The Economics of Sex

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Oy, Tevye

"Dear God, you made many, many poor people.

I realize, of course, that it's no shame to be poor.
But it's no great honor either!
So, what would have been so terrible if I had a small fortune?"

I love Tevye. I’m not ashamed to admit it. Even as a young boy I felt an instant connection to the poor Milkman of Anatevka. He, struggling to provide for his family amidst the strife and poverty of feudal Russia; his wife, Golda, always on the prowl to make a “good match” for their five daughters; and the girls, just on the cusp of womanhood; each facing challenges they never imagined.

And like that “Fiddler on the Roof”, Tevye is forever swaying back and forth between his innate wisdom, the desire to bring joy to his daughter’s lives and the overarching traditions which have preserved his people for millennia.

The movie (and I presume the play) has a fine comedic interlude with the song If I Were a Rich Man. Tevye begins by fantasizing about all the things he would do with his small fortune and inexorably progresses to one of his heart’s fondest dreams, to have the time with which to improve his knowledge of the Torah and discuss it with the learned men. Our hero is deeply devoted to God in a way that allows him to talk to the Supreme Being as if to a friend. And is that not a beautiful relationship to have?

In the cinematic version, his song ends by asking God in a powerful and searching plea, “Would it spoil some vast eternal plan if I were a wealthy man?” My answer to him is, “Yes Tevye. Being who you are right now, it most certainly would spoil at least a small part of that vast Eternal plan.” Let us examine his words carefully and see why.

If I were a rich man,
Ya ha deedle deedle, bubba bubba deedle deedle dum.
All day long I'd biddy biddy bum.

If I were a wealthy man.

I wouldn't have to work hard.
Ya ha deedle deedle, bubba bubba deedle deedle dum.
If I were a biddy biddy rich,
Yidle-diddle-didle-didle man.

I cannot say where, and perhaps my Jewish friends could help me, but somewhere I came to understand that the words biddy biddy bum are a reference to prayer in general or a specific type of prayer. I will work off of that premise.

So Tevye, if you were rich you would pray all day long? Prayer is a wonderful thing but don’t you pray all day already? Talking to God and discussing the issues of the day? And did not God place us here to work? Was not one of His first commands to Adam, one never revoked, to take command and stewardship of the earth and work it? Was not the “curse” placed upon Adam that, “by the sweat of your face shalt thou eat bread”?

Though I am sure you did not mean it, to think that God would smile upon you for trying to avoid His word through your wealth is dangerous at best.

I'd build a big tall house with rooms by the dozen,
Right in the middle of the town.
A fine tin roof with real wooden floors below.
There would be one long staircase just going up,
And one even longer coming down,
And one more leading nowhere, just for show.

Tevye my friend, you have big dreams. “A big tall house with rooms by the dozen”? Do you really need that? True you have five daughters and each could use their own room and another private space beside. Then dining and storage rooms; a sitting room; library; closets; workshops…but even with all that I can only see 20 rooms at best. Yea, that’s almost two dozen but it isn’t “by the dozen”. You are a good, honest, hard-working man who understands the evil of waste. Would you really want to start wasting money and space for a house that is so far beyond your needs? Unless…

I'd fill my yard with chicks and turkeys and geese and ducks
For the town to see and hear.
And each loud "cheep" and "swaqwk" and "honk" and "quack"
Would land like a trumpet on the ear,
As if to say "Here lives a wealthy man."

Oy veh Tevye! I am astounded and perplexed that you, of all people, would be so afflicted with the sin of Pride. Would you do all this just for the benefit of gaining the envy of the townsfolk? Aren’t you respected and honored by your friends already?  Would you rather be hated than loved? The people will rather mark you for your raised nose than anything. They will no longer wish you “Good Sabbath” for the joy in their hearts at your appearance but they will say the words for fear of what you could do to them or to gain favor in pursuit of their own ends. It plants a tiny but hateful lie in the ear, and in the guise of a blessing, thus doubly cursed.

If I were a rich man,
Ya ha deedle deedle, bubba bubba deedle deedle dum.
All day long I'd biddy biddy bum.
If I were a wealthy man.
I wouldn't have to work hard.
Ya ha deedle deedle, bubba bubba deedle deedle dum.
If I were a biddy biddy rich,
Yidle-diddle-didle-didle man.

I see my wife, my Golde, looking like a rich man's wife
With a proper double-chin.
Supervising meals to her heart's delight.
I see her putting on airs and strutting like a peacock.
Oy, what a happy mood she's in.
Screaming at the servants, day and night.

Oh now this is too much. Golda is a headstrong woman who wishes to have her hand in every decision. If you came into money and she had the freedom to give rein to her tendencies, she would become an angry, haughty and domineering shrew! Is that the fate you desire for her? God forbid it! To become like Lazar Wolf’s first wife Fruma-Sarah? Oh but she was a bitter woman! Golda of all people needs the heavy restraining hand of poverty to keep her humble. Would it please God for Golda to be screaming at the servants day and night as you say? Would their lives be any happier then than yours is now? Would the wealth make you and your family better people? Repent of your fantasies Tevye, for Golda’s sake.

