The Green Violinist
by Marc Chagall

 

    “A fiddler on the roof. It sounds crazy, no?” asks the poor Jewish milkman. “In our little village of Anatevka you might say every one of us is a fiddler on a roof. Trying to scratch out a pleasant simple tune without breaking his neck. It isn’t easy. You may ask why do we stay up here if it is so dangerous? We stay because Anatevka is our home. And how do we keep our balance. That I can tell you in one word. Tradition!”

    So begins the famous opening lines of Fiddler on the Roof, one of the longest-running Broadway musicals and an award-winning movie. No doubt many of us have seen it live on stage here in St. Louis, for it has come to The Muny eight times (1970, 73, 76, 82, 87, 93, 98, and 03). It certainly is a delight to see, combining enchanting music with universal themes and memorable characters.

    Fiddler on the Roof is loosely based on a novel called Tevye the Milkman, written by Yiddish author Sholem Aleichem and published in 1894. At the time of its publication and in roughly the same area of the world, another Jewish Russian was experiencing life in similar fashion to the fictional characters of Anatevka. The boy’s name was Moishe Shagal, but the world knows him best as Marc Chagall.
    Chagall would go on to become one of the best-known painters of the 20th century, traveling all over the world and having his paintings displayed in museums worldwide. But even though Chagall moved away from his hometown of Vitebsk, the town remained a part of his memory and came into his paintings again and again.

    The Green Violinist is one such painting by Chagall. It is a merry celebration of the tension between change and continuity, or the material and spiritual elements of our lives. Chagall painted this in 1923-1924, thirty years after Aleichem’s novel and forty years before the Broadway production of Fiddler (which took Chagall’s painting as inspiration for the title of the musical).

    The painting itself is enjoyable. Set against a bland backdrop of grey, brown, and black, a geometrically-inspired man in vibrant secondary colors (purple, orange, and green) plays a violin while standing on top of two houses. Or perhaps he is floating above them even like the man at the top is floating like a kite? At any rate, the man is green – really green! One hand is bare and the other is gloved. And check out that purple coat with triangle patterns! Take a look at the rectangular-shapes making up his pants.

    Don’t stop there. Find the dog on the left. Is he friendly or mean? And what is the deal with the ladder resting against a tree without even a single leaf? Is someone trying to get to the bird in the tree, or did the bird need to use the ladder itself?

    Like I said, this is an enjoyable painting. But it is meant for more than comedic pleasure, for it is intended to make us reflect on the transitory and changing nature of the world in which we live. How should we respond to change and how should we relate to the past?
    Imagine the historical changes that took place in Chagall’s hometown of Vitebsk. When Chagall was born, the town was under Tsarist rule. The Communist revolution brought political change and much turmoil. The Nazis took over the town for over three years, during which time 150,000 Jews died. Then, the Soviet Union took over the area and ruled until 1991.  Now the city is part of the nation of Belarus.

    How does one move forward into the future while not losing the essential character of who they are?

    In Jewish villages, the fiddler would come out and play at births, weddings, deaths – all transforming events that cause us to reflect on the past, present, and future.

    Regarding tradition, Fiddler’s Tevye says, “You may ask, ‘How did this tradition get started?’ I’ll tell you!  I don’t know. But it’s a tradition... and because of our traditions... Every one of us knows who he is and what God expects him to do.”

    There is real tension between the forces that pull us forward and those that keep us in the past. However, even the phrase “keep us in the past” is a phrase that seems either negative or positive depending on your perspective. In the modern times we live in, being “kept in the past” would seem to be a negative thing in light of the promised land of potentiality and change and transformation.

    However, with the wanderlust for change comes certain rootlessness, a spiritually homeless condition wherein we have no historical landmarks to mark the land and no North Star to direct our course. Without a guide, how are we to survive if the future does not deliver on the promises? What if the future is empty in soul and spirit? With nothing behind us or under us, our only recourse will be to keep going forward in search of ‘new truth’ and ‘new paths’.

    Chagall said, “Changes in societal structure and in art would possess more credibility if they had their origins in the soul and spirit. If people read the words of the prophets with closer attention, they would find the keys to life.”

    Chagall’s fiddler is a modern Moses, commanding the people to remember the past even as they experience the change of the present and the promise of the future. Moses said, “Remember! lest the promised grace of Canaan turns into a nightmare of godlessness. And when the LORD your God brings you into the land that He swore to your fathers, to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob, to give you- with great and good cities that you did not build, and houses full of all good things that you did not fill, and cisterns that you did not dig, and vineyards and olive trees that you did not plant- and when you eat and are full, then take care lest you forget the LORD, who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of slavery.” (Deuteronomy 6:10-12)

    The fiddler stands for joyful tradition, even while playing out to people leaving the village (horse and cart at top right) and finding freedom elsewhere (man floating off the page at top). The drumbeat of change will not stay outside of this man’s town, and yet the dog reminds us of fidelity to some part of the past. The ladder is at once both bound and free, one end on the ground and the other in the air. The tree itself is barren, but the bird in the branch reminds us of Chagall’s use of birds as a symbol of freedom.

    And the fiddler himself is standing on and above the bedrock institutions of his village – home and synagogue. He is larger-than-life and yet his feet are still connected to things of the earth. This man is neither ascetic nor monastic. He is both “in this world” and “not of this world.”

    Is this a lament over the death of tradition and the anxiety of change? No, the man’s greenishness, while possibly meaning various things like envy or greed, is best understood as a symbol of life and living. This is in keeping with other of Chagall’s works where he celebrates the theme of life with living plants, flowers, and other botanical elements. This fiddler, central to “the tradition” of the village is also alive and well even in the midst of the fast-paced changes all around him. And the purple speaks of stable passion, emotional exuberance under control of the mind. Excited about the future even while retaining memory of the past.

    Not that this tension is easy to manage. Not all fiddlers find joy in grabbing the hand of both tradition and change. Hence, the small-man (lesser importance and lesser quality of character) who holds his fiddle like a club instead of as an instrument.

    The material world does not deliver all it promises. Trees withhold fruit. Houses are shabby. Friends leave for distant places and even death. Change is real.

    But there is something from the past that can guide us and give us direction in the future. This something is both inside and outside our reality. The bridge from past, to present, to future is found in God as seen in His Son Jesus Christ - “I am the Alpha and the Omega, the First and the Last, the Beginning and the End” (Revelation 22:13). God is eternal and timeless, and as He enters time in providence, He always accomplishes His will: “I declare the end from the beginning, and from long ago what is not yet done, saying: My plan will take place, and I will do all My will.” (Isaiah 46:10)

    Perhaps the meaning of The Green Violinist can be understood in light of Ecclesiastes 3:11-12, “He has made everything appropriate in its time. He has also put eternity in their hearts, but man cannot discover the work God has done from beginning to end. I know that there is nothing better for them than to rejoice and enjoy the good life.” Perhaps Chagall is saying that it is up to individuals to live larger than life by finding color and joy in remembrance of the past, even as the call of the future beckons.

    This is a study in the tension between letting go and hanging on. Which are you more inclined to do? Have you found balance on the roof? Is Jesus Christ the man from the past who is in your present and Who you are placing all your hope on for your future?

 

 W. Scott Lamb is a pastor with Providence Baptist Church in South St. Louis County, MO. He and his wife Pearl enjoy the challenges and pleasures of raising their four sons. Feel free to contact Scott at www.truthinartblog.com.