The Fiddler Still Plays, But This Time We Have a Home

Last night, I went to see Fiddler on the Roof in Sydney.

It was fantastic, brilliantly done, and the fiddler was particularly special, my friend and musician Ben Adler, who did a superb job!

Throughout the show, there were so many moments that got me.

The Jews of Anatevka, living under the Russian Empire, asking the rabbi, “Is there a proper blessing for the Tsar?” and his brilliant response: “May G-d bless and keep the Tsar… far away from us!”

Or when Mottel the tailor gets his new sewing machine, and everyone in the shtetl wants to have a look, with the people asking the rabbi what the proper blessing for it would be.

There was something so sweet about their innocence, their simplicity and their absolute belief in their traditions (yes, the song is in my brain too!) and their beloved rabbi.

And Tevye. Poor Tevye, just trying his best. What a pure soul.

Always trying to see the glass half full rather than half empty. But indeed, the going gets tough, and my favourite saying from the entire play is when Tevye looks up to the sky and talks to G-d, his best friend and confidant:

“Dear G-d, did you have to send me news like that today of all days? I know, I know. We are the chosen people. But once in a while, can’t You choose someone else?”

Funny, but also painfully Jewish.

Throughout the story, you watch, see and feel what a unique time he was living through, and the world changing around him.

Tzeitel marries Mottel, challenging the traditional matchmaker system.

Hodel falls in love with Perchik, a revolutionary, and follows him to Siberia.

And Chava, his little Chavale, goes even further, marrying Fyedka, a non-Jew.

Tradition is being challenged, the world is changing, and Tevye is desperately trying to work out where he can bend and where he simply cannot.

He is placed in such tough situations, yet remains true to his faith and to what he perceives G-d would want him to do.

But what really got me was the ending.

They are expelled from Anatevka for no reason other than being Jewish. They have three days to pack up their entire lives and leave.

Again, Jews packing up their lives and leaving.

Yente, the matchmaker, is heading to the Holy Land. Lazar, the butcher, is going to Chicago, to a brother-in-law he doesn’t even like, and yet, as he says, “a relative is a relative.” Tevye and his family are also going to America, to their Uncle Moshe.

Even after being forced to flee from their homes, they just keep going, because what other choice do they have?

You could feel the emotion in the play, especially the emotion of Tevye’s wife, Golde.

And the fiddler picks up his violin and follows.

Right now, I’m teaching Year 10 at Moriah College, and my students are completing their Hans Kimmel Project, a huge family-history project, or project heritage, where they trace the lives of their ancestors.

I have spent many Shabbat mornings recently reading their stories.

And story after story has the same themes. Many of my students are of South African descent with an Ashkenazi background.

Jews leaving Lithuania. Poland. Russia. Europe.

Jews fleeing persecution, war and antisemitism.

Jews arriving in South Africa, Australia, Israel and elsewhere.

Starting again.

Building families.

Building communities.

Building Jewish life.

Again and again and again.

Watching Fiddler on the Roof while reading these family histories has been such a powerful reminder of the extraordinary strength and resilience of the Jewish people.

Because yes, unfortunately, a huge part of our story has involved Jew-haters.

And we are living through history right now too.

Jew-hatred has not disappeared. It has adapted.

And for many Jews, including me, this isn’t theoretical. I was at Bondi. I witnessed Jewish bloodshed firsthand.

So yes, this moment is painful.

But Fiddler on the Roof also reminded me of something else.

Our story HAS changed.

For thousands of years, when Jews were expelled from one place, we had to find somewhere else that might take us.

Today, we have somewhere to go.

We have our ancient homeland.

We have the State of Israel.

We have a Jewish army capable of defending Jewish lives.

And despite everything happening around us, that is an extraordinary privilege of the generation we are living in.

It is so easy right now to become consumed by the negativity, the hatred and the horrific labels being thrown at Israel, the IDF and the Jewish people.

But zoom out and look at the Jewish story.

Look at where we have come from.

Our ancestors could only dream of what we have today.

So perhaps the Jewish story is still the same story of challenge, survival, faith, rebuilding and moving forward.

But there is one enormous difference.

This time, we have come home.

And after everything our people have survived, that gives me enormous hope for what comes next.

Onwards and upwards.

Am Yisrael Chai, and Shabbat Shalom!