Prime Minister Ariel Sharon’s assertion this week that Hebron is a “Jewish strategic asset,” presumably to be retained even as other pieces of “Greater Israel” are given to the Palestinian Authority, drew scant attention, but it is an essential way to understand the complicated “land for peace” equation. It says that Hebron is different from Gush Katif and the rest of the Jewish settlement enterprise in Gaza. Indeed, Gaza hasn’t been “Jewish” in any real sense for a long time, all that glatt kosher greenhouse lettuce from Gush Katif notwithstanding. Hebron, on the other hand, surely is different, and more “essential” than Gaza. The difficult part will become when we determine, to paraphrase Bill Clinton, just what Hebron is. For me, Hebron immediately brings to mind the Cave of the Patriarchs. I spent a remarkable morning there in late 1999, before the current situation took hold. After a beautiful drive south from Jerusalem, we carefully wound our way down Worshipper’s Way from Kiryat Arba, the Jewish town on the hills just east of Hebron. As we entered the plaza, the friend I was with checked his guns at the army post, and we continued on inside the small Jewish portion of the vast complex built around what are believed to be the remains of Judaism's patriarchs and matriarchs: Abraham and Sarah, Isaac and Rebecca, Jacob and Leah (Rachel’s Tomb is near Bethlehem.). 24-hour worship Once inside, we passed the worshippers reciting psalms and other prayers. The spot, like Rachel’s Tomb and the Western Wall, is usually “manned” 24 hours a day by students, rabbis and the devout both because it’s there, and in an effort to cement the Jewish presence. Until Jewish rule was reestablished in 1967, Jewish worshippers had been banned from going beyond the seventh step into the complex for 700 years. Once inside, I took a seat in the small chapel adjacent to the locked alcove that stands directly above what is purported to be Abraham’s Tomb. Myth, belief, tradition and political volatility are so heavily encrusted over the spot that no one has excavated down below for centuries. Inside the alcove, I could dimly make out a large crypt covered by an ornately embroidered Arabic quilt. Notes, candle remnants and other offerings littered the floor. I sat quietly, took a deep breath, and was soon overwhelmed by a feeling of intense spiritual energy far more profound than any I have ever felt at the Western Wall. I nearly swooned. I can’t say whether the ghostly presence of Abraham is there or not - but something is, no question. Many minutes later, I made my way back outside, my head spinning with thoughts about Israel, the Jewish people and my Hebrew namesake. It had been a profound moment. You can discount this if you like, but I have heard the same thing from others. The Jewish connection to that spot of land is deep, powerful and unmistakable. Giving that up is virtually unthinkable, unlike the modern Jewish villas and greenhouses of Gaza. Which Hebron? But now we come to the nut - what did Ariel Sharon mean when he said Hebron? Did he mean the Cave of the Patriarchs - or at least the Jewish space in what is now a giant mosque complex? Or did he also mean the fingernail of land in the Arab city of 100,000 held by the few hundred, clenched-jaw Jewish residents of Hebron, who cling tenaciously to their houses under the protection of scores of soldiers and Border Guard police officers? Can you leave one and protect the other? The precedent of "virtual" control over sacred space exists, after all, right in Jerusalem. Despite nominal Israeli control over the Temple Mount, it is functionally run by the Palestinian Waqf with Jordanian participation. The government has tolerated that relationship ever since the IDF liberated the Old City of Jerusalem in 1967. A similar arrangement is theoretically possible in Hebron, at least with an ironclad agreement. Domestic polls consistently show a similarly nuanced position about territory. A majority of the public supports both withdrawal from Gaza and the controversial plan to add 3,500 apartments between Jerusalem and the community of more than 20,000 of Maaleh Adumim, east of the capital. The city of Hebron has an important Jewish history, but giving back a few dwellings in the heart of the largest Arab city between the Jordan and the Mediterranean doesn't bother me much. Giving back Hebron's sacred spaces would be painful. It isn’t all or nothing, and never has been.