Judea Magazine, No. 6.4
Hebron Etzion
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"Rebuilding Jewish Life in Judea, Israel"
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JUDEA ELECTRONIC MAGAZINE Vol.6, No.4 Tammuz-Av 5758/July-Aug 1998
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Website: www.virtual.co.il\clients\judea
Contents:
* "We are the Emissaries of the People of Israel, Except the People of
Israel Don't Realize It"
* Looking Toward the Future: Interview with Minister Rafael Eitan
* Without Fences - Special People: Yosi Sadeh
* The New Religious War: Violence between Christians and Muslims in
Israel and the Territories
* Remembering Moffa
* The Etzion Judaica Center
* Actions Speak Louder than Words
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"WE ARE THE EMISSARIES OF THE PEOPLE OF ISRAEL,
EXCEPT THE PEOPLE OF ISRAEL DON'T REALIZE IT"
Nadav Haetzni
A few kilometers east of the place where Shlomo Leibman and Harel
Ben-Nun z"l were murdered in the Jewish village of Yitzhar in Samaria in
early August, you find one of the most incredible sights in Israel. It's
one of those kind that until you get there, you don't believe such a
thing is possible. All you need to do is take the road to Itamar in
Samaria, pass through the main entrance gate, glance at the red-roofed
houses at the beginning of the village, and then, after the first cluster
of buildings, it begins: a narrow path winds and climbs eastward toward
the ridges above the village. Along the length of that route are
scattered individual homes of Jewish settlers -- here a trailer, there a
wooden house build by hand, and next to it a goat pen or sheep or a fruit
orchard. And the dirt path continues to wind its way up and up.
There is no fence or comprehensive guard duty. All that is here are
new dirt paths, cleared recently on state land. Far from the village and
its crowded together houses you can make out the water tower in the
distance on the highest peak. A winding climb upwards for another few
kilometers leads to an additional group of houses. Here, in the heart of
nowhere, with a wild, breathtaking view, stand two wooden houses and a
trailer. Even at the height of the summer, a pleasant wind blows here,
of the type that threatens to blow away the improvised buildings during
the winter. On a clear day you can see Mt. Hermon as well as the towers
of Shalom Center in Tel Aviv. But even this isn't the end of the
village. A few kilometers further east is the water tower of the Ron
family, who live almost alone on Hill 866, named for its height. If not
for the men wearing kipot, you might think this is a scene from the Wild
West, and not necessarily because of the appearance of the residents --
one of them is a pilot on active duty with the Air Force, a second
teaches young children, a third is a former kibbutznik from Kinneret.
A special breed. Almost all are newly religious, earning a living
from organic agriculture and goat-raising, and feeling like A.D. Gordon
and Yehoshua Henkin. An exceptional breed, even among the pioneering
settlers in Judea, Samaria and Gaza, of whom they have become a part.
You can meet this same breed in the South Hebron Hills, in nearby
Yitzhar, and in a few other villages.
A week ago, one afternoon shots were fired at a Jewish shepherd on
the Ron family's hill. A few months ago nine firebombs were thrown at
the generator of the Mashulmi and Cohen families. This week they buried
their friends Shlomo and Harel in the rocky ground of the village just
opposite. None of this slows the local determination to continue
forward.
"We are the emissaries of the people of Israel, except the people of
Israel don't realize it," begins Arad, the kibbutznik from Kinneret,
whose parents, grandfather, and grandmother still live on the kibbutz.
He became religious just a few years ago and by chance reached the
village of Itamar. Now, with a large white kippa and peyot, he makes a
living from agriculture, does reserve duty in the paratroop brigade, and
feels he is walking in the footsteps of the pioneers of the Jordan Valley
where he grew up.
"You need a lot of faith here, otherwise you couldn't last a second
with all the dangers hiding behind every rock," he says, "but this
village is located near the bellybutton of the earth and we are here to
assure that the bellybutton won't be cut off from the body. If you want,
I'm a volunteer here. The difference between us and [Kibbutz] Degania
Aleph, for example, is that Degania Aleph is located on the site of an
old Arab village and we are on state land far from anyone. So whoever
claims that we don't need to be here should first give back Degania Aleph
and then we'll talk."
