Fiddler Sermon 3 - The Powerful Women of Anatevka (But Can They Work Together?)

About eight weeks ago, I first had the idea of doing a series of sermons on Fiddler on the Roof, leading up to our performance of the show, which begins tonight. It’s really quite hard to believe it’s here already. Back when I was thinking of these sermon topics, it all seemed so distant…

And soon after I outlined these four titles, I was invited to speak to the Sisterhood, at one of their Sisterhood: Uncorked events, which are really just informal nights out at a local restaurant or bar, mainly for schmoozing and socializing, but with some learning and thought-provoking conversation thrown in from time to time.

So when I was asked to speak to Sisterhood, and just around the time I was thinking about Fiddler, I thought it would be a good opportunity to ‘test out’ some of this material. And, perhaps not so surprisingly, I chose this third sermon to practice on them. I’m calling this sermon, “The Powerful Women of Anatevka (But Can They Work Together?).” And similar to last week’s discussion about the men of Anatevka, I feel torn about these female characters. On the one hand (as Tevye would say…), they are almost across the board more powerful than the men. If you had to name the top five STRONG protagonists in this play, I think at least four, if not all five, would be women.

And yet, on the other hand, I don’t always agree with the choices they make about how to use their power, and I don’t necessarily see them working together, to help one another out along the way.

But I wanted to begin today’s sermon by mentioning my talk at the Sisterhood: Uncorked event, because something really fascinating happened there. Some of the things that bothered me in the play, didn’t really bother the women of Sisterhood. Or perhaps, they were just more sympathetic than I, and viewed the choices that these women made, or perhaps most women - even today - make, or more specifically mothers feel they HAVE TO make, with greater understanding than I did. And I found that really interesting. But let me get back to that in a few minutes.

As with my previous two sermons, I want to use the theme of ‘generations’ to focus today’s conversation. Simultaneously, we will examine the different generations of audiences that read these stories or watched this play, and also look at the generations of women portrayed in the drama itself.

I want to begin with the people themselves; the women of Anatevka. We see a rift between generations in this story, which is quite significant. Representing the older generation are Yente, the matchmaker, and Golde, the matriarch of this family. We’re introduced to Yente in the first song of the play, ‘Tradition,’ where she tries to set up the bookseller, Avram’s less-than-handsome son with a young girl who is blind. ‘The way she sees and he looks, they’re a perfect match!’ she exclaims, and we all laugh. And yet, it’s disturbing, no? Are these really the top criteria for her matches? Isn’t the whole point of a matchmaker that she’s trying to make GOOD matches, that she would ideally be from this village, familiar with the people of this village, and would really be working overtime to pair people together who could really make it work?

You may say, ‘yeah, but it’s just one time, for a laugh in the opening scene.’ However, the play ends with her coming back to Golde with two boys, whom she wants to set up with the two youngest daughters, Shprintze and Bielke. When Golde asks, ‘which one for which?’ Yente sounds surprised, as if it’s a stupid question, and responds: ‘what’s the difference? Take your pick.’ Again, a good laugh, but now the picture of her in her chosen career is getting even worse. And when the oldest daughters sing their ‘Matchmaker’ song, they too speak of how Yente will happily pair you with someone who is 40 years older, an alcoholic, and/or abusive. All so that she can get her commission for having made a ‘successful’ match?

And the more we learn about her, we aren’t necessarily surprised. She was in an unhappy marriage as well, probably set up by some OTHER matchmaker who didn’t care that much. It’s especially troublesome when you think that as a woman, particularly someone who was NOT in a good marriage, she SHOULD be looking out for the safety and happiness of these younger women. And yet, she is the one they are the most afraid of. Sadly, this is not unlike reality in some cultures. Where female genital mutilation takes place, in some Muslim and African cultures, the women are not only the perpetuators and promoters of this cruel and painful custom, they are sometimes the ones performing the mutilation itself!

And even in Western society, we often talk about bullying, and specifically attacks on young girls and teens regarding their promiscuity, what’s sometimes referred to as ‘slut-shaming,’ and the perpetrators are frequently other girls, mothers, and women in the community.

The other representative of the older generation is Golde. Her first words in the play are sarcastic and critical of her youngest daughters, when they ask where to put the logs they’ve just brought in. ‘Put them on my head. By the stove, foolish girl!’ Not a very nice introduction to Golde and her relationship with her daughters. And the first director of our play, Jessica Stinson, shared an insight that really stuck with me: She pointed out that the girls go to Tevye for love and comfort, not Golde. When Tzeitel is promised to the older butcher, Lazar Wolf, Golde is super-excited and doesn’t even see that Tzeitel is devastated. Tevye doesn’t see it right away either, but when Tzeitel appeals to one of them to save her from this horrible scenario, it’s her father, Tevye, not her mother.

Throughout the play, we really see Tevye being affectionate with the girls (‘THIS ONE is mine, and THIS ONE is mine, and THIS ONE is mine…’), and talking about seeing the love and hope in their eyes. We hear no such thing from Golde.

