John Chrysostom
I wish to address you once more on the topic of eliminating the harmful practice of swearing from your hearts. To achieve this, I must reiterate my prior request. Imagine, if you will, that each individual takes the severed head of John, still stained with fresh blood, home with them, envisioning it speaking a powerful message: ‘Detest my murderer—the oath.’ The condemnation that failed to deter came from an oath instead; what the wrath of the oppressor could not achieve, the obligation of an oath accomplished. Though the tyrant accepted the rebuke with ease, when he committed to an oath, he ultimately severed that sacred head. I urge you once again, as I will continue to do, that we carry this head with us wherever we go, displaying it to all and vocally denouncing oaths.
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Even if we act carelessly, the fearful gaze of this head admonishes us, compelling us to control our tongues and resist the temptation to swear.
The issue with vows lies not only in the fact that breaking them may lead to punishment—a consequence that does not apply to all sins—but also in another significant problem: those who make oaths often cannot help but violate them despite their best intentions. Firstly, people often swear carelessly and against their will, emotionally driven by anger or jest, inevitably leading to oaths being broken. It is evident that a person who swears is frequently bound to become an oath-breaker. Secondly, even if one’s swearing is not prompted by passion, the very nature of commitments may compel an individual to break their oath consciously and intentionally. This scenario can often occur at home: when a spouse vows to punish a servant, the other spouse might counter that vow, leading to a situation where, regardless of their intentions, one or both must eventually break their promise.
Whether in households or public squares, this behavior is widespread. Often in trades or schools, a master might swear that his apprentice will not eat until his work is complete; this can also happen in situations involving tutors and students, or ladies and their servants. As evening approaches and work remains unfinished, the result is inevitable: someone either suffers starvation or defaults on their vow. The wicked one, perpetually scheming against our well-being, is ever-present when we make vows, inducing carelessness and increasing challenges, leading to violence, insults, broken promises, and myriad other misfortunes.
Like children pulling on a frayed rope, only to fall when it snaps, so too do those who opposingly swear ultimately encounter an unavoidable breach of their promises. Both parties can find themselves caught in the web of oath-breaking: some due to their own failings, others for tempting others into breaking theirs. This observation is evident not only in daily life but is also illuminated in Scripture. An ancient tale reflects this point well. When the Jews faced an onslaught, Jonathan, son of Saul, triumphed in battle. However, Saul, wishing to embolden his troops against the enemy, foolishly swore that none should eat until their foes were vanquished. What could be more irrational? It would have served better to allow weary soldiers a reprieve and refreshment, then send them to confront the adversaries.
To force others to adhere to our oaths is perilous, particularly when one binds not just a few but an entire multitude to such a vow, as Saul did without foresight. He ignored that within a large assembly, breaking an oath would be easy, and that warriors often lack the wisdom to manage their hunger after arduous labor. By swearing for an entire army as one might for a single servant, he unwittingly opened a channel for demonic influence, which soon led to numerous additional oaths being formed. If we refrain from swearing altogether, we effectively shut that door, but making even a single vow grants the enemy the freedom to create countless others.
Just as rope makers succeed when they have a stable hold at one end, the adversary cannot ensnare us in sin unless we start with our tongues. Once we begin binding ourselves to these vows, the enemy can weave his entanglements with ease. One oath can quickly become a tangled net of many.