The conversation takes place on a rug in the yard of the Cohen's
trailer. The trailer itself comprises two and a half rooms for the
parents and five little children. The father, Doron, says there is room
for everyone.
"To be here is no doubt scary," he says, "especially when you have a
wife and small children and you can't be sure of anyone. But there's
fear in every place and you deal with it. My parents in Ramat Gan aren't
afraid? This whole nation is afraid and in distress, so someone needs to
set the boundary."
From the top of the mountain in Itamar you can see the houses of the
village of Bracha, above Shechem. A month and a half ago I visited there
at the home of Leah Ziv-Pereg, when I went to get a picture of what to
expect here after the next withdrawal by the IDF. This week, just before
the double funeral in Yitzhar, I couldn't help remembering our
conversation.
Leah's first husband, Yaakov Pereg, together with reserve soldier
Arthur Hersting, was murdered 10 years ago on the road that goes up to
Bracha. She married again, returned to Bracha, and raises eight children
and fruit trees.
"We're continuing here, this is our task," she told me then, "and I
see today that our objective is to add as many families as possible in
order to be able to continue."
The villages here were founded at the beginning of the 1980s, and
since then they've been waging a war of endurance and development. In
the days of the intifada, and especially since Oslo, this war has become
a struggle for their very survival. In Yitzhar, as in Itamar, they are
fighting, even beyond daily existence, for the oxygen that will enable
their continued development -- war over land, state land.
And together with all this there is the daily struggle against
terror. From the heights of Itamar's mountain ridge you can see the many
sites of terror and mourning of the area: for example, the place where
soldiers of the Palestinian police were caught six months ago on their
way to attack the village of Bracha. They acted then on behalf of their
commander, Razi Jibali. You can also see the road where Rabbi Elyakim
Levanon of Alon Moreh was miraculously saved after his car was riddled
with gunfire from soldiers of the same group. You can also see where a
roadside bomb went off as a bus full of students from the Joseph's Tomb
yeshiva passed by, one of whose passengers had been Shlomo Leibman z"l.
You also see the houses of the village of Elon Moreh, where they also
count their fallen -- Rami Haba, Tirza Porat, Ofra Felix.
In general, the path of terror accompanies the residents of the area
the way chronic cancer penetrates the body. And the villages, which are
used to living with water from tanks and trailers at pristine sites, are
also used to coming together as one tribe in time of tragedy. The
support for the families, the immediate organization to help the life of
the wounded village continue, and even the assistance to widows and
widowers and orphans, has become part of the normal routine.
This even happened in the kindergarten at Yitzhar. When I visited,
the kindergarten was being run by Rachel Shenrav, who came here from her
home in Karnei Shomron west of here. She herself, a national supervisor
for young children, needed to draw on all her skills to maintain a tone
of business as usual and keep from breaking down. There are 40 children
in the nursery, and while the parents tried to gather up their own broken
pieces, professionals came in from the surrounding areas to assure that
life would continue to flow.
"There is a sort of standard procedure for tragedies," she explains,
"and to my sorrow, we're very experienced with it. You cannot imagine
what a support group there is here. When tragedy strikes, everyone comes
together. There is great strength in that unity and it gives you the
ability to keep going, because you know you aren't alone. My work here
adds meaning to my life. I just hope we will succeed in surviving all
these blows -- and we will."
Rachel Shenrav has 5 children and they are carrying on the tradition
of their parents. One son lives in Elon Moreh, a daughter in Ofra,
another daughter in a small village. In general, many of the second
generation from the new Jewish villages are widening the furrows plowed
by the first generation. So, for example, the two victims from Yitzhar
were second generation from the villages -- from Kiryat Arba and Shilo.
And so on the ridges of Itamar, in the South Hebron Hills, in Rachelim
and in the rest of the new villages, the second generation is clearly
present.
Two major differences may be seen between the generations: first,
the children grew up within a reality of the existence of the villages
and they just can't comprehend threats to their very existence. Second,
the percentage of graduates of combat and reconnaissance units is much
higher among the youth than among their parents. And the connection
between the education they received at home and in the army and the
reality in the field pushes many to set even bolder goals than those of
the previous generation.
To a great extent, this wild, agricultural type of settlement is a
certain adaptation by the younger generation of the rules of the game as
played by the Arabs, one closely connected to the struggle over land.
