as it were, a matter of indifference to us, provided that one is able to derive from it profitable meanings. Indeed, the great Apostle, when saying that the Law is spiritual, A includes within the name of "the Law" also the historical narratives; so that the whole of Scripture, being God-breathed, is law to those who read it, instructing those who listen with understanding—not only through its manifest events, but also through its historical accounts—both for the knowledge of the mysteries and for a pure life. He uses such explanation as pleases him, looking toward that which is useful, but he does not concern himself with the name by which the type of explanation ought to be called. But now he says he is changing his voice, intending to transfer the history to show the economy of the Testaments. Then, having mentioned the two children of Abraham—those born to him from the slave woman and the free woman—he calls the contemplation concerning them an "allegory." Again, having narrated certain matters of history, he says that "these things happened to them typically, but were written for our instruction." And again, having spoken of not muzzling the ox that treads the grain, he added that God is not concerned about oxen, but that it was written entirely for our sake. There are also places where he calls the more obscure understanding and knowledge "in part" a mirror and an enigma. B
And again, he calls the transition from bodily things to intelligible things a transition toward the Lord, and a taking away of the veil. In all these diverse ways and names for contemplation in the mind, he teaches us one kind of instruction: that we ought not to remain entirely in the letter, since the superficial meaning of what is said harms us in many ways regarding the path of virtuous living; rather, we should cross over to the immaterial and intelligible contemplation, so that the more bodily meanings might be transformed into mind and understanding, with the more fleshly meaning of what is said being shaken off like dust. And that is why he says that "the letter kills, but the spirit gives life," for often the history, if we should stop at the bare facts, does not provide us with examples of a good life. For what does it profit the hearer for virtue that the prophet begets children from harlotry, and that Isaiah goes in to the prophetess, if one stays at the literal expression of what is said? Or what does it contribute to the virtuous life to hear the things concerning David? C D
A regarding the concurrence of adultery and murder in a single nefarious action? But if any reason can be found that shows that which is dispensed through these things falls under no reproach, then that which the Apostle says will be shown to be true—namely, that "the letter kills" (for it possesses within itself examples of evil things), "but the spirit gives life." For it shifts the sense that appears and falls under reproach to a more divine signification.
We know also that the Word Himself, who is worshiped by every creature, when He was delivering the divine mysteries in the likeness of man and in the form of flesh, revealed to us the meanings of the Law in such a way that He said that the two men, whose testimony is true, are Himself and the Father; and that he transfers the bronze serpent raised up on high B, which brought aid to the people wounded by deadly bites, to the dispensation that took place for our sake on the Cross; and that He exercised the keenness of the intellect of His own holy disciples through covered discourses, in parables, in likenesses, in obscure words, in sayings that are brought forth through enigmas, for which He provided explanations in private, resolving their obscurity.
Sometimes, however, if the sense of what was said was not grasped by them, He reproached their slowness of intellect and their weakness, as being too unrefined for understanding. For when He commanded them to abstain from the leaven of the Pharisees, but they, with small and abject mind, looked at the baskets in which they had not brought a supply of bread, He then reproached those who did not understand, because the teaching was what was signified by the leaven. And again, when the disciples set a table before Him, and He answered, "I have food to eat which you do not know," C and they supposed He was speaking of bodily food, as if it had been brought to Him from elsewhere, He interprets His own word, showing that the food appropriate and suitable to Him was the fulfillment of the saving will.
Many such things may be gathered from the evangelical utterances, in which there is one thing that is understood from what is at hand, and another toward which the sense of what is said is looking: such as the water which He promised to those who thirst, through which those who believe become springs of rivers; the bread that comes down from heaven; the temple that is destroyed and raised up in three days; the way, the door, the stone which was rejected and despised by the builders and adapted as the head of the corner; the two who are on one bed; the mill; the women grinding; the one who is taken and the one who is left; the corpse; the eagles; the fig tree which becomes tender and puts forth its branches. D All these, and whatever is of this kind, exhort us to search the divine Scriptures, and to pay heed to the reading, and to investigate by every means, wherever some reason might be found
A higher than a superficial understanding, leading the mind toward things more divine and incorporeal.
For this reason, we are persuaded that what was forbidden in the eating of the tree was neither a fig, as some have pronounced, nor any other of the orchard fruits. For if the fig were then lethal, it would not be at all edible even now. Moreover, we have also learned from the voice of the Lord, which delivers this judgment: "There is nothing of those things that enter through the mouth which can defile a man." But in the law, we seek another meaning, one worthy of the majesty of the Lawgiver. And if we hear that paradise is the work of God’s planting, and that the tree of life was planted in the middle of paradise, we ask of Him who reveals hidden mysteries that we might learn whose husbandman and planter the Father was, and how it is possible that there should be two trees in the very middle of paradise, one of salvation and one of destruction. For that which is B exactly at the middle, as in the description of a circle, is necessarily one thing at the single center. But if another center were placed at some point relative to the center, it is absolutely necessary that the circle be moved along with that center, so that what was previously the middle is no longer so. Since, therefore, there is one paradise there, how does the word say that each of the trees is viewed separately, yet that this and that are in the middle—of which the word, which proclaims all works of God to be "very good," teaches that the lethal one was alien to God's planting? If one does not contemplate the truth in these things through philosophy, what is said will appear to such as are unreflecting to be unfounded or mythical.
It would be a long task to gather these things one by one from the prophets—as Micah, in the last days, says that a manifest mountain will be upon the tops of the mountains, designating the mystery of piety in this way, which is revealed for the overthrowing of the opposing powers; or how the lofty Isaiah signifies the manifestation of the Lord through the flesh, saying that a rod and a flower spring from the root; or the "curded mountain" C mentioned by the great David—what sense does this have as it appears in the literal phrasing? Or the ten-thousand-fold chariot, or the gathering of the bulls that is let loose upon the heifers of the peoples, or the foot that is dyed in blood, or the tongues of dogs, or how Lebanon is divided from the cedars like a calf? And there are myriad things besides these that one may gather from the rest of prophecy to teach the necessity of contemplating the words according to their meaning; for if one discards this, as some are pleased to do, it seems to me that the result is as if someone were to set forth at a table for human consumption the harvested crops just as they are, without threshing the sheaves, without winnowing the seeds from the chaff, without grinding the wheat into flour, and without preparing bread in the fitting way of baking. As, therefore, the unprocessed produce is food for beasts, and not for men, so one might say D
A that divine inspired words—not only those of the Old Testament, but also the many of evangelical teaching—are food for irrational creatures rather than for the rational, if they are not worked through by subtler contemplation: the winnowing fan that purges the threshing floor, the chaff that is carried away by the wind, the wheat that remains at the feet of the winnower, the unquenchable fire, the good barn, the tree that bears bad fruit, the threat of the axe that fearsomely demonstrates the peak of the trees, and the stones that are transformed into human nature. These things have been written by me with diligence in these letters for your prudence, that they might be a kind of answer to those who maintain that one ought not to seek anything more from divine words than the meaning that is at hand in the letter and the diction.
But if, since Origen labored and studied most diligently on this book, we also have willingly resolved to commit to writing that which has been labored over by us, let no one accuse us, looking to the divine saying of the Apostle who says: "Each will receive his own reward according to his own labor." B This treatise of mine, however, was not composed for display; but because some of those who are with us, out of a desire for learning, took notes on many of the things said in the churches, I have explained these in the form of homilies—partly by taking from them what their notes logically contained, and partly by adding myself whatever was necessary for an addition—having brought forward the contemplation of the words, in order, according to the letter, as much as time and the circumstances—the leisure I had for this during the days of the fasts—allowed. For during these days, this book was developed by us for the public ear. But if God, the dispenser of our life, grants us a span of time and a peaceful and tranquil season, perhaps we shall pursue the rest. For now, the book and the contemplation have proceeded for us only to the halfway point. May the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with all of us forever and ever. Amen.
Homily I
Chapter 1, Verse 2: *Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth: for thy breasts are better than wine, and the odor of thy ointments above all spices. Thy name is ointment poured forth; therefore have the maidens loved thee, they have drawn thee. We will run after thee in the odor of thy ointments. The king has brought me into his chambers; we will be glad and rejoice in thee. Let us love thy breasts more than wine. Righteousness has loved thee.* C
Whoever, in accordance with the counsel of Paul, has put off the old man, as if it were some filthy garment, together with his deeds and desires, and has put on the shining garments of the Lord—such as He showed at the transfiguration that took place on the mountain—through the purity of life, or rather, whoever has put on the Lord Jesus Christ Himself with love, which is His garment, and has been conformed to Him toward impassibility and toward being more divine: do you listen to the mystery D
A of the Song of Songs. You, I say, enter within the bridal chamber of the Bridegroom, into which destruction does not fall, and be clothed in pure and undefiled thoughts. But if anyone, taking on an impassioned and carnal thought, and not having the garment of conscience fitting for divine nuptials, is bound to his own thoughts, dragging the pure voices of the Bridegroom and the Bride down to bestial and irrational passions, and through them, being clothed in obscene fantasies, is cast out from those who are joyful and lively at the wedding, receiving instead of the joy of the bridal chamber the gnashing of teeth and tears; these things I testify, as I am about to touch upon the mystical contemplation in the Song of Songs. For by the things written here, the soul is in a way adorned as a bride for an incorporeal and spiritual and immaterial union with God. For He who desires all to be saved, and to come to the knowledge of truth, B shows here the most perfect and blessed way of salvation, I mean that which is through love. For salvation also comes to some through fear, when, looking to the threats of punishment in Gehenna, we are separated from evil. There are also some who achieve virtue because of the hope of the reward laid up for those who have lived piously, not possessing the good through love, but by the expectation of recompense. He, however, who has run to perfection with his soul, casts out fear—for such a disposition is slavish, because it does not remain with the Lord through love, but does not flee because of the fear of scourges—and he also despises the rewards themselves, so that he might not seem to value the reward more than the One who bestows the gain; but he loves with his whole heart and soul and power, not something else of those things that come from Him, but that very One who is the fountain of good things. Therefore, He who calls us to participation in Himself, establishes this disposition in the souls of His hearers. And He who confirms this law is Solomon, whose wisdom, according to the divine C testimony, has no measure, being incomparable and uncollated with all who have been before and who will be, from whom nothing of existing things is hidden. Do you think I am speaking of this Solomon who was born of Bathsheba, who offered a thousand oxen upon the mountain, who used the counsel of the Sidonian woman for sin? But by this one another Solomon is signified, who himself also was born of the seed of David according to the flesh, whose name is Peace, the true King of Israel, the builder of the temple of God; who has comprehended the knowledge of all things, whose wisdom is infinite, or rather, whose very essence is wisdom and truth, and every name and thought that is divine and exalted. He, having used this Solomon as an instrument, speaks to us through him, first indeed in Proverbs, then in Ecclesiastes, and after these in the set-forth philosophy of the Song of Songs, showing by D way and order the ascent toward perfection by the Word.
For just as in the life according to the flesh, not every age contains all natural operations, nor does life proceed by similar stages to us in the differences of the ages themselves (for neither does the infant perform the works of the perfect, nor is the perfect man carried in the arms of a nurse), but in every season of life there is something else that is appropriate and suitable; A so it is possible to see in the soul also a certain proportion in relation to the bodily ages, through which a certain order and sequence is found, leading man to live a life of virtue. On account of this, the Proverbs instruct in one way, and Ecclesiastes discourses in another; and the philosophy delivered through the Song of Songs surpasses both in the sublimity of its doctrines. For the teaching given through the Proverbs makes its words to him who is still an infant, adapting its admonition appropriately to his age. Hear, he says, my son, the laws of thy father, and do not reject the institutes of thy mother. Thou seest from the things being said how tender the age of the soul still is, how it cannot yet feed itself, and still has need of maternal institutions and paternal B admonition. And that the infant may attend to his parents with a more prompt and eager spirit, it promises him that ornaments of the child will result from study regarding its teachings. For a child’s ornament is a golden collar shining upon the neck, and a crown woven from certain charming flowers. It is necessary, however, to understand these things entirely so that the sense of the riddle may lead one toward that which is better. And thus it begins to describe wisdom to him in a varied and manifold way, and translates the form and beauty of the ineffable excellence, so that he may be stirred not by any necessity and fear, but by desire and longing for the participation in good things. For the description of beauty somehow draws the desire of the young toward that which is shown, kindling a longing for communion with such excellence. C So that his desire might be the more increased, being transferred from material affection to an immaterial state, it adorns the beauty of wisdom with praises. And it does not only adorn its form and grace with words, but also enumerates its riches, of which he who has dwelt with it will become master. Now, the riches are considered in those things which are proposed by it. For at her right hand is the adornment of all the ages, since the Scripture says: Length of life and years of life are in her right hand. But in her left hand she has placed the precious riches of the virtues, which shine together with the splendor of glory. For it says: In her left hand are riches and glory. Then it also speaks of the breath of her mouth, exhaling the good fragrance D of justice, saying: Out of her mouth goeth forth justice. And on her lips, it says that the law and mercy blossom instead of a natural flush. And so that this bride may be found perfect in beauty on every side, her gait too is praised. For it says: In the ways of justice she walketh. And toward the praises of her beauty there is not lacking magnitude, since her...
growth has run up like some well-flourishing plant. But as to what plant her height is compared, she says: "She is a tree of life," which is indeed nourishment to those who lay hold of her; but to those who lean upon her, she is a firm and stable pillar, and one that cannot be shaken. A By both, however, I understand the Lord. For He Himself is the life and the fulcrum and the firmament. The context of the passage is thus: "She is a tree of life to all who lay hold of her," [and to those who lean upon her as upon the Lord, she is a safe refuge]. Included with her other praises is also her power, so that the praise of the beauty of wisdom may be filled through all good things. For God, he says, "by wisdom founded the earth. He prepared the heavens in prudence," and leads each of the things considered in creation toward the way of wisdom, adorning it with various names. For he calls her the same thing as wisdom and intelligence, sense and knowledge and prudence, and things of that sort. After these things, he begins as a paranymph to lead the youth toward such a cohabitation, already bidding him to look toward the divine bridal chamber. For he says: "Do not forsake her, and she will keep you; love her, and she will guard you; surround her, and she will exalt you; honor her, that she may embrace you; that she may give to your head a crown of graces, and with a crown of delights she may protect you." B Having thus adorned her as a bride with these bridal crowns, he commands that he never be separated from her, saying: "When you walk, lead her, and let her be with you; and when you sleep, let her guard you, that when you wake, she may talk with you." By these and such things, having inflamed the desire of him who is still young according to the inner man, and having shown her who narrates things concerning herself, through which she most draws the disposition of her hearers to love, saying this among other things: "I love those who love me." For the hope of being loved in return disposes the lover more ardently toward desire; and having added to these the remaining counsels in certain indicative and boundless apophthegms, and having led him to a more perfect habit, then, at the end of the Proverbs, having blessed this good union, in which he went through the praises of that valiant woman, he then adds the philosophy in Ecclesiastes, since he had sufficiently introduced him through proverbial instruction to the desire for virtues. C And having denounced in this discourse the relationship of men to the things that appear, and saying that all that is unstable and passing is vain, in which he says that "all that comes is vanity," he raises the natural motion of our soul above all that is apprehended through sense, toward the invisible beauty; and having thus cleansed the heart from the attachment to things that appear, then through the Song of Songs, he introduces the thought into the divine inner sanctuaries: in which that which is inscribed is the nuptial preparation; and that which is D inside the divine inner sanctuaries mystically initiates the mind; in which that which is described, is...
a nuptial preparation, and that which is understood is the tempering of the human soul with the Divine. B Therefore, the bridegroom who is named in the Proverbs is the Son, and Wisdom takes the place of the bride, so that man may be betrothed to God as a chaste virgin, and being joined to the Lord, may become one spirit, through the tempering with that which is alien to destruction and is impassible, having been made a pure intelligence instead of heavy flesh. Since, therefore, it is Wisdom that speaks, love as much as you can with all your heart and all your strength, desire as much as you can contain. I add, moreover, boldly to these words: Love. For this affection is not liable to censure, and in incorporeal beings it is impassible, as Wisdom says in the Proverbs, laying down the law concerning the love of divine beauty. But the book now proposed also commands similar things, not offering merely naked counsel concerning this, but philosophizing through hidden meanings, making conjecture of things that are intelligible by means of some image of those things which are pleasant in life, for the sake of establishing dogmas.
The image, however, is a certain nuptial apparatus in which the desire for beauty intervenes; not beginning according to the human custom with the bridegroom yearning for desire, but the virgin outstrips the bridegroom without shame, bringing her own desire into the public eye, and having as her wish that she might one day delight herself in kissing the bridegroom. For since the good paranymphs of the bride, the patriarchs and prophets and lawgivers, brought divine gifts to the bride, which the Greeks are accustomed to call *edna* [wedding presents], thus naming the gifts before the wedding—and these gifts were: remission of sins, oblivion of evils, removal of sin, transformation of nature, the changing of that which falls under destruction into that which does not so fall, the delights of paradise, the dignity of the kingdom, joy which has no end. C When, therefore, the virgin had received these divine gifts from the noble paranymphs, she both confesses her desire and hastens to enjoy the grace of the beauty of him whom she desires. Certain associates of hers and those of equal age listen to her, inciting the bride to greater desire. The bridegroom also approaches, bringing with him a choir of certain friends who are pleasing to him. These are the ministering spirits, through whom men are saved, or the holy prophets, who, having heard the voice of the bridegroom, delight and exult because of the pure union, which is alien to destruction, that is being consummated, through which the soul joined to the Lord becomes one spirit, as the Apostle says.
Again, therefore, I will repeat the discourse found in the Proverbs: let no one who is subject to the perturbations of the soul and is carnal, still smelling of the dead stench of the old man, drag down the significations of the divinely-inspired sentiments and words to bestial absurdities; but let each one, going out from himself, and having become outside the material world, and having returned in a certain way through impatibi-
impatibility to a state resembling paradise, and having become like to God through purity, thus proceed to the adytum of the mysteries which appear in this book. A If, however, any person’s soul is unprepared for such an audience, let him hear Moses ordaining by law that we should not dare to ascend the spiritual mountain before we have washed the garments of our hearts and purified our souls with the appropriate sprigglings of our thoughts. Therefore now, while we attend to this contemplation, we should, I think, induce a forgetfulness of nuptial thoughts, in accordance with the command of Moses, who by law ordained that those initiated into the mysteries should be pure from marriage; and I think that we must take up the commands of the legislator in all things, since we are about to ascend to the spiritual mountain of the knowledge of God, in which the female gender of thoughts, along with material equipment, is left behind in the lower life. B Every irrational concept, if it should be seen upon such a mountain, is struck down by the sterner thoughts as if by stones. For scarcely could we in this way hear the voice of this trumpet, which emits a sound great and truly marvelous and beyond the power of those receiving it, which the cloud of obscurity itself sends forth, in which God is, who with fire burns up whatever in this mountain is partaker of matter. Now, therefore, let us enter into the Holy of Holies, which is indeed the Canticle of Canticles. C For as in the Holy of Holies we are taught a certain abundance and intensity of holiness through this superlative voice, so also through the Canticle of Canticles, the sublime discourse professes to teach us mysteries of mysteries. For since there are many canticles according to the divinely inspired teaching, through which we are taught great understandings about God, both from the great David, and Isaiah, and Moses, and many others, we learn from this inscription that by as much as the canticles of the saints differ from the canticles of external wisdom, by so much does the mystery which is in the Canticle of Canticles surpass the canticles of the saints. D Nothing further for the comprehension of the mind, neither human hearing nor nature can find or contain. And for this cause, the most vehement of those things which exist from pleasure—I mean the erotic passion—it has brought forward enigmatically for the explanation of doctrines, that through this we might learn that it behooves the soul, fixing its eyes upon the inaccessible beauty of the divine nature, to love it as much as the body has a relationship toward what is kindred and of the same genus, having transferred the passion of the soul to impassibility, so that every corporal affection being extinguished, the mind may glow erotically in us through the spirit alone, warmed by that fire which the Lord came to cast upon the earth.
But these things, as to how the soul ought to be disposed hearing the mystical words, I say are sufficient; but it would be time now to add the divine voices themselves of the Canticle of Canticles to the contemplation of the discourse. And first, let us consider the power of the inscription. For it does not seem to me to be idly
A ascribed to Solomon; but [was done] so that those who read might think that something great and divine is contained in what is said. For since among everyone—according to the testimony he himself bore of himself—there is a noted admiration for his wisdom, for this reason there is mention of his name immediately in the introduction; so that those who read might hope, through this book, for something great and worthy of the opinion held of him.
