c. 2005 Religion News Service

JERUSALEM _ “Welcome to Glatt Kosher Airways,” says the tall, dark-haired female comedian, standing in a corner of an intimate Jerusalem cafe. “Our pilot and co-pilot will be taking time to pray Mincha and Ma’ariv,” the afternoon and evening prayers. “You’re asked to pray with extra devotion at this time since no one will be flying the airplane.

“If any of you has a religious question, we have a rabbi sitting in first class. You’re free to consult her,” continues the comedian, placing the emphasis on the word “her.”

The audience members _ all women, mostly Orthodox Jews dressed in fashionable hats and long skirts out of religious modesty _ break into appreciative laughter at the absurd notion of a female rabbi.

As the number of strictly observant Jews _ known as “haredim” in Hebrew _ has grown both in Israel and abroad, so, too, has the demand for performances by women for women.

Haredim follow the most stringent form of “halacha” _ Jewish law _ as interpreted by their rabbis. A large percentage shun TV, films, secular newspapers and the Internet. And they maintain a physical separation between the sexes while attending synagogue, a lecture, weddings or even a funeral.

The all-female comedy routine is no exception.

Aliza Levine, a political scientist at Bar Ilan University, attributes the growing popularity of these events largely to a surge in the number of fervently religious women going into the workplace, “where they hear about things from the outside world.”

In Israel, which has slashed financial support for large families, “more religious women have had to enter the work force to enable their husbands to continue to learn full-time in yeshiva (religious seminaries),” Levine said.

“It is the women who have been the agent for change in `haredi’ society.”

Haredi men do not attend vocal performances by women, due to the prohibition of “Kol Isha,” listening to a woman’s singing voice, a ban derived from ancient rabbinic writings in the Talmud that liken a woman’s voice to “nakedness.”

Even non-vocal performances by women are considered immodest and therefore off-limits to men, though this is based more on social, not legal, norms.

Phil Chernofsky, the educational director of the Israel Center, a Jerusalem-based Orthodox learning center that offers many events for women only, believes that all-female performances “fill a niche” in the lives of Orthodox women.

“There are religious women who would love to perform but because of Kol Isha restrictions can’t perform in front of a mixed male-female audience. On the other side there are some women who won’t go to a performance by men because there is mixed seating. They really appreciate a women’s-only concert where they feel comfortable getting up and dancing,” Chernofsky says.

Yona Yakovitch, a self-described “rock chick,” had both groups in mind when she founded the all-women’s band Tofa’ah back in 1981. At the time, she says, there were very few performances that Orthodox women could attend, and these were presented by amateurs.

An accomplished drummer, Yakovitch “felt the need” to find professionally trained female performers “who lacked the opportunity to share their talents.”

Twenty-four years later, Tofa’ah packs concert halls with religious, and even some non-religious, women. The band’s repertoire includes rock, jazz, blues and folk, as well as more traditionally Jewish klezmer music.

Unlike Yakovitch, who comes from a religious home, Mindy Fuhrer, the band’s lead vocalist, had a secular upbringing and performed to mixed audiences in the United States before becoming Orthodox in 1985.

“At first I felt a bit restricted,” Fuhrer says of the transition to women’s performances, “but when I began to play for women only I saw the openness between the players and the audience. Women took us for what we were. There was no sexual innuendo. We related on a higher, purer level. It was very spiritual.”

The fact that no men are present allows the group members to “let loose,” Yakovitch adds. “We can talk about things that pertain to women as mothers, daughters and sisters. We can talk about dating, diaper changing or Rosh Hodesh,” Yakovitch says of monthly, communal, women-only study sessions. “Our concerts are a place to celebrate the spirituality that is uniquely feminine.”

The founders of Raise Your Spirit, an all-women’s theater company in the West Bank, use similar language when describing their performances before all-female audiences. “I think there’s a special magic when women perform for women,” said Sharon Katz, a co-founder. “There’s a bond that transcends the stage.”

Katz stresses that the company was launched at the height of the Palestinian uprising four years ago, “not for the sake of performing but because people in our community were suffering from Arab terror. We have spent the past four years trying to be brave. Our performances give every woman in the audience the chance to cry and to laugh and at the end, to smile.”

The troupe donates its proceeds to families in distress, including those who have been touched by terror. In the event of an attack, rehearsals and performances go on as scheduled, but not before the cast members recite Psalms.

Katz recalled how one cast member, Cheryl Mandel, became a role model for the others when her son Daniel, an officer in the Israeli army, was killed in action just before Passover.

“She was never bitter,” Katz recalls. “She just said that she understood the great sacrifice every Israeli mother makes when she sends her son to the army. Her strength strengthened all of us.”

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The fact that so many people in her audiences have been personally touched by tragedy gives Ayelet Ben Hur _ “like in the movie,” she said _ the “Kosher Komic,” an added incentive to make them laugh.

Ben Hur moved to Jerusalem almost three years ago. She gave up a promising acting and stand-up career to help her live an Orthodox lifestyle. “I realized that show business wasn’t for me anymore in the conventional sense,” Ben Hur said after a cafe performance. “There was sex and violence and the messages being sent out weren’t positive ones.”

Ben Hur, whose fast-paced speech and Seinfeld-like mannerisms broadcast her New York roots, used to perform before mixed audiences in clubs and bars all around the United States.

Today she wouldn’t dream of performing before such a crowd, despite her own modest appearance in an ankle-length skirt and sweater extending above her collarbone and down to her wrists. “Men shouldn’t concentrate on anyone other than their wives,” she insists.

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Because her audience members are religious Jewish women whose lives are based on the Torah, Ben Hur draws on Jewish texts _ and the rich tradition of Jewish humor _ for many of her punch lines.

“God was the first comedian. Look at Sarah, Abraham’s wife. She laughed when God told her she would have a child at the age of 90. As a woman, wouldn’t you laugh at news like this?”

Having seen life from both sides of the religious fence, Ben Hur said she and her Orthodox sisters “are normal, red-blooded women, outwardly modest but with an inner fire that we show only in closed settings.”

“My fire is still there,” Ben Hur says, suddenly serious. “I simply don’t have to display it in mixed company.”

KRE/PH END CHABIN