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In Cedarhurst, the Long Island hamlet a few miles southwest of
JFK Airport, the rumble of low-flying planes was audible inside the
Chofetz Chaim Torah Center, where Ayelet, billed as The Kosher Komic,
was performing on a recent Saturday night.
The air carriers
overhead, to be sure, were not part of “Glatt Kosher Airlines, ” the
imaginary fleet that is a highlight of Ayelet’s hour-long stand-up
routine. In it, she conceives an air carrier for the fervently
Orthodox: The flight attendants are trained in lengthening hemlines;
collapsible black hats are stuffed in seat pockets; the radio station
continually plays the Jewish traveler’s prayer; and, when the cabin
pressure drops, a book of Psalms, in place of an oxygen mask, is
released from the overhead panel.
“Please say your own
tehillim prior to assisting the small child, elderly passenger or
recent baal teshuvah seated next to you,” said Ayelet, mocking a “Glatt
Kosher Airlines” flight attendant during her Cedarhurst performance.
“I’m not making fun, I’m making light,” Ayelet, a baal teshuvah who lives in Jerusalem’s Old City, told The Jewish Week.
The Kosher Komic performed only for women — most wearing sheitels and long skirts –– who packed the Chofetz Chaim sanctuary.
In
addition to the Glatt Kosher Airlines shpiel, Ayelet’s shtick includes
jokes about her efforts to find a shidduch (“Always a shomeret
[bridesmaid], never a kallah [bride]”); why Jewish women have no need
for the witness protection program (“All you have to do is get her frum
and get her married, and Lisa Smith becomes Chaya Sarah Teitelbaum”);
and about her yiches (“My ancestors come from Poland and Transylvania,
so if you really believe in stereotypes, that makes me a dumb
vampire.”) She also proved to be particularly adept at mimicking
Israeli, Persian and Russian accents.
Audience members
chuckled almost without cessation as Ayelet, wearing an ankle length
black skirt, a turtleneck, sweater and “bulletproof pantyhose,”
delivered sketch after yeshivish vocabulary-laden sketch. As her jokes
assume more than a basic knowledge of Jewish law and rituals, Ayelet’s
shows attract a primarily Orthodox crowd.
Cedarhurst was Ayelet’s fourth stop during her two-week, six-city tour before heading back to Israel later this month.
“Good
for her for getting up there and doing this,” said Estie Bodner, who
attended the performance. “It’s a gutsy thing to do, especially if
she’s looking for a shidduch. Generally people are so worried about
what other people are going to think of them, but she’s able to make
fun of herself.”
While pursuing an acting career in
Los Angeles, before becoming orthodox, Ayelet became involved in
Aish Hatorah, the Jewish outreach organization, where she befriended
Orthodox rabbis and their families. “The more I got to know them, the
more I was amazed that they could live such pure and holy lives a town
full of immorality,” she said.
Inspired by their way of life,
she started to become more observant. Slowly, the working actress, who
had sworn off marriage and children and prayed incessantly for
commercial auditions, began to change her priorities. “I realized I
want a husband and children,” said the tall, raven-haired comedienne.
“I want God and meaning in my life.”
When she became, by her
own description “a flaming baal teshuvah,” she knew show business in
the traditional sense would not mesh with her new Orthodox lifestyle.
She began working behind the scenes at Aish and Isralight, another
outreach organization, while doing “kosher” stand-up on side.
Just what is kosher comedy?
For
one, she performs for women only, so not to transgress Jewish modesty
laws. In addition, her rabbi-approved material includes no references
to the violent, vulgar, sexual or derogatory.
“It’s easy to be
dirty and funny,” Ayelet said. “Dirty equals funny most of the time.
It’s not simple to put together a routine that’s funny and 100 percent
kosher, but I’ve never been one to take the easy road.”
Though
much of her act revolves around her search for her soulmate, Ayelet
said she plans to continue doing stand-up after she marries. “I will
have a shtick about engagement, marriage, children,” she said.
Then one performance-goer piped in, “You should do something about mikveh.”
“Mikveh,” Ayelet said. “Add that to the list.”
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