By Marco Del Monte
Love is not a river, it is a well...
We live in a society where everything seems to have to be immediate: the satisfaction of desires, the achievement of goals, even love. A society that attaches ever-greater importance to image, to appearance, to what is seen on the surface.
Yet the Torah, in Parashat Chayei Sarah, gives us an extraordinary image, capable of teaching us something profound about human relationships: the well. Avraham Avinu entrusts his servant Eliezer with the task of finding a wife for Yitzchak. Upon arrival, Eliezer stops by a well and prays to Hashem to make him meet the right girl. The sign will be her generosity: not only offering him a drink, but spontaneously giving water to his camels as well. Rashi explains that a girl capable of such a gesture would be worthy of entering the house of Avraham, because she would have demonstrated the quality of Chesed, kindness towards others. But why a well, of all things? The Midrash observes that three matrimonial encounters, fundamental in the history of Israel, take place by a well: that of Yitzchak with Rivkah, through Eliezer; that of Yaakov with Rachel; and that of Moshe with Tzipporah. Rashi adds that Moshe sat intentionally by the well, having learned from Yaakov that right there he could meet his partner. We may then ask ourselves what teaching is hidden behind this recurring image. Why a well and not a river? A river offers its water on the surface, visible and easily accessible. A well, instead, hides its wealth in the depths of the earth. Looking at it from the outside we can discern only a dark opening, seemingly empty. Yet, precisely in its depths is found the water that gives life. Such is the human being. The exterior appearance, charm, first impressions represent only the surface. The true wealth of a person is found deeper down: in character, in values, in sensitivity, in vulnerabilities and in the capacity to love. As the Masters teach: "Do not look at the vessel, but at what it contains". But the well teaches us something even more important: water is not enough to find, one must also make the effort to reach it. Sometimes it is necessary to remove a stone, lower a bucket, lift its weight. Other times, in periods of drought, one must go down even deeper to find even just a few drops. When Yaakov meets Rachel, he finds the well covered by a large stone. He does not look for another spring, but removes the stone and waters the flock. It is a wonderful image of marriage: it is not enough to find the right person, one must learn to build a relationship together, facing difficulties, misunderstandings and sacrifices. Marriage, like all the goals one sets out to reach, does not represent the absence of stones, but the willingness to learn to remove them. Our society, instead, risks teaching us the opposite. When something requires effort, when a relationship goes through a difficult time, when the water seems to diminish, when a path seems too difficult, we are often tempted to immediately look for another well, rather than committing to draw deeper. But who guarantees us that in the new well we will not find other stones? And who assures us that, by abandoning the first one, we are not giving up precisely the most precious water? The Mishnah teaches: Lefum tza'arà agrà – "According to the effort is the reward" (Pirkei Avot 5:23). The most precious things in life often require patience, perseverance and the capacity for sacrifice. Naturally, persevering does not mean accepting violence or humiliation, but recognising the value of mutual commitment in difficulties that can be overcome together. And here we return to Rivkah. Rav Metzgher, reporting a teaching from Ma'ayan Beit HaShoevah, proposes a suggestive reading: the well where Eliezer was located was subject to a severe water shortage, so much so that each family had a limited quantity available. Offering water into the bargain to a stranger therefore meant giving up a part of one's own resources; offering it also to his ten camels represented a gesture of extraordinary generosity. According to this interpretation, Eliezer was not simply looking for a girl capable of giving, but a person capable of giving up something of her own for the good of the other. And perhaps right here lies the secret that unites all three encounters by the well: true love, and more generally true nobility of soul, does not consist merely in finding someone who can quench our thirst, but in becoming people capable of offering water even when it costs effort. Because days will come when the well will seem almost dry, days when drawing will require immense effort. And precisely then the depth of the bond will be revealed. One of my teachers, Rav David Menasce z”l, taught me that black is the colour that absorbs all the rays of light, holding them for itself, while white is the one that reflects them, returning to others all the light it receives. Perhaps the problem of our time is not that the wells have become deeper, but that we have lost the patience to draw from them. The secret of love, as of any achievement of one's goals, is not finding a well that never dries up, but the right commitment and effort that, even in days of drought, never stops seeking water.
Shabbat Shalom!
Translated from the Italian with Google Gemini. The Italian text is the original.