The Lantern

Commentary on the Song of Songs2

CCEL

CHAPTER III. (Chap. III.--Verse 1.) On my bed through the nights I sought him whom my soul loves: I sought him, and I did not find him.

1. The holy soul makes a bed for itself through the nights, when, fleeing all the disturbances of the world, it prepares a secret place in which it rests. In this bed it seeks the one it loves, because while it is free from all the anxieties of the world, it does not rest in its search for how it might reach him. It should be noted, moreover, that the one who now lives in this world seeks through the nights, and perfectly shakes off from itself the darkness of temporality. The more heavily it suffers these darknesses, the more fervently it seeks him, upon finding whom it will no longer suffer darkness. But because it never perfectly finds the one it seeks in this world, it therefore adds: "I sought him and did not find him." Because indeed it burns with the greatest desire, and whatever it holds does not suffice, until it finds the beloved, it therefore adds the constancy of its searching, saying: (Verse 2.) "I will rise, I will go about the city: through the streets and squares I will seek him whom my soul loves: I sought him, and did not find him."

2. What do we understand by the city in this place, if not the Church; what by the streets of the city, if not all those who are spiritual? While they walk toward the Church with their whole heart, they hold to the narrow way by which they are led to life. By the broad ways, however, the worldly are designated, who, while they follow their many pleasures, walk along wide roads. The bride therefore rises and goes about the city, because the perfect soul that despises visible things contemplates in her mind all the saints who are or have been in the Church, to see whether perhaps she may find something in their deeds that, by imitating, she might at some point arrive at the finding of the bridegroom. She searches through the streets and through the broad ways, because while she strives to reach the intimate embraces of the beloved through the imitation of the good, she sometimes finds not only in spiritual persons but even in carnal ones something that she can worthily imitate. But after she has indicated her twofold labor, she again adds the difficulty of finding, saying: "I sought him, and I did not find him." But while she seeks and does not find, she herself is also sought and found, and therefore it is added: (Verse 3.) "The watchmen who guard the city found me: Have you seen him whom my soul loves?"

3. What is designated by the watchmen, if not the teachers of the Church? For while they keep watch through writings and words for the sake of winning souls, whenever they perceive even a little desire, they never cease to increase it toward something better. These find the bride seeking, because they receive the devout soul striving to find Christ, and so that she may find him more quickly, they instruct her with precepts and kindle her with examples. Questioning them, she says: "Have you seen him whom my soul loves?" The bride is rightly said to question them, because while she searches through their writings or words with a watchful mind, speaking as if to those present even though absent through the attention of her soul, she inquires what they have understood concerning Christ. But because while she fixes her attention on them, she never finds the bridegroom, she consequently adds: (Verse 4.) "A little while after I had passed beyond them, I found him whom my soul loves."

4. She passes the watchmen a little way and finds her beloved, because while she considers them to be mere men, she raises her mind to the divinity, and there recognizes her bridegroom as equal to the Father, above men. She says she then found him when, aided by holy labors, she fixes the eye of faith somewhat upon the brightness of his divinity, as if contemplating through a mirror. How eagerly of mind she receives that small portion, she shows by saying: (Verse 4.) I held him and will not let him go, until I bring him into the house of my mother, and into the chamber of her who bore me.

5. The Mother of the Church was the Synagogue, because from her she received the holy preachers, from whom she accepted the word of truth, through which she was reborn in faith. The Church therefore holds fast to the Bridegroom until she brings him into the house of her mother, because until the end of the world she does not withdraw from faith in him and love of him, until she leads the Jews to faith. Not that she withdraws afterward; for him whom she loves in exile, she will love even more when she sees him in the homeland. But this had to be said concerning that time about which some could have doubted on account of opposing temptations. She will therefore bring the Beloved into the house of her mother when at the end of the world the Church, through preaching, introduces the Christian sacraments into the Jewish people. She will bring him into the bedchamber, as into the more secret part of the house, because from that same people she will convert so many that they will cast off all the burdens of the world and desire in their innermost thoughts to please God alone. Such people will make a bedchamber for the Bridegroom, because when they cast away from themselves all the filth of cupidity, they will prepare, as it were, a secret place in the mind in which he may take delight. Resting delightfully among them, free from their disturbance, the Bridegroom forbids the wicked, saying: (Verse 5.) I adjure you, O daughters of Jerusalem, by the gazelles and the deer of the fields, do not stir up nor awaken the beloved until she herself wills it.

