That said, I’ve never much
had the urge to make oaths. I have, on occasion, said an intention-empty (and
regrettable) “I swear to God.”
The only situation in
which I can imagine even undertaking an oath of any kind would be if I were
asked to put my hand on the Bible and swear to tell the truth, the whole truth,
and nothing but the truth, so help me God in court as they do in TV court
dramas. Which got me wondering, does that really happen anymore and how—this
country having been established by some pretty legalistic Bible devotees—did it
ever get started in the first place?
So, I did some research
and discovered the following:
The phrase about telling
the truth, the whole truth, and nothing has been standard trial language in Britain since the Middle Ages, and the Puritans
brought it with them to the New World . In his 1787
essay “On Test Laws, Oaths of Allegiance and Abjuration, and Partial Exclusions
from Office,” Noah Webster both referenced the phrase and, if I get his meaning
at all (which I may not: I struggle, in this passage, with the legal or moral
or philosophical ramifications of the word new),
more or less dismissed its demands: “An oath creates no new obligation. A
witness, who swears to tell the whole truth, is under no new obligation to tell
the whole truth. An oath reminds him of his duty; he swears to do as he ought
to do; that is, he adds an express promise to an implied one. A moral obligation
is not capable of addition or diminution.”
Nevertheless, both the language and the practice of
swearing on the Bible made it into John Bouvier’s Law Dictionary, the first wholly American, as distinguished from
British, dictionary of legal terms and practices, published in 1839. Bouvier
defined an oath as “A declaration made according to law, before a competent
tribunal or officer, to tell the truth; or it is the act of one who, when
lawfully required to tell the truth, takes God to witness that what he says is true.
It is a religious act by which the party invokes God not only to witness the
truth and sincerity of his promise...”
Bouvier went on to say “It is proper to distinguish
two things in oaths; 1. The invocation by which the God of truth, who knows all
things, is taken to witness. 2. The imprecation by which he is asked as a just
and all-powerful being, to punish perjury. 3. The commencement of an oath is
made by the party taking hold of the book, after being required by the officer
to do so, and ends generally with the words, ‘so help you God,’ and kissing the
book, when the form used is that of swearing on the Evangelists.”
There were, according to
Bouvier, various other forms that such an oath might take that I found
enlightening—both about the habits of our early country and about oath-taking
in general. He details two variations—“the witness or party promising holding
up his right hand while the officer repeats to him, ‘You do swear by Almighty
God, the searcher of hearts, that,’ &c., ‘And this as you shall answer to
God at the great day’” and what’s referred to as an affirmation, when “the
officer repeats, ‘You do solemnly, sincerely, and truly declare and affirm,
that,’ &c.”
(I would like to get in
the habit of using &c instead of etc., by the way. Looks so
oldfashiondy-nice.)
Bouvier was also careful
to stipulate that “The oath, however, may be varied in any other form, in order
to conform to the religious opinions of the person who takes it.”
Though the habit of
putting one’s hand on a Bible to swear an oath has survived into modern times,
Quakers have been objecting to since the country’s early days—citing, according
to an excellent Slate article I read, not Jesus in his mountainside sermon but
his brother James’s more emphatic encapsulation of it: “Above all, my brothers
and sisters, do not swear—not by heaven or by earth or by anything else. All
you need to say is a simple ‘Yes’ or ‘No.’ Otherwise you will be condemned”
(James 5:12)—and it’s now possible, as Bouvier suggests it may in theory always have
been, for you to use a different book or, I’m guessing, none at all.
That’s what I guess I’d
do, upon all this consideration, if I had to testify in court and were asked to
put my hand on the Bible or say "so help me God."
“No thanks,” I’d say. “I
don’t swear oaths on God or books. But yeah, I’ll tell the truth, to the best of my memory. That'll have to be enough.”
Interesting information. I've wondered about the Bible's stance on oath taking. What is the reason the Bible councils us not to swear an oath to God, I wonder, if your intent is to keep it? Does this acknowledge the very intrinsic sinful nature of man's heart? Is this saying that though you think you will and plan to tell the truth, the truth is not in you or is beyond your capabilities? Does this imply that even for the most truthful, a good lawyer will eventually ask you something you will not answer truthfully? Somehow, I think that this it is none of that. Maybe it has to do with the reverence for the name of God and frivolous uses of it. Maybe it has to do with the nature of truth; that it is beyond the grasp of man. Maybe He dislikes that an oath implies an ability to know the future in the way that he dislikes any of our attempts to play god.
ReplyDeleteIs failing to keep an oath to God a special kind of sin that separates us from him more than other sins? If so, then I am in a world of hurt because I struggle with habitual sin and addiction and I have said many times in my heart, "This time Lord… this time I promise will do better…" and then failed. God, have mercy on me… a sinner!
I don't think it has anything to do with taking God's name in vain, since Jesus goes out of his way to give examples of swearing by the Earth or Jerusalem or one's head--all equally to be avoided.
ReplyDeleteI also think that telling God, "This time, Lord, I promise I'll do better...," is maybe not the same as saying, to someone else, "I swear on the Lord's name--or, I swear to God--that I'll do such and such." The latter one seems to be what Jesus is talking about in the passage.
Your prayer dilemma with addiction touches me. Perhaps your interior voice sees it differently, but it doesn't sound like an oath to me. More like a plea for help. Perhaps it would help you pray if you more overtly prayed it that way--kind of like the man who prayed, "Help my unbelief!" Something less like "I promise I'm never goin g to do this again," and more like "Help me not doe this again!"