But just as in the science of painting there is clearly always a material in various colors that completes the imitation of a living being; yet he who looks at the image, which is brought to completion by art through the colors, does not linger in his contemplation on the dyes smeared onto the tablet, but looks only to the form that the artist has fashioned with the colors: so too B it is fitting in the present Scripture not to look at the material of the colors that are in the words, but to look as if at a certain form of king, which is expressed in them through pure mental conceptions. For white, or yellow, or black, or red, or blue, or any other color, are these words, if one considers the meanings that are at hand—namely, mouth, and kiss, and ointment, and wine, and the names of limbs, and a little bed, and young women, and things of that sort. But the form that is completed through these is blessedness, and impassibility, and union with God, and estrangement from evils, and assimilation to that which is truly beautiful and good.
These are the conceptions and intelligences that bear witness for Solomon to that wisdom which surpasses the C limits of human wisdom. For what could be more paradoxical than this, that it makes nature itself the expurgator of its own affections, while through the words that are considered to be full of affections, it commands and teaches impassibility? For it does not say that it is necessary to be outside of the movements of the flesh that are subject to affections, and to mortify the members that are upon the earth, and to be pure in mouth from pathetic words; but it so affects the soul that through things which seem to be absurd and indecorous, it looks to purity, interpreting through pathetic words the mind and sense into which decay does not fall.
This one thing, surely, let the discourse teach us through the introductions: that those who are brought into the D interior of the mysteries of this book are no longer men, but have been brought over through the discipline of Christ to that which is more divine. Just as the Word testifies to his own disciples that they were better than men, whom he distinguished from men—the distinction which was made by the Lord among them, when he says: "Whom do men say that I am? But whom do you say that I am?" For truly, through such words, the immediate meaning of which indicates carnal delights, not slipping into obscene thought but leading the philosophy of divine things toward pure mental conceptions, he shows that he is no longer a man, nor does he have a nature mixed with flesh and
blood, but demonstrates A a life equal to the angels, having become so through impassibility. For just as after the resurrection the body, having been transformed into the incorruptible, is joined to the human soul, and the passions which now harass us through the flesh do not rise with those bodies; but rather a peaceful state will succeed our life, as the mind of the flesh will no longer be in sedition against the soul, nor will the civil war through passionate impulses make war against the law of the mind, and like a prisoner lead the defeated soul to sin; but nature will then be pure of all such things, and the wisdom of both, that is, of the flesh and of the spirit, will be one, with all bodily affection having been removed from nature; B thus the Word encourages those who hear through this book that, even if we live in the flesh, we should not turn our thoughts toward it at all, but look only to the soul, and dedicate all the loving expressions of these things, pure and undefiled, to the good God who surpasses all mind. To Him alone is that which is truly sweet, desirable, and lovely; the enjoyment of which, always coming to be, becomes a cause of greater desire, intensifying the longing through the participation of good things. Thus Moses loved God, thus Elias; thus John loved the bridegroom, saying: "He who has the bride is the bridegroom: but the friend of the bridegroom rejoices with joy because of the bridegroom’s voice." Thus Peter, being asked if he loves and cherishes, confesses with C boldness, saying: "Lord, you know that I love you." Thus the other apostles; thus Paul, who was previously a persecutor, and having loved Christ whom he had not seen, wrote, saying: "I have betrothed you to present a chaste virgin to Christ." Thus the present Church, the bride, loved the bridegroom, according to the virgin in the Canticle who says: "Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth." Thus the one whose conversation with God came about face to face, as Scripture testifies, was held by a greater desire for such kisses, after so many divine apparitions, that he still sought to see the desired one as if he had never yet caught sight of him. Thus all the others, in whom divine longing D lay in their depths, never paused in their desire; everything that came to them from God for the enjoyment of the desired one became fuel and kindling for a more vehement desire.
Just as even now the soul that is joined to God has an insatiable enjoyment; by how much more abundantly it is filled with enjoyment, by so much the more vehemently does it flourish in its longings. For since the words of the bridegroom are spirit and life, and whoever is joined to the spirit becomes spirit, and he who is joined to the life passes from death unto life, according to the voice of the Lord, for this reason the virgin soul desires to draw near to the fountain of spiritual life. The fountain, however, is the mouth of the bridegroom, whence the words of eternal life gush forth, filling the mouth that draws…
just as the A Prophet used to do, drawing the Spirit through his mouth. Since, therefore, it is necessary to apply the mouth to the water, drawing the drink from the fountain—and the fountain is the Lord, who said, “If anyone thirsts, let him come to me and drink”—for this reason the soul desires to apply its own mouth to the mouth that gushes forth life, saying: “Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth.” And He who makes life spring up for all and wishes all to be saved, desires that no one who is saved should be without this kiss; for this kiss is a cleansing of every defilement. Wherefore it seems to me that the Lord reproachfully says this to Simon the leper, “You gave me no kiss.” B For he would truly have been cleansed of his disease if he had drawn purity with his mouth. But he himself did not deserve to experience this, because his flesh had grown beyond measure through the disease, remaining so in its own desire that it could not be emptied of the defilement. But the soul that has been purified of all carnal leprosy, which hinders his vision, beholds the treasure of good things; and the name of this treasure is the heart. And the Prophet also prayed that a clean heart might be created for him, from which the supply of divine milk is given to the breasts, by which the soul is nourished, drawing grace according to the proportion of faith. Wherefore it says: “Your breasts are good above wine,” C silently signifying the heart by the placement of the breasts. Whosoever understands the heart to be the hidden and secret power of the divinity will not err. And we may rightly think that the breasts are the good operations of divine power for us, through which God, like a nurse, nourishes the life of each person, bestowing food suitable to each of those who receive it.
We learn also, in passing, another dogma through the philosophy of this book, namely that there is a double sense in us, one bodily, the other more divine, just as it is said somewhere in the Proverbs: “You will find a divine sense.” For there is a certain proportion and correspondence between D our psychic movements and operations and the instruments of the bodily senses; and we learn this from the present utterances of the Spirit. For wine and milk are judged by taste; but since those things are of such a nature as to fall under the understanding, the power of the soul that understands and apprehends them is absolutely an intellectual one. But the kiss is brought to operation through the sense of touch. For the lips touch one another in a kiss. And there is also a certain touch of the soul that touches the Word; it is brought to operation through a certain bodily contact and one that falls under the understanding, as he said who said: “Our hands have handled the word of life.” Similarly, the odor of divine ointments is not an odor of the nostrils, but of a certain power devoid of matter, and which is perceived by the intelligence, drawing along with the breath of the spirit the good odor of Christ. For thus the sequence of the virginal prayer has in its prologue: that “Your breasts are better than wine, and the fragrance of your ointments is above all spices.”
A By these words, as we have perceived, a meaning not small nor to be despised is conveyed. For perhaps in the act of preferring, through comparison, the milk that flows from the divine breasts to the joy produced in us by wine, we learn from what has been said that all human wisdom and knowledge of existing things, and all theoretical power and comprehending imagination, is unable, by comparison, to be set on a par with the simpler nourishment of divine teachings. For milk comes from breasts, and milk is the nourishment of infants. But wine, by reason of its energy and heat, becomes the enjoyment of those who are more perfect; yet even so, the perfection that exists in external wisdom is less than the teaching of the divine Word offered to infants. Therefore, the divine breasts are better than human wine. And the fragrance of the divine ointments is better than all the perfume of spices. Hence it seems to demonstrate the mind in this way: by spices we understand the virtues—for example, wisdom, temperance, fortitude, prudence, and such like—with which each person, using them according to his own power and choice, becomes fragrant in a different way, some one way, some another. One becomes fragrant through temperance or wisdom; another through justice, or fortitude, or some other of the things understood as virtue; and another, perhaps, has in himself a fragrance blended from all such spices. B Yet, even so, all these things could not come into comparison with that absolute virtue which the prophet Habakkuk says has covered the heavens, saying: “His virtue covered the heavens,” (Habac. III, 3) which is wisdom itself, and justice itself, and truth itself, and all things in particular. The fragrance of the celestial ointments, he says, has a grace incomparable to these spices known to us.
Again, in what follows, the soul, the bride, touches upon a higher philosophy, showing the inaccessibility and incomprehensibility of the divine power to human reasoning, in those words where she says: “An ointment poured out is your name.” For it seems to me that it is signified by this word that it is not possible for the infinite nature to be encompassed by the precision of a nominal definition; but all power of thought, and every expression of words and concepts, even if it seems to have something great and worthy of God, has not the nature to touch the reality of the Word itself. C Rather, just as from certain traces and sparks our reason conjectures the Word, guessing the incomprehensible through analogy with those things that are understood. For whatever name, he says, we might devise that is characteristic of the ointment of your divinity, we do not signify the ointment itself through the meaning of what is said, but we indicate through theological names some small remnant of the vapor of the divine fragrance. Just as with jars from which the ointment has been poured out, the ointment itself is not known by its own nature as it is—the ointment that has been poured out from the jars; but from a certain faint D quality of the vapor remaining in the vessel, we form a certain conjecture regarding the...
ointment that has been poured out. This A then is what we learn through the things that have been said: that the ointment of the Godhead itself, whatever it may be in essence, transcends every name and every concept. But the wonders contemplated in the universe provide the substance for the theological names, by which we name Him wise, powerful, good, holy, blessed, and eternal, and judge, and savior, and things of this kind; all of which indicate a certain small quality of the divine ointment, which the whole of creation, like a certain apothecary’s vessel, has impressed upon itself through the wonders that are perceived. “Therefore,” he says, “the damsels loved thee, they have drawn thee.” He stated the cause of the praiseworthy desire and of the loving affection. For who is there who does not love such beauty, if he only has an eye capable of being fixed upon its fairness and comeliness? The beauty that is grasped is not indeed great, but that of which we form a conjecture through what appears is infinitely greater. But just as material love does not reach those who are still infants (for infancy does not contain such passion), nor again B is it possible to see those who have been exhausted by extreme old age so affected, so also in the case of the divine beauty, he who is still an infant and fluctuates and is “carried about by every wind of doctrine,” and he who is old and worn with age, and has drawn near to dissolution, are found to be unmoved toward this desire. For such an invisible beauty does not touch them; but only that soul which has passed beyond the infantile state, and has reached the prime and vigor of spiritual age, and has received neither stain nor wrinkle, nor anything of the kind, and is neither lacking in perception due to infancy, nor is weak due to old age—the soul whom the discourse calls a “damsel”—that soul is persuaded by the great and first commandment of the Law, loving with all her heart and strength that beauty, of which human thought finds no description, C nor pattern, nor interpretation. Such damsels, then, having grown through the virtues, and having already entered by their age into the bridal chamber of the divine mysteries, love the bridegroom’s beauty, and through love they turn him toward themselves. For the bridegroom is such that he returns love to those who love him, saying thus in the person of Wisdom: “I love those who love me”; and, “I will distribute substance to those who love me” (for He himself is the substance); “and I will fill their treasuries with good things.” Souls, therefore, draw toward themselves the desire of the incorruptible bridegroom, “walking after the Lord God,” as it is written. And the cause of their love becomes the good fragrance of the ointment, toward which they always running, extend D themselves to the things that are before, making forgetfulness of the things behind. “For behind thy fragrance,” he says, “we shall run.” But those who do not yet possess the perfection of virtue, and are still youthful in age, promise to run toward the goal which the fragrance of the ointments points out. For they say, “Into the fragrance of ointments...”
A The soul which is more perfect, having stretched itself A with greater intensity toward the things before it, already attains the goal for which the race is completed, and is deemed worthy of the treasures that are in the storehouses. For she says, “The King brought me into His storehouse.” For she who desired to touch the good with the very tips of her lips, and had attained the beauty only as much as the power of prayer manifests, prayed to be accounted worthy of something like a kiss through the illumination of the Word. Having attained this, and having slipped in her mind to the inner part of the mysteries, she cries out that the race is not only in the vestibules of the good things, but that, by the firstfruits of the Spirit, by whose grace she was deemed worthy—as if by a certain kiss—to search out the depths of God, and, according to the great Paul, to see the things which are invisible even within the sanctuaries of paradise, and to hear the ineffable words, she acknowledges B that the race is not only in the vestibules.
The expression which follows next reveals the ecclesiastical economy through the Word. For those who were first instructed by grace, and who became eyewitnesses and ministers, did not limit the good within themselves, but also prepared the same grace for those after them. For this reason the maidens say to the bride—who was the first to be filled with good things and deemed worthy of the hidden mysteries, because she had drawn those words from the source— “We will exult and rejoice in thee.” For your exultation is our common joy; since, just as you love the breasts of the Word more than wine, so do we love you. Let us imitate your breasts, by which you give milk to those who are infants in Christ. Let us love wine more than man. And that the meaning may be made clearer, such is that which is said: “He loved the breasts of the Word” who reclined upon the breast of the Lord, John; and who, having applied his heart as a kind of sponge to the fountain of life, and having become full of the mysteries of Christ from an ineffable transmission of those things that are laid up, holds out to us the nipple filled by the Word, and makes us full of the good things placed in him by the fountain, preaching with a loud voice the Ever-Existent Word; hence, naturally, we also will say to him, “We will love thy breasts more than wine.”
If, therefore, we have become such as to be maidens, and neither be infants in our minds through a youth joined to vanity, nor be wrinkled through sin in a deformity which ends in destruction; but for this reason love the D flowing-in of your teachings, “Because uprightness hath loved thee.” For he is the disciple whom Jesus loved; and Jesus is uprightness. But this book names the Lord more beautifully and more fittingly than the prophet David. For he indeed says, “The Lord our God is upright,” but this [book] calls Him uprightness, by which whatever is crooked is corrected and brought to uprightness. But may this also come to be in us, so that whatever is
is made straight, and the rough places are made into smooth paths, by the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be glory for ever and ever. Amen. A
HOMILY II
Chap. 1, v. 4. I am black and beautiful, O daughters of Jerusalem, as the tents of Kedar, as the curtains of Solomon. 5. Do not look at me, because I am darkened, for the sun has gazed upon me. The sons of my mother fought against me; they appointed me as a keeper in the vineyards; my own vineyard I did not keep. 6. Tell me, O you whom my soul loves, where you graze, where you lie down at midday. Lest I should become like one who is veiled among the flocks of your companions. 7. If you do not know yourself, O beautiful among women, go forth along the tracks of the flocks; and graze your kids at the tents of the shepherds. B
The beauty of the sacred tabernacle of testimony which appeared from the outside was not equal to that which was concealed within. For the hangings were of linen fabric, and the curtains were of goat’s hair, and the coverings of red skins provided the outward adornment of the tabernacle. And nothing great or precious appeared to those who gazed from without beyond these things. But within, the whole tabernacle of C testimony was resplendent with gold and silver and precious stones: the columns, the bases, the capitals, the censer, the altar, the ark, the lampstand, the propitiatory, the basins, the veils and hangings at the entrance, in which the beauty was tempered from every kind of well-colored dye—the golden thread with hyacinth, and purple, and fine linen, and scarlet, artfully and elegantly woven together by a certain skillful work, and tempered from all things, it made the splendor of the woven object shine like the rays of the rainbow. D Now, what I am looking toward in beginning from this point will be made fully manifest to us from what is to be said. Once again the Song of Songs is set before us for the exposition of all philosophy and the knowledge of God. This is the true tabernacle of testimony, of which the coverings, and the veils, and the circuit of the atrium are certain amatory discourses and words signifying the disposition toward that which is desired, and the description of beauty, and the mention of the members of the body, those which appear on the face as well as those which are hidden under the clothing. But the things within are in truth a certain luminous lampstand, and an ark full of mysteries, and a censer of good fragrance, and an expiation for sin; that golden censer of true piety; the beauty of the veils and hangings, aptly and elegantly woven through the good color of the virtues; and the firm and immovable columns of reason, and the bases of the dogmas which cannot be moved, and the beauty of the capitals, through which the grace of the soul is explained in that faculty which holds the primacy, and the basins of souls, and all things that look toward the celestial and incorporeal administration of life, which the Law prescribes through riddles. It is permitted, however, to find those things in
the senses hidden in the diction, if only we render ourselves fit by the care of our life to enter into the Holy of Holies, having washed away with the laver of the Word every stain of disgraceful thought, A lest, by touching some dead and abominable thought against the commandment of the Law—like one who has touched something dead—we be excluded, unable to behold the wonders within the tabernacle. For the law of the Spirit does not admit the entry of such persons, unless one washes the garment of one's own conscience, according to the commandment of Moses, after having touched some dead and abominable thought.
The sequence of what has been previously examined leads the discourse to the contemplation of what was said by the bride to the young maidens. These are the words: "I am black and beautiful, O daughters of Jerusalem, as the tents of Kedar, as the curtains of Solomon." The teacher rightly begins the instruction of the goods from those things which it was necessary for the souls being taught to produce; for they are eager, through the things they offer, to prefer to any human reason—which they figuratively call wine—the grace that flows from her rational breasts, thus saying with the word: "We will love thy breasts more than wine, because rectitude has loved thee." B She herself adds to those being taught the wonder regarding her, that we might learn all the more the boundless philanthropy of the Bridegroom, who through love bestows beauty upon the one who is loved. For do not marvel, she says, that "rectitude has loved me," but that, being black because of sin, and having been made akin to the darkness by my deeds, He made me beautiful through love, exchanging His own beauty for my deformity. For having transferred to Himself the filth of my sins, He imparted to me of His own purity, making me a communicant of His own beauty; He first made me from ugly to desirable, and so He loved me. C After this, she exhorts the young maidens themselves also to become beautiful, displaying her own beauty beforehand, in imitation of the great Paul saying: "Become as I am, because I also am as you are," and, "Become imitators of me, just as I also am of Christ." For this reason she does not permit the souls being taught by her to look at the past of their life and despair of becoming beautiful, but by looking at her, to learn through this example that the present becomes a covering for the past, if it is blameless. For she says that even if now my beauty shines, which was fashioned in me through being loved by rectitude, I know that I was not bright at the beginning, but black. And such a form as this, dark and shadowy, my past life had fashioned around me. D Yet, even being that, I am this. For the likeness of deformity has been transformed into the form of beauty. And you, therefore, O daughters of Jerusalem, look up to your mother, the Jerusalem above. Even if you were the tents of Kedar, because in you there dwelled
the prince of the power of darkness A (for the word Kedar is interpreted as "darkness"), you will become the curtains of Solomon; that is, you will become the temple of the king, since the King Solomon has dwelt within you. Solomon, moreover, is the "pacific," who received his name from peace. For by "curtains of Solomon," he designated from a part the entire circumference of the royal tabernacle. In this sense, it seems to me that the great Paul stood B close by in his Epistle to the Romans, where he commends God's love for us, because, while we were sinners and black, he made us luminous and lovable, causing us to shine with grace. For just as at night, when shadows prevail, all things are blackened together, even if by nature they are splendid, but upon the arrival of light, that likeness to darkness does not remain in those who were darkened by shadow; so too, when the soul is translated from error to truth, the dark form of its life is transformed into luminous grace. These things also—which the Bride of Christ says to the young women—Paul, who was black and afterwards became splendid, speaks also to Timothy, in that he himself was C deemed worthy to become beautiful, he who was formerly a blasphemer, a persecutor, and a reviler, and black; for he says that Christ came into the world to make the black ones splendid, not calling the righteous to himself, but sinners to repentance, whom he caused to shine as luminaries by the laver of regeneration, having washed away their dark form through the water. This also the eye of David sees in the city on high, and he marvels at the spectacle: namely, how in the city of God, concerning which things have been said in glory, Babylon is settled, and D Rahab the harlot is made a bride, and foreigners, and Tyre, and the people of the Ethiopians are therein; so that no one can any longer reproach this city with a lack of inhabitants, saying: *Shall Sion say, "A man was born in her?"* For there, too, the tribesmen of the city are made foreigners, and the Jerusalemites become Babylonians, and the virgin a harlot, and the Ethiopians white, and Tyre becomes the city on high. Thus, here too, the bride makes the daughters of Jerusalem eager and spirited, commending the goodness of the bridegroom, because even if he receives a black soul, through the communion which it has with him, he renders it beautiful; and if one should be a tent of Kedar, he becomes a dwelling place of the light of the true Solomon, that is, of the pacific king dwelling in her. Therefore she says: *I am black and beautiful, O daughters of Jerusalem*, so that by looking toward me, you also may become curtains of Solomon, even if you were tents of Kedar.
