Vaeschanan: Ayn Rand, Art, and Avodah Zarah

Like her or hate her, Ayn Rand's definition of art sheds light on why the Torah prohibits the making of representative statues even for aesthetic purposes.

Aug 16, 2024

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Trigger Warning: I can’t think of a more ideologically polarizing 20th-century novelist than Ayn Rand. She was a formidable thinker and articulate writer, right about many things and wrong about others, and also a deeply flawed human being. While I understand why someone might disagree with her ideas, I’ve never understood why people react so aversely to the mere mention of her name. This reaction is so common and severe that when I quote her in a shiur or article, I often attribute the quotation to "the Jewish American philosopher Alisa Rosenbaum"—her birth name—to avoid an immediate dismissal of her ideas. However, I chose to use her name in this article, not only for the alliteration in the title but because I trust that the readers of this Substack are discerning enough to evaluate ideas on their own merit, regardless of their opinions about the author and her other views. As a famous thinker said, “Accept the truth from whoever says it.”

Vaeschanan: Ayn Rand, Art, and Avodah Zarah

In the concluding section of Moshe Rabbeinu’s first speech in Parashas Vaeschanan, he warns the Israelites not to forget the Revelation at Sinai. As you read this passage, try to discern the theme in the verses emphasized in bold:

Only beware for yourself and greatly beware for your soul, lest you forget the things that your eyes have beheld and lest you remove them from your heart all the days of your life, and make them known to your children and your children's children - the day that you stood before Hashem, your God, at Horeb, when Hashem said to me, “Gather the people to Me and I shall let them hear My words, so that they shall learn to fear Me all the days that they live on the earth, and they shall teach their children.” So you approached and stood at the foot of the mountain, and the mountain was burning with fire up to the heart of heaven, darkness, cloud, and thick cloud. Hashem spoke to you from the midst of the fire; you were hearing the sound of words, but you were not seeing a form, only a sound. He told you of His covenant that He commanded you to observe, the Ten Declarations, and He inscribed them on two stone Tablets. Hashem commanded me at that time to teach you decrees and ordinances, that you shall perform them in the Land to which you cross, to possess it. But you shall greatly beware for your souls, for you did not see any likeness on the day Hashem spoke to you at Horeb, from the midst of the fire, lest you act corruptly and make yourselves a carved image, a likeness of any shape; a form of a male or a female; a form of any animal on the earth; a form of any winged bird that flies in the heaven; a form of anything that creeps on the ground; a form of any fish that is in the water under the earth; and lest you raise your eyes to heaven and you see the sun, and the moon, and the stars - the entire legion of heaven - and you be drawn away and bow to them and worship them, which Hashem, your God, has apportioned to all the peoples under the entire heaven! (Devarim 4:9-19)

On the surface, Moshe’s warnings seem to be about avodah zarah (idolatry). However, upon closer examination, we see that his focus is a specific subset of avodah zarah prohibitions—namely, the making of physical representations. According to the Rambam (Hilchos Avodah Zarah v’Chukos ha’Goyim, Hakdamah, Mitzvos #6-8), there are three such Torah prohibitions:

Not to make a pesel (carved idol) or have one made for you, as it is stated: "Do not make for yourself a pesel, or any image" (Shemos 20:4; Devarim 5:7)
Not to make a pesel even for others, as it is stated: "do not make molten gods for yourselves" (Vayikra 19:4)
Not to make tzuros (statues) even for aesthetic purposes, even if they are not worshiped, as it is stated: "Do not make with Me gods of silver" (Shemos 20:19). [Note: According to the Rambam, this third Torah prohibition only forbids making statues of human beings, statues symbolizing celestial bodies, and statues representing angels. Statues of non-human animals, plants, or other earthly creatures are not prohibited by Torah law.]

The concept of avodah zarah is challenging enough for the modern mind to grasp, but the idea of manufacturing and worshiping idols feels especially strange. It's difficult to relate to someone having a burning desire to create an idol and bow down to it. While we can understand why such mitzvos were necessary in ancient times, we often feel they have little or no relevance to our present lives. This is particularly true for the prohibition against making statues for art, which might seem excessive to the Western mind.

