Why are the Garden of Eden's rivers mentioned?

It struck me, as I was reading the first of the parshot of the new book of Breishit. What practical information, or inspirational lesson could we glean from the names, and qualities of the rivers which circumscribed the land where the first man was situated? It seemed to me a little bit academic, or even immaterial. This river flew this way, this one that way, and that one had gold deposits, and was suitable for the formation of diamonds, or other precious jewels.

A river issues from Eden to water the garden, and it then divides and becomes four branches. The name of the first is Pishon, the one that winds through the whole land of Havilah, where the gold is.(The gold of that land is good; bdellium is there, and lapis lazuli.) The name of the second river is Gihon, the one that winds through the whole land of Cush. The name of the third river is Tigris, the one that flows east of Asshur. And the fourth river is the Euphrates.

It would seem that Hashem's intent in recording such detail is to underscore how ripe the land was for man's success; fertile and plentiful, mankind could thrive there. 

As my grandfather of blessed memory, Rabbi Israel Orenstein Z"L taught, it was never God's intent to withhold knowledge, or wisdom from mankind, but rather, he wanted Adam to eat from the tree, and taste of its delights when the time was apt; man, though, could not wait, exercise resolve, and defer gratification. 

What then, would create an ideal breeding ground, for man to nurture his unique talents? In light of my grandfather's insight, I would like to suggest, in keeping with an idea I heard from Rabbi Eliyahu Meir Faivelzon, that the ideal place for man is one where he does not have plenty, overflowing abundance. The same way the Torah teaches that the rivers flowed over their banks to water the lands, likewise, the Nile, and its land, Egypt, was - in the words of the Torah - kulo mashke, replete with abundance. The abundance overflowed, didn't cease, and thus there was no need to look on the outside for purpose, direction, divine inspiration. 

Not so, Hashem shares about Eretz Yisrael. It is a land, as the Torah states, markedly different from Egypt, one not blessed with a flowing water source, but nonetheless, where God's presence can be felt "from the beginning of the year until the end of the year." A land where people have to turn heavenwards and seek help, assistance, and defer gratification because not everything they wanted was at their easy disposal. 

Interestingly, the only time we mention "The Garden of Eden," in Jewish liturgy is at the time of the wedding ceremony; we ask Hashem to return us "The Garden of Eden, of yore." What then are we asking Hashem to return us to? A time that failed miserably, a time when man and woman were banished, disgraced - sent out from the Garden of Eden to never return; or, is it that ember of hope, the recognition that though we fail, we are still worthy of each other's love that is all the more telling, and prescient, under the wedding canopy?

Regardless, it was never Hashem's intent that man not have to work, or toil, but rather that he not have to do so by the sweat of his brow. The failure to hold back often creates all the more work down the road, symbolic and emblematic of Adam's decision to seek pleasure, rather than waiting to earn it deservedly. Thus, as my grandfather Z"L, shared, the Garden of Eden, can be likened to a laboratory; Hashem gave man free will, only to see what he could do with it. Partnering with man, He sought to see whether man would use it affirmatively to create a better world, or whether the world designed would rot from the inside, baseness and immorality setting in. The proclivities of man were a given; it was for man to fashion a world in God's image, not as God Himself would have fashioned it, but rather as man though it best fit. It was almost as if Hashem was saying to man, you thought you could design a better world than Me, let's see what your world looks like. 

The salient point, though, is that Hashem placed man in the place that He felt would be best fitted for human growth, and progression; it was not man choosing to cast off a wild, undeveloped land, an arid tundra, but rather man had everything he needed, and yet sought more, before the time was right.