The houses themselves were simple. One could walk around, seeing potential for the little front gardens. In the shadow of the big rocks grew a variety of sage, thyme, zatar and many other wild herbs and flowers. In spring, the earth became mossy, a ready-made green carpet. The backyards faced the North Country and the new and rising Elon Moreh in the distance.

Between the rows of houses ran a concrete lane. Toddlers played there in the bright light, the sky a burning blue. Below this lane stood the public meeting houses, which served many purposes such as for praying, and planning a new decade of settlement and land reclamation. As the twilight sank, couples would stroll down to the new playground. There were hardly any trees at this point and sometimes the world felt a dreary place without them. Later, a huge expanse of fresh grass was put down there, rich and refreshing- it was like going to a country club.

The homes had no phones. This meant waiting on line, usually at night, for the one local phone. There, under the lone light bulb, the dim, yellow glow would give a cozy mood to those hooking up with the outside world. Then, the days were days and the nights were nights. Time had a definition.

At this time a generator supplied the electricity, it’s motor droning away almost always. When it shut down, the silence could be heard to the end of the world. It, like the people, needed an occasional rest too.

On the long winter nights the rain would rattle on the windows, sometimes shaking the frames of the little houses in a thunderous waft of freezing air. Was that someone banging on the thin wooden door? Babies were often held inside thick blankets. Walking down “Main Street”(our famous lane), one could see through the lace curtains, a candle glimmering and providing a warm and cheerful light.

There were days that it felt too cold to go out. Better lay in bed, listening to the steady freezing rain. When it was time to go, it meant trudging through the cold mud. The thought of family was warming to the heart. Then, walking indifferent in the rain, under the umbrella, pleasure was taken secretly thinking of the bountiful things of Eretz Goshen.

The women loved marketing. Tuesday was fruit and vegetable day. Children would wheedle their way between the crates and crates of melons, bananas and oranges. It was a luxurious day, but everyone counted his or her pennies. A big truck would arrive every Wednesday with frozen and dry goods. The women would kind of squeeze together in a heckling dance of reaching and grasping for this and that, beautiful in their bright and simple scarves.

Soon it became harvest time in the new fields. There was the hope of accepting something straight from nature. The people were slowly acclimating themselves with this land, learning its ways, praying for it to bless them. It was not easy.

With the arrival of spring, the children explored the warming hillsides, collecting pansies and anemones, slipping down the sloping hills covered in a purple thistle. They would bring a bright decoration for their shining Shabbat tables. Money was always short, but walking across the new fields gave a rich sense of ownership and pride. The hills were calling, “come and claim me, come and take me”. We couldn’t get enough of them. It was a kind of matrimony with the Land.

The visitors became enthralled with the place. They went out looking for mushrooms, hunting through the wet grass. There was the joy of finding something; an ancient olive tree bigger than a house, a wild vine, good for new starters.

Climbing the steep path to the top of the mountain, all things shone in the sun. The atmosphere, a soft gray, the gentleness of being so near the so ancient, the so ours, provided an intimacy that could not remain abstract. The prophet’s dreams were coming true. At that time, the hum of noise coming from the valley, where the “locals” lived was only a minor detail for us. We felt them, but not intensely. We were so locked into our existence, it was easy to forget the larger picture, feeling only the very being of this place at this time- then, now and forever.

The men transformed quickly from clean-shaven boys to bearded strong men. Some wore flannel or dark blue work shirts and pants with high black rubber boots. Some would be a little more “dressed up” standing in the early morning at the roadside wearing white shirts and large cranberry colored holy books under their arms. There were those that worked the Land, and those that dedicated their lives to learn the details of halacha concerning the Land. Later, there were also many that gave their lives for the Land…

When the tiny buds appeared on the rosebushes in the planters outside our front door, people would be seen emptying their worldly possessions into the backyards. There would be a ceremony of scrubbing down every surface of the little houses. It was Pesach-time. The grey and wet winter was replaced by this ritual, with the arrival of spring. People began to smile, speak and connect to those around them. And when we recited the prayer of Thanksgiving, making Pesach in the Land of Ephraim, it felt all the more special. “ Blesssed are you, Lord our G-d, King of the Universe, who has granted us life, sustained us and enabled us to reach this occasion!” end

Leah Goldsmith

My name is Moshe Goldsmith. I am a rabbi at the yeshiva high school at Itamar and a resident of the settlement of Itamar for the last 17 years. Itamar is named after the son of Aaron the high priest who is buried right down the road, in the middle of a present day Arab village. This grave gives testimony to the Jewish presence from time immemorial in these parts, the very heart of the land of Israel. The settlement faces the two holy mountains of the blessing and the curse, the valley of Shechem houses Joseph the Righteous One.

