Finding Common Ground: A Tale of Unity Through Theater

Every time Esti Reichman, a resident of Bnei Brak, passed by a tourist group in her city, the explanations from the tour guides didn't sit well with her. To her ears, the world of ultra-Orthodox Jewry was depicted in a way far from reality. At the same time, Ya'ara Landau-Kanner was living in Berlin, working in the Prime Minister's office. When she asked Israelis there why they chose to live in Berlin, they often replied, 'We have nothing to look for in Israel.' Unable to bear the growing division among her people, both women realized the need for change.

Tourists in Bnei Brak

Esti is a mother of five and owns a wig salon where she volunteers to make wigs for cancer patients, collaborating with 'Ezra LeMarpeh.' She encounters people from all walks of life—religious, secular, Jewish, and Arab. Over time, she noticed that many people's understanding of the ultra-Orthodox world was limited to stereotypes. This disturbed her, as secular people are considered enlightened; yet, they know little about their ultra-Orthodox neighbors. What particularly upset her was the ignorance she faced from professionals working with the ultra-Orthodox community. For example, a gynecologist asked her questions that didn't reflect her reality, which she found belittling and disrespectful.

From the other side, Esti sees the distance as well. 'The ultra-Orthodox world is closed and sheltered, unaware of what lies beyond its borders. From afar, everything in the secular world seems empty or even negative. However, upon closer inspection, one finds people with values and virtues. Viewing an entire public in such a negative light creates distance, which is especially challenging in a divided country like ours. Furthermore, religion does not belong solely to us; many people are connected to Hashem and certain commandments, each at their level. Most are not completely disconnected.'

Her discomfort escalated when hearing tourist guides in Bnei Brak. 'I would walk around the city, see groups of secular people visiting, and hear what guides conveyed to them,' she recounts, 'They said too many inaccurate things, and I felt we weren't represented correctly. It bothered me greatly, especially the notion that we're hated just for being ultra-Orthodox was distressing. Moreover, those who hate the ultra-Orthodox also hate the Torah that they supposedly represent, which was painful because, as I said, every Jew has a part in the Torah, even if they seem distant. Even during the COVID-19 period, when I roamed around Tel Aviv, I felt hate fueled by media distortions, and I felt helpless against such animosity. I realized I had to take action.'

At the same period, Ya'ara, married and a mother to a girl, now living in Ramat Gan, started feeling uncomfortable with the reality she saw. 'I worked for nearly nine years at the Prime Minister's Office, almost six of which were in Berlin,' she says. 'I met many Israelis who voluntarily moved to the German capital. At times, when I asked what motivated them, the answer was often 'We have nothing to look for in Israel.' Hearing this shocked me; realizing people no longer felt connected to the country propelled me to return to Israel and work in the social sector. Today, I am the deputy CEO at LEAD, an organization promoting and developing young leadership. It's crucial for me that everyone here has a good reason to stay.'

Rabbi Akiva and Allenby Intersection

The two women's desire for a better reality brought them together in an unusual theater group. 'It's a group of ultra-Orthodox and secular women connecting through plays about our worlds,' explains Esti. 'We're not professional actresses; we're women passionate about this field, expressing what is sometimes difficult to convey in words. Creating content for the plays allows us to discuss our differences, fostering understanding of the lifestyle each has chosen. For instance, when I explain the reasoning behind not sending my sons to the army, we may not agree, but we learn to respect and understand each other. Similarly, I hear the values important to her. We argue a lot and hug a lot, ultimately becoming best friends. Something powerful happens there, both around the play and in the social aspect. This is a joint project by the Shetachvia organization, which runs social theater groups nationwide, and the Eilat Hashahar organization, promoting unity between religious and secular Jews. Shetachvia provides professional guidance, and the 'Chavruta' project encourages dialogue on the topic.'

Ya'ara, what brought you to the group?

'First, I wanted to understand what was happening here, especially regarding our relationship with the ultra-Orthodox community. It was clear to me that our strength as a nation lies in its people, and if we work together, we'll be much stronger. So, the day after I landed in Israel, I signed up for the group, and a few days later, I attended my first meeting in Bnei Brak. The theater drew me initially, but I kept returning because of the incredible women I met. My landing in Israel wasn't easy, and the group became a significant anchor for me. I should mention that I had never spoken to an ultra-Orthodox woman before—it was my first time at 28.'

In a new play the group premiered last week, 'Rabbi Akiva and Allenby Intersection,' the women portray diverse characters, from a tattooed clothing store clerk to a woman from a closed Hasidic sect. 'Through a guided tour storyline starting on Allenby Street and ending at Rabbi Akiva Street, each of us chose a character we connect with and voiced it,' says Esti. 'The clothing store clerk explains how she came from a harsh life and chose to express her pain through tattoos, revealing how she has changed since her youth. On the other hand, the Hasidic character explains she's not submissive or miserable but a happy woman with a big family, a choice she made happily, along with a business she built herself. She acknowledges the challenges of such a life but insists it's the best option for her. There's also the Bnei Brak character, explaining she isn't just a gray figure in a skirt with a headscarf but a full person deserving recognition. The play's characters spark numerous discussions and conflicts, leading to a comprehensive and inclusive dialogue.'

Who makes up the play's audience?

'Religious and secular women, young and old, from all walks of life. We invite friends, relatives, and communities, spreading our vital message.'

