In search of the flavor of God


Did you know that belief in scent was a marker of holiness in ancient times? This idea may seem strange to people today, if only because it challenges much of the modern world's inherited understanding of the nature of God.

Ever since Plato first took "the good" outside the realm of forms, an influential branch of theology has argued for the immateriality and ineffability of God, radically different from the world we experience.

What does this suggest?

That if God has no Body, He has no Flavor.


It was these statements that led ascetics such as St. Simeon the Stolpnik and generations of monks and nuns to reject the worldly realm and spend their lives in contemplation of "higher things."


But we will try to understand the nature of God in a different way - not by withdrawing from the world, but by accepting our sensual experience of it.

 All the more so, throughout the ages we see the desire of people to know the flavor of God and the Divine.


Within this tradition, smell has long been a method of interacting with the divine and attempting to understand it.

"Christianity emerged in a world where odors mattered," historians write.


 "A common understanding prevailed that sensory experiences carried effective power for good and for evil."


Take for example the scent of Frankincense.


For the Egyptians and many others in the ancient world, the smell of frankincense was not just a fragrance for worship, but a sign (and prerequisite) of the presence of the Divine.

 

The ancient Egyptians referred to the lands of Oman as the "divine land" where thousands of tons of Boswellia trees were harvested and worshipped by goats who roamed among the incense trees and whose beards smelled the magical fragrances of incense.


Among Christians it was once believed that the use of frankincense in worship began with Moses, who was given a specific recipe in the Book of Exodus for the exclusive use of frankincense in the temple. Its smoke was to be used to protect the high priest from the appearance of God at the gracious holy place of the Ark.

But this attitude toward fragrances was not always the case.


Christians initially rejected the use of scents in worship, associating them with the pagan cults that preceded their revelation and were their direct competitors. In the first centuries A.D., "incense burner" became synonymous with apostate - one who offered sacrifice to the Roman emperor instead of facing the glory of martyrdom.


Of course, this was not without the artificial incitement of religious discord. At the time of Jesus, the Roman Empire imported up to 10,000 camel loads of frankincense a year, the equivalent of about 1,700 tons.

"Do not suppose that Almighty God commanded this," wrote Origen, one of the first Christian theologians, "and consecrated ... in the Law that incense should be brought from Arabia.

But fragrances and AromaMemory cannot be defeated!


And by as early as 500 A.D., things had changed. Incense quickly became a fundamental part of increasingly public worship, Christianity developed, as historians write, a "lavishly olfactory piety" where incense "permeated all forms of Christian ceremonial."

It must be said that odors and their relationship to the Divine are quite complex.

As in the tombs of the saints, the odor of holiness was often mixed with the stench of decay and death. Ancient cities, historians have written, were characterized by "the stench of human excrement, garbage, and disease, accompanied by soothing floral scents and perfumes."

Sacred odors, such as frankincense and myrrh, were used for centuries to delineate sacred space and to disinfect and mask putrid odors.

This gave holy odors a fundamentally paradoxical character. In a world where breathing foul-smelling air was seen as the cause of many diseases, fragrances in the form of incense were seen as a barrier against disease and against demonic possession.


On one side was the odor of deep decay, on the other the aroma of seducing devout parishioners with worldly pleasures and body odors.


Even the unpleasant odors had an ambiguous quality. After all, the rotting stinking odor from the mouth of a starving ascetic was another proof of his profound holiness.

It is this ambiguity about odor that gives fragrance the power of a theological tool.

The experience of fragrance often reflects our understanding of divinity.

Like God, fragrance can surround us from an indeterminate source, filling spaces with its invisible presence.


But unlike sound, to experience fragrance, it must first be taken inward, in an act of breathing that is both life-giving and volitional.


We know that Olfaction acts differently on our brain than other senses. What makes the sense of smell unique is that olfactory neurons deliver their information directly to the limbic system, the part of our brain primarily responsible for memory and emotion. Odors can evoke certain moods and influence our perception of the world around us, slowing it down or speeding it up.

It has long been known that common varieties of scents, such as frankincense, have antidepressant, relaxing, and memory-enhancing effects.


Also, fragrances create a sense of community, including the mechanisms of our "spiritual memories," of living God and the Divine.


Mechanisms that are potentially more deeply rooted and emotionally attached than many other sensory or verbal commitments.


Today we have the opportunity to reframe and expand our experience of the flavor of God. It can come to us at the first whiff of the aroma of coffee, incense, or generally something inexplicable and elusive.

I think the search for the flavors of God and the Divine will go on forever.


If you liked the article - give it a like, write your thoughts on this topic, share it with those who love fragrances and are searching for their Divine scent!




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