6. In this, certainly, he shows that after her conversion he will find some from the Synagogue of the same perfection as very many from the Church, since he takes equal delight in their rest and forbids any disturber from them, just as he forbade it from the Church. The Synagogue, therefore, having been brought to the faith, beholds the mind of the Church through the works she sees, and greatly admiring her sublimity, says: (Verse 6) 'Who is this that cometh out of the wilderness like pillars of smoke, perfumed with myrrh and frankincense, with all powders of the merchant?'

7. Therefore in the desert, that is, in this world, the Church, or every holy soul, lives while, exiled from the kingdom, it dwells among beasts, namely demons. For here, although she is not entirely abandoned by the bridegroom, nevertheless while she is in the flesh, she is not yet admitted to the certain vision of him; while she wanders from him through exiles and temptations, because while she does not yet reign with him, she seems to herself to be abandoned by him. On this account she always labors to ascend, so that she may sense him whom she greatly loves more and more, so that since she does not perfectly possess him in the desert, she may at least refresh herself in the very desire for him, so that thus strengthened on the way, she may at some time arrive at that which she has long desired. For there are some who, while they disdain all visible things, raise their minds to heavenly things, and because they see nothing among lowly things that might be sweet to them, turn their whole heart to things above. These strip themselves of all evil habits, despise the wealth of the world along with its desires, reach out in hope toward invisible things, and the greater the desire with which they cling to those things, the more and more painfully they bear the corruption they possess. These indeed ascend through the desert, because while they live in this world among temptations, the more they fear being abandoned while they remain here, the more strongly indeed they abandon these things, and the more fervently they advance toward those things in which, once they have arrived, they will no longer fear anything that might remove them. 8. But fittingly they are said to ascend like a column of smoke, because they are said to possess both the fragrance of good reputation and subtlety of mind. This smoke, however, is not said to be of just any substances, but is declared to come from the spices of myrrh and frankincense and every powder of the perfumer. For with myrrh the bodies of the dead are embalmed lest they decay, while frankincense is burned so that it may give off fragrance. By myrrh, therefore, the mortification of the flesh is signified; by frankincense, the purity of prayers is understood. The holy soul, therefore, while it mortifies its flesh from the decay of vices, while it renounces all the pleasures of the world through continence, as it were applies myrrh to the body that will die, so that after the judgment it may remain whole from eternal corruption. But when it kindles itself toward heavenly things with greater desire, and fervently casts out from the chamber of the heart all superfluous thoughts, it makes its heart, as it were, a censer before God. In this, while it gathers virtues through love, it arranges, as it were, coals in the censer, in which the mind may set itself aflame in the sight of God with the fire of charity. And while it sends forth fervent and pure prayers to God, it draws out, as it were, the smoke of spices from the censer, so that it may smell sweetly before the beloved, and may not cease to stir up all its neighbors to love of him through good examples. But it should be noted that it does not say "of every perfume," but "of every powder of the perfumer." For we make perfumes when we gather virtues in the heart. But when we more carefully examine our very virtues through each and every work, lest anything in our works remain unrefined, lest a vice lie hidden among the virtues, then without doubt we grind the ointments of virtues, as it were, into powder, so that our works may be the purer, the more carefully we do not cease to distinguish them from every encroachment of vices. Minds of this kind make themselves delightful to their beloved through his grace, and while they separate themselves from all worldly noise, they prepare within themselves a place in which the bridegroom may rest. Concerning this rest, it is added: (Verses 7, 8.) Behold, sixty mighty men surround the bed of Solomon, from the mightiest of Israel, all holding swords and most skilled in war, each one's sword upon his thigh because of fears in the night.

9. Solomon is interpreted as "the peaceful one." What then is understood by Solomon, if not Christ, of whom it is written: "He himself is our peace, who made both one" (Ephesians 2:14)? We therefore make a bed for Solomon when we cease entirely from the anxieties of the world, when we willingly rest in the desire of Christ alone, and cleanse our heart from every earthly desire so that he may rest with us. Now if the number ten is multiplied by six, sixty is of course completed. By ten, therefore, we understand the Decalogue of the law; by six, however, we understand this entire time which we see revolving in six working days. By the sixty mighty ones, therefore, we understand all the perfect who were before us in the Church; who, since they fulfilled the ten precepts of the law in the six days all the more strongly as they did so more spiritually, completed, as it were, the number sixty. These surround the bed of Solomon, because they fortify the holy mind in which Christ rests with their words and examples, by which they repel enemies coming to the entrance of the mind, while they sustain that mind by their examples and instruct it by their writings. These hold swords and stand forth most learned in warfare, because while they fulfill the word of God in deed, what they know in their heart, ever more and more learned, they conquer their enemy — namely, the devil — by wisdom and strength. For by the sword, the word of God is signified, and by the hands with which they hold the swords, their very deeds are represented. Of these it is well added: "Every man's sword upon his thigh, because of fears in the night." What do we understand by the sword, if not the rigor of their way of life; and what by the thigh, if not the appetite of the flesh? Therefore all the elect who have already advanced to the perfection of life always carry a sword upon their thigh, because by the rigor of their way of life they continually break the appetite of the flesh, lest the enemy whom they fear in the night of this world, coming suddenly, should find a soft entrance, and through the softness of pleasure should lead them to graver sins all the more easily the more pleasure-seeking he finds them. Concerning the praise of Solomon, it is further added: (Verses 9–10.) "King Solomon made himself a litter of the wood of Lebanon. Its pillars he made of silver, its back of gold, its seat of purple; the interior he paved with love, for the daughters of Jerusalem."

