Turns out, the rabbinic tradition has quite a bit to say about its motivations and character.
The Torah tells us, "Noah opened the window of the ark that he had made and sent out the raven; it went to and fro until the waters had dried up from the earth" (Gen. 8:6-7). Simple enough, right? But beneath the surface, a whole drama unfolds.
According to some interpretations, when Noah asked the raven to leave the ark and search for land, the raven wasn't exactly thrilled. In fact, it was downright incensed! Can you imagine? This wasn't a simple, "Yes, sir, right away!" kind of situation. The raven apparently had some serious grievances to air.
"Of all the birds in the ark, why pick on me?" the raven supposedly squawked. The nerve! It then accuses Noah of playing favorites. "Your Master hates me since He commanded you to bring seven pairs of the clean creatures into the ark, but only one pair of the unclean, like me." Ouch. That’s gotta sting.
The raven continues, suggesting that Noah hates him and is trying to get rid of him: “You could have chosen any one of the species of which there are seven pairs, but instead you chose me. What if the Angel of Heat or the Angel of Cold should smite me, wouldn't the world be short one kind? So why is it that you chose me? Or do you desire my mate?" The nerve! Accusations of avian adultery!
But there's more. Another tradition paints a different, equally unflattering picture. Instead of arguing with Noah, the raven does fly off. But what does it do? According to this version, it "went forth to and fro (Gen. 8:7) until it found a carcass of a man upon the summit of a mountain. It settled there and did not return to the ark." Charming, right? So, instead of fulfilling its mission, it finds the first available corpse and has a feast. No wonder Noah then sends out the dove!
It’s fascinating how the rabbis use these seemingly small details in the Torah to explore deeper themes. One of the requirements that God gives to Noah concerns the beasts he is to bring into the ark: “Of every clean beast you shall take seven and seven, each with his mate; and of the unclean beasts, two and two, each with his mate (Gen. 7:2).” This passage seems to allude to the system of kashrut, Kosher laws, based on Leviticus 11:47.
What we see here is a classic good-versus-evil dynamic, mirrored in the animal kingdom. As Rabbi Schwartz points out in Tree of Souls, just as we have figures like Esau and Jacob, or Lilith and Eve, we find similar polar opposites in the raven and the dove. The Midrash, in sources like Midrash Rabbah, uses these characters to explore complex moral questions.
Why does the raven get this bad rap? Perhaps it's because, as these stories suggest, the raven represents selfishness, disobedience, and a lack of concern for the greater good. It chooses personal gratification (a free meal!) over fulfilling its duty.
It's a reminder that even within the animal kingdom – and certainly within ourselves – there's a constant struggle between our higher and lower natures. Are we going to be the helpful dove, seeking to bring good news and hope? Or are we going to be the raven, focused only on our own immediate desires, consequences be damned?
These fables, common in rabbinic literature, with their talking animals, aren't just whimsical tales. They're powerful allegories that force us to confront uncomfortable truths about ourselves and the choices we make. So, next time you see a raven, maybe you'll think twice before judging it too harshly. After all, it might just be holding up a mirror to our own souls.