(ז) וַיִּ֩יצֶר֩ יְהֹוָ֨ה אֱלֹהִ֜ים אֶת־הָֽאָדָ֗ם עָפָר֙ מִן־הָ֣אֲדָמָ֔ה וַיִּפַּ֥ח בְּאַפָּ֖יו נִשְׁמַ֣ת חַיִּ֑ים וַֽיְהִ֥י הָֽאָדָ֖ם לְנֶ֥פֶשׁ חַיָּֽה׃
(7) God יהוה formed the Human from the soil’s humus, blowing into his nostrils the breath of life: the Human became a living being.
(ה) עֲשָׂרָה נִסִּים נַעֲשׂוּ לַאֲבוֹתֵינוּ בְּבֵית הַמִּקְדָּשׁ. לֹא הִפִּילָה אִשָּׁה מֵרֵיחַ בְּשַׂר הַקֹּדֶשׁ, וְלֹא הִסְרִיחַ בְּשַׂר הַקֹּדֶשׁ מֵעוֹלָם, וְלֹא נִרְאָה זְבוּב בְּבֵית הַמִּטְבָּחַיִם, וְלֹא אֵרַע קֶרִי לְכֹהֵן גָּדוֹל בְּיוֹם הַכִּפּוּרִים, וְלֹא כִבּוּ גְשָׁמִים אֵשׁ שֶׁל עֲצֵי הַמַּעֲרָכָה, וְלֹא נָצְחָה הָרוּחַ אֶת עַמּוּד הֶעָשָׁן, וְלֹא נִמְצָא פְסוּל בָּעֹמֶר וּבִשְׁתֵּי הַלֶּחֶם וּבְלֶחֶם הַפָּנִים, עוֹמְדִים צְפוּפִים וּמִשְׁתַּחֲוִים רְוָחִים, וְלֹא הִזִּיק נָחָשׁ וְעַקְרָב בִּירוּשָׁלַיִם מֵעוֹלָם, וְלֹא אָמַר אָדָם לַחֲבֵרוֹ צַר לִי הַמָּקוֹם שֶׁאָלִין בִּירוּשָׁלַיִם:
(5) Ten wonders were wrought for our ancestors in the Temple: [1] no woman miscarried from the odor of the sacred flesh; [2] the sacred flesh never became putrid; [3] no fly was ever seen in the slaughterhouse; [4] no emission occurred to the high priest on the Day of Atonement; [5] the rains did not extinguish the fire of the woodpile; [6] the wind did not prevail against the column of smoke; [7] no defect was found in the omer, or in the two loaves, or in the showbread; [8] the people stood pressed together, yet bowed down and had room enough; [9] never did a serpent or a scorpion harm anyone in Jerusalem; [10] and no man said to his fellow: the place is too congested for me to lodge overnight in Jerusalem.
(ט) וְקִרְבּ֥וֹ וּכְרָעָ֖יו יִרְחַ֣ץ בַּמָּ֑יִם וְהִקְטִ֨יר הַכֹּהֵ֤ן אֶת־הַכֹּל֙ הַמִּזְבֵּ֔חָה עֹלָ֛ה אִשֵּׁ֥ה רֵֽיחַ־נִיח֖וֹחַ לַֽיהֹוָֽה׃ {ס}
(9) Its entrails and legs shall be washed with water, and the priest shall turn the whole into smoke on the altar as a burnt offering, an offering by fire of pleasing odor to יהוה.
(יז) וְשִׁסַּ֨ע אֹת֣וֹ בִכְנָפָיו֮ לֹ֣א יַבְדִּיל֒ וְהִקְטִ֨יר אֹת֤וֹ הַכֹּהֵן֙ הַמִּזְבֵּ֔חָה עַל־הָעֵצִ֖ים אֲשֶׁ֣ר עַל־הָאֵ֑שׁ עֹלָ֣ה ה֗וּא אִשֵּׁ֛ה רֵ֥יחַ נִיחֹ֖חַ לַיהֹוָֽה׃ {ס}
(17) The priest shall tear it open by its wings, without severing it, and turn it into smoke on the altar, upon the wood that is on the fire. It is a burnt offering, an offering by fire, of pleasing odor to יהוה.
