Parshat Noach6 min read

Jonah the Prophet Was the Dove from Noahs Ark

The Tikkunei Zohar makes a startling claim: Jonah the prophet and the dove Noah sent after the flood are the same soul appearing twice with the same mission.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. The Name That Said Everything
  2. The First Flight
  3. The Second Flight
  4. What the Elder Explained
  5. The Soul That Could Not Find Its Rest

The Name That Said Everything

The Hebrew word for dove is yonah. The name of the prophet who spent three days in the belly of a great fish is also Yonah. The Tikkunei Zohar did not believe this was coincidence.

In a passage from Tikkunei Zohar 107, an Elder emerged from behind the shade where he had been sitting and began to speak. He connected two verses that no ordinary reader would place next to each other: the verse from Jonah where the Lord commanded the fish and it vomited Jonah onto dry land, and the verse from Numbers about the manna that fell in the desert, described as like coriander seed, gad in Hebrew. The Elder was building a network of meanings in which the names were not labels but encoded connections, each one pointing back to an origin and forward to a completion.

Jonah was the dove. The dove was Jonah. The same soul, appearing twice in the Torah, centuries apart, sent each time on a mission of communication between the worlds and returning each time to the hand that had sent it.

The First Flight

After forty days of rain and the long stillness of the receding waters, Noah opened a window in the ark and sent out a dove to see whether the land had dried. The dove found no resting place because the waters still covered the surface of the earth, and she returned to the ark. Noah reached out his hand and took her back inside.

A week later he sent her again. This time she came back with a fresh olive branch in her beak. The waters were falling. The world was becoming habitable again. She had found something living in the recovering earth and brought back evidence of it.

A week after that he sent her a third time. She did not return. The earth was dry enough now that she had found her place in it and stayed.

Three missions. Three attempts to find out what the world looked like after the catastrophe. The third time, she disappeared into the world she had been sent to assess.

The Second Flight

The prophet Yonah received a mission and fled. God told him to go to Nineveh, the great city, and cry out against it. Instead Jonah went to Joppa, found a ship, paid his fare, and went down into the hold to sleep. He was heading for Tarshish, the opposite direction from Nineveh, as far from the mission as the available geography allowed.

A storm came. The sailors panicked. They threw their cargo overboard, cried out to their own gods, and eventually woke Jonah and told him to pray to his god because the storm was going to kill them all. Jonah told them to throw him into the sea instead. His god was responsible for the storm, he said, and if they threw him into the water, the sea would calm down and they would be spared.

They did. The sea calmed. The great fish swallowed Jonah. And from inside the fish, Jonah prayed for the first time in the story: out of the belly of the depths I cried, and you heard me.

Three days inside the fish. Then the fish released him onto dry land, exactly as the Tikkunei Zohar noted, and Jonah went to Nineveh and delivered the message he had spent the beginning of the story trying not to deliver.

What the Elder Explained

The Elder emerging from behind the shade connected the dove's three missions to the prophet's flight and return. The dove, he said, was sent to find whether the world after the flood had any place to rest. Jonah was sent to find whether the human world, the world of Nineveh with its violence and its distance from God, had any capacity for repair. Both were missions of assessment, of carrying the olive branch between the worlds, of testing what the recovering earth could hold.

The Tikkunei Zohar placed this reading alongside its teaching on the Shekhinah and the rainbow. The dove who returned to Noah with an olive branch returned to the ark exactly as the Shekhinah returned to God in moments of teshuvah, of human repentance and turning. The rainbow that appeared over Noah's ark was the sign of the Shekhinah's presence. The dove carrying the olive branch was the physical enactment of what the rainbow signified in the sky: something living had survived and was being brought back.

The Soul That Could Not Find Its Rest

Both the dove and Jonah returned the first time without completing the mission. The dove found no resting place and came back. Jonah tried to flee and was returned by the storm and the fish. Neither soul could rest in flight. Both had to be brought back and sent again before the mission was done.

The Tikkunei Zohar read this as a teaching about the nature of the prophetic soul in a world not yet ready to be healed. The dove cannot rest on waters that still cover the drowned earth. Jonah cannot rest on a ship headed away from the city he was sent to warn. The soul sent to carry the olive branch between the worlds finds no resting place until the world has repented enough to receive what the branch represents.

When Nineveh repented, Jonah could rest. When the waters fell enough for the olive tree to grow, the dove could rest. The soul and the world it was sent to reach had to arrive at the same place at the same time. The third mission was the one that worked.


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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.

Tikkunei Zohar 107:4Tikkunei Zohar

A foundation of Kabbalistic literature, Jonah isn't just Jonah. He’s… also the dove from Noah’s ark?

Mind. Blown.

The Tikkunei Zohar is a collection of mystical commentaries that explore the secrets hidden within the Torah. And in Tikkunei Zohar 107, things get really interesting. The passage begins with that very connection: "And this Jonah (Yonah) is the dove (yonah) of Noah’s ark." What's that all about?

Then, a seemingly unrelated verse from Jonah: "And Ha-Shem said to the fish and it vomited Jonah onto dry land." (Jon. 2:11). It's a vivid image, but what's its deeper meaning?

Enter an Elder. Emerging "from behind the shade," this wise figure launches into an explanation, drawing a parallel to another seemingly unrelated verse: "And the manna was like seed of coriander (gad)." (Num. 11:7).

Coriander? Manna? What's going on?

The Elder explains that gad, the Hebrew word for coriander, hints at something profound. It represents the balance between Gemol, bestowing, and Dalim, paupers. Giving and receiving. This idea of balance is also discussed in the Babylonian Talmud (BT Shabbat 104a). The gad, or coriander seed, becomes a symbol of this divine equilibrium.