10. The timbers of Lebanon are declared to be imperishable. Therefore King Solomon made himself a litter from the timbers of Lebanon, because, according to the grace of His foreknowledge, Christ built the holy Church from saints who would endure forever. He made its columns of silver, because He gave preachers to that same Church, whom He strengthened with the great uprightness of justice so that they might sustain it by their examples, and adorned with the brilliance of eloquence, as with the splendor of silver, so that they might instruct through their preaching. He made a golden reclining seat, because when He shone forth in the hearts of the perfect, He showed them the power of His divinity through contemplation. In which contemplation, when He displayed to them the beauty of heavenly joys, He composed, as it were, a reclining seat of gold, because He provided a place in which they might rest and be refreshed. This reclining seat is rightly said to be golden, because wisdom is better than all riches, and all things that are desired cannot be compared to it (Prov. 8:11). This reclining seat is reached through many labors, ascended through many tribulations, so that, if necessary, even the shedding of blood is permitted. Therefore the ascent is rightly said to be purple. For when the holy martyrs handed over their bodies to torments for the sake of eternal life, when they patiently endured scourges, the rack, fires, swords, and other innumerable tortures, did they not ascend to that reclining seat, that is, to the blessed life, by a purple ascent? But what are we wretches doing, who are not silver columns in this litter, because we neither sustain the holy Church by our examples nor teach by our preaching? We do not have a golden reclining seat in it, because, entangled in earthly thoughts, we do not rise up through contemplation to the splendor of wisdom. We do not even know the purple ascent, because, devoted to pleasures, we refuse to bear labors and persecutions for eternal blessedness. We are somewhat consoled by what follows concerning this litter: He paved the middle with love, for the daughters of Jerusalem. For what do we understand by the daughters of Jerusalem, since he said not sons but daughters, except us weak ones, who in the Church are not men but women, because we do not struggle bravely against vices, do not resist manfully, but submit in womanly fashion? For Jerusalem is interpreted as "vision of peace," by which the Church, which is our mother, is designated, because she continually contemplates perpetual peace. If, therefore, we are not silver columns in the King's litter, if we do not have a golden reclining seat, if we cannot ascend by the purple ascent, let us at least hold fast to love, which is common to all the elect and placed, as it were, in the middle. Through this, indeed, King Solomon recognizes us as being in his litter, because in it, along with the silver columns, along with the golden reclining seat, along with the purple ascent, he also paved the middle with love for the daughters of Jerusalem, because we arrive at the same blessedness of the Bridegroom together with the members of the Church, if we maintain unwearied love. There follows: (Verse 11.) Go forth, daughters of Zion, and behold King Solomon in the diadem with which his mother crowned him on the day of his betrothal, and on the day of the gladness of his heart.

11. The blessed Mary, Mother of Christ, is believed to be she who crowned him with a diadem, because he himself assumed our humanity from her, as is recounted in the Gospel (Matt. 1). And this is said to have taken place on the day of his betrothal and on the day of the gladness of his heart, because when the only-begotten Son of God wished to unite his divinity to our humanity, when by his good will he was pleased to take his Church to himself at the appointed time, then with the exultation of love he willed to take on our flesh from the Virgin Mother. Living in her with sufferings for a time, he rejoiced exceedingly over our redemption. But since a diadem is assumed for glory, while in the taking on of humanity not glory but humility of the Word of God is recognized, how is he said to have been crowned with our humanity as with a diadem? Yet since his very incarnation was truly our glory—because we are his members through the communion of the body—Scripture rightly foretold the diadem of the members upon the head. Here, therefore, because he is praised by the bride, he in turn deigns to praise the bride, saying: