After recognising the first letter, I realised that I could identify (with confirmation online) that this large text was actually the Tetragrammaton, in Judaism the ineffable and most sacred name of God, albeit that its letters were highly stylised. Altogether, we have the phrase “יראת ה’“, “fear of God”.

Now because, for those who can read it, the graffiti includes the Name of God, does this mean it cannot be erased as would usually be the case with this four-letter name?

We know that God’s name written in another language (or the word “God”) has no prohibition against its destruction. We find in the Shach on Yoreh Deah 179:11 (and brought similarly in the Mishnah Berura 85:10):

השם בל’ הקדש הוא שם אבל בלשון חול אינו שם כלל והגע עצמך דהא מותר למחות שם שנכתב בלשון חול כגון גאט בלשון אשכנז או בו”ג בלשון פולי”ן ורוסי”א וכיוצא בזה

The Name in the Holy Language is a name, but in a non-holy language it is not a name at all, and behold it is permitted to erase a name that is written in a non-holy language like “Gott” in German or “Bog” in Polish or Russian, etc.

Clearly, there, the name in a non-holy language is not to be considered holy itself.

So is the text of this graffiti considered the Holy Hebrew language? Not if it is in fact Moabite: The stylising, especially of the vav (but also heh and resh) are less akin to Hebrew than the Moabite alphabet as found on the Mesha Stele (see alphabet charts 1, 2, 3; or possibly Phoenecian). The א used in יראת is not close to any ancient script I can quickly find, again pointing to merely a stylised font. And in the end, the words have obviously been written with the intent of Hebrew.

So is this font, albeit stylised, still Hebrew? Modern Hebrew print is also stylised, and still God’s name in such a font would usually be unerasable to my knowledge. Does this law apply to other common scripts like Israeli/Yiddish hand, or “Rashi” script?

On occasion, the Talmud actually tells us that the Ancient Hebrew script is without religious value. The mishnah in Megillah 8b states that while books may be in any language, tefillin and mezuzot must be written in the Assyrian Script. Further, the gemara adds:

כתב עברי אינו מטמא את הידים עד שיכתבנו בכתב אשורית על הספר ובדיו

Hebrew Script does not impurify the hands [signifying its holiness], until one writes it in Assyrian Script upon the [parchment] scroll and in ink.

This may well be our answer and clarify that a script that is not akin to the Assyrian script would not be considered holy. But the conclusion is far from certain.

Curiously, for instance, we find in the Dead Sea Scrolls a number of biblical documents where the entire text is Assyrian, with the Tetragrammaton alone in Hebrew Script (some Psalms examples; a form of diglossia?). Some have argued that this would make damage to the scroll less critical: having the Holy Name in the unholy Hebrew Script means that the scroll can be treated more loosely (and it may not impurify one’s hands). On the other hand, one can also argue that this change of writing illustrates some special sanctity attached to the Divine Name in that script. This is supported by fragments of early Greek translations of the bible that also include the Tetragrammaton in Hebrew!

Even if we are to take the Dead Sea Scrolls as evidence for the significance of God’s name in Ancient Hebrew script (something contemporary Rabbinic authorities would unlikely rely on), we may also note that the Efrat graffiti looks little like the Name as found in the scrolls mentioned.

Finally, we have two more criteria on the unerasability of God’s name. The first is permanence, and it is arguable that graffiti by it’s nature is not intended to be permanent, although paint on stone is a permanent medium. The second is that its purpose needs to be consecrated: that is, the one that wrote it was not merely putting four letters down that turned out to compose God’s name; nor was it written in malice or by a non-believer. The intentions of the graffiti artist are maybe too unclear.

The sources brought seem to allow us to remove the graffiti in Efrat, and even if it is not clear, they bring enough doubt into the sanctity of the text. Nonetheless, it is still a surprising and unexpected situation to be encountered with.