And this is where the Sisterhood women and I differed. They felt that it often falls to the mothers to be the practical ones, to make tough decisions, to focus on education, future, planning, organization, while the father gets to come in as ‘good cop’ when it’s convenient. The mothers sometimes don’t  have the luxury to see only what Tevye sees. And I thought that was a fair point, and one I had not previously considered.

The truth is, it’s not black-and-white. They older women aren’t ‘evil,’ I think they’re just conflicted. They did not have a say in their own husbands, and so it’s hard not to regard the next generation’s plea for independence and freedom with some jealousy and maybe even bitterness. ‘This isn’t how it’s done! I didn’t get to choose, so why should you?’

But the younger generation won’t be silenced. The oldest daughter, Tzeitel, is really the master of her own destiny. She tries to play within the rules of the game, quietly poking and prodding her beloved (but nebishy) Motel to ask for her hand. And when he essentially fails, and her father has set her up with someone else, she finally steps in and convinces Tevye it’s the wrong match. When Motel then comes dashing in to save the day, the hard part has already really been done by Tzeitel!

Hodel and Chava, the next two daughters, both demonstrate they too are very clever, and that they have inquisitive minds; Hodel matching wits with the university-educated Perchik (which catches him off guard) and Chava through her reading, which she refuses to quit, despite her mother’s chastisement.

A lot of this was really developed in the 1960s, for the stage version of ‘Fiddler on the Roof,’ during a time of Feminism and Women’s Liberation. But it’s also true that in the late 1800s, Sholem Aleichem DID write a play about a man with SEVEN (not the later five) daughters, where the father was somewhat warm and affectionate, and his daughters DID make their own choices about whom to marry. So part of this theme of powerful women was inherent in the original story, and then later reinforced in the 1960s. But it really is striking. Yente, Golde, Tzeitel, Hodel, and Chava, they are all the strongest characters in the entire play, more so than the main protagonist (who loses nearly every argument with the women in his family), the rabbi, the constable, or the silent fiddler.

Furthermore, when Tevye finally manages to orchestrate a BIG move – paving the way for Tzeitel to marry Motel instead of the intended Lazar – how does he convince his wife? By fabricating a dream in which two WOMEN, Grandma Tzeitel and Lazar’s deceased first wife, Frumah Sarah, come to him in a dream to denounce the planned wedding. It’s as if to say that in order to really scare his wife straight, he needs to turn to women who truly intimidate Golde to change her mind. And sure enough, later in the play when he tries to bellow and throw his weight around (‘when I get angry, even flies don’t dare to fly!!!’), she is completely unimpressed (‘Oh, I’m really scared. After dinner, I’ll faint.’).

One of the reasons, I think, that ‘Fiddler on the Roof’ has such staying power, and delivers such a universal message, is because it speaks of egalitarianism. It begins by pretending that ‘Tradition’ governs all aspects of society, and everyone should, and does, know his or her place in the community. And yet, the play is all about changing that. Everyone can pull themselves up by their bootstraps from the lowest rung on the totem pole (to mix metaphors…), and anyone can make his/her dreams come true.

In this story, the heroes are really heroines; women who fight for happiness and equality despite the odds. But it was an inspiration to so many, because we all can feel like these daughters sometimes; underappreciated, ignored, and pushed around. And sometimes we need to take a step back and realize that there are people around us who COULD and SHOULD be our closest allies, and yet we are pulling in opposite directions. The women of Anatevka could run this place, and would probably make it a much more efficient, happy, wealthy, and harmonious place for everyone, not just the women.

This is the realization that is rapidly dawning on researchers in developing countries; when you give the money and aid to men, they use it on alcohol, gambling, and prostitution. When you give it to women, everyone benefits! Education improves, hostility lessens, the environment is positively affected; it’s incredible. The men of Anatevka are busy arguing about whether it was a horse or a mule that was sold, and if an agreement was sealed when they drank on it while wasting their money at the tavern, or whether the terms needed to be settled as well. What a waste of time!

With almost no effort at all, these women could be in charge, but they don’t really work together. And so this is the lesson for us all, as we watch the play and read the stories of ‘Tevye, the milkman.’ How do we identify allies? How can we band together to improve conditions for everyone, not just ourselves? And how can we internalize, and then model with our own actions, the equality that is so central to the message of this play?

The story of the women of Anatevka is a story of power and egalitarianism. Anyone and everyone has the potential to be powerful and to affect change, from the youngest daughter of a poor milkman to anyone of us in the room here today.  

And speaking of the youngest daughters of milkmen, at the end of ‘Fiddler’ we once again hear from Tevye’s two remaining children, Shprintze and Bielke. As everyone else in the village is devastated, deflated, and full of despair, as they mope around preparing to leave Anatevka, the two little girls dance and sing: “We’re going on a train and a boat, we’re going on a train and a boat!” They embrace the future, full of adventure and opportunity; excited to see what awaits them on the other side of the ocean.

May we all learn from, and be inspired by, their powerful example.

Shabbat Shalom!