Crossing the Yarden

By Yarden Frankl

Confessions of a "non-ideological" settler

I have a confession to make. I did not move to Neve Daniel for ideological reasons. For me, simply settling anywhere in the land of Israel would have been sufficient to fulfill my aspiration to live in the Jewish homeland. The only really compelling reason to settle here, across the Green Line, was that we had friends living in the Yishuv, and it seemed like a nice place to live and raise children. The idea of strengthening the Jewish claim on these disputed lands is nice, but it really was not on my agenda.

Sure I had thought of the issue of safety. But Neve Daniel is supposed to be one of those "safe" yishuvim. It's close to Jerusalem and has several other Jewish settlements right next door. I would have absolutely no need to visit those "other" places that you just hear about, right? You know, the ones that you have to drive through Arab areas to get to, the ones that the government always speaks of giving up.

So why on Earth do I find myself going swimming in Tekoa? Why did we visit friends in Penai Kedem? Was is really necessary to drive to Bet Hagai last week and spend Shabbat there? What on earth has got into this "non-ideological" settler?

As I have found out after almost a year here, you cannot live your life in isolation. You might, but if you stay at home, afraid to go out the door, I'd hardly call that "living." Once you are here, you make friends and you cannot choose where they live. Even more so, your kids make friends and want to visit them. My son is not a political "expert" on TV. Yet he is fiercely opposed to the thought that an Israeli government might hand over Karmei Tzur. Why? Simple. He has teachers and friends who live there.

As you visit these places, you realize that maybe you were missing something. When you used to say that anyone who would want to live in these places must be crazy, you start to realize that life in these communities is not so different and can actually be quite beautiful. You can sit around on a Shabbat afternoon playing cards and everything feels fine.

Don't get me wrong. I am still not willing to go to "dangerous" places. I know people who have complete faith and would be unafraid walking down the street in Shechem. I admire them, but that's not me. Just as I would not have taken my family on a nice tiyul through certain gang and drug infested parts of Washington, we are not packing our picnic basket for the Al Arub refugee camp. My family is too precious to me, and I would rather eat nails than place them in a risky situation.

Yet what makes a place "dangerous?" It's a personal call. There is no such thing as absolute safety or absolute danger. My life was threatened during a robbery in a Maryland suburb that should have been "safe." At one time, we lived in a section of Washington that was just a few blocks away from drive-by shootings and other gang violence. Neither time did I let myself become a prisoner of fear, so why should I now?

There have been times in Israel's history when this whole area was engulfed in war. Holocaust survivors arrived on the beaches and were handed guns to defend their new homeland. Young people here struggle to get accepted to elite combat units. Who am I to say I refuse to visit communities in my land because there is a remote possibility that I will encounter a problem?

The fact is that if people like myself are not willing to visit friends "further out" how can I expect anyone to visit me?

The war on terror starts in our minds. I have simply decided not to be a victim.

Shabbat Shalom from our blessed nation.

© 2006 Yarden Frankl