The Wells We Dig Every Day

This week we read about our forefathers digging wells. Everything our forefathers did presaged our lives. In many ways, they paved the roads that we travel today. Jewish mystics have often said that we dig for water not only in the ground but also in our soul, so let’s examine these soul wells.

The Talmud (Bechoros 55a) teaches that all rivers derive their waters from the Euphrates. Modern science has not linked the Euphrates to the world’s major rivers. Each has its own water source and basin.

The Talmud adds: Mountain springs that emerge well above the water table are fed by subterranean waterways that flow from the Euphrates. Subterranean waterways are real: rivers can disappear into sinkholes, travel underground, and emerge many kilometers away. Nevertheless, explaining the geology of this Talmudic teaching is beyond my pay grade. All I can offer is a mystical interpretation.

Four Rivers from Eden
The Torah describes the original four rivers that flowed from Eden to water the Garden (Genesis 2:10). The fourth was the Euphrates, which the Torah describes as a great river (Genesis 15:18).

Eden is the source of all spiritual pleasure. By contrast, rivers are the source of material pleasure (because they water the plains, causing many types of delights to grow). When the Torah says that the waters flow from Eden, it means that worldly pleasures, stimulating as they are, derive from a higher form of pleasure: Eden, spiritual pleasure.

When we perceive all pleasurable activity as waterways through which spiritual pleasure flows, our entire mindset changes. We wake up in the morning and immerse our minds in Heavenly thoughts. We contemplate G-d, His vastness, His relationship with the universe, how He constantly recreates it, and how He alone is the sole cause of our existence. This is called dipping our minds into Eden.

With this perspective, life looks different. Rather than simply earning money, providing for our needs, and enjoying our day, we recognize that everything we do manifests a higher pleasure. Every river we sail carries waters from Eden, designed to help us connect with G-d. When we perceive the rivers as carriers of Eden’s waters, the river does what G-d prescribed in the Torah. It waters the garden.

Gan, Hebrew for garden, has a numerical value of 53, the precise number of portions in the Torah. When we begin our day with G-dly thoughts, our entire day centers around Torah study. We know we will need to go to work, serve clients, negotiate with suppliers, organize minutiae, worry about money, etc. But all these activities are expressions of the higher pleasure that we have contemplated in the morning.

In the morning, this is so clear to us that we don’t go to work or eat after prayer. We first sit down to delight in Torah study. It is our entire day. It is our sole purpose. We indulge in the Torah for several moments before stepping out.

This is the ideological dimension of the Talmud’s description of the Euphrates. All the waters of the world are fed by the Euphrates, which flows from Eden. Every engagement in life, every responsibility in life, every pleasurable activity we pursue, all flow from Eden. They are all pale caricatures of the true delight.

The Well Springs
We now turn to the wellsprings that appear on mountaintops many kilometers above the river. The Talmud tells us that these are fed by underground waterways that carve a path through the porous topography until they emerge as wellsprings. The Torah calls these wellsprings living waters on account of their exceptional purity.

Let’s summarize. Wellsprings are surprising on two accounts. (A) They pop up with no discernible water source. (B) Their waters are pure and refreshing.

Let’s unpack this from a spiritual perspective. We learned that when we wake up in the morning, we place ourselves in a holy mindset by reflecting on G-d, meditating, praying, and studying the Torah.

However, at some point we leave the synagogue and go to work. The phone starts ringing, the clients start dropping in, the meetings pile up, and the workload increases. Amidst this tumult, there seems to be no space in our minds for G-d. The peaceful center we created in the morning seems to have dissolved. We might recreate it at night, after work, but night is hours away. Right now, our souls are parched. We are in a spiritual desert, steeped in business and forgetting about G-d.

Suddenly, in the middle of this vast wasteland, a wellspring of the purest, most refreshing water pops up. I refer to Mitzvah opportunities that crop up in the middle of the day. Immersion in business might make Torah study unfeasible, but Mitzvah opportunities show up everywhere. It might be an opportunity to give charity to the poor, or a break to a client with a large family. It might be the blessing you recite before eating. It might be ducking out for fifteen minutes to recite your afternoon prayer.

You are miles from a river, somewhere on a vast barren mountain, yet a wellspring has appeared. You resist it at first. There will be time aplenty later. Right now, you are busy. You predict that taking time out will damage your business. Then you remember where your mind was in the morning and how far you have strayed. You remember that the same G-d you contemplated in the morning is with you here in the afternoon. You recognize the Mitzvah opportunity as a portal of connection, offered like a lifeline to a drowning person.

This is where you dig. You push through resistance, excuses, and business pressures to reach the wellspring. And you grab the lifeline and hold on with glee. You insist on taking your time and doing the Mitzvah right. You focus on the Mitzvah as a portal to G-d dropped into your lap by a loving Father in Heaven. A little poke that says, take a look, I am hiding right inside this Mitzvah. Come, find Me.

Pure Water
We learned that these wellsprings are filled with pure, refreshing water. These waters are clear and pure because the subterranean debris they traverse filters them. They seep through silt and sand, push past pebbles and stones, and wash over boulders. The debris traps their impurities, and the waters emerge pristine.

In the morning, prayer and Torah study take place in an environment that naturally supports our spiritual focus. But in the afternoon, we need to fight back against massive resistance to embrace the Mitzvah opportunities that G-d throws our way.

But we push back and persevere. We perform the Mitzvah with enthusiasm and joy. The resistance we overcome acts like a filtration system, purifying our connection with G-d. This creates some of our purest and most nourishing bonds with Him.

It is like praying in an airport. Prayer in the synagogue flows easily. The chorus of voices is like a raging river. But prayer in an airport, surrounded by people who don’t know you, requires firm determination and deep connection. It is harder to pray under such conditions, but the inspiration we gain is clear and pure like living waters.