the mouth of the well

With limited exception, Torah is not very romantic. Those exceptions include the Song of Songs, (which is perhaps more erotic than romantic) and this week’s Torah portion, Chayei Sarah, which is better known for including the deaths of both Sarah and Abraham, but also narrates the moment when Jacob and Rachel first meet. 

We learn in Genesis chapter 29, that Jacob is at a well, when Rachel catches his eye. It is something like love at first sight. He rolls away the stone covering the mouth of the well and gives water to Rachel and Lavan’s flock of sheep, and then in a moment of relative biblical abandon, Rachel and Jacob kiss. A rare public display of affection. We don’t get many more details than that, but that is pretty racy for Torah. 

Perhaps not surprisingly what I love about this story is that they were at a well. Wells are meeting places. Water is life. And this year in particular, because the theme for the Days of Awe was Miriam’s well, I am paying extra attention to the role of wells in Torah stories. Wells are signs of resilience, reminders of what nourishes and sustains us. 

We learn in Pirkei Avot (5:6), “Ten things were created at twilight just before the first Shabbat, and the first three include, “the mouth of the earth, the mouth of the well, the mouth of the donkey…” 

This week, I am most intrigued by the mouth of the well. Which well is this referring to? 

In Elul, many of us learned the sages feel clear that the specific well referenced in this teaching is Miriam’s well, which journeyed with her and the Israelites throughout their time in the desert. But I would like to note that while Miriam was amazing, never once does Torah describe her as having a well. It is only after she dies, and the Israelites lose access to water, that they ascribe this primordial well to Miriam. 

But what if this well wasn’t Miriam’s? Or at least, not only Miriam’s. 

There are after all many ancestral stories in Torah that involve a well. Take for example last week, we read of the Hagar’s well, as she and Ishmael were thirsting in the desert, “The Holy Blessed One opened her eyes and she saw a well of water (Gen. 21:19). And next week, in parashat Toldot, we will read about how Isaac redigs the wells that his father Abraham had dug, which had since been clogged up by the Philistines (Gen. 26:18).

I am increasingly inclined to believe the well in Pirkei Avot was intentionally unspecified. Not because it wasn’t Miriam’s well but because it wasn’t only Miriam’s well. It was also the well of Hagar and Ishmael, Isaac and Jacob. And it is our well too. 

For those of us who dwell in cities, it takes some effort to imagine that everything we need to sustain us is just under our feet, literally a clean, quenching, current in the earth, waiting for us to dig down and draw it forth. Inviting us to search together for its access point. Reminding us that we are likely to find our people at its mouth. 

I think Rabbi Sheila Peltz Weiberg captures the sentiment best in a kavanah that appears before the Amidah in the reconstructionist prayerbook Kol Haneshamah, 

“Dear God,

Open the blocked passageways to you,
The congealed places.

Roll away the heavy stone from the well as your servant
Jacob did when he beheld his beloved Rachel.

Help us open the doors of trust that have been jammed with hurt and rejection.

As you open the blossoms in spring,
Even as you open the heavens in storm,
Open us – to feel your great, awesome, wonderful presence.”

On this shabbat, when we read the story of Jacob and Rachel, may we feel encouraged to roll away the heavy stones in our hearts and be reminded that we too have access to the mouth of the well. ​