The way in which they settle on the hills of Yitzhar and Itamar doesn't
require big budgets or a lot of people. All you need to do is what the
Arabs do -- put up two shacks, graze a flock of sheep, and plant trees.
This is how borders are established and it provides a new challenge in
the competition over land. Contrary to the public image, they're not
involved here with revenge and redemption of blood, but with redemption
of land.
How is this public dealing with the expected withdrawal, with a
government that is not meeting expectations, with deep hostility in
sections of the nation, and above all with the Palestinian Authority that
is being built into a state? The answer, to one's great surprise, is
optimistic. Very optimistic.
One of the prime movers of the generation of optimists is Yaakov
Katz, "Ketzele," a resident of Beit El and one of the heads of Arutz 7
radio and the Council of Settlements in Judea, Samaria and Gaza.
Standing at the edge of the funeral in Yitzhar, Ketzele remains
optimistic. He, like many of his friends, speaks in a language that in
Tel Aviv and Jerusalem is considered packed with cliches, but next to the
fresh graves it doesn't sound false:
"The reality today is that in Judea and Samaria there are nearly
200,000 Jews, and in Jerusalem there are more Jews in the east of the
city than in the west. This provides another reason for optimism in
addition to our vision and our faith. We believe that what we are doing
is part of the struggle for the independence of the Jewish people. We
are just a part of a greater effort that began more than 100 years ago.
Today, after those who brought it through the previous stages have become
tired, we are carrying it forward."
Q: Nevertheless, what about the withdrawal and a Palestinian state?
"I know this doesn't sound like a logical process, but the Zionist
enterprise is not logical and in spite of that we have succeeded in
overturning logic. I remember that when we established Beit El with the
first six families, I went to the U.S. to raise money. They told me
then, 'Forget it, you'll soon leave,' but against all the odds there are
today nearly 1,000 families in Beit El. Therefore, today as well we need
not panic at the problems of the moment. We need to look at the whole
enterprise, in which we are advancing all the time. And I certainly
believe that despite all the persecution, hardship, and attacks, we have
enough strength to continue and to go forward."
(From _Maariv_, Shabbat, 7 August 1998, p. 4+)
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LOOKING TOWARD THE FUTURE
Interview with Minister Rafael Eitan
Former IDF Chief of Staff
Denise Bart
Q: Minister Eitan, do you expect agreement on a withdrawal soon?
A: I hope not. We're caught up in this withdrawal psychology where
the public thinks the withdrawal will bring peace. And what happens
afterwards? The negotiations just begin, so what value is withdrawal?
No withdrawal will help us reach a final settlement. This whole system
of withdrawals was a horrible mistake from the beginning. They should be
stopped and we should have negotiations only on a final settlement. The
withdrawals are of no value to achieve peace. The opposite is true.
With each withdrawal we merely increase the appetite of the Arabs for
war, because each withdrawal merely weakens us.
Q: In May 1999, Arafat will declare a Palestinian state. What will
Israel do in such a situation?
A: Cancel all the agreements, annex all the Jewish villages in Judea
and Samaria, and then we'll see what happens.
Q: What do you think will happen?
A: Nothing. And if there's an intifada we'll beat them properly,
not like before.
Q: What would you do differently?
A: Apply large forces at one time to end that intifada in 2 or 3
days, as we did after the tunnels [in September 1996]. They had 80
killed in two days and they calmed right down.
Q: What will change after Arafat declares independence?
A: Nothing will change. There will be another Arab state and all
the world will run to open embassies there, but we can strangle them with
the roads. We can cause them real problems, and if they're violent, we
can return it 20 times over. If they see tanks everywhere they look,
they'll sit quietly. But the most important thing is to annex all the
settlements and all the territory in our control.
(From _Makor Rishon_ Yoman, 24 July 1998, p. 14)
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Special People:
WITHOUT FENCES
Yair Ettinger
Three months ago Yosi Sadeh started his farm, four trailers on an
empty mountaintop not far from one of the Jewish villages in Judea near
Bethlehem. Some 24 young men live on Sadeh's farm, all of whom have had
troubled backgrounds. Not only did they all have to leave their homes
but many also ran away from state-run institutions. Yet unlike many of
their friends that remained out on the street or in institutions or
foster homes, the future of these young men appears secure.