(ב) וֶֽהֱבִיאָ֗הּ אֶל־בְּנֵ֣י אַהֲרֹן֮ הַכֹּהֲנִים֒ וְקָמַ֨ץ מִשָּׁ֜ם מְלֹ֣א קֻמְצ֗וֹ מִסׇּלְתָּהּ֙ וּמִשַּׁמְנָ֔הּ עַ֖ל כׇּל־לְבֹנָתָ֑הּ וְהִקְטִ֨יר הַכֹּהֵ֜ן אֶת־אַזְכָּרָתָהּ֙ הַמִּזְבֵּ֔חָה אִשֵּׁ֛ה רֵ֥יחַ נִיחֹ֖חַ לַיהֹוָֽה׃
(2) and present it to Aaron’s sons, the priests. The priest shall scoop out of it a handful of its choice flour and oil, as well as all of its frankincense; and this token portion he shall turn into smoke on the altar, as an offering by fire, of pleasing odor to יהוה.
אֵיתִיבֵיהּ רַב כָּהֲנָא לְרַב יְהוּדָה: מְטַלְטְלִין עֲצֵי בְּשָׂמִים לְהָרִיחַ בָּהֶן, וּלְהָנִיף בָּהֶן לַחוֹלֶה, וּמוֹלְלוֹ וּמֵרִיחַ בּוֹ. וְלֹא יִקְטְמֶנּוּ לְהָרִיחַ בּוֹ, וְאִם קְטָמוֹ — פָּטוּר אֲבָל אָסוּר. לַחְצוֹץ בּוֹ שִׁינָּיו — לָא יִקְטְמֶנּוּ, וְאִם קְטָמוֹ — חַיָּיב חַטָּאת!
Rav Kahana raised an objection to Rav Yehuda from the following baraita: One may handle wood of a spice tree on Shabbat in order to smell them and to wave them before a sick person to fan him. And he may crush it between his fingers to release its fragrance, and he may smell it. However, he may not cut it from the branch in order to produce a moist spot on the branch that will emit a strong fragrance, so as to smell it; and if he did cut it, he is exempt from punishment according to Torah law, but it is prohibited to do so. If he intends to clean his teeth with it, he may not cut it, and if he did cut it, he is liable to bring a sin-offering for transgressing a prohibited labor on Shabbat. This indicates that although some wood of a spice tree was used as animal fodder, it is nevertheless prohibited to cut it. This appears to contradict Rav Yehuda.
Of the five senses, Jewish tradition says that the sense of smell is bursting with holiness. Not sight or sound or touch or taste. The reasoning is that all the other senses were corrupted in the Garden of Eden. But the sense of smell remained as it was with the potential to heal the soul.
In the Garden of Eden, Adam and Eve defiled four out of their five senses. They heard the serpent’s alluring words, the fruit was “a delight to the eyes”, they touched it by taking from its fruit and they tasted it. But the sense of “smell” remained untarnished. Accordingly, this sense denotes inner purity and deep attachment to G-d. As we know God blew life into Adam through his nostrils. Smell retraces the holy, unadulterated level of a Jew’s innermost soul – his neshama – that is indeed free of defilement.
With each of the burnt offerings to God in Leviticus, there is a pleasing odor. Whether the smell of animal or grain or incense, the smoke rises to heaven to remind God of God’s love for us. Given that life was given through the nostrils, there is also an association of smell to our life force. We reenact the giving of life through the nostrils when we smell the incense at the end of Shabbat in our Havdalah ceremony.
A passage in the sayings of the ancestors, pirke avot, offers a list of ten wonders that were fashioned for our ancestors in the Temple. The first is that no woman miscarried from the odor of the sacred flesh. The verse challenges us to connect an act used to praise God with the protection of new life within the womb.