Then she adds to what has been said the things which follow, through which she necessarily fortifies and strengthens the mind of those who are instructed, so that they may not ascribe the cause of this dark form to the Creator, but may understand that the free will of each individual has laid the foundations of such a form. *Do not look at me*, she says, *because I am become black.* I was not made such in the beginning. For it is not reasonable
that she who was fashioned by the shining hands of God should be smeared with some dark and black appearance. I was not such, she says, but I have become so. For I am not black by nature, but this disgrace came to me from an external source, when the sun changed my form from a shining color to black. For the sun, she says, has looked upon me. A What, then, do we learn through these things? The Lord speaks by a parable to the crowds, that he who sows the word does not cast the seeds of the word only on the good heart, but even if it be on [a heart that is] stony, even if it be overrun with thorns, and even if it be by the wayside and trodden upon, out of love for humanity He casts them upon all. And interpreting the particular traits of each case by the word, He says that this is what happens in the stony soul, that what is sown does not take root in the depths, but immediately promises a harvest and an ear through the growth that rises on the surface; but when the sun has warmed the subsoil more intensely, because there is no moisture present in the roots, it is dried up. B By this interpretation He calls temptation the "sun." We learn this doctrine, therefore, from the teacher: that while human nature was originally made a likeness of the true light, shining far from dark figures in the resemblance of the archetypal beauty, temptation, casting in a fiery heat through deceit, struck down the very first growth while it was still tender and without roots; and before it could acquire any habit of the good, and through the cultivation of the intellect could give drink to the roots in the depths, it immediately dried up the green and flourishing form through disobedience, and by this burning made it black.
If, however, the "sun" is named as the opposing attack of temptation, let none of the hearers be surprised, since in many places God-inspired Scripture teaches us just such a thing. For indeed, in the second of the Songs of Ascents, He makes this blessing for him who has help from the Lord who made heaven and earth, [namely] that he should not be burned by the sun by day. C The prophet Isaiah, too, prophesying the state of the Church, describes it as if it were a certain procession, brightening the narrative with the Word. For he speaks of daughters being carried upon shoulders, and sons carried in litters, and those who ward off the heat with parasols. By these, he describes in riddles the life spent in virtue, by "childish age" pointing to that which is recently born, simple and lacking in malice, and by the "parasols," the comfort from the heat that comes to souls from continence and purity. By these we learn that the soul betrothed to God must be carried upon shoulders—not trampled underfoot by the flesh, but sitting upon the mass of the body. D And when we hear "litter" (lampēna), we learn of the illuminating grace of baptism, through which we become children, no longer planting our footsteps on the earth, but being carried above it toward the heavenly life. And our life becomes shady and dewy through the parasols of virtue. This is the harmful sun, when its heat is not warded off by the cloud of the Spirit, which the Lord spreads over them for a covering. For this sun is...
the sun that burns the bright surface of the body by the assault of temptations and blackens its form into deformity. A
Next, he narrates whence the transformation from a good color to a black one took its origin. *The sons of my mother,* she says, *have fought against me; they made me a keeper in the vineyards; my vineyard I have not kept.* Here, let attentive ears be lent to me, not for the sake of scrutinizing the construction of the wording, but in order to consider the connection of the sense. And if it should not be accurately connected, let it be attributed to the weakness of the interpretation of those who translate into the Greek tongue from the Hebrew language. For those who have made it their study to be learned in the Hebrew speech find nothing of such a kind as to seem disjointed or not to depend on itself. But the figurative locution of our language, not corresponding to the elegance of the Hebrew tongue, brings a certain confusion to those who follow the signification of the diction upon the surface. B And this indeed is the sense of the words that have been proposed, as far as we understand it: Man was made from the beginning lacking no divine good. His duty was only to keep the good things, not to acquire them. But the snares of enemies stripped him of those things which he possessed, as one who did not guard the nature that had been given to him by the kindness of God. This, therefore, is the sense of the words. But the tradition of this meaning through the enigmatical words has this manner:
*The sons of my mother,* she says, *have fought against me; they made me a keeper in the vineyards; my vineyard I have not kept.* The discourse teaches us many things dogmatically in a few words. First, that which the great Paul also similarly declared, that C all things are from God, and there is one God the Father, from whom are all things, and there is nothing of those things which exist which does not have its being because of Him and from Him.* For *all things,* he says, *were made through Him, and without Him was made nothing.* But since everything that God creates is very good (for *in wisdom has He made all things*), He gave to the rational nature the grace of self-determination, and added the power of discovering those things which are pleasing to it, so that that which is in our power might have a place, and the good might not be forced and involuntary, but might be a success of choice and free will. But when this movement of free will, with authority and absolute power, was leading us to what seemed desirable, there was found some one in the nature of things who used his power and free will evilly, D and, in accordance with what the Apostle says, became the inventor of evils. He, indeed, in respect to that which is from God, is our brother; but in that he of his own accord fell away from participation in the good, and innovated the entry of evils, and became the father of lies, he set himself up as an enemy in all things in which the goal of free will tends toward the good. Through him, therefore, also to the others of the flight from the good, the...
occasion and impulse were added for us to fall away from the good—which indeed was also in human nature. Rightly does she who was once black, but is now beautiful, attribute the cause of her swarthy appearance to such sons of her mother, A instructing us through the things said: that for all things that exist, there is, as it were, a certain father, the cause of the things that are. And for this reason, all things that are considered to exist are brothers to one another; but the difference of choice has divided nature towards what is friendly and what is hostile. For those who have departed from the relationship to the good, and have established evil through the departure from the better (for there is no other substance of evil than the separation from the good), apply all zeal and planning to associate others also with themselves in the communion of evils. And for this reason she says, "The sons of my mother" (for by the plural B signification, she indicates the manifold nature of vice) "made war against me," not warring from outside by means of an incursion, but making the soul itself the battlefield of the war within it. For in each person there is war, as the divine Apostle interprets, saying: *I see another law in my members warring against the law of my mind, and bringing me into captivity to the law of sin which is in my members* (Rom. vii, 23). When, therefore, this civil war was stirred up in me by my brothers, who are enemies of my salvation, I became black, defeated by the enemies, and I did not keep my own vineyard. The vineyard must be understood as the same thing as Paradise. For there, too, man was appointed to keep Paradise. But the negligence in keeping it cast man out of Paradise, C and made him an inhabitant of the West, having led him away from the East. For this reason, the East-rising light appears to the West. For "Sing," he says, "unto the Lord, who ascendeth over the West" (Ps. LXVII, 5), so that when light shines upon the darkness, the darkness may be transformed by the ray, and she who was black may become beautiful again. But that which seems in the wording not to cohere with the discovered meaning can be reconciled in this way: "They set me," she says, "as a keeper in the vineyards." Which is equivalent to what is said: "They set Jerusalem as a fruit-keeper" (Ps. LXXVIII, 1). For they did not appoint her a guardian of the divine vineyard, as one might D immediately think from the words; but God is the one who appointed her, while they only fought in it, and placed her like a tabernacle in the vineyard, and like a fruit-keeper in a cucumber field. For the fruits that were being guarded having been lost on account of disobedience, it was left an empty spectacle, since that which was being guarded was no longer in it. And since God placed man to work and keep Paradise, the bride says this: that when God had placed my soul for life (for the delight of Paradise was life, in which God placed man to work and keep it), the enemies transferred me from the guarding of Paradise to the effort of laboring in the vineyard whose cluster produces bitterness and whose grape produces gall. Such a vineyard was Sodom. Such
too was that vine-shoot of Gomorrah, condemned together with the Sodomites, through whom the unhealable wrath of the dragons was poured out in the evil wine-presses of the Sodomites. B Indeed, even to this day, one may see many people who are caretakers and guardians of such vineyards, who diligently guard their own vices within themselves, just as if they feared that they might lose their evil. You see wicked guardians of idolatry—that which is practiced in impiety and avarice—how they keep vigil to guard their evils, deeming it a loss to be deprived of iniquity. In others, too, one may see those who have completely embraced pleasure, or pride, or haughtiness, or anything of that sort, how they embrace those evils with every effort, deeming it a gain that their soul should never be cleansed of those vices.
The bride laments these things, saying: "For this reason I became black, because, while guarding and keeping the weeds of the enemy and our own evil shoots, I did not guard my own vineyard." Oh, how many feelings are stirred in those who perceive these things with a sharp mind: *My vineyard I have not guarded!* This voice is openly a lamentation—a lamentation that moves the groanings and wailings of the prophets to compassion. *How has the faithful city Zion, full of judgment, become a harlot? How was the daughter of Zion left like a hut in a vineyard? How did the city sit alone, full of people, ruling over regions, and become subject to tribute? How has the gold been darkened, the good silver been changed?* How did she, who at first shone forth with the true light, become black? All these things, she says, happened to me because I did not guard my vineyard. C The vineyard is immortality; the vineyard is impassibility, and the likeness to God, and the alienation from every evil. The fruit of this vineyard is purity; this is that bright, beautiful, and ripe cluster, which bears a peculiar and excellent form, and which, through chastity, makes the senses of the soul sweet. The tendril of the vineyard is the conjunction and connection with eternal life. The growing branches are the heights of the virtues, which climb up to the altitude of the angels; and the leaves, which have sprouted and are beautifully shaken on the boughs by the quiet Spirit, are the manifold adornment of the divine virtues, which sprout forth together with the Spirit. Having possessed all these things, she says, and having gloried in the enjoyment of them, because I did not guard the vineyard, I became black, and having fallen from purity through vice, I put on a black and dark form; for such in form is the garment of skins. D Now, however, because of the uprightness that has again loved me—having become beautiful and luminous—I am suspicious of my prosperity, lest I lose that beauty again, since I have not attained the manner of guarding it safely through ignorance.
For this reason, ceasing to speak with the maidens, she calls back the bridegroom through prayer, having bestowed upon the beloved a name derived from her own affection for him. For what does she say? *Tell me, O you whom my soul loves, where you feed, where you lie down at midday, lest at any time I wander away following the flocks of your companions!*
A Where do you feed, O good Shepherd, who carry the whole flock upon your shoulders? For all human nature is one sheep, which you have taken up upon your shoulders. Show me the place of the pasture, make known to me the water of rest, lead me forth to the nourishing grass, call me by name so that I may hear your voice, I your sheep; and by your voice give me eternal life. *Tell me, [O you] whom my soul has loved.* For I name you thus, since your name is above every name, and to every rational nature it is ineffable and incomprehensible. Therefore, your name, by which your goodness is known, is the affection of my soul for you. For how should I not love you, who have so loved me, and that when I was black, that you should lay down your life for the sheep which you shepherd? B There is no greater love to be conceived than that you should exchange your life for my salvation. Show me, therefore, she says, where you feed, so that having found the saving pasture, I may be filled with the heavenly food, without the eating of which one cannot enter into life; and running toward you, the fountain, I may drink of the divine draught which you pour forth to the thirsty, shedding the water from your side, which the iron opened for this vein; of which, he who has tasted becomes a fountain leaping up to eternal life. For if you shepherd me in these things, you will certainly make me lie down at midday, when, sleeping together in peace, I shall rest in the light that lacks shade; for midday is entirely without shadow, the sun shining directly overhead, in which you make those whom you have pastured lie down, when you shall take your children with you into the bed. But no one is deemed worthy of the midday rest who has not become a son of light and of the day; but he who has equally separated himself from the evening and morning darkness—that is, where evil begins and where it ends—he is placed by the Sun of justice to lie down at midday. C Make known to me, therefore, she says, how one ought to lie down, and what is the way of the midday rest, lest at any time, having slipped away from your guidance, the ignorance of truth might cause me to be herded with flocks alien to your sheep. She said these things, anxious regarding the beauty that had come to her from God, and seeking to learn how her comeliness might remain hers forever. But she is not yet deemed worthy of the bridegroom’s voice, God having provided something better for her, so that the delay of the enjoyment might inflame her desire into a greater longing, so that joy might increase together with desire; but the friends of the bridegroom speak to her, explaining by counsel how the good things present to her might be in safety. But their speech is also covered by obscurity. For the text reads thus: D *If you do not know yourself, O beautiful among women, go forth in the footsteps of your flocks, and*
A feed your kids in the tabernacles of the shepherds. The meaning of these words is evident from the sequence of what has been examined; however, the construction seems, I know not how, less lucid. What, then, is the meaning? The safest method of preserving ourselves is not to be ignorant of oneself, and not, while looking at something other than what is within oneself, to imagine that one is looking at oneself. This is indeed what happens to those who are unobservant of themselves; seeing in themselves strength, or beauty, or glory, or power, or some other such faculties, or pride, or bulk, or the size of their body, or elegance of form, or anything else of that sort, they think that they themselves are these things. Therefore, they are unsafe guardians of themselves, for by their attachment to what is foreign, they overlook their own property, leaving it unguarded. For how could anyone guard what he does not understand? Therefore, the safest safeguard of the good things within us is not to be ignorant of ourselves, and for each one to know what he is, and to distinguish himself accurately from the things that are around him, so that he might not inadvertently guard what is foreign in place of himself. For he who looks toward the life that is lived in this world, and considers what is precious here to be worthy of preservation, does not know how to distinguish what is his own from what is foreign. For nothing of the things that pass away is ours. For how could you obtain dominion over that which passes away and flows on? Since, therefore, the intelligible and immaterial nature is stable and remains always in the same way and in the same manner, but matter passes away through a certain flux and motion, being always in change; it is necessary that he who is separated from that which stands, is entirely carried about with that which is unstable; and he who pursues that which passes away, and abandons that which is stable, is frustrated in both, as one who lets go of the one, but cannot retain the other. Therefore B the counsel of the bridegroom’s friends says what has been stated, namely: *If you do not know yourself, O beautiful among women, go forth in the footsteps of your flocks, and feed your kids in the tabernacles of the shepherds.* What does this mean? That he who has been ignorant of himself falls away from the flock of the sheep, yet he is pastured together with the kids, whose station has been cast off to the left, since the good shepherd has placed the sheep on the right, but has separated the kids from the better lot to the left. From the counsel of the bridegroom’s friends, therefore, we learn that it is necessary to look to the very nature of things, and not to wander from the truth through erring footsteps. C These words, however, must be explained more clearly. Many D men do not judge for themselves how things are by nature, but, looking to the custom of those who have lived before them, they wander from a sound judgment of realities. They do not set up some prudent reasoning as the judge of the good and honorable, but rather an irrational custom; whence they thrust themselves into rule and magistracy, and into the splendors that are in this world, and they esteem worldly power and greatness as of great value, while it is uncertain where each of these will end up after this life. For custom is not a sufficiently safe guarantor of the future, the end of which is found many times to be a flock of kids, not a flock of sheep. And you understand
A what I say clearly from the evangelical voice. But he who looks toward that which is proper to human nature—and this is reason—will indeed despise irrational custom, and will choose no good that does not bring profit to the soul. Therefore, one ought not to look at the footprints of the beasts, which are indicated by the heels of those who have preceded us in this earthly life; for the judgment of which path is preferable is not manifest from things that appear, until we have departed from this life and there recognize whom we have followed. He, therefore, who does not, from the things themselves, distinguish the good and the honest from that which is evil, but instead, following the footprints of those who have gone before, puts forward the past custom of life as a teacher of his own conduct, often, at the time of the just judgment, unwittingly becomes a kid instead of a sheep. B Therefore, it is possible to hear the friends saying these things: “O soul, you who have become beautiful from being black, if you care that the grace and beauty of your form endure for long, do not wander after the footprints of those who have preceded you in life; for it is not clear whether the path that appears before you, which you are following, is the track of kids; and because those who have trodden the path by their footprints are not seen by you, once you have passed through life and have been enclosed in the stable of death, it is to be feared lest you be inscribed among the flock of kids, whom you followed, ignorant of the fact that you were treading in the footprints of the life [of such creatures].” For if you do not know yourself, O beautiful among women, go forth in the footprints of the flocks, and graze the kids toward the habitations of the shepherds. C This can be understood more clearly through another manuscript, so that the construction of the words does not seem to lack cohesion. For it says: “If you do not know yourself, O beautiful among women, you have gone forth in the footprints of the flock, and you graze kids instead of the habitations of the flocks”; so that the meaning which appears in these words exactly coincides with the contemplation of the text that we established earlier. Therefore, so that these things do not happen to you, “pay attention to yourself,” says the Word. For this is the safest guardian of good things: know how much you have been honored by the Creator more than the rest of creation. The heaven was not made an image of God, nor the moon, nor the sun, nor the beauty of the stars, nor anything else of those things that are visible in creation. You alone have been made an image of the nature that surpasses every intellect, a likeness of incorruptible beauty, an imprint of true divinity, a vessel of the blessed life, a shaped model of the true light, D toward which, looking, you become that which He is, imitating Him who shines in you through the brightness that reflects back from your purity. Nothing of existing things is so great as to be measured against your greatness. The whole heaven is contained by the span of God's hand, and the earth and sea are bounded by the palm of His hand. But nevertheless, He who is so great and such as this, who grasps all creation in His palm, becomes entirely contained by you, and dwells in you, and is not constrained, while moving within your nature, He who said: “I will dwell in them...”
A and walk among them.” If you look at these things, you will not occupy your eye with any earthly thing. What do I say? Indeed, even the heaven itself will not be considered admirable to you. For how, O man, will you admire the heavens, seeing yourself more enduring than the heavens? For they pass away, but you, with Him who always is, simultaneously remain toward eternity. You will not admire the breadth of the earth, nor the seas extended into the infinite, over which you are appointed to preside, as if you were the charioteer of a yoke of horses, having these elements obedient and subject to your will. For the earth serves you for the needs of life, and the sea, like a well-broken horse, offers you its back and receives man as its rider. If, therefore, you know yourself, O beautiful one among women, you will despise the whole world, and, looking perpetually toward the immaterial Good, you will look down upon the error of those things that are in this life. B Pay attention, therefore, always to yourself, and you will not be led astray concerning the herd of goats, nor will you be displayed as a goat instead of a sheep at the time of judgment, nor will you be separated from the station on the right; but you will hear the sweet voice, which says to the wool-bearing and gentle sheep: “Come, you blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world.” May we also be deemed worthy of this, in Christ Jesus our Lord, to whom be glory forever and ever. Amen.
HOMILY III
C Cap. 1, v. 9. “To my cavalry in the chariots of Pharaoh, I have likened you, my neighbor. 10. How beautiful have your cheeks become as a turtledove’s, your neck as chains. 11. We will make for you likenesses of gold with studs of silver. 12. While the king was in his reclining, my nard gave forth its scent. 13. A bundle of myrrh is my kinsman to me; he shall lodge in the midst of my breasts. A cluster of cypress is my kinsman to me in the vineyards of Engaddi.”
Whatever has been considered by us in the proemiums of the Song of Songs before what is now read, relates similarly to the light that arises in the morning after the night. For that is not pure light, but a proemium of light; and the things spoken D are of such a kind, that they signify to us the rising of the true light, yet do not themselves possess the very orb of the sun appearing clearly. For in those passages the bride speaks, and the friends, and the maidens; but now it is the voice of the Bridegroom Himself, arising like the solar orb, hiding with the brilliance of its rays all the splendor of the stars that previously appeared, and that which had shone in the morning. Those things, however, all have a certain power of purifications and sprinklings, through which the soul, having been cleansed, is prepared to receive divine things; but that which is spoken now is a participation in the Divinity Itself, with God the Word Himself, through His own voice, imparting to the hearer a power into which death does not fall. And just as on Mount Sinai, Israel, having been prepared first by purifications for two days,
A on the third day at dawn is accounted worthy of the theophany, no longer occupied with the washing of garments, but receiving God Himself openly, for whose sake it had washed away the filth of the soul through the preceding purifications; so also now, the contemplation of the prooemia of the Canticle which occurred in the preceding discourses during the two days that have passed, has been of so much benefit as to wash and cleanse the sense which is in the things said from the filth of the flesh. But God the Word Himself today, which is the third day after the first and second purification, will appear—not in darkness and storm, and in the sound of the trumpet, and in a terrible fire consuming the region from the roots to the summit of the mountain, making His presence manifest and plain—but pleasant and accessible, transformed from that terrible appearance B toward the nuptial joy. For when the bride had asked to know the places of rest in which the Good Shepherd spends His time, so that she might not through ignorance suffer anything undesired; and then, when her friends had suggested the sure criterion of truth, that the soul should look to itself and know itself—for to be ignorant of oneself, they declared, is the beginning and consequence of not knowing anything else that is necessary; for how could one learn anything else, being ignorant of oneself? C Upon these things, as the ruling part of the soul is now sufficiently purified, the Word rises for the one who desires Him, making an exhortation toward the perfect through the acceptance of the things present. For praise bestowed upon rightful achievements instills a more vigorous zeal for the better in those who have achieved them.
