21 Oct NOACH: DON’T ALLOW CYNICISM TO REPLACE LOVE THE RAVEN AND THE DOVE: AFTER A FLOOD, IT’S EASY TO GETJADED

As the flood waters
recede, Noach
opens the window
of the ark and sends
out the raven, which
“kept going and
returning until the
waters dried from
upon the earth.” It would seem as if the
raven did its job admirably, and the story
should have ended right there. Instead, the
text describes a drawn-out process in which
Noach sends out a dove three times to
determine whether the waters had subsided
from the face of the ground. The first time,
the dove returns to the ark, as it could not
find a place to rest, because the earth is still
engulfed in water. The second time the
dove returns with a plucked olive leaf,
indicating that the water has receded
significantly. Seven days later, Noach
sends the dove a third time. This time, it
does not return any more. At last, the dove
encountered a space to dwell. The earth
was once again habitable.
Why the need to send two birds, a raven
and a dove? And why did he first send out
the raven and only afterward the dove?

The raven has a long-standing negative
reputation. Because of its black plumage,
croaking call, and diet of carrion, the raven
has long been considered an unkind bird.
Tehillim (ch. 147) describes G-d’s mercy in
feeding all creatures, even “the raven’s
children who call out.” Why are the raven’s
children singled out? Because ravens do
not care for their young as do other birds,
which is one of the reasons that the raven is
singled out as a non-kosher bird.
Modern Western culture has continued this
trend. The famous Edgar Allan Poe poem
portrays the raven as a grim, spectral
presence. One particular flock of ravens
has attained notoriety by taking up
residence at the Tower of London, site of
many gruesome beheadings and royal
murders. To this day, the Beefeater guards
warn visitors from getting too close, lest
the ravens supplement their usual diet of
carrion with a tourist’s finger or toe.
The dove, on the other extreme, is a symbol
of tenderness, loyalty and kindness. The
image of the dove bearing an olive branch
– originating in this week’s parsha –
resonates in the communal consciousness.

Shir Hashirim compares time
and time again the beautiful
bride to the dove. The rabbis
praised the dove for its
extraordinary singular loyalty
to its mate, unique in the
animal kingdom. Not only is
the dove a kosher bird, but it is
the one chosen by the Torah to
be offered in the Beit
Hamikdash as a sacred, divine
offering, testifying to its
sublime potential.
In Kabbalistic and Chassidic terminology,
the raven represents the attribute of gevurah
— aggression, strength and sternness. The
dove, in contrast, represents the quality of
chesed, kindness, tenderness and empathy.
Based on this contrast between the raven
and the dove, we can appreciate the deeper
rhythms behind the Noach story.
Initially, Noach felt that the proper
approach in a post-flood universe must be
that of the raven. It must be tough, rough
and unkindly. After all, humanity
deteriorated because it was spoiled rotten
and it thus grew arrogant and depraved.
Humanity received too much love, too
much generosity, and this allowed people
to lose their priorities and to forfeit their
moral compass. Now, Noach assumed,
we must start all over again, with the
raven showing the way. The “new world
order” must be based on sternness,
strength and discipline. Aggression and
strict judgment must prevail if we want
to ensure that civilization does not revert
again to chaos.
This approach of Noach holds true in
many of our own lives as well. People
who have experienced a “flood,” in one
form or another, people who have felt the
turmoil and pain of life, often feel that
the only way to build a new life for
themselves is by adopting the perspective
and the attitude of the raven. They
develop a rough shell, a dense crust, an
aggressive disposition. They become
tough, strong, and stern. Sometimes they
become cynical and suspicious and their
hearts shut down. They devour, as they
are scared to embrace.
Can we blame them? No. They are afraid
to be abused again. They can’t endure the
pain twice.
But soon Noach discovered that with a
raven you can’t rebuild a world. The
raven is good to remain in the peripheral;
the raven “kept going and returning until
the waters dried from upon the earth.”
The raven is important to give borders to

love, and create limits for vulnerability.
The raven will hover over the new world,
protecting it from a kindness and a love that
could turn destructive. But who must to
lead the way in settling the new world and
rebuilding a shattered civilization? Only
the dove. The primary driving force in life
must be love, loyalty and compassion.
Each of us has disappointments in life.
Some of them are caused by other people;
others are caused by the workings of the
world. Some people feel that they have
been let down by those who were supposed
to care for them most. We can understand if
they have learnt to develop a “raven”
attitude to protect themselves in the future;
even Noach himself did just that. Yet the
human soul is capable of much more: of not
allowing the pain of life to deprive it from
its greatest power – its ability to love.
The Modern Flood
During the past almost eight decades the
Jewish people have been attempting to
recover from a flood that destroyed a third
of our nation. One and a half million
children were sent to the gas chambers, and
nobody uttered more than a pips.
Understandably, Jewish hearts were
swelling with bitterness, mistrust and
profound pain. They could have easily
turned into “ravens,” projecting hatred and
cynicism unto their children and
grandchildren. But learning from Noach’s
example, they replaced the raven with the
dove. The survivors, for the most part, built
families and showered their children with
love, confidence, and hope. Sure, many
children of survivors suffered (and suffer
till today) from the paralyzing silence that
pervaded their homes. But we can all testify
that most of our parents and grandparents
did the best they can to protect and nurture
their loved ones and give them an
opportunity to celebrate life. Will we, the
recipients of that courageous choice, ever
be able to thank them adequately?
Only if we, the second, third and fourth
generations, continue being guided by the
dove, giving love, confidence and hope to
the people around us.