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How the late actor Topol turned Tevye into a Zionist
(JTA) — If you were born anytime before, say, 1975, you might remember Israel not as a source of angst and tension among American Jews but as a cause for celebration. In the 1960s and ’70s, most Jews embraced as gospel the heroic version of Israel’s founding depicted in Leon Uris’ 1958 novel “Exodus” and the 1960 movie version. The1961 Broadway musical “Milk and Honey,” about American tourists set loose in Israel, ran for over 500 performances. And that was before Israel’s lightning victory in the Six-Day War turned even fence-sitting suburban Jews into passionate Zionists.
That was the mood when the film version of “Fiddler on the Roof” came out in 1971. The musical had already been a smash hit on Broadway, riding a wave of nostalgia by Jewish audiences and an embrace of ethnic particularism by the mainstream. The part of Tevye, the put-upon patriarch of a Jewish family in a “small village in Russia,” was originated on Broadway by Zero Mostel, a Brooklyn-born actor who grew up in a Yiddish-speaking home. Ashkenazi American Jews tended to think of “Fiddler” as family history — what Alisa Solomon, author of the 2013 book “Wonder of Wonders: A Cultural History of Fiddler on the Roof,” describes as the “Jewish American origin story.”
But Mostel didn’t star in the film, which landed in theaters while the afterglow of Israel’s victory in its second major war of survival had yet to fade. Famously – or notoriously – the part went to Chaim Topol, a young Israeli actor unknown outside of Israel except for his turns in the London productions of “Fiddler.” With an Israeli in the lead, a musical about the perils and dilemmas of Diaspora became a film about Zionism. When Topol played Tevye in London, Solomon writes,“‘Fiddler’ became a site for celebration, drawing Jews as well as gentiles to the theater — some for repeat viewings — to bask in Jewish perseverance and to pay homage to Jewish survival. The show didn’t change, but the atmosphere around it did.”
Topol died this week at 87, still best known as Tevye, and his death reminded me of the ways “Fiddler” is — and isn’t — Zionist. When Tevye and his fellow villagers are forced out of Anatevke by the czarist police, they head for New York, Chicago and Krakow. Only Yente, the matchmaker, declares that she is going to the “Holy Land.” Perchik, the presumably socialist revolutionary who marries one of Tevye’s daughters, wants to transform Russian society and doesn’t say a word about the political Zionists who sought to create a workers’ utopia in Palestine.
“There is nothing explicitly or even to my mind implicitly Zionist about it,” Solomon told me a few years back. And yet, she said, “any story of Jewish persecution becomes from a Zionist perspective a Zionist story.”
When the Israeli Mission to the United Nations hosted a performance of the Broadway revival of “Fiddler” in 2016, that was certainly the perspective of then-Ambassador Dani Danon. Watching the musical, he said, he couldn’t help thinking, “What if they had a place to go [and the Jews of Anatevke could] live as a free people in their own land? The whole play could have been quite different.”
Israelis always had a complicated relationship with “Fiddler,” Solomon told me. The first Hebrew production was brought to Israel in 1965 by impresario Giora Godik. American Jews were enthralled by its resurrection of Yiddishkeit, the Ashkenazi folk culture that their parents and grandparents had left behind and the Holocaust had all but erased. Israelis were less inclined to celebrate the “Old Country.”
“Israelis were — what? — not exactly ashamed or hostile, but the Zionist enterprise was about moving away from that to become ‘muscle Jews,’ and even denouncing the stereotype of the pasty, weakling Eastern European Jews,” said Solomon, warning that she was generalizing.
That notion of the “muscle Jew” is echoed in a review of Topol’s performance by New Yorker critic Pauline Kael, who wrote that he is “a rough presence, masculine, with burly, raw strength, but also sensual and warm. He’s a poor man but he’s not a little man, he’s a big man brought low — a man of Old Testament size brought down by the circumstances of oppression.”
