Promising

A young man and young woman stand before friends and relatives and promise to be faithful to each other so long as they both shall live—an awesome moment. In a brief but dignified service a father and mother promise their child to the Lord. A business promises satisfaction or your money back. A young, dying widow in her last hours asks her brother, already married with two children, to promise to raise her child as his own. What is the good of making promises? Are there levels of promising, with levels of moral obligation? How are we to distinguish promising from vow making? How does promising affect our relation with God and others? Is it ever right, perhaps even holy, to break a promise? What happens when we do?

Promises, Vows and Oaths

Promises are voluntary obligations made in a social context to person or group who can anticipate some benefit or blessing. A promise is more than a mere expression of intention (for example, “I would like to marry you”); it is a commitment, a self-imposed investment of one’s person and/or resources. Although the promisee has a right to expect some performance, he or she can waive the option and release the promiser from the commitment.

The words or signs of a promise are charged with the full force of our personalities. This is a uniquely human attribute (neither dogs nor dolphins make promises)—as is acknowledged both by those who hold faith in God and by those who do not (compare Nietzsche, p.38).

Vows and oaths are both similar to and different from promises; it is not surprising that the two are often confused. As in the case of promises, these are an investment of the person with awesome consequences. An oath is similar to a vow except that in making an oath, one usually appeals to something, such as the Bible, to verify the utter determination with which one speaks. In the play A Man for All Seasons the chancellor of England Thomas More, tempted to break his vow and oath to the church and Christ by approving the divorce of the queen, says to his daughter, “When a man takes an oath, Meg, he’s holding his own self in his own hands. Like water. And if he opens his fingers then—he needn’t hope to find himself again” (emphasis mine).

We do not break vows (with or without oaths) so much as we break ourselves against them. But while similar to promises in expressing personal decision, vows and oaths need not be made in a social context or to another person. A childless woman might vow to give her child back to God if she is able to conceive (for example, Hannah in 1 Samuel 1:11). With a vow there may be no one (except God) to overhear the commitment, and there may be no one else who can release you from having made it, even if the vow is overheard by witnesses. A vow is a “self-imposed commitment to do something, which creates a right on the part of nobody” (Robins, p. 85).

Significantly, the traditional marriage service contains both promises and vows, though most weddings ignore the distinction. The promises are usually drawn out with questions: “Do you take this man/woman . . . to love and to cherish, so long as you both shall live?” The answer, “I do,” is an agreement to a promise between the bride and groom that gives each an expectation of performance and, technically, the right to release the other for nonperformance. In other words, the promise is both mutual and conditional; the failure to be faithful—breaking the promise—could lead to being released from the promise by the injured party.

The vows, which usually follow the questions, go further. Here the bride and groom each say, “I take you to be my wedded wife/husband.” It is not a performance contract that can be easily broken by noncompliance with the terms. Nor is it merely an exchange of promises made to each other. These are irrevocable vows made in the presence of God. Each hears the other’s vow but does not respond with anything like “I accept the terms of your commitment.” They are expressions of what this person gives in the relationship, regardless of what he or she gets, with no conditions, certainly not the unwritten ones that are present in most weddings today: “so long as we both shall love” or “so long as you meet my emotional and sexual needs.” The other party can release me from my promise but not my vow. In The Mystery of Marriage Mike Mason wisely observes that we make vows because we know we cannot keep the promises! So in a deep sense we do not keep the vows; they keep us. They keep us focused on promise keeping.

Other examples of vows that are distinct from promises include the vow sometimes made on a sickbed (for example, “If I am healed, I will go into the ministry”) or the one of a less-favored member in a family (again made privately and unconditionally) to prove his or her superiority over a favored sibling. Negative vows are made, for example, to avenge an enemy, or to never be like one’s mother, which almost always leads to a disturbing measure of replication.

Vows are dangerous. Many family problems originate in a secret vow that wreaks havoc generation after generation. Some vows have consequences far beyond what was intended. In the Bible Jephthah, the charismatic leader of Israel, vowed in battle to offer to God whatever came through the door of his house to greet him if the Ammonites were given into his hands—not knowing he would be welcomed by his virgin daughter (Judges 11:29-40).

Why Make Promises?

Promises can be short-term or long-term, lighthearted or solemn, unilateral or mutual. Promises can be made between individuals, between groups and between an individual and a group (as is the case with political and business promises). Promises can be formalized in written contracts or made simply by speaking. Cultures differ in this matter. In parts of Asia one’s word and a handshake will confirm a million-dollar business promise, whereas in North America the deal must be formalized in writing and notarized, perhaps because a person’s word cannot be taken at face value. Promises can be extracted under duress (a deathbed promise), offered unwisely when intoxicated (with liquor or infatuation) or made thoughtfully and soberly “in the fear of God” (as the old marriage service puts it). Attitudes toward promise keeping range from the cynical quip “Promises are made to be broken” to the reverent fidelity of a man who, when asked why he continues to visit his ailing wife in the hospital, though she barely recognizes him, replies, “I made a promise.”

