For millennia, myrrh and frankincense have been prized as treasures of the ancient world, but their origins are far less mystical than their reputations suggest. These aromatic substances are essentially nature’s glue—hardened resin harvested from specific trees through a process that’s equal parts art and patience. Forget magic potions; this is botany with a side of elbow grease.
Myrrh comes from the gnarled, thorny trees of the Commiphora genus, native to arid regions of the Middle East and Northeast Africa. To collect it, harvesters make strategic cuts in the bark, causing the tree to “bleed” a sticky sap that hardens into reddish-brown droplets called tears. Frankincense, meanwhile, is tapped from Boswellia trees, which grow in similar harsh climates. The milky resin oozes out, dries into golden “pearls,” and is carefully scraped off. Both resins have been traded for over 5,000 years, once worth their weight in gold (or camels, depending on the century).
Historically, these resins were burned as incense in religious rituals, their fragrant smoke believed to bridge heaven and earth. Myrrh’s earthy, bitter scent made it a key ingredient in embalming oils and ancient medicines, while frankincense’s sweet, citrusy aroma turned it into a spiritual status symbol. The Bible’s “Three Wise Men” weren’t just being generous—they were gifting luxury goods.
The harvesting process hasn’t changed much since Cleopatra’s day. Skilled workers make precise incisions to avoid killing the trees, returning weeks later to collect the hardened resin. It’s a slow, labor-intensive job, which explains why high-quality frankincense can cost $50 per kilogram today. The resins are then cleaned, sorted, and sold for use in perfumes, traditional medicines, and even chewing gums.
Modern science has demystified some of their allure. Frankincense contains anti-inflammatory compounds studied for arthritis treatment, while myrrh’s antimicrobial properties make it a folk remedy for sore throats. But let’s be real—most people still associate them with holiday pageants and that one essential oil their aunt swears by.
So, next time you light a scented candle or hear “We Three Kings,” remember: behind the mystique are trees literally crying sticky tears. And if you ever doubt nature’s ingenuity, just thank a Boswellia for proving that even plants can hustle. Just don’t ask them to share their sap quickly—good resin takes time.