What then is the word spoken by the true Word to the virgin? "To my mare," He says, "in the chariots of Pharaoh I have likened thee, my neighbor." But since it is not from what is at hand easy to discern the sense of the things said, it is necessary to examine with care, as far as it is possible, what is proposed. D We have learned from history another power that was set against the mare of Pharaoh: a cloud and a rod and a violent wind and a sea parted in two, and the depths in the dust, and the walling of the waves, and the dry abyss which was made solid ground through the midst of the springs of water; through all of which salvation came to the Israelites, while the whole army of Pharaoh with the horses and chariots was swallowed by the waves. Since, therefore, no equestrian force was set against the Egyptian army, it would be difficult to know to what mare that appeared against the Egyptian chariots the bride is now likened by the Word. "To my mare, indeed," He says, "the one which in the chariots of Pharaoh achieved the victory, I have likened thee, my neighbor." Is it not manifest that just as it is not possible for some to be defeated by a naval battle, unless a naval force has destroyed the power which is in the ships of the adversaries; so neither would anyone be defeated in an equestrian battle, unless some equestrian power had been set in opposition by the enemies? If, then, the strongest part of the Egyptian army...
was the cavalry, Scripture has named the force brought against them—which did not fall under the eyes, A by which victory over the Egyptians was obtained—the cavalry. For they, too, felt the one warring against them and called out to one another: "The Lord is warring against the Egyptians; let us flee from the face of the Lord." It is manifest that the true commander-in-chief arms his own force in a manner appropriate to the equipment of his adversaries. There was, therefore, a certain invisible power which was effecting the destruction of the Egyptians through the miracles that occurred at the sea, which Scripture called "horses." We believe this to be the angelic host, concerning which the prophet says: "You will mount your horses, and your riding is salvation."
But David also made mention of the chariot of God, saying: "The chariot of God is ten thousandfold," to which are yoked the thousands of those who guide it. Furthermore, the power that raised the prophet Elijah on high from the earth to the B ethereal sphere is called by the name of horses by Scripture; and the history itself calls the prophet the chariot of Israel and its horseman. Zechariah the prophet also named the horses that traversed the whole world, through which the earth is inhabited and remains at rest, conversing with the horseman standing in the midst of two mountains. There is, therefore, a certain horse—to the One who possesses the universe—for one [horse] is that which carries the prophet upward, another is that which causes the inhabited world to be settled, another is that which is yoked to the chariot, another is that which receives God as its rider for the salvation of men, and yet another is that which destroys the Egyptian power.
Since, therefore, there is great difference among the divine horses, which appears through their operations, the soul that has approached God through the race C of virtue is likened to the cavalry that destroys the Egyptian power. For so the Word says to her: "I have likened you, my neighbor, to my horses in the chariots of Pharaoh." The Word encompasses within itself many and great praises, and this comparison to these horses is a sort of catalog of achievements. For everything that is recorded concerning Israel in the region of the Egyptians—the slavery, the straw, the mud, the brick-making, the entire occupation and affliction regarding the land, the hard taskmasters of such works who daily demanded of them the clay tribute, on account of whom the water becomes blood, and the light is darkened, and the frogs crawl into the houses, and the furnace dust causes pustules to break out on the bodies, and, to speak all things once, the locust, the gnats, the bruchus, the hail, the afflictions of the firstborn—all these things, D and whatever else the history pursues for the better, through which salvation is acquired for the Israelites, is an argument of praise for the soul that is joined to God. For it would not have been likened to that army which destroys the evil Egyptians, through which Israel is liberated from the wicked tyranny, unless all these things had been rightly accomplished, which both destroy Egypt and prepare the way to God for those who migrate from the Egyptian clay to the land of promise.
A Therefore, since, as the divine Apostle says, "all things are written for our admonition," as many as the divinely inspired Scripture contains; the Word counsels us nothing else through the things said to the bride, than that we, having received the Word as our rider, and having struggled against the Egyptian horse along with their chariots and riders, and having drowned all their wicked dominion in the water, should in this way be likened to that power, just as if we had let loose against the water the opposing army as a horse.
B But in order that we might learn more clearly what is said, it is of the following sort: It is not possible to be likened to the mare by which the chariots of the Egyptians were sunk in the depth, unless one, being freed from the servitude of the adversary through the mystical water, and having left behind every Egyptian disposition and every alien malice and sin in the water, emerges pure, bringing nothing of the Egyptian conscience with him into the life that follows. For he who has been cleansed with precision from all the Egyptian plagues—blood, frogs, pustules, darkness, locusts and gnats, hail, and the downpour of fire, and the rest that the narrative of the story mentions—is worthy to be likened to that power of which the Word becomes the rider.
C Furthermore, we are not ignorant of what is signified by the plagues: how blood became a plague to the Egyptians, and the stench of frogs, and the change of light into darkness, and all the rest individually. For who does not know through what manner of life one becomes blood, changing from what was previously potable into corruption? And what one does, by which they generate in their own house the foul stench of frogs? And how one transforms a luminous life into works friendly to night and darkness, through which the furnace of Gehenna causes the wicked pustules of condemnation to boil up? In this way, also, it is easy to transform each and every one of the evils that are in Egypt into the instruction and correction of the listener; but it would be superfluous to extend our discourse over matters that are well known.
D Having, therefore, become superior to these and similar things, and having approached God, we also will surely hear: "To my horse in the chariots of Pharaoh have I likened thee, my neighbor." But perhaps the comparison to the horse distresses those who are temperate and have practiced a pure life, because many of the prophets forbid us to be likened to horses—Jeremiah, indeed, having signified the madness of adultery by the name of horses, in which he says: "They became horses, lusting after females; each one neighed at his neighbor's wife"; and the great David judging it to be a terrible thing "to become as the horse and mule," whose jaws he commands to be held in with bit and bridle. For this reason, the Word softens such an idea in what follows by saying: "Thy jaws are not of this sort," even if you are a horse, such that you have need of a bit and bridle for restraint; but rather, your jaw is adorned through the purity of the turtledoves. For He says:
A *How beautiful are your cheeks as turtledoves!* Those who have observed such things testify that this bird, if it has been separated from its mate, remains solitary thereafter and does not join with any other, so that temperance is naturally practiced within it. For this reason, this bird was included in the enigmatic signification of the praises by the Word, so that the resemblance to the turtledove might become for the jaw of the divine horse a bit, through which a pure life is signified as being characteristic of such a horse. Therefore, the Word says to her with admiration: *How beautiful are your cheeks as turtledoves!*
To this He adds yet another praise through a comparison, saying: *Your neck is as necklaces.* For having once entered into the metaphorical meaning, He envisions the praise for the Bride through those things observed in horses. For He praises the neck which bends into the shape of a circle, which we indeed see happening in the case of proud colts. B For the mention of *necklaces* denotes a circle, the shape of which, being shown upon the neck, makes the colt more seemly than itself. Now, *necklace* (ὁρμίσκος) in Greek is called a diminutive of that which is *harbor* (ὅρμος). *Harbor* (ὅρμος) is properly spoken of in maritime places, in which the shore, being hollowed out lunarly on the inside, receives the sea into its bay and, by itself, brings calm to those sailing in from the open sea. By metaphor, the ornament of the neck is called *harbor* (ὅρμος) on account of its shape. But when we speak diminutively of a *necklace* (ὁρμίσκος) instead of a *harbor* (ὅρμος), we indicate by means of such a word the similarity of the shape in a small degree.
Therefore, the similarity of the neck to necklaces reveals many encomia that are fitting for the Bride. First, because the horse, by bending its neck into a circle, looks toward the foundations of its own feet; by these it makes its course unhindered and safe, neither stumbling against a stone nor falling rashly into a pit. C This is no small thing for the praise of the soul—to look at itself and to hasten with all safety toward the divine course, avoiding and overcoming whatever impediments to the course arise from certain temptations.
Next, also the primitive name of the *harbors* (ὅρμοι) itself, from which the neck ornament was named *necklace* (ὁρμίσκος) because of the similarity of the shape, contains an excess of certain great praises when the neck has been likened to the *harbors* (ὅρμοι). And what are the praises signified to us through these things by the Word? A harbor is a pleasant and saving thing for those sailing in, and after the distress in the sea, to reach some tranquil harbor, in which, having made an oblivion of the evils suffered in the sea, they are entirely at rest, refreshing their long labors with quiet; there is for them no longer any fear of shipwreck, nor suspicion of sunken rocks, D nor danger of pirates, nor disturbance from blasts, nor does the sea, rising from the depths through the winds, surge—but those who were storm-tossed are removed from all such dangers, as the open sea is calmed in the harbor. If, therefore, someone were to so constitute his own soul that it might have tranquility in an unruffled stillness, being in no way moved by the spirits of wickedness, nor swelling through pride, nor foaming with the waves of anger, nor
tossed by any other passion, and carried about by every wind that stirs up the manifold waves of the passions. If, therefore, she herself is thus disposed, and keeps those who are storm-tossed in the sea of life in the midst of the surging deeps of all kinds of evils secure within herself in tranquility, unfolding for them a life through virtue that is level and undisturbed by any storms, so that those who have come to be in it are beyond the evils of shipwreck, she is rightly likened to the chains—which are spoken of in the plural, the word signifying perfection in each individual virtue. A For if she had been likened to one chain only, the praise would have been altogether incomplete, as not having the same testimony in the case of the other virtues; but now, by the word of the virtues, she embraces the entire testimony, which is the likeness to the multitude of chains. And this is a certain counsel offered by the Word to the whole Church, that we ought not, by looking to one single good, be negligent concerning the rest of virtuous actions. But if temperance has become for you a chain, shining on your neck in a pure life like certain pearls, let there be for you another chain, which contains within itself the precious gems of the commandments, and of itself supplies abundant beauty to the neck. Let there be for you also another ornament for the neck, namely, piety and a right and sound faith, encircling the neck of the soul. This is the golden collar, which shines about the neck from the pure gold of the knowledge of God; concerning which the proverb says: C *Thou shalt receive a crown of graces for thy head, and golden chains for thy neck.* (Prov. I, 9).
Such, then, is the counsel concerning the chains. And it would now be the time to add to the contemplation the discourse that follows, which the friends of the bridegroom make to the virgin. The expression is this: *We will make thee likenesses of gold with studs of silver, while the king is in his couch.* Of these, to one who looks to the sequence of the contemplation previously given to us, the meaning seems to be in some way completed and to have coherence. But the context of the word, having deep tropical significations, makes what is signified by the riddles difficult to understand. For since the beauty of the soul was likened to the horse which destroys the Egyptian chariots—that is, to the angelic host—and since the good rider says that for that horse the bridle is purity, which he indicated by Likening the cheeks to turtledoves; and that the ornament and collar are the various chains which shine through the virtues; the friends also desire to make some addition to the beauty of the horse, adorning the cheek-pieces with likenesses of gold, on which they also impress the purity of silver, so that the beauty of the ornament might shine forth more, as the radiance of the silver is mingled with the brilliance of the gold. But it would be necessary, while leaving aside the tropical significations, not to remove the discourse from the sense that is profitable to us. For the soul that has been purified by the virtues was likened to those horses.
A Yet it has not yet become subject to the Word, nor has it borne upon itself Him who for our salvation is carried by such horses. For the horse must first be adorned in all things, and then receive the King as its rider. Whether He applies the horse to Himself from above—He who, according to the Prophet, rides upon our horses and for our salvation goes to horse—or whether He comes to be within us, dwelling and walking about and penetrating even to the depths of our soul, makes no difference as far as the meaning is concerned. For to whom one of the two belongs, the other also rightly pertains; for he who has God upon himself also has Him within himself, and he who has received Him within himself has submitted to Him who has come to be within him. Therefore, the King will rest upon this horse. In divine power, as has been said, B sitting and reclining are the same thing; for whichever of the two occurs within us, the grace is equal. Since, therefore, the preparers of the King make the horse fit to receive Him through the preceding ornaments—and it is the same thing for God to be in someone as it is to be upon someone—leaving aside the consequence of the tropical signification, the ministers who prepare the horse have made it a couch. "For we must," he says, "make likenesses of gold with marks of silver, which adorn the form of the horse." So that, he says, the King may be not on a throne, but in His reclining.
The consequence of the wording, C as the Word has indicated, follows this manner; but it is worth noting not to pass over it without reflection, why it is not the gold itself that is taken for the ornament, but likenesses of gold, and not the silver itself, but the marks impressed from this material onto the likeness of gold. What, therefore, has come into our mind regarding these things is of this sort: all the teaching about the ineffable nature, even if it seems to show a sentiment most becoming to God and sublime, is a likeness of gold, not the gold itself. For it is not possible to represent with precision the Good that surpasses understanding and the conception of the mind; even if one be a Paul, who was initiated into the arcane mysteries in paradise, and even if he heard ineffable words, D the understandings regarding God remain ineffable. For He says that the words are ineffable concerning these understandings. Those, therefore, who bring us some good considerations regarding the understanding of the mysteries cannot say how their nature is in itself, but they speak of the "radiance of glory," and the "stamp of the substance," "the form of God," "the Word in the beginning," "God the Word." All of which, to us who have not looked upon that divine treasure, seem to be gold; but to those who are able to look toward the truth, they are a likeness of gold and not gold, appearing in the subtle marks of silver. Silver, however, is the signification of words, as Scripture says: "Silver tried in the fire is the tongue of the just." What, therefore, is signified by these things is of this sort, namely, that the divine nature surpasses every apprehensive understanding. And the notion of it that arises in us,
It is a likeness of that which is sought. For it does not show that very essence which no one has seen nor can see, but through a mirror and in a riddle it sketches a certain impression of that which is sought, taking its origin from a certain conjecture in the soul. Every discourse which is significant of such concepts possesses the power of an indivisible point, unable to manifest what the intellect intends; so that every thought and conception of the mind is beneath B the comprehension of God. And every interpretative discourse seems to be but a brief point, as it cannot be extended simultaneously with the breadth of the thought and the conception of the mind.
Therefore, the soul which is led as if by the hand through such concepts to the thought of those things which cannot be grasped, is told that it is necessary, through faith alone, to introduce into its own dwelling that Nature which surpasses all intellect. And this is that which is said by the friends: "We shall make for you, O soul, which has been rightly likened to the horse, certain images and likenesses of the truth." For such is the power of these words of silver, that the utterances seem to be certain fiery sparks, C unable to manifest with precision the underlying concept. But you, having received these things, shall become through faith both a beast of burden and a habitation for Him who is about to rest within you through the indwelling that is in you; for you shall become both a throne and a house for the Same.
Perhaps one might say that the soul of Paul, and if any other has become like him, is worthy of being addressed by such words. For that man, having once become a chosen vessel for the Master, had the Lord both above him and within him: becoming a horse in that he bore His name before nations D and kings; but in that he no longer lived himself, but showed Him living within him, and gave proof of Christ speaking in him, he became a house containing that Nature which cannot be contained.
When the friends of the Bridegroom had bestowed these things upon the pure and virgin soul (and these are the ministering spirits who are sent forth for service, for the sake of those who are to inherit salvation), the bride becomes in a way more perfect through the addition of the graces. And having drawn closer to the Beloved, before His beauty appeared to the eyes, she touches through the faculty of smell that which is sought, as if having perceived by the power of smell the property of a certain complexion, and she says that she has recognized His scent by the fragrance of the myrrh, whose name is nard, using this voice to the friends: "My nard has given its fragrance." "Just as you," she says, "do not grant us the very pure gold of the Divinity itself, but likenesses of the gold through the concepts which we are able to contain, not revealing what belongs to Him in a clear discourse, but through the small marks of the rational silver providing certain impressions of what is sought; so I too, through the sweet breathing of my myrrh, have recognized the same fragrance of Him by the sense."
A fragrance, I perceived the good scent of that One himself. But to me, that which is said seems to have the following meaning: since the artful and moderate mixture of many and diverse spices—all of them sweet-smelling, though not because of any other property—produces such an ointment, and since one fragrant herb, which is called nard, gives its name to the whole composition, yet everything from all the aromatic properties is blended together into one fragrance, so that the cleansed sense receives the very scent of the bridegroom: by these things said, we believe the Word is instructing us that although He—whoever He may be in His essence, who surpasses all the constitution and governance of existing things—is inaccessible, untouchable, and incomprehensible; yet the fragrance within us, B which is perfumed through the purity of the virtues, becomes for us in His place. It imitates, by its own purity, that which is by nature sincere and in no way subject to decay, and that which is good by goodness, and by the fact that it does not perish, that into which decay cannot fall, and by the fact that it cannot change or be altered, that which is immutable and unalterable. And in all those things that are rightly accomplished in us through virtue, we understand the true virtue of which the prophet Habakkuk says that it covers all the heavens. Therefore, in discoursing upon these things to the friends of the bridegroom—namely, that "the nard has given its scent to me"—it seems to me that she is philosophizing in this way and saying that if anyone, having gathered every sweet-smelling flower or spice from the various meadows of virtue, and having made their whole life one ointment through the good scent of individual C pursuits of life, should become perfect in all things, they do not have the nature to fix their eyes steadily upon the Word of God Himself, as if upon the circle of the sun; but in Him, as in a mirror, they behold the sun. For the rays of that true and divine virtue, shining upon a purified life through the impassibility flowing from them, make the invisible visible to us and the inaccessible approachable, by engraving the sun upon our mirror. Yet, as regards the meaning presented, it is the same thing to speak of the rays of the sun, or of the emanations and outpourings of virtue, or of aromatic scents. For whatever we posit from these toward the scope of the word, the judgment that results from them all is one: namely, that the knowledge of that Good which surpasses all understanding is present to us through the virtues, just as the primary beauty can be pondered through a certain image. Thus also Paul, D who is the bride, imitating the bridegroom through the virtues and depicting within himself that beauty to which there is no access, composing this nard like an apothecary out of the fruits of the Spirit—charity, joy, peace, and things of such a kind—said that he was the sweet scent of Christ, sensing within himself that inaccessible and surpassing grace to which there is no access, and offering himself to others like incense to be grasped at will, which, according to the disposition present in each person, became either a life-giving or a death-dealing fragrance. Just as the same ointment, if it be applied to a dung-beetle and a dove, does not produce the same effect on both, but the dove is made more vigorous by the fragrance
of the ointment, while the dung-beetle dies; so also the great Paul, in that divine fragrance—if anyone were a dove, such as Titus, or Sylvanus, or Timothy—imparted to him the good odor of the ointment, as one who progressed in every good deed by the examples set before him. But if anyone were a Demas, or an Alexander, or an Hermogenes, not bearing the fragrance of continence, they were driven away by the good odor just like dung-beetles. Therefore, he who breathed such good ointments said A that "we are the fragrance of Christ to those who are being saved and to those who are perishing; to some, indeed, the odor of death unto death, but to others the odor of life unto life" (II Cor. II, 15).
If, then, the evangelical nard has some affinity with the ointment of the bride, it is permitted to him who wishes to reflect by means of what is written, what that genuine, precious nard was, which, when poured upon the head of the Lord, filled all the house with fragrance. For perhaps that ointment was not alien to the ointment that gives the bride the odor of the bridegroom; but in the Gospel, being poured upon the Lord himself, it fills the house where the banquet was with fragrance. For it seems to me that in that place, by the ointment, the woman signified in a prophetic spirit the mystery of death, as the Lord testifies to the things done by her, saying that "she has anticipated B [anointing me] for burial" (Joan. XII, 3). And He suggests that the house filled with fragrance is to be understood as the whole world and the entire earth, saying that "wherever this Gospel shall be preached in the whole world, the odor of the deed will be distributed with the preaching of the Gospel, and it shall be a memorial," He says, "of her" (cf. Joan. XXVJ, 13 sqq.). Therefore, in the Song of Songs, the nard gives the bride the odor of the bridegroom; but in the Gospel, it becomes the fragrance of Christ for the whole body of the Church throughout the entire earth and in the whole world; and that which then filled the house is perhaps found through these things to have some connection and fellowship in both, so that the two might seem to be one.
And so much for this. But the following utterance, while it seems to conform to the argument of the epithalamium, as though spoken by her who is being prepared in the bridal chamber, nevertheless C indicates a greater and more perfect philosophy, which it belongs only to those who are already perfected to put into practice. What, then, is that which is said: "A bundle of myrrh is my kinsman to me; he shall abide between my breasts"? They say it is the concern of women who are fond of adornment not only to procure external ornaments so that they may be lovable to those who live with them, but also to take care that, by some fragrant scent, their bodies also may seem suitable to their own husbands; for this purpose they hide an aroma within the folds of their clothing, which, as it emits its own vapor, the body also is simultaneously affected by the good fragrance of the scent. With these...
