Some Thoughts on Kol Nidrei

Kol nidrei is perplexing. Many explanations for the recital of kol nidrei claim that the prayer emphasizes the supreme importance of keeping one’s word. According to such explanations, we recite kol nidrei on the eve of Yom Kippur to absolve ourselves of liability for those occasions during the past year when we have broken our word (or, for followers of Rabbeinu Tam, those occasions in the coming year when we fear we will not live up to our word). Certainly, there is truth to these explanations, and yet they fail to resonate with me. To the contrary, rather than impress upon me the supreme importance of my words, kol nidrei leaves me with the feeling that I am not forever bound by my words. My oaths are not immutable. Kol nidrei provides an out. It renders my words “abandoned, cancelled, null and void, without power and without standing.”

I’m also not certain whether to refer to kol nidrei as a prayer. Experientially, it feels prayerful, and is often filled with a palpable sense of awe and communal yearning. And yet, in the kol nidrei paragraph itself, we do not seem to ask anything of God. Rather, the words of the kol nidrei suggest a legalistic formula through which the community accomplishes something for itself – the remission of vows – without any apparent need for Divine aid or intervention.

For those who may be similarly puzzled by kol nidrei, I’d like to offer a different perspective on its recital. As I suggest below, kol nidrei may be viewed – like so much else in the yom kippur liturgy – as an expiation ritual that enacts on a human scale the Divine forgiveness we strive to secure.

Among other places, the Torah addresses oaths, pledges and vows in Parashat Matot:

Moses spoke to the heads of the Israelite tribes, saying: This is what the Lord has commanded: If a man makes a vow (neder) to the Lord or takes an oath (shvu’ah) imposing a prohibition (i’sar) on himself, he shall not break his pledge; he must carry out all that has crossed his lips. (Numbers 30:2-3.)

In a stunning, but not atypical, instance of rabbinic deconstructive reading, from the phrase “he shall not break his pledge” (lo yahel d’varo), the rabbis learn how one may in fact be extricated from a pledge. “He cannot break [his pledge] (lo yahel d’varo), but others may break it for him,” teaches the Talmud in Brachot 32a. This teaching serves as the origin for the laws concerning the remission of vows and the power of a court to relieve a person of his vows. While we may be powerless to undo our vows, there is a legal mechanism through which others may release us from those vows.

This is a daring, playful and powerful rabbinic teaching. According to the rabbis, the very verse that contains a categorical prohibition on breaking a pledge also contains the seeds of its own undoing. In the face of a verse seemingly meant to stress the supreme importance of keeping our word, the rabbis find an opening to derive a mechanism for releasing us from those bounds. (It certainly was not always this way: think of poor Yiftach’s daughter – victim of a pledge that could not be undone) (Judges 11). The text of kol nidrei clearly draws on the above passage from Parashat Matot; the words “vow,” “prohibition” and “oath” comprising the second, third and fourth words of the kol nidrei.

Above I’ve translated “lo yahel d’varo,” as “he shall not break his pledge.” But, the precise meaning of “yahel” is not at all clear. The same y-h-l root is used when Moshe petitions God to forgive the Children of Israel for the sin of the golden calf: “But Moses implored the Lord his God (va’yehal moshe) saying, “Let not Your anger, O Lord blaze forth against Your people.” (Exodus 32:11.) Va-yehal is difficult to translate; the JPS translation goes with “implores,” but that’s contextual. Look at this fascinating riff on the word from Brachot 32a:

And Moses implored [va-yehal] the Lord his God. R. Eleazar said: This teaches that Moses stood in prayer before the Holy One Blessed Be He, Until he wearied Him [hehelahu]. Raba said: Until he remitted His vow for Him. It is written here va-yehal, and it is written there [in Parashat Matot as discussed above], he shall not break [yahel] his word; and a Master has said: He [himself] cannot break, but others may break for him…The Rabbis say: It teaches that Moses said before the Holy One Blessed Be He: Sovereign of the Universe, it is a profanation [hullin] for Thee to do this thing.

In Raba’s reading, Moshe released God from God’s vow. What vow? God’s vow appears in the verse immediately preceding va-yehal moshe: “Now, let Me be, that My anger may blaze forth against them and that I may destroy them, and make of you a great nation.” Having made this vow, God is bound [as it were]. Perhaps, like Yiftach, God will lose God’s beloved people as a consequence of an immutable vow. Moshe finds an out for God, relieving God from having to fulfill the consequences of the Divine vow to destroy the Children of Israel and start over from Moshe. Moshe teaches God the power of kol nidrei.

