First, I have something of a confession to a make: I’m not sure that I really know all that much about what I’m going to say. Here we have a sermon which I’ve entitled “The Fragrance of Love,” a sermon in which we’re going to explore together a sensual and aromatic encounter with Jesus, and I don’t really have any experiential idea of what a fragrance or an aroma is. You see, I don’t have a sense of smell. I never have. I don’t know why, but it’s been the case all of my life – at least according to one of my grandmothers, who said that as a small child I was completely baffled by her invitation that I smell a rose from my mother’s garden. And as recently as last week, my daughter laughed when she realized that I had no idea that my husband had started making dinner – a fact clear to her from the aromas filling the house. So I may be on shaky ground here, but I’ve done some research. My friends tell me that certain aromas do fill the air and that scents do, as I’ve read, have a strong evocative power. If you walk by a bakery, one of my friends says, the smells of breads and pastries can make you think that you’re inside. And yes, another assures me, the aroma of a roast in the oven can take you quickly back to the scene of childhood meal, reminding you of the people there and the feelings you associate with them. I’ve never had that experience, and so I am probably taking a chance here, but my guess is that the rest of you will know exactly what I’m talking about when I say that love has the power to permeate the space and everyone in it just as a powerful fragrance does.