pea at a time

- his friend George accidentally sees his girlfriend naked

- his girlfriend likes a cotton dockers commercial

- his parents like his girlfriend

- his girlfriend has "man-hands"

- his girlfriend is a "sentence-finisher"

Not surprisingly, Jerry never seems to be able to settle down and find the right woman. In the only instance where he finds a girl with whom he thinks he can spend the rest of his life, he breaks up with her because she is "too much like him!" If we follow Jerry's example of always looking for the better deal, we are likely to end up alone. On the other hand,  if we fail to cut the ties of a caustic relationship, we might become wed to misery. 

The Talmudin Gittin  90a-b offers some Jewish wisdom in a debate about what grounds warrant a man to divorce his wife. Hillel and Shamai frame this debate based on the following verse from Torah: 

כִּי-יִקַּח אִישׁ אִשָּׁה, וּבְעָלָהּ; וְהָיָה אִם-לֹא תִמְצָא-חֵן בְּעֵינָיו, כִּי-מָצָא בָהּ עֶרְוַת דָּבָר--וְכָתַב לָהּ סֵפֶר כְּרִיתֻת וְנָתַן בְּיָדָהּ

If a man takes a wife, and he eventually no longer finds her pleasing because of an adulterous matter, he writes her a bill of divorce and puts it into her hand (Deuteronomy 24:1)

The school of Shamai argues for a literal interpretation of the text, and teaches that a man can only divorce his wife on account of an adulterous matter. The school of Hillel, on the other hand, offers a more creative and interpretive reading of the text. Hillel plays on the seemingly superfluous word in the Torah "matter (דָּבָר)." He argues that the text is ambiguous so as to indicate that a man can divorce his wife either on account of adultery (עֶרְוַה), or simply because of any matter at all (דָּבָר). Hillel goes as far as saying that a man can divorce his wife for "burning or over-salting the food that she cooks for him (אפילו הקדיחה תבשילו)!" Seinfeld would appear to be a disciple of Hillel in regard to permissible reasons for ending relationships. 

The discussion in the Gemara ends by relating a parallel teaching intended to shape this whole debate. Rav Yochanan teaches that "שנאוי המשלח, the one who sends away his wife without a compelling reason is despised by God!" This opinion appears as somewhat of a middle ground between Shamai and Hillel. There will be reasons other than adulterous matters (ערוות דבר) that marriages should end, but the grounds for divorce should not be frivolous (like a wife who burns her husbands cooking). 

While Hillel and Shamai refer specifically to cases of matrimonial divorce, we might consider this lesson as a model for all romantic relationships. When we commit ourselves to another person, we invest our trust, our emotions, and our physical selves. Such a covenant leaves both parties emotionally and spiritually vulnerable. When we find it necessary to break up with our partners, let us not forget to do so with a heightened sensitivity to the feelings of our significant others.  Rav Elezar teaches us at the end of this section that"כל מגרש אשתו רשונה אפילו מזבח מורד עליו דמעות, when a man divorces his wife, he causes the Temple altar to be covered in God's tears." The spark of God exists within every friendship and relationship. When we dissolve the bonds that tie two people together, we extinguish that spark. In endingrelationships, we should do so with compassion, and not out of spite and levity. 

The In-Laws

Why was the Garden of Eden called Paradise? Because neither Adam nor Eve had in-laws!

Growing up watching sitcoms, I observed that the biggest nemesis to a sitcom spouse is his or her mother in-law. These yentas  always find ways to crawl under the skin of their sons and daughters in-law, criticizing cooking, making off-color comments, and suggesting that they are not quite good enough to be in the family. The main take away from this culture: stay as far away as possible from your in-laws' house! The Talmud advises otherwise!

In chapter five of Masechet Ketubot, the topics focus on vows that a husband might make concerning his wife; in Ketubot 71b, the Mishnah describes the scenario of המדיר את אשתו שלא תלך לבית אביה...  A husband who vows that[he and] his wife will not go visit his in-laws

The Mishnah condemns any such statement, and encourages a husband to permit his wife to visit her parents at least once a month if they live in the same city. And if they reside in different cities, at least on one of the three annual festivals (Shavuot, Sukkot, and Passover). 

