Tevye and Me

Sunday night was the highlight of the week in the Danielson house when I was a kid. We got our chores done early and we would gather around our old black and white TV to watch The Wonderful World of Disney and Bonanza. Disney was ok, but the show I really wanted to see was Bonanza.   Here were the men we all wanted to grow up to be. They were humble, honest, courageous, daring, smart, successful and handsome. And although the brothers fought each other now and again, they actually seemed to like one another. Above it all stood Ben Cartwright, the firm, caring, driven, loving father of the whole brood. He was always fair and always supportive. He knew what was right and what was wrong and he helped his children meet the challenges they faced. He demanded respect, not because he had power, but because he was successful and humble. His boys were never afraid to approach “Pa” when they had a problem. I envied the Cartwright boys.  They got to ride horses around and their dad always seemed to know just how to make everything right. (They never had to feed or shovel the manure of the horses either!) Bonanza made being a father – even a single father – seem pretty straight forward. A few stern looks, some wise advice, and - presto - all was good. Even the occasional gunfight seemed necessary to build strong children. My Dad must not have watched as carefully as I did. Needless to say, I came to learn a bit more about being a father when I actually became one. And now, having accepted the challenge of playing one of the iconic fathers of the musical stage, I’ve discovered some new insights about fatherhood, acting, and growing up.

Tevye, for those who haven’t seen Fiddler on the Roof, is the Jewish milkman living in eastern Russia around the turn of the 20^th century. He is the father of five daughters in an arranged marriage with Golde, his wife. In his small, fictitious village of Anatevka, Tevye struggles to make sense of the changing world around him.  I recognize that I am different from Tevye in fundamental ways, but I am surprised at how much we are alike.  

Tevye is a sarcastic optimist who exasperates his wife with his frequent kidding around. This modern adaptation of Tevye makes him a member of the “age of irony” long before it came into fashion. It would be hard for me to remember how many times I have been told by my parents, my teachers, and sometimes even my friends to, “Stop fooling around!”.  As the youngest in my family, I was the peacemaker and humor was the easiest way to avoid conflict. Tevye uses the same approach to deal with those around him. When Golde throws up her hands and says, “You could die from such a man!” I know what Tevye feels.

Tevye is also learning from his children. As a product of a more restrictive age, his faith and his culture have created very rigid rules for men and women in his community. It is clear that he is deeply rooted in the traditions of his culture, but it’s also clear that he is puzzled by the purpose of some traditions. He seems almost oblivious to the privileges he has as a man until he sees that those privileges are not given to his daughters, especially in choosing a partner. I can identify with that. I grew up in a farm family in rural Wisconsin where the division of labor between men and women – at least in theory – was clear. As I grew up in the 1960’s, especially when I went off to college, my awareness about how men and women follow their ambitions was raised. But it was not until I became the father of daughters that I REALLY paid attention to the blatant and subtle ways my girls were discouraged from following their dreams. This also applied during my career as a teacher. Seeing my students confront heart breaking problems taught me lessons about grace and courage I can never forget. For Tevye, his children help him see how traditions can sometimes hurt the ones you love, especially when they ignore the needs of each individual. It causes him to think about his own life.

Tevye wants to understand why his life is what it is. It isn’t that he wants it to be different necessarily, he just needs to know what the plan is. He believes the path to this understanding is learning and knowledge. He wishes to “discuss the holy books with learned men” and he will barter to give his daughters a private tutor. (Perchik, the radical from the city, embodies much of what Tevye admires.) I appreciate Tevye’s intuition. I also believe that education is the path to enlightenment. Our lives are richer and more fulfilling when we read and talk and come to know how the world works. Tevye never gets the chance to study with scholars, but his pursuit leads him to a profound understanding.

In the movie Beautiful Mind, the character John Nash, the Nobel physicist says, “It is only in the mysterious equations of love that any logic or reasons can be found.”  I believe Tevye comes to discover this truth about his life with Golde as he confronts the needs and desires of his children. He has been told his whole life what his duty is, but he discovers that the most important experience in his life is his love for Golde. When he asks Golde the most powerful question anyone can ask, “Do you love me?” and she responds, “I suppose I do”, they both act like it’s no big deal, but we all know it is. It has taken me a long time to realize that what I do and what I have is insignificant to those I love. And just like Tevye, I have come to know that the notion of “love” we grow up with is often far from the reality we experience. I thank the “mysterious equations” of the universe that Tevye and I know what it means to love someone heart and soul.

Tevye is also a man of deep religious faith.  He believes his people are the “chosen people”, although he often is confused by what that means. He believes his God has a plan for him, but he can’t understand sometimes why the plan has to be so difficult. I can only pretend to believe as Tevye believes. Although I was baptized Catholic, confirmed Lutheran, attended Episcopal, Congregational, and Methodist churches, I have not found a religious organization that makes sense to me. I do identify with Tevye’s sense of decency and compassion, but while I recognize his anguish over his decision to reject his daughter, I find it difficult to accept. I think Tevye eventually does, too. He can’t abandoned his faith, but he knows his daughter does not deserve to be rejected. He does what many of us do; he follows his conscience and hopes his compassionate God will understand. How can you not love Tevye?

Ultimately, Tevye finds grace by accepting his own circumstances and by knowing he is loved. Perhaps that is all any of us can expect. I learned soon enough that there are no Ben Cartwrights, at least none that I ever met. I learned soon enough the dreams I had as a kid changed as I grew older. Most important, I learn there is no way to avoid heartbreak and disappointment. Yet, with the love of family and friends, it is possible to face the darkness with a candle and a smile. “Of course, we don’t eat like kings, but we don’t starve either!” Maybe that’s enough for Tevye and me.