Judas Cave lies tucked within the honeycombed limestone of Qarah Mountain, a place where the desert light fractures across pale cliffs and the air cools as you step into the mountain’s interior. The mountain itself rises just outside the urbanized part of Al‑Hasa (N.E. Arabia). Its fluted ridges and narrow passages inviting the kind of stories that cling to landscapes older than memory. Travelers approaching the site often remark that it feels like a place waiting to be explained.
Local tradition offers one such explanation. For generations, people in the region have whispered that this particular cavern sheltered Judas Iscariot after his betrayal of Jesus, and that he died somewhere in its depths. But the story has not always centered on Judas. Accounts from the 1920s record that residents once associated the same cave with the patriarch Abraham, suggesting that the mountain has, across successive periods, been persistently linked to narratives embedded within the biblical tradition.
What the landscape gives in mood, however, it withholds in evidence. No archaeological, historical, or biblical record confirms any link between the cave and Judas Iscariot. The name “Judas Cave” appears to arise from local folklore rather than verifiable history. Unfortunately, no serious research has attempted to distinguish provable truths from this legend, leaving the cave suspended between geology and myth.
And yet, as scholars of oral tradition often note, legends rarely emerge from nothing. They tend to gather around features that feel significant—an unusual rock formation, a hidden chamber, a mountain that seems to breathe when the wind moves through it. Whether or not Judas ever set foot here, the cave continues to draw visitors who sense that somewhere beneath the layers of story, the landscape is holding on to something older and more fascinating, waiting for someone patient enough to listen.
Moving beyond the chamber associated with the Judas legend, I followed a narrow fissure that opened into a wider corridor. The rock here is dry and pale, its surfaces smoothed by millennia of wind and water. It is striking how often visitors call this place a “mountain,” when in truth it is not a mountain at all. Qarah is technically a plateau—flat for kilometers on its upper surface—its dramatic cliffs and passages carved not by height but by erosion patiently working the edges of a raised table of stone. From above, the plateau looks unassuming, almost level with the surrounding terrain. But from within, it becomes a geological wonder: a labyrinth of natural rock walls, interconnected passages, and sudden chambers where the light pools in soft, golden patches. The contrast between the flat summit and the sculpted interior feels almost like a secret the land is keeping.
Cave of Abraham
Harold Richard Dickson—one of the most perceptive British administrators to wander the Arabian Peninsula in the early twentieth century—made his way to Qara Mountain during his years in the region. There, he descended into a cavern he referred to as “the Cave of Abraham,” a name drawn from the stories circulating among the people of Al‑Ahsa at the time.
Today, that same place is more commonly known as “the Cave of Judas,” yet Dickson’s account in “Kuwait and Her Neighbours” preserves an earlier layer of its folklore. In his vivid retelling of his journey through Al‑Ahsa, he tries to understand why local tradition linked this mountain to the patriarch Abraham?. What emerges is a sense of a site whose identity has shifted across generations—its chambers echoing with associations to biblical figures, from Abraham to Judas, each era leaving its own imprint on the mountain’s mythology.
Al‑Hasa, a unique place
Geographically, Al‑Aḥsāʾ is situated approximately 80 km inland from the historic port of ʿUqayr on the Arabian Gulf.
Al‑Hasa (Al‑Aḥsāʾ ), historically constituted as a constellation of adjacent small towns—often described in earlier sources as villages—forms one of the most extensive and ancient oasis settlements of eastern Arabia.
At the core of this settlement complex lies Qāra Village, generally regarded as the oldest continuously inhabited locality within the oasis.
The entire region is enveloped by a dense expanse of date‑palm groves, creating the impression of a vast, contiguous oasis set within the surrounding red‑sand desert.
The most distinctive natural features of Al‑Aḥsāʾ—those that differentiate it from the broader Arabian Peninsula—are its numerous large artesian springs and the extensive spring‑fed watercourses that historically sustained both agriculture and settlement.
In recent decades, however, many of these springs and channels have ceased to flow. A principal contributing factor is the intensive extraction of groundwater associated with the regional petroleum industry, which consumes substantial volumes of freshwater for drilling operations and simultaneously brings to the surface millions of gallons of ancient, deep‑aquifer water entrained with crude oil.