Shani had sent me this article in response to my asking: Where do these symbols of peace come from? Is the origin within the biblical story of Noah? Is their adoption much earlier, or much later?

the dove

The bible first refers to both the olive and the dove in connection with Noah and the flood (Genesis 8:6-12):

And it came to pass at the end of forty days, that Noah opened the window of the ark which he had made. And he sent forth a raven, and it went forth to and fro, until the waters were dried up from off the earth. And he sent forth a dove from him, to see if the waters were abated from off the face of the ground. But the dove found no rest for the sole of her foot, and she returned unto him to the ark, for the waters were on the face of the whole earth; and he put forth his hand, and took her, and brought her in unto him into the ark. And he stayed yet other seven days; and again he sent forth the dove out of the ark. And the dove came in to him at eventide; and lo in her mouth an olive-leaf freshly plucked; so Noah knew that the waters were abated from off the earth. And he stayed yet other seven days; and sent forth the dove; and she returned not again unto him any more.

The raven is no symbol of peace, and is more often a symbol of bloodshed and battle. And the passage certainly describes a pretty picture, but it’s not clear from this biblical passage that the dove, or olive branch, or the two together, should mean anything about peace. It just means “it’s nearly safe to come outside”! The common image, though, is that the dove is the heralder or harbringer of peace.

Noah’s deluge story is not alone in using birds to identify a safe exit: Sumerian Gilgamesh XI tells the story of Utnapishtim in an ark with family and animals to escape the flood brought on by the gods. There he sends out a dove, and a swallow, and finally a raven that does not return, signalling time to exit. One site indicates that a dove was also used in an Aztec flood story, and of three birds being sent in a Chaldean version. Nonetheless, these are unlikely related to the modern symbology.

It may be worthwhile to explore the bible for dove imagery elsewhere. One relevant example is the psalmist expressing a desire for escape from persecution: “And I said: ‘Oh that I had wings like a dove! then would I fly away, and be at rest. Lo, then would I wander far off, I would lodge in the wilderness. Selah. I would haste me to a shelter from the stormy wind and tempest.’” (55:7-9) Isaiah refers to the moan of the dove twice (38:14, 59:11), as does Nahum 2:7. For a more contrary perspective, Hosea seems to indicate the dove’s foolishness, “כְּיוֹנָה פוֹתָה אֵין לֵב” “Like a silly dove, mindless” (7:11). The Song of Songs praises eyes like doves (1:15, 4:1, 5:12); elsewhere “O my dove, in the clefts of the rock,” (2:14); and “my dove, my perfect one” (5:2, 6:9). In the prophets, then, there is no clear symbolism of the dove towards peace, but Psalms and the Song (and possibly also Hosea) do seem to be presenting the expected image of innocence and purity.

The dove and turtledove are also the only birds institutionalised in Israelite sacrifice, and is considered the poor man’s sacrifice (Lev. 14:21ff).

The dove is also praised in the Greek world: it represented Athena who made a constellation of the dove that guided the Agronauts ship through the crushing rocks of the entry to the Black Sea. Bryant’s Analysis of Ancient Mythology (quoted here) suggests that the dove was seen as a maternal figure as a result of its gentleness and devotion to its young. Thus associated with femininity, it is sacred to a number of Greek goddesses: Astarte, Cybele, Isis, Venus, Juno, Mylitta and Aphrodite. While this follows the patterned image of the bird’s innocence, it does not clearly identify a symbolism of peace.

According to the Catholic Encyclopedia, the dove in Christianity represents the Holy Spirit (as in Matthew 3:16 and the other three gospels), where the Spirit descends as a dove upon Jesus at his baptism. Elsewhere in Matthew (10:16), the dove is also used in simile for innocence. The 4th century patristic text of St Augustine (on Gospels of John Tractate 7:3) asks why the baptism was performed by means of a dove: Many things were said, and I am not able, nor is there need that I should go over all;—principally, however, to denote peace, because also the trees which were baptized outside, because the dove found in them fruit, it brought to the ark, as you remember the dove sent out by Noah from the ark, which floated on the flood and was washed by baptism, was not submerged.

Examining some of the commentaries (the Jewish ones at least) on the Genesis passage, we also get some interesting ideas about this choice bird. S.R. Hirsch (1808–1888) suggests that the Raven (עורב) was first sent because it “normally does not seek the vicinity of men; rather, ערבה, wilderness is its home”. So if it returns when sent, there must be no possible home outside. The dove, on the other hand, is accustomed to living among human beings, and so its residence outside indicates a much more comfortable environment.

