In the vibrant and transformative era of the 1950s and 60s, the world beheld the rise of a truly remarkable artist, Jacques Lipchitz. This eminent sculptor, widely regarded as the most celebrated Jewish sculptor of his time, breathed life into stone and metal, crafting masterpieces that transcended the boundaries of artistic expression.
Mr. Lipchitz was born as Chaim Yaakov Lipchitz in Poland in 1891 to Orthodox Jewish parents. Even as a little boy, Jacques was drawn to sculpting. His father was a contractor for hire, and the boy learned from his father’s craftsmen how to sculpt various objects. With unwavering determination, he began to mold clay and carve stone, meticulously honing his craft. However, his father viewed his artistic pursuits as frivolous and impractical, dismissing them as a waste of time. But Jacques' mother, recognizing his exceptional talent, became his steadfast champion. She encouraged him to pursue his passion and fervently supported his creative endeavors.
In 1909, at the tender age of 18, Jacques embarked on a transformative journey that would shape the course of his artistic destiny. He set foot in the bohemian capital of the art world, Paris. The city's vibrant atmosphere and thriving artistic scene provided the fertile ground for Jacques to blossom. There, amid the enchanting streets and captivating galleries, he swiftly gained recognition for his extraordinary talent and visionary approach to sculpture. Jacques Lipchitz soon etched his name among the esteemed ranks of the art world, forging lifelong friendships with luminaries such as Pablo Picasso and Marc Chagall.
Paris, however, became a double-edged sword for Jacques in terms of his Jewish identity. While he reveled in his artistic pursuits and reveled in the company of esteemed artists, he found himself gradually distancing from the observance of Torah and mitzvot. Despite this divergence, Jacques never abandoned his Jewish roots. He remained fiercely proud of his heritage, steadfastly declaring his Jewish identity at every turn.
It was in Paris that Jacques Lipchitz met a Jewish woman who would become his wife. They embarked on a union that lasted over two decades, their lives intertwined amidst the rich cultural tapestry of France.
However, the outbreak of World War II cast a dark shadow over their lives, forcing them to flee their cherished home, their beloved studio, and their cherished artistic projects that lay incomplete.
The Lipchitzes sought refuge in the United States, hoping to find solace and safety amidst the tumult of war. They arrived on American shores, dispossessed and bereft, having left behind the remnants of their life in Europe. The ravages of war had severed the threads connecting Jacques to his artistic endeavors, leaving him with a profound sense of loss.
After the war subsided, Jacques received an invitation to return to Paris for an exhibition of his renowned sculptures. Brimming with hope and longing for a return to familiarity, he embarked on the journey with his wife by his side. However, fate had a different plan in store. While in Paris, his wife expressed her discontent with life in America and resolved to stay in France. In a heart-wrenching decision, Jacques chose to return to the United States alone, leaving behind the life he had built, and in due course, his marriage dissolved. Yet, amidst the upheaval and personal turmoil, a newfound chapter awaited him.
Back in New York, Jacques Lipchitz crossed paths with another Jewish woman, hailing from a Chasidic Jewish background and deeply rooted in tradition. Their shared heritage and mutual understanding forged a deep connection, leading them to marriage. Together, they embarked on a new journey, finding solace and companionship in each other's embrace.
The year 1958 dawned like any other, but for Jacques Lipchitz, it quickly descended into a nightmare. A foreboding unease settled within him as he awoke one fateful morning, feeling unwell. As he attempted to take a few steps, his strength betrayed him, and he collapsed onto the ground. Panic set in, and he was rushed to the hospital, where a harrowing truth awaited him. The doctors informed his wife that Jacques had been diagnosed with intestinal cancer, and they had performed emergency surgery. A long and arduous road to recovery lay before him.
Mr. Lipchitz trembled with trepidation upon receiving this devastating news, while his wife, plagued by worry, sought solace in the counsel of her brother. He advised her to visit the Lubavitcher Rebbe, a revered spiritual leader, and seek his blessing for her husband's recovery. Embracing this glimmer of hope, Mrs. Lipchitz made her way to see the Rebbe, carrying with her the weight of her husband's fragile existence.
As she stood before the Rebbe, pouring out her fears, he greeted her with a serene knowingness. The Rebbe reassured her, uttering words of profound comfort, "I know about you, and I know your husband. Go home! You have nothing to worry about. He will live!" In addition to this resolute assurance, the Rebbe issued a request. He beseeched Mrs. Lipchitz to convey to her husband that once he recovered, he should come and visit the Rebbe personally.
Overwhelmed by this extraordinary encounter, Mrs. Lipchitz returned to her husband, clutching the Rebbe's words like a lifeline. She relayed the Rebbe's message of hope and shared his invitation. Jacques Lipchitz, stirred by the Rebbe's conviction and touched by his unwavering faith, immediately vowed that if his life was spared, he would wholeheartedly accept the Rebbe's invitation. And so, with time, Jacques' health improved, and he was discharged from the hospital, stepping into a world renewed.