The oasis is also marked by striking sedimentary rock formations produced through the long‑term deposition of wind‑ and water‑borne sand grains, subsequently compacted and cemented by mineral processes over geological timescales. These formations frequently exhibit vivid stratification and are sculpted into cavities and hollows by aeolian and fluvial erosion.
By the late nineteenth century, three of Al‑Aḥsāʾ’s historic towns had coalesced into a single urban entity known as al‑Hufūf.
Adjacent to this emerging center, a formerly barren tract used as a staging ground for desert caravans developed into the modern town of al‑Mubarraz.
Today, al‑Hufūf and al‑Mubarraz function as “twin cities”—administratively distinct municipalities whose urban fabrics have expanded into a continuous metropolitan zone.
North of this conurbation lies al‑ʿUyūn, an ancient settlement that has likewise undergone rapid modernization and now constitutes the third principal municipality of the oasis.
In contemporary usage, Al‑Aḥsāʾ serves as an umbrella toponym encompassing the al‑Hufūf/al‑Mubarraz twin‑city complex, the city of al‑ʿUyūn, and the older villages and palm‑cultivation zones extending eastward from the modern urban core.
Meaningful names
Qara Mountain rises at the threshold of a landscape that has long served as a meeting point between oasis life and the open steppe. Its name, “the mountain of Qara,” anchors it to the village that once lay at its feet—a modest rural settlement whose rhythms were shaped by agriculture, seasonal movement, and the deep geological corridors of AL‑Hasa. Over time, however, Qara’s position within the region shifted. As the metropolitan sphere of AL‑Hasa expanded outward, the village was gradually absorbed into a peri‑urban belt, becoming what scholars now describe as an “urban village”: a community suspended between its agrarian past and the infrastructural pull of the modern city.
Within local memory, the mountain is not known simply as Qara but by the older name Šabʿān (شبعان). This designation preserves a linguistic stratum that predates the village’s recent transformations. The final element ‑ān in Šabʿān is a characteristic toponymic ending in Semitic place‑names, echoed in formations such as ʿAmmān in Jordan and Kamarān off the Yemeni coast. The name itself is rooted in the ancient Semitic lexeme Š‑B (or S‑P in comparative reconstruction), a root whose descendants still circulate in the spoken Arabic of AL‑Hasa.
These cognates: sīb (سيب), the natural passage carved through bedrock by flowing water; šhīb (شيب), the long, pliant hosepipe; šaʿīb (شعيب), the deep valley or glen; and sabīl (سبيل), the path or passage—evoke a landscape shaped by channels, conduits, and the movement of water and people. Even the fused suffix ‑īl in sabīl hints at older morphological layers in which the phonemes /l/ and /n/ could alternate freely, a diachronic fluidity mirrored in the shifting identities of the places themselves.
Thus, the story of Qara Mountain is not only geological or geographical; it is linguistic and historical. The mountain stands as a witness to the evolution of its surroundings—from ancient Semitic naming practices to the contemporary reconfiguration of rural space into metropolitan fringe. In its names, both Qara and Šabʿān, the mountain preserves the memory of a landscape in transition, carrying forward traces of the region’s deep past even as the modern city encroaches upon its slopes.
“Moghor” of Palgrave
Another traditional name, (or description), for this formation is al‑maghāyir (المغاير), “the caves,” a name that captures both its physical structure and its long history as a place of shelter, rumor, and imagination. William Gifford Palgrave, who passed through Al‑Hasa in 1863, transliterated the name as “Moghor,” noting even then how the people of the region spoke of these hollows with a mixture of familiarity and reverence. Standing here now, I can see why. The passages feel ancient, but not abandoned; shaped by nature, yet somehow receptive to human stories.
According to Palgrave:
“North-east of Hasa rises a long isolated ridge,basalt and sandstone, about four hundred feet in height; its cliffs are pierced in every direction by large natural caverns, and their name, (Moghor) or (caves) has become synonymous with the mountain itself. Within these caves the air is cool, even during the hottest months of the year; and fresh water flows in a perennial supply at the mountain foot.”
