December 30, 2009 - The Smell of the Very Creation

     Often, I will smell a smell and it will remind me of something. Do smells do that to you, also?
     The smell of potpourri reminds me of Christmas. This is a fond and faux smell. It is not real. It is just a memory thing to set the mood of a time when such things mulled on the stove and were later drunk with great satisfaction. My father was once fooled by some potpourri on the stove and poured himself a mug only to soon find that this is not something that should be drunk. The fragrant oils and dried botanical matter only serve to give off scent and are not digestible. My father claims that one swig of that libation turned his blood type from positive to negative, made his ears ring, and took 3 years off of his life. That was the last potpourri in my parents’ home.
     A clever church member once gave me a little frankincense and myrrh kit that she thought would make a nifty children’s sermon. I announced this special children’s sermon in advance, and I believe a few extra people showed up that Sunday just for the curiosity of those fragrant botanical items. The children came to the front of the church eagerly. The adults leaned forward with anticipation of the fragrant smells of the botanical items offered as a special gift to Jesus. Everyone felt rather special and a little warm in their bellies. I read of these items from the Bible and proceeded to light them (that is what you do with these items, by the way.) The smoke rose up into the air, and with progressive unison deep breaths, as the aromas wafted to the nether regions of the church sanctuary, the posture of the anticipating congregants changed from leaning forward to lunging backwards into the back of the pew with constricted breathing and deep coughs. Many people left the church, probably going either to the ER, or to a good litigation lawyer to begin to make arrangements to sue the church. Some members later confided in me that one breath of that gift suited for a king turned their blood type from positive to negative, made their ears ring, and took 3 years off of their lives.
     When fixing collard greens, it is always advisable to add a little vinegar to the water. This unlikely ingredient cuts the stench of the cooking of the greens. Of course, many people think the cooking of collards, even with a little vinegar added to the water, should be performed from the home of an enemy who lives at least two counties away. I, on the other hand, have grown accustomed to the smell of collards boiling in a pot on the stove. The smell is a moot point to me. However, I usually keep a few messes of collards around to put on the stove in the event of situations arising when I need to encourage visitors to head home after a lengthy stay.
     The smell of collards boiling reminds me that soon I will have a good meal of greens with some cornbread and chow-chow. This combination is the perfect healthy meal for a cold night when the wind blows. (If you would like some chow-chow, please give me a call since I am down to my last 8 dozen pints after cutting back this year, only canning a total of 22 dozen pints.) However, one group of longevity visitors, who were satisfied to become homesteaders in “my” home, to this day claim that the few breaths they inhaled from the cooking of this green botanical defoliant, (before they packed up and headed back down the road to their own home) turned their blood type from positive to negative, made their ears ring, and took 3 years off of their lives.
     All during Christmas, I have been privy to well-meaning individuals, who over and over again express their deep sorrow that the sweet little Jesus boy had to be born in a barn where the smells were so bad. Good modern Christians go on and on about how the barn is a nasty place with nasty odors. It is unfortunate that good and modern Christians have, from absence of such places, grown to believe that fermentation, composting, and animal life are bad smells. People who work in these environs are quick to know that the sweet smell of a barn is not a bad smell but is really the natural smell of the earth.
     I would like to add to this belief that the smell of a barn is the very smell of the Creation of God. A barn has a godly smell where fermentation is creating the resources needed for the very firmament of God. This firm creation in which we live would soon come to an end without the active bacterial agents that work with other idle botanical materials to produce nutrients needed for agri-business. Surely, as the Lord molded the heavens and the earth, the smell throughout was that of composting and fermentation. In short, the smell of the nativity barn was the very smell of life.
     I cannot imagine the Savior of the world, the very creator of life, the Lord God almighty, being born in any other place than a barn where the rich aromas of the very creation are so pungent. That barn on that night was home to the originator of everything that is and the hope of the kingdom that was to come. The smells were the smells of the work of the “Word” where “in the beginning was the Word, and the word was with God and the Word was God.”
     Most every type of Holy Bible has already been published. However, the one that I would most like to have would be a “Scratch and Sniff Bible.” Much like those perfume ads in the magazines, a Bible student could scratch certain pages and get a whiff of the damp air around the Nile as Moses floated along in a pitch and bulrush bassinette; a scent of the great Cedars of Lebanon as Solomon used them to build his various condominiums around the Temple Mount: an odiferous breeze from a herd of camels as they prepare to lead the caravan back to Esau, as Jacob, (now Israel), fights with an angel at the Jabok; or the wheezy dry air of the wilderness as Moses and the Children of Israel made their way to the Promised Land
     The other day, I was sitting with a group of good church people in a wonderful worship service. A good Christian man sat down in front of me and was wearing some sort of cologne that reminded me of a combination of High Karate, Brut, Old Spice, Cargo, and the pot liquor from a collard cook-off. Everyone around me, myself included, began to gasp, breathing like a guppy in syrup. As we individually evacuated the area, upwind, I heard one individual exclaim that they felt like their blood type had turned from positive to negative, that their ears were ringing, and they felt like 3 years had been taken off of their life. I, on the other hand, was personally glad that Jesus was born in a barn with natural smells rather than being born in such an olfactory cesspool. In the beginning, before a potpourri of sticky artificial aromas, there was the Word, fermenting, organic, the very scent of Heaven wafting on the earth.
Rev. Dan Martin is pastor of First UMC, Hendersonville. He can be reached at moose1953@hotmail.com