Promises are critical to living with faith, hope and love. These three Christian virtues are not merely good for Christians; they are fundamental to living a genuinely human existence. Faith means trust; hope means having a future prospect; love means living communally for others. These virtues are as basic to running an organization (see Organizational Values) as to maintaining relationships.

Promising is needed for relational trust. We have no basis for relying on another person apart from knowing his or her intention through promising. There can be no collaboration of human beings without it. Lewis Smedes says, “The future of the human family rides on the fragile fibers of a promise spoken” (p. 17). Without promising we could only perceive an instance of a person’s behavior and would have no foundation for making plans that require reliability and predictability. Imagine living in a family in which you never knew from day to day whether others were for or against you. A political party that makes no promises because it has no intentions is surely less trustworthy than one that makes promises that will be hard to keep. Just as we have faith in God because of God’s promises, so we have trust in others—and hope.

Promising is critical to having a future with hope. According to Smedes, paraphrasing Hannah Arendt, “The only way to overcome the unpredictability of your future is the power of promising. If forgiving is the only remedy for a painful past, promising is the only remedy for your uncertain future” (p. 16). Without promises we would live instantaneous lives, inventing meaning day by day because we cannot forecast the future. In a truly awesome way the Creator has permitted us to determine our futures, albeit in a limited way, by making promises. G. K. Chesterton says the person who makes a vow “makes an appointment with himself at some distant time or place” (quoted in Smedes, p. 18). This is the paradox of promising: we must give up freedom (to keep all our options open) to gain the freedom of determining to be present to another in the future.

Promising is needed for full expression of love. Promising defines corporate and social life. Without it we have to invent community instant by instant. For example, cohabiting is togetherness without promises and therefore is a fragile, temporary community that is less than true love. “If you love me, you will marry me” is an ancient heart cry founded on wisdom; love makes promises. Since couples keep changing over the years, promises can keep them growing in love.

Promises are also the invisible warp and woof of family life, holding people together through the inevitable transitions from infancy to empty nesting, but always belonging. The implicit promise of family life is that we will be there for each other whether we deserve it or not. Likewise social, business and political life can thrive only on promise making and promise keeping. Without promising the social fabric would disintegrate. Human transactions would be only as reliable as the intention of the moment. It is critical that we understand and recover the disappearing art of making promises.Extensive psychological, philosophical and sociological study has been undertaken to understand how we go about making I-promise expressions (Vitek; Robins). What is needed in addition to this is a theology of promising.

Holy Promises

Promising takes us to the heart of God and, not surprisingly, reveals the extent to which we are God-imaging creatures. We are less than human when we stop promising, more like God when we engage in promising.

We have a promise-making God. In the Old Testament promise preceded the law. Before God instructed his people on how to live (the Ten Commandments), God addressed them with a promise—the covenant—that brought dignity, identity and hope. The promise given to Abraham determined the whole future of Israel and those who become children of Abraham through faith in Jesus Christ. In general, the promise of God has three parts: a presence, a people and a place. God promises to be with us, to bless us with the dignity of being God’s people and to give us a place to belong. The promise of a presence is expressed in statements like “My Presence will go with you” (Exodus 33:14) and “I am with you” (Genesis 28:15). The promise of a people came first with the miracle family given to Abraham, a family that would become a people belonging to God through which even the Gentiles would be blessed (Genesis 15:5; Genesis 22:18). The promise of a place to belong is found first in the gift of the land (Genesis 15:18), a promise conditional on obedience. But the covenant itself (the relationship) and the promise (the intention behind it) were unconditional. No matter what Israel did, God would keep his promise.

God keeps his promises. To keep the basic promise given to Abraham (Genesis 12:1-3; Genesis 15:1, 4-5; Genesis 17:1-16) and the people of God, God rescued the Hebrew slaves from Egypt, returned his exiles from Babylon and sent his own Son into the world (Galatians 3:14). The promise of God’s presence is fulfilled in the first coming of Jesus, through the gift of the Holy Spirit, who is called “what my Father has promised” (Luke 24:49; compare Acts 1:4; Acts 2:33), and in the Second Coming of Jesus—the visible, glorious and universal revelation of Jesus at the end of human history. God kept his promise of a people by forming something greater than national Israel: the new international, interracial fellowship created by Jesus (Ephes. 2:15). In the New Testament the ultimate place to belong is not a piece of land but the city of God in the new heaven and the new earth (Hebrews 11:13-16). All of God’s promises are “ `Yes’ in Christ” (2 Cor. 1:20).