“Hither accordingly the merchants and business-men of Hasa would repair when wearied of their accounts and ledger-books, and pass together a few days in the caverns of Moghor, amid the ease of familiar conversation, well-furnished tables, music, dancing, and whatever like diversions even thinking men often allow themselves when tired with hard and sedentary work.”
“I need hardly say that domestic furniture is here much more varied and refined than what adorns the dwellings of Sedeyr and ’Aared; and the stools, low dinner-tables, cup boards, shelves, and bedsteads, are very like the fittings-up of a respectable Hindoo house at Baroda or Cambay. Wood-carving is also common ; it finds its usual place on door-posts and window-frames ;lastly, decorative figures painted on the walls, though not absolutely equal to the frescoes of Giotto or Ghirlandajo, yet suffice to give the rooms a more cheerful and, if I may be allowed the expression, a more Christian took than the unvarying brown and white daub of the apartments in ‘Aared and Kaseem.”
Little‑known fact: even the fiercest creatures—snakes, scorpions, predators and all harbingers of danger—seem to lose their nerve on this mountain. You, (yes you), bring one here and watch it recoil, as if the very stones whisper a warning that sends them trembling back into the desert. Ancient peoples once dwelled within these stone chambers, were protected by a presence that felt nothing short of divine (وَمَن دَخَلَهُ كَانَ آمِنا). What they experienced was no mere legend—this strange force, can in fact be traced and explained through science.
Judas Iscariot
According to Christianity’s four canonical gospels, was one of the original Twelve Apostles of Jesus Christ. Judas betrayed Jesus to the Sanhedrin in the Garden of Gethsemane, in exchange for thirty pieces of silver, by kissing him on the cheek and addressing him as “master” to reveal his identity in the darkness to the crowd who had come to arrest him. Judas’s betrayal led to Jesus being “handed over” to the Jewish authorities and then to the Romans for crucifixion. Connecting Qara caves to this biblical story is believed to be a “folktale”. Unfortunately, no serious research has attempted to distinguish provable truths from this legend.
Some of the denotations of the word “Judas”, in Semitic languages, are: “hand”, “to hand” or “to hand over”.
Judas colors
The colors associated with Judas are yellow and red. Historically, yellow became the color of betrayal and deceit due to its symbolic association with Judas Iscariot in Christian art.
Medieval paintings frequently depicted Judas with red hair, which led to the adjective “Judas-colored” referring to red hair.
Interestingly enough, the color of Qarah mountain is yellowish-red.
Judas of Central Arabia
Modern English “Judas” replaced Middle English “iudas“. The latter is an adoption of Latin “iudas“, which is a Latinization of Ancient Greek “Ἰούδας” (ioúdas).
The Greek name Ἰούδας (ioudas) is a transliteration and a common Greek form of the Hebrew name “יְהוּדָה” (Yehudah),
Judas in Hebrew is: “Yehudah” (יְהוּדָה)
Judas in Arabic is: “Yehuḏah” (يهوذا).
“Cave of Judas” in Arabic is: “Cahf Yehuḏah” (كهف يهوذا)
A legendary pre-Islamic leader of Central Arabia was a Nestorian Christian man, known by the name of: Yehuḏah The Hanafi (يهوذا الحنفي/Judas al-hanafi). This Arabic Judas was a leader of the Christian Najd, shortly before the advent of Islam.
Evidently, the name: “Judas” is not “new” to this part of the world.
Kernel of truth
As it has been said, “every legend has a kernel of truth”. Real historical events, people, or practices are often preserved and transmitted through exaggerated, symbolic, or fictionalized stories that become part of a culture’s mythology and folktales. Over time, the line between factual history and legendary narrative blurs.
The Arabian Peninsula is deeply woven into biblical narratives as the ancestral homeland of peoples descended from Abraham (Ishmael, Keturah’s sons like Midian, Sheba), a vital trade route for wealthy kingdoms (Sheba, Dedan), and a setting for key events like Moses’s time in Midian (Northwestern Arabia), and St. Paul’s preaching in Arabia (Galatians 1:17).