A habits, what kind of song does the strong and high-spirited virgin sing? “To me,” she says, “is the bundle, which I hang from my neck over my chest, through which I provide good fragrance to the body, is not something other than the sweet-smelling aromatics; but the Lord Himself, having become myrrh, lies within the bundle of my conscience, dwelling and residing in my very heart.” For the local position of the heart, in the middle of the breasts, is said by those who have examined such things to be the place where that bundle is held by the bride, in which the good is stored away like a treasure. But they also say that the heart is a certain fountain of the heat that is innate in us, from which heat is distributed through the arteries into the whole body; through this the members of the body become warm and vital, being cherished by the fire of the heart. B Therefore, she who in the faculty of the soul that holds the supremacy has received the good fragrance of Christ, and has made her heart the bundle of this incense, so prepares herself that all the individual pursuits of life, like the members of a body, may glow with the Spirit that permeates from the heart, with no iniquity in any member of the body cooling the love toward God.
But let us pass on to what follows. Let us hear what the fruitful vine says about its fruits, which extends on all sides of the house of God, as the Prophet says, and is entwined by the tendrils of love with the divine and incorruptible life. “A cluster of cypress,” she says, “is my kinsman to me in the vineyards of Engaddi.” Who is so blessed, or rather, who so exceeds all blessedness, that in seeing his own fruit in the very cluster of his soul, he sees the Lord of the vineyard? See how much she has grown, C who in her own nard recognized the good breath of the bridegroom; the myrrh which made itself odoriferous, and having embraced the aroma in the bundle of the heart, so that the good might remain with her forever unextinguished, becomes the mother of the divine cluster—which, before the passion, was indeed blooming (that is, it was flowering), but in the passion it poured forth wine. For the wine that gladdens the heart becomes and is named the blood of the grape after the economy of the passion. Since, therefore, there is a double enjoyment in the cluster—the one from the flower, when it delights the senses with its sweet odor; and the other through the fruit already perfected, when it is available by authority to be enjoyed either in eating, or to be gladdened in banquets with wine—here the bride asks the flowering cluster to bring forth fruit, naming the blossom of the vine “cypress.” For the child Jesus, who was born for us, who progresses differently D in those who have received Him, in wisdom and age and grace, is not the same in all, but according to the measure of the one in whom He comes to be—insofar as he who receives Him is capable—such He appears: either as an infant, or progressing, or perfected, in accordance with the nature of the cluster, which is not always seen on the vine in the same form, but changes its form with time, blooming, verdant, perfect, mature, having become wine. Therefore, the vine promises by its fruit, which is not yet mature and timely for wine but awaits…
A the fullness of the times; yet it is not devoid of enjoyment as if it were for pleasure. For it gladdens the sense of smell instead of the taste, with the expectation of good things, sweetening the sense-perceptions of the soul with the vapors of hope. For the reliable and indubitable faith in the grace that is hoped for becomes an enjoyment for those who wait with patience for what is expected. Thus, then, is the cluster of Cyprus, a cluster promising wine, though not yet become wine, but by means of the blossom (and hope is the blossom) it gives assurance of the grace to come. B And the addition of the word Gaddi signifies a fertile place, in which the vine, having taken root, produces an abundant and sweet fruit. For those who have written the history of places say that the lot of Gaddi is suited for the nourishment of grape clusters. Since, therefore, he who has a will in harmony with the law of the Lord, and who practices this meditation through all the night and day, becomes a tree that is ever-blooming, being made fat by the streams of waters, and providing fruit in its proper season, for this cause the bridegroom's vine, having taken root in the fertile place of Gaddi—that is, in a deep understanding, which is watered and increased by divine teachings—brought forth this flowering and budding cluster, in which it beholds its Husbandman and Planter. How blessed is such agriculture, whose fruit is likened to the form of the Bridegroom! For since He is the true light, and the true life, and the true righteousness, as Wisdom says, and all such things, when someone through his works becomes that which He is, he thus, looking upon the cluster of his own conscience, looks upon the Bridegroom Himself in it, beholding the light of the truth with a bright and unspotted life of the truth. Therefore that fertile vine says, "My cluster is that which flowers and buds." He is that true cluster, who shows Himself upon the wooden beams, whose blood becomes a drink and a saving draught for those who are being saved and are gladdened, in Christ Jesus our Lord, to whom be glory and power for ever and ever. Amen. C
HOMILY IV
15. Behold, thou art fair, my neighbor; behold, thou art fair, thy eyes are doves. 16. Behold, thou art fair, my kinsman, and comely. 17. Our bed is shady. Our beams are cedars, our panelings are cypresses. 1. I am a flower of the field, a lily of the valleys. 2. As a lily among thorns, so is my neighbor among the daughters. 3. As an apple among the trees of the forest, so is my kinsman among the sons. I desired to sit in his shade, and his fruit was sweet in my throat. 4. Bring me into the wine cellar, set in order charity in me. 5. Strengthen me with ointments, strew me with apples, for I am wounded by love. 6. His left hand is under my head, and his right hand shall embrace me. D 7. I adjure you, O daughters of Jerusalem, by the powers and by the strengths of the field, if you should wake and rouse love, until she please.
A They say that those who refine gold by art, if by the mixing of some dirtier material the beauty of its splendor becomes tarnished, bring a remedy to its color through the smelting of fire; and that they often do this, and in each smelting observe how much more colorful the gold has become compared to the preceding one, and do not cease refining the material with fire until the very essence of the gold bears witness to itself that it is pure and in no way adulterated. For what reason, then, we have made mention of these things while treating the present contemplation of what has been read, will become manifest to us from the very sense of the things written. B Human nature was golden in the beginning, and resplendent from the likeness that it had with the sincere and incorruptible Good; but later it became discolored and black through the admixture of vice, as we heard the bride saying at the beginning of the Canticle, that the negligence of the keeping of the vineyard had made her black. The God who fashions all things in wisdom, curing her deformity, does not contrive for her some new beauty that was not there before, but leads her back to her former grace, and through a dissolution, re-smelting that which had been blackened by vice, he leads it to the sincerity in which there is no death. C Just as, therefore, skilled and careful goldsmiths, after the first smelting, consider how much of an accession of beauty has been made to the material, the dross of which had been consumed by the fire; and again, having performed a second smelting, consider whether the beauty added had been sufficiently refined from the first; and doing this often, by means of scientific testing, they always recognize the accessions of beauty: thus also now, the healer of the blackened gold, having brightened the soul as if by a certain smelting through the remedies applied to it—in what went before, he attributed to it the beauty of a certain horse in that which appears—now, however, he receives it as a virgin, by the beauty that henceforth has appeared in it. He says, in fact: "Behold, you are fair, my neighbor, behold you are fair; your eyes are doves."
D The discourse teaches through the things said that this is the resumption of beauty: that she has again drawn near to the fountain of the Good and has once more approached the true beauty from which she had departed. For he says: "Behold, you are fair, my neighbor." For this reason, he says, you were not fair before, because, being estranged from the archetypal beauty by the wicked neighborhood of vice, you had been transformed into deformity. And what is said is of this kind: human nature has been made capable of free choice, and to whatever the inclination of its own deliberate choice leads it, from that it is also transformed. For if it receives the movement of anger, it becomes irascible; and if desire gains the mastery, it is dissolved into pleasure. But if the conversion has been made toward fear and dread and the individual passions of the soul, it takes on the forms of each one of those perturbations of the soul; just as, on the contrary, if it receives into itself long-suffering, purity, peace, freedom from anger, freedom from grief, boldness, and fearlessness—all these, it signifies the character of each one of them.
A It happens, therefore, that since virtue is separated from vice without any intermediary, both cannot be present at the same time in one person: for he who has departed from temperance is in every way caught up in a dissolute and intemperate life, and he who abominates an unclean life has achieved purity in his rejection of evil. Likewise in all other things: he who is humble is separated from pride, and he who has puffed himself up through arrogance has cast aside humility. And what need is there to spend time detailing each individual case? Since, regarding things that are by nature opposites, the absence of one becomes the position and existence of the other, and since our free will is thus disposed, having the power to conform itself to whichever it chooses, the Word rightly says to the one who has been made beautiful: “By withdrawing from the society of evil, you have approached me; and by approaching the inaccessible beauty, you yourself have also become beautiful, fashioned like a kind of mirror into my character.” For human nature is truly like a mirror, being transformed according to the images of our own choices. For if it sees gold, it appears as gold and displays the same splendor of the material through the reflection; or if something deformed should appear, it expresses the same ugliness through assimilation—whether it be some frog, or a toad, or a centipede, or any other unpleasant sight—reflecting in its own form whatever turns out to be contrary to it. B Since, therefore, the soul, having been purified by the Word and having cast vice behind it, has received the solar circle into itself and has shone forth together with the light that appeared within it, for this reason the Word says to it: “You have already become beautiful, having approached my light, by that approach acquiring a communion of beauty. Behold you are beautiful, my neighbor,” he says. Then stopping, and seeing her as if in a certain addition and increase of beauty, he repeats the same statement, saying: “Behold, you are beautiful.” But in the first instance he called her “neighbor,” while here he identifies her by the appearance of her eyes: “For your eyes are doves’.” C For earlier, when she was likened to a horse, the praise was in the jaw and the neck. But now, when her own beauty has appeared, the grace and decoration of her eyes is praised. And the praise of her eyes is that they are the eyes of a dove. This seems to me to indicate this meaning, since in the pupils of the eyes are seen the faces of those who look with fixed gaze. For those who are skilled in the study of natural things say that by receiving the impressions of the images that emanate from visible things, the eye thus leads sight into operation. For this reason, the praise of the beauty of the eyes is the form of the dove, which appears in their pupils. For whatever one fixes one's eyes upon, that likeness one receives into oneself. Since, therefore, one who no longer looks to flesh and blood looks to the spiritual life, as the Apostle says, “living by the Spirit, and walking by the Spirit,” and putting to death the deeds of the body by the Spirit, and having become altogether spiritual, not soulish nor fleshly; for this reason D
testimony is borne to the soul liberated from bodily affection, that it has the appearance of a dove in its eyes: that is, the character of the spiritual life is illuminated by the discerning faculty of the soul. Since, therefore, its eye has become pure and capable of the character of the dove, for this reason it has the capacity also to gaze upon the beauty of the Bridegroom. A For now the virgin first fixes her gaze upon the form of the Bridegroom, because she had the dove in her eyes. For no one, she says, can say "Lord Jesus" except in the Holy Spirit; and she says: “Behold, thou art fair, my kinsman, and beautiful.” For since nothing else seems to me fair, but I have turned away from all things which were formerly reckoned among good and fair things, my judgment concerning the good no longer wanders, B so as to think anything other than Thee to be good and fair: no human honor, no glory, no worldly splendor, no power. For these things, to those who look with the senses, are indeed smeared over with the appearance of the good, but they are not what they are thought to be. For how could that be beautiful which in no way exists? For that which is honored in this world has its essence merely in the estimation of those who think it exists. But Thou art truly fair: not only fair, but being the very essence of the good, Thou art always such as Thou art: neither blossoming in time, nor again casting off the blossom in time, but extending Thy beauty and grace along with the eternity of life: whose name was kindness and love for mankind. For C Christ, who has sprung up for us from Judah, while the Jewish people is his brother, is called "kinsman" by her who loves, out of the nations approaching Thee on account of the manifestation of Thy Godhead made in the flesh.
Commentary on the Song of Songs
Then she adds, “Our bed is shaded.” This means, human nature knew Thee, or shall know Thee, become shaded by the dispensation. For Thou hast come, she says, Thou the fair, the kinsman, the beautiful, having become shaded by our bed. For unless Thou hadst shaded Thyself, by veiling the pure ray of Thy Godhead through the form of a servant, who could have endured Thy manifestation? For “no one shall see the face of the Lord, and live.” Thou hast come, therefore, D beautiful, but having become such that we might be able to receive Thee. Thou hast come with the rays of Thy Godhead shaded by the covering of the body. For how could mortal nature, and that into which decay falls, be joined with that which is in no way liable to decay, and to which access is not open unless, while we live in darkness, the shadow of the body had been interposed between the light? The bride calls this a bed, interpreting in a tropical sense the tempering of human nature with the divine. Just as the great Apostle also betroths us, a virgin, to Christ, and adorns the soul as a bride, and calls the attachment of the two into the union of one body a great mystery and sacrament of the union of Christ with the Church. For when he had said, “The two shall become one flesh,” he added: “This mystery is great; but I speak concerning Christ and concerning the Church.” For this reason, therefore, the mystery is a bed,
which the virgin soul has named as a conjunction and communion with God. Now it was not possible for this to happen well, except through the fact that the Lord appeared to us A shaded by his body. For he is not only the bridegroom, but he himself is also the builder in us of the house, and the architect of the house, and the material of the craft. For he places a roof upon the house, adorning the work through material that cannot rot; such is the cedar and the cypress, the strength of which, inherent in the woods, is more potent than any cause of decay, yielding neither to time, nor producing moths, nor perishing by mold. Of these, the cedars, because they are tall, occupy the width of the house with the roof; the cypresses, however, through what are called B coffered ceilings, beautify the inner construction of the work. The text of the passage is as follows: “The beams of our houses are cedars; our paneled ceilings are cypresses.” Now the enigmas signified by the wood are clearly manifest to those who follow the sequence of the thought. The Lord calls the varied assaults of temptations “rain” in the Gospel, saying of the one who built his house well upon the rock: “The rain descended, and the winds blew, and the floods came,” and the building remained unharmed C among these things. For the sake of this evil downpour, therefore, there is need for us of such beams. These would be the virtues, which do not admit the inflows of temptations within themselves, being firm and unyielding, and preserving the state that is incorruptible in the face of temptations. We might learn what is said if we examine the text in Ecclesiastes together with the passage before us; for there it states: “Through sloth the framing will be brought low, and through idleness of hands the house will drip.” D For just as if the timbers that hold up the roof were weak and feeble due to thinness, and the lord of the house were lazy regarding the care of the body, he would have no profit from the roof, as the rain would be seeping through in drops. For the roof is necessarily hollowed out, having yielded to the weight of the water, and the weakness of the wood cannot resist the assault of the weight, buckling under it. For this reason, the water trapped by the hollow permeates the interior, and these drops, according to the proverbial saying, drive a man from his own house on a rainy day. Thus, by the enigma of the parable, it is commanded that by the robustness of the virtues we be unyielding to the inflows of temptations, lest, becoming softened by the collapse of our passions, we become hollow and receive within our storehouses the influx of such waters flowing in from outside onto the heart, through which the stores we have laid up are destroyed. And these cedars of Lebanon, which the Lord planted, in which the birds nest, whose leader is the nest of the heron—these cedars, then, namely the virtues, fortify the house of the bridal chamber, in which souls nest, having become birds, and flying above the snares, led by the nest of the heron, which the
A Word calls [by this name in a hostile sense]. They say that this bird is of a hostile nature regarding the mixing, and that by some necessity of nature they must be joined to one another—crouching and struggling, and signifying loathsomeness. Whence it seems to me that the Word indicates by the name of this bird purity in an enigma. These beams, then, upon the ceilings of the pure bridal chamber, the bride sees. She sees also the ornament of the cypress through a certain well-polished and harmonious structure, which makes the beauty being seen to shine forth. For He said that the paneling of the ceiling is cypress; for paneling is said to be a certain well-proportioned and carved fastening of planks, which diversifies the beauty of the ceiling. What, then, do we learn through these things? The cypress is naturally fragrant, and it is itself incapable of rot, and is suitable for all carpentry, in that it is smooth and harmonious, and suitable for the ornaments which are made through carvings. Through the things said, therefore, I think we are instructed in this: that virtues which are in the soul should not only conduct themselves rightly in habit secretly, but that they should not neglect the grace which is in that which is visible. For B things good before God and men must be provided: and what is fitting indeed must be manifest to God, but [it is necessary] to persuade men, and to have a good testimony from those who are outside, and to shine with bright works before men, and to walk decorously and honestly before those who are outside. These are the panels, through the good odor of Christ, whose enigma is the cypress, fashioned with artistry in the decorum of life, just as the wise architect Paul knew how to compose things rightly and harmoniously, saying: "Let all things be done among you in order and decorously."
With these things thus rightly accomplished, an increase of the beauty that is in us occurs, as our wide and broad nature brings forth a fragrant and pure flower. The name of the flower is the lily. In which the naturally contemplated luster silently signifies the radiance of temperance. For the bride, reflecting on these things by herself, says: "I, after the bridegroom was shaded by the body at our bed—He who built a house for Himself, roofing the shelter for me with the cedars of the virtues, and adorning the ceiling with the fragrance of the cypresses—have risen from the field of nature as a flower, excelling the remaining flowers in color and fragrance. For I have been born a lily from the valleys." C The context of the expression, however, has it thus: "I am a flower of the field, a lily of the valleys." For truly, through the things previously considered by us, the soul has been cultivated in the breadth of nature. For having heard "field," we grasped the breadth of human nature, because it is capable of receiving many and infinite understandings, and words, and teachings. If, therefore, in the way we say, the soul has been elaborated by Him who cultivates our nature, a flower arises from the field of our nature, fragrant, and bright, and pure. This field, even if it is called a valley, when compared with the heavenly life, is nonetheless a field: and it is no hindrance that what has been cultivated in it should rightly become a flower. For rising from the concave to the high, it D brings about the increase of the beauty within us, as our broad nature brings forth a fragrant and pure flower. The name of the flower is "lily," in which the naturally contemplated radiance gives a hint of the sparkle of temperance. For this story the bride narrates about herself, saying: "I, after the bridegroom had come to our bed, shaded by the body, who built for Himself the house, having roofed the ceiling for me with the cedars of the virtues, and having adorned the roof with the sweet scent of the cypresses, have become a flower from the field of nature, excelling the rest of the flowers in color and fragrance. For I, a lily, have sprung up from the valleys." The expression, however, is as follows: "I am a flower of the field, a lily of the valleys." For truly, the soul cultivated in the breadth of nature through the things considered by us beforehand—for having heard "field," we perceived the breadth of human nature, because it is receptive to many and infinite thoughts and words and teachings. The soul, then, having been cultivated in the way described by the One who cultivates our nature, springs up as a flower, fragrant and bright and pure, in the field of our nature. But this field, even if it is called a "valley" in comparison with the heavenly conduct, is nonetheless a field, and it is not forbidden
A that she might be well-cultivated within it, so as to become a blossom. For the sprout rises from the hollow to the heights, as one may see happening in the case of the lily. For when the stem of the lily has grown upwards from the root like a reed for a long distance, only then does it put forth its blossom from the top, having removed itself from the earth by no small interval, so that, I think, the beauty may remain pure in a lofty place, not defiled by any mixing with the earth. For these reasons, the righteous eye desires that she who has become this—or rather, who has desired to become this, for we understand both from what has been said: either that she boasts as having already become what she longed for, or that she asks the husbandman to become a blossom, rising up through his wisdom from the valleys of human life to the beauty of the lily—whether, then, she wishes this to come to pass, or she has already become what she desired, the righteous eye of the bridegroom B rightly assents to the good desire of her who looks toward him, and granted that she should become a lily, not being choked by the thorns of life, which he called "daughters," tacitly showing, I think, in what is passed over in silence, the hostile powers of human life, of whom the inventor of vice is called the father.
