Rabbi Shaya's Thoughts

There are people who love breaking world records, especially in sports. This past year, Kyle Schwarber hit four home runs in one game and had one more at-bat opportunity to break the record with a fifth. He didn’t succeed. When asked afterward what happened, he said he had made the mistake of asking the question, “Has anyone ever hit five home runs in a game?” Just thinking about the record had apparently distracted him and ruined his chances.

When we train and prepare to perform at our best, there comes a moment when we actually overthink and overprepare. Sometimes the key is simply to focus on the task in front of us and let the work flow.

This idea appears in this week’s Torah portion, Toldot, where we read about Isaac’s dedication to digging wells. Fascinatingly, throughout the generations this becomes one of his defining achievements. But the question must be asked: Is digging wells really his greatest accomplishment? After all, Abraham dug wells too; Isaac was just reopening Abraham’s wells that others had filled.

As always, the Torah invites us to look beneath the surface and find a spiritual lesson.

One layer of meaning lies in the names Isaac gives to the wells. The first he calls “Argument,” the second “Hatred,” and the third “Expansion.”

At the first well, people quarreled with him over ownership. After he prevailed and redug a second well, others resented and hated him for his success. But Isaac kept going. When he dug the third well, it was finally accepted and admired. That well represented expansion not only of his territory, but of his influence as a leader.

The Midrash teaches that these three wells correspond to the three Temples.

The first, the Temple of King Solomon, was built in a time of peace, not only did no one argue with Solomon, they helped him succeed in his endeavor.  Solomon transformed arguments in to peaceful agreement. 

The second, often called Cyrus’s Temple, was supported financially and politically by Cyrus the Great, the Persian king who, although not Jewish, deeply respected and helped the Jewish people. He represented love and affection. Cyrus converted hate to help. (In his merit, the Second Temple was larger and stood for a longer period of time.)

The third Temple will come with the arrival of Moshiach. An era that continues and builds on Isaac’s efforts. This is the ultimate expansion for the Jewish people and for the entire world.

This, the Midrash explains, is the deeper message behind Isaac’s wells.

Each of us has the ability to bring peace into our lives, to look beyond labels, to support those in need, and ultimately to make the world a better place.

How do we do this? By uncovering our hidden resources, our own inner wells.

But overthinking can clog those wells. Negative thoughts, doubts, and fears block our true potential. We become our own greatest obstacle.

Let us learn from Isaac: Dig past the noise, uncover our inner strength, and transform our lives into ones filled with purpose, meaning, and growth.

You got what you wanted. The person agreed. The message landed.

And yet, there’s that urge to say just a little more. To explain, to justify, to make it sound better.

As a Rabbi, I’m guilty of this. How often does a point land in a sermon, clear and strong (I hope) and still, I feel the need to go on? How often do we say, “In other words,” when the original words were perfectly clear?

Sometimes, the truest thing we can do … is stop talking.

We see this lesson in this week’s Torah portion, Chayei Sarah, when Eliezer, Abraham’s servant, travels to find a wife for Abraham’s son, Isaac. The story tells how miracles led him to the right girl, Rebecca. When Eliezer shared these miracles with Rebecca’s family, they were enthusiastic, and eager to send her off to marry Isaac. To sweeten the deal, Eliezer offered gifts to Rebecca’s family.

But right before she was about to leave, there was a shift, a change of heart. Lavan, Rebecca’s brother, hesitated. “Maybe she should stay here for another year,” he suggested. Eliezer argued with him, trying to convince him not to ask her to wait. 

The commentators point out that there must have been a reason why Lavan argued to slow everything down. But then Lavan said, “We can’t decide without asking the girl first.” Logical! But why didn’t he say that at the beginning of the argument? Why agree so quickly, only to backtrack?

Here we uncover a fascinating insight.

At first, Rebecca’s family had no doubt that she’d want to go. After all, the miracles were so clear. But once Eliezer started offering gifts, something changed. Something began to feel… off. Insincere. If the signs were so obvious, why was Eliezer trying to sweeten the deal? What was meant as kindness and reassurance ended up backfiring.

From this, we learn a powerful lesson: When we speak truth, when something is real, there’s no need to dress it up. No need to over-explain or oversell. Less is more.

For example: when we say Am Yisroel Chai, “The Jewish People live,” there’s nothing more to add. It simply is.

Shabbat Shalom