Tradition

Last weekend, South Christian presented its spring musical, one of my favorites,
Fiddler on the Roof. Katie and her friend Sarah played the central character Tevye's two youngest daughters.

I've watched the movie several times, seen the play performed live several times, and am quite familiar with the music, but as I watched it this time (completely impressed by the young man, Jon Berry, playing Tevye--can't wait to see him next year!), I couldn't help but think about how much could be learned from one of the central themes: the role of tradition in the lives of these early twentieth-century Jews living in a village in Russia. Tevye tells the audience early in the play that "without our traditions, our lives would be as shaky as--a fiddler on the roof!"

The events of the play that unfold demonstrate that in a world that is constantly changing, traditions are only as strong as those who cling to or dismiss them. Marriage customs are called into question as each of Tevye's three oldest daughters progressively break with form. The first couple forms their own match without the help of the town matchmaker but still seeks Tevye's permission and blessing. The second daughter, who marries a young Jewish radical Communist forerunner, seeks Tevye's blessing but tells him they will marry without his permission. In both instances there is poignant humor as Tevye soliloquizes, weighing tradition against
norm. He cites all of the traditions, and then calls them into question, opening himself to a new way of thinking as he says, "On the other hand . . ." In both instances, Tevye is able to convince himself to break with tradition and accept his daughters' marriages.

His third daughter, however, marries a Russian who is not a Jew, and it's interesting that Tevye can't bring himself to accept this breach of tradition. Tevye declares his daughter dead, but he is still treated sympathetically. We still like him; in fact, we feel sorry for him. Is it because, perhaps, there is something more at stake here than a broken tradition? We sympathize with Tevye because his third daughter is asking something of him that he cannot give.

And then I thought about what a wonderful learning experience about tradition versus biblical principles this could be for the students participating in the play, many of them from Reformed churches. After becoming Reformed, one of the first things that made an impression on me was the role of tradition in church. As someone "from the outside," who did not grow up in the Reformed church, I've observed that this is one of the most difficult things facing Reformed people today: distinguishing tradition from norms. What does God require, and what is simply something we just do because we've always done it that way? And I've seen two radically different reactions
by church groups who have some difficulty distinguishing tradition from what God requires.

In one instance, tradition is elevated to the level of dogma, so that church members
are found faithful not just for how they live out the doctrines of the Scriptures but by how well they keep traditions too. In other Reformed churches, dogma and tradition are also placed on the same level of authority, so that when a church decides it no longer wants to keep a tradition, it throws out doctrinal standards as well. The baby goes out with the bathwater. Catechisms, confessions, and forms of subscription are quaint relics of the past, much like the oil lamps from Great Grandma that we display in our china cabinets. Nice to look at, but fairly useless and irrelevant.

What Tevye shows us is that when practice is based on tradition, we have to be willing to open ourselves to new ways of thinking, new ways of doing things. Although we may not like it, tradition can be changed, and we mustn't dismiss those who decide to blaze new trails, as long as their choices are in keeping with Scripture. But when there is a breach of something deeper than tradition--something binding us like biblical principle--we ought to take a stand for what is right, and it may mean division and separation.

At any rate it is a wonderful musical with great universal themes, humor, romance--a play "laden with happiness and tears."

Things We Couldn't Say

While frequent commenter to this blog, Jewels, may be enjoying the Netherlands in person this week, we "traveled" there this weekend courtesy of Master Arts Theatre and its production of Things We Couldn't Say by Diet Eman.

The play is an adaptation of Ms. Eman's book of the same title, which is on my list of "must reads" in the near future. I'm thankful that director Pris McDonald and the actors and actresses have brought this story of true heroism, sacrificial love, and godly faith to the stage to a culture that has lost sight of what true heroism is.

Diet was 20 years old and engaged to the love of her life when Hitler's troops invaded the Netherlands in 1940. One of Diet's co-workers, a Jew, received notice that he and his family were to report with a small suitcase to a designated place. Diet's awareness of his predicament forced her and her fiance into action. Hein, her fiance, told her, "If we don't do anything, when this is all over, we won't be able to look each other in the eye."

They both became involved in the Dutch Resistance, and eventually both were arrested and sent to prison camps. In the play, an older Diet is recalling her experiences for her biographer. As she recounts her story, the younger Diet of World War II and her fiance, Hein, step on stage to let us "see" the story unfold.

It is a love story--love for God, the love Diet and Hein shared, and love of country. It is also a sad story of pain, suffering, and loss. But it is a timely story for those of us living in the twenty-first century, where the threat is no longer a German madman but those who worship Allah and would have the rest of the world do so as well.

We are reminded, through Diet's story, of the cost of freedom and the selflessness of those who are willing to give themselves to protect and defend it. In the audience with us were many who lived in the Netherlands during that terrible war and many World War II veterans who had experienced the terror firsthand. It made the experience all the more poignant to know that we were observing this story with those who had actually lived it. While Jonathan, at nearly 14, looked to be the youngest person in the audience, it is a story that more children should see, so that they can learn and remember that there is a struggle between good and evil, and it is a war that must be fought.

The play will be performed the next two weekends at Master Arts Thursday, Friday, and Saturday evenings with Saturday afternoon matinees both weekends. It's a moving and valuable experience, and I highly recommend it.