Why did Paul go to Arabia for 3 years? to meet with Jesus?:
It is therefore entirely plausible—indeed, well within the broader patterns of Late Antique religious itinerancy—to posit that Judas, much like the paradigmatic figures of Moses, Elijah, and Paul, may have spent his final period of life within the Arabian sphere. Such a hypothesis aligns with the long‑attested tradition of prophetic or apostolic withdrawal into the Arabian Peninsula as a locus of revelation, ascetic discipline, and transitional vocation.
Identifications of biblical sites
The attempt to correlate biblical narratives with fixed geographical locations has long been recognized as one of the most methodologically unstable domains within biblical scholarship.
As works such as Site Identification: A Problem Area in Contemporary Biblical Scholarship have underscored, the evidentiary basis for securely identifying most biblical sites is exceedingly thin. Almost no locations can be established beyond historical doubt.
For the majority of sites, proposed identifications rest on late traditions, retrospective harmonizations, or the inertia of ecclesiastical memory rather than on contemporaneous first‑millennium BCE evidence. The remaining rely on convergences of textual, archaeological, and geographical data that are rarely replicated elsewhere.
Critical scholarship typically isolates one pivotal factor in the formation of this unstable topographical landscape: the fourth‑century imperial project initiated under Constantine. In the 320s, the emperor dispatched his mother, Helena, to the Levant to locate and authenticate places associated with the biblical narrative. This mission—undertaken nearly three centuries after the events it sought to commemorate—became the foundational moment for the Christian sacralization of the Holy Land.
Yet Helena’s identifications, including the True Cross and the Holy Sepulchre, are widely regarded as historically problematic, not only because of the chronological gap but also because of the epistemic mode through which these sites were recognized. The sources emphasize visionary, miraculous, or revelatory mechanisms of discovery rather than criteria that would satisfy modern historiographic or archaeological standards. While her efforts resulted in monumental constructions such as the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, the underlying “discoveries” appear to reflect the crystallization of late antique legend rather than the recovery of first‑century memory.
Why This Matters for Methodology
The Helena episode is not merely an antiquarian curiosity; it exposes a structural problem in biblical topography. Once Constantine’s imperial patronage endowed certain locations with ecclesiastical authority, these sites became self‑validating through liturgy, pilgrimage, and architectural monumentalization. Over time, the authority of tradition overshadowed the absence of early evidence. As a result:
- Late antique identifications became retrojected into earlier periods, creating the illusion of continuity where none can be demonstrated.
- Archaeological layers were interpreted through the lens of pre‑existing tradition, rather than tradition being tested against material evidence.
- Alternative locations, even when philologically or geographically plausible, were marginalized because they lacked the weight of ecclesiastical memory.
This dynamic means that biblical topography often operates within a closed evidentiary loop, where tradition authenticates the site and the site reinforces the tradition, leaving little room for independent verification.
Consequences for Contemporary Scholarship
The methodological limits that arise from this historical trajectory have several implications:
- Textual evidence is frequently too general, too late, or too etiological to anchor precise geographical identifications.
- Archaeological evidence rarely aligns neatly with biblical chronology, and when it does, the correlation is often circumstantial rather than demonstrative.
- Toponymic continuity cannot be assumed, as place‑names shift, migrate, or are repurposed across centuries.
- Late antique Christian site‑memory exerts disproportionate influence, shaping modern assumptions even when unsupported by earlier strata.
Thus, the field must operate with a high degree of epistemic caution. The identification of biblical sites is not impossible, but it is constrained by the fragmentary nature of the evidence and by the powerful gravitational pull of late antique tradition.
It is all shrouded in mystery!
