Each year, like in many synagogues around the country, our congregants perform a Purim Shpiel, a humorous play that reenacts the Purim story from the Book of Esther. To create a parody, we usually meld the show with a current blockbuster Broadway musical or some outlandish theme.

In previous years, we used High School Musical, Barbie and Hamilton, to name a few. Last year, we chose a disco theme. This year, it’s Wicked.

I’ve determined that our shpiel is more than a comedy. It’s also a dramedy. As with most community theatre stage productions, not everything runs smoothly and it is always a challenge to be ready in time. Oh, the drama that ensues!

For the past couple of years, I have served as director. That means I cast the production, coordinate and lead all rehearsals, work with our tech team of one, collaborate with the two musical directors, procure props, become the stagehand, coordinate with synagogue staff — and more. It has often proven to be more labor intensive than some paid jobs I’ve held!

You must be asking yourself: “Why did she agree to take this on?” The answer is that I felt sorry for our synagogue staff, who didn’t know whom to ask. When they asked me, I knew I could do it; I did have a little theatre experience. I couldn’t say no.

I usually start the Purim Shpiel process over the summer. That’s when I start writing a script. We begin planning right after the Jewish High Holidays. We meet to talk about the script, make any revisions and then start rehearsals. Purim, for me, lasts over half a year!

I don’t do any real casting because we usually have the same group of people who volunteer to participate every year – including a select few who know exactly where their talents lie. Acquiring any other help requires a lot of begging and pleading. Last year, I snagged someone to be in the ensemble as she was walking past our rehearsal! I snagged a few other ensemble members as well because they are my friends and couldn’t refuse me.

Thank goodness it’s a shpiel. Mistakes can be funny and, whatever happens, happens! Our actors hold their scripts during the performance. We aren’t a professional production! We’ve changed and added to our script so many times that we reprint it repeatedly before achieving a final copy for the big performance. “Don’t use an old version of the script,” I tell the cast, “or you’ll be lost!”

Our actors create their own costumes and the scenery is reduced to one inexpensive background mural, bought off Amazon.

The closer we get to the date of the performance, the more the pressure intensifies. One year, when we went to retrieve the costumes (which we kept in storage), we discovered they were destroyed somehow — and unusable. That same year, our maintenance crew (we no longer use them) assembled and set up the stage in the wrong place, so I had to find heavy lifters who could help move it. (A belated thank you to my husband and children!)

Since we have no understudies, sometimes it feels like we have no pull cord if our parachute doesn’t inflate! We have no emergency back-up system.

“Lights, camera, action!” The show must go on, especially if you are livestreaming as we’ve been doing since COVID 19. Someone missed a line? Oh well. The audience won’t know anyway!

“Cue the music!” That would be our music teacher, who accompanies our singers on the piano. There’s nothing like live music. She can play just about anything unless we need Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony. Then we’d have a problem.

“Round up the children! It’s time for the costume parade.” Sorry if your toddler wandered off. “Check over by the dessert table.”

“Dancers. I need dancers!” I exclaimed last year for the disco-themed show. I found one adult who said she would come dance in the audience. But she called me the day before the performance to tell me she was sick. Luckily, my child’s teenaged dance friends appeared moments before the start of the show. Hallelujah, we had more frivolity and revelry!

Nerves run high and tempers run short, but the shpiel gets performed. Audiences applaud. People are happy, as they should be on this joyous holiday. Family and friends tell me that I did a good job. I wish I could say that people talk about the shpiel for months afterward, but usually once we get to the dessert table to have hamantaschen (the holiday’s traditional bakery choice), everyone has moved on. But they’re in a jovial mood! Could it be the drinking (which we are commanded to do on Purim)?

Last year our Purim program (a.k.a. the shpiel) was voted the second best in our area. I don’t know who came in first, but our synagogue program director used these bragging rights for the remainder of the year!

But if you happen to look over at the director at the end of a shpiel, you will see that, totally exhausted, she’s barely sitting upright — and that smile on her face is really painted on. She’s thinking about how many months until the start of the next production!

But, like Queen Esther, or Hadassah as she was also known, we will persevere and, hopefully, have a positive impact on our Jewish communities.

Chag Purim Sameach! Happy Purim, everyone!

© The Times of Israel (Blogs)