In the last twelve years we have lost more friends than we can count on two hands and two feet. Joseph was thrown again into a pit and Jacob cries for his loss. None the less, Joseph lives on and only later Jacob recognizes him. We are exactly in the phase before this revelation. We are a hard-necked people and stubborn in our quest to resettle the G-d given earthly covenant. We cleave to the land and the living Torah and hope to unify the people of Israel.

We have faced trials and tribulations, some too terrible to even mention, and suffered much at the hands of Ishmael. I would like to relate to you some of my personal experiences over the last few weeks.

It is a quarter to eleven at night and I am getting ready to go to sleep after an exhausting day. Suddenly I receive a phone call from one of my students. He tells me that he hears shooting right outside his dorm. Hearing shots isn't something unusual in these parts. I start questioning him ”where are the shots coming from?” (All this of course takes place within seconds) He tells me that they are very close. I tell him to stay in his room and that I'll be right there. I take my rifle and start making my way to the door of my house. As I put my hand on the door, I hear someone banging to get in. I open the door and about fifteen students come running into my house. They are all panic stricken and afraid to speak. At this point, I realize that something very serious is going on. I tell them to stay put and lock the door behind me. I quickly start making my way towards the school, which is located about 350 meters from my house. I am approaching the basketball court, I notice that a boy is lying on the ground wallowing in his blood. Two men are trying to give him life support. I am asked to identify him. It is a new student who joined our school just the day before. Grabbing hold of myself, I continue running towards the school, which is just down the hill from the basketball court. When I get there, there is tremendous commotion. People are running in every direction. Someone calls out to me and says, “there is the terrorist he has been killed”. I turn around and see something lying dead on the sidewalk that looks like a human being, but of course it can't be human. What human is capable of committing such an atrocity? At this point, I receive a phone call from the same student that first informed me of the incident. I tell him to stay put and wait until I knock on his door. When I get to him, I find him together with a group other students hiding under their beds. I can't describe in words the relief that glows on their faces to see a friendly face. While the army continues to search the campus, the staff and I begin to gather all the students in the major Torah study house. I quickly run and get a list of all the pupils and begin taking attendance. Two more students are missing.

Minutes later they are found lying in a pool of blood. The entire night while we teachers and students are sitting together in the Study house crying over our dear ones, former student graduates are coming from all corners of the country to strengthen us. The minute they received word of the terror attack they didn't hesitate to drive out to Itamar. This expression of brotherhood is living proof that Am Yisrael Chai.

It is now a little more than three weeks later. It is about seven p.m. and I am sitting in my synagogue studying Torah. Someone comes into the synagogue with terrible news. He mentions that there has been a suicide bomb attack in Jerusalem at the French Hill. We all gather together and begin saying Tehilim(Psalms)for the injured. When I come home I receive a phone call from my daughter, she asks me if I heard anything about a student of mine that was injured at the French Hill during the attack. I tell her that I know nothing of the sort and that if something really happened I would have been notified about it. After hanging up with my daughter, I quickly call one of my fellow staff members and gently ask him if he heard anything. He mentions that as far as he knows everything is o.k. A half an hour passes by and the terrible word - another one of our students has been murdered, Shmuel Yerushalmi.