With the destruction of the temple, the system of sacrifice was abandoned. If Pirke Avot is to be believed, more women would now suffer the loss of a miscarriage. The sacrificial ritual for preserving life has gone and no ritual has taken its place.
Approximately twenty percent of all pregnancies, about one in five, will end in a miscarriage. An embryo isn’t a life in Jewish law. In fact, Talmud says the embryo is merely water (Yevamot 69b). No kaddish is said after a miscarriage. No burial is required. In fact, there is no Jewish ritual associated with any pregnancy until after birth. Moreover, Judaism offers little comfort to the women and men who suffer the anguish of a miscarriage.
The absence of a public ritual may leave the putative mother bereft. Friends and family are at a loss as to how to respond. The bereaved should not feel shunned and abandoned in their time of grief.
Judaism can create a ritual. I believe that it should engage our sense of smell. Something sweet to remind us that there is still goodness to be found in the world. Something pleasant to restore our soul. Something savory to remind us that blessings are precious. And perhaps the ritual should take place on Saturday night after Shabbat, when we re-ensoul ourselves with incense.
A mother expects to see her child, feel its tender skin, and quell its cries. I suspect that no ritual can supplant those expectations or satiate those senses. Should this notion speak to you, please offer your thoughts on how we can provide balm in the ritual context, to offer comfort and hope to the mother who has suffered a miscarriage.
In the Garden of Eden, Adam and Eve defiled four out of their five senses. They heard the serpent’s alluring words, the fruit was “a delight to the eyes”, they touched it by taking from its fruit and they tasted it. But the sense of “smell” remained untarnished. Accordingly, this sense denotes inner purity and deep attachment to G-d. As we know God blew life into Adam through his nostrils. Smell retraces the holy, unadulterated level of a Jew’s innermost soul – his neshama – that is indeed free of defilement.
With each of the burnt offerings to God in Leviticus, there is a pleasing odor. Whether the smell of animal or grain or incense, the smoke rises to heaven to remind God of God’s love for us. Given that life was given through the nostrils, there is also an association of smell to our life force. We reenact the giving of life through the nostrils when we smell the incense at the end of Shabbat in our Havdalah ceremony.
A passage in the sayings of the ancestors, pirke avot, offers a list of ten wonders that were fashioned for our ancestors in the Temple. The first is that no woman miscarried from the odor of the sacred flesh. The verse challenges us to connect an act used to praise God with the protection of new life within the womb.
With the destruction of the temple, the system of sacrifice was abandoned. If Pirke Avot is to be believed, more women would now suffer the loss of a miscarriage. The sacrificial ritual for preserving life has gone and no ritual has taken its place.
Approximately twenty percent of all pregnancies, about one in five, will end in a miscarriage. An embryo isn’t a life in Jewish law. In fact, Talmud says the embryo is merely water (Yevamot 69b). No kaddish is said after a miscarriage. No burial is required. In fact, there is no Jewish ritual associated with any pregnancy until after birth. Moreover, Judaism offers little comfort to the women and men who suffer the anguish of a miscarriage.
The absence of a public ritual may leave the putative mother bereft. Friends and family are at a loss as to how to respond. The bereaved should not feel shunned and abandoned in their time of grief.
Judaism can create a ritual. I believe that it should engage our sense of smell. Something sweet to remind us that there is still goodness to be found in the world. Something pleasant to restore our soul. Something savory to remind us that blessings are precious. And perhaps the ritual should take place on Saturday night after Shabbat, when we re-ensoul ourselves with incense.
A mother expects to see her child, feel its tender skin, and quell its cries. I suspect that no ritual can supplant those expectations or satiate those senses. Should this notion speak to you, please offer your thoughts on how we can provide balm in the ritual context, to offer comfort and hope to the mother who has suffered a miscarriage.