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The Tale of the Wells by Brett Krichiver, Student Rabbi Our tradition is made up of stories. You might know already that most of these stories come from a book we call Torah. But in reality, our stories come from many different sources: from rabbis in the 18th century, from mystical texts of the 19th century, even from modern day teachers and artists. Many stories are hinted at in the Torah, but the rabbis flesh them out for us years later, and their stories become our own. For me, being Jewish is mostly about these stories, being able to tell them, to learn from them, and to teach them. The book of Genesis is wonderful for telling stories. For years I have used this particular book to understand who God is, what God is, and what it is that we're supposed to do in the world. I'll be the first to admit that it's not always easy to find these lessons from stories - it may have been easier for God to just stick to writing law: do this, don't do this. But as we revisit these same stories over and over, we start to notice things we didn't see before, the text unfolds before us. Our stories challenge us, they push us to see our own lives in new ways, to grow, and to revisit our past. We see ourselves fulfilling new and different roles, we use the actions of our heroes and villains, to understand our own thoughts and desires. We carry forward the people and places that remind us who we are, and who we have been. Just a few weeks ago we began with the creation of man and woman. From then until now in the story, humanity hasn't really done much of anything right. We've disregarded God's command in the Garden of Eden, we've committed murder shortly thereafter, we've barely survived complete annihilation at the hand of an angry God who flooded the earth. Why is it that we read this book over and over again? Why subject ourselves to all this turmoil? Because this is our story, our personal story of growth, and the story of our family as it began to understand the world around itself. And because the story is about to change. When Abraham comes into the picture, we have become a people with a simple message to bring to the world. Through these chapters in the great book of our people, we hear the message of unity, of a connectedness that all humankind can feel if we slow down enough to listen to the still small voice inside. God is one, and that which is one - that which is unifying - is the only power worthy of our commitment. The question for us as modern Jews is this: can we use the stories of our famous ancestors: Abraham, Sarah, Isaac, Rebecca, Jacob and Leah and Rachel, to find meaning in our own lives? Do we see ourselves in the text? Is it relevant to us? How do we measure ourselves next to the greatest leaders our people have ever known? Fortunately, our leadership has always been flawed. That makes it much easier for us to relate to them. We have stories of anger, infidelity, dishonesty and weakness in every one of our biblical texts! But still we hold these characters up on a pedestal, they seem far from us, we don't know how to relate. Abraham certainly seems like the perfect role model, or does he? Can we place ourselves in his shoes, as he leads his own son up the mountain to be sacrificed? Perhaps not. Our other famous patriarch, Jacob, ends up running a household of thirteen kids, and not very well I might add. No, Jacob does not seem to be so approachable. So whose left? What about Isaac? The last we heard from Isaac, he was about to be sacrificed upon an altar, and although he is spared, the text tells us that Abraham comes down the mountain alone. What happened to the would-be sacrifice? Abraham returns to his servants, the text tells us, with no mention of Isaac. Some commentaries point out that perhaps Isaac was not as unharmed as the text would make us think. Perhaps he was a bit upset. Perhaps he was understandably upset! In fact, perhaps Isaac never recovers from his binding at the hands of his father. This theory is certainly supported by the stories that come after. Isaac goes into deep mourning as his mother dies. He doesn't even speak through the text for many years. When it is time for him to wed, Abraham must send a servant out to find his son a wife, suggesting that Isaac is too fragile to go himself. What kind of cultural icon is this Isaac? He appears to be the a weak link in the chain of tradition, definitely not a dynamic leader worthy of our respect. What can we learn about Isaac from other stories? Of our three ancestral fathers (our three forefathers, if you will) we have perhaps the most stories about Abraham. Even in our liturgy, although all three are mentioned, it is Abraham who is named in the important final line of our ancestral prayer, the Avot, "baruch ata Adonai, magein Avraham: blessed are you God, the shield of Abraham." Jacob also has his share of attention. We recall Jacob's stealth in stealing his brother's blessing; his vivid