"As a lily," he says, "so is my sister in the midst of the thorns, in the midst of the daughters." How great a progress we see in the ascent of the soul toward the heights! The first ascent is to be made like the horses that destroyed the Egyptian armies. The second ascent is for her to become close [to Him], and to have made her eyes those of a dove. The third ascent, then, is to be called no longer a neighbor, but a sister of the Lord. "For whoever does the will of my Father who is in heaven, he is my brother, and sister, and mother." Since, then, she has become a blossom, having suffered no harm from the thorn-bearing temptations in regard to becoming a lily, and having forgotten her people and the house of her father and mother, she has looked toward the true Father; and therefore she is called a sister of the Lord, having been adopted into this kinship by the spirit of adoption, and freed C from fellowship and union with the daughters of the falsely-named father, she again becomes more lofty than herself, and beholds the mystery through the eyes of the dove—I mean, through the spirit of prophecy. And what he says is such: "As an apple tree among the woods of the forest, so is my kinsman among the sons." What, then, is it that she has beheld? Holy Scripture usually calls the material life of men a "forest," in which the various kinds of passions run wild, in which destructive beasts dwell and hide themselves as in a lair, whose nature, remaining inactive in light and sun, possesses strength through darkness. For after the sun has set, says the Prophet, night coming on, the beasts of their lairs come forth in it. Since, therefore, the solitary wild beast that is nurtured in the forest has ravaged the beautiful vine of human nature, as the Prophet says, "The boar out of the wood has ravaged it, and a solitary wild beast has grazed upon it," therefore D the apple tree is planted in the forest, which in that which
pertains to its wood is of the same essence as the human material—for it was tempted in all things according to the likeness, without sin—but in that it bears such fruit, through which the senses of the soul are sweetened, it has a greater difference from the forest than the lily has from the thorns. For the lily provides delight only as far as appearance and fragrance are concerned; but the grace of the apple is distributed aptly and conveniently to the three senses, both delighting the eye with the beauty of its appearance, and refreshing the sense of smell through its fragrance, and, becoming food, it sweetens the sense of taste. Rightly, then, did the bride perceive what her own difference was from the Lord, in that He becomes for us joy of the eyes, as He who is light in them, and ointment for the sense of smell, and life for those who eat. For he who will eat Him, shall live, as the Gospel says somewhere. B But human nature, having been perfected through the virtues, becomes a flower, not only nourishing the cultivator, but adorning itself. For He is not in need of our good things, but we are in need of His goods, as the Prophet says: "For Thou hast no need of my goods."
Therefore the purified soul beholds the bridegroom, having become an apple tree among the trees of the forest, in order that, having grafted all the wild branches of the forest into itself, it might cause them to break forth with similar fruit. Just as, therefore, we understood the daughters—because they were likened to thorns—to be the children of him who is falsely called father, who indeed having sprung up together with the flower, in time themselves also pass over to the grace of the lily; so here too, having heard those being compared to such trees of the forest, we did not think that the friends of the bridegroom were being signified, C but rather the adversaries, whom—being children of darkness and children of wrath—He transforms through the communion of the fruit into children of light and children of day. Therefore the soul that has exercised senses says: "His fruit is sweet in my throat." But fruit is entirely doctrine: "How sweet," says the Prophet, "are Thy words to my throat, more than honey to my mouth." D "As an apple tree among the trees of the forest, so is my beloved among the sons. I desired and sat under His shadow, and His fruit was sweet in my throat." For then truly the senses of the soul are sweetened by the Word, when the shadow of the apple tree separates us from the heat of the temptations of the evil one, so that we may not be scorched by such a sun, which burns down upon a bare head. It is not possible, moreover, to be refreshed under the shadow of the tree of life in any other way than if desire has led the soul toward it. Do you see why the power of desiring is planted in you? Namely, that it might bring to you a longing for the apple, the enjoyment of which becomes manifold to those who have approached. For the eye is refreshed by the beauty of the appearance, and the nose breathes in the fragrance, and the body is nourished, and the mouth is sweetened, and the heat is turned away, and the shadow becomes a seat upon which the soul sits, having denied the chair of pestilence.
A Then she says: "Introduce me into the wine cellar; set charity in order in me. Stay me with flowers, make me a bed with apples, for I am wounded by love." As the soul that has been rightly likened to a horse runs in the divine race, so it stretches itself toward the things before it with frequent and ordered leaps, and it does not turn itself toward the things behind, occupying itself as far as is possible. Moreover, it thirsts. And the intensity of the thirst is so increased that it does not draw from the cup of wisdom, nor does it think it sufficient for the quenching of its thirst even if it pours the whole cup into its mouth; but it asks to be led down to the wine cellar itself, and to put its mouth to the presses themselves that gush forth the sweet wine, and to see the cluster being pressed in the presses, and that vine that nourishes such a cluster, and the husbandman of the true vine, who makes the cluster so well-nourished and sweet—every one of which it would be superfluous to explain, since the tropical meaning considered in each of them is manifest. B Yet she wishes entirely to see that mystery, how the garments of the bridegroom are reddened by the treading of the press. Concerning which the prophet says: "Why are thy garments red, and thy apparel as of one that has trodden the press?" (Isa. LXIII, 2). Because of these things and those of this kind, she desires to enter the house in which is the mystery and sacrament of wine. Then, having entered, she again leaps toward something greater. For she asks to be subjected to charity. But charity is God, according to the voice of John (1 Joan. iv, 8), to Whom the soul being subjected, David declared to be salvation (Psal. LXI, 2). "Since therefore I have entered," she says, "into the wine cellar, subject me to charity," or "set charity in order upon me." For in whatsoever way you use the inversion of the word, that which is signified by either is the same, namely, both from the fact that she is subjected to charity, and from the fact that charity is ordered for her. C Now, however, we are perhaps taught some dogma by this voice, namely, of what kind is the charity to be rendered to God, and how it is fitting for us to be affected toward one another. For if all things ought to be done in order and with decorum, by so much the more is order fitting in such matters. For neither would Cain have been condemned for dividing badly if, along with that which he had rightly offered, he had also observed what is fitting in the order both of those things that remained for his own use, and of those that were consecrated to God. D For when it was necessary to offer to God the first fruits of the sacrifice from the first-born, he himself, having been filled with the things that were more precious, followed up by presenting God with the remnants. Therefore, it is necessary to know the order of charity, which it sets forth through the law—namely, how it is necessary to love God, and one's neighbor, and one's wife, and one's enemy—lest the fulfillment of charity become disordered and reversed. For it is necessary to love God, indeed, with all the heart and soul and power and sense; and the neighbor as oneself; and the wife, if indeed she is of a purer soul, as Christ the Church; but if she is of a more passionate soul, as one's own body;
A for so commands Paul, the ordainer of such things. But as for the enemy, he commands not to repay evil for evil, but to recompense injustice with acts of kindness. Yet nowadays, one may see love in many people confused and disorderly, wandering about through mismatching and lack of harmony. For some, if they chance to be more warmly inclined toward them, love money, and honors, and wives with their whole soul and strength, so that they would even be willing to lay down their lives for them; but toward God, only as much as seems sufficient; while toward their neighbor they would hardly show the love that is allotted to enemies. But the disposition toward those who hate us is to avenge those who have offended us with a greater evil. “Set in order,” therefore, he says, “my love toward me,” so that I may render to God as much as is owed, and in the case of each of the others, not stray from the proper measure. B Or perhaps it is possible to surmise this also through this discourse, that since I, who was once loved in the first instance, was reckoned among the enemies through disobedience, but have now returned again to the same grace, having been joined to the bridegroom through love: “Confirm for me,” she says, “the ordered and immutable state of this grace, you friends of the bridegroom, by your care and attention preserving for me the inclination toward the better.”
C Having said these things, she passes again to that which is more sublime; for she asks to be supported by ointments in order to obtain the firmness of good things. “Support me,” she says, “with ointments.” O marvelous and new supports! How do ointments become the pillars of a house? How does the stability of the structure of the roof rest upon a sweet-smelling fragrance? Is it not surely manifest that the reality of the virtues, being perfected in us in many ways, is also named according to the differences of its operations? For virtue is not only to look upon the good, and to be a participant in that which is better, but also to preserve immutability in the good. Therefore, he who wishes to be supported by ointments seeks for himself to have firmness in the virtues. For virtue is an ointment, since it is separated from every foul odor of sins. D One would also admire the consistency of what has been said, regarding with what she desires her house to be strewn. Not with certain brambles and thorns, and grass, and reeds, and hay (or rather, as the Apostle says, with wood and hay and stubble), with which wooden houses are constructed, but the material for strewing the house is apples. “Strew for me,” she says, “a couch with apples.” So that this fruit may be everything in all things for her: the beauty, the ointment, the sweetness, the nourishment, the cooling shade, the resting throne, the stabilizing pillar, the covering roof. For as beauty is seen with desire, as ointment delights the sense of smell, as nourishment fattens the body and sweetens the taste, as shade cools the burning heat, as a throne gives rest from labor, as the roof of a house provides a covering for the dweller, as a pillar provides immutability:
A just as a visible apple decorates the roof. For what more beautiful spectacle could one devise than an arrangement of apples, when the fruit is well-disposed, joined together continuously upon some level and even surface, and varied in its outward appearance by the blending of the redness of the fruit with a certain whiteness? If, therefore, it were possible for the positioning of the apples, placed upon a surface, to be seen raised up on high, what could be seen more elegant than such a view? This is not, however, of such a nature that it cannot come to pass in the desire for those goods which fall under the understanding. For that kind of fruit is not heavy, nor does it weigh down and sink toward the earth, but by its own nature it is borne upward; for virtue raises itself up and looks toward the heights. That is why the Bride desires the roof of her own house to be decorated with the beauty of such apples. For it does not seem to me that the principal study of the Word B is to show some spectacle spread out on the ground through the arrangement of apples. For what guidance toward virtue could be obtained through these things, unless some intelligence providing us with benefit were to be contemplated in what has been said?
What, then, is it that we conjecture? He who sprouted in the forest of our nature out of benevolence toward mankind, by reason of His having become a partaker of flesh and blood, became an apple. For it is possible to see in this fruit the likeness of both these things through its coloring. For by a certain whiteness it imitates the property of flesh, while the redness overlaid upon it testifies by its very appearance that it has a certain kinship with the nature of blood. C Therefore, when the soul which delights in divine pleasures desires to look within those roofs, we are instructed by this enigma. For by the fact that we, looking upward, pay attention to the apples, we are led to the heavenly way of life through the evangelical teachings. These things He who comes from above, and is above all, demonstrated to us through His manifestation in the flesh, having shown in Himself the examples of all good ways of life, as the Lord says: *Learn from me, for I am meek and humble in heart.* D The Apostle also, explaining this same humility to us, says the same thing. For it is possible through one contemplation to confirm the whole truth in word. For He says to those who look upward: *Let this mind be in you, which was also in Christ Jesus: who, being in the form of God, thought it not robbery to be equal with God: but made himself of no reputation, and took upon him the form of a servant,* he who dwelled in this life through flesh and blood, and for the sake of the joy that was set before Him, voluntarily became a partaker of our humanity, and descended even to the experience of death. On account of these things the Bride says: *Stay me with apples,* so that, always looking toward the heights, I may gaze at the examples of the virtuous deeds which are shown in the Bridegroom. There is meekness; there is freedom from anger; there is the forgetting of injuries received from enemies, and humanity toward those who cause trouble, and the returning of a good deed for evil: there is self-control, there is purity, there is
temperance, purity, patience, and is unmixed with any vainglory or the deceit that exists in those things which pertain to this life. A
Post-haste, she praises the archer for hitting the mark correctly, as one who beautifully directs the shaft at her. "I am wounded," she says, "by love." By this discourse, she indicates the shaft that is lodged deep in her heart. Now, the one who shoots the shaft is Love, or Charity. We have learned from Holy Scripture that God is Charity, who sends forth His chosen shaft, namely the Only-Begotten Son, to those who are being saved, having daubed the triple-pointed tip with the Spirit of life. The tip is faith, in order that he who possesses it may, together with the shaft, bring in the archer as well, as the Lord says: "I and the Father are one, and we will come, and make our abode with him." B Therefore, the soul that has been raised on high through divine ascents sees the sweet shaft of love within itself, by which it was wounded, and makes a boast of the wound, saying, "I am wounded by love." O beautiful wound and sweet stroke, through which inner life enters, for the division caused by the shaft has opened a kind of door and entrance for itself! For as soon as she received the shaft of love, the shooting was immediately transformed into nuptial joy. You see how the hands handle the bow, divided in their operations according to the need. For the left hand grasps the bow, while the right draws the string toward itself, pulling the shaft along by it, so that by the movement of the left hand, it is directed to the mark. C She, therefore, who a little while before was the target of the shaft, now sees herself in the hands of the archer in the place of the shaft, with the right hand and the left grasping the shaft differently. But since, through the trope taken from the marriage song, the meanings of the doctrines are led on in sequence, he did not make the tip of the shaft be held by the left, nor the right to hold the other part, so that the soul might be a shaft in the hand of the Mighty One directed upward to the mark; but he made the left hand to be placed under the head in place of the tip, and the right to hold what remains, so that, I think, the discourse might philosophize about the divine ascent through a double enigma, showing that the same one is both Bridegroom and archer, and our soul is both bride and shaft: as shaft, using the purified soul and directing it toward the good mark; D as bride, leading it upward to the participation of eternity, into which destruction does not fall, granting the length of life and years of life through the right hand; and through the left, the riches of eternal goods and the glory of God, of which those who seek the glory of the world cannot be partakers. For this reason she says, "His left hand is under my head," through which the shaft is directed toward the mark. "And his right hand embracing me and drawing me to himself makes me light, that I may be carried on high, that I may be sent thither, and not be separated in the least from the archer." So that one is carried at once through the shooting, and rests in the hands of the Lord. He speaks of the properties of these hands.
A For the Proverb says that length of life and years of life are in the right hand of wisdom, and in her left hand, wealth and glory.
Then he turns his discourse to the daughters of the Jerusalem above. The discourse is an exhortation offered with an adjuration, that love might always be increased and multiplied, until He who wills that all men be saved and come to the knowledge of the truth might make His will active. And this is the discourse which has been made: "I adjure you, O daughters of Jerusalem, in the powers and in the strengths of the field, if you wake and awaken love, until He wills." B An oath is a discourse confirming the truth through itself. The operation according to an oath is twofold. For either it confirms the truth for the one who hears, or through the adjuration it brings necessity upon others so that they lie not at all—for example, "The Lord swore truth to David, and He will not frustrate it,"—where the fidelity of the promise is strengthened by the oath. C When Abraham, feeling concern for the noble marriage of his only-begotten son, gives orders to his own servant, that he should not join in marriage with Isaac any of those of the race of Canaan, who were condemned to servitude, so that the nobility of the succession might not be corrupted by the mingling of a servile race, but that he should take a wife for his son from his own fatherland and kin; he brings necessity upon him, so that he might not be slothful regarding the command, by making him swear—if indeed he should send him—that he would surely do what he had determined regarding his son. The servant is therefore adjured by Abraham, that he might obtain for Isaac the fitting marriage. D Since, therefore, the operation of an oath is twofold, here the soul which has ascended to such a height—as much as we have observed in those things previously examined—in setting forth the progress toward that which is perfect for the souls being instructed, does not offer to those who hear the oath that which she has attained so that they might be free from any doubt; but rather, through the adjuration, she leads them forward to a life lived according to virtue, so that they might have love insomnolent and waking until the good will of Him comes to its end. And this is that all be saved and come to the knowledge of the truth. But as the adjuration there took place at the thigh of the patriarch, so here it is in the powers and strengths of the field, the word saying this: "I adjure you, O daughters of Jerusalem, in the powers and in the strengths of the field, if you wake and awaken love, until He wills." We must therefore consider in these things, first, what the field is; then, what the strength and power of the field is, and whether these differ from one another, or if through both the one thing is signified; in addition to these, what it is to "wake" and what it is to "awaken" love. For the phrase, "until He wills," was already previously explained through what has been said.
A That the voice of the Lord signifies the world by the word "field" is clear to everyone from the Gospels; and that the fashion of this world passes away, and that nothing firm or stable is shown in its unstable nature, is evident from the great and sublime voice of Ecclesiastes, who numbered everything that appears and passes away among things that are vain. What, then, is the power of such a field, which is the world? Or what is the strength of those whose memory, through the adjuration, imposes on the daughters of Jerusalem the commandment? For if we look toward the things that appear as though there were some power in them, Ecclesiastes rejects such an opinion, calling "vain" whatever is shown and pursued in them. For that which is vain has no foundation. And that which does not exist in essence possesses no strength. B Perhaps, through the plural significance regarding this power, can some conjecture of the meaning be found? For we know of such a distinction in the Holy Scripture regarding names of this kind: when "power" is spoken in the singular, the thought is directed toward the Divine; but when it is uttered through the plural form, it represents the angelic nature to the word. For example: "Christ, the power of God and the wisdom of God" (1 Cor. 1, 24); here in the singular, it signifies God. "Praise the Lord, all His powers" (Ps. CXLVIII, 2). Here the plural of the powers indicates the significance of the intelligible nature of the angels. Furthermore, the name "strength," taken together with "power," has a clearer expression of the meaning; thus, Scripture, through the repeated repetition of words that have the same force, firmly and more stably expresses what it intends—as in that passage, "The Lord is my strength and my firmament" (Ps. XVIII, 2). For the thing signified by each of the words is the same, but the composition of those that have equal force makes an indication of the intensity of what is signified. Therefore, the plural significance of the powers, and C the similar mention of the strengths, seems to lead the mind of the hearers to the angelic nature; so that the adjuration, which is applied by the teacher to the souls that are learning, for the confirmation of those things which have been determined, is not made against this world which passes away, but against the always-enduring nature of the angels, toward whom one is commanded to look, so that it may confirm by their example the stability and constancy of the life which is led according to virtue. For since He has promised that the life after the resurrection will be similar to the angelic nature (and He who promised is not a liar), it would be consequential that the life which is in the world also be prepared for that which is to be in the future, so that those living in the flesh, and dwelling in the field of this world, may not live according to the flesh, nor be fashioned to this world, but may premeditate the life which is hoped for through the life which is led in this world. D For this reason the bride brings to the souls of those who are learning this confirmation by an oath, so that their life, which is rightly led in this field, may look toward the virtues, through im-
imitating the angelic purity by means of impassibility. For in this way, when love is awakened and aroused—that is, when it is lifted up and always increasing toward the greater by the addition of more—the good will of God is said to be accomplished as in heaven, so also upon earth, when the angelic impassibility is brought to perfection in us as well. These things we have contemplated regarding the passage: "*I adjure you, O daughters of Jerusalem, by the powers and by the virtues of the field, if you should awaken and arouse love, until it so pleases.*" If, however, some other interpretation should be found that draws closer to the truth of the matters being sought, we shall accept the grace, and we shall offer thanks to Him who reveals the hidden mysteries through the Holy Spirit, in Christ Jesus our Lord, to whom is due the glory forever and ever. Amen. B
HOMILY V
C Cap. II, v. 8. *The voice of my kinsman! Behold, he comes leaping upon the mountains, bounding over the hills. 9. My kinsman is like a gazelle or a young hart upon the mountains of Bethel. Behold, he stands behind our wall, looking through the windows, peering through the lattice. 10. My kinsman responds and says to me: Arise, come, my neighbor, my fair one, my dove. 11. For behold, the winter has passed, the rain has gone and departed. 12. The flowers have been seen on the earth, the time of pruning has arrived. The voice of the turtledove has been heard in our land. 13. The fig tree has put forth its green figs. The vines are in blossom, they have given forth their fragrance. Arise, come, my neighbor, my fair one, my dove. 14. My dove in the shelter of the rock, near the rampart, show me your face, and make me hear your voice; for your voice is sweet, and your face is comely. 15. Catch for us the little foxes that ruin the vineyards, for our vineyards are in blossom. 16. But my kinsman is mine, and I am his; he who grazes among the lilies. 17. Until the day breathes and the shadows are moved. Return quickly, O my kinsman, and be like a gazelle or a young hart upon the mountains of the clefts.*
The things now set before us through this reading from the philosophy of the Song of Songs lead us to a desire for the contemplation of those goods which are above, and bring a heaviness to our souls, producing in a way a despair regarding the apprehension of those things which are beyond comprehension. For how could anyone not be heavily disquieted if he considers that the soul, which has been purified and lifted up through love by so many ascents to the participation of the Good, does not yet, as the Apostle says, seem to have grasped what is being sought? And yet, looking to those ascents which were completed in the words preceding these, I called her blessed in her ascent, when she recognized the sweet apple by distinguishing it from the barrenness of the woods, and deemed its shadow desirable, and, finding sweetness in the fruit, came into the storehouses of gladness. And he names wine
A gladness, with which the heart of those who partake is gladdened, and as one stationed in love is supported by ointments, encompassed by the covering of apples, and as one having received in her heart the arrow of love, she herself in turn becomes an arrow in the hands of the archer, B being directed toward the mark of truth in the hands of the mighty one. Seeing these things and such as these, I reckoned that she who had been raised to such a height had laid hold of the ultimate happiness; but, as it seems, what has been gone through are still only the preludes of the ascent. For she calls all those ascents not a vision and clear account of the truth, but the voice of the one who is desired, characterized in the properties by the hearing, and not known and gladdened through the comprehension of the mind. If, therefore, C she who was raised to such a height, as we learn concerning the great Paul, who was caught up above the three heavens, is shown not yet to have accurately comprehended that which is contemplated, what is it likely we will experience, or in what state should we consider ourselves to be, who have not yet even approached the vestibule of the inner sanctuaries of contemplation? It is possible, however, from the things said by her, to see how difficult it is to contemplate what is sought. "The voice of my kinsman," she says, not a form, not a face, not a character D revealing the nature of that which is sought, but a voice, producing only a conjecture, or an assurance of the one speaking, as to who he is. For that what is said resembles a conjecture, and not some undoubted certainty of comprehension, is clear from the word not clinging to one thought, nor looking toward one form, but being carried to many visions, thinking it sees now this and now that, and not always remaining in the same character of that which has been grasped, is clear from the things said. For "Behold," she says, "he comes," not standing, nor remaining, so as to be known by one gazing steadily through long lingering, but snatching himself away from the eyes before coming to perfect knowledge: "For he is," she says, "leaping upon the mountains and skipping over the hills." And now indeed he is thought to be a wild goat, but again he is likened to a fawn. "For my kinsman," she says, "is like a wild goat or a young stag of the deer upon the mountain of Bethel." Thus that which is always being grasped is at one time one character, at another time another. These are the things which, according to the immediate sense, bring me to distress, producing hopelessness of an accurate comprehension of the things above. Nevertheless, one must attempt, having placed our hope in God, who gives the word to those bringing good news with much power, to adapt in some sequence the contemplation to the things understood by the intelligence. "The voice of my kinsman," she says. And she immediately added: "Behold, he comes." What then do we understand by these things? Perhaps the things said foresee the economy of the Word of God, which was revealed to us through the Gospel, which was foretold through the
A prophets, but made manifest through the appearance of the Lord in the flesh. For the divine voice is testified to by works, and the result is joined to the word of the promise, as the Prophet says: "As we have heard, so have we seen." The voice of my kinsman, he says, this is what we have heard. "Behold, he comes"; this we have received with our own eyes. "God, who at sundry times and in divers manners spoke in time past unto the fathers by the prophets"—this is the hearing of the voice—"hath in these last days spoken unto us by his Son." This is what is meant by the saying, "Behold, he comes leaping upon the mountains, and skipping over the hills," being likened appropriately and fittingly to a gazelle for a certain specific reason, and again to a young stag according to a different interpretation. The gazelle signifies the keen sight of Him who looks upon everything. B For they say that this animal, because it looks with extraordinary intensity, derives its name from that activity. Indeed, "to look" is the same as "to see." Therefore, He who surveys and oversees all things, from the very fact that He sees all things, is named the God of all. Since, then, God was manifested in the flesh, He who appeared in life for the destruction of opposing powers, for that reason He is likened to a gazelle, as One who has looked down from the heavens upon the earth; and to a young stag, as traversing the mountains and hills with leaps—that is, as One who tramples underfoot and destroys the wicked heights of the wickedness of the demons. For by "mountains" he refers to those who are troubled by His power, as David says, "Which are removed into the heart of the seas," and are submerged into the place of the abyss akin to them. Concerning these, the Lord said to His disciples: "If ye have faith as a grain of mustard seed, ye shall say unto this mountain" (signifying by the word that wicked and lunatic C demon), "Be thou removed and cast into the sea." Since, therefore, it is a property of the nature of young stags to be an object that consumes wild beasts, and to put to flight the race of serpents by their very breath and by the unique quality of their skin, for that reason He who oversees all things is likened to a gazelle, but to a young stag, [it is said,] as one who tramples and consumes the opposing operation, which the tropical signification has named mountains and hills.