Much more recently, we find doves used as symbols in works of art. Pablo Picasso painted a number of famous dove images, such as “Child with Dove”. Picasso kept a number of birds, and doves & pigeons were among his favourite to portray.

Elsewhere in art, and particularly sculpture, doves are often seen kissing: an image of love (possibly inspired by the Greek symbology). Associated with both the images of peace and of love, we are often also brought to imagine the mournful sound of “when doves cry” (for Prince it was more about a relationship than about world values).

And now we have doves in parliament. I get the impression that, like the hawk for the right side, this is meant to be a slightly insulting label. Just as hawks are imagined to be fierce and cruel, the dove is not just used here as a symbol of peace, but also as an image of being tame, even incapable. In the same way, things can be “lovey-dovey”, which doesn’t just make them calm and innocent, but exaggeratedly so, to the extent of being boring or disgusting. We can’t forget Dove chocolate, which depends on sensual, creamy, smooth pictures of liquid chocolate to compare to the implied softness and calm of the dove.

The major image we find of the dove, then, is not merely one of peace as is portrayed in the Noah story. It is more one of complete innocence. It may only be when the olive branch is between its beak that the dove most certainly comes to symbolise peace.

the olive

But the olive branch has its own independent symbology: one today may extend an olive branch to a potential partner for peace.

Biblically, one of the seven fruits of the promised land, the olive is often mentioned alongside the vineyard in terms of one’s grove, maybe a symbol of prosperity; its oil too creates light, and only the purest may be brought to light the temple’s lights. In Judges (9:7-15), Jotham tells a parable where the olive tree is the first candidate to be king of all the trees. Many features of Solomon’s temple were made of olive wood (1 Kings 6:23-33). In the prophets such as Jeremiah 11:16 and Hosea 14:6, the olive is a subject of beauty to which Israel is compared.

As a side note, the same rabbinic commentator quoted above disagrees that peace should be the primary symbol represented by the branch in the Noah story. On Gen. 8:11, Hirsch says:

For a whole year the dove had been fed but had not enjoyed טרף, food gained independently by its own efforts. That it had remained out the whole day was already a sign than the waters had receded; it had already found rest for its foot. But it could have been driven back by hunger. Then it arrived with an olive leaf in its mouth as food — something that it normally does not use for food! Our sages take this bitter olive leaf in th emouth of the dove to preach that great face: Bitter, unusual, normally intolerable food, eaten in freedom and independence, is sweeter than the sweetest in a dependent condition. So for us the olive leaf is not a symbol of peace but of the value of independence and freedom and of content and moderation.

This idea of independence, though, is paralleled with that of prosperity that we see both in Hebrew and Greco-Roman tradition.

In some possible coincidence, the olive branch like the dove is associated with Athena in Greek mythology: Athens was to be bestowed upon the god that would give the most useful gift to humanity, and while Poseidon offered the horse (a representative of war), Athena won with the gift of the olive tree. In ancient Greece it was a symbol both of peace and prosperity; in Rome, those defeated in war would carry olive branches (like a white flag) to seek peace, and its senators and consuls would wear the olive branch as a wreath.

The Penguin Dictionary of Symbols suggests that “for Islam, the olive is the central tree, the World axis, a symbol of Universal Man and of the Prophet.”

Wikipedia brings a speculative explanation of why olives may have gathered this understanding: olive trees take a very long time to bear fruit, so the cultivation of olives is something that is generally impossible in time of war. A school named after the olive tree explains at some length why the olive tree is such an effective symbol. Islam online has an article which focusses highly on the nutritional and healing properties of the olive’s oil.