From left: Maria Karnilova, Tanya Everett, Zero Mostel, Julia Migenes and Joanna Merlin backstage at opening night of “Fiddler on the Roof” at the Imperial Theater in New York City, Sept. 22, 1964. (AP/Courtesy of Roadside Attractions and Samuel Goldwyn Films)
Mostel, by contrast, was plump, sweaty and vaudevillian — a very different kind of masculinity. The congrast between the two Tevyes shows up in, of all places, a parody of “Fiddler” in Mad magazine. In that 1976 comic, Mostel’s Tevye is reimagined as a neurotic, nouveau riche suburban American Jew with a comb-over, spoiled hippy children and a “spendthrift” wife; Topol’s Tevye arrives in a dream to blame his descendants for turning their backs on tradition and turning America into a shallow, consumerist wasteland. A kibbutznik couldn’t have said (or sung) it better.
Composer Jerry Bock, lyricist Sheldon Harnick and book writer Joseph Stein set out to write a hit musical, not a political statement. But others have always shaped “Fiddler” to their needs.
In the original script, Yente tells Tevye’s wife Golde, “I’m going to the Holy Land to help our people increase and multiply. It’s my mission.” In a 2004 Broadway revival, staged in the middle of the second intifada, the “increase and multiply” line was excised. In a review of Solomon’s “Wonder of Wonders,” Edward Shapiro conjectured that the producers of the revival didn’t want Yente to be seen as “a soldier in the demographic war between Jews and Arabs.”
Topol himself connected “Fiddler” to Israel as part of one long thread that led from Masada — the Judean fortress where rebellious Jewish forces fell to the Romans in the first century CE — through Russia and eventually to Tel Aviv. “My grandfather was a sort of Tevye, and my father was a son of Tevye,” Topol told The New York Times in 1971. “My grandfather was a Russian Jew and my father was born in Russia, south of Kiev. So I knew of the big disappointment with the [Russian] Revolution, and the Dreyfus trial in France, and the man with the little mustache on his upper lip, the creation of the state of Israel and ‘Masada will never fall again.’ It’s the grandchildren now who say that. It’s all one line — it comes from Masada 2,000 years ago, and this Tevye of mine already carries in him the chromosomes of those grandchildren.”
The recent all-Yiddish version of “Fiddler on the Roof” — a Yiddish translation of an English-language musical based on English translations of Yiddish short stories — readjusted that valence, returning “Fiddler” solidly to the Old Country. It arrived at a time when surveys suggested that Jews 50 and older are much more emotionally attached to Israel than are younger Jews. For decades, “Exodus”-style devotion to Israel and its close corollary — Holocaust remembrance — were the essence of American Jewish identity. Among younger generations with no first-hand memories of its founding or victory in the 1967 war, that automatic connection faded.
Meanwhile, as Israeli politics have shifted well to the right, engaged liberal Jews have rediscovered the allure of pre-Holocaust, pre-1948, decidedly leftist Eastern European Jewish culture. A left-wing magazine like Jewish Currents looks to the socialist politics and anti-Zionism of the Jewish Labor Bund; symposiums on Yiddish-speaking anarchists and Yiddish-language classes draw surprisingly young audiences. A Yiddish “Fiddler” fits this nostalgia for the shtetl (as does the “Fiddler” homage in the brand-new “History of the World, Part II,” which celebrates the real-life radical Fanny Kaplan, a Ukrainian Jew who tried to assassinate Lenin).
Topol’s Tevye was an Israeli Tevye: young, manly, with a Hebrew accent. Mostel’s Tevye was an American Tevye: heimish, New York-y, steeped in Yiddishkeit. It’s a testament to the show’s enduring appeal — and the multitudes contained within Jewish identity — that both performances are beloved.
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The post How the late actor Topol turned Tevye into a Zionist appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
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Famed Amsterdam Concert Hall Cancels Hanukkah Concert Over Lead Singer’s Ties to Israeli Army
A view of the Concertgebouw building in Amsterdam, Netherlands on Aug. 26, 2024. Photo: Jakub Porzycki via Reuters Connect
The Concertgebouw in Amsterdam has canceled its annual Hanukkah concert because of the performance’s lead singer, Shai Abramson, and his ties to the Israeli military, the famed concert hall announced on Sunday.
