When we sit down to a meal, we usually judge the food by a few specific factors: how it looks, the way it tastes, its texture, and, very importantly, how it smells. In fact, an unpleasant smell is often the quickest way to turn us off from a dish entirely.
That is why it is so striking to read in this week’s Torah portion, Vayikra, that the aroma from the sacrifice of the animal offerings were a “pleasing aroma to G-d.” If we look at this purely physically, it’s hard to understand. While a backyard barbecue smells great, burning an entire animal—including the flesh, the organs, and the bones—could produce a smell that is quite foul.
How can a smell that is physically repulsive to us be described as “pleasing” to G-d?
The answer must be that the "aroma" isn't about the how the smoke smells at all. It’s about something much deeper.
In our own lives, we find that when we do something for a friend that we actually enjoy doing, their appreciation is often limited. They know we did it, in part, because it made us happy, too. But when we do something for someone that is difficult, inconvenient, or even unpleasant for us, their appreciation grows. They realize our only motivation was our connection to them.
This helps us understand the Korbanot (offerings). The Torah is incredibly sensitive to the welfare of animals; the law of Tza'ar Ba’alei Chayim strictly forbids causing them unnecessary pain. We are generally only allowed to slaughter an animal for the purpose of eating. Yet, with the Olah (the burnt offering), the animal was placed entirely on the altar and consumed by fire. There was no physical benefit for the person who brought it.
Most people have no desire to kill an animal just for the sake of it. We do it for food because we have to, and we follow strict laws to be as humane as possible. But the act of the Olah feels counterintuitive. We don't do it because we understand it; we do it even though we don't. This creates a sense of profound discomfort.
But we perform mitzvot anyway, even if they are unpleasant to us, simply because G-d asks us. By doing so, we prove that our commitment to Him is more important than our own logic or our own comfort.
This act, doing something solely for G-d’s sake, is what is truly pleasing to Him. The "aroma" is the scent of our devotion.
This is a lesson that the offerings teach us, and it is a powerful psychological truth: The highest form of devotion often comes from the things that make us the most uncomfortable.
Life is not about being comfortable, but about doing for others and for G-d.
Let’s become comfortable being uncomfortable.
Shabbat Shalom