Part III Part IV
Part V Part VI
Part VII Part VIII
Part IX
If someone who breaks an oath commits perjury (which is what the Latin word implies, and the sense of the word which Lombard uses), does this mean that we should keep every oath we make, once we have made them? While one should keep one’s word, the Master of the Sentences also points out that there are oaths and promises whose ends are wrong, and therefore, it is better, maybe even a necessity, to break them than to keep them.[1] Using a text from Ambrose, Lombard presents where such an oath can be found in Scripture, that of Herod.[2] “It is also sometimes contrary to duty to fulfill a promise, or to keep an oath. As was the case with Herod, who swore that whatever was asked he would give to the daughter of Herodias, and so allowed the death of John, that he might not break his word.“[3]
Obviously, Herod should not have made that oath, but when he did, his wrongdoing would have been less if he had broken it than what he did by keeping it. We can see that Herod took the oath to get satisfaction for his lust; the oath was made in sin, and once that sin had been made, there was no way out other than committing one kind of wrong or another; either Herod had to break his word (which would have made him dishonest), or he would have had to do as he said and have John the Baptist killed (a far graver action). We can see from Herod’s case that sin begets sin, and that once we sin, we often create for ourselves a situation in which the only way out is to commit another offense, of one kind or another. Prudence would tell us that we must act according to the best option we have before is, in whatever situation we are in. If we are put into such a catch-22 situation, we must choose the best option, and not excuse ourselves once we have done it, but to do penance for it.
Despite the consequences it has on one’s reputation, if we swore to do something which we should not have sworn, Lombard reiterates, with a quote from St Isidore, that the best act is to break our oath. “For it is more tolerable not to fulfill an oath than to remain in defilement.“[4] Lombard shows this, from quotes of Bede and Augustine, the case of David. He swore an oath to kill Nabal, but rightfully broke that promise and stopped himself from committing a greater evil.[5]
While there is some fault involved with the breaking of an oath, we must ask, is it necessarily a sin? Lombard thinks that when we make a bad oath, the sin is only found at the time of its creation. An oath, created in sin, is not binding, and so it is not a sin to break it. For him, if one breaks such an oath, they have sinned only once; if they keep it, they have sinned twice, “because he does what he ought not to do.”[6] However, that seems to go against the notion that oath-breaking is somehow connected to the breaking of the fifth commandment. It is better to realize that the consequence of sin is often more sin, and prudence requires one to find out which way to go (if no action one could do is without sin) than it is to break the otherwise important connection between perjury and the Decalogue. This can be seen by a further examination of the situation. What are we to think when someone rightfully makes an oath out of necessity, such as in the case of a peace treaty, and they believe that the implications of the oath are just, but find out later, through further investigation, that they are not? Did they sin in taking the oath? Do they sin in breaking it? Obviously, when one’s oath would lead to grave injustice if it were kept, they cannot keep it. But because the oath was taken in good faith, and the consequences of it were not known until after taking it, it would appear they did not sin in making the oath. Therefore, one can be forced to break an oath in which no sin was initially involved in making. But by breaking the oath, they did become a perjurer.
Lombard agrees with the label of perjurer for one who breaks a bad oath, as can be seen from a quote he used from John of Jerusalem at II Nice. If someone at one time had sworn to destroy holy images, John replied, “The word of our father Sophronius means that it is better that the swearer should become a perjurer, than to keep the oath to break holy images.”[7] Lombard suggests that the reason why this is the case is not because they didn’t keep to the oath, but because they swore to something which was wrong, therefore, one who makes a bad oath is already a perjurer.[8] But that does not really make sense. Perjury can only happen when an oath has been broken, not before. If making a bad oath automatically makes one a perjurer, we could have the absurd situation where the one who keeps such an oath is also said to have broken it (because they would be deemed a perjurer at the oath-taking). Moreover, Lombard’s suggestion does not take in consideration the situation brought up above, in which it would appear that one could make a bad oath in good faith. Indeed, it is possible one could make a good oath in good faith, only to be led astray later. Such could happen if one swore fidelity to someone else, such as a king. What if a king were use such an oath to force one of his vassals to kill an innocent priest? The order would be wrong, and the vassal would be justified in breaking the oath. They would not have been wrong in making it, but they should have to break it, even though it makes them a perjurer. That sin, however, would be less than the sin of killing the priest, and so would be the act prudence suggests the vassal should take.[9] It should still be a sin, however, because the act of perjury breaks the fifth commandment; but the sin would be venial and minor, compared to the possibly mortal and grave sin the vassal would have to face for killing a priest.
