What's been on my mind lately is the 1971 film adaptation of Fiddler on the Roof (Free on Amazon Video if you have a Prime membership, by the way). I watched the film several times as a kid, so like many, was already familiar with the songs and plot. We even sung the songs in a music concert at my elementary school one year (I was one of the "daughters" in the song "Tradition.") A few weeks ago, I watched it again, the first time as an adult. I was really struck by how profound and beautiful this film and its message is, something I wasn't yet mature enough to pick up on as a child. Of course the film centers on the rich Jewish religion, culture, and tradition of a small Russian community. As a modern Christian, I'm relating to the film and its messages in a different way. Despite our religious differences with Jewish people, I think there is a lot Christians can learn and appreciate here too.
First off, can we just all just fall in love with Tevye's relationship with God? He is not a perfect man-- he can be stubborn and lose his temper. But he talks to God, every day, like He is a dear close friend. It's so easy, in our every day lives, to feel like God is really far away. And for those of us who struggle to have a consistent prayer life, it can seem like we have to muster up the most perfect, eloquent words when we do pray-- He is the God of the universe, after all. Tevye reminds us that God doesn't expect us to be Shakespeare every time we want to talk to Him. It's a beautiful thing to pray traditional prayers in reverent ways-- we do this in Mass, of course (and we also see Tevye's family pray traditional, formal Jewish Sabbath prayers in one scene). However, God wants for us to give Him our authentic selves in every moment of every day, even during the most mundane activities. While Tevye goes about his work and interactions with others, he frequently pauses to talk to God. He does this in high moments, when he thinks he found a groom for his eldest daughter, to the lowest moments, when he learns of a violent" demonstration" his own city is planning to force upon its Jewish residents. Whatever is going on in Tevye's life and his surroundings, he engages in a nonstop conversation with God. It's wonderfully authentic and simple. Both the fiddler's melodies and Tevye's almost stream-of-consciousness style prayers work well in tandem as the most prominent intertwined motifs, demonstrating how the Jewish culture, religion, and tradition are the tunes that keep these people going.
Despite the cheerful fiddling, upbeat songs, and occasional joke, the story rests upon a haunting backdrop of increasing anti-semitism of his village. We're reminded of the fraught relationship among Jews and Russian authorities several times throughout the film. The local constable first tries to warn Tevye of potential violence to come, but ultimately betrays the Jewish people at the end of the film, when he follows through with orders to kick the Jewish residents out of Anatevka.
It was interesting to watch this film unfold in the midst of the modern crisis of Covid-19. I'm not going to try to argue this pandemic is the same as the persecution of the Jews (because of course it's not.) However what they do have in common is that they are both extremely difficult things that deal with factors far beyond one person's control and that they both cause grave suffering. In Fiddler on the Roof, we have the main story of Tevye's personal life, his struggle to support his family on a meager milkman's wages, and his daughters growing up and getting married. In the background unfolds this much bigger and darker plot that eventually dominates Tevye's personal life at the end when he and his family (and the other Jewish people) are forced to leave their home at practically a moment's notice. Similarly, we all have our personal stories that are still developing, in some way shape or form, in front of this big, dark backdrop of Coronavirus. I suppose we, too, are afraid that the pandemic is going to completely take over our personal lives too. This already seems to be happening to many of us, from those who have been laid off, gotten sick (or are taking care of a sick family member), have actually lost loved ones (due to the disease or other reasons), or are developing serious depression and anxiety. Personally, I've tried hard to make my personal life and Coronavirus two distinct things, but of course that was an unrealistic goal. I'm not going to get too side-tracked by explaining the specific ways the virus has affected me, but like many other, this dark backdrop has overstepped its bounds, maliciously seeping into seemingly every aspect of my life and my world. In both Fiddler on the Roof and our modern lives, it can seem like all of our personal plans, hopes, goals, and desires are being absolutely decimated by this big, ugly thing no one can stop.
This is where the film really started to teach me a few things. Tevye knew things were getting bad as anti-semitism was on the rise. Just like COVID-19, this was a big, ugly thing he could not stop. However, he still went about his work. He still kept his ongoing communication with God. He still drank and celebrated when things were good. He still cared for and showed love for his wife and daughters. And he did his best to adjust when things got bad. He was nervous, but he didn't let his life be any smaller due to that fear. He and his neighbors could still find joy and contentment in everyday moments, even though they knew things might get severely hard for them in the future. And how they were still able to do so is fully realized in the final scene.
It's hard to see how things could've been worse for Tevye and the other Jewish People than in the final scene. He treks alone the bitter, cold wilderness, pushing along his meager belongings, forced out of the only home he knew and completely uncertain of what's to come. How could things feel any more miserable for Tevye and the others? What kind of depressing ending is this?
And of course-- then we see the fiddler and hear him playing, "Tradition." Tevye pauses, looks at him, thinks a moment...and then gestures the fiddler to "come on" and accompany him. In this instant, we understand how the Jewish people (both as a whole and the fictional ones in this film) fought through such hardships-- through their rich culture, tradition, and mostly importantly: deep devotion to God. These are things that lived within these people regardless of what would happen next. These were the things that the Russian Tsar-- nor any government leader-- could take away. And these were the things that had been propelling Tevye and his neighbors going from the start, long before the anti-semitic persecution escalated to this point. Their lives are undeniably harder now, of course. They have even less riches and possession than they began the film with (and that was already barely anything). Uncertainty for the future has never been at a higher peak. On an earthly level, they are completely destitute and hopeless. But it was never the earthly things that were their fuel, their life force.
So that's the message. Life is and might continue to be harder than it was. The government might have us trapped in our homes, terrified, isolated, and severely restricted. We might endure sickness, death, and great economic hardship. The suffering might be very real and very painful. But no matter was is taken from us, we will, of course, always have God. This is how we can still laugh at funny jokes and find peace in simple moments. This is how we can carry on with our daily duties (though some of this looks very different now, due to quarantine). This is how we can prevent our entire lives from being swallowed by despair, even when the pandemic continues to haunt and threaten us. You see, it is isn't over. It isn't over because it was never the normalcy of every day life and the greater security of the future that was keeping us going to begin with. Although we undeniably have to make more sacrifices now than we had to a few months ago, it was never the earthly things that were our life force. It has always been God, whether we explicitly recognized it or not. And we can rejoice in this knowledge, even when we weep for what we have lost, because whatever happens in our insane, suffering world, God is with us, He has always been with us, and He will continue to be with us. When the disease rears its ugly head into your life or even our own government threatens to continually (and often irrationally) strip away our freedoms, we have the strongest defense. We can look evil straight in the eye and with confidence say, "You've succeeded in taking a lot from me, but you can't take away my God."
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