But it gets even more specific. This "seed of coriander. – this is Jonah (Yonah), commencing with Yod specifically." Yod (י) is the smallest letter in the Hebrew alphabet, often associated with the divine spark. The text calls it "the white drop."

So, Jonah, represented by the Yod, is the starting point. Through him, the gad, the balance of giving and receiving, is completed, becoming gyd. Now, gyd is a more obscure term, but in this context, it's understood to be alluding to Yesod (Foundation), one of the sefirot, the emanations of God. Yesod is often associated with the reproductive organ and channels the divine flow into the world.

So, what does it all mean?

It's a complex web of symbolism, but at its heart is the idea that Jonah's journey, being swallowed, struggling, and ultimately being delivered, mirrors the divine process of balance and creation. Jonah, like the dove, is a messenger, a bringer of hope. He embodies the potential for transformation and the importance of finding equilibrium in our own lives. The "white drop," the Yod, represents the potential for growth and connection to the divine that resides within each of us.

Next time you feel swallowed by your own "whale," remember Jonah. Remember the dove. Remember the coriander seed. Remember that even in the darkest depths, the potential for rebirth and renewal is always there.

Full source
3 Enoch 22:5, 22C:4, 22C:73 Enoch

What we see here is just a reflection of something far grander: the rainbow of the Shekhinah (the Divine Presence).

The Shekhinah, often translated as "Divine Presence," is the aspect of God that dwells among us, that's closest to creation. And the rainbow? (Genesis 9:13) tells us, "I have set My bow in the clouds." It's God's promise, a reminder of the covenant never to destroy the world by flood again.

The mystics take it even further. This earthly rainbow, they say, has a heavenly counterpart. A rainbow of the Shekhinah that arches above Aravot, the highest heaven. Can you picture it?

It doesn't stop there. Think about Ezekiel's famous vision (Ezekiel 1:28): "Like the appearance of the bow which shines in the clouds on a day of rain, such was the appearance of the surrounding radiance." That radiance, that celestial light, is intimately tied to the Merkavah, the Divine Chariot. We find that the clouds of the rainbow surround the very Throne of Glory itself! Above the arches of the rainbow, are the wheels of the Merkavah, known as the wheels of the Ophanim.

Now, here's where it gets really interesting. The rainbow itself, this incredible arc of divine light, rests upon the shoulders of an angel: Kerubiel, the Prince of the Cherubim.

Imagine this being. As we learn, for instance, in 3 Enoch, he's described in almost the same fiery terms as Metatron, another powerful angel. Kerubiel’s mouth is like a lamp of fire, his tongue a consuming fire, eyebrows like lightning, and eyes like sparks of brilliance. On his head sits a crown of holiness, engraved with God's Name. And between his shoulders? The rainbow of the Shekhinah. And the splendor of the Shekhinah shines on his face.

It's a powerful image, isn't it? This gigantic angel, holding the rainbow. The Zohar, that foundational text of Kabbalah, doesn't shy away from these kinds of vivid descriptions.

Why an angel holding the rainbow? Some say Kerubiel represents the sun.: rainbows often appear after the rain, when the sun breaks through the clouds. The rainbow resting on the angel's shoulders becomes a potent symbol of renewal and hope.

As Ginzberg retells it in Legends of the Jews and as we find in Midrash Rabbah, these images aren't just pretty stories. They’re attempts to grasp the ungraspable, to understand the Divine in ways that resonate with our human experience. They link the earthly and the heavenly, reminding us that even in the darkest of times, the light of the Shekhinah, the promise of the rainbow, is always there.

So, next time you see a rainbow, remember Kerubiel, the Prince of the Cherubim, and the rainbow of the Shekhinah. Remember the promise, the connection, and the ever-present Divine light shining through. What does the rainbow symbolize for you?

Full source
Legends of the Jews 8:20Legends of the Jews

Before the big fish, there's this fascinating little prelude, a kind of "Jonah tries to flee" masterclass.

Jonah gets the divine call, a mission from God. But instead of heading where he's told, he decides to hop on a boat to Tarshish – basically, the opposite direction. He's trying to get away! He arrives in Joppa (modern day Jaffa), hoping to find a ship. But wouldn’t you know it, there's nothing there! No vessel in sight.

God, it seems, isn't quite ready to let Jonah go. To test him, to show him, perhaps, that you can't outrun the Divine, a storm brews. And this storm doesn't just happen – it miraculously pushes a ship that was already two days out at sea back to Joppa.! A ship, already well on its way, forced back to port by a divine wind.

Jonah, interpreting this as a sign of approval, sees this as his golden ticket to escape. He’s so excited about this “opportunity” to leave the land that he pays for the entire cargo of the ship upfront! We're talking a hefty sum here – four thousand gold denarii, according to the tale. That's one expensive getaway!

He sets sail, feeling pretty smug, I imagine. He's outsmarted God. Wrong.

Only a day out from shore, a truly terrifying storm erupts. But here's the kicker: it only targets Jonah's ship. All the other vessels are fine. Just Jonah’s. As Ginzberg retells it in Legends of the Jews, this was no ordinary storm. This was a carefully orchestrated lesson.

What's the lesson? Well, it’s pretty clear. As we find in Midrash Rabbah, God is Lord over everything! Heaven, earth, and sea. There's nowhere you can go to hide from Him.

It makes you think, doesn't it? About the times we try to run from what we know we should be doing. About the futility of trying to hide from something bigger than ourselves. And about the gentle, but persistent, ways the universe has of nudging us back on course. Jonah learned his lesson the hard way, tossed about on a stormy sea. What about us?

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