The most illuminating explanation I’ve encountered for this phenomenon came from an unexpected source: Ayn Rand’s underappreciated non-fiction book, The Romantic Manifesto (1969). In this collection of essays on her philosophy of art and literature, Rand offers a philosophical definition of art, and it was this definition that helped me understand the Torah's prohibitions against idols. Here are her words, with her emphasis in bold:

Metaphysics – the science that deals with the fundamental nature of reality – involves man's widest abstractions. It includes every concrete he has ever perceived, it involves such a vast sum of knowledge and such a long chain of concepts that no man could hold it all in the focus of his immediate conscious awareness. Yet he needs that sum and that awareness to guide him – he needs the power to summon them into full, conscious force.
That power is given to him by art.
Art is a selective re-creation of reality according to an artist's metaphysical value-judgments.
By a selective re-creation, art isolates and integrates those aspects of reality which represent man’s fundamental view of himself and of existence. Out of the countless number of concretes – of single, disorganized and (seemingly) contradictory attributes, actions and entities – an artist isolates the things which he regards as metaphysically essential and integrates them into a single new concrete that represents an embodied abstraction.
For instance, consider two statues of man: one as a Greek god, the other as a deformed medieval monstrosity. Both are metaphysical estimates of man; both are projections of the artist’s view of man’s nature; both are concretized representations of the philosophy of their respective cultures.
Art is a concretization of metaphysics. Art brings man’s concepts to the perceptual level of his consciousness and allows him to grasp them directly, as if they were percepts (i.e. that which is perceived with the senses).

Although Ayn Rand was writing about all forms of art, her words are particularly true regarding the art of sculpture. Consider the most famous statues in the world. These statues are much more than material depictions of the human form; they are concretizations of philosophical abstractions and entire worldviews. For example:

The "Christ the Redeemer" statue looming over Rio de Janeiro embodies the transcendent love and redemptive grace central to Christianity, symbolizing a divine embrace promising salvation and forgiveness to all mankind.
The "Grand Buddha" at Ling Shan conveys the serene authority and profound wisdom of an enlightened teacher, representing the path to spiritual awakening.
The "Great Sphinx of Giza" exudes the timeless power and mystery of the Egyptian gods, symbolizing the eternal reign and impenetrable strength of the Egyptian Empire, where divine and royal authority were inseparable.
The towering statues of Kim Il Sung and Kim Jong Il reflect the ideological myth of the leaders as benevolent, omnipotent figures, helping sustain the illusion of prosperity and unity in North Korea.
The Statue of Liberty, standing over New York Harbor, epitomizes the ideals of freedom and opportunity—a noble mother figure whose torch lights the way for the oppressed and hopeful, symbolizing America as a beacon of refuge and a land of new beginnings.

While we no longer yearn to bow down to physical idols, we still possess the same psychological need for concrete expressions of our beliefs and value systems and the capacity to have a visceral experience when that need is gratified. If you've ever been moved to joy or tears by a piece of music that wordlessly conveys emotional content, a photograph charged with symbolic meaning, or a video that evokes awe and gratitude for something ordinarily mundane, you've tapped into the same part of the psyche from which primitive idolatry arose. This is the same psychological space where sublimated forms of avodah zarah continue to survive and thrive today.

Ayn Rand's explanation helps us appreciate why physical representations hold such power. Her concluding insight captures this succinctly: “Art brings man’s concepts to the perceptual level of his consciousness and allows him to grasp them directly, as if they were percepts.” What makes these statues so powerful is their ability to convey underlying philosophies and value systems immediately and directly to the psyche, bypassing language and the analytic mind—as if these philosophies and values can be perceived by the five senses. Since we are inclined to accept as real whatever we perceive with our senses, any physical representation of avodah zarah functions to reinforce the beliefs and values of its worshipers. Moreover, it allows worshipers to feel as though they are interacting with a metaphysical reality through a tangible, perceivable entity.

This understanding sheds light on why the Torah regards the art of sculpture as the primary medium of avodah zarah. The powerful aesthetic experiences that art can evoke are akin to (though certainly not identical with) what ancient idolaters felt in their worship of graven images. This also helps explain the urgency of Moshe’s reminder that the Israelites didn’t see any form at Sinai and that they should not attempt to make any representation of Hashem in any form whatsoever. On the most basic level, Hashem’s incorporeality means that any physical representation would be inherently inaccurate. On a deeper level, the very attempt to translate our awareness of an incomprehensible God into a concrete physical form would inevitably result in a distorted view, anchoring our understanding in a perceptible and limited entity.

To be clear, I am not saying that art is avodah zarah, nor am I equating the emotions evoked by art with those involved in idolatry. Rather, I am suggesting that the Torah’s prohibitions reflect a deep understanding of the human psyche, recognizing that the psychodynamics associated with art are so powerful that they can easily be hijacked by religiosity. The Torah’s harchakah (precautionary safeguard) was designed to prevent people from indulging, through art, the same psychological urges that give rise to full-blown idolatry. After all, the psyche is a volatile thing.

What do you think of Ayn Rand’s philosophy of art and its application to the Torah’s prohibitions against avodah zarah?

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