Sermon 52 on the Song of Songs — Bernard of Clairvaux
On the Ecstasy That Is Called Contemplation, in Which the Bridegroom Causes the Holy Soul to Rest, Being Zealous for Her Quiet.
1. "I adjure you, O daughters of Jerusalem, by the gazelles and the deer of the fields, that you do not rouse or cause to awaken the beloved, until she herself wills" (Song 2:7). The young maidens are forbidden: for he calls these the daughters of Jerusalem, because, even if they are delicate and soft, and as if still weak with womanly affections and actions, they nevertheless cling to the bride in the hope of advancing and of setting out for Jerusalem. They are forbidden, therefore, from the disturbance of the sleeping bride, lest, namely, they presume to awaken her in any way contrary to her own will. For the most sweet Bridegroom has placed his left hand under her head, according to the things that have been set forth above, so that he might cause her to rest and sleep in his bosom. And now, as the Scripture proceeds in turn, he himself, as her guardian, most graciously and most benevolently watches over her, lest, disturbed by the frequent and minor needs of the young maidens, she be forced to awaken. This is the literal coherence of the text. But indeed that adjuration made by the gazelles and the deer of the fields seems to have nothing at all of reasonable consequence according to the letter; to such a degree does the spiritual understanding claim it entirely for itself. But in whatever way that may stand, in the meantime it is good for us to be here, and to contemplate for a little while the goodness, sweetness, and condescension of the divine nature. For what, O man, have you ever experienced sweeter among human affections, than is now expressed to you from the heart of the Most High? And it is expressed by him who searches the deep things of God, and cannot be ignorant of what is in him, because he is his Spirit; nor can he speak anything other than what he has seen with him, since he is the Spirit of truth.
2. And indeed there is not lacking in our kind one who has merited to be made glad, blessed by this gift, and to have had in himself the experience of this most sweet mystery; unless, however, we entirely refuse to believe the passage of Scripture that is before us, where the heavenly Bridegroom is manifestly shown to be most vehemently zealous for the rest of a certain beloved of his, anxious to guard her sleeping in his own arms, lest she be perhaps disturbed from her most sweet sleep by some trouble or unrest. I cannot contain myself for joy, that that majesty does not at all disdain to incline itself to our weakness in so familiar and sweet a fellowship, and that the supreme Deity does not despise entering into marriage with an exiled soul, and showing to her the affection of a bridegroom seized with most ardent love. Thus, thus I do not doubt it is in heaven, as I read on earth, and the soul will feel for certain what the page contains, except that the page is not sufficient at all to express how much the soul will then be able to receive, nor even how much it already can. What, do you think, will she receive there, who here is endowed with such great familiarity, that she feels herself embraced by the arms of God, cherished in the bosom of God, guarded by the care and zeal of God, lest while sleeping she be awakened by anyone, until she awakens of her own accord?
3. Come then, let us say if we can, what that sleep may be, in which the Bridegroom wills his beloved to fall asleep, and does not suffer her at all to be awakened except at her own will; lest perhaps when someone reads in the Apostle: "It is now the hour for us to rise from sleep" (Rom 13:11), or in the Prophet, that he entreats God himself that his eyes may be enlightened lest he ever sleep in death (Ps 12:4), he be troubled by the equivocation of the terms, and not find at all what he might worthily think of the slumber of the bride that is spoken of in this place. For not even that which the Lord says of Lazarus in the Gospel is similar to this: "Lazarus our friend sleeps, let us go and awaken him from sleep" (Jn 11:11). For this he was saying of the death of his body, while the disciples thought it was said of the repose of sleep. But the sleep of the bride is not a slumber of the body, neither the peaceful kind, which gently lulls the senses of the flesh for a time, nor the dreadful kind, which is accustomed to take away life utterly. Much more indeed is it remote from that sleep in which one sleeps unto death, when, namely, one perseveres irrevocably in a sin that is unto death. Rather this sort of living and watchful slumber illuminates the interior sense, and, having driven away death, bestows eternal life. For it is truly a slumber, which however does not stupefy the sense, but carries it away. It is also a death, which I would say without hesitation, since the Apostle, commending certain ones still living in the flesh, speaks thus: "You are dead, and your life is hidden with Christ in God" (Col 3:3).
4. Therefore I too would not absurdly call the ecstasy of the bride a death, one which however snatches her not from life, but from the snares of life, so that she may say: "Our soul, like a sparrow, has been snatched from the snare of the hunters" (Ps 123:7). For one walks in the midst of snares in this life, which indeed are not feared as often as the soul is carried away from itself by some holy and vehement thought; if only the mind so withdraws and flies away as also to transcend this common use and habit of thinking: for indeed "the net is spread in vain before the eyes of the winged" (Prov 1:17). For why should luxury be feared, where not even life is felt? For when the soul departs, if not from life, certainly from the sense of life, it is necessary that the temptation of life also not be felt. "Who will give me wings like a dove, and I will fly, and I will rest?" (Ps 54:7). Would that I might frequently fall by this death, so as to escape the snares of death, so as not to feel the deadly blandishments of a life given to luxury, so as to be numb to the sense of lust, to the heat of avarice, to the stings of anger and impatience, to the anguish of anxieties and the troubles of cares! Let my soul die the death of the just, so that no deceit may ensnare it, no iniquity may delight it. Good is the death that does not take away life, but transfers it to what is better; good, in which the body does not fall, but the soul is raised up.