The next day, Thursday, I am in Shilo at Shmuel's funeral session. We are all standing outside listening to the eulogies and crying over what is being said. I look ahead and notice my dear student, Neria Shabo, holding on to a fellow classmate and crying hysterically. Little does he know that in just a few hours he will be joining Shmuel and many others. I turn to my right and see my dear friend Yoseph Twito holding a baby. A women standing next to him was having a little difficulty holding her baby in the hot sun. Yoseph came to her aid. Little does he know that in a few hours, he will again come to the aid of others…

A few hours later in Itamar I am standing outside my house with my son Ephraim helping him prepare a barbecue for supper. All of a sudden I hear Ta Ta Ta. Could it be shots? No,someone is using a hammer. Then my other son Yoseph Israel appears, minutes before he finished playing for the last time, with a good friend Tzvika Shabo. Again I hear Ta Ta Ta. My son yells out to me Abba someone is shooting. I tell Yoseph Israel to take all the children into the house and lock the door. Don't worry I'll be back! Go home! Lock the doors! The children screaming and crying are running after me. Finally Yoseph Israel succeeds in getting everyone into the house. A take my rifle, that hasn't left my side for months, and start running in the direction of the shots. I make it to the Shabo house and find five of my friends crouched behind a metal garbage container just outside the house. They fill me in- “ Yoseph reported that shots were fired near the Shabo house”. Where is Yoseph? We all start calling aloud Yoseph!, Yoseph!, Yoseph!. He doesn't respond. Where could he be? He was just here a minute ago. Let's get a closer look! You take cover we are running ahead. Look! Yoseph has been shot! He has a head injury. Glancing through the window, someone shouts, there are people wounded in the house! The army arrives with help. Shots are fired in all directions. The terrorist is still in the house.

Here I am an hour later staring at the house as it goes up in flames. I am crying over the innocent victims but I'm also smiling. Either this monster will be burnt alive or shot as he attempts to run away. Then it all comes to an end - it jumps out the window and is shot attempting to escape.

It is Friday at 12:00 o' clock. Again I am staring at the Shabo house. It is now known as the burnt house. This time there are thousands staring at the house. We are waiting for Yoseph Twito, Rachel and three of her children. It is time to say goodbye. They must get to their final resting-place.

It is 1:30 thousands of us are in the graveyard. We are staring at Meir's tomb, the only tomb on the site. Meir was murdered about 9 months ago right outside Itamar. We were hoping that Meir wouldn't mind being bored for a while. I guess we were wrong. Yoseph, Rachel, and her children were laid to rest beside him. The testimony of our presence goes on.

One of the greatest Jewish saints of all time, the Ramchal, writes - The time will come when the Jewish people will rejoice in a happiness that will be so great, it will be greater than all the suffering we have endured throughout history. Those that have seen the pictures of the mounds and mounds of Jewish bones, the charred remains of the holocaust, can only feel the electrifying words of Yechezkial the prophet. (Chapter 36-37) The coming together of the dry bones, this very heap of bones had grown into a nation returning to her Land. A hundred years ago the first settlers had to deal with the murderous Arabs, and terrible natural disasters such as earthquakes, pestilence, plagues, and lack of basic food. They set the backbone, the very foundation of a homeland for the dry bones that arrived 50 years later and had nothing but pain, trials and tribulations. But the Jewish people had endurance. The Land raised up tremendous bounty, flowered and prospered for her people. True, hard times there were, and are…

We, the people of Itamar are an enduring people. We have patience and know that the work is hard. Please help us in making Eretz Yisrael flourish, as Hashem and our prophets have promised us in an everlasting brit.

Moshe Goldsmith

Dear Jonah,
Thank you for your continued concern. Itamar, as I’m sure you are aware, has been going through a very difficult time. A little less than two weeks ago, we lost another special member of our settlement. He was shot right outside our settlement on the way home from work. I can’t express in words the difficulties the settlement is going through. People that work outside the settlement have extreme difficulty in getting to work. We mustn’t let the terrorists succeed in keeping us off the roads and interrupting our daily lives.

Let me relate to you a small incident, which occurred this morning that may help you understand a little more about our situation. This morning I went to the porch to get my reserve jug of gasoline. It just disappeared. I discussed the problem with my wife. I told her I have no choice but to drive out to Ariel and fill up the gas tank. She stared into my eyes and said “Dear husband you are not going anywhere”. I guess I have no choice but to start digging in my back yard, maybe I’ll discover an oil field. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t think this is a joking matter. But, if you don’t keep your spirit up with a little sense of humor you can go mad.