The most important men in town would come to fawn on me!
They would ask me to advise them,
Like a Solomon the Wise.
"If you please, Reb Tevye..."
"Pardon me, Reb Tevye..."
Posing problems that would cross a rabbi's eyes!
And it won't make one bit of difference if i answer right or wrong.
When you're rich, they think you really know!

And so we see the dangers of pride. How easily it creeps into our hearts and twists the good man’s soul. From a poor but honest man my hero Tevye has become callous and cold toward those who trust him the most. “…it won’t make one bit of difference if I answer right or wrong”? Really? People are coming to you for advice just as they would the Rabbi and it makes no difference to you whether your advice is good or not? What if they lose their livelihood? Their family? Their life? No Tevye, the giving of advice is a dangerous matter and one not to be entered into lightly. The tongue should be guarded at all times lest we lead our neighbor into temptation. How many friendships have been ruined by the ill-considered word? Put away this arrogance lest you follow that arch mocker Ha-Satan.

If I were rich, I'd have the time that I lack
To sit in the synagogue and pray.
And maybe have a seat by the Eastern wall.
And I'd discuss the holy books with the learned men, several hours every day.
That would be the sweetest thing of all.

Now at last we find the truth of your heart. My brother Tevye wishes most to learn. As the Mishnah says, "Whoever has no regard for the honor of his creator is worthy of not having come into the world." Of that Maimonides explains "the honor of his creator"…"This means whoever has no regard for his intellect, for the intellect is the glory of God.”

Yes, it would be sweet to spend much of the day studying the holy books. How thrilling it would be to peer into the minds of the most learned Rabbis of all time. If a rich man, and one with much time on his hands, then at least be a wise one who is pious before God and free of his substance toward those in need. Only then would riches be of any real use to you.

God would have us be good, loving, kind, generous, honorable, helpful, always striving to do better, eschewing evil, shunning temptations. The Christians say that it is harder for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter Heaven. Why take those burdens upon yourself Tevye, when today you are good and wise, yearning for that God who created you.

If I were a rich man,
Ya ha deedle deedle, bubba bubba deedle deedle dum.
All day long I'd biddy biddy bum.
If I were a wealthy man.
I wouldn't have to work hard.
Ya ha deedle deedle, bubba bubba deedle deedle dum.
If I were a biddy biddy rich,
Yidle-diddle-didle-didle man.

Playing Like A Man

My son Alexander is playing youth football this year. Although he has participated in basketball and flag football several times already, this is the first time he has had to face up to the rough, cruel world of tackle football.

For those of you not overly familiar with this American sport, the game exists seemingly for the brutal and terrifying purpose of seperating men's heads from their bodies. Despite helmets and padding, we are talking about athletes running at full speed into each other and trying to crush their opponants into the ground. The results can be painful and not just a little injurious.

So, cheerfully my Ex and I sent our eldest son into this meat grinder and said, "Have fun".

They played their sixth game last night and were crushed 38-0. This is a fitting bookend to the 53-6 spanking they got a month ago. The team is hard working but not nearly as large or talented as some of the others.

A wise man once said that parents feel the pain of a child's failure more deeply, more personally than the child himself. I was suffering humiliation for my boy. Their defeat was more than just a loss in the standings. They had been pushed around all evening far worse than the final score reflected. Memories of my own sports dreams, now dusty and fragile with age, mingled into nostalgic sympathy for my eldest. I thought of times I was mocked and derided by young men who were stronger or faster than me. I remembered being on the short end of some very lopsided scores. My heart yearned for Alex and wished that he would never feel the disappointment and yes shame of being overmanned in public. I hung my head, beaten in spirit.

When I looked up a few moments later to find my son, aching to hold him and comfort as only a loving Father can. To my surprise he was not with the rest of the team as slowly left the field in groups of two or three. No, my son was standing on the far side of the field, in the midst of the victorious Spartans, giving congratulations to the boy who had been his primary opponant the whole evening. From a hundred yards away I could imagine hearing Alex offer that boy praise for a job well done and meaning it truthfully.

As he strode across the field, all alone, I knew that Alex was in torment. He hates to lose worse than he hates Bonnet movies and eggs. No one else on his team made the traditional "good game" mutter to the Spartans. None of them tempted the fate of mockery by standing out from the crowd for good sportsmanship. But my boy did.

He left the field and clambored up the stands towards me. I noticed his eyes boring into my own, looking for that kindness and support that all boys need from their fathers. When he finally reached the top and stood before me, I took him into my arms and said, "I'm so proud of you son. You played well today. You did well!"

What I didn't tell him was, at that moment of truth when he could have sunk into the pit of misery and self-pity BUT DID NOT, that he was a better Man than I.

My son played football like a moderately talented guy who gives his all and is just plain overmatched. But in the game of Life, he showed that he has what it takes to be a Champion.