The olive branch features to represent peace on many coats of arms. The United States’ Great Seal bears an eagle (bald-headed) which grasps in its right talon an olive branch of thirteen leaves. The flag of the United Nations flanks the world’s globe in the same branches (stylised a little). Both the emblems of the Israel Defense Forces and the coat of arms of the State bear olive branches. In the former, it twists around a sword, implying that it intends to use the sword for peace; in the latter, it flanks the menorah, an image borrowed from the prophets:

In Zechariah chapter 4 we find a description of a golden candelabrum “and two olive-trees by it, one upon the right side of the bowl, and the other upon the left side thereof”. (Note that these are olive trees, and not merely branches, but the branch is more common in heraldry and is mentioned later in the passage.) And the angel reveals what this image is to represent, with a famous (but opaque) quote, “Not by might, nor by power, but by My spirit, saith the Lord of Hosts.” Zecharia further questions, “what are these two olive trees? … What are these two olive branches, which are beside the two golden spouts, that empty the golden oil out of themselves?” And the angel finally replies “These are the two anointed ones (lit. sons of oil), that stand by the Lord of the whole earth.” It may be these two which the Book of Revelation (11:3-6) considers G-d’s two witnesses who will prophesy in sackcloth for 3.5 years. Either way, if one takes these “two annointed ones” as messianic figures, they surely too are representatives of peace.

Very often the dove and olive branch are pictured together as a symbol, deriving directly from Noah’s story. One among a genre of Hebrew peace songs sung by IDF troupes is Chaya Samir’s “יונה עם עלה של זית” (“Dove with olive branch”), often sung at memorial ceremonies on Israel’s day of remembrance for lost soldiers. A beautiful tune accompanies sweet, dreamy words:

יש לי תמונה בבית של יונה עם עלה של זית
מעליה גלגל החמה, לרגליה פגעי מלחמה
היונה של השלום, על חורבותיה של אומה אחרת
תמונה מושלמת, חלומות בתוך מסגרת
יונה עם עלה של זית
צאי מן התמונה, השיבי את האמונה
שהשלום יבוא בעקבותייך…

I have a picture at home of a dove with an olive branch. Upon it is the wheel of the sun, at its feet are the beatings of war. The dove of peace, upon the ruins of another land. A perfect picture, dreams within a frame. O, dove with olive branch! Escape from the picture! Return the faith that Peace will come at your heels…

The song ends more sadly, the singer lamenting that the picture on her wall reminds her that outside, there is a raven in the trees, while the dove of peace hurries to no place, is forever a tourist, never staying. A moving lyric, and again a comparison of these birds, and a statement that while the dove is a bringer of peace, it is also a slow-moving absent-minded creature, never likely to stay at one place, just as peace so often fails to do.

the rainbow

A third sign of peace is brought from this same episode of Noah. As God sets his bow in the sky (Genesis 9:13), we see the rainbow as a symbol of a covenant never to destroy mankind in one blow again. As such it is a symbol of peace between God and his creations, and the observant Jew with a good memory will recite over it: Blessed are You, Lord, our God, King of the World, who remembers the covenant, is faithful in His covenant and upheld in His statements.

In other cultures, the rainbow finds quite different meaning: Gilgamesh of Sumeria suggests the rainbow gives divine sanction to war; in Greek society it is a pathway from the heavens, as between the Norse Ásgard and Midgard; to the Chinese a slit in the sky, sealed with precious stones; and of course its ends are the prime sites to look for gold (hidden by a leprechaun).

But it seems that the peace idea—maybe more explicit for the rainbow in Genesis than for the dove and olive branch—has been the one most sustained, being associated with various peace, cooperative and social action movements, and the rainbow idea (in its beauty and its symbolism) draws in hippies for Rainbow Gatherings. Now, though, one of the most prevalent implications of the rainbow, as the rainbow flag, is the GLBT movement. In many of these cases, the symbolism is not merely that of peace (especially the biblical peace between G-d and man), but the idea of variety in colour, and the gathering of diversity. While the intention of diversity may have been the original motivation for the rainbow flag associated with homosexuality, I feel that the symbol of peace within the rainbow overhangs it, and its message is really the meaningful one of “peace through difference”.

As the world is essentially reborn, the ending of Noah’s story presents itself as a major paradigm for divine peace and covenant with man. Although it is not always clear when tracing the symbols’ use we see much change in their force over time, the dove, the olive branch and the rainbow have all been borrowed into popular culture as representatives of a hope for peace. May it be upon us in the near future.