Godlike people make promises and keep them. Because we are made in the image of God, our speaking expresses the intent of our souls through words fraught with unavoidable consequences. When an Israelite pronounced a blessing (one form of promising), he or she did not merely offer good wishes for the future. Rather, the soul was offered and something happened (Genesis 48:15; Pedersen, 1:200). Isaac could not recall the blessing he gave to Jacob, even though it was accomplished by deception, because Isaac had put himself into it. To withdraw his blessing would be to destroy himself; further, he intuitively understood the hand of God in it all. By his blessing Isaac made Jacob lord over Esau (Genesis 27:37). Such speech is not only powerful; it is deeply revealing of the person who speaks. When we speak, the person comes out of the mouth.

Promises, vows and oaths reveal one’s integrity. When words become trivialized—as has happened in the Western world—we think we must convince people that we really mean it by making oaths in the strength of something outside of ourselves, such as a sacred object. To this Jesus says simply, “Let your `Yes’ be `Yes,’ and your `No,’ `No’” (Matthew 5:37). While this may not mean we should refuse to sign a contract or swear on the Bible in court if required, it does mean we should become the kind of people who do not need these devices because our words are utterly reliable—because we are.

Breaking Promises

Can and should promises be broken? Are there promises that should never have been made, and others that should not be kept?

First, a promise implies intent and knowing the intent of one’s heart. Therefore a promise made under the influence of alcohol or romantic infatuation is something less than a full-hearted promise. We cannot be absolved of responsibility, however, for giving our consciousness away to a chemical substance or to the chemistry of a relationship. Especially in the case of marriage made “under the influence,” one should, in the words of the English Puritan William Perkins, “repent of that his bad entrance [to that calling] and to do the duties of his calling with diligence and good conscience, waiting after this for further approbation from God, and also from men: which when he has in any measure obtained, he may with good conscience proceed in his calling” (Perkins, p. 762). A child’s promise, while important, cannot be treated the same as an adult promise. It would be tragic for children to be held to vows from which they can never recover, even though they were not old enough to know what they were doing.

Second, a promise made under duress, such as a deathbed promise extracted under the emotions of impending grief, violates the voluntary aspect of such an obligation. Being forced or manipulated into a shotgun wedding, agreeing to raise someone’s children or avenge someone’s enemy, or keeping an unhealthy family secret denies the essential voluntary nature of promise making. In the case of a deathbed promise, the promisee is not in a position (after death) to waive the rights she or he presumably has been given by the promiser.

Third, a promise that is simply wrong and requires an immoral act for its fulfillment may, indeed must, be broken, albeit with sorrow and repentance, for to break one’s word is to damage trust, hope and community and to sin against our own persons. Only when faith, hope and love are better served by confessing one’s bad promise should such desperate action be taken. A significant biblical example of breaking a promise for a higher morality is the refusal of the Israelites to kill Jonathan for eating honey even though King Saul had bound them under oath to curse anyone who ate before evening (1 Samuel 14:24-30).

All of these examples reinforce that promises are godlike things not to be rattled off in a newspaper advertisement to get customers by deception, mumbled in front of a justice of the peace to fulfill a duty, gushed in a romantic relationship in order to have sex or extracted from another human being under emotional pressure to secure care for your children. Promising is dealing with souls, yours and others, promisers and promisees. One of the real indications of true godliness is the promises we make and keep. As Smedes says, “Promise keeping is a powerful means of grace in a time when people hardly depend on each other to remember and live by their word” (p. 16).

» See also: Contracts

» See also: Friendship

» See also: Marriage

» See also: Speaking

Resources and References

M. Baker, ed., The Family: Changing Trends in Canada (Toronto: McGraw-Hill Ryerson, 1984); M. Mason, The Mystery of Marriage (Portland, Ore.: Multnomah, 1985); F. Nietzsche, On the Genealogy of Morality, ed. K. Ansell-Pearson, trans. C. Diethe (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1994); J. Pedersen, Israel: Its Life and Culture, 4 vols. (London: Oxford University Press, 1963); W. Perkins, “A Treatise of the Vocations or Callings of Men, with the Sorts and Kinds of Them, and the Right Use Thereof,” in The Works of That Famous and Worthy Minister of Christ in the University of Cambridge (London: John Legatt, 1626) 748-79; M. H. Robins, Promising, Intending and Moral Autonomy (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1984); L. B. Smedes, “The Power of Promising,” Christianity Today 27 (21 January 1983) 16-19; W. Vitek, Promising (Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1993); H. W. Wolff, Anthropology of the Old Testament, trans. M. Kohl (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1964).

—R. Paul Stevens