The École des Beaux-Arts (French pronunciation: [ekɔl de boz‿aʁ]; 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 contemporary French society.
However, by the late 1800s, it was a rigid institution. Many famous artists- Cezanne, Monet, Manet, Pissaro- 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 because they felt that rather than train them and enhance their creative skills and powers, it weakened them[1].
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 is 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?”[2]
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 the HMFA and any major art museum in large cities will demonstrate.
And- let us be intellectually honest- does Torah not do to us what the Ecole did to a generation of artists? Does Halakha 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:
במדבר ג
(ה) וַיְדַבֵּ֥ר ה׳ אֶל־מֹשֶׁ֥ה לֵּאמֹֽר׃ (ו) הַקְרֵב֙ אֶת־מַטֵּ֣ה לֵוִ֔י וְהַֽעֲמַדְתָּ֣ אֹת֔וֹ לִפְנֵ֖י אַהֲרֹ֣ן הַכֹּהֵ֑ן וְשֵׁרְת֖וּ אֹתֽוֹ׃ (ז) וְשָׁמְר֣וּ אֶת־מִשְׁמַרְתּ֗וֹ וְאֶת־מִשְׁמֶ֙רֶת֙ כׇּל־הָ֣עֵדָ֔ה לִפְנֵ֖י אֹ֣הֶל מוֹעֵ֑ד לַעֲבֹ֖ד אֶת־עֲבֹדַ֥ת הַמִּשְׁכָּֽן׃ (ח) וְשָׁמְר֗וּ אֶֽת־כׇּל־כְּלֵי֙ אֹ֣הֶל מוֹעֵ֔ד וְאֶת־מִשְׁמֶ֖רֶת בְּנֵ֣י יִשְׂרָאֵ֑ל לַעֲבֹ֖ד אֶת־עֲבֹדַ֥ת הַמִּשְׁכָּֽן׃ (ט) וְנָתַתָּה֙ אֶת־הַלְוִיִּ֔ם לְאַהֲרֹ֖ן וּלְבָנָ֑יו נְתוּנִ֨ם נְתוּנִ֥ם הֵ֙מָּה֙ ל֔וֹ מֵאֵ֖ת בְּנֵ֥י יִשְׂרָאֵֽל׃
(5) And Hashem spoke to Moshe, saying: (6) “Draw near the tribe of Levi and put them in the service of Aharon the Priest; they will serve Him. (7) 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. (8) And they will guard the vessels of the Tent of Meeting- the duty of all of Israel- to serve in the Mishkan. (9) And you will assign the Levites to Aharon and his sons, given as a help to him from amongst the Children of Israel.”
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?
I 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 praised Halakha 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 God? 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 halakha 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, what spouse 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 mitzvot 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- are not mandated by halalakha at all, it becomes apparent that halakha- 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 halakha 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 halakha merely give us a false sense of security?
I do not think so. There is much too much to say on this point, so please let me restrict myself to three points for the sake of brevity.
1. 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.[3] 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 a heinous idea find expression within his writings. Torah improves us, it 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 headstart in life, in wisdom, in character. But, ultimately, there are no shortcuts. Wisdom makes life meaningful but it does not make it easy, plain, or simple.
2. As alluded to in the previous note, halakha gives us values. Prayer directs us towards the value of a relationship with God, tzedaka 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.
3. Last, halakha can be a great source of joy. That joy can come from the knowledge that we are mastering something new, growing, or developing a relationship with God or others.
As it says in Tehillim 19:
ח תּוֹרַת ה׳ תְּמִימָה, מְשִׁיבַת נָפֶשׁ; עֵדוּת ה׳ נֶאֱמָנָה, מַחְכִּימַת פֶּתִי.
8. The Lord’s teaching is perfect, restoring to life. The Lord’s pact is steadfast, it makes the fool wise. It gives us meaning and wisdom.
ט פִּקּוּדֵי ה׳ יְשָׁרִים, מְשַׂמְּחֵי-לֵב; מִצְוַת ה׳ בָּרָה, מְאִירַת עֵינָיִם.
It gives us character, values to hold on to, a sense of right and wrong to buoy us in the storm.
יא הַנֶּחֱמָדִים--מִזָּהָב, וּמִפַּז רָב; וּמְתוּקִים מִדְּבַשׁ, וְנֹפֶת צוּפִים.
11. More desired than gold, than abundant fine gold, and sweeter than honey, quintessence of bees. Nothing is more precious than a life well lived, nothing more desirable than the holy instruction that helps us along, making us wise and our days meaningful. Let us consider Torah, both what it is and what it isn’t. Then let us cherish it for what it is.
[1] John Rewald, The History of Impressionism, chapter 1.
[2] Ibid. pp. 22-23.
[3] Guide of the Perplexed 3:27, 31.