Rivekah had only just finished her story, gold still on her hand, when her brother Laban moved. The Torah's text is brief, but Targum Pseudo-Jonathan on Genesis 24:30 notices the sequence carefully: Laban saw the ring. Laban saw the bracelets. Laban heard Rivekah. And Laban ran.
The order matters. The sages were not shy about what moved Laban first. The eye before the ear. The gold before the story. Later he will welcome the stranger with the language of blessing, but the momentum began with the weight of metal.
This is Laban's first appearance in the Torah, and the Targum is already sketching the outline of the man Jacob will spend twenty years working for (Genesis 29-31). A host of generous words built on a foundation of calculation. A man whose hospitality is real but never disinterested.
And yet — here is the mercy — God uses him anyway. Laban's hurry, whatever drove it, gets the servant into the house. The messenger of Abraham finds shelter because a calculating brother saw the shine of gold. The same providence that brought Rivekah to the well is capable of steering mixed motives toward holy ends.
When you encounter a Laban in your own story, take the Targum's quiet comfort: God's plan does not require purity in every hand the plan passes through. It only requires that you, like Rivekah, carry the pitcher with clean intent.