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Isaac Named Every Well His Enemies Stole, Then Dug One More

Three times the Philistines stole Isaac's wells. Three times he named each one for what they did. The fourth time he called it Room and said God had made space.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. Reopening His Father's Wells
  2. The Names He Gave the Stolen Wells
  3. The Well He Called Room
  4. The Voice at Beersheba

When his neighbors stole what he built, Isaac did not fight back and did not leave. He dug another well.

The story of Isaac in the valley of Gerar is one of the quietest in all of Genesis, which may be why it is rarely taught. Isaac had sojourned in Philistine territory during a famine, prospered there, prospered too visibly for the locals' comfort. Abimelech, king of the Philistines, asked him to leave because he had become too powerful. Isaac departed and settled in the valley. And then he began to dig.

Reopening His Father's Wells

He was not digging new wells. The rabbinic tradition preserved in Ginzberg's early twentieth-century compilation of midrashic sources, drawing on Talmudic and midrashic material from the first through fifth centuries CE, notes that Isaac was reopening the wells his father Abraham had dug and which the Philistines had deliberately filled with earth after Abraham's death. This was not merely practical water-finding. It was filial piety in concrete form, and the tradition rewarded it: God left Isaac's own name unchanged as a result. Abraham's name had been changed from Abram. Jacob's name would later be changed to Israel. Only Isaac kept his birth name from beginning to end of his life, and the tradition attributed this in part to his insistence on restoring what his father had built.

The Philistine shepherds quarreled over the first well he dug in the valley. They said the water was theirs. Isaac named it Esek - contention - and moved on without a fight. He dug another well. They quarreled over that one too. He named it Sitnah - enmity - and moved again.

The Names He Gave the Stolen Wells

The naming is the part the tradition focuses on. A man who names a well Contention and a well Enmity is doing something deliberate with language. He is not pretending the theft did not happen. He is not performing patience for an audience. He is building a record, laying down in the name of each place exactly what was done there, so that the name becomes the permanent description of an act. The wells of Esek and Sitnah carry in their syllables the full account of what the Philistines did. Anyone who draws water from them for a thousand years afterward is drinking from water named for a wrong.

Jubilees adds a dimension the plain Genesis text does not supply: the wells Isaac dug dried up the moment he left the territory of Gerar. While he was there, spring water came up. The moment he departed, the springs went dry. The land responded to his presence. It was not neutral ground. It bore him and would not bear the Philistines who took what he dug.

The Well He Called Room

He moved again. He dug another well in the valley of Rehoboth. This time, no one quarreled. The Philistines did not come. Isaac named it Rehoboth - meaning wide space, room, breadth - and said: now the Lord has made room for us, and we shall be fruitful in the land. The name is completely different from the previous two. Esek and Sitnah are accusations. Rehoboth is gratitude, almost surprised gratitude, the word of a man who had been forced to move twice and is now standing at a well that no one took from him.

The Voice at Beersheba

He went up from there to Beersheba. God appeared to him that night and said: I am the God of Abraham your father. Fear not, for I am with you and will bless you and multiply your seed for my servant Abraham's sake. Isaac built an altar there, called on the name of the Lord, and pitched his tent. His servants dug a well at Beersheba. This one was not disputed either. The pattern had resolved itself: the contested wells to the south, the uncontested well to the north, and at each station the naming of exactly what had happened.

PatriarchsAbrahamIsaacWellsPhilistinesGerarPatience
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From the tradition

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The texts this telling draws on, in full. Open a card to read inline, or expand it for a wider, quieter read.

Legends of the Jews 6:39Legends of the Jews

The Torah hints at it in so many ways. the story turns to the story of Isaac and some very important wells.

Isaac, as we know, was the son of Abraham, and he found himself in Gerar, a Philistine territory. Now, Abraham had dug wells there, crucial sources of life in the arid landscape. But after Abraham's passing, the Philistines, well, they plugged them up. Stopped them. End of story. Not quite.

Isaac, driven by a deep respect for his father – a concept the rabbis call kibbud av v'em – went back and reopened those very wells. Not only that, he even restored the names Abraham had given them. Ginzberg, in his Legends of the Jews, makes a point of saying that Isaac’s reverence was so profound that he insisted on preserving his father's legacy in this very tangible way. It's a beautiful image, isn't it? Reclaiming and honoring the past.

