(lubavitch.com) Despite the headlines and the number of Syrians rushing at the border fences, Golan Heights residents brush off the suggestion that their part of Israel is dangerous or in danger of being negotiated away.

“It's not on the chopping block,” said Rabbi Yisroel Haber, who has been Chabad's representative to the area with wife Miriam since 1983. “I think it's a mistake to lump the Golan Heights in with other parts of Israel that are.”

Story Highlights

• Golan Heights residents not worried by Syrian attempts to breach borders

• The 400 square mile area is home to 22,000 Jews, 32 communities. Chabad opened in the Golan in 1983.

• Rabbi Yisroel and Miriam Haber devote much of their time to the many soldiers stationed in lonely border outposts

As for the attempted border breaches, Rabbi Haber, a former U.S. Army chaplain, opines that Syria has its hands full with home grown unrest to be much of a threat to Israel. His home in Hispin is just over a mile from the border with Syria but he lives with fewer security devices than the average Los Angeleno or New Yorker.

The threat was greater during the 1990s when then President Bill Clinton pressured Israel to capitulate to the Syrian's demands for the Golan. An anxious Rabbi Haber wrote to the Lubavitcher Rebbe for advice in 1992. The Rebbe's answer is posted on a large sign on the red-roofed Chabad of the Golan Heights.

The Rebbe called “upon all residents of the Golan to be strong and not to fear all the latest events and to remain steadfast in place.”

Rabbi and Miriam Haber, and their four sons, printed up 6,000 copies of the bracing answer on yellow card stock and hand delivered them to as many homes, kibbutzim, moshavim as they could. Rabbi Haber still encounters farmers, dairymen, doctors who keep these cards in their wallets and pockets.

Shari Shizgal moved up to the Golan from central Israel five years ago, well after the yellow card distribution. She and her husband and children moved to Keshet, a moshav on land puchased in the 1880s by a Jewish society in Tzfat that nearly snuggles up against Syria. But with over 400 square miles of mountain peaks and plateaus making up the Golan, Mrs. Shizgal said she would not have noticed the events at the border had her husband not informed her. “All the bad stuff makes the news, and the good doesn't.”

Mrs. Shizgal, originally from Canada, chose Keshet expressly for all the “good stuff” the area has to offer. When she rocks her baby daughter, she can see the wind blowing through the eucalyptus and olive trees. On a fence across the way the first bunches of wild grapes of the season are beginning to appear.

“The expanses allow your soul to wander,” she said.

An ever alert IDF presence along the border helps maintain the tranquility of the Shizgals idyllic scenery. Rabbi Haber drives his station wagon on rounds to visit the young men stationed in lonely outposts. The visits belie the much reported divide between religious and secular. Again the media gets a slap.

“Most of the things you read in the press about how the left hates the right, I've never found that here,” said Rabbi Haber.

Soldiers born in Jerusalem have listened to their first Purim megillah reading during Rabbi Haber's visits. Commanding officers have posted signs on gatekeeper booths expressly permitting access by the American born Lubavitcher, especially since he is a basketball fan.

Living up in the heights far from big-city Israel plays a role in tamping down barriers and creating community closeness. Mrs. Shizgal's community of 100 families is especially tight. When a family's home caught fire in Keshet, teenagers climbed through the blaze to rescue the children. An unoccupied home was found for the family to live in temporarily. Meals were prepared. Clothing and furniture were donated to get the family back on their feet.

“The isolated physical reality is a factor” in the sense of community, “but so is the idealism,” she said.

Until Israeli Defense Forces beat back the Syrian army during the Yom Kippur War in 1973, Syrians stationed in the Golan had a clear shot into Israel's Hula Valley, Israel's agricultural heartland. Snipers took the lives of Israeli civilians. Regularly. One third of Israel's drinking water comes through the Golan. In the mid-1960s, it took an IDF action to thwart Syria's attempt to divert Israel's water supply.

“There needs to be a strong Jewish presence in the Golan,” said Mrs. Shizgal. So an attack like the one in 1973 “cannot happen again.”

David Spielberg moved north close to three decades ago to solidify the Israeli presence in the Golan. Today there are close 22,000 Jewish people living the Golan in Qatzrin and 32 communities, kibbutzim and moshavim.

For a while, Mr. Spielberg worked at the Golan Heights Winery, designated this year's “Best Winery in the World” in the VinItaly competition. It's one of the largest of the Golan's 200-plus wineries, and one of its most medal winning. Now he's more involved another major Golan product: cows. The Golan's dairy cows produce 60 million liters of milk, about a fifth of the country's total production.

He lives near Rabbi Haber's home, and appreciates Chabad's activities. “Everyone is invited. And every kind of person – religious or not, Ashkenazi or middle eastern background, from the moshavs or the city – comes.”