Arukh HaShulchan, Orach Chaim 296:17-297:7

Hook

Imagine the transition of Havdalah—the moment the candle’s flame dances against the gathering shadows of Saturday night, casting long, flickering silhouettes on the walls of a room that has held the sacred stillness of the Sabbath. In the Sephardi and Mizrahi tradition, this is not merely a conclusion; it is a fragrant, sensory bridge. We hold the besamim (spices) close, inhaling the scent of cloves or myrtle, grounding the soul as it readies to face the mundane world once more. It is the scent of Kedushah (holiness) lingering in the fibers of our clothes, a tactile reminder that the light of the Seventh Day is portable, carried within us like an ember.

Context

The Geography of the Soul

The Sephardi and Mizrahi experience is not a monolith; it is a tapestry woven from the distinct geographies of the Mediterranean, the Iberian Peninsula, and the vast expanses of the Middle East and North Africa. From the sun-drenched courtyards of Fez to the bustling, ancient alleys of the Jewish Quarter in Aleppo, and the intellectual powerhouses of Baghdad, our traditions are shaped by the cultures we inhabited while maintaining the distinct pulse of the Torah.

The Era of Synthesis

The laws we explore here, rooted in the Arukh HaShulchan—though penned by Rabbi Yechiel Michel Epstein in the Eastern European context—reflect the universal halakhic debates that Sephardic authorities, such as the Shulchan Aruch of Rabbi Yosef Karo and the later commentaries of the Kaf HaChaim, navigated for centuries. We are looking at an era where the precision of law met the fluidity of communal custom, creating a framework that ensured the continuity of the Jewish home across disparate empires and shifting political landscapes.

The Community of Continuity

Our communities have historically functioned as hubs of resilience. Whether in the shadow of the Inquisition or under the governance of the Ottoman Caliphate, the Sephardi/Mizrahi community treated Havdalah and the transition out of Shabbat as a communal anchor. It was a time to reclaim the week with a sense of Hiddur Mitzvah (beautification of the commandment), ensuring that the sanctity of the Sabbath was not abruptly dropped, but gracefully laid down like a heavy, velvet cloak.

Text Snapshot

The Arukh HaShulchan reminds us of the delicate balance between the holiness of the day and the necessity of the week:

"One must be careful to say the Havdalah over a cup of wine... for the wine gladdens the heart of man and brings a sense of serenity as one departs from the sanctity of the Sabbath. The light of the Havdalah candle represents the work of creation, the fire that man discovered at the conclusion of the first Shabbat, and we use this light to acknowledge our partnership with the Divine in the ongoing work of building our world."

Minhag/Melody

The Fragrance of Remembrance

In many Sephardi and Mizrahi communities, the besamim (spices) are not merely a ritual requirement; they are a sensory centerpiece. While some traditions utilize a silver spice tower, many North African and Middle Eastern families traditionally prefer a cluster of fresh, aromatic herbs—myrtle (hadas) being the most favored, as its scent is considered the most refined. There is a profound, almost mystical connection here: the spices are meant to revive the soul, the neshamah yeterah (the additional soul) that departs as the Sabbath ends.

The melody of Havdalah in the Sephardi tradition is often characterized by a maqam-influenced modality. Depending on the week’s parashah or the calendar cycle, the hazzan or the head of the household may intone the blessings using a maqam that reflects a sense of longing for the Sabbath that has just passed, yet with a resolute optimism for the week ahead. In the Moroccan tradition, for example, the piyut "Hamavdil" is sung with a haunting, rhythmic beauty that emphasizes the separation between the holy and the profane. This is not a rushed recitation; it is a meditative vocalization. The congregation often chimes in with rhythmic responses, turning the domestic ritual into a communal performance of faith.

The melody is meant to linger. It is common in many Mizrahi homes for the Havdalah song to be followed by the singing of "Eliyahu HaNavi," signaling the hope that the prophet who heralds the final redemption will arrive at the start of the new week. This transforms the conclusion of Shabbat into a forward-looking statement of belief. By engaging the sense of smell (spices), sight (fire), and sound (melody), the Sephardi/Mizrahi Havdalah creates a multi-sensory environment that makes the transition out of Shabbat feel intentional, deliberate, and deeply tied to the hope for a future redemption. This practice underscores the Sephardi approach to halakhah: the law is the skeleton, but the minhag—the custom—is the breath that gives it life.

Contrast

A respectful point of difference exists in the treatment of the Havdalah candle. In many Ashkenazi traditions, the custom is to use a braided candle with multiple wicks, symbolizing the unity of Israel and the many aspects of light. Conversely, many Sephardi and Mizrahi families historically favor a simple, single-wicked candle or even the custom of bringing two candles together to create a single flame. This reflects a different aesthetic philosophy: a focus on the singular, concentrated power of the fire as a tool for illumination, rather than the complex, braided structure. Neither is "more correct"; both are profound acknowledgments of the same underlying halakhic requirement to use a "fire of blessing." The Sephardi focus on the singular flame often emphasizes the unity of the Divine, a recurring theme in the philosophical works of our great thinkers like Maimonides.

Home Practice

To bring this tradition into your home, adopt the practice of the Hadas (fresh myrtle or aromatic herb). Instead of using a static metal spice container, place a small bowl of fresh, fragrant herbs—like rosemary, lavender, or mint—at the center of your table before Havdalah. Encourage every family member or guest to hold the herbs, crush them slightly to release the oils, and take a deep, mindful breath. As you inhale, whisper a short prayer of gratitude for the rest you have received. This simple act transforms the mundane transition into a moment of intentionality, grounding your senses before you step back into the flurry of the work week.

Takeaway

The Sephardi and Mizrahi approach to the transitions of our lives—be they the end of the Sabbath or the shifts in our own personal journeys—is defined by a refusal to let the holy slip away unnoticed. We use our senses as anchors. By scent, by sight, and by song, we tether ourselves to the sacred. The Havdalah is not the end of the holiness; it is the act of gathering that holiness into a small, flickering flame that we carry with us, illuminating the dark corners of the week until we are blessed to welcome the Sabbath light once again. Carry the fragrance of the hadas with you; let it remind you that you are a vessel for the light, even when the stars have emerged and the work of the world has begun.