Here's a fascinating tidbit. To reward Isaac for this profound filial respect, the Holy One, Blessed be He, allowed his name to remain unchanged. Abraham, remember, was originally Abram, and Jacob would later become Israel. But Isaac? Isaac remained Isaac. As Ginzberg points out, this is a direct reward for his honoring of his father's legacy. It's as if the Divine is saying, "You honor your father's name, so your name will be honored."

But the story doesn't end there. Isaac persisted in digging, seeking water in this parched land. After four attempts, he finally struck water. Not just any water, mind you. This was the very well that had followed the Patriarchs! The Midrash Rabbah and other sources tell us that this well, known as Beer-sheba – literally, "the well of seven" or "the well of the oath," depending on which interpretation you prefer – had been discovered by Abraham after three diggings. Isaac's persistence, building on his father's work, made it flow again.

Beer-sheba. Seven diggings. And, according to some traditions, this is no ordinary well. This is the same well that will, in Messianic times, supply water to Jerusalem and its surroundings. Imagine that! A well dug by our ancestors, flowing with life-giving water, sustaining us in the future.

What does it all mean? Well, perhaps it's a reminder that our actions, our respect for those who came before us, have a ripple effect. Isaac's devotion not only honored his father, but it also ensured a source of sustenance for generations to come, even into the Messianic era. It's a powerful evidence of the enduring legacy of family, tradition, and the importance of digging deep, both literally and figuratively, to uncover the wellsprings of our heritage. So, the next time you're feeling parched, remember Isaac and the well of Beer-sheba. Remember to honor those who came before you, for they may just hold the key to your future.

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Book of Jubilees 24:29Book of Jubilees

It's a retelling and expansion of stories we find in Genesis, offering a slightly different perspective.

Our focus? Chapter 24. It's a short, sharp account of Isaac and his struggles over water rights.

"And the servants of Isaac dug a well in the valley, and found living water…" A wellspring! A source of life in the arid landscape. But the joy is short-lived.

"…and the shepherds of Gerar strove with the shepherds of Isaac, saying: 'The water is ours'; and Isaac called the name of the well 'Perversity,' because they had been perverse with us."

Perversity. In Hebrew, the name given to this well is likely related to the idea of twisting or distorting what is right. Imagine the frustration! Isaac's people discover water, a gift from the earth, only to have it immediately contested. They name the well as a reminder of the unfairness they faced.

But the story doesn't end there.

"And they dug a second well, and they strove for that also, and he called its name 'Enmity.'"

The struggle continues. Another well, another dispute. This time, the well is named "Enmity," a symbol of the hostility and antagonism between the groups. You can almost feel the weariness creeping in. How many times can you keep fighting the same battle?

And then, a turning point.

"And he arose from thence and they digged another well, and for that they strove not, and he called the name of it 'Room,' and Isaac said: 'Now the Lord hath made room for us, and we have increased in the land.'"

Finally, a well that isn't contested! Isaac names it "Room" – a place of expansion, of possibility. This is more than just finding water; it's about finding peace, about creating a space where growth and prosperity are possible.

What's so powerful about this little story? It's not just about water. It's about the human condition. It's about the struggles we face, the conflicts we encounter, and the hope that, eventually, we might find a place of "Room." A place where we can flourish without constant opposition.

It begs the question, doesn't it? What "wells" are you digging in your life? What battles are you constantly fighting? And what would it take to find your own "Room"?

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Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer 36:21Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer

Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer turns to Isaac and the Philistines Battle Over Abraham's Wells.

We find the story in Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer (Chapter 36), a fascinating text that retells and expands upon biblical narratives. Isaac is living as a sojourner in Philistine territory, and he notices something unsettling: the locals are pointedly turning their faces away from him. Avoiding eye contact. Giving him the silent treatment.

So, Isaac, being the patriarch he is, decides to leave. To remove himself from the awkwardness. But Abimelech, the Philistine king, and his entourage come chasing after him.

Isaac confronts them. "Why are you coming to me now," he asks, pretty directly, "seeing that you hate me?" (Genesis 26:27). It's a fair question. Their response? "We saw plainly that the Lord was with thee" (Genesis 26:28). In other words, "We see you're blessed, and we're a little nervous about it."