The voice of the bridegroom, therefore, has come through the prophets in whom God spoke; and after the voice came the Word, leaping upon the opposing mountains and skipping over the hills, making every power that has revolted from Him equally subject to Himself—both that which is higher and that which is lower and lesser. For this is what the distinction between the hills and the mountains implies, that both that which is prominent among the adversaries and that which is D inferior are equally destroyed, and trampled upon by the same power and authority. For in like manner are trodden down the lion and the dragon, which are preeminent, and the serpent and the scorpion, which appear to be less significant. For instance, in the crowds that followed Him there were mountains—demons, or in the syna-
-Agogues, or in the country of the Gerasenes, or in many other places, that were erected and raised up against human nature. Among these are both hills and mountains, whether preeminent or inferior. But the fawn of the deer, which devours serpents, and who also perfects His disciples into the nature of deer, when He says, "I have given you authority to tread upon serpents and scorpions," plants his foot equally upon them all, both putting these to flight and leaping from them toward others, so that through these the greatness of those who are raised on high by virtue may be revealed, no longer obscured by the hills of vice.
For the mountains of Bethel, according to the interpretation of the name, seem to signify a high and heavenly life. For those who are learned in the Hebrew tongue say that this word signifies the house of God. He says, therefore, "Upon the mountains of Bethel." The purified and sharp-sighted eye of the soul, which leaps along with those divine bounds that are made against the opposing hills, perceived these things; and concerning time that is to be in the future, it speaks as if it were present, because the grace that is hoped for is certain and indubitable, viewing hope as a work already accomplished.
He says, indeed, that he who leaps against the mountains with noble speed, and springs from hills to hills, shows himself to be unmoved while remaining behind the wall and speaking from the latticework. B Now the text has it thus: "Behold, he stands behind our wall, looking through the windows, appearing through the lattices." And that which is described corporally by the discourse is of this kind: when the bride is guarding the house within, the lover converses through the windows, and since the wall in between keeps them both apart, the communication of speech takes place without any impediment, the head lowering itself through the windows, and the eye looking inward through the lattices that are in the windows.
The anagogical contemplation, however, follows the meaning previously examined. For the discourse, by way of sequence, renders human nature joined to God, first of all illuminating it through the prophets and the precepts of the law. For thus we understand the windows to be the prophets who introduce the light, and the lattices to be the connection of legal precepts, through both of which the splendor of the true light enters within. After these things, the perfect illumination of light occurs when the true light has appeared to those who sit in darkness and the shadow of death, through the tempering with our nature. Therefore, the rays of the prophetic and legal meanings, C shining first upon the soul through the windows and lattices that we have understood, inspire a desire to see the sun in the open air. Then in this way does that which is desired proceed to its effect.
Let us hear, then, what he who is not yet within the wall says to the Church, but stands and addresses her through the windows. For she answers, he says, "My kinsman, and he says to me:"
A "Arise, come, my neighbor, my beautiful one, my dove. For behold, the winter has passed, the rain is over and gone. The flowers have appeared on the earth, the time of pruning has arrived. The voice of the turtledove has been heard in our land. The fig tree has brought forth its early figs. Our vines have blossomed, they have given off their fragrance." How elegantly the Creator of spring describes for us the grace of spring, to whom David says, "Summer and spring, you have fashioned them." He dissolves the gloom of winter, saying that the wintery moroseness and the unpleasantness of the rains have passed away. He shows fields teeming and adorned with flowers. And he says the flowers are in their prime, and are suitable for pruning, just as if those who gather flowers were to remove them entirely for the weaving of a crown or the preparation of perfumes. The discourse makes the season pleasant, echoing with the singing of birds in the woods and the sweet voice of the turtledove sounding in the ears. And he mentions the fig tree and the vine, as the delight that is to come from them is prefigured in the things that appear: the one bringing forth its early figs, the other blooming with flowers, so that the sense of smell may abundantly perceive pleasure from their good fragrance. B Thus, then, the Word delights in describing the spring season, casting away sadness and dwelling willingly on pleasant narratives. But I believe we should not let our thought remain on these brilliant descriptions, but rather be led through them to the mysteries signified by these words, so that the treasure of understanding, which is hidden in the words, may be uncovered. What, then, is it that we say? The human race had once solidified in the frost of idolatry, with the changeable nature of men having been turned toward the worship of immobile things. "For those who make them," he says, "become like them, and all who trust in them." And it was natural that these things should happen this way. For just as those who behold true Divinity receive into themselves the properties of the divine nature, so too he who attended to the vanity of idols was transformed into that which was beheld, a man becoming stone. Since, therefore, the nature of man, having been petrified through the worship of idols, was immobile toward what is better, having been frozen in the frost of idolatry, for this reason the Sun of justice rises upon this harsh winter and makes it spring, with the meridian C wind melting this ice, and together with the rising of his rays, warming everything that is subject to it; so that the man who had been petrified by the cold, having been warmed by the spirit and cherished by the ray of the Word, might again become water leaping up into eternal life. "For he will blow with his spirit," he says, "and the waters will flow," the rock being turned into pools of water, and the crag into springs of water. This is what the Baptist more plainly shouted to the Jews, saying that stones were to be raised up so that they might become children of the patriarch Abraham, assimilated to him through virtue. This, therefore, the Church hears from the Word, receiving through prophetic windows D and legal lattices the splendor of truth: when the typical wall, the law, I say, stood as a doctrine which cast a shadow of the good things to come, but did not manifest them.
B It is the truth itself, however, which stands behind the type. First, through the prophets, it shone upon the Church, bringing the Word; but afterwards, by the manifestation of the Gospel, it consumed all the shadowy phantasm of the type, through which the dividing wall is indeed destroyed, and the air within the house is joined to the ethereal light, so that there is no longer a need for it to be illuminated through windows, since the true light itself illuminates all things that are within through the evangelical rays. For this reason the Word—the one who raises up those who have been cast down—calls out through the apertures to the Church: "Arise," that is to say, from the fall, O you who have slipped into the foul mire of sin, who were hindered by the serpent and fell to the ground, and came to be in the fall of disobedience, arise.
It does not suffice for you, He says, only to be raised from the fall, but also proceed through the progress of the virtues, running the course in virtue. This is what we have learned in the case of the paralytic. For the Word does not only cause him to take up the burden of that bed, but also commands him to walk. By the motion of one passing over, the Word seems to me to signify progress and increase in the good. "Arise," He says, "and come." O the power of the command and the authority! The voice of God is truly a voice of power, as the Psalm says: *Behold, he will give his voice, a voice of power* (Ps. LXVII, 24). And: *He spoke and they were made; He commanded and they were created* (Ps. XXXII, 9). Behold, now also He has said to her who was lying down, "Arise," and "Come," and the command immediately becomes an act. For as soon as she received the power of the Word, she stands up and is present, and draws near to the light, as has been testified by the one who called her, when the Word said: *Arise, come, my neighbor, my beautiful one, my dove* (Cant. II, 13). C What is this order of the discourse? How does one part cohere with the other? How is the consequence of the thoughts preserved in sequence, as in a chain? She hears the command; she is strengthened and fortified by the Word; she is stirred, she approaches, she draws near, she is rendered beautiful, she is named a dove. For how is it possible to see a beautiful appearance in a mirror, if it has not received the reflection of some beautiful form? Therefore, the mirror of human nature also did not become beautiful before it drew near to the Beautiful, and was fashioned with the image of divine beauty. For, just as it had the appearance of the serpent for as long as it lay on the ground and looked toward it, in the same way, once it stood up and placed the Good before its eyes, and turned its back upon vice, it is fashioned also according to that which it looks upon. Now it looks upon the primary and archetypal beauty; but the beauty is the dove. Therefore, when it has drawn near to the light, it becomes light. And in the light, the form of the dove was fashioned as if an image, of that one, I say D
the dove whose form made known the presence of the Holy Spirit.
Thus, therefore, having addressed her, and having named her beautiful because of her proximity, and a dove because of her beauty, the discourse proceeds to what follows, saying that the gloom of winter no longer holds sway over souls. For the cold does not withstand the ray. "Behold," he says, "the winter has passed, the rain has departed and gone its way." He gives many names to evil, being named according to the differences of its operations. For the same thing is winter, rain, and drops, and appropriately, the meaning of some temptation is signified according to the property of each of these names. For in winter, that which has flourished withers, and the beauty on the trees, which is naturally adorned by the leaves, falls from the branches and is mingled with the earth. The melody of the musical birds is silenced; the nightingale flees, the swallow becomes torpid, the turtle-dove is a stranger to its nest. All things imitate the gloom of death; the sprout is deadened, the herb dies. A And just as bones are separated from the flesh, so the branches, when stripped of their leaves, become a hideous sight, instead of the beauty that was present to them from the sprouts. But what should one say of the passions in the sea, which occur through the winter? How, stirred from the depths and swelling up, it imitates crags and mountains, with the water peaking into an upright shape? How it rushes like an enemy upon the land, casting itself beyond its own bounds, and shaking it with the repeated blows of its waves as if by the assaults of some siege engines? B But understand for me that the passions of winter are these, and translate all such things into a figurative meaning. What is that which withers and decays in winter? What is that which is dissolved into the earth from the branches? What is the voice of the melodious birds that is silenced? What is the sea that roars with its waters? What, furthermore, is the rain? What are the drops of rain? How does the rain go its way and depart? For by this, the enigma of such a winter signifies that which is animate and endowed with free will. C For perhaps, even if the discourse has not explained each point singly, the meaning that manifests itself in each of these is clear to the hearer: how human nature flourished at the beginning, as long as it was in paradise, watered by the water of that fountain and blooming, when the sprout of immortality was there instead of leaves, adorning nature; but when the winter of disobedience dried up the root, the flower was shaken off and dissolved into the earth, and man was stripped of the beauty of immortality, and the herb of the virtues was dried up, the love towards God having grown cold because of the abounding of iniquity, whence various passions were stirred up within us by adverse winds, through which the evil shipwrecks of the soul occur. But when He had come who produced the spring in our souls, who, when the evil wind had once stirred up the sea and [the winds]
A and rebuked the winds, says to the sea, "Peace, be still," then all things were restored to serenity and calm, and our nature begins to bloom again and is adorned with its own flowers. And the flowers of our life are the virtues, which bloom now, but provide their fruit at their own proper time. For this reason the text of Scripture says, "The winter is past, the rain is departed, it has gone away; the flowers have appeared on the earth, the time of pruning has arrived." Do you see, he says, the meadow blooming with virtues? Do you see temperance, this bright and sweet-smelling lily? Do you see modesty, the rose? The violet, the sweet fragrance of Christ? Why then do you not weave a crown from these? This is the time in which it is necessary to gather them and be adorned with such crowns. "The time of pruning has arrived." This is testified to you by the voice of the turtledove, that is, the voice of one crying in the desert. B For John is the turtledove. He is the forerunner of this glorious spring, who shows to men the beautiful flowers of virtue and offers them to those who wish to gather flowers—through which he pointed to the flower that comes from the root of Jesse, namely the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world, and suggested repentance from evils and a life lived according to virtue.
"For the voice of the turtledove," he says, "has been heard in our land." By "land" he perhaps designates those who are condemned in vice, whom the Gospel calls publicans and harlots, among whom the word of John was heard, while the others did not accept the preaching at all. But as for what is said regarding the fig tree, that "it has brought forth its green figs," let us understand it in this way by the Word: The fig tree is gifted by its heat with a C remarkable power of drawing moisture from the deep. Since much moisture consists in the pith, nature, through the digestion of the humors in the plant, necessarily expels useless and earthy moisture from the branches. And it often does this, so that it may bring forth what is pure and suitable for nourishment at the proper time, purged of useless quality. Therefore, what is produced by the fig tree before the sweet and perfect fruit, in the form of fruit, is called a green fig; which is indeed itself also edible at times to those who want it, yet it is not the fruit, but becomes the preface to the fruit. Whoever, therefore, has seen these things, entirely expects the fruit that will soon come. For the green figs, which he says the fig tree brought forth, are a sign of the edible figs. For since the Word depicts the spiritual spring for the bride—and this time is a boundary between two times, namely, that of wintry sadness and that of D the enjoyment of fruits which are gathered in summer—for this reason, it clearly announces that evils have indeed passed away; but it does not yet clearly show the perfect fruits of virtue. Rather, it hides and keeps these for the opportune time, when the summer has set in. You know, however, completely what is signified by the summer from the voice of the Lord, namely that "the harvest is the end of the age"; but now it shows the blooming hopes of the virtues, the fruit of which, as the Prophet says,
A appears in its own time. Since, therefore, human nature, appropriately compared to the fig tree mentioned here, has collected within itself an evil humor through that winter which we have understood, He who brings about the spring of the soul in us, and who cultivates the human condition with due husbandry, first of all expels from our nature whatever is earthy and useless—like branches—casting out such excrement through confession. Then, by introducing some semblance of the hoped-for blessedness through a more honorable way of life, He announces the future sweetness of the fruits, as if by certain unripe figs. And this is what is meant by the saying, "The fig tree has brought forth her green figs."
Understand also for me the vine that is blossoming, whose wine, which gladdens the heart of man, will one day fill the cup of wisdom; B and it will be set before the guests, so that from the sublime preaching they may be empowered to draw for themselves a good and sober drunkenness. I mean that drunkenness by which a transformation occurs for men from material things to that which is more divine.
Now the vine is blossoming with its flower, and a certain sweet-smelling, pleasant, and gentle vapor is given off by it, mixed with the surrounding spirit. You surely know the spirit that produces this good fragrance for those who are being saved, having learned it from Paul. These things the Word shows beforehand to the Bride, the signs of the soul's fair spring, and He hastens toward the enjoyment of the things set before her, stirring her up with the word: "Arise," He says, "come, my neighbor, my beautiful one, my dove." C How many dogmas the Word shows us in these few words! For it is not reasonable that the divinely inspired teaching would delight in lingering over the same words in some vain and superfluous speech. Rather, some great and God-befitting meaning is shown to us through this repetition.
What is said is of this kind: The blessed and eternal nature, which surpasses all intellect, holding all things that exist within itself, is encompassed by no boundary. For there is nothing observed regarding it—no time, no place, no color, no shape, no form, no bulk, D no size, no distance, nor any other name, thing, or concept pertaining to circumscription; but every good thing understood regarding it proceeds infinitely and without limit. For where evil has no place, there is no end to the good. For in a mutable nature, because there is an equal power and free will to choose an inclination and propensity toward both contraries, the good and the evil that are in us thus finish, so that they succeed one another; and the limit of the good is the oncoming vice, and all the pursuits and practices of our souls, which are set against one another as opposites, end in one another and are limited by one another. But the simple, pure, uniform, immutable, and unchangeable nature, being always the same and never departing from itself, because it is incapable of
A association with evil, remains in the good, not circumscribed, seeing no end to itself, because it sees nothing in itself that is contrary. When, therefore, it draws the human soul to participation in itself, it rises in an equal measure above the participant, in that which is directed towards what is better and more excellent. For the soul always becomes greater than itself through the participation of that which surpasses it, and, being increased, it does not stop; but the participated good remains likewise in the same state, being always found in an equal measure of superiority by the one who is always increasingly participating in it.
We see, therefore, as if in an ascent of stairs, the bride being led by the Word through the ascents of virtue. B The Word first sends a ray through the prophetic windows, or the lattices of the commandments of the law, and calls her to approach the light, and to become beautiful, formed like a dove in the light. Then, when she has participated in as many beautiful things as she was able to contain, again, as one who is not yet a participant of the goods, He draws her to participation in the supereminent good, so that that which always appears in proportion to her progress also draws her desire along with it, and because of the superabundance of the goods which are always considered in that which is supereminent, she seems to be touching the ascent for the first time. Therefore, to her who has been aroused, He says again, Rise, and when she has come, He says, Come. For neither will the one who truly rises ever lack the ability to always rise; nor, for the one who runs toward the Lord, will the ample and broad field for completing the divine race ever be consumed. For it is necessary always to rise and to be excited, and by running, to approach and never cease. Wherefore, as often as He says, Rise and Come, so C often He grants the power of ascending toward what is better. Understand in this way also what follows in the text. For He who commands the beautiful to become out of the beautiful [what is more beautiful], openly admonishes and suggests that Apostolic saying, commanding the same image to be transformed from glory into glory, so that what is received always appears to be glory, and what is always found, even if it is indeed something great and high, is believed to be less than what is hoped for. Being, therefore, a dove in what she had rightly accomplished before, He nevertheless commands her to become a dove again, through transformation into that which is better. And if this has been done, the discourse will subsequently point out by name that which is superior. D For He says: And come hither, my dove, in the shelter of the rock beside the bulwark. What, then, is the ascent to perfection that is indicated in the things now said? It is no longer to look at the pursuit of the things that attract, but to have one's own desire as a guide toward what is better. Come, He says to her, hither; not out of sorrow, or out of necessity, but [as] yourself, confirming your eagerness in the good by your own reasonings.
For virtue is without a master, and voluntary, and free from all necessity. Such was David, who prayed that only those things done by him which were voluntary might be acceptable and approved by God, and who promised to sacrifice willingly. Such is every one of the saints, offering himself to God, not led by necessity. Show yourself, therefore, to have received the perfect state of your ascent toward the better, [which is] to acquire desire. And having become such, she says, you will come to the covering of the rock, adjoining the rampart.
