Specifically, Song of Songs 4:14 paints a fragrant picture: “Nard and saffron, fragrant cane and cinnamon, with all trees of frankincense; myrrh and aloe, with all the finest spices.” , shall we?
The Midrash, Shir HaShirim Rabbah, unpacks this verse, revealing layers of meaning. The text begins by clarifying some of the terms. "Nerd and karkom" – nerd, it tells us, is nard oil, and karkom simply means saffron. (Apparently, saffron was commonly called karkom back when this midrash was written!). Then it moves to kaneh, fragrant cane, connecting it directly to Exodus 30:23, where we find "keneh bosem," also translated as fragrant cane.
But it's the cinnamon that really gets interesting. Rabbi Huna, quoting Rabbi Yosei, shares a fascinating tradition: Cinnamon, believe it or not, grew in the Land of Israel! And, get this, goats and gazelles would graze on it. Can you imagine that? The scent of cinnamon permeating the very air.
And what about mor and vaahalot? Mor, we learn, is myrrh oil. And vaahalot? Rabbi Yesa identifies it as balsam oil. Now, why the name ahalot? Rabbi Abba bar Yudan, citing Rabbi Yehuda, offers a lovely explanation: It's because it grows under tents – ohalim in Hebrew. These tents were used to protect the plants from the harsh elements. The Rabbis offer another interpretation, suggesting that it is called this because it spreads like a tent.
Now, here’s a beautiful question the Midrash raises: Where did the daughters of Israel get their ornaments and perfumes to delight their husbands during those forty long years wandering in the wilderness? It's a question about beauty and connection in the midst of hardship.
Rabbi Yoḥanan has a poetic answer: From the well! He connects it to Song of Songs 4:15, "A garden spring, a well of fresh water." Rabbi Abbahu, however, offers a different, equally evocative image: from the manna itself! He draws on Psalms 45:9: “Myrrh, aloes, and cassia were on all your garments [as you went from ivory [shen] halls].” Abbahu cleverly links the word shen, meaning ivory (or tooth), to the manna, which, as we know, sustained them. The idea is that the pure daughters of Israel adorned themselves from the very substance of divine provision, bringing joy to their husbands. The Midrash in Shemot Rabba 21:10 similarly describes spices and gems being provided to the Israelites along with the manna.
Finally, almost as an aside, the Midrash quotes Amos 6:11: “For, behold, the Lord commands, and He will strike the great house into splinters [and the small house into chips].” The Midrash observes that splintering is not the same as chipping; there are shards from splintering, but not from chipping. What does this have to do with spices? Well, some suggest this passage might be a bit out of place here (Matnot Kehuna), but perhaps it's a reminder that even in the midst of sweetness and beauty, there can be destruction and fragmentation.
So, what can we take away from all this? Perhaps it’s the reminder that even in the harshest of environments, beauty and connection can flourish. Perhaps it's an invitation to find the sacred in the everyday, just like those daughters of Israel who found beauty in the desert, drawing from the well and the manna. Or maybe it's simply an invitation to breathe in the fragrance of the world, to appreciate the cinnamon and saffron, and to remember that even the smallest of spices can tell a story of love, resilience, and divine grace.