In 1999, archaeologist Professor Zev Helsog from the Tel Aviv University published an article in the Hit Daily which shook not just the academic world but the entire Israeli society: “What I claimed there, not that there is no evidence, but I claimed that there is a lot of archaeological evidence that presents us a picture which is contradicting the biblical stories“. Herzog writes in his article what archaeologists have learned from their excavations in the land of Israel: “Side by side we found more and more indications that the biblical historiography and the biblical history are compiled in much later period and they express the ideas and the beliefs and the understanding of these writers in later period, how they imagined and how they reconstructed their own past. But the past we now know, as we know it from Archaeology, was entirely different.“
Historicity of Jesus
Scholars distinguish between the ‘Christ of faith‘ as presented in the New Testament and a minimal ‘Jesus of history‘, of whom almost nothing can be known. (Wikipedia).
[09:03] :”Despite all that, it is quite possible that Jesus existed, but there is no credible evidence, that he would have been anything more than some Middle Eastern rabbi around him a legend was built.”.
Accordingly, Jesus could have been from any “backwater region” or “outback” area in the Middle East, such as Al-Hasa.
Jesus’ crucifixion place
It often comes as a surprise to non‑specialists that the precise location of Jesus’ crucifixion remains a matter of scholarly debate.
While the Gospels explicitly state that Jesus was crucified at a place called Golgotha, they only describe its location as being “outside the city gate” or near the city, without naming it as “Jerusalem” in every account. Subsequent exegetical traditions increasingly came to identify this city with Jerusalem.
The toponym associated with the site appears first in the Greek Gospels as Γολγοθᾶ (Golgothâ). This form is generally understood as a straightforward transliteration of an underlying Semitic term, conventionally connected with Hebrew גֻּלְגֹּלֶת (gulgōlet), “skull, cranium, head.” The noun is well attested in Biblical Hebrew; for example, Numbers 1:2 employs the expression לְגֻלְגְּלֹתָם (legulgĕlōtām), “head by head,” in the context of a census enumeration.
According to standard etymological analysis, gulgōlet derives from the reduplicated Semitic root גלל (g‑l‑l), whose basic semantic field concerns circularity or rolling. Its Hebrew derivatives include גָּלִיל (galil), “a turning, circuit,” גַּל (gal), “heap, mound,” and the feminine noun גֻּלָּה (gullā), “bowl, basin.”
The latter has a well‑established Arabic cognate, قُلَّة (qulla, also gulla or julla), whose semantic range encompasses “cranium, skull, head,” as well as “bowl, container, clay jar.”
These cognate sets collectively reinforce the semantic association between roundness and the human cranium within the broader Semitic lexicon.
Linguistic sources—including the analysis presented by Abarim Publications—note that the Greek forms of the name grammatically denote “the place of a skull” and thus presuppose a Semitic original with this meaning.
On this basis, the traditional interpretation that Jesus was executed at a site known as “Skull” or “Head” is philologically well grounded.
The New Testament, however, offers no explicit topographical description of the location.
Subsequent Christian tradition came to depict Golgothâ as a rounded or sloping elevation whose physical appearance evoked the shape of a human skull.
Modern scholarship sometimes refers to this explanatory framework as the “Physical‑appearance theory” which proposes that the designation arose because the site resembled a skull—perhaps a rocky outcrop marked by hollowed or cavernous features.
As mentioned, although the toponym Γολγοθᾶ / Golgotha is philologically transparent, its precise locus remains a matter of sustained scholarly dispute.
No consensus has emerged regarding its exact location. The traditional identification situates Golgotha within the complex now encompassed by the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, specifically in a southern chapel that, according to late antique Christian tradition, marks the spot recognized by the empress Helena during her pilgrimage to Palestine in 325.
This fourth‑century imperial attribution—embedded within Constantine’s broader program of Christian monumentalization—has exerted enormous influence on subsequent ecclesiastical memory, even as its historical reliability remains debated.
Alternative proposals have periodically gained traction. In the nineteenth century, Protestant scholars, motivated in part by confessional skepticism toward Helena’s discoveries, advanced a competing identification near the Garden Tomb on the so‑called Green Hill (later “Skull Hill”), approximately 500 meters north of the traditional site. More recently, the historian Joan Taylor has argued for a location roughly 175 meters to the south‑southeast of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre’s traditional Calvary. These divergent proposals illustrate the challenges inherent in reconstructing the sacred topography, and render Golgotha’s precise location an open and contested question.