Jeans at the Purim Feast

As time passes, the women form special friendships. 'We meet occasionally outside the group and invite each other to family events and Shabbat dinners. These get-togethers expose us to a world we never knew existed. One of our group, a lawyer by profession, who saw the change, decided to expand this further. She initiated meetings in her city between secular women's groups and an ultra-Orthodox woman to share her world.'

Ya'ara, how did you view the ultra-Orthodox world before this experience?

'I thought they were unhappy—ultra-Orthodox women lived in terrible motherhood round-the-clock, and the men suffered endless study. I also believed the ultra-Orthodox didn't contribute to society. What I discovered after joining the group was a completely different reality. I was amazed to find joyful women with a sparkle in their eyes and a vibrant spirit. Regarding social contribution, I found women working and volunteering, doing no less than anyone else, even for those different from them. I also found they were very open, willing to teach about themselves and learn about me.'

How do you handle the boundaries set by the ultra-Orthodox world?

'I think the clear boundaries actually allow for a lot of freedom. They're not limiting; rather, they provide a framework with plenty of room within.'

What about the disagreements that still exist?

'They're not that fundamental. The essential thing here is the person and what they bring. If an ultra-Orthodox woman has different opinions, it doesn't bother me. My boundary is with those who intentionally do harmful things; that's when I step back. But as long as it's not the case, and the woman dresses differently or follows specific mitzvot—that's her choice, and I respect it. It doesn't say anything about her character. Besides, I believe Esti contributes more to society than many people I know, including some who served as army officers.'

Another crucial point for Ya'ara is highlighting what unites them. 'Eventually, both secular and ultra-Orthodox women prioritize their relationships, families, and self-fulfillment, and in these aspects, we are the same—that's the core. Personally, I'm inspired by ultra-Orthodox women who manage between home and work without complaining, in a sense of completeness. Women who seemed pitiful appear strong, and even more, they are happy. When I have challenging times, I remember them; it gives me strength. I tell myself, if they can do so much, then I certainly can as well.'

One more transformation Ya'ara underwent is her perspective on the ultra-Orthodox world. 'I shattered many stereotypes, and my world expanded tremendously. For instance, during Purim, my husband and I attended a seudah (festive meal) at Esti's parents' home and enjoyed it beyond words. We connected, talked, and grew closer; it felt so genuine. I'd never experienced Purim in such a way, and that meal truly enriched me. Additionally, my husband was very critical toward the ultra-Orthodox community regarding military service, work integration, and taxes. At the Purim seudah, a candid conversation shifted his perspective, observing stereotypes crumbling one after the other. In everyday life, I feel like an ambassador for this. During COVID-19's first wave, when the ultra-Orthodox were heavily judged, I stood up for them, insisting people understand the situation before blaming. That was an opportune time to open discussions and reveal the truth.'

What do you feel you bring to the ultra-Orthodox world?

'I bring my entire self, with all my values and unique honesty, initiating openness from the other side. I show them that though I'm not ultra-Orthodox, I engage with Jewish practices and hold a certain connection. Mainly, I reveal that we're not all that different because, at the end of the day, the same things matter to both of us.'

Questions for Hashem in a Wig Salon

Beyond the theater group, Esti has taken on an additional role. 'At some point, I decided to be part of the tourist tours in the city,' she says. 'Groups visit my salon twice a week, hear about the charity project I undertook, and get a personal encounter with an ultra-Orthodox woman. I focus on narrating the true stories, promoting a bit more love for Israel. I always invite them to ask whatever they wish. I cannot solve everything, but understanding and softening is possible. Just a week ago, a group of teachers visited, and at the end, they asked me to speak to their students. For many, it was their first genuine interaction with an ultra-Orthodox woman, and they wanted their students to experience this as well.'

What questions come up during these meetings?

'Questions about women's status in the ultra-Orthodox sector, and her position relative to her husband and rabbi. The common belief is that ultra-Orthodox women possess no self-opinion or meaningful voice, being entirely submissive to the men around them. It surprises them to find powerful women balancing numerous children and prestigious jobs. They thought we were nothing more than doormats, and discovering we sometimes do more than many of them was a revelation. Also, I’m often asked how I accept the Torah guiding my behavior and attire, and I explain it’s akin to adhering to state laws or any legal system. They're also surprised we choose this lifestyle out of free will, even with its challenges, finding joy in it.'

What difficulties arise in such conversations?

'I struggle when told, 'You're not like other ultra-Orthodox women.' If I walked past them on the street, they'd think I'm like every other. My husband was a yeshiva student, and we raise a large family—so where's the difference? I am like every other, and they all are like me—people with a whole world of joy, healthy activity, and kindness.'

The responses to these meetings are touching. 'Once a high-ranking government official visited, a figure who often acted against the ultra-Orthodox public, initially unwilling to join the tour, but obligated by leadership studies. At the end of the conversation, she said, 'I thought I knew everything about the ultra-Orthodox, but I realized I knew nothing. After meeting real people, not just through news headlines, I understand reality is different. I can't believe an ultra-Orthodox woman from Bnei Brak could influence me so much.' It was moving.'

Esti attends these meetings with her mother and sister, or with Chavruta project manager Riki Seaton. 'The amazing part is there's no advertising for this; groups come through word-of-mouth, spread by those who've experienced it first-hand,' she says with satisfaction. 'Due to high demand and our capacity limits, we only accept groups with influence—like army officers, doctors, teachers. This, for me, is the story's 'happy end'—knowing we're reaching people, prompting a change in perspective towards the ultra-Orthodox public, especially its women.'