The saying is of this nature. For it is necessary to shift the discourse from enigmas to what is clearer. There is one covering for the human soul: the sublime Gospel, in which one who has become [imbued] with the shadowy instruction through its typical and symbolic meanings no longer requires [other things], as the truth reveals the hidden enigmas of the precepts. B That the evangelical [reality] is named a rock, no one among those who are in any way participants in the faith would gainsay; for it is possible to learn from many places in Scripture that the rock is the Gospel. The saying, therefore, is of this nature: If you have been exercised, O soul, in the Law, if you have perceived with your mind the splendors through the prophetic windows, do not remain any longer under the shadow of the legal wall. For the wall creates a shadow of the good things to come, not the image of the things themselves; but pass from the wall to the rock, which is near it. For the rock adjoins the rampart; since the Law became a rampart C for the evangelical faith, and the dogmas adjoin one another, neighbors in their power. For what is nearer to "Do not commit adultery" than "Do not covet"? And to keeping pure from murder, than "neither to defile the heart with anger"? Since, therefore, the covering of the rock is joined to the rampart, your passing from the wall to the rock is undisputed. There is circumcision in the wall, and circumcision in the rock; D a sheep and a sheep, blood and blood, passover and passover, and almost all the same things, and joined to one another through the same things, except insofar as the rock is spiritual, while the wall is earthly, with which the bodily clay is fashioned together. But the evangelical rock does not have the carnal mud of the doctrines. And man receives circumcision, and remains whole, with no mutilation damaging the creature of nature. He also keeps the Sabbath by cessation from evils, and does not admit rest from good things, having learned that it is lawful to do good on the Sabbath. He also makes an indiscriminate participation of food, and does not touch the unclean. For the rock teaches that nothing of those things that enter through the mouth is unclean; but, having entirely discarded the bodily observances of the Law, he transfers the meaning of the words to that which is incorporeal and falls under the intellect, as Paul says, that "the Law is spiritual." For whoever has truly cast out the Law is received under the covering of the evangelical rock, which is close to the bodily rampart.
A When the Word had thus called out to her through the windows, the dove, illuminated by the splendor of the perceptions and understanding the rock which is Christ, answers beautifully. For she says, "Show me your face, and let me hear your voice; for your voice is sweet, and your face is comely." And what she says is of this sort: "No longer speak to me through the medium of the prophetic and legal enigmas, but as I am able to see, so show yourself to me openly; that I may be within the evangelical rock, having left behind the rampart of the Law; and as my hearing can take it in, so grant that your voice may ring in my ears." For if the voice emitted through the windows is so sweet, your presence face to face will be much more lovable. B The bride says these things, having understood the mystery that is in the evangelical rock, to which the Word, who appeared in many ways and by many methods in the windows, has guided her. She has come to desire the manifestation of God in the flesh, so that the Word might become flesh, and God might appear in the flesh and present to our ears the divine voices that promise eternal blessedness to those who are worthy. And how do the voices of Simeon correspond to the prayer of the bride, who says: "Now dismiss your servant, O Lord, according to your word, in peace; for my eyes have seen your salvation." For he saw him, even as she desired to see. Moreover, those who have received the grace of the Gospel recognize his sweet voice, those who have said, "You have the words of eternal life."
C Therefore, the pure bridegroom receives the just vow of the bride; and as he is about to show himself openly, he first stirs up the hunters to hunt the foxes, so that the vineyard may no longer be hindered by them, so that it may flourish, saying: "Catch us the foxes, which are indeed small, but which destroy the vineyards." For the vineyards shall flourish if those things by which they are laid waste are taken away. "Catch us the little foxes that destroy the vineyards, and our vineyards shall blossom." Is it possible to attain to the dignity of the majesty of the sentiments and the miracle of divine magnitude which the speech contains, and to the excel- D lence of divine power which the meaning of what has been said signifies? I mean, how is it with him of whom these things are said: the homicide, who is powerful in malice, whose tongue is like a sharpened razor—of whom the Prophet says, "The arrows of the mighty are sharpened, with devastating coals," and, "He lies in wait like a lion in his lair"—that great dragon, the apostate, the underworld, who dilates his mouth, the ruler of this world's power of darkness, he who has the power of death, and whatever else the prophecy narrates of his person? He who removes the boundaries of the nations which the Most High established according to the number of his angels; he who comprehends the world as a nest, and takes it away as eggs that are abandoned; he who says he will place his throne above the clouds and become like the Most High, and whatever else Scripture pursues concerning him in Job,
the things that are A fearful and terrifying, whose sides are of bronze, whose spine is molten iron, and whose inwards are rock crystal; and all such things, through which the Word describes that fearful nature. Therefore, this one, so great and such a commander of the legions among the demons, how is he named by the true and only Power? "A little fox." And all those who are around him, or the host subject to him, all are equally despised and named "little foxes" by Him who incites the hunters to hunt them. And these may perhaps be the angelic powers, who escort the King of glory upon the earth at the time of the Lord’s manifestation, bringing him into the world and showing him to those who are ignorant: "Who is this King of glory? The strong and mighty in battle." B Perhaps someone might also say the ministering spirits, who are sent for service for the sake of those who are to inherit salvation. Perhaps, however, one might also say that the hunters are the holy apostles, who are sent to hunt these beasts, to whom He said, "I will make you fishers of men." For they would not have accomplished the fishing of men, enticing the souls of those being saved with the net of the Word, unless they had first driven these beasts from their dens—those little foxes, I mean, from the hearts in which they were lurking, so as to make a place for the Son of God, where He might lay His own head, with no kind of fox lurking in the hearts anymore. Nevertheless, whoever the Word may suggest the hunters to be, we are taught the greatness and ineffable nature of the divine power through what is commanded to them. For He did not say, "Hunt the wild boar that ravages the vineyard of God, or the solitary beast, or the roaring lion, or the great whale, or the deep-sea dragon." For the discourse would have indicated to the hunters some power of those who fight against us through such things. But all those, He says, those earthly powers, against which the struggle for men is—principalities and powers and world-rulers of darkness and spirits of wickedness—are small, crafty, and wretched foxes if they are compared to our strength. If you overcome those, you will receive your own grace. Our vineyard is human nature, C and it gives a preview of the fruit of the clusters through the blossom of a virtuous life. "Catch for us the little foxes that destroy the vineyard, and our vines will blossom." Did the vine hear the divine command? The vine is the woman, concerning whom David says, "Your wife is like a flourishing vine." And she saw herself, through the power of Him who commanded, cleansed from the ravages of these beasts, and she immediately gives herself to the husbandman who broke down the middle wall of the partition. For she is no longer blocked off by the wall of the Law from joining with the one who is desired. But, she says, "I am to my beloved, and my beloved is to me, who pastures among the lilies, until D the day [alt-version omitted]
...day, and the shadows be moved. This, he says, is: I have seen A face to face Him who always remains as He is, but who for my sake has arisen from my sister, the Synagogue, in human nature; and in Him I rest, and I become His dwelling place. For this is the good Shepherd, who does not make grass the food of His flock, but feeds His sheep with pure lilies. Truly, it is He who no longer nourishes grass with grass. For the proper nourishment of a nature devoid of reason is grass; but man, being rational, is nourished by the true Word. If, however, he should be filled with such things, he himself also becomes grass. For, it says, "All flesh is grass," as long as it is flesh. But if anyone should become spirit, having been born of the Spirit, he will no longer graze upon the life of grass, but the Spirit will be his food, which the purity and sweet fragrance of the lily signify. He himself, therefore, will also be a pure and sweet-smelling lily, transformed and changed by the nature of his food. This is the day that is spread abroad by rays, or that breathes through, as the divine Scripture has named it, calling the diffusion of the rays that occurs through the Spirit B a "breathing through," whence the shadows of life are moved away. Those who have not yet illuminated the eye of their soul with the light of truth look with diligence and care toward these shadows, viewing the shadow and that which is vain and empty as though it were something solid, and overlooking that which truly is as though it were not. But those who are fed by the lilies—that is to say, those whose souls are nourished by pure and sweet-smelling food—having withdrawn themselves from every deceptive and shadowy phantasy of the things that are sought after in this life, will see toward the true substance of things, becoming sons of light and sons of the day.
The bride sees these things, and she urges the Word to bring the hope of good things to fulfillment as quickly as possible, saying: "Return quickly, O my kinsman, be like a roe or a young hart upon the mountains of the clefts." See, O Roe, You who behold the thoughts of men, You who read the reasonings of hearts, C destroy the generation of sin, as the young hart destroys the race of serpents. Do you see the hollow mountains of human life, whose elevations are not summits, but chasms? Therefore, the Word runs with all speed to the hollow mountains. For whatever is exalted against the truth is a chasm, and not a mountain; a hollow, and not an elevation. If, therefore, You hasten toward these, the Scripture says, "Every valley shall be filled, and every such mountain shall be brought low." These things are uttered by the soul whom the Word pastures, not in any thorns or grass, but in the sweet fragrance of the lilies of a pure life. May it be granted to us also to be filled while being pastured by the Word, in Christ Jesus our Lord, to whom belongs glory and power with the Holy Spirit, now and always, and for ages of ages. Amen.
HOMILY VI
Cap. III, vers. 1. In my bed at night I sought him whom my soul loveth. I sought him, and I found him not; I called him, and he did not obey...
A me. 2. I will rise and go about in the city, in the markets and in the streets, and I will seek him whom my soul loveth. I sought him and I found him not; I called him, and he did not obey me. The watchmen who go about in the city found me. Have you seen him whom my soul loveth? 4. It was but a little that I passed from them, until I found him whom my soul loveth; I held him, and I did not let him go until I brought him into my mother's house and into the chamber of her who conceived me. 5. I adjure you, O daughters of Jerusalem, by the powers and B by the strengths of the field, if you should awaken and arouse love until it wishes. 6. Who is this that cometh up from the desert, as trunks of smoke, perfumed with myrrh and frankincense, from all the powders of the apothecary? 7. Behold the bed of Solomon: sixty mighty men are around it, of the mighty ones of Israel. 8. All holding a sword, skilled in war; every man has his sword upon his thigh because of the panic of the night.
Homily VI
Again, we are taught great and lofty doctrines by this present reading from the Song of Songs. For the narrative of the bride is a philosophy, by which she details the things concerning herself, setting forth how those who are lovers of supramundane beauty ought to conduct themselves toward the Divine. C Now, what we learn through the passages set before us is of this kind. For I think it is necessary first to set forth the meaning contained in the words, and then in this way to apply the divinely inspired utterances to what has been contemplated beforehand.
It is, therefore, to state it briefly, such a dogma that is revealed through what has been said: The nature of beings is divided in two according to the highest division. For one part is sensible and material, and the other is intelligible and immaterial. We call sensible, then, whatever we grasp by sensation; but intelligible is that which transcends sensible D apprehension. Of these, the intelligible is infinite and unbounded; the other is encompassed by certain limits of all things. For since every whole is distinguished by quantity and quality, its limit in mass, in form, in surface, and in shape becomes the comprehension concerning it—so that one who searches the whole can have nothing outside these in his imagination. But that which is intelligible and immaterial, being pure from such a region, escapes definition, being bounded by nothing at all.
Again, since the intelligible nature is also divided, one part is uncreated and the creative principle of all beings, ever being what it is, and always existing in the same way, superior to every addition and diminution, and not receptive of good things (since it is the source of all). The other, which has been brought into existence through creation, always looks toward the first cause of beings, and by participation in that which transcends it, is always preserved in the good, and in a certain manner is always being created, being changed through the increase in good things toward what is greater, so that not even in this is any limit perceived, nor is its growth toward the better circumscribed by any boundary; but it is always becoming the good that is present, even if it seems to be already very great and perfect, as the beginning of that which lies above and
is greater: A so that in this also the apostolic word is fulfilled, through the reaching out to the things which are before, with those which have already been accomplished being consigned to oblivion. For that which is always something greater, and is found in the surmounting of goods, keeping the affection of those who are participants in it to itself, does not allow them to look toward things that are past, as it shakes off the memory of things that are inferior in the enjoyment of those things which are more excellent. Such, then, we deem to be the meaning which is dogmatically established for us by the philosophy of the Sponsa’s narrative.
It is time, however, first to remember the context of the words of the divinely inspired oracles, and then to adapt to what has been previously considered the meaning which lies in the words. *In my bed by night I sought him whom my soul loved; I sought him, and I found him not; I called him, and he did not answer me. I will rise and will go about the city, in the markets and in the broad ways, and I will seek him whom my soul loved. I sought him, and I found him not. The watchmen who go about the city found me. Have you seen him whom my soul loved? It was a little that I had passed away from them, until I found him whom my soul loved; I held him, and I did not let him go, until I brought him into my mother’s house, and into the chamber of her that conceived me.* B
How, then, do we find in these things that have been said the meanings which have been dogmatically set forth by us through periphrasis? In the preceding ascents, according to the principle of the growth which is always taking place, she was always changed towards what is better, and never stopping at the good already attained, being now compared to horses that overthrew the Egyptian tyrant, and again likened to chains and turtledoves in the ornament of the neck. Then, not being content with these things, she proceeds yet higher. For through the sweet nard she recognizes the divine fragrance, and yet she does not remain even in this, but again, as a certain fragrant aroma, she suspends the one she desires between her breasts, which are gifted with reason, from whence flow the divine teachings, C clothing herself with him in the wide space of the heart. After this, she makes the Husbandman her own fruit, calling him a cluster of grapes, which emits a sweet and pleasant fragrance through the flower. And having thus grown through such ascents, she is called beautiful, and becomes near, and the beauty that is in her eyes is likened to doves. Then again she proceeds to that which is greater. For having become more perspicacious, she learns the grace of the Word; and she marvels at how he descends, shadowed, to the bed of the lower life, being hidden by the material nature of the human body. In addition to these things, she describes by the word the house of virtue, the material of which is read to be cedar and cypress, which does D not admit of decay and corruption, by which she explains in the word the stability and immutability of the disposition toward the good. Furthermore, through comparison
A her difference from what is better is shown, and she appears as a lily among thorns; and again in her, the distinction of the bridegroom from others is discerned. For he is named an apple tree among the barren woodland, adorned with the beautiful color of fruit, whose shadow she entering into the house becomes, and is supported by ointments, and is surrounded by the fruits of the apple tree, and having received the chosen arrow in her heart through the sweet wound, she herself again becomes an arrow in the hands of the archer, the left hand directing the head toward the upward mark, while the right hand brings the arrow toward itself. After these things, as one who has already arrived at the perfect, she relates to the rest her love for the one she desires, by means of a certain adjuration, stirring them up to love. Who then would not say that the soul which has been lifted up to such a height has reached the B highest limit of perfection? But yet, the end of the things that have already been accomplished becomes the beginning of the guidance toward things that are above. For all those things were considered only a sound of a voice, turning the soul through hearing toward the contemplation of mystical things, and she begins to see the one she desires, appearing to her eyes in another form. For she is likened to a fawn, and compared to a young deer; and what appears does not stand still, neither in our sight nor in the same place; but it leaps upon the mountains, bounding from the heights onto the projections of the hills. And again the bride is placed in a better state, when a second voice comes to her, by which she is urged to leave the shadow of the wall, and to be in the open air, and to rest under the shade of the rock C which is next to the rampart, and to enjoy the delights of the spring season, gathering the flowers of that time, which are beautiful and elegant and suitable for cutting, and whatever else the season grants for enjoyment to those who delight themselves in the voices of musical birds; through which the bride, again becoming more perfect, deems herself worthy to see his face clearly, and to receive the word from him, no longer speaking through others. Again, it is reasonable for the soul to be called blessed for these things, having attained the high ascent to the very peak of those things that are desired. For what greater thing could one conceive for blessedness than to see God? But this also is indeed the end of that D which has been accomplished, but it becomes the beginning of the hope of things that are supreme. For again she hears the voice, which commands the hunters, for the sake of the protection of the rational vineyards, to hunt the animals that harm the fruits, those little foxes; and this having been done, the two pass into each other. For both God comes to be in the soul, and again the soul migrates into God. For she says, "My kinsman is mine, and I am his," who feeds among the lilies, and who transfers human life from shadowy phantoms to the truth of the things that are. You see to what height the soul has ascended, which according to what the Prophet says*, walks from virtue to virtue, that she may be seen to have attained the summit of the hope of goods. For what is higher than to be in the one who is desired, or
* Ps. LXXXIII, 8.
A to receive within oneself the one who is desired? Yet, even when she has reached this state, she laments again, as though she were still in need of the Good; and since she does not yet possess the object of her desire, she is in anguish and is perplexed, and she brings this perplexity of her soul into the light through her narrative, describing in her account how she found what she was seeking.
We learn all these things through the contemplation of the words set before us in the context, by which we are clearly taught that the magnitude of the divine nature is not bounded by any limit, nor does any measure of knowledge become a final boundary for the understanding of those things which are sought—a limit at which one who pursues high things must necessarily halt in his forward progress; instead, B he who runs toward the intellect above through the understanding of transcendent things should so conduct himself that every perfection of knowledge that human nature can attain becomes the starting point of a desire for things still higher.
Observe also with care, for the sake of precision, the argument set before us for contemplation, having first perceived this: that the bridal chamber is the bodily description of the Word, and the nuptial preparation provides material for contemplation. Philosophy—transferring the significations of concepts and mental conceptions to what is pure and immaterial—advances the doctrines through the events that take place in them, employing the things that happen as enigmas to clarify the things signified. Since, therefore, the Scripture has posited the soul as the bride, and God—who is loved by the soul with all her heart, soul, and strength—is called the bridegroom, the soul, having consequently arrived at what she thought was the summit of things hoped for, and C believing herself already to be tempered with the one who is desired, calls her most perfect participation in the Good a "bed," and calls the time of darkness "night." By the name of "night," she indicates the contemplation of things that do not fall under sight, in imitation of Moses, who was in the thick darkness in which God was, who, as the Prophet says, "made darkness his hiding place round about him."
Having reached this, she is then taught that she is as far from having attained perfection as those who have not even attempted the beginning. For, she says, "Already, as though deemed worthy of perfect things, and resting as if upon a bed of the comprehension of things known—when I was within things that do not fall under sight, having abandoned the senses, when I was encompassed by the divine night, seeking him who was hidden D in the thick darkness—at that time I indeed had love for the one who was desired; but the very thing that was loved flew away so that my thoughts could not grasp it. For I sought him upon my bed by night, that I might know what his essence is, whence it begins, in what it ends, and in what it has its being. But I did not find him; I called him by name, as far as it was possible for me to find him by the name of the One who is unnameable. But there was no expression of a name that could reach the One who was sought. For how could the
One who is above every name be expressed by the calling of a name? For this reason she says, "I called him, and he did not hear me." Then I knew that of his magnificence, of his glory, and of his holiness there is no end. A For this reason she rises again and traverses with her mind the intelligible and supramundane nature, which she calls a city, in which are the authorities and dominions, and the thrones subordinate to the powers; and the assembly of the heavenly ones, which she calls a forum, and the multitude incomprehensible in number, which she signifies by the name of street, to see if the One who is loved might be found among them. She, therefore, went about, searching the whole angelic decoration, and when she did not see in the good things discovered the One who was sought, she reasoned thus to herself: "Is the One who is loved by me to be apprehended in these?" And she says to them: "Have you seen the One whom my soul has loved?" B But upon their remaining silent at such a question, and through their silence indicating that to them also the One sought by her is incomprehensible, since she had traversed with the meticulousness of her mind that entire supramundane city and did not know Him whom she had sought even among the intelligible and incorporeal things—then, having left behind everything that is found, she thus recognized the One who was sought: in the very fact that he is not grasped as to what he is, he is known, whereas every sign which is apprehensible becomes an obstacle to those who are searching for his discovery. For this reason she says: "A little when I had passed on from them," having left behind every creature, and having passed beyond everything that is understood in the creature, and having left behind every apprehensive approach, by faith I found the One who is loved; C and I will no longer let him go, holding fast to the One who has been found by the grip of faith, until he is within my chamber. The heart is surely the chamber, which then becomes receptive of his divine indwelling when it returns to that condition in which it was at the beginning, when it was formed by the one who conceived it. And one will not go astray if he understands the mother to be the first cause of our constitution.
It would be time again to set forth the divine words themselves, so that the expressions may be applied to what has been contemplated: "On my bed at night I sought the One whom my soul loved. I sought him, and I did not find him; I called him, and he did not hear me. I will arise and go about in the city, in the forums and in the streets, and I will seek the One whom my soul loved. I sought him, and I did not find him. They found me, those who keep and go about in the city. D Have you seen the One whom my soul loved? As a little when I had passed on from them, until I found the One whom my soul loved. