You remember the story: the floodwaters are receding, and Noah sends out a dove to see if there's dry land. The first time, she returns with nothing. The second time, with an olive branch. But the text says, "the dove made no more return to him." What does that mean?
Philo, a Jewish philosopher living in Alexandria around the time of Jesus, wrestled with this detail. He saw in the dove a symbol of arete, or virtue. Now, Philo was deeply influenced by Greek thought, so he often used Greek terms to explain Jewish concepts. Here, he suggests the dove's journey isn't just about finding land. It’s about virtue seeking a home in the world.
Philo argues that the dove's final absence isn't a sign of alienation from Noah. It’s not that virtue has abandoned him. Instead, he says, the dove is "sent forth like a sun-beam to pay a visit of examination to the natures of others." Think of it: virtue, like a ray of sunshine, goes out to illuminate the world, to see who's receptive to its light.
But here's the rub: it doesn't find anyone listening to its "precepts of correction." Ouch. So, according to Philo, the dove "returns, and properly comes to him alone." Virtue, in a way, retreats to where it is valued, to the one person who embodies it.
But there's another layer. Philo adds that this time, virtue "is no longer the possession of one single individual, but is rather a common good to all those who have been willing to receive the emanations of wisdom." It's as if the dove's journey, even in its seeming failure, has broadened the scope of virtue. It's not just for Noah anymore. It's available to anyone "who from the very beginning have laboured under a great thirst of perfect wisdom."
So, what's the takeaway? Perhaps it's this: sometimes, our efforts to share what we value most – our wisdom, our virtue, our best selves – might seem to fall flat. We might feel like the dove, returning with nothing to show for our efforts. But Philo reminds us that even those journeys can plant seeds. They can illuminate the possibility of virtue in others, creating a thirst for wisdom that, in time, might just change the world. And perhaps, that's a more profound kind of return than we initially imagined.