Initially, the idea of my wife and I having to spend Shabbat in a hospital, sleeping on a pull-out sofa in a room with another roommate and her baby, was beyond unappealing. What would be with food, privacy, sleep, prayers, etc.? And we all know that Israel is not so famous for its customer service.

On an average day, Sharei Tzedek is bustling with action. I learned an interesting fact. Sinai hospital, where our other kids were born, delivers approximately 2,300 babies a year. Sharei Tzedek delivers approximately 23,000 babies a year. The main floor/atrium is packed with people coming and going. There are a ton of restaurants, coffee shops, bakeries, ice cream shops, gift shops, banks, and grocery stores. The hustle and bustle can be rather overwhelming.

As I walked into the hospital Friday afternoon, with the sun rapidly setting along the beautiful Jerusalem skyline, the transformation from weekday to Shabbat was very apparent. The stores were closed, and there was complete tranquility. The minimal foot traffic included Chasidim walking around in their big furry streimels, others dressed in white shirts, Shabbat dresses, etc. All the elevators were on Shabbat mode. Shabbat candle stands were set up on each floor. There were signs posted throughout the hospital with a list of the numerous times of prayer services, accommodating the various customs of when to pray. Shabbat was certainly in the air. I had heard about this “Ohel-tent” that has meals for Shabbat and that it was something to see and experience. More about that soon. This hospital was transformed from a super busy hospital into what now felt like a Shabbat hotel, simply due to the onset of Shabbat.

When I arrived at the shul on the 8th floor, I was reminded of what it is like to be at the Kotel on a Friday night. A minyan here, a minyan there, one big one in the main shul, one in the hall, one on the outdoor balcony overlooking the skyline. Each one trying to be a bit louder than the other one so they could be heard. Of course, I chose the outdoor one. As I looked around, I immediately noticed that this was not an ordinary minyan. Some were wearing hospital gowns, some in wheelchairs, some had IVs and others had tubes coming out of them. One young man was lying in a hospital bed, clearly in a very serious condition, unable to even lift his head, yet he was praying with his hands pointed towards the heavens. There were doctors and nurses in scrubs. Soldiers in uniform, all shades of religious garb with the common theme that they were stuck in the hospital for various reasons, as a patient, a guest, an employee. As we all prayed together as one voice, singing songs welcoming in the Shabbat, I couldn’t help but think that G-D was looking down at His nation beaming with pride at this unique minyan.

I had made up to meet Sarah and Yonatan (our newborn) downstairs so we could go to the tent for Shabbat dinner. As we got closer to the tent, we saw dozens and dozens of staff and guests holding plastic bags with tons of food heading back into the hospital. As we walked up to the tent, we saw tables and tables of prepackaged Shabbat food including challot, wine, grape juice, dips, main courses, desserts, fruit, etc., all packaged up for those that needed to work or had loved ones who couldn’t make it into the tent.

As we walked into the huge tent, we were greeted by a man welcoming us and inviting us to choose a table. The tables were fully set like we were at a hotel, with our waiter standing nearby welcoming us. I had to pinch myself that I was in a hospital for Shabbat. As I began to make Kiddush, I was asked to wait so I could make Kiddush for others who didn’t have someone there to make Kiddush for them, including kids, mothers of newborns, older folks, some in wheelchairs, etc. We were immediately connected as one, sanctifying the holy day together over some fine Shilo wine. We truly felt like we were transcended into a Shabbat hotel program. I asked who was in charge so I could understand what was happening here. Who was paying for all this? He told me that it was all done through donations. I told him that I wanted to donate too. He told me, “It’s Shabbat, not now, just enjoy.” There was zero solicitation at any point. I still have no idea the name of the organization, as this was all done with zero fanfare or need for any recognition. All the staff and waiters were volunteers. Most of them were from one yeshiva who are there every week working as waiters.

As we walked back up to our hospital ward, I was greeted by a guy with a ponytail, multiple ear piercings, tzitzit dangling out, no shoes, saying “Tzadik—mashihu l’shtot, l’echol?” (“Righteous one, something to drink or eat?”). There were groups of people pushing carts throughout the hall, offering snacks and drinks. The nurse’s station was surrounded by Shabbat candles, homemade cakes that people seemed to be sharing with others, books of Torah, and parsha magazines scattered throughout. At the desk was a doctor or nurse with a stethoscope around his neck studying what looked like the weekly Torah portion. We gained a newfound appreciation for the doctors and nurses that leave their families on Shabbat to work. The medical care and attention came from the heart, as if we were being treated by family. The staff included Sarah’s cousin, a friend of mine’s daughter, and a close friend from Efrat, all who took the time to hang out with us throughout the day.

Everyone was greeting each other with Shabbat Shalom, or Gut Shabbos. Each unit has someone dressed in purple scrubs, who is the designated “Shabbos goy” who walks the floor turning on and off lights, adjusting beds and anything else that is needed.

We then met our roommate who was just admitted. She too had an infant that needed to be hospitalized. She told us that her husband was home with her kids, as he needed to go back into the army again on Sunday for the next 2 months, for his 3rd round of reserve duty. She is from Kfar Etzion, the next town over from us. Sarah and she immediately became friends and we switched off watching each other’s kids throughout the day. Volunteers walked the halls, offering to make Kiddush for those that couldn’t leave their rooms. Shabbat afternoon included a group of new French immigrants who came around with a coffee cart, offering coffee, cake, and fruit.

As Shabbat came to an end, Havdala, the ceremony that marks the symbolic end of the Shabbat, could be heard throughout the hospital, as we ushered in the week ahead and the chaos and the chaotic times that we are currently living under.

As we were leaving the hospital on Sunday afternoon, outside of the children’s unit was a group of teenage volunteers that were setting up a popcorn, waffle, and cotton candy cart, all free to whoever passed by.

Thank G-d we are now back home from our Shabbat hotel/hospital experience feeling full of pride to be part of our incredibly special nation. Tonight, as I tucked in one of our children, I looked out her window towards the skyline in the distance, as we can see most of the cities in the center of the country and ponder if tonight will be the night of the big potential war in the north. G-D, please remember how special your children are, and how we try our best to look out for each other.

I hope that You will do the same too…