Next, Lombard raises the question of one who swears an oath, knowing full well that the words used could have more than one meaning to them, and intends to deceive the one who hears the oath being taken by interpreting the words differently than their listener. That is, the oath-taker, in a sworn statement says one thing, intending their words one way, while expecting their audience to take it another way. Is such a ruse acceptable? No, not at all. Lombard quotes St Isidore, and says that there is a double-guilt involved here: the one who takes such an oath is either directly or indirectly taking God’s name in vain (indirectly if the oath is taken to something which is not God, it is still vouchsafed by God, as according to what Lombard said above), and they are also committing fraud.[10] But, Lombard also says, the way the oath-taker interpreted the oath is still important; God expects it to be followed according to the conscience of the one who takes the oath, and if they do not, there would be a third sin, that of breaking the oath itself.
It is interesting that Lombard brings up the deceptive use of words here, in the issue of oaths, and not in the issue of lies. It seems to indicate that because of the gravity of the situation involved with an oath, the expectation is different from ordinary speech. This is of course to be expected, otherwise any use of allegories or parables, such as those used by Christ, would have to be seen as double-speak and sinful. In ordinary conversation, one can legitimately employ words for such an artful purpose (and sometimes, it is desired of us, such as when people play riddle games, or in pedagogical situation, when we want our teachers to use words in such a way as to encourage their pupils to think, and using words beyond their ordinary meaning can help in that activity). In this way, one cannot be said to be lying each and every time they use words in such a fashion (although, to be sure, they can be used to help create lies). The context determines when it is appropriate, and when it is not.
Next, Lombard asks, what are we to make of someone who forces someone else to take a bad oath? Here, he says that they are to be held guilty of two sins, for they are guilty of the harm done to the soul of the one who perjures themselves under pressure, as well as for the pressure itself. “Whoever calls another to swear an oath and knows that he is swearing a falsehood, he is worse than a murderer; a murderer kills the body, but such a one the soul, indeed, two souls: that of the one whom he called to swear and his own.”[11]
Now, what are we to make of the one who was forced to swear in this manner? Lombard does not directly answer this question, but, from what is said above, it would appear that they would be guilty either of the sin if they keep the oath, or perjury, because they would have sworn under false pretenses. This is why the one who made them swear is said to be guilty of their spiritual murder, because they have forced someone else to sin. Now of course, the one who is under duress is less culpable than one who is free, and so it would appear that the sin involved in taking such an oath would be slight and easily forgiven. We must of course recognize the fact that the more freedom one has, the more culpability they would have for the oath itself, and the greater their penance should be. Sadly, many people assume that once they have made an oath, it is better to keep it, out of a sense of honor. This is why tyrants force such oaths out of others, expecting they would be kept once made. Thus, while falling under pressure might be bad, one does not have to keep to what they said, and indeed, if keeping it would lead to grave sins, one must immediately back out of one’s oath as soon as one can. If they do, then one can show them mercy, such as we find happened to Ossuis of Cordova by St. Athanasius. When Athanasius heard of what happened, he did not consider it as a thing to hold against Ossius. He understood that Ossius only cracked after prolonged torture, and that his signed statement in support of the Arians was made out of duress; Ossius did not agree to the statement, and, while there might be some slight blame to him for it, he handled it properly when he publicly repudiated as soon as he could.[12]
Finally, before moving on to the sixth commandment, Lombard points out that the Council of Orelans indicated that, unless it is a peace treaty being made, the faithful should fast before taking an oath. This, of course, is a recommendation, indicating the seriousness behind oath-taking, but is not a necessary requirement for them. It would help prevent carelessness, because it would remind the faster how serious an oath actually is (which, of course, explains why people consider medical exams which require fasting before being administered to be serious). Nonetheless, for peace treaties, one already knows the seriousness of the situation, and needs no further reminder.