Your idea of purchasing a bulletproof van is wonderful. Even simple errands become major tasks if you can’t get to town to take care of them. A bulletproof van would solve many of these problems. One possibility would be to arrange a shuttle system where a few times a day the van would make trips to Ariel. [Ariel is the closest city to Itamar it is about a 25 minute drive west of us].I have no doubt that in years to come the future generations of Israel will look back at this historical period and will honor the memory of the settlers and their supporters that saved our Promised Land. Thank you for being there for us. Have a happy and healthy New Year! May G-d merit us in witnessing the elimination of all evil forces and the building of our third Temple.

Sincerely yours,
Moshe from Itamar

Yishuv Itamar is located in the Gav Hahar region, or literally, "the Hump of the Mountain". It is hill country, tremendously big, picturesque and mysterious, varied with long and wide valleys who resemble a mosaic coat of many colors ranging from pea to deep jade greens and chestnut browns in the winter and spring months. In the summertime the colors are dry, like the colors of Rebbeca's jug, in which she served Eliezer and the camels in Babylon.

There are springs and wells in the hills. The bounty stemming from the blessing given to Joesph…."The blessings of the father are potent above the blessings of my progenitors to the utmost bounds of the everlasting hills"(Vayechi 49). The tribunal portions of Ephraim and Menashe, the sons of Joseph run across these highlands. In every direction that one looks, the views are emanated with authentic biblical greatness and Jewish nobility. This is the chief feature of the landscape, of your life in it, and you are struck by the feeling of having lived here in the past.

When we made aliyah to Itamar 15 years ago by Divine Providence, a strong vibe pervaded the air- here I am, where I ought to be.

Gav Hahar is crowned by two noble peaks that rise 3,000 feet above the surrounding country, the mountains of the Blessing and the Curse- Har Gerizzim and Har Eval. They sometimes resemble twin Mount Sinais simmering in a purple Holy haze of splendor, the gray, jagged rocks breaking through on the Eval side, and majestic forests waving on the Gerizzim. You cannot imagine why G-d created these mountains for any reason in the world than just to be the gate, the very shoulders of the Land of Israel, with Shechem (literally-shoulder) resting in the valley.

In the winter, the winds blow incessantly here. They strike the sides of the mountains and hills and blow against the windowpanes of our homes. Sometimes the houses shudder from it. The clouds, which travel with the wind, release the blessings of the dew and the bounty, the blessings of Joseph. Huge droplets of rain pour down the little streets of the yishuv and form little temporary streams and pools. The sky can become very gray and dark with a range of gray clouds and you remember Noach sheltering his family in the ark. In fact, the most rain falls in these parts. That is the way it usually is, when the blessings are given. When Joseph was thrown again into the pit, the skies suddenly cleared and the grounds await It is a drought year. But, even so, the fields are full of scarlet poppies and blue pansies. The deer run free in these parts and skip from hill to dale.

Interestingly enough, not many Jews have come to resettle this Land. It is still a hidden place to most. In all Gav Hahar there are no more than 500 families. They are spread upon these ancient mountains, Harey Kedem, sparsely. There are 4 yishuvim, Itamar, Bracha - situated on the mountain of the Blessing, Yitzhar, and Elon Moreh. Each yishuv has a panorama unique to its position on the "hump of the Mountain".

Elon Moreh sloping off to the north and the famous portion of the daughters of Zlofchad, Yitzhar, to the west and a breathtaking view of the Great Sea, Bracha- upon the whole of Gav Hahar, and Itamar to the east, to the Jordan.

Before the recent intifada AlAksa, some curious Tel-Avivers would drive out in their 4x4's to catch the breath of this land that reaches beyond time and space. That has stopped now. We, the local settlers, are inquisitive about any vehicle that is not a bulletproof bus on these roads. At times, life on the yishuv seems like that of a hermit, with the stillness of the night sometimes so out of the ordinary. But, all of the time you can feel the overshadowed existence of the local natives, much like the Canaani, the Perizzi and the Chitti, running parallel with your own but on a completely different plane. You can't help but wonder, when will this end? The echoes of our ancestors, the echoes of the screams of Joseph call out from the nearby pit, and you can hear "Ode Yoseph Chay". History and the future whisper in the spring wind. They console. They inspire.

It is only a matter of time that Joseph returns. "And you shall dwell in the Land that I gave to your fathers, and you shall be my people, and I will be your G-d".

for English speakers-
Moshe or Leah Goldsmith