Exactly 30 years ago last Sunday, I was privileged to do something I had always wanted to do, but never thought I would have the opportunity.

That night, I stepped into a spotlight, looked out at an audience, uttered Tevye the milkman’s opening line: “A fiddler on the roof. Sounds crazy, no? But in our little village of Anatevka, you might say everyone is a Fiddler on the Roof.”

I was reminded of this anniversary by the Pages of the Past feature of a paper I used to write for, and for a couple of days, I listened to “If I were a rich man” many times on my inner sound system.

I imagine many, if not most, of you are familiar with the story of Tevye’s Russian Jewish family. It’s a pleasant story, but has a dark side, because their lives are disrupted by political unrest, religious differences, and bigotry, and in the end, they are refugees bound for America.

As a story about Jews, the play doesn’t have much to do with Christmas. Even so, the story seems relevant for Christmas 2015, because there are some parallels between today’s events and those Tevye’s village experienced more than a century ago.

Take Tevye’s famous discussion with God about his economic status, for example. People who lost their jobs during the recession and have had to accept lower pay in new jobs may well be wishing they were rich. The inequality apparent in a brief encounter between the rich butcher and the village beggar is a concern now expressed as the shrinking of the middle class. And Tevye’s choice between giving his daughter financial security by marrying her off to the rich baker and allowing her to marry the poor man she loves is like the hard choices today’s parents and children have to make when deciding on a college.

Life in Anatevka is shaped by ethnic and religious bigotry. The Russians have nothing but disdain for the Jews, and the feeling is mutual. Tevye and his friends both fear and hate the Russians in their midst, and try not to associate with them. When one of his daughters falls in love with a Russian and marries him, Tevye declares her dead. His bigotry is natural, because the Russian people and their church have persecuted Jews as happens in the play when Russian thugs, led by the town’s constable, invade a wedding, destroying property and inflicting injury.

Today, terrorism by radical Muslims has led to bigotry toward all Muslims, even those who are citizens. Presidential candidates want to ban refugees from Syria, and some want no Muslims at all admitted. Others want the government to monitor all mosques and to keep close watch on all Muslims.

Some Americans go even further, calling for Muslims to be deported, just as the tsar orders the people of Anatevka to leave their homes, and there have been acts of terror directed at Islamic targets.

At the beginning of the story, Tevye cites tradition as the reason the villagers can keep their balance in a world full of troubles, but his world is changing, making it harder to hold on to those traditions. In fact, he finds himself having to break tradition in response to new ideas, political upheavals and religious persecution.  

We Americans come from many traditions, and are held together by a tradition of freedom and individual rights, but in response to current conditions, some are ready to limit the freedoms of others, even in violation of the Constitution.

The analogy I have presented is not perfect — no analogy ever is — but it demonstrates that we, like Tevye, are similar to that metaphorical violin player. We are all attempting to play music while standing precariously on an inclined platform covered with slippery shingles, and hoping that nothing comes along to upset our balance.

The play ends on a positive, if not very cheerful, note. Tevye’s family has to leave Anatevka, but the fiddler follows, still playing a pleasant note that tells us that despite the catastrophes that have divided their family and driven them from their homes, they will regain their balance and once again play a pleasant tune.

What I need now, is a positive note to end this somewhat gloomy column, and as you probably would guess, Christmas is going to provide that positive note, and not just because of my Christian faith. To Christians, the holiday season celebrates the coming of hope for a new life.  

But before there were Christians, there was, at least in the northern hemisphere, the winter solstice, the day when the sun stops sinking lower in its daily trip across the sky and begins to climb, and the dark hours of the day begin to grow shorter. That event told the people that the world wasn’t dying, but was coming back to life — and that, naturally, was something to rejoice about.

We sing a lot during this season. We sing about the birth of Jesus and the message of peace and good will he represents. We sing about the beauty of the season. We sing about having a good time with friends and family. There are, of course, some gloomy songs about the season, but they are vastly outnumbered by the positive tunes.

Let’s hope that all that singing means things will be all right during the coming years.

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In my last column, I did presidential candidate Rand Paul a disservice when I indicated that he believes Muslims require more government surveillance.  What he actually said was, people we think are risks should be watched, but he said “absolutely not” to suggestions that mosques should be targeted or a database of all Muslims should be maintained.  I regret my error, and thanks to CJ Baker for pointing it out.