It's not just about taste or culinary use; there's a deeper story, a narrative woven through our texts that elevates olive oil above all other oils.
Rabbi Ḥiyya, in Vayikra Rabbah 31, makes a point of stressing that it's specifically olive oil that’s important. Not sesame, walnut, turnip, or almond, but "olive oil from your olive trees." Why this insistence? Rabbi Avin offers an illuminating analogy: Imagine a king whose legions rebelled, except for one loyal legion. That one, steadfast group would be rewarded above all others.
The Zohar tells us that the olive tree holds a similar distinction. This olive tree brought light to the world during the time of Noah. Think about that iconic image: "The dove came to him at evening time and, behold, a plucked [taraf] olive leaf was in its mouth" (Genesis 8:11).
But what does taraf really mean here? Some interpret it as "killed" or "mauled," linking it to the verse, "Joseph was mauled [tarof taraf]" (Genesis 37:33). One explanation is that the dove actually nipped off a budding olive tree, preventing it from becoming a great tree. That's quite a sacrifice!
Where did this crucial olive leaf come from? Rabbi Abba bar Kahana says it was brought from the Mount of Olives. Rabbi Levi suggests it came from the branches of the Land of Israel itself. According to this view, the Land of Israel was untouched by the Flood! As we find in Midrash Rabbah, God says through Ezekiel, “Son of man, say to it: You are a land that has not been purified, [that has not been rained upon on the day of fury]” (Ezekiel 22:24). So powerful was the flood, Rabbi Yoḥanan notes, that even large millstones were obliterated, making the Land of Israel the only possible source for that olive leaf.
But Rabbi Berekhya takes it even further. He says the gates of the Garden of Eden opened for the dove, and it brought the leaf from there.
Now, Rabbi Aivu raises a good point: If the dove was in Eden, why not bring back something truly spectacular, like cinnamon or balsam? The answer is profound. The dove brought the olive leaf as a message: "My master, Noah, [I prefer something] bitter like this from the hand of the Holy One blessed be He, and not something sweet from your hand." In other words, a small offering from God is more valuable than any extravagance from elsewhere.
And so we return to the olive oil, constantly burning in the Mishkan (Tabernacle) and later the Beit Hamikdash (Temple). “Outside the curtain of the testimony, in the Tent of Meeting, Aaron shall arrange it from evening until morning before the Lord continually; an eternal statute for your generations” (Leviticus 24:3). It represents that enduring light, that unwavering faith, that quiet devotion that chooses the "bitter" offering from God over any other temptation. It’s a reminder that even in times of destruction, hope – and light – can be found.