What changed their lives, they testify, was meeting Sadeh. From
their stories it seems that in recent years the word has spread about
Sadeh among street kids and in institutions, and also among haredi
[ultra-Orthodox] youth who have left the religious lifestyle. Sadeh has
informally adopted many of those who came to him -- 68 so far.
Sadeh, 27, has succeeded where the welfare services have failed: 12
young men at the farm work or study, mostly in regular schools. 12 older
youth not only serve in the army but all serve in combat units (7 in
elite units, 1 is an officer). 34 more young men that he adopted have
left after succeeding in establishing normal lives -- as students,
professionals, family men -- involved in society.
To a visitor from outside, it's hard to imagine a connection between
the stories one hears about these young men and the site one sees -- the
classical music coming from one of the trailers, the friendly open
atmosphere among the youth themselves and toward outsiders. As one
explained, "When you're in a relaxed environment, when you're always
involved in work or studies, when there are good people around you who
are trying all the time to help and to contribute, even outside the farm,
you simply don't have time for foolishness and the atmosphere becomes
very positive."
During the week only the high school youth are there with Sadeh and
another adult, but on weekends the soldiers come home on leave and
visitors arrive including some from neighboring villages bringing cakes
for Shabbat. But most of the food is prepared by the young men
themselves in the communal kitchen.
According to officials from the Ministry of Social Welfare who know
of Sadeh's work, the home he provides is the only one of its kind in the
country. Other ministry-sponsored institutions limit stays to 3 months,
but with Sadeh the boys live as family as long as they wish, though he
does not formally adopt any of them. Sadeh is also careful never to call
them "unfortunates." At the farm, he says, "we're all brothers and I'm
just the big brother."
Sadeh never had any formal training to do what he does and doesn't
feel he needs it. But there are those in the establishment who recognize
what he's done for 68 boys and see him as providing a serious alternative
that can be learned from.
Sadeh himself is today secular but grew up in an ultra-Orthodox
family in Bnai Brak. He describes himself as always having had special
empathy for the weak. He left home at 16 and lived out on the street,
sleeping in public shelters or at the homes of friends. He served in an
IDF combat unit and when on leave, lived in a rented apartment in
Jerusalem. In his neighborhood he met three boys who were having serious
problems at home and realized that no one was doing anything about it, so
he offered them to move into his apartment and they agreed.
Q: Weren't you concerned that they were just using you?
"Every time I came home on leave I saw them with fresh cuts and
bruises from the beatings they suffered. I knew enough kids like them to
know that if I didn't take them in with me, today they would either be in
jail or dead. Instead, today all three have finished the army, one is
married, the second is finishing high school matriculation, and the third
is studying economics." When Sadeh and the young men moved to Beit
Shemesh he met others in a similar situation and "adopted" them as well.
Because Sadeh had not completed high school before the army, he
could not be sent to the officers course, but he often served as an
acting officer in his unit and forged strong links with a number of high-
ranking officers who have helped him in his work.
Sadeh still doesn't have government funding, but with the help of
connections he has made, including those with politicians, material
conditions at the farm have improved. The Amana settlement movement of
Judea, Samaria, and Gaza was recruited to help. It provided a water
tower and paved the access road, while the generator was provided by the
Settlement Division of the Jewish Agency. The contents of the trailers
came from a totally different source. When the residents of Kibbutz Beit
Hashita and Kfar Giladi heard about Sadeh, they decided to adopt the farm
and sent a shipment of furniture and clothes.
Sadeh has big plans for the future. He wants to turn the farm into
a center for trips into the Judean Desert by jeep and horseback, plus
rappelling on the steep cliffs of its canyons. The guides will be the
youth and the soldiers who plan to return to the farm to live after their
discharge.
(From _Haaretz_, 3 July 98)
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THE NEW RELIGIOUS WAR: VIOLENCE BETWEEN CHRISTIANS AND MUSLIMS
IN ISRAEL AND THE TERRITORIES
Said Kashua and Dafna Baram
Faiz Omar, a reporter from Israel Television's Arab News Department,
was summoned to the offices of the Palestinian Authority's Counter-
Intelligence Office in Bethlehem in late May. The reason: a news report
Omar broadcast in the Weekly Magazine program focusing on tension between
Christians and Muslims in that city. The Palestinian press reported that
he was arrested and questioned, but Omar denies this.
