Chapter 1: The Power of Storytelling

Last night, while browsing channels, I stumbled upon PBS and was thrilled to catch the start of a timeless classic—Fiddler on the Roof. This film, which I have revisited many times, first graced the screen in 1971, adapting a musical that premiered in 1963. The narrative is rooted in a collection of stories by Sholem Aleichem, known as Sholem Rabinovich, written over two decades from 1894 to 1914. The tales, titled "Tevye der milkhiker," translate to Tevye the Milkman in Yiddish. Rabinovich is often referred to as the "Yiddish Mark Twain," and there’s a charming anecdote about him meeting Twain, who jokingly called him the "American Sholem Rabinovich."

Fiddler on the Roof chronicles the lives of Tevye, his wife Golde, and their five daughters—Tzeitel, Hodel, Chava, Shprintze, and Bielke—navigating their daily existence amidst societal turmoil in the early 1900s. Set in the fictional village of Anatevka, located within The Pale of Settlement, the story unfolds against the backdrop of looming evictions. The narrative primarily focuses on the love lives of the three older daughters, while the two younger ones remain silent. Key themes include the struggle to uphold tradition in a world of change, the enduring power of love, and the quest for survival amidst adversity.

The musical and its film adaptation have been translated into various languages, gaining global acclaim. It resonates across cultures, much like how "My Big Fat Greek Wedding" could easily represent any cultural wedding experience.

Just as we began to enjoy the first song, my sister called to inquire if I was watching Fiddler. She reminded me of our childhood experience watching the stage production, featuring Herschel Bernardi as the dairyman—a character rich in love and spirit despite financial struggles. We reminisced about our paternal grandparents' origins. Were they from a village akin to Anatevka? I recalled hearing that our grandmother was just 16 when she immigrated with her parents to escape the pogroms. I knew little about our grandfather's journey to Philadelphia, where he ultimately met my grandmother in an arranged marriage—a theme echoed in Fiddler. They raised four children, including our father, and I believe we even had the soundtrack to sing along to, as music was a vital part of our upbringing. My grandfather passed away before I was born, leaving me with unanswered questions about his life. I often wished I had asked my grandmother, affectionately called Bubbe, about her early memories.

Watching the film now, with contemporary issues in mind, I noticed subtleties I had overlooked before. Tevye, while embodying patriarchal values, invited Perchik, an itinerant teacher and activist, into their home to educate his daughters—an unusual choice in a time when girls often lacked formal education. My grandmother Rebecca was multilingual yet unable to read or write in any of those languages. My mother shared that while she signed her name once upon gaining citizenship, she never did so again. I often wonder how she passed the citizenship test—perhaps there were translators present. Despite Tevye's authoritative stance, his daughters skillfully maneuvered around his decisions, reminiscent of how my father would say they had him wrapped around their fingers. As someone raised in Conservative Judaism, I grapple with the limitations placed on women regarding worship and personal expression, though I recognize the beauty some find in tradition.

Another prevalent theme in the story is the animosity towards those perceived as 'the other.' Tevye's fear of change becomes apparent when Perchik introduces progressive ideas, such as love-based marriage and social dancing. Tevye's resistance peaks when he discovers that his daughter Chava has fallen in love with Fyedka, a Russian Orthodox Christian. He forbids their union, and when Chava defies him, marrying Fyedka regardless, he makes a heart-wrenching decision that many parents face: she becomes dead to him. Even as Chava and Fyedka express their desire to leave a land divided by hatred, Tevye struggles to accept his daughter's choice, ultimately offering her a reluctant blessing, "God be with you."

I found solace in Tevye's conversations with the Divine, where he expresses gratitude for his blessings while seeking understanding amid hardship and violence. I, too, engage in dialogues with God to navigate the confusion I observe in the world, where anti-Semitism and other forms of hatred are on the rise.

As the family forges ahead, Tevye looks back to see The Fiddler, inviting him to join their journey to New York City—symbolizing his commitment to carrying on the traditions of his ancestors.

As a granddaughter of immigrants who honor their legacy, I empathize with those displaced by war, climate change, and violence. I often ponder the fates of infants, the sick, and the vulnerable in such crises, and what sustains their spirits in dire times.

The timing of these reflections aligns perfectly with May being Jewish American Heritage Month, and I pay tribute to Chaim Topol, who portrayed Tevye and passed away this past March. May his memory be a blessing.

Read more from The Good Men Project on Medium.

Chapter 2: Exploring Ancestral Wisdom

Drawing Your Ancestors with Tanna Tucker | Friday Night Comics Workshops - YouTube: This workshop encourages participants to engage creatively with their heritage by drawing their ancestors, exploring themes of identity and belonging.

Chapter 3: The Role of Ancestry in Modern Society

The wisdom of your ancestors should be ignored | Mary-Theresa Tringale | TEDxYorkBeach: This TEDx talk challenges the audience to reconsider the relevance of ancestral wisdom in contemporary life, provoking thought about tradition and progress.