They continue, essentially admitting they know that, eventually, God will give these lands to Isaac's descendants. And here's the kicker: they want a covenant. A deal. They want Isaac to swear that his descendants won't take possession of Philistine land. They're trying to protect their own future.

So, Isaac makes a covenant with them. But how do you seal such an important agreement in those days? With a handshake? A signed document? Think bigger...or, in this case, smaller.

Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer tells us that Isaac took a cubit – roughly the length from your elbow to your fingertips – of the bridle from his donkey and gave it to them. A piece of donkey bridle as a symbol of this binding oath!

Why a piece of bridle? It seems almost… underwhelming, doesn’t it? Was it simply what he had on hand? Or was there a deeper symbolic meaning? The text doesn't explicitly say. But we can imagine it as a constant reminder. A tangible representation of the promise made. A small, everyday item carrying the weight of a significant agreement.

It makes you wonder about the things we use as symbols today. What seemingly insignificant objects carry the weight of our promises, our agreements, our history? And what happens when those symbols are broken or forgotten?

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Targum Jonathan on Genesis 26Targum Jonathan

The Hebrew Bible tells a straightforward story about Isaac digging wells in Gerar and feuding with the Philistines over water rights (Genesis 26). The Targum Jonathan transforms it into something far stranger, a tale where the land itself responds to Isaac's presence, and where miracles hide inside mundane disputes.

The first change is subtle but theologically loaded. When God tells Isaac not to go down to Egypt, the Targum doesn't say "I will be with you." It says "My Word shall be for thy help." This is the Memra, the divine Word, a concept the Targum uses repeatedly to avoid saying God acts directly in the physical world. Every time the Hebrew says God does something, the Aramaic translator inserts a buffer. God's Word blesses. God's Word protects. The theology is deliberate.

Then the wells. In the Hebrew, Isaac digs wells and the Philistines quarrel over them. The Targum adds a detail the Bible never mentions: the first well Isaac dug miraculously flowed with water when he was present, but dried up when the Philistines tried to claim it. When they returned the well to Isaac, the water flowed again. The second well dried up permanently after the dispute. And never flowed again. The land was picking sides.

The most dramatic addition comes later. When Isaac finally leaves Gerar, the Targum says all the wells in the region dried up and the trees stopped bearing fruit. The Philistines realized the catastrophe happened because they had driven Isaac away. Abimelech himself traveled to Isaac and essentially begged him to return, not out of friendship, but because the entire region's water supply had collapsed without him. Isaac's response is sharp: "Why come to me when you hated me and drove me away?" They admit everything. Isaac prays for them, and the land is restored.

The chapter closes with Esau marrying Hittite women who, the Targum specifies, "bowed in strange worship" and deliberately set themselves to rebel against Isaac and Rebekah. The Hebrew Bible simply says the marriages were a "bitterness of spirit" to his parents. The Targum names the sin: idolatry.

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Legends of the Jews 6:40Legends of the Jews

You, almost miraculously, strike water. Not once, but repeatedly. That was Isaac. But his success? It only stoked the flames of envy in the hearts of the Philistines.

The text says, Isaac found water in a most unlikely spot, and during a drought, no less! According to Legends of the Jews, Isaac’s good fortune only intensified the Philistines' resentment.

It’s a classic case of “no good deed goes unpunished,”. But there's a deeper current flowing beneath the surface of this story. As the text puts it, "the Lord fulfils the desire of them that fear Him." Isaac was acting in accordance with God's will, and in turn, God made sure his desires were met.

What about those pesky Philistines?

Well, Abimelech, the king of Gerar, learned a hard lesson. Remember, he was the one who initially forced Isaac to leave Gerar. Turns out, messing with someone blessed by God has consequences.

As Legends of the Jews tells us, Abimelech’s house was ravaged by robbers in the night, and he himself was stricken with leprosy. Talk about a wake-up call! It seems pretty clear that these misfortunes were divine retribution for his unkindness toward Isaac. It makes you wonder, doesn't it, about the ripple effects of our actions?