"My report was about two new trends," Omar explains: "Christians who
hang large, prominent crosses on their homes, something that outrages the
Muslims, and the attack on a mixed couple by Christians from Bethlehem."
In Nazareth, a minor disagreement between the city government,
headed by a Christian, and the Muslim Wakf has become a major conflict
between those known as "the New Christians" and angry Muslims. A city
official was wounded in the conflict and a reporter reporting the story
was stabbed and threatened. In the village of Toraan, a Christian was
murdered and two Muslims seriously injured. At Hebrew University the
traditional alliance of the Communists and the Sons of the Village has
ended and student activities now reflect Islamic and messianic Christian
influences.
Underlying the violence are a few simple socio-political factors:
the national movement of Palestinian Israeli citizens has been fighting
for its existence for the last decade. The intifada, which strengthened
national identity, has been replaced by depression that followed the Oslo
agreement. The improvement in the economic condition of a large portion
of Israeli Arabs has given birth to forms of conduct that are liberal and
secular, expressing itself in a growing move for integration into Israeli
society as equal citizens. In parallel, as part of a growing worldwide
trend toward religious fundamentalism in general and Muslim
fundamentalism in particular, the Islamic Movement in Israel has also
grown. The Christians, many of whom are supporters of middle-class,
secular Arab parties, have begun to feel threatened and are beginning to
show signs of organization on a religious basis.
The struggle in Nazareth began half a year ago when the city tore
down an old school building, located near the grave of Shahab E-Din,
which is next to Nazareth's prominent Catholic Church. The city, in
cooperation with the Government Tourist Corporation, planned to build a
tourist center at the school site in the framework of the Nazareth 2000
project.
The destruction of the school upset members of the Islamic movement
who claim that its land belongs to the Muslim Wakf. The head of the Wakf
in Nazareth claimed that there had been a mosque in the school used for
prayer in the past. "The Christian city government brought in bulldozers
and destroyed the building in the middle of the night," he claimed. The
action upset members of the Islamic Movement in the city, who quickly
organized demonstrations at the site and turned for help to the
Palestinian Mufti of Jerusalem, who issued a ruling that the land
belonged to the Wakf.
The city claims that the land has been rented from the Israel Lands
Authority since the establishment of the state and the Wakf had never
made any previous claim of ownership until now, that the land had been
state-owned since Ottoman times, and that the issue was related to the
upcoming city government elections.
Hundreds of Muslim worshippers gather every day at the tent erected
on the site by the Islamic Movement. For Friday prayers the crowd
frequently swells to a few thousand. The tent is carpeted, a generator
supplies electricity, and faucets have been installed for washing before
prayer. The Islamic Movement plans to turn this temporary structure into
the largest mosque in Israel, with a minaret 100 meters high. At the
entrance is a sign: "On this site will be erected the Shahab E-Din
Mosque." Another sign reads: "The El-Aksa Mosque and the Shahab E-Din
are the crown of Palestine."
The conflict in Toraan broke out one Sunday after a group of Muslim
youth dared each other to enter the local church during prayer services,
which they did. Two days later one of the youth and his father were
spotted by a group of Christian youth and beaten up. The next day the
rumor spread that the father had died, and Muslim youth stabbed to death
a Christian passerby in revenge. The violence spread throughout the
village with tens of Christian houses and cars set alight, as well as
those of Muslims. The Christians are a minority in the village but many
are armed since they serve in the army. Fearing a major tragedy, the
police intervened and dispersed the rioters with tear gas.
A local teacher explains that the outbreak came as no surprise.
"The tension between Christians and Muslims rose after the last local
elections when the new Muslim mayor allowed no representation to the
Christians who number a third of the village." Previously, the task of
deputy mayor had been reserved for a Christian. Control of the local
council means control of well-paying jobs for local college graduates.
(From Kol HaIr [Jerusalem], 5 Jun 98, p. 51+)
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REMEMBERING MOFFA
Amiel Ungar
This spring we buried our founding father Mark (Moffa) Vinyarsky in
Tekoa's cemetery. Moffa's story transcends Tekoa; he personifies the
qualities that made this country.