dreams of ascending angels; his seven years of work for one bride, and then another. Abraham is our teacher, Jacob our dreamer, but what of Isaac? Besides during his childhood trauma, the Torah offers only the most fragmented information about Isaac, most of which is severely lacking in spirituality, in a relationship with God. Searching for more meaning in Isaac's life, the text offers us little help. Abraham begins the journey, and Jacob leads his family through the most difficult times. Where is Isaac's important contribution to the tradition? What should we remember Isaac for? Perhaps we should remember him for the Tale of the Wells. In rabbinic writings, water stands for Torah. The association is easy to see: both are life-giving, and sustaining. As water allows for physical life, Torah nourishes Jewish life. We see this metaphor all over our holy texts. Isaiah calls out: "All who are thirsty, come for water, even if you have no money to pay." The rabbis take these words as an invitation to enter the world of study. According to the narrative in Exodus, after crossing the Red Sea, the people of Israel wander in the wilderness for three days without sign of water, quickly erasing any memory of previous miracles and leading the people to revolt against Moses (Exodus 15:22). The rabbis again treat this story as a metaphor: three days without exposure to any word of Torah is more than any of us could endure. And so they established the custom of reading from the Torah every three days, on Shabbat, on Monday, and on Thursday. This is why it's so important to come not only to Friday night services, but also to our programs on Saturday! Go too long without Torah, and you will surely perish. Thirdly, many of you may have heard of the significance of water, and specifically of wells, during the time of Miriam. Supposedly the well Miriam found in the desert not only sustained her people, but offered healing properties as well. Perhaps here we see the connection more clearly that with any other text. The section of this week's portion I read, devotes more than a few lines to tell us of Isaac's efforts to restore the wells built by his father. "Isaac dug anew the wells which had been dug in the days of his father Abraham and which the Philistines had stopped up after Abraham's death; and he gave them the same names that his father had given them (26:18)." The Philistines, in whose territory Isaac resided at the time, tried to stop him, but he managed to save at least three wells, and perhaps four. (26:32) Understanding that water can be seen as a metaphor for Torah, for tradition, and seeing as well how the life of Isaac has played out until now, a picture begins to form. Like the story of Miriam's well, this can become a story of healing. Isaac is the most wounded of all our forefathers. He is deeply affected, in real human terms, by the events surrounding him. In this way, Isaac becomes every one of us. He takes his pain to heart, and although he does find healing, he is left with real scars. Isaac is a model for us all, not about leadership but about our own humanity. If Abraham is our teacher, and Jacob is our dreamer, then Isaac represents our "selves," caught in the middle between the dream and the reality. This image of Isaac clearing his father's well shows us that he eventually forgives his father, and carries on Abraham's important teachings. Isaac heals the wound of past family affairs, he renews his own relationship with God. God is referred to later in the text as "the Fear of Isaac," (Gen. 31:42), suggesting that Isaac knew God as a source of dread, the God of Mount Moriah, and of his father's aggression. But here, at the Tale of the Wells, Isaac perceives the God who addresses him as the God of his father for the first time - as the wells are restored, the waters renewed. In his own quiet way, Isaac makes his peace with the tests of his past, and with God. Each of us faces tests in our lives - for some of us they are on a very public stage: like Abraham we understand that what is expected of us is to commit ourselves to action, to follow God's intent, to fulfill the mitzvah. Or like Jacob, we see visions of how our lives should be, and through hard work we attain our goals. But for some of us, like Isaac, we take more time to realize the true path. We struggle to overcome obstacles placed in our way, and our successes are sometimes tempered by our perceived shortcomings. Through Isaac's physical blindness we understand that each of us is blind, as we struggle to understand our potential, as we struggle with our sense of God, and with our connection to the past. May we all find ways to uncover the life-giving wells left for us by our teachers and parents, to restore the lines that connect us to our communities, our past, and our future. May we find the balance between Jacob's dreams of angels ascending, and Abraham's faith in the voice of God we hear in our own hearts. May we find ourselves, in the story of Isaac. |