And the woes didn't stop there. Once Isaac left Gerar, the Philistines' own wells dried up, and even their trees refused to bear fruit. Legends of the Jews points out that no one could doubt that these things were a punishment for their behavior. The message was clear: their unkindness had tangible, devastating consequences.

So, what do we take away from this ancient tale? It’s more than just a story about wells and water rights. It's about the interplay between human action and divine will. It's about the consequences of envy and the rewards of faithfulness. And perhaps most importantly, it's a reminder that sometimes, when things seem impossible, there's a deeper force at work, fulfilling the desires of those who act with faith and integrity. What do you think? Is there someone like Isaac in your life?

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Bereshit Rabbah 64:8Bereshit Rabbah

Take the story of Isaac, son of Abraham, diligently re-digging wells in Beersheba. It's a quick mention in (Genesis 26:18): "Isaac again dug the wells of water that they had dug in the days of Abraham his father, but the Philistines had sealed them after the death of Abraham. He called them names like the names that his father called them." But what's the real story here?

Well, the Rabbis of old, in their infinite wisdom, saw more than just a simple act of restoration. They saw echoes, connections, and profound symbolism woven into the very fabric of the narrative. In Bereshit Rabbah, a collection of rabbinic interpretations of Genesis, we find a fascinating exploration of these wells.

How many wells did Isaac actually dig? Rabbi Yehuda suggests four. And what do these four wells correspond to? He links them directly to the four banners under which Israel was organized in the wilderness, as described in (Numbers 2:1-32). Imagine the tribes, each with their own standard, marching forth like tributaries flowing from Isaac's initial act of faith.

Wait, there's another opinion! The Rabbis offer an alternative: perhaps there were five wells, mirroring the five books of the Torah. Suddenly, Isaac's labor becomes a microcosm of the entire Mosaic law, a evidence of the enduring relevance of Abraham's legacy.

Then comes the conflict. "The herdsmen of Gerar quarreled with Isaac’s herdsmen, saying: The water is ours. He called the name of the well Esek, because they involved themselves with him” (Genesis 26:20). Esek, meaning "contention," resonates with the very first book, Genesis. As Bereshit Rabbah points out, this corresponds to Genesis itself, "in which the Holy One blessed be He became involved and created the world." It's as if the struggle over the well reflects the very act of creation, a divine involvement in the messy, beautiful process of bringing existence into being.

The story continues: "Isaac's servants dug in the valley, and they found there a well of fresh water” (Genesis 26:19). "They dug another well, and they quarreled over it as well. He called it Sitna” (Genesis 26:21). Sitna, meaning "enmity" or "hatred," is linked to Exodus. The Rabbis connect it to the verse in (Exodus 1:14), “they embittered their lives with hard work.” The bitterness and oppression of slavery find their echo in the name of this contested well. And the fresh water they found? That, according to Bereshit Rabbah, corresponds to Leviticus, "which is filled with many halakhot" – Jewish laws.

And finally, "He called it Shiva; therefore, the name of the city is Beersheba to this day” (Genesis 26:33). Shiva, meaning "seven," hints at the book of Numbers. Now, the Torah has only five books. Here's where it gets interesting. Ben Kappara cleverly divides Numbers into three sections, making a total of… you guessed it, seven! Each section becomes a book in its own right, culminating in the completion of the Torah.

But what about the last well? "He moved from there and dug another well and they did not quarrel over it. He called its name Rehovot and he said: As now the Lord has expanded [hirḥiv] for us, and we will be fruitful in the land” (Genesis 26:22). Rehovot, meaning "broad places" or "expansion," is linked to Deuteronomy. The connection is made through the similar phrase, "when the Lord your God will expand [yarḥiv]" (Deuteronomy 12:20). The promise of expansion, of fruitfulness, finds its symbolic fulfillment in this final, uncontested well.

So, what does this all mean? Is it just clever wordplay? I think it's much more than that. It's a evidence of the power of interpretation, to the ability of the Rabbis to find layers of meaning hidden within the seemingly simple narratives of the Torah. It reminds us that every detail, every name, every action can hold profound significance, if we only take the time to look. It encourages us to see our own lives, with their struggles and triumphs, reflected in these ancient stories. And who knows, maybe we too can find hidden wells of meaning in the everyday moments of our own existence.

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