8 | DECEMBER 2 • 2021 

R

ecently, my husband, 
Arye, and I traveled 
to the holy city of 
Kiryat Arbah for the Shabbat 
of Parshat Chayei Sarah, the 
Torah parshah that describes 
the sale of 
the Cave of 
the Patriarchs 
— Maarat 
Hamachpela — 
to Avraham 
Avinu. We had 
the privilege 
of spending 
Shabbat with my cousins who 
have lived in Kiryat Arbah for 
more than 10 years. 
After reading all the 
rules and requirements 
and understanding that the 
number of expected guests 
could reach 30,000, we 
decided to arrive early in the 
day to avoid traffic and to be 
sure to get a parking space.
As Shabbat started, we 
began walking down (or is it 
always “up” to a holy site?) 
to the Maarah in Hebron. 
My husband, my cousin 
and I were slowly joined by 

thousands of Jews, including 
Chasidic families, students 
in their post-high school gap 
year, and local Jewish children 
who were showing us the way. 
We saw tents, RVs and cars 
set up for sleeping, and even 
some people walking around 
holding mattresses for later.
We arrived at the courtyard 
of the Maarah in time for 
Kabbalat Shabbat and were 
among the first 1,800 people 
who could have fit into the 
ancient building but decided 
against it and found a minyan 
of French yeshivah students 
outside. As more and more 
people drew closer to the 
Maarah, the crowd reached 
full capacity, and those who 
arrived later were left to 
daven on the stairs or even 
farther away.
The sounds of the different 
minyanim, in their different 
dialects and traditions 
(Ashekenazi, Sephardi, 
Chabad, etc.), filled my heart 
with spirituality. These were 
all different people, whose 
history brought them all to 

Israel, davening at the same 
time, next to one another. All 
different, yet all the children 
of Avraham and Sarah.
Arye said it best when he 
mentioned that this Shabbat 
was like a family reunion. No 
matter where the children 
end up, no matter where their 
lives have taken them, no 
matter how observant they 
are as Jews, they can always 

come home to see their 
“grandparents” and be with 
their family.
Walking back to my 
cousins’ house for a delicious 
dinner, we smiled at and said 
Shabbat Shalom to every 
brave soldier along the way, 
and they each responded in 
turn. After a delicious Shabbat 
dinner, Arye and I went back 
down the hill to experience 
more. This time, we were able 
to get inside the Maarah and 
visit the elusive Ulam Yitzchak, 
Yitzchak and Rivka’s burial 
place, which is only open 
fewer than 10 times per year 
because of political reasons. 
At the entrance to the 
room, there was a short line 
of women waiting their turn, 
and I asked one of the women 
what they were waiting for. 
She told me it is the entrance 
to Gan Eden (Garden of 
Eden), where our souls will 
go when we die, and that the 
women were leaning down to 
breathe in the sweet and holy 

essay
Spending Shabbat in Kiryat 
Arbah: Coming Home

Aviva Zacks

A family gets ready for a Shabbat camping adventure.

Thousands gather to pray at the 
ancient Cave of the Patriarchs.

BORDER PATROL OF MAARAT HAMACHPELA (TAKEN BY A NON-JEW ON SHABBAT)

PURELY COMMENTARY

NOAM ARNON