The École des Beaux-Arts (French for “School of Fine Arts”) is, as its name indicates, a school for training in the fine arts. It was founded in the 1600s and in the late 1800s was a vitally important institution on the European cultural scene. In order to have one’s work recognized as an artist, it was necessary to be recognized and approved of by the Ecole’s instructors. They and their pupils were the gatekeepers to recognition of an artist in French society.
However, by the late 1800s, it was a rigid institution. Many famous artists – Cezanne, Monet, Manet, Pissarro – in short, the artists who would come to be known as the great Impressionists, either struggled to stay in this prized institution or avoided it entirely; they felt that rather than train them and enhance their creative skills and powers, it weakened them.
The architect Viollet-le-Duc gave a typical critique at that time:
“The young artist enters the Ecole, he gets medals…but at what price? Upon condition of keeping precisely and without any deviation within the limits imposed by the corporation of professors, of following the beaten track submissively, of having only exactly the ideas permitted by the corporation and above all of not indicating the presumption of having any of his own… We observe that the…majority (of the student body) always aligns itself on the side of routine; there is no ridicule sufficient for the person who shows some inclination toward originality. How is it possible for a poor fellow, despised by his teachers, chafed by his companions, threatened by his parents, if he does not follow the middle of the markedout highway, to have enough strength, enough confidence in himself, enough courage to withstand this yoke- commonly adorned with the title ‘classical teaching’- and to walk freely?”
Indeed, we are sympathetic to the creative, original, strong, rebellious heroes who did not accept the status quo, who followed the rebellious artists Delacroix and Courbet, and forged their own path forward. We benefit from them to this day, as a visit to art museums in cities around the world will demonstrate.
Now let us be intellectually honest and brazenly ask: does Torah not do to us what the Ecole did to a generation of artists? Does halacha not control our every move, tell us how to wake up, when to pray, what to say, when we may or may not go to work, what foods and drinks must be had, which places we treat as holy and which as profane, what clothing is acceptable, what language may pass between our lips, what we must hold and shake, what can be planted and what is forbidden, and so on in so many other cases?
We read in our parsha of the tribe of Levi, given over to the Kohanim to follow their instructions:
And Hashem spoke to Moshe, saying: “Draw near the tribe of Levi and put them in the service of Aharon the Priest; they will serve Him. And they will perform his duties as well as those of the people in the tent of meeting; to serve through the service of the Mishkan. And they will guard the vessels of the Tent of Meeting – the duty of all of Israel – to serve in the Mishkan. And you will assign the Levites to Aharon and his sons, given as a help to him from amongst the Children of Israel.” (Bamidbar 3:5-9)
Is that not us? Do the Levi’im not form a fine example of our predicament? Are they not put into shackles, forced to be straightlaced, given no leeway?
We may recall a conversation that the author A.J. Jacobs had with an Orthodox Jew in his book The Year of Living Biblically. The Orthodox Jew praises halacha for taking the stress out of life. It instructs us what our morning routines must be, how to tie our shoelaces, and so on, so that we need not worry about what to do, what kinds of decisions must be made.
While there is some truth to this – the human mind and heart could not really withstand living without habits, having to decide each morning anew whether or not shirts and pants are the right kinds of clothes, whether to keep or start a new job, whether to keep or start new relationships – this depiction seems to me to portray a rather desiccated view of Jewish life. Is this the message of G-d? To turn us into robots? Is this what He wished to communicate to us when He called us tzelem Elokim, and made us in His own image? It does not seem possible. How could it be that the greatest wish of Torah would be to turn us into unthinking automatons?
Aside from the obvious moral challenge, we may prove from halacha itself that Jewish law does not exist to quiet the human mind, conscience, and soul. For instance, we may create obligations for ourselves, nedarim, vows to give charity, study, or visit the ill, where we did not have a strict obligation before. We choose what emphasis to put on Torah study, prayer, and acts of kindness, whom to marry, what kinds of parents we wish to be, what jobs we wish to perform and, frankly, what to think about and what kind of intention to have while we perform even seemingly rote mitzvoth, such as shaking a lulav, and less rote ones, like praying.
When you consider that what might be referred to as our existential decisions – the things that make us who we are and end up being discussed in eulogies, which are not mandated by halacha at all – it becomes apparent that halacha, remarkably, does not actually guide our every move. In fact, it would be more right to recognize that we are almost floating, untethered, even as we keep every jot and tittle. Who will tell you what time to get up in the morning? Which law dictates whether or not to work late? Which chooses your friends? What law makes children choose whether to play basketball, collect stamps, or play video games? Which law makes a marriage work or fail, a parent a harsh or soft disciplinarian? We can go on and on.
And now we have quite reached the other end of the spectrum. As it turns out, an analysis reveals that while halacha mandates prayer, it does not fill the inner experience, which is left purely to us. It may make us wash our hands but it will not plan a menu or impact how much we enjoy the food and the company. We are left alone. And so, what is the point? Is this whole thing nothing more than a diversion? Does halacha merely give us a false sense of security?
I do not think so. There is much too much to say on this point, so let us restrict ourselves to three points for the sake of brevity.
- As we have discussed in the past, the keeping of Torah and Jewish law comes for one of three purposes, as the Rambam has it. 1) To remove oppression from society; 2) to instill within us good character and virtues and; 3) to give us correct instruction regarding what is true and untrue.
Note, the Rambam does not tell us that Torah comes to control us. Nowhere does such an idea find expression within his writings. Torah improves us and gives us values, tools, discipline, and wisdom to help us thrive when we are knocked over by the vicissitudes of life; but it does not control us or what happens to us. It is a head start in life, in wisdom, in character, in community. But, ultimately, there are no shortcuts. Wisdom makes life meaningful but it does not make it easy, plain, or simple.
- As alluded to in the previous note, halacha gives us values. Prayer directs us toward the value of a relationship with G-d, tzedakah toward the value of helping others, the laws of marriage toward the existential needs and kindnesses we require. These laws are not empty; they speak to what we value and, very often, to what we do not value by their omission. Thus, there are laws about how to give away money but not on how to accrue it.
- Last, halacha can be a great source of joy. That joy can come from the knowledge that we are mastering something new, we are growing, or we are developing a relationship with G-d and others.
As it says in Tehillim 19:
The L-rd’s teaching is perfect, restoring to life. The L-rd’s pact is steadfast, it makes the fool wise. The laws of G-d are wholesome, gladdening the heart; The commandment of G-d shines, enlightening the eyes… More desired than gold, more than abundant fine gold, sweeter than honey, sweeter than honeycomb.
Torah gives us meaning and wisdom, character, values to hold on to, a sense of right and wrong to buoy us in the storm. A life of Torah is a life well lived, desirable and precious.
Let us consider Torah, both what it is and what it isn’t. Then let us cherish it for what it is.