Footnotes
[1] Peter Lombard, Sentences. Book III, dist XXXIX, c9.
[2] Matt. 14:6-11.
[3] St. Ambrose, Duties of the Clergy in NPNF2(10), bk1 c50 n264. Ambrose continues with another example not brought up in Lombard, “And what shall I say of Jephthah, who offered up his daughter in sacrifice, she having been the first to meet him as he returned home victorious; whereby he fulfilled the vow which he had made that he would offer to God whatever should meet him first. It would have been better to make no promise at all, than to fulfil it in the death of his daughter.”
[4] St Isidore, Sententiarum libri III, bk2 c31 n9 quoted in Peter Lombard, Sentences. Book III, dist XXXIX, c9.
[5] 1 Sam 25:22-26.
[6] Peter Lombard, Sentences. Book III, Dist XXXIX, c9.
[7] John of Jerusalem, Session 4 of the Council of Nicea, quoted in Peter Lombard, Sentences. Book III, dist XXXIX, c10. As one can tell, there is a long line of authority being employed in this one passage.
[8] Peter Lombard, Sentences. Book III, dist XXXIX, c10.
[9] Obviously, we do not have kings today, but that does not mean we do not have the equivalent problem, for example, we find it with the soldiering profession; what is a soldier to do when asked to engage in an unjust war? Should they “keep their word” and fight, or break it, accepting the consequences of their action, and do what they believe is right?
[10] Peter Lombard, Sentences. Book III, dist XXXIX, c11.
[11] St. Augustine, Sermo 308, c4 n4 quoted in Peter Lombard, Sentences. Book III, dist XXXIX, c12.
[12] Athanasius’ praise for Ossius, as we see in his “Defense of His Flight”, remained even after Ossius, under torture, lapsed, because Athanasius understood that in such circumstances, Ossius’ will was not free. “When this patron of impiety, and Emperor of heresy , Constantius, heard this, and especially that there were others also in the Spains of the same mind as Hosius, after he had tempted them also to subscribe, and was unable to compel them to do so, he sent for Hosius, and instead of banishing him, detained him a whole year in Sirmium. Godless, unholy, without natural affection, he feared not God, he regarded not his father’s affection for Hosius, he reverenced not his great age, for he was now a hundred years old ; but all these things this modern Ahab, this second Belshazzar of our times, disregarded for the sake of impiety. He used such violence towards the old man, and confined him so straitly, that at last, broken by suffering, he was brought, though hardly, to hold communion with Valens, Ursacius, and their fellows, though he would not subscribe against Athanasius. Yet even thus he forgot not his duty, for at the approach of death, as it were by his last testament, he bore witness to the force which had been used towards him, and anathematized the Arian heresy, and gave strict charge that no one should receive it,” St Athanasius, “History of the Arians,” in NPNF2(4), n45. This kind of attitude also helps us understand how we are to take other people who have fallen under pressure, such as the family of St Thomas More. We can show leniency (as the Church did to the lapsed from the time of persecutions), recognizing the fault for what it is, but without making more out of it than that (which was the error of Novatian). Interestingly enough, Ossius is recognized as a Saint in the East, but in the West, his lapse in old age was used by his Donatist opponents to smear his reputation, and caused the West to frown upon one of the most significant men in Church history (after all, he presided at Nicea, wrote the Nicene Creed, helped promote papal authority, and was, long before Nicea, a confessor).
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