In the summer that followed, Jacques Lipchitz embarked on a sacred pilgrimage to meet the Rebbe, seeking solace, guidance, and spiritual awakening. During their private audience, Jacques poured out his life's narrative, recounting the myriad of triumphs, trials, and artistic creations that had shaped his journey. He spoke of his sculptures, which graced churches worldwide, and even shared that he had been working on a statue of the "virgin" for a Catholic church. The Rebbe, a patient and attentive listener, offered no commentary on Jacques' artistic career. Instead, he posed two requests, imbued with profound significance. Firstly, he implored Jacques to resume the daily practice of putting on tefillin, a tangible connection to his Jewish roots. Secondly, the Rebbe urged Jacques to rectify his previous marriages according to Jewish law, ensuring the sanctity and validity of his unions, to give his ex-wife a proper halachic get and to marry his current wife with a proper chupah.
Jacques Lipchitz embraced the Rebbe's guidance wholeheartedly, responding to both requests with utmost dedication. Despite not having put on tefillin since the age of 18, Lipchitz resumed this practice at the age of 67, complying with the Rebbe's suggestion. Their bond grew over the years, and Lipchitz actively engaged in farbrengens (Chassidic gatherings) and maintained frequent correspondence with the Rebbe.
During one of their exchanges, Lipchitz expressed his willingness to assist the Rebbe in any way possible. In response, the Rebbe advised him to support Chabad shluchim (emissaries) whenever he traveled to a location where they were present. The Rebbe explained that Lipchitz's status as a renowned artist might be unknown to the the Chabad rabbis, and suggested that Lipchitz inform them to inquire about his identity with one of their supporters, thus providing an opportunity for them to become familiar with his prominence.
When Lipchitz arrived in California, he contacted Rabbi Cunin, the local Chabad shliach, as instructed. Their conversation ensued in a playful manner, with Lipchitz introducing himself “Hello, this is Jacques Lipchitz. Do you know who I am?” “This is Shloimeh Cunin. Do you know who I am?” Lipchitz chuckled, explaining the Rebbe's directive and clarifying his significance. Rabbi Cunin promptly organized an event centered around Lipchitz, recognizing the importance of hosting such a distinguished guest.
Wherever Lipchitz went, he made it known that he regularly put on tefillin. He believed this practice connected him to his heritage and to a spiritual realm, providing him with the inspiration necessary for his sculpting work.
During that time the Rebbe sent him a letter addressing the issue of sculpting in Judaism. The Rebbe wrote as follows: “The subject at hand was a craft associated with the fundamental prohibition of idol worship.” On the other hand, the Rebbe continued, if it is performed in a way that is compatible with the Torah, it can strongly influence the world of emotions within the viewer. There is a known concept in the Torah that the end does not justify the means. And since the purpose of the art of sculpting is to inspire the viewer to the loftiest feelings, this can be only be achieved when one’s philosophy is compatible with the Torah.
In fact, Jewish law (Yoreh Deah 141:7) states that “Some say that a human form is only prohibited… specifically with a full form with all its limbs; but the form of a head, or the form of a body without a head, involves no prohibition whatsoever”—to which the famous Halachic authority Rabbi Moshe Isserlis adds, “And thus is the custom.” In fact, the Halacha is that as long as the sculpture is missing one limb, it’s permitted.
In 1973, Jacques Lipchitz passed away unexpectedly. Following his demise, his wife approached the Rebbe and shared that her late husband had been commissioned by the women of the Hadassah organization to complete her late husband's sculpture of the phoenix bird. The statue was intended for donation to the Hadassah Hospital in Jerusalem, but concerns were raised about the phoenix not being a Jewish symbol. Seeking the Rebbe's guidance, Lipchitz's wife inquired how such a sculpture could be presented in Jerusalem.
In response, the Rebbe summoned Rabbi Krinsky and requested the Book of Job. Quoting from Chapter 29, Verse 18, the Rebbe highlighted Rashi's commentary on the phoenix as a bird named "chol" that was not subject to death due to not tasting the Tree of Knowledge. The Midrash further explained the phoenix's unique cycle of death and rebirth after 1,000 years. The Rebbe concluded that the phoenix symbol had clear Jewish connotations. Mrs. Lipchitz was delighted to hear this and successfully completed the project.
In one of the Rebbe’s letters to Jacques Lipchitz, the Rebbe drew parallels between the work of a sculptor and the spiritual journey of every human, emphasizing that the sculptor, even more so than a painter, transforms raw material into a spiritual concept. Similarly, humans possess the ability to infuse spirituality into the physical world through the performance of mitzvot. By engaging in physical mitzvot, such as writing the Shema on a piece of leather to create a mezuzah, individuals imbue these objects with holiness.
The Rebbe conveyed the idea that every individual is essentially an artisan, tasked with sculpting their portion of the physical world into something spiritual and holy. By performing mitzvot, individuals bring forth the inherent spirituality within the material realm, elevating it closer to holiness.
May the memory of Jacques Lipchitz be for a blessing.
Rabbi Yisroel Bernath
