The Scent of Home

“And the Lord God formed man from the dust of the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and man became a living being” (Genesis 2:7)

Life came from God’s Spirit breathed into the man’s nostrils. Can it be also that the fragrance of divinity has remained with us as a subtle reminder that a human being is more than mere dust—that we are destined to be wherever God is?

Consider the salmon in NW Canada and Alaska. They are spawned there in the rivers and streams, then they are borne far from the rivers of home into the Pacific Ocean a thousand miles away to grow and develop for as much as five years. After reaching maturity, they follow an instinct that sends them back home, the very locale where they had been spawned. What is it that guides them home? It’s the familiar scent they carried with them for so long and so far—the recollection of their birthplace. Among the most amazing wonders of nature is that of the relentless drive or passion propelling salmon from the ocean upstream over natural and human obstacles and barriers, which thwart their return. They continue to leap at high cataracts until they traverse their height or die of exhaustion. Ignoring bear, eagle and man feeding on their delicious bodies, they pursue their goal relentlessly. All because of the smell of home.

We utilize the fragrance of incense in a similar manner. Originally its purpose was to disguise the rotting smell of death as that which belongs to the dust returns to earth. Yet at the same time we remind one another that while our dead bodies take on the aroma of earth and corruption, God’s breath is never forgotten. The aroma of holiness held in abeyance deep within our psyches invites us to rise beyond the merely mortal and rekindle the yearning to be wherever our heavenly Father is—for He is calling us home.

The olfactory sense of us humans is perhaps the least utilized and developed of all our senses. Unlike our brother animals—dogs, sharks, bears, and of course salmon—many of our kind get along fine without it. But the Orthodox Church defined as holy is set apart from all other buildings and assembly halls. It deserves a unique bouquet.

Upscale homes often have closets lined with cedar wood, so that the smell of that scent is left on the clothing. One incidental blessing of the priesthood is that our closets capture the perfume we bring home in our cassocks. The variety of subtle scents from the incense made in monasteries is designed to enhance our lives and provide us with a constant reminder that ultimately we are not really home anywhere on the earth and we ought not to be satisfied or content until we arrive at our journey’s end somewhere that is no place and no time…but with the Lord wherever He abides for an end to time.

I’ve heard the complaint that our use of incense is often too overpowering. That can be the case when acolytes, deacons or priests seem to feel that the more smoke they make, the better the prayers. They should learn that less is more. Incense instead when used appropriately should be wafted as a subtle, unobtrusive recollection of our homeland. Like a lady of culture who dabs a moist finger to her nape with an exquisite perfume, then passes through a group leaving a vague sublime awareness of a pleasant fragrance, so too incense ought to float through the praying community as a subconscious reminder that the people of God belong with God, wherever God is—in this world and time, or in our ultimate eternal homeland.