Festival of Lights Alive
a holiday ditty written and performed by Brian Lobel

Created for Naughty or Vice, a holiday monologue show at Around the Coyote, Chicago.

 

In every young Jew's life, there comes a time when he or she must decide whether to be a part of the Christmas Spectacular or the Hanukkah Spectacular at their elementary school.  Mrs. Guyon's forthcoming 4 th grade choral concert became that time for this particular young Jew. 

Mrs. Guyon was a large woman – large hair, full build, oversized sequins on her sweaters and purses, but most importantly, unapologetically gargantuan in her ideas for her young choral students.  The Holiday Spectacular would be a Spectacle the likes of which Hamagrael Elementary School had not seen since multiculturalism became key and inclusiveness of Jews and other such loose cannons became the status quo.  While Ms. Dale, Mr. Post and other musical giants at our school had scaled back the holiday concert in deference to diversity, Mrs. Guyon remained undeterred.  She would have her Holiday Spectacular and it would be big and bright and sunny and inclusive and would let the people know that the holidays and her personal grandeur could be appreciated by every boy and girl. 

Then she began to play us the songs we could choose to sing and I instantaneously understood her plan.  The Holiday Spectacular was, essentially, a 45 minute Christmas show with 10 minutes of Judaism stuck at the end – like a tacky home addition.  Grating.  Embarrassing.  And there was no way I would be a part of that unnecessary Judaism. 

Three justifications for me not participating in the Festival of Lights Performance in the Holiday Spectacular. One - that I was mature beyond my years and knew that tokenism in elementary education was ultimately more dangerous than simple exclusion.  Justification number two - a logistical justification:  Because the Mr. Santa Bring Us Some Toys was the last Christmas number before the Hanukkah numbers, there was no way I'd be able to change from red and green to all black with blue and white streamers affixed to the wrists in the allotted 2 minutes.

But a third justification, a more gay justification:  Mr. Santa Bring Us Some Toys was a parody of Mr. Sandman , and I had recently seen the Golden Girls episode in which the Blanche and Rose sing "Oh Mr. Sandman" and Dorothy replies, "Yes?" and as a devotee of Ms. Arthur's, I was hoping that by signing up for the number, I would be cast as the voice of Santa against the sea of primly dressed Doo-Wop Girls.  Unfortunately, as Steve Kidera was cast as Santa for the entire evening, I was one of the primly dressed Doo-Wop Girls, never changed in the program to be Doo-Wop Girls and Boys, as Mrs. Guyon had promised.

But we sang. Sang our hearts out gaily.  Inspired by the Holiday spirit and universal love for Christmas.  Oh Mr. Santa .  Yes? Bring us some toys.  Make sure there's presents for all girls and boys.  And Christmas night, we go to sleep singing, and dream about the presents you'll be bringing.  Santa?  Yes.  Hmmm .  

And then it came, from the back of the auditorium, swirling – with blue and white ribbons.  From the happy, harmonious, Western sounds of Christmas classics and parodies to the minor sounds of Judaism, of observance, of holidays that were really about the destruction of Temples and not about the birth of messiahs, slithering down the aisles like a plague of political correctness, like a venereal disease of multicultural sensitivity… Festival of Lights alive, Season of Joyous Celebration, Shining Jubilation, in song and in dance the story's told.  Freedom from the darkness, freedom for the people, festival of lights alive. Festival of Lights alive.  Festival of Lights ALIVE!

There was something inside of me, even at the unconscientized age of 9 screaming "Tokenism!  Tokenism!  Tokenism!"  This was not the song of my Hanukkah – of my Judaism. This song felt like a song written for Jews to sing for 10 minutes during elementary schools Christmas shows.  We didn't sing about what Hanukkah meant, we sung about what Hanukkah was.  We generally sung in Hebrew and even though we didn't know what it meant, we knew that it was meaningful.  Sivivon, sov sov sov, Hanukkah uh ah tov.  Hanukkah , uh ah tov, sivivon – sov sov sov.  There aren't that many, and they are not very pretty, but they were our songs.  I can always tell a Hanukkah song that was written after Christmas became commercial.  They were songs meant to compete, to insert, to squeeze Jews awkwardly into the mainstream Holiday season. 

And the thing was – I loved not having a big imposing holiday to celebrate.  I loved that we had eight diffused nights where nothing much had to happen.  We could turn off the lights , light a menorah, eat a latke and then go back to watching one of the bazillion Christmas movies that were undoubtedly playing on tv.  And we got presents, but it wasn't that big of a deal.  I more enjoyed that I spent my holiday shopping buying candy and shit from Spencer's Gifts for girls that I thought I had crushes on, and boys that I probably actually did.

After elementary school, I made the choice to sing Hanukkah songs at school without biting my tongue too much.  I grew to find it almost quaint that people wanted to impress Jews and to ingratiate themselves into our circles.  They also probably knew that since we owned the ACLU, we would gladly sue the pants off anyone just because we're that fucking money hungry.  So I sang without excessive complaint I am a latke, I am a latke, and I am waiting for Hanukkah to come…I am a latke, I am a latke, and I am waiting for Hanukkah to come – until he came along.  Adam Fucking Sandler. 

Put on your yarmulke, it's time to celebrate Hanukkah . I have never wanted to be less Jewish in my life.  It, he, was everywhere.  Quirky, sexy, together, Jewish, big nosed, not too big nosed, successful and singing about Hanukkah , a song that was both horrifying and terribly beguiling.  I remember the Sunday school immediately following that Saturday Night Live episode.  "Did you hear?"  "He's a hero – like Stan Lee or Sandy Koufax" "Put on your yarmulke!"   I was assured that the excitement I witnessed by my youth group cohort at Temple Israel would die down after the weekend, and the world would continue rotating on its exclusionary axis.  I was wrong.  Mrs. Hines had brought the words into Choir and we were to sing it from memory.  Everyone already knew it by heart!  "Drink your gin and tonica but don't smoke marijuanica…" 

Adam Sandler was trying to make Judaism kitschy, which was unnecessary because Jews invented kitsch!  Whether I liked it or not, here we were – thrust in from the margins.  Talked about on the high school morning announcements. On the radio. Released as a single. We now had our Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer, our Scrooged, our Mr. Hanky the Christmas Poo.  People were laughing with us about our holiday – and I felt so, unspecial.  We needed to start explaining ourselves, inviting others to come and light the menorah , and people wanted to include us in their holiday celebrations not just as tokens, but as equals.  I don't want to be equals with a holiday which boasts the highest suicide rates and debt increases.  I don't want for our family to have to be fucked up on Hanukkah , we already have Passover, Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur for that. 

I yearned for a quieter time, a time when we were just included because people thought it was bad to leave us out.  A time when Hanukkah songs were written by the same elementary ed music professionals who transcribed Native American chants and African folk songs.  It was actually kind of nice, kind of quaint - all those streamers.  Festival of lights alive.  Festival of lights alive.  Festival of lights ALIVE!