The legal discussion seems to be driven by the age-old aversion of husbands to see their in-laws. Despite a husband's protest, the Jewish tradition here emphasizes the importance of a wife being allowed to visit her parents on a regular basis. The rabbis viewed  prolonged deprivation of familial love as a cruel act that warrants divorce. 

The issue of parental visitation might not serve as grounds for divorce nowadays, but it surely matters in regard to healthy relationships. As a recently married couple, Stephanie and I have already worked out a system for splitting up the holidays. We visit her family for Thanksgiving and Hannukah (and whenever we happen to be in the Boston area), and my family for Passover, and for regular dinners (we live about 25 minutes away). Despite our seemingly workable system, visits to our respective in-laws can be emotionally taxing. 

Stephanie and I both enjoy our own respective family dynamics, but it's sometimes hard to fully appreciate each others. In my own life, my parents have proven that in-laws become an important part of their partners' lives. I watch as my mother treats my paternal grandfather Poppi with the same love and care that she treated her own father. This is the kind of ideal relationship to which I think the Mishnah is hinting!  

Family Time (Ketubot 62b)

Family Time (Ketubot 62b)

We live in a world today where professionals spend more time at the office than at home with their families. Some of us may at least have weekends with our loved ones, while others dedicate even the hours of Shabbat to their work. This epidemic of distance from the people we ought to be with most often is nothing new. While at one point in time, the work days were shorter, finding family time has always been an issue. As I transition from rabbinical student to rabbi, I too will be confronting the issue of family time more deeply. Any congregation that I may serve will demand a great deal of my day. Designating time with my family will need to be one of my utmost priorities. 

In previous discussions, I have pointed out that the rabbis of old suggested that wives prefer intimate time with their husbands over a higher paying career. I also mentioned that for students of Torah who recieve their wives' permission to go off and study,  Rav Yochanan (30-90 CE) recommend that they spend two months at home for every month that they are away. In Ketubot 62b, the Gemara goes onto suggest another point of view. Despite the wise advice of Rav Yochanan, Rav Adda bar Ahava (c. 300 CE)  rebuffs that students of Torah in his time can spend two or three years away from home when they have their wives' permission (1).  Commenting on this work-centered mentality, the Gemara adds an interesting note:  

ועבדי עובדא בנפשייהו

We might translate this literally to mean: "They did this on their own accord (ועשו מעשה בעצמם)." Yet Rashi offers a compelling explanation of the word בנפשייהו based on the subsequent aggadah (lore) that follows. Rashi suggests that "והוא בא להם ליטול מהם נפשות, שנענשים ומתים, they went and did this at the expense of their own lives, knowing that they would be punished with death." Essentially, students of Talmud in Babylonia put their work before their families knowing that they or their loved ones might receive a death sentence.  

To illustrate this, the Talmud recounts aggada (lore)  that teaches us about the repercussions of putting our work before our family.  In the first instance, a scholar puts off sexual relations with his bride so that he can become a learned scholar; his punishment is coming home to a wife too old to have children. The punishment of death is thus rendered on the life of his potential child. In another story, Rav Chananya the son of Chachinai studies for twelve years in the academy without returning home. When his wife finally lays her eyes on him, her excitement causes her heart to give out. Rav Chama bar Bisa, who similarly went away to study for twelve years, happens to sit and study with his son Rav Oshaya at the yeshiva without recognizing the grown face of his boy. 

The gist is simple and clear: despite our cultural tendencies towards being overworked, we ought to remember that family comes first! If we fail to find time for our family, we may not be punished with death, but we may find our relationships fractured, our families less healthy, and our lives bereft of love. 

(1) While the Vilna Shas notes that this is said in the name of Rav, the texts of Rosh and Ran omit the word   אמר רב (in the name of Rav). Further evidence that the original text was likely not in Rav's name can be found earlier in the Gemara, where Rav recommends that for every month away at study, a student should spend one month at home. 