Concertgebouw said it made the “difficult decision” to terminate its agreement with the Hanukkah Concert Foundation regarding the Dec. 14 event after organizers were unable to agree on an alternative lead singer for the performance, which will take place on the eve of the Jewish festival of Hanukkah.
“Making this decision was extremely difficult,” said Managing Director Simon Reinink in a released statement. “Only in very exceptional cases do we make an exception to our important principle of artistic freedom. To our great sadness, such an exception is now taking place. The planned performance of the chief cantor of the IDF [Israel Defense Forces] is contrary to our mission: to connect people with music.”
Abramson serves as the chief cantor for the IDF and has performed at Israeli military ceremonies. The Concertgebouw claimed in a statement on Sunday that Abramson “has an important role” in the IDF and “represents the IDF in official matters.” It described his as a “visible representative” of the Israeli military, which it described as “actively involved in a controversial war.”
The Hanukkah Concert Foundation called the decision a violation of religious freedom and said it will take legal action, according to the Dutch publication NL Times. The foundation also defended Abramson, saying in a released statement that he “is an independent musician and, like many Israeli citizens, a reservist.”
“His participation in national ceremonies does not make him a manager, spokesperson, or representative official of the Israeli military, despite repeated suggestions to the contrary by the Concertgebouw,” the foundation added. “We cannot and will not comply with a limitation on religious freedom and this isolating and polarizing action. The Concertgebouw is essentially asking: replace your religious leader. That is not their authority.” The foundation also stated that Concertgebouw’s decision furthers “the isolation in which the Jewish community feels it is being pushed in today’s climate.”
The concert hall in Amsterdam said it had been in discussions with the Hanukkah Concert Foundation since the summer about the upcoming performance and asked the foundation “several” times to replace Abramson with another singer, but the foundation refused. “Unfortunately, no other solution was found. The Concertgebouw was then forced to terminate the agreement with the foundation,” the venue explained on Sunday.
“The Concertgebouw understands the position of the foundation and that this issue is extremely sensitive for the foundation,” the concert hall said, adding that it “remains open to a different interpretation of the concert by the foundation. In a time of increasing antisemitism, we find it important to emphasize that Het Concertgebouw will always remain a place where the Jewish community is welcome.”
Zvi Aviner-Vapni, Israel’s ambassador to the Netherlands, called the cancellation of the Dec. 14 performance “shameful and appalling” in a post on X. He explained that military service is mandatory in Israel and that “by excluding an artist for his service, they betray their own stated mission to unite through music.”
“This hypocrisy and discrimination are not culture. It looks more like caving in to some hateful crowd,” he added, referring to pressure from anti-Israel groups to cancel the performance.
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She just wants to be a good person. But she’s overwhelmed by the state of the world
Dear Bintel,
Since my grandma passed away, I’ve been trying to honor her by paying more attention to Jewish ways of looking at the world. I have so much to reflect and repent on.
I just want to be a good person. But honestly, I’m miserable with all the stuff going on out there. I can’t relax. I don’t even feel human sometimes!
At the same time, I try to be all about love and care. I love people in my life so hard … and yet I’m struggling to accept the times we live in. I get upset when people don’t care about worldly issues, but then when I talk to others who are freaking out about things, I get so scared.
What should I do? Is it OK to tune things out?
Signed,
Worldly Worrier
Dear Worldly Worrier,
You are not alone, and your natural empathy, love and concern for others make you particularly vulnerable to the information overload we’re all experiencing these days. Many of us care deeply about the issues facing our communities, our country and our planet, and it can be upsetting when others seem oblivious or disagree with our point of view.
At the same time, we yearn to tune it all out, because, like you say, it’s scary and overwhelming, and it’s easy to feel helpless and anxious in the face of it all.
I love that you want to honor your Jewish grandma (and condolences on your loss). Yom Kippur, which recently passed, is, of course, the day in the Jewish calendar dedicated to repentance and reflection. But many other holidays — including Shabbat, every week, and Hanukkah, just two months away — are celebratory. It seems to me that the way out of your particular funk is to focus less on soul-searching and more on finding joy.
