I’m such a big fan of happy endings, that you might wonder why Fiddler makes my list, despite its painful ending with Tevye and all the people he loves being driven out of their little village.
There are a lot of reasons, including the brilliant dialogue, the unforgettable music, and the soulful dancing. There is unexpected depth in the characters that I’ve come to appreciate even more as a director, reading and re-reading lines for meaning. But the most important reason is because of the theme and its universality. And that’s what I want to write about here.
So what’s the theme of Fiddler on the Roof? It has something to do with the struggle to hold onto oneself while being pulled between Tradition and Modernity. The entire show is about Tevye’s journey from celebrating the way that Tradition dictates every aspect of his people’s daily life to thoughtfully abandoning one tradition after another for the sake of what he loves more – his family and his communal faith in God.
“Here in Anatevka we have traditions for everything… how to eat, how to sleep, how to wear clothes,” Tevye explains as the show begins. “Because of our traditions, everyone knows who he is and what God expects him to do.” Tradition, he seems to be saying, is everything – both the source of his people’s identity and a manifestation of God’s will. To underscore his point, we see the Fiddler, a symbol of Tradition, presiding over the entire prologue, high on a rooftop, playing the tune to which the entire village dances.
But Tevye can’t keep dancing in perfect sync with Tradition’s tune longer than half-way into the first act. That’s when he discovers that Tzeitel, the eldest daughter for whom he’s just arranged a marriage to a wealthy and much older man, has pledged to marry Motel, her poor, childhood friend. Tevye’s flummoxed. He argues “Marriages must be arranged by the papa.” If he breaks with Tradition on this, what else might he be called upon to accept? But Motel is actually trying to arrange the marriage with the papa. He’s acting as his own matchmaker, which is unusual but still honours Tevye’s traditional role. So, when Tevye sees the love and hope on his daughter’s face, he relents. It means creating something of a scandal in the village in addition to offering an insult to both the matchmaker and the prearranged groom. But his daughter’s happiness is more important than that.
It turns out that Tevye’s fear of where compromise could lead is justified. After the wedding, his daughters’ tutor, Perchik, informs Tevye that he is going away and that he’s engaged to marry the second daughter, Hodel. Tevye has no objection to Perchik, in fact, he’s given many hints that he’d like the young man for a son-in-law. But now, Perchik is leaving and Tevye isn’t willing to part with Hodel, so he tells them no. Perchik says, “We are not asking for your permission, only for your blessing.” This is a heavy blow and a much bigger breach. Tradition dictates that Tevye should reassert his authority, send Perchik packing and lock Hodel up in her room until she submits. But he loves her too much for that, so he tells them they have his blessing and his permission.
Tragedy follows when he learns that his third daughter Chava has been visiting with a Russian Christian. This is in defiance of both Jewish and Russian traditions. For generations, both peoples have been giving each other such a wide berth that the local constable thinks he’s being friendly when he tells Tevye, “You are a decent, honest person, even though you are a Jewish dog.” Fyedka, the young Russian, doesn’t hold with traditions that separate people into opposing categories, but Tevye dismisses him as a “creature.” When Chava protests that Fyedka is a man, Tevye calls him “a different kind of man.” He warns his daughter to keep her distance because “a bird may love a fish, but where would they build a home together?”
So far, every time he’s been faced with a choice between a daughter’s happiness and upholding tradition, Tevye has started out loudly defending Tradition, only to eventually talk himself into surrendering it. But when Chava confides that she and Fyedka want to marry, the stakes become much higher. Now, it’s about faith and the ancient covenant between Jews and God. “Don’t you know what this means, marrying outside of the faith?” he asks. Then he forbids her to ever see Fyedka again or even speak his name.
The next day, when Tevye learns that Chava has run away and married Fyedka in a Christian ceremony, he reacts according to Tradition, telling his wife, “Chava is dead to us! We will forget her. Go home.”
But he is not himself capable of forgetting. He sings mournfully about her, only to be interrupted by Chava’s arrival to beg for his acceptance. Tevye agonizes, “can I deny my own child?... On the other hand, how can I turn my back on my faith, my people? If I try to bend that far, I will break.” He shouts, “No – no – no –” and stumbles away, while the Chorus sings, “Tradition. Tradition. Tradition.”
This, I think, is the lowest point of the show. Tevye has established a hierarchy of values that are fundamental to his own identity: being part of the covenant with God is at his core, then comes his family and then Tradition. He has no mechanism for reconciling his core identity with his daughter’s choice to leave the faith and he falls back on what has always steadied him, Tradition. But we can see that casting her off has broken him as well.
Fortunately, that’s not how the show ends. Instead, Chava and Fyedka come to say goodbye when Tevye’s family and the rest of the village are being forced to leave. The couple is also leaving, unwilling to “stay among people who can do such things to others.” Tevye refuses to acknowledge Chava until the last moment, when Tzeitel defies his edict that they are dead and calls out, “Goodbye, Chava, Fyedka.”
Tradition would have Tevye chastise Tzeitel for speaking to them. But Tevye listens to something closer to his core. He prompts Tzeitel to add a blessing, “God be with you!” and his loved ones joyously make plans to correspond with each other. He turns and watches as Chava leaves and he recovers a lost piece of himself.
A few moments later, Tevye follows his family and his people out of Anatevka. Before he goes, though, he beckons to the Fiddler who is no longer on the roof but standing alone on the ground. The curtain falls as Tradition follows Tevye off the stage.
For me, the message comes through loud and clear. It is that our traditions can and should be cherished at the same time that they need to be critically analyzed and put in their place.
It’s a message that applies to people of all stripes. Tradition gives us a sense of shared community while passing on the collected wisdom of generations past. Only, it’s not only our wisdom, but also, our persistent misunderstandings and our prejudices that get bound up in our traditions. And because they are passed on within communities, we tend to think of them as common sense. They become so much a part of what we’ve always believed, that we rarely question them, even when they’re hurting us, the people we love, or our traditional enemies.
In that respect, Tevye is remarkable. While he has traditional gut reactions, he tends to pause and explore “the other hand.” This allows him to eventually get free of the strangle-hold of Tradition and to make decisions that are in line with his personal values. He still values Tradition, but gets to a place where he’s driving it rather than the other way around. And that gives him outsized influence for just a milkman in his community.
For people who want to build bridges across divides, thinking critically about our traditions, holding on to what is helpful in them, and shaking off what is not, are vital skills. And that’s a big reason why Fiddler on the Roof is one of my favourites.
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