The Sweet Aroma of Prayer

Parashat Tetzaveh, Exodus 27:20–30:10

Rabbi Paul L. Saal, Congregation Shuvah Yisrael, West Hartford, CT

I cannot recall ever smelling incense burning in shul. In my mind, such practices seemed to belong categorically to Roman Catholic or Orthodox churches, or to Buddhist shrines. Most of my own experiences with the scent of burnt fragrances occurred in the dormitory during my college years, when coeds would use incense to cover the smell of illicit cannabis. Clearly, the use of incense was foreign to my own religious experience, and yet, the Torah in both this week’s portion, Tetzaveh, and next week’s, Ki Tisa, describes the burning of aromatic spices, or K’toret, as an important and normative practice for the Kohanim in the Mishkan, the priests in the Tabernacle.

The incense was to be burned by the Kohanim on the golden altar in the Holy Place, just outside the Holy of Holies, before the Ark of the Covenant, both morning and evening each day (Exod 30:1–8). Apparently, this fragrant offering was so crucial that altering its formula or contents in any way would cause estrangement from the entire community (30:37–38). Such an alteration may have been the cause of the death of Nadab and Abihu, the sons of Aaron the Kohen Gadol (Lev 10:1–2), further emphasizing the significance of these burnt offerings.

But why was incense so central to the worship of ancient Israel, when it seems to have no place in Jewish worship today? And how might we derive meaning from this practice for today? First, we must recognize that we live in a world that is separated from theirs not only by time and distance but also by fundamentally different worldviews. Modern worshipers are part of a principally cerebral world, where our worship is dominated by articulated ideas. In contrast, ancient Israel was more attuned to phenomena and sensory experience. Their worship was enriched and defined by sights, sounds, and, yes, even smells. The rising scent from the golden altar was meant to accompany, and perhaps even define, the prayers of Israel. This is why the psalmist pleads, “May my prayer be set before you like incense; may the lifting up of my hands be like the evening sacrifice” (Psa 141:2), and why the author of the New Covenant Apocalypse uses the same figurative language (Rev 5:8; 8:3, 4).

To help translate the meaning of K’toret for today, I like to use an acronym that provides not just the formula for incense but a formula for appropriate prayer as well—Kedusha (holiness), Tohar (purity), Rachamim (mercy), and Tikvah (hope).

● Kedusha (holiness) – Appropriate prayer must encompass all that is holy and sacred. When the community of faith prays, it must envision itself as set apart and sanctified, preparing for the Age to Come. We realize that our actions matter, and they have the potential to sanctify God’s name in this world (Kiddush HaShem). Holiness has a sense of locality and proximity; just as the Holy Place was the only appropriate place to burn the sacred incense, we must create sacred spaces (synagogues) and sacred times (such as Shabbat) for prayer.

● Tohar (purity) – Prayer should be offered in an orderly fashion and from pure hearts. Tohar suggests an appropriate state of being for all of creation. Every creation and creature have a unique and appropriate state of being, which can also describe the proper state of being when coming into God’s presence. Nadab and Abihu’s disastrous results came when they tried to innovate and offer “strange fire,” as we mentioned earlier. The Apostle Paul often spoke of the importance of proper order in worship (1 Cor 14). Jewish prayer should follow the structure of keva (order) and kavanah (intention) to maintain purity. Without these, our prayers may be sincere but not authentically Jewish.

● Rachamim (mercy, compassion) – Prayers without genuine compassion are faithless (James 2:16). God would not even hear Israel’s prayers if they failed to care for the widow and the orphan (Isa 48). Jewish tradition tells the story of Rabbi Moshe Leib of Sassov, who was late for Kol Nidre one year. When asked why, he explained that on his way to shul, he encountered an unattended child that he took time to attend. Although expected at the Yom Kippur service, he explained, “In our prayers, we often call God HaRachaman (the merciful one), but an act of rachmanut (mercy) is also a prayer.”

● Tikvah (hope) – “Now faith is being sure of what we hope for . . .” (Heb 11:1). In July 1944, just a month before the Nazis captured her and her family, Anne Frank wrote in her diary: “I see the world gradually being turned into a wilderness. I hear the ever-approaching thunder that will destroy us too. I can feel the sufferings of millions. And yet, if I look up into the heavens, I think that it will all come out all right, that this cruelty too will end, and that peace and tranquility will return again.” Prayer demands that we speak into the world as it is, with the assurance of a world that does not yet exist. It is only through the hope and trust in God’s promises that our prayers can be truly effective.

While we no longer burn incense, symbolically, we can continue to offer a sweet savor to the nostrils of HaShem. We do this by sanctifying God’s name, ourselves, and those around us. This is only possible by keeping ourselves pure and maintaining God’s highest standards. We must grow in compassion and show pity to those who may not deserve it. Finally, we must maintain hope—not in utopian illusions or theological abstractions, but in God’s promises and in the substance of the age that will surely come.