In summation: Jesus was executed on a hill known as “cranium” “Skull” or “Head”
Christian tradition depicts Jesus’ crucifixion place as a rounded or sloping elevation whose physical appearance evoked the shape of a human skull.
According to Physical‑appearance theory: “the crucifixion place resembled a skull—perhaps a rocky outcrop marked by hollowed or cavernous features.“
Clearly, This description corresponds closely to Ras Qara (رأس قارة) in al‑Aḥsāʾ, a geomorphologically distinctive sandstone monolith characterized by a hollowed, sloping interior and an emergent rocky outcrop at its summit.
⬇️ An aerial perspective of Ras Qara (رأس قارة), highlighting its morphological configuration and its striking resemblance to a human face and cranial profile.
The toponym raʾs (رأس), “head” or “cranium” is the regular Arabic reflex of Proto‑Semitic raʾš‑, and is formally cognate with Hebrew rōʾš (רֹאשׁ).
The element qāra (قارة) designates a large boulder, rocky mass, or isolated monolithic formation; its semantic field aligns with the broader Semitic and Sumerian lexeme kur, denoting a mountain, highland, or prominent rocky elevation.
Goatha
According to biblical scholar Johann Ludwig Krafft, the place where Jesus Christ was crucified has another name, which is: Goatha or Goath.
This toponym, can be found only in Hasa, pronounced “Juatha/جوثا” and “Juath/جواث”. (Also transliterated as “Jawatha”.)
In Proto-Semitic, the consonant [ɡ] was a hard voiced velar plosive, similar to the ‘g‘ in “game”. In Classical Arabic, this sound became palatalized to an affricate [d͡ʒ] (like the ‘j‘ in “jam”)
Semitic: [ ɡ ] → Arabic: [ j ]
A Jewish state in Al-hasa?*
In September 1917, Lord Francis Bertie, British Ambassador to France, received an unusual proposal from Dr M L Rothstein, a Paris-based Russian Jew.
Bertie explained to the Foreign Secretary, Arthur James Balfour, that Rothstein proposed the Entente Powers should equip and organize an army ‘for the conquest of El Hassa [ Al-hasa]’, an oasis region on the east coast of modern-day Saudi Arabia, for the ‘creation of a Jewish State on the Persian Gulf’.
Rothstein sets out his proposal thus: ‘I undertake to assemble, for next spring, a Jewish fighting troop, a force of 120,000 strong men’ which would double ‘in cooperation… with the troops of the Entente’. At first glance, he admits, his plan ‘may appear unrealistic’, but this would cease ‘as soon as the first thousand men have arrived on the scene’.
The troops would gather at Bahrain and, as soon they reached 30,000, a ‘coup de main’ (swift attack) would ensue, taking the ‘Turkish province of Al Hassa, near the Persian Gulf’, which ‘will become a Jewish State (un État juif)’. He predicts an ensuing ‘state of war’ with Turkey due to the invasion. Therefore, ‘the Jewish troops will immediately enter into a campaign… until the final victory of the Entente or until their destruction’.
The British rejected Rothstein’s plan outright, dismissing it as ‘wholly inappropriate’. Balfour’s private secretary wrote to Bertie on 3 October 1917 requesting that he reply to Rothstein, informing him that the British government could not give effect to his proposal.
Besides his self-description as a ‘Russian medical doctor’ and a 1938 description by Juda Tchernoff, little is known about Rothstein. He prefaces his proposal with his family’s ‘moral qualities’ and refers to Maurice Barrès who cites Rothstein’s son, Amédée, a young Russian Zionist, in his book Les Diverses familles spirituelles de la France. Although Barrès was a famous anti-Dreyfusard and popularised French nationalism, he considered Amédée as exemplifying Jewish loyalty to France due to his patriotic death at the Battle of Verdun in 1916.
*From British Library Blog.