A Woman's Responsibilities in Marriage (Ketubot 59b-60a)

In less than four months, I will be a married man! The thought of this serious life change both excites me and scares me. In many ways, I think my relationship with my fiancée Stephanie will remain the same. After all, we already have lived together for about two years. Yet the spiritual bond that will link us as we "tie the knot" will transform both of us in ways that I can only imagine. Our marriage will bring not only a Facebook status change, but a spiritual, social, and legal changing of our identities. We will each have new responsibilities toward one another, and toward our family unit (which will hopefully grow).

Today I studied the rabbinic perception of a woman's responsibilities toward her husband. To put it mildly, times have changed, especially for progressive Jews like myself who view a woman's role in a marriage as more or less equal (but perhaps different) to that of her husband. Talmudic viewpoints (ranging in this discussion from about 100 CE to 500 CE) offer a more "traditional" model for the functions of a woman. I would deem the views of some of sages as chauvinistic to say the least. Rabbi Hiyya, for example, suggests that wives function merely as showpieces for their husbands. In disagreeing with the majority, he argues "אין אשה אלא ליופי, women are only for their beauty." To this end, the woman's role visa vis her husband is only to gladly recieve the jewlery that her husband adorns her with. Yet just as modern American Jews tend to frown on trophy wives, so too did the rabbinic sages reject Hiyya's relegation of woman as mere objects of beauty. The main part of the talmudic discussion focuses on the active role woman should play in a marriage.

The Suggya (passage) in Ketubot 59b opens with a discussion from the Mishnah (compiled in about 200 CE), an early Jewish legal compendium upon which later sages (200-500 CE) will comment. The Mishnah lists seven primary responsibilities a woman has toward her husband:

• טוחנת- grinding (flour or corn)
• אופה– baking bread
• מכבסת– laundering the clothing
• מבשלת– cooking
• מניקה nursing the children
• מצעת לו המטה – making the bed
• עושה בצמר– working with wool

Clearly, I will not be expecting Stephanie to grind her own flour. Even the later rabbinic sages appear surprised to think that would be a realistic responsibility. They exclaim: "טוחנת סלקא דעתך, Can it even enter your mind that a wife actually grinds grain?" By the same token, we would likely not expect wives today to work with wool and make clothing for their grooms. The issue of nursing raises a rabbinic debate that resembles the recent shocking Time Magazine cover asking "Are You Mom Enough?," and explicitly showing a five year old child sucking from his mother's breast. Like the provocative article, the rabbis discuss the age at which it becomes inappropriate to continue nursing. Rabbi Eleazar suggests that "an infant can continue nursing until 24 months." Anything after that, he declares שקץ (sheketz), an abominable thing. Rabbi Yehoshua, by contrast, argues that a child can be nursed up to four or five years!  The debate about breastfeeding evokes a heated debate among the rabbis. They continue to quibble over the finer points of permisssability and social acceptability of all sorts of nursing issues. Reflecting on back on all the conversations that Stephanie and I have had together, I don't think we have ever once discussed whether she will breast feed our children, and the appropriate amount of time to do so (God willing we have a few). Is this a normal conversation for couples to have before they enter into a marriage? Will the topic spark as much debate within our household as it does in the Gemara? The Shulchan Aruch, the definitive code of Jewish law (written by Joseph Karo in the 16th Century), decrees that we should follow Eliezer's suggestion of two years, and continue up to four or five as Yehoshua rules, only if the child is sick (Yoreh Deah 81:7). This sounds like a rather reasonable proposition.


The one task on the list of rabbinicly perscribed wifely responsibilities that I will delegate exclusivly to Stephanie is the making of the bed. Since we first started dating, I have been keenly aware that Stephanie requires  perfectly made up sleeping quarters. Every morning she ornatly makes hosptial corners on the sheets, lines the blanket and comforter up perfectly, and stacks the pillows in a very specific arangement. Since we moved in together, I have attempted to make the bed several times only to find that she would remake it. My efforts to learn her bed-making routine have been to no avail. I have given up in this regard, and will leave her to this rabbinically mandated responsibility.

While only women posses the biological capability to nurse children, in todays time the remaining list of duties can be shared or delegated to a third party. We can and should reinterpret this list of responsibilities as contemporary discussion points for the roles and obligations we carry into our relationships.