It tells us that the commandments shouldn't feel like an antiquated edict, something ignored and forgotten. Instead, they should feel brand new, urgent, something everyone rushes to understand and embrace. Doesn't that shift your perspective? It’s not about blindly following rules, but about constantly renewing our relationship with these teachings.
And then comes this fascinating idea – the power of taking an oath against our own yetzer hara, that inner voice of temptation, our "evil inclination." The text continues, "upon your heart": From here R. Yoshiyah was wont to adduce: A man should beswear his (evil) inclination (not to do what is forbidden.)
Think of it like this: we all have that little voice whispering, nudging us towards things we know aren’t good for us. What if we could take a stand, make a promise, a vow to resist? It sounds powerful. The Sifrei Devarim goes on to illustrate this with examples from our most revered figures. We see Abraham, in Genesis 14:22-23, declaring, "I lift my hand (in oath) to the L-rd, G-d on high, Possessor of heaven and earth: Nothing (shall I take), from a thread until a sandal latchet, nor shall I take anything that is yours." He’s refusing to benefit from his victory in battle, making a public commitment to integrity.
Then there’s Boaz, in Ruth 3:13, promising Ruth protection with the words, "(I swear) 'As the L-rd lives, lie (here with me, unmolested) until the morning…'" He's not just making a promise; he's invoking the Divine to guarantee his honorable intentions.
Even David, in 1 Samuel 26:10, as he restrains Avishai from killing Saul, proclaims, "(I swear) as the L-rd lives: The L-rd will strike him with plague, or his day will come and he will die, or he will go forth in battle and he will perish." David is entrusting Saul's fate to God, refusing to take matters into his own hands.
And Elisha, in 2 Kings 5:16, refuses payment, saying "(I swear) as the L-rd lives, before whom I have stood, I shall not take (any emolument, etc.”). He’s maintaining his prophetic integrity by rejecting personal gain.
These weren't just casual promises. They were declarations, oaths sworn with conviction, binding themselves to a higher standard. They were, in essence, binding their yetzer hara.
But here's a twist. The text points out that just as the righteous make oaths against their evil inclination, the wicked do the opposite. They swear to indulge it. As we see with Gehazi, Elisha's servant, in 2 Kings 5:20, "As the L-rd lives, I shall run after him and take something from him!" He’s actively vowing to pursue his greed.
It’s a powerful and sobering thought: Our words have immense power. They can bind us to righteousness or to ruin. What are we binding ourselves to? What oaths, spoken or unspoken, are we making every day?
So, the next time you're faced with a difficult choice, maybe consider channeling Abraham, Boaz, David or Elisha. Maybe consider making a conscious, heartfelt oath – a promise to yourself, and to something greater – to choose the path of integrity, of kindness, of righteousness. It might just be the most powerful thing you do all day.