Advent 13: THE SCENTS OF THE SEASON

 

ADVENT SENSE

When our sons were small they had a “scented storybook” they especially liked:  The Sweet Smell of Christmas by Patricia M. Scarry, Richard Scarry’s wife.  The book was about Little Bear (I should say is because it’s still being published) and during Bear's holiday experience he smelled, as I recall, gingerbread, apple pie, hot chocolate, and evergreen.  Maybe a candy cane, too.  And the reader could Scratch 'n' Sniff and smell it all right along with him. 

The Advent season is teeming with good smells: the musky bite of evergreen; the earthy odors of growing things like poinsettia and Christmas cactus and amaryllis; the tang of cinnamon and clove and ginger; and the tummy-rumbling heaven of breads and cookies and turkey and stuffing and onion soup or whatever might be in the oven or on the stove.  (I'm getting hungry.)

Last week when Tom and I walked into Ganim’s Garden Center to get our tree and wreaths, the smells were so intense and so familiar I remember thinking, if you dropped me here blindfolded I bet I would know where I was by the smell.

Even the dubious odor I inhaled a few days ago when I unpacked the garland for our staircase bannister--an odor made up of the mold and mildew and dust that lurk in the corners of our Christmas boxes —even that carried with it the reminder of happy times and holidays past.  It made me sneeze, but it also filled me with good cheer.

Why is it that smells evoke such strong feelings and such powerful memories?  

Apparently our sense of smell is uniquely able to evoke memories because our brains process odors through our olfactory bulb, which is closely connected to the brain areas that handle memory and emotion.  Sight, hearing and touch aren't processed through those brain areas, which may be why those senses don't trigger memories as intensely.  (Thank you, Dr. Joseph Mercola.)

We are blessed with five senses, and blessed to be living in a time in which we are encouraged to use them.  The Cartesian view of the body, mind and spirit as separate entities has been shown to be not only wrong but extremely unhelpful. 
  

Perhaps the lush nativity stories of Matthew and Luke are so appealing because they pique our senses. We see the star sail high in the heavens, and the exotic magi following; we hear the choir of angel voices lift their spectacular Gloria;  we sniff the organic aroma of all that livestock--and possibly some of the shepherds as well, it’s not a desk job after all.  Even the kings were on the road a long time.

The ancient Celtic Christians were famous for their holistic worship.  Not only did they seek and find God's presence throughout the natural world, they worshiped that presence with their whole being.  For them there were no artificial divisions between body, mind or spirit.

They instinctively knew what we have only just begun to discover:  

 we ARE our souls in flesh.

Unseeable

I have seen you this day

in the lights of the skies,

in the green of the earth, 

in flowing waters.

 

Untouchable

I have felt you this day

in the warmth of the sun,

in the wildness of wind,

in the touch of another.

 

In and beyond my senses, 

in taste and touch and sound

your mystery has been made known.

 

At the ending of the day,

in the darkness of the night,

in and beyond my senses 

let me know your presence, O God,

let me know your everlasting presence. 

 

          ~J. Philip Newell, Sounds of the Eternal, p. 80.