Eitam Farm: Participating in Drawing the Map of Israel
- J.P. Katz
- Feb 22
- 6 min read
Spotify
Youtube
Apple
What determines the future borders of a country — diplomats in conference rooms, or shepherds on a hilltop?
On a ridge overlooking Bethlehem and the hills of Gush Etzion, Mordechai walks me through Eitam Farm, a project he began during COVID but had envisioned for years.
“There have been attempts to inhabit the Eitamm successfully for more than a decade,” he explains. “This is the first attempt that lasted as long as it did and it's been growing consistently since we've moved in.”
Mordechai arrived five years ago. “The purpose of me being here, and I'm assuming the purpose of all the others who've tried, is to keep this land from falling into hands of our enemies.”
He describes what he sees as “constant attempts” at encroachment. “It's been purchased by the JNF over 100 years ago,” he says, adding that in many cases, “Arabs are constantly slicing away bits of Israel and they get away with it legally often and the land will never be ours again in the near future.”
“Our job at Givat Eitam and this farm and this whole project, it's not a profitable farm,” he says plainly. “It's something we do for the main purpose of keeping Israel.”
When he first arrived, he says, “there was nothing here. When I came here there was not one structure.”
Why has this attempt succeeded where others did not?
“Sometimes an idea time has come,” he says. “God gives us success sometimes, sometimes He doesn't.” He describes it as “a convergence of circumstances” and expresses hope that it signals “the success of the settler movement in general of keeping the hilltops, the farms, the agricultural land and all the state land that belongs to our nation in our nation's hands.”
A Beit Knesset Built by “100% Jewish Labor”
We enter what he calls the “Beit Medresh,” the core Beit Knesset of the farm.
“This Beit Medresh is sacred,” he says. “The Beit Knesset is unique in several aspects. One of them is that it's 100% Jewish labor. Everything was sourced from khadron, from Jewish stores, and all the workers, or actually the boys that studied here.”
He describes the farm’s mission as “a place of Jewish labor, Jewish agriculture, and limut Torah.”
Every morning there is a Seder. “There's a morning Seder every morning where the boys study with the rabbis, Talmud, Tanakh, and Halachah, up until the afternoon, and then in the afternoon, it gets a little cooler. They go out and work in the fields.”
About ten boys are currently part of the program, along with Mordechai, “another two, three families,” and volunteers. “Plus we have people from Ephraah and from Jerusalem that come here to study, to work, and to volunteer.” There is also a daily minyan. “Yeah, we have a Minyan every day. It's amazing.”
The students are post-high school. “These are all post-high school boys who finished Yeshiva, and one year before the army, they volunteer… it's a mechina. It's just pre-army Yeshiva program.”
History on the Hill
For Mordechai, the site is not just strategic but historic.
“This place has a lot of historical significance,” he says. “This is not just a frontier farm. This is a place that Shimshon, Samson, escaped the police team after his wedding. He came to Selah Ha-Itam, which is between Tkoh and Bit Lechem, which is here.”
He continues: “And the story of the jawbone of the donkey took place somewhere between here and Bit Lechem. And until today, when you graze these hills, you find donkey skeletons everywhere, which is remarkable.”
He also notes that the site “was later fortified by a son, R'chovam, and turned into a major city.” Aqueducts from the Second Temple period remain. “They used to carry water to Jerusalem.”
Beyond the Beit Knesset, he points out a visitor center under development, a lookout point, and “a pool, waterfall that we built for ourselves to refresh ourselves after a hard day of working in the field.”
Encroachment and Expansion
Looking out across the surrounding hills, Mordechai explains why he believes the farm’s presence matters.
“The fact that we're here prevents them from encroaching and taking over all this valuable, strategically important and historically significant land,” he says. “And that's why we're here.”
He describes nearby construction as part of a broader effort “to take over as much, just choke the Jewish communities in Yudan, Shomron, Judea and Samaria as much as they can.”
“And that's the Zionism of today,” he says, referring to settling hilltops and preventing what he sees as encroachment.
When he first arrived, he says, “Arab shepherds would be grazing all over.” As the farm planted and established itself, he says he acted to stop that grazing. Pointing to nearby structures, he says, “When I came here, this entire hill was clean.” He describes new houses as “all being funded by the European Union” and “directed by NGOs.”
He explains that parts of the surrounding area are “state land slated” for Efrat and describes it as “not going to be a new village… It's part of the existing city, which is Efrat.”
“The future is decided, the destiny of this land is decided by how far we can graze our sheep, vineyards and put homes,” he says.
From Brooklyn to the Hilltop
Mordechai shares his personal story.
“My name is Mordechai. I went to Yeshiv as a kid through rabbinical school. It's always been my dream to live the frontier Zionist lifestyle, something I always believed in.”
He says the decisive moment came during COVID. “Only during COVID was there enough craziness in the world for me to just do this.”
“I chose this place because of its strategic and historic significance. And I thought I could make a difference here.”
He was not raised in a Zionist home. “I was raised in Brooklyn. I was born in Jerusalem, but my parents moved to Brooklyn. I was three years old.”
“The Zionism that I kind of imbibed was really from texts from Goni Yeshiva,” he says. “It was the Torah itself.” He describes how passages about the Promised Land and the sin of the spies felt like “a calling to live like this.”
He studied at Mir and later at Mercaz HaRav, where he was ordained as a rabbi. “What I wanted was to be a Zionist, to go to the army and live in a settlement,” he says, noting that in the 1990s that path was less common for someone from his background.
He married young, became a rabbi in New York, then went into business and traveled between the U.S. and Israel. Eventually, he decided to settle in Israel. “When Covid happened, that's when it clicked that I can actually do this. It's not just a dream.”
By then he was divorced. “By the time I moved here, I was divorced already.” Being alone, he says, gives him more freedom but also disadvantages. “On a farm, you need more hands.”
A Message to American Jews
When asked what he would say to someone watching from Brooklyn, he does not hesitate.
“The time for Jews in America is running out,” he says.
“I could only bless you that you should merit to come to Eretz Israel… with honor and dignity. In a way where you still have your freedom, where you have money, where you can build your own place.”
“If you wait too long, you may have to come here… in like a refugee camp where Jewish refugees from all over the world will come because of what is coming.”
“It's a warning and it's a blessing,” he says. “And I'm hoping to see you all there, Israel.”
Meat, Torah, and Thursday Night
Life on the farm includes practical self-sufficiency. Mordechai describes slaughtering his own sheep. “If it doesn't come out, kashir, I sell them to the Arabs. If it comes out, kashir, I eat, feed it to my children and sell some parts to friends.” He also brings cattle from the Golan, slaughters and butchers them himself.
Thursday nights are different. “Thursday night we chill, we have cigars, we have smoked meat, we have wine, we let loose a little bit.”
“It’s a great Thursday night, it's a great time to come here.”
Eitam Farm, as Mordechai presents it, is not a hobby and not a business venture. “It's not profitable. It's barely sustainable,” he says. Support, he adds, is needed to continue.
For him, the mission is clear: “We future map of the country is decided by what people like us do. We get to hold onto the land and participate in drawing the map.”
The footage for this film was recorded in the summer of 2024. Less than two years later the Israeli government approved new housing units to be built the area between Efrat and Eitam Farm.
Spotify
Youtube
Apple
Comments