Sacralized structure
At this juncture, the unavoidable line of inquiry concerns the underlying rationale. What, precisely, motivated certain segments of the European Jewish leadership in 1917 to contemplate the establishment of a Jewish polity in al‑Hasa? What ideological or symbolic framework could account for the willingness of approximately 120,000 Jewish soldiers to risk—and in many cases to forfeit—their lives in connection with the Al‑Ahsa theatre? Such phenomena are unlikely to be explicable solely in terms of geopolitical opportunism or imperial strategy. Rather, they suggest the presence of a deeper, perhaps sacralized, motivational structure—one in which religious memory, scriptural geography, or eschatological imaginaries may have played a constitutive role.
The burial place of Abraham
Prior to the period of the Crusades (c. 1095–1291), the precise location of the burial place of Abraham was not known with certainty. During their occupation of the Levant, certain Crusader groups—on questionable grounds—identified a site in what is now the West Bank as the burial place of the patriarchs, designating it in their Gothic vernacular as: Abram de baron. Over time, this site, which became venerated as sacred, developed into a thriving settlement known as: Habron.
The choice of this name, (Habron), appears to have been motivated by the association made in Genesis 23:1–2, which states: “1. And Sarah was one hundred and twenty-seven years old: these were the years of the life of Sarah. And Sarah died in Kirjath-arba; the same is Hebron, in the land of Canaan.”
The adoption of this name appears to reflect a literal reading of Genesis 23:1–2, which equates the burial place with a place named: Hebron.
When Muslim authorities later regained control of the region, they adopted the Crusader attribution and referred to the site as Ibrāhīm al-Khalīl (“Abraham, the Friend [of God]”), commonly shortened to al-Khalīl (الخليل).
In subsequent centuries, many Jewish devotees —acting in good faith— came to revere this location as the shrine of Avraham Avinu (“Our Father Abraham”), accepting the erroneous traditional identification without critical examination.. To date, no major scholarly consensus has challenged the association of Abraham’s burial place with the modern city of Hebron.
Hebron or Shechem?
In (Genesis 23:1–20 KJV), the burial place is in a region called: “Hebron”.
In (Acts 7:16), the burial place is in a region called: “Shechem”.
Hebron is not Shechem.
Tyndale New Testament Commentaries, explain more:
“The relation of the story of the burial to the Old Testament traditions is complicated. According to (the New Testament), they were all buried at Shechem in the tomb that Abraham had bought from the sons of Hamor. According to Genesis 49: 29–32; 50:13 Jacob was buried in the cave of Machpelah near Hebron which Abraham had bought from Ephron the Hittite (Gn. 23). Joseph was buried at Shechem (Jos. 24:32) in land which Jacob had bought from the sons of Hamor (Gn. 33:18–20). Josephus states that Jacob’s other sons (and, by implication, Jacob himself) were buried at Hebron (Jos., Ant. 2:199), and this tradition is also found in Jubilees and the Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs. There was a local tradition at Shechem that the twelve sons of Jacob were buried there. It thus appears that Stephen, (in the New Testament), differs from the Old Testament account in that he locates the tomb which Abraham bought at Shechem, not Hebron, and in that he adds the detail about the brothers of Joseph being buried there also.”.
According to the Old Testament, Abraham was buried in a place named:
“Kiryat Arba”, (Hebrew for: Town of the Four).
Arba (ארבע): in Hebrew means: Four (4).
Another name of this place is:
“The field of Machpelah”, or:
“The cave of Machpelah”.
Machpelah (מכפלה): according to the Targumim and the Septuagint, means: “the double”, ancient Greek: “διπλοῦν/ diploún”
In Rabbinical Literature: The name of “Machpelah” means: “the doubled one”.
In other words:
This town (Kiryat), is in a place named: “four” or “field of four”.
Named thus, because there are four distinguished rocky hills, in that field.
At “Al Ahsa”, there is a place called “bar Arba/بر أربع”.
“Bar/بر” in Arabic means: “leveled land” or field.
“Arba/أربع” in Arabic means: “Four (4)”.
Thus, “bar Arba” can be translated as: “Field of Four”…
Two of these rock-formations are “conjoined hills”, or “double-peak hill”, and this is exactly the intended contextual meaning of: “Machpelah”.
The double-peak hill contains several burial caves, but no one bothers to investigate them!
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