Passover, Perfume, and a Presence
CW: Accidental death.
Before reading Deborah Green’s The Aroma of Righteousness, I was really excited to learn about the different scents mentioned in the Hebrew Bible and what they were associated with. I hadn’t realized the rich, religious histories behind, and uses for, some of my favorite scents: myrrh, frankincense, balsam, rose, flowers, etc. Amanda’s post on Green’s analysis of women and smell in Rabbinic texts definitely inspired me to think about the highly debated “scent of women”. My best friend Mira lives in a house with her mom and grandmother, two lady cats and a female yorkie terrier named Bella. I have spent a lot of time at this house filled with ladies and the scent of their perfume, cigarette smoke, candles, nail polish, incense, shampoo, lotion, and food on the stove. Mira’s Nana smokes Winston Reds inside, and it makes its way into everything in every room of the house. It’s faint, but it’s her signature touch! When I think of “how women smell”, I think of Mira’s home. Amanda writes, “It seems that the idea of the sensual woman, bathed in rich smells, hasn’t died since the Rabbinic tradition explored in Green’s book was discussed and established”. Women smell like perfume, flowers, soil, chemicals, lotion, smoke, sweat, metal, etc. People can smell like anything really, and quite strongly too! In my last blog post, I talked about how much I love the rich, layered smells of old houses, and I think we crave for that in people, too. It’s lovely to give someone a hug and smell their perfume, shampoo, and lingering scent of their morning coffee or the brownies they baked that day. I love the way Mira smells: it isn’t one single, easily-identifiable scent, but it is perfect.Mira and her two cats, Keko and Cuddles
It’s strange to think about how we link scents to powerful memories. This next story is very disturbing and upsetting, but it's proof that our smell-memories are long-lasting. When I was little, my sister and I weren’t allowed to eat bananas around my grandfather. I thought he just hated the smell for no reason in particular, but I later learned that in the 1950s, he had worked in a food processing plant and witnessed a horrible accident- a man was killed right in front of him after being caught in heavy machinery. The plant apparently smelled strongly of bananas, and so every time he would smell this seemingly innocuous scent all these years later, he was transported back to that terrible day. I’m sure there is someone out there who, when they smell bananas, are filled with happy memories. And some people might feel sick at the smell of cigarettes, but it reminds me of wonderful and carefree summers at my best friend’s house. It’s really incredible how the sense of smell can be far more triggering to someone than visual or auditory cues.
As Green writes about in her book, scents that were designated as holy and spiritual (and separated from scents culturally deemed as “bad”) are an important component of religious ritual and practice in places of worship, and in the home as well. We discussed in class how nearly all religions aim to alter or heighten their followers’ senses in some way, and I have learned how these “smells and bells” sort of condition people to feel a close emotional and physical connection to their spirituality. Learning about the flexibility and playfulness of Midrashim reminded me of my personal experiences with Judaism. Every year, (pre-pandemic) I would go to Passover Seder at a family friend’s house. The very kind woman who hosts us is an anthropologist, and her house is decorated with objects and paintings from all over the world. The environment of her home, in combination with the scents and tastes of the delicious food that has been cooked, creates a very sensory experience. The smell of a loving home envelopes you and, much like a place of worship that plays with your senses to evoke the feeling of God’s presence, reminds you that you are not alone.
What a beautiful, thoughtful, heartfelt post.
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