This issue of the JOFA Journal is devoted to an examination of Orthodox women and the arts. It is a fascinating compilation of articles by women pursuing careers in the visual and literary arts. Each voice is different and each exciting.
Why has it taken Jews so long to participate fully in the world of the arts? Were outlets of artistic expression denied us? From earliest times we were discouraged, as Orthodox Jews, from pursuing the visual arts by the Ten Commandments—“Thou shall not make unto thee a graven image, nor any manner of likeness of anything that is in the heaven above or that is in the water under the earth.”
Rabbi Hertz’s commentary on this commandment states: “This verse forbids the worship of the One God in the wrong way. Judaism alone, from the very beginning taught that God was a Spirit; and made it an unpardonable sin to worship God under any external form that human hands can fashion. No doubt this law hindered the free development of plastic arts…”
Reading this made me think of my maternal grandfather. I have one photograph of him, his passport photo. Except for that one time, he would not allow his picture to be taken—at least not knowingly. My Aunt Hilda told me that growing up in the Bronx, they lived in a building with two statues at the front. My grandfather, she said, scratched a mark in each of them. If he would see any kind of statue in his children’s homes, for example, a lamp base, he would break a piece off so that it would have a “moom”—an imperfection.
And yet, the Torah itself presents a contradiction. Just a few chapters after the second commandment is found in Exodus, we are introduced to Bezalel. “Bezalel” means “standing in the shadow of God.” According to Exodus 31:1-11, God gave Bezalel the intelligence, wisdom and skill “to create marvelous articles.”
He became the architect and sculptor of God’s holy dwelling, the mishkan, as well as the designer of the holy garments for the kohanim who served in the mishkan. For most of our history, this apparent contradiction was resolved by limiting Jewish artists to the creation of ritual objects, for the purpose of hiddur mitzvah—the beautification of the commandments. This was not art for art’s sake.
The foregoing, however, does not explain the absence of secular literature by Jewish authors until very recent times. This absence is probably due to the prevailing belief that our time should be spent exclusively on religious study and learning. Any writing should be limited to commentary on our holy books. The “people of the book” should not create secular books. That is a waste of valuable time.
Artists play an extraordinary role in our lives, which are enhanced by their creative output. I came upon this quote by Rabbi Hertz in his commentary on the Torah:
“In all true art, there is a vital underlying thought, and artists have accordingly been among the great thinkers of mankind. An eminent painter of the nineteenth century has well expressed it:
‘My intention has not been so much to paint pictures that will charm the eye as to suggest great thoughts that will appeal to the imagination and the heart, and kindle all that is best and noblest in humanity. I even think that, in the future, art may yet speak, as great poetry itself, with the solemn and majestic ring in which the Hebrew prophets spoke to the Jew of old, demanding noble aspirations, condemning in the most trenchant manner private vices, and warning us in deep tones against lapses from morals and duties’.”
Jews have come late to creating art. We have also been slow to appreciate the work that has been created. The women who wrote for this Journal are experimenting and innovating. I hope that you, the audience, will take the time to enjoy the fruits of their labor.