Newly arrived in Israel from Moscow in November 1973, immediately
following the Yom Kippur War, Moffa and his wife, Ina, had both secured
good jobs in Beit Shemesh. But they dropped everything in 1977 to start
a new settlement southeast of Jerusalem in Judea, and Moffa, then 48,
relinquished a secure position as an engineer to assume the job of the
community's handyman. As such, he was frequently called out at two in
the morning to coax a recalcitrant generator back to life and activate
Tekoa's perimeter lighting.
When we counted barely 10 families in Tekoa, Moffa, although not
religiously observant, would punctually take his place in the synagogue
on Sabbath and festivals to ensure that we had a minyan. His
thoughtfulness attested to his inherent decency, but also to the
Vinyarskys' insistence that Tekoa would be an open community uniting
observant and non-observant Jews. If most Israelis were skeptical about
the possibility, then most Israelis were wrong.
I recall two of his memorable rejoinders to visitors who asked him
why he had come to Tekoa. To one he answered, "As a new immigrant to
Israel, I would be taken to various locations and invariably someone
would pipe up with the refrain, 'When I first got here, there was
nothing.' Someday, I also want to turn around and tell people that when
I first came here, there was nothing."
Another questioner got this reply from Moffa: "It is only natural
that a Jew should want to live in Judea." I am sure that this remark
will elicit sneers from the sophisticates. However it explains why
"territorialist" alternatives to Zionism, from Uganda to Birobidzhan,
never made it. Jews were only prepared to establish a state in the land
of the Jews. It also explains why the pathetic and perverse attempt to
deny this attachment by employing geographic inanities such as "West
Bank" are equally bound to fail.
If anybody had predicted circa 1970 that the Vinyarskys and nearly a
million other Jews from the Soviet Union would arrive in Israel over the
next three decades, he would have been certified a deranged visionary.
But then Jewish and Zionist history have a way of confounding the
experts.
(From _Jerusalem Report_, Independence Day 1998, p. 171)
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THE ETZION JUDAICA CENTER
The Etzion Judaica Center is a hub for the display and sale of
original Judaica and art work from all over Israel, only a 12-minute
drive from Jerusalem. Especially featured are artists living in the
Etzion Bloc. The Center's facilities include a museum, multi-media
center, exhibition hall, art galleries, gift shop, and restaurant.
Art work on display and for sale includes gold and silversmithing,
papercuts, woodworking, fiber arts, metalwork, calligraphy, ceramics, oil
paintings, water colors, jewelry, and stained glass.
Etzion is the southern region of greater Jerusalem. Gush Etzion is
the bloc of communities that defended the southern approach to Jerusalem
in 1948. The history of the Jews in this region spans over 40 centuries.
The warriors of King David, the Maccabees, and Bar Kochba all fought in
Etzion in defense of the Jewish people and Jerusalem. Presently, the
area is the site of a highly successful group of diverse suburban and
cooperative residential communities.
For further information about the Center, phone 972-2-9934040.
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ACTIONS SPEAK LOUDER THAN WORDS
Just prior to the 5th anniversary of the death of Mordechai Lipkin
z"l (see Judea Magazine 1.4), who was murdered on his way home to Tekoa,
Mordechai's mother asked that the monument at the murder site include an
inscription in Russian.
Haim Amihai of Tekoa began to work on this request and also to clean
up the area around the monument. A week before the ceremony, Amihai
affixed the new plaque -- but it was defaced that very evening.
Arabs spraypainted the monument and built a fire beneath it,
blackening the large stones. Amihai reports that this was not the first
time the monument has been defaced.
(_Gushpanka_, July 1998, p. 5)
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*** BACK ISSUES ***
1993 - Vol. 1: Issues 1.1, 1.2, 1.3, 1.4, 1.5, 1.6
1994 - Vol. 2: Issues 2.1, 2.2, 2.3, 2.4, 2.5, 2.6
1995 - Vol. 3: Issues 3.1, 3.2, 3.3, 3.4, 3.5, 3.6
1996 - Vol. 4: Issues 4.1, 4.2, 4.3, 4.4, 4.5, 4.6
1997 - Vol. 5: Issues 5.1, 5.2, 5.3, 5.4, 5.5, 5.6
1998 - Vol. 6: Issues 6.1, 6.2, 6.3, 6.4
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