5. But this is the death of men. Yet let my soul die also the death, if it can be said, of the angels, so that, departing from the memory of present things, it may strip itself not only of the desires but also of the likenesses of lower and corporeal things, and its conversation with those with whom there is a likeness of purity may be pure. Such an ecstasy, as I think, is either solely or chiefly called contemplation. For not to be held by the desires of things while living is a matter of human virtue; but not to be entangled by the likenesses of bodies while contemplating is a matter of angelic purity. Each, however, is a matter of the divine gift; each is a going out, each is a transcending of yourself, but the one goes far, the other not far. Blessed is he who can say: "Behold, I have gone far away in flight, and I have remained in solitude" (Ps 54:8). He was not content to go out, unless he also made himself far away, so that he might rest. You have leapt past the delights of the flesh, so that you no longer obey its desires, nor are held by its enticements: you have advanced, you have separated yourself, but you have not yet gone far away, unless you also prevail by purity of mind to fly beyond the phantasms of corporeal likenesses rushing in from every side. Until that point, do not promise yourself rest. You err, if you think to find on this side of that the place of quiet, the secret of solitude, the serenity of light, the dwelling place of peace. But give me one who has arrived there, and I will unhesitatingly confess him to be at rest, who may rightly say: "Return, O my soul, to your rest; because the Lord has been bountiful to you" (Ps 114:7). And this is truly a place in solitude and a dwelling in light, altogether according to the prophet, "a tabernacle for shade from the heat by day, for security and for a hiding place from the storm and from rain" (Isa 4:6); concerning which also the holy David says: "He hid me," he says, "in his tabernacle in the day of evils, he protected me in the secret place of his tabernacle" (Ps 26:5).
6. Think therefore that the bride has withdrawn into this solitude, and there, on account of the pleasantness of the place, has sweetly fallen asleep amid the embraces of the Bridegroom, that is, has gone out in spirit, when the young maidens were forbidden to awaken her, until she herself should will. But how was this done? For they were not forbidden simply, nor with a light admonition, as is customary; but with an altogether new and unusual adjuration, namely by the gazelles and the deer of the fields. By this kind of wild creature, it seems to me, the holy souls stripped of bodies are suitably enough expressed, and likewise the angels who are with God, on account of the keenness of their sight and the swiftness of their leaping. For we know that both of these things are fitting for both kinds of spirits: for they easily seek the heights and penetrate the innermost depths. Their dwelling also, designated in the fields, evidently marks out the free and unimpeded courses of contemplation. What then does the adjuration made by these mean? Assuredly, that the restless young maidens should not dare, for some slight reason, to call the beloved away from so reverend a company, with which she is without doubt mingled as often as she goes out in contemplation. Beautifully, therefore, they are frightened by the authority of those from whose fellowship it is clear she is torn away by their importunity. Let the young maidens consider whom they offend when they likewise disturb their mother; and let them not so rely on maternal charity as not to fear intruding without great necessity upon that heavenly assembly. For let them consider that this is what they do, as often as they are troublesome beyond what is just to one resting in contemplation. It is, to be sure, placed in her own will both to be free for herself and to attend to the care of those young maidens, as she shall judge it fitting, since she is forbidden to be awakened by them until she herself wills. The Bridegroom knows with how great a love the bride burns also toward her neighbors, and that the mother is sufficiently moved by her own charity concerning the progress of the daughters, and that she will in no way withdraw or deny herself to them as much and as often as shall be necessary: and therefore he judged that this dispensation should be securely entrusted to her discretion. For she is not of such a kind as we see many marked by the prophetic branding, who, "taking for themselves what is fat and strong, cast away what is weak" (Ezek 34:3-4). Does the physician seek those who are well, and not rather those who are sick? If it should happen, he acts perhaps as a friend, but not as a physician. Whom will you teach, good Master, if you have repelled all the unlearned? To whom, I ask, will you apply the diligence of discipline, if you have either driven away all the undisciplined, or fled from them? In whom, I beseech, will you prove your patience, if you have admitted only the gentle and excluded the restless?
7. There are, however, among those sitting here, some who I wish would observe the present chapter more attentively. They would certainly consider how great a reverence is owed to superiors, whom, by rashly disturbing them, they render themselves troublesome also to the citizens of heaven: and perhaps they would at last begin to spare us a little more than usual, and no longer thrust themselves upon us so irreverently and lightly when we are at leisure. Rare enough is the hour granted to me for resting from those who come upon me, as they well know, even when they themselves will bear with me in all patience. But I raise this kind of complaint rather scrupulously, lest perhaps some fainthearted one should conceal his needs beyond the strength of his own patience, while he fears to disturb me. I desist therefore, lest I seem rather to give an example of impatience to the weak. The little ones of the Lord are those who believe in him; I do not suffer that they should receive scandal from me (Mt 18:6). I do not use this power; rather let them use me as they please: only let them be saved. They will spare me if they have not spared me, and I will rather rest in this, if they have not feared to disturb me for their needs. I will accommodate them as far as I shall be able, and in them I will serve my God as long as I shall live, in charity unfeigned. I will not seek the things that are my own; nor what is useful to me, but what is useful to many, that I will judge to be useful to me. This alone I pray, that my ministry may be made acceptable and fruitful to them, if perhaps even from this I may find mercy in the evil day in the eyes of their Father and likewise of the Bridegroom of the Church, Jesus Christ our Lord, who with him is over all things God blessed forever. Amen.
Translated from the Latin by AI. Source: Migne, Patrologia Latina 183.