Tradition!
It probably will come as no surprise that I love the musical “Fiddler on the Roof.” I don’t remember the first time I saw it; it has always been part of my life. I have seen the movie dozens of times, as I’m sure many of you have as well. I have only seen one stage production – it starred the legendary Theodore Bikel and was truly an amazing experience. The musical is based on Shalom Aleichem’s stories “Tevye the Dairyman,” which was required reading in my undergraduate Jewish literature class. For anyone who hasn’t read these stories, I would highly recommend them as an interesting snapshot of Jewish life in tsarist Russia.
“Fiddler on the Roof” has given us, the Jewish community, a repertoire of songs to express our experiences. I have had these songs in my mind for a few days, as we recently learned that Jerry Bock, the composer of the show, has passed away. I am going to try not to break out into song while speaking this morning, but I make no promises. For the passage of time, we have “Sunrise, Sunset,” which is sung from the perspective of parents whose children are standing under the huppah about to be married. The first lines give words to a common parental emotion – “Is this the little girl I carried, is this the little boy at play? I don’t remember growing older, when did they?” “Matchmaker” expresses a woman’s yearning to find the perfect partner. The song “Do you love me?” offers I poignant glimpse into the world of arranged marriage and the development of the bonds of love. Each time I watch Fiddler I find myself amazed at how accurately the film portrays life experiences and emotions that I can identify with. The setting of the story is 100 years ago and thousands of miles away, but it strikes a chord with modern life.
Perhaps one of the most well known numbers in the show is the opening song, “Tradition.” It sets the scene well, informing the audience that we are entering a community that has certain ways of doing things. Each person has a role that they are expected to fill. Regarding fathers, we learn:
Who, day and night, must scramble for a living,
Feed a wife and children, say his daily prayers?
And who has the right, as master of the house,
To have the final word at home?
Right away, we become aware that the men in the community are hard working and pious, and that they expect their rules and wishes to be honored by their families. Yet, throughout the play, we see this ideal unraveling. Children are no longer willing to obey their father’s every command. Their world is quickly becoming larger, and this poses a real difficulty for Tevye.
Tevye is committed to his traditions. He believes that they have served him well, as they served his father and the generations before him. And while he yearns for an easier life – singing “If I were a rich man” – we get the sense that Tevye is content with the way things are. The plot of the show focuses on Tevye facing a series of challenges to his precious “Tradition.” His daughters encounter men and fall in love. They are not the men that Tevye would have chosen for them. We watch as Tevye struggles with the decisions of his daughters. When is it okay to break with tradition? When have they gone too far?
These are questions that resonate with us today, and they are also questions that are apparent in our Torah. In our Genesis narrative we encounter traditions that are unfamiliar in our contemporary world. This morning’s parsha contains the story of Isaac’s sons, Jacob and Esau. As we know, only one can inherit his father’s status. Esau is older; and while this distinction is only by a matter of minutes, it is enough to merit him his father’s blessing. That is the tradition. It did not occur to anyone that things could be done any other way.
Or did it?
Rebecca was obviously dissatisfied with the reality that Esau would receive his father’s innermost blessing. She favored Jacob, the mild mannered son, over Esau the hunter. And so she set about to ensure that Jacob receive the blessing that, according to tradition, belonged to Esau.
It could be argued that Rebecca’s actions were revolutionary. She went against the societal norm, broke with tradition, and helped her younger son acquire his father’s blessing. Yet Rebecca did all of this in secret. She did not outwardly challenge the tradition. She did not go to Isaac and reason with him. And perhaps she did not think of the consequences of her actions. While Jacob did get the blessing, he immediately had to flee his childhood home, in fear of Esau’s retribution. Rebecca was separated from her favorite son. All in the name of tradition.
I don’t know why the tradition was to give the preferred blessing to the oldest son. I imagine that this practice was in place to avoid conflict. There was no need for sons to compete for a father’s love in order to receive a special inheritance – it was automatically given to the oldest. As the oldest child, I think I could get on board with this, although I bet my sister would disagree.
One test of the strength of a tradition is how well it holds up over time. The tradition of giving the special inheritance only to the oldest son did not hold up well. As Jacob’s descendants, the Israelites, settled the Land of Israel, property laws evolved so that all sons in a family inherited equally. By the Middle Ages, the tradition had further evolved to allow for women to inherit land as well. Prior to the establishment of the State of Israel, the chief rabbi of Palestine declared that daughters inherit with equal footing to their sons. Some traditions, while they have their relevance at a certain place in time, were not meant to last.
There’s a joke that follows along these lines. A young girl asks her mother to teach her how to make brisket. The mother is thrilled and enjoys giving her daughter all of the family secrets, reiterating that it is essential that her daughter follow each step if she wishes to come out with a delicious final product. The last step in her recipe is to cut the ends off of the meat before placing it in the pan. “Why do you do that?” the girl asked.
“I don’t know. I watched my mother make brisket for years, and this is what she did, so this is what I do.” The girl was not satisfied with this answer, so she called her grandmother. “Bubbe, Mom is teaching me to make your brisket. But there is one thing I don’t understand. Why do you cut the edges off the brisket before putting it in the pan?” The grandmother laughed. “My pan isn’t big enough for the whole brisket, I have to cut off the edges.”
What began as a functional necessity became a beloved tradition. But, if your pan is big enough, you probably shouldn’t cut the edges off of your brisket.
I want to be clear that I am not suggesting that traditions do not hold an important value in society. Nothing could be further than the truth. As a Jewish community, our beloved traditions bind us together throughout the centuries and across the globe. Part of being a Conservative Jew is balancing tradition and change. It is not an easy task. It asks us to examine what we do and why we do it. Sometimes we find that traditions no longer serve us – just as Tevye’s daughters found that they did not need to have their father arrange their marriages.
Many of our traditions do stand the test of time. I think that is one of the reasons that I love “Fiddler on the Roof.” Even though it takes place in another time period, I recognize my own family in the characters. Nowhere is this more evident than the scene where they celebrate Shabbat. So much has changed over the century that divides us, but when it comes to Shabbat, we rest. We light candles, we enjoy a festive meal. The song, sung by the mothers and fathers of Anatevka, is as beautiful and valid on this Shabbat as it would have been in the time of Tevye:
May the Lord protect and defend you.
May He always shield you from shame.
May you come to be
In Israel a shining name.
May you be like Ruth and like Esther.
May you be deserving of praise.
Strengthen them, Oh Lord,
And keep them from the strangers’ ways.
May God bless you and grant you long lives.
(May the Lord fulfill our Sabbath prayer for you.)
May God make you good mothers and wives.
(May He send you husbands who will care for you.)
May the Lord protect and defend you.
May the Lord preserve you from pain.
Favor them, Oh Lord, with happiness and peace.
Oh, hear our Sabbath prayer. Amen.