Yes, it’s OK to tune everything out, or at least limit the incoming as much as you can. Give yourself digital blackouts on a regular basis: Silence or turn off your phone every day, whether for an hour or a few hours, depending on your job and your personal life. When you’re ready for bed, leave the phone in a different room so you’re not tempted to doomscroll before sleep or when you wake up.
Go for a walk, leave the phone home, and see how many things you can find that make you smile. My mom was famous for finding small but beautiful details in the most distressed urban environments: She’d notice a flower fighting its way up through a crack on a bleak sidewalk, or a tiny sparrow singing its heart out in a bare city tree. I try to channel her perspective as I navigate the world, taking particular joy this time of year in a pumpkin on a doorstep, mums on a windowsill or a tree turning red and gold.
You might also look for small ways to practice tikkun olam, which means repairing the world through charity or good deeds. Keep a few $1 bills in your pocket to give away when you see folks in need. When you’re grocery shopping, buy extra packaged goods that you can donate to a local food pantry. Even picking up a piece of litter as you walk down the street counts. Be kind to the people you interact with. Give compliments and friendly greetings. Try not to judge others.
You can’t fix this broken world alone. But you can take care of yourself, make a small difference with the choices you make every day, tune out the chaos and look for joy anywhere you can find it.
Signed,
Bintel
What do you think? Send your comments to bintel@forward.com or send in a question of your own. And don’t miss a Bintel: Sign up for our Bintel Brief newsletter.
The post She just wants to be a good person. But she’s overwhelmed by the state of the world appeared first on The Forward.
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Bishop Apologizes for Catholic School’s Offensive Halloween Float With Nazi Imagery
A drone view of the “Arbeit macht frei” gate at the former Auschwitz concentration camp ahead of the 80th anniversary of its liberation, Oswiecim, Poland, Jan. 10, 2025. Photo: REUTERS/Kacper Pempel
A Catholic diocese in Pennsylvania condemned and apologized for Holocaust imagery appearing on a Halloween parade float that was presented by St. Joseph Catholic School in Hanover, Pennsylvania.
Bishop Timothy C. Senior of the Diocese of Harrisburg released a statement on Friday, a day after the float was featured in the town’s Halloween parade. He said he was “shocked and appalled” that the float included a replica of the gate at the entrance of the infamous Auschwitz concentration camp that features the words “Arbeit Macht Frei,” a German phrase that translates to “Work Makes You Free.” He added that the original, approved design for the float did not include the Holocaust reference.
“The inclusion of this image — one that represents the horrific suffering and murder of millions of innocent people, including six million Jews during the Holocaust — is profoundly offensive and unacceptable,” he said. “On behalf of the Diocese of Harrisburg, I express my sincere apology to our Jewish brothers and sisters and to all who were hurt or offended by this display. I strongly condemn the inclusion of this symbol on the float. As Catholics, we stand firmly against all forms of antisemitism, hatred, and prejudice, which are rampant in our society. The Church’s relationship with the Jewish community is one of deep respect, friendship, and shared faith in the one true God.”
Senior said he will work with the school community to “ensure that this incident becomes an opportunity for education and reflection,” and review the approval processes to prevent “such a grievous incident” from happening in the future. He also vowed to work with the Pennsylvania Jewish Coalition and the Anti-Defamation League to help educate the local school community about the horrors that Jews suffered during the Holocaust and antisemitism in the world today.
Several Jewish groups have also criticized the Halloween float, including StandWithUs, which said that the “egregious display of antisemitic hate” represents “a shocking and dangerous level of ignorance, moral failure, or malice on the part of the individuals responsible.”
“These acts, intentional or not, contribute to fear and anxiety among Jewish individuals and all who understand the devastating history those symbols represent,” said The York JCC, the Jewish Federation of Greater Philadelphia, and the Jewish Federation of Harrisburg in a joint statement. “We appreciate Bishop Senior’s acknowledgment of the harm caused and his apology on behalf of the Diocese. Recognizing the impact of such imagery is an important step toward understanding, healing, and ensuring that incidents like this do not happen again.”
Auschwitz, located in Poland, was the Nazis’ largest death camp, where 1 million Jews were murdered during World War II.