Genesis 8: A Raven and a Dove

Genesis 8

6 After forty days, Nochah opened the window of the ark she had made.

7 And she sent out a female raven, and it went out here and there, until the waters were dried up off the earth.

8 And she sent out a male dove, to see if the waters had receded from off the face of the ground.

9 But the male dove found no place to rest the sole of its foot, and it returned to her in the ark, for the waters were on the face of the whole earth; and she put out her hand, and took it, and brought it to her into the ark.

10 And she waited still another seven days; and again she sent out the male dove from the ark.

11 And the male dove came to her that evening; and in its mouth it had a freshly plucked olive leaf; so Nochah knew that the waters had receded from the earth.

12 And she waited still another seven days; and sent out the dove; and it did not return to her any more.

בראשית ח

ו וַיְהִי מִקֵּץ אַרְבָּעִים יוֹם וַתִּפְתַּח נֹחָה אֶת־חַלּוֹן הַתֵּבָה אֲשֶׁר עָשְׂתָה:  

ז וַתְשַׁלַּח אֶת־הָעֹרֵבֶת וַתֵּצֵא יָצוֹא וָשׁוֹב עַד־יְבֹשֶׁת הַמַּיִם מֵעַל הָאָרֶץ:  

ח וַתְשַׁלַּח אֶת־הַיּוֹן מֵאִתָּה לִרְאוֹת הֲקַלּוּ הַמַּיִם מֵעַל פְּנֵי הָאֲדָמָה:  

ט וְלֹא־מָצָא הַיּוֹן מָנוֹחַ לְכַף־רַגְלוֹ וַיָּשָׁב אֵלֶיהָ אֶל־הַתֵּבָה כִּי־מַיִם עַל־פְּנֵי כָל־הָאָרֶץ וַתִּשְׁלַח יָדָה וַתִּקָּחֵהוּ וַתָּבֵא אֹתוֹ אֵלֶיהָ אֶל־הַתֵּבָה:  

י וַתָּחֶל עוֹד שִׁבְעַת יָמִים אֲחֵרִים וַתֹּסֶף שַׁלַּח אֶת־הַיּוֹן מִן־הַתֵּבָה:  

יא וַיָּבֹא אֵלֶיהָ הַיּוֹן לְעֵת עֶרֶב וְהִנֵּה עֲלֵה־זַיִת טָרָף בְּפִיהוּ וַתֵּדַע נֹחָה כִּי־קַלּוּ הַמַּיִם מֵעַל הָאָרֶץ: 

יב וַתִּיָּחֶל עוֹד שִׁבְעַת יָמִים אֲחֵרִים וַתְשַׁלַּח אֶת־הַיּוֹן וְלֹא־יָסָף שׁוּב־אֵלֶיהָ עוֹד:  

*

Seven fifteen in the morning. My younger daughter and me are heading out of our building, and immediately notice rapid movement around our feet. A few cats hurry away from the path, dispersing in all directions. How did I forget about the cats, I wonder, disbelieving. Eight years in Boston, with robins, squirrels and chipmunks, and I’ve already forgotten the unending motion that accompanies you every step in Jerusalem, some cat running across the street, another crawling under a bush, and a few all at once leaping from the trash can.

We got to the roundabout, my daughter gets on to her ride to school and I continue to the Promenade of Armon Ha-Netziv. Sunk in thought, I’m startled by the loud cries of ravens. How many ravens! Ravens poking at the grass, skipping on the stone paths, perched on the wall, in deep contemplation. 

At the overlook of the Promenade, looking out on the Old City and the Temple Mount, I stop. I focus my gaze on the Mount of Olives, where my father is buried. I try to tell him something but a little cat running on the wall startles me, and I recoil. It’s trying to catch a dove. The dove flutters, and I notice that the plaza is filled with doves. Doves and pigeons! How did I forget those?

Cats – ravens – doves. The holy trinity of Jerusalem. The residents living stormy lives of their own, for whom we, the humans, are just the background.

I turn towards home, beset by thoughts of my study with Yael the night before. A female raven and a male dove, that Nochah sent from the ark. Why did I resist and feel such discomfort at this minor, nearly meaningless, change? Changing the female dove and male raven, yonah and orev, from Torato, to a male dove, yon and a female raven, orevet? And why are we changing the animals’ genders anyway, I’m trying to remember? Because they aren’t “just the background.” The animals are also characters in the story, and changing them can open a door to new insights into the story. 

But in me I know why, in truth, I resisted. Because I am very tied to the raven and dove from Torato. In a Midrash that I wrote years ago, I related to them as two Holocaust survivors trying to endure, each one in their way, in the world after the Flood. I’m attached to these two tragic characters, who were dispatched to see a world that Noah couldn’t bear to see. Survivors trying to live, each one with a defense mechanism of their own, in an unredeemed world, in which not only cats try to devour you but God Himself.

So what difference does it make if it’s an orev (male raven) or orevet (female raven), I wonder, and immediately the word orevet makes me think of the word arevut, mutual responsibility. How did I not notice this until now? The two words share the same root – ayin.resh.bet. – meaning care and involvement. Why did Nochah choose the orevet, of all the animals, to be the first to leave the sheltering ark and explore the world outside? What did she see in her, that she thought the orevet could handle it? And what does it mean to be an orevet, flying back and forth, trying to bridge the worlds of before and after? I ask myself, who are the orvot, the female ravens in our world, who we send out, or who send themselves out, to undertake these kinds of deeds? 

And then I’m thinking of the male dove, the yon, and find that I’m annoyed by the image of him bringing an olive branch in his beak, heralding a new beginning, hope. What is this male coup, snatching away the female dove’s starring role as the symbol of peace? I think about the stereotypical image I’ve gotten from Women’s Studies, widespread among Second Generation feminists, that the male, the warrior, represents death, while the woman gives birth and preserves life. Is this image worth preserving? Soon, in the stories of the matriarchs and patriarchs in Toratah, the patriarchs will become central to the fertility process, and in the beginning of Exodus they’ll even be the midhusbands, bravely defying Pharah’s edicts, and choosing life.

And still it’s hard for me to give the men a break and let them represent conciliation, and life. I still don’t feel we’ve gained enough power to share with them the little we have. I hope that I’ll develop this trust before we get, in Torato, to the story of the daughters of Zelophahad in the Book of Numbers, who demand from Moses a status like that of men in inheritance. What will happen in that story in Toratah? When we have to trust these men (the sons of Zelophadah?) and share with them the legacies we’ve only just received?