Episode 32: When Words Aren’t Enough: Promises, Actions, and Trust

When I was a kid, there was a way to make a promise without really making a promise.

You crossed your fingers.

You could tell someone you would do something, or insist that you were telling the truth, but if you had your fingers crossed behind your back, somehow that meant it didn’t count.

At least, that was the theory.

Of course, a kid only had to get caught doing that once or twice before the others figured something out: You couldn’t trust that kid.

The crossed fingers weren’t really the issue. The issue was that the person making the promise had already decided that there were circumstances in which their word didn’t have to mean what it sounded like it meant.

And unfortunately, we don’t always outgrow that.

We just come up with more sophisticated ways to justify it.

I’ve been thinking about that in connection with oaths.

An oath is a solemn promise, often invoking God or something considered sacred or deeply important, about what a person promises to do or not do.

It’s an outward expression of an internal commitment. You are publicly saying: This is what I promise to do. You may hold me to it.

We see oaths in government, in the military, in courtrooms and in other situations where the commitment being made is considered serious enough that a casual promise doesn’t seem adequate.

And there’s often some ceremony surrounding it.

Someone raises a right hand. Someone else administers the oath. Sometimes the person taking it places a hand on a Bible or another book or document that has special meaning.

It’s interesting that swearing an oath on a Bible has been part of American culture since the country’s beginning, but the Constitution doesn’t require a Bible for an oath of office. In fact, the Constitution specifically recognizes both an oath and an affirmation. That means someone who objects to swearing an oath can affirm the same commitment instead. Either way, the commitment is just as binding. The Constitution requires the promise; it doesn’t require a particular religious ceremony or something to swear on.

The object used as part of the ceremony isn’t what makes the oath binding.

And I think that’s worth remembering, because we sometimes focus more attention on what someone is putting a hand on rather than on the words coming out of that person’s mouth.

Think about what we mean when we say we swear on something.

Someone might say, “I swear on my mother’s grave.”

Or, “I swear on my children.”

Or, “I swear on the Bible.”

Why do we say things like that?

We’re trying to add weight to our words. We’re invoking something we consider precious or sacred as evidence that we really mean what we’re saying.

But putting your hand on something sacred can’t make you honest.

A Bible can’t make you keep an oath.

The Constitution can’t make you keep an oath.

No ceremony can make you keep an oath.

Ultimately, the meaning of the oath depends on the character and integrity of the person making it.

And we see what happens when that integrity fails.

We’ve seen politicians violate the oaths they took when they entered office. We’ve seen government employees violate their oaths. We’ve seen people in all kinds of positions of public trust fail to honor solemn commitments they made.

When that happens, it can—and often should—damage their reputations. It can tarnish accomplishments that might otherwise have been respected.

Because an oath tells other people something about you.

It says, You can rely on my word.

And breaking that oath tells them something, too.

The real test often comes when keeping that oath becomes difficult. And that’s where situational ethics can get in the way of integrity.

We start finding reasons why the promise we made shouldn’t apply in this particular situation.

I meant it when I said it, but things have changed.

I made that commitment, but I didn’t know this was going to happen.

I promised to uphold this principle, but now following it is going to cost me something.

We begin looking for exceptions.

And sometimes circumstances really do change. Sometimes we learn things we didn’t know before. Sometimes commitments create genuine moral or legal conflicts that need to be addressed carefully.

But a promise becoming harder, more costly, or less convenient to keep doesn’t mean the promise no longer applies. We don’t get to decide that our word no longer counts simply because keeping it has become uncomfortable or costly.

That’s one reason we shouldn’t make oaths casually.

Ecclesiastes 5:5 puts it very plainly: “It is better that you should not vow than that you should vow and not fulfill it.” (NRSVUE)

If you’re going to solemnly promise that you will do something, you need to understand the significance of what you’re saying before you say it.

And once you make that oath, you don’t get to quietly rewrite it when keeping it becomes difficult.

Jesus addressed the whole issue of oath-taking in the Sermon on the Mount.

Jesus said:

“Again, you have heard that it was said to those of ancient times, ‘You shall not swear falsely, but carry out the vows you have made to the Lord.’ But I say to you: Do not swear at all, either by heaven, for it is the throne of God, or by the earth, for it is his footstool, or by Jerusalem, for it is the city of the great King. And do not swear by your head, for you cannot make one hair white or black. Let your word be ‘Yes, Yes’ or ‘No, No’; anything more than this comes from the evil one.” (Matthew 5:33-37, NRSVUE)

There are different Christian traditions regarding whether that passage prohibits formal oath-taking altogether. But the principle Jesus gives us about personal integrity is unmistakable.

We should be so truthful that our word is sufficient.

If we say yes, people should be able to trust that we mean yes. If we say no, they should know that we mean no. And if we say we’re going to do something, we should do it.

We shouldn’t need to swear on a Bible, or on someone’s grave, or on the heads of people we love to convince somebody that we’re telling the truth.

And we certainly shouldn’t have the adult equivalent of crossing our fingers behind our backs.

The ceremonial part of an oath can be meaningful. There’s nothing wrong with that. Public ceremonies remind us that serious responsibilities are being accepted. A Bible, a different holy book, or another meaningful object can represent the values a person believes should guide that commitment.

But the object is a symbol.

The oath is the promise.

And the real evidence that the oath meant something comes later.

It comes in the decisions you make when keeping your word is inconvenient.

It comes when circumstances change.

It comes when honoring your commitment costs you something.

It comes when you could probably get away with doing something else.

That’s when we find out what the oath—and the person who made it—are really worth.

So when you hear someone take an oath, listen to the words. Then watch what that person does.

And when you make a promise yourself—whether anyone calls it an oath or not—remember what your word tells people about you.

Don’t cross your fingers.

Don’t look for the loophole.

Don’t let changing circumstances turn your principles into situational ethics.

Know what you’re promising before you promise it.

And once you give your word, make sure the way you live proves that your word means something.

When we come back, we’ll look at the other side of trust—what to do when someone’s words say one thing, but their actions are telling you something else.