We begin kol nidrei by requesting permission to pray with sinners. This is the essence of Moshe’s petition to God after the golden calf. The nation should not be wiped out because of the sinners among them. The community makes a show of acknowledging and admitting sinners into its midst, hoping God will do the same.

In large part, the Yom Kippur liturgy involves recalling the elaborate ritual that in Temple times enacted our atonement – the scapegoat sent off into the wilderness, the High Priest entering (and hopefully exiting) the Holy of Holies. Similarly, the custom of kaparot on erev Yom Kippur is a substitution ritual with echoes of the scapegoat. On Yom Kippur we do things and say things that have some mysterious parallel in the Divine sphere where guilt and forgiveness, justice and mercy are being worked out.

Kol nidrei can also be seen in this light. We begin the holiday by releasing our own vows, finding an out for ourselves, and telling ourselves that we don’t have to be held to all the oaths we swore during the preceding year. In its own right, this can offer a powerful release and sense of expiation that allows us to start over. But, our human drama of release also aspires to Divine significance. We yearn for God to be released from God’s harsh vows about us, just as we release ourselves. This is the prayerful aspect of kol nidrei. We release our own vows and through that act also implicitly pray for God to be released from God’s own severe decrees. Lo yahel d’varo -- He cannot break, but others may break for Him.

Noach and Moshe

Genesis 6:6 reports of God's inner state: "vayinahem" on account of God having created humanity upon the earth. Commentators suggest this word to mean that God "regretted" creating humanity or alternatively (and strangely) that God was "comforted" by the fact that God had created humanity upon the earth (as opposed to in the heavens). See, e.g., Sanhedrin 108a. In either case, this "vayinahem" is quite a turnabout from the use of the same root a few verses earlier in Genesis 5:29, in which Lemech declares that his son Noach would offer comfort ("yinahamenu"). The n-h-m of 6:6 presages utter destruction -- not comfort or consolation.

Reference to Exodus 32:14 -- another instance of "vayinahem hashem" -- yields interesting insights about human agency in the world. God resolves to utterly destroy the Israelite people and to create a great nation, starting from scratch with Moshe alone. Sounds familiar so far, no? This time, however, Moshe petitions God for mercy. The result is: "And God regretted (vayinahem) the evil that He had resolved to visit upon His people."

This is an exquisite parallel opposition. In the case of Noach, God's inner regret augurs utter destruction of humanity. In the case of Moshe, God's inner regret augurs the merciful sparing of the people. The latter case is brought about as a consequence of Moshe's heroic intervention on behalf of the people.

If you spend time comparing these two episodes, you'll find many other linguistic parallels and wordplays. One of my favorites is when God tells Moshe (before Moshe even opens his mouth in protest), "Leave Me alone" (haniha lee). Note the recurrence of the root letters in Noach's name (n-h). God wants Moshe to leave Him alone, just as Noach left him alone to carry out his destructive plans. But this time, it is different.

In prevailing upon God to change the annihilative plan, Moshe has exceeded even Avraham's greatness when he pled with God to spare Sodom. Unlike Avraham, Moshe's plea prevails. I'd suggest that this is what is meant by those commentators who opine that Noach was righteous only "in his own generation," but that had he been in Avraham's (or Moshe's) generation he would not have been considered righteous. See, e.g., Rashi on Genesis 6:9. God is in search of humanity's genuine partnership -- a partnership that is fully realized in the person of Moshe, who challenges God's designs. Noach offered the righteousness of obedience only.

I'd further suggest that's the significance of the statement in Avot d'Rabbi Natan that Noach was born circumcised. Circumcision can be understood to represent the need for human agency in creation. (Apologies for the exclusively male paradigm; and I think the idea can easily be reworked in a feminist light.) Avraham earned the quality of wholeness ("tamim") when he underwent circumcision; Noach, having been born "tamim," lacked the insight that was borne of Avraham's experience in the world.

Back to Genesis 6:6 - "vayinahem": Rashi suggests in a "davar acher" that the word means that God's thoughts were transformed from the quality of mercy through which God created the world to the quality of judgment through which God destroyed the world. Avraham petitioned God's quality of judgment on behalf of Sodom: "Shall the judge of the whole world not do justice?" Avraham's appeal did not prevail. Moshe's petition, on the other hand, succeeded in moving God from the place of judgment back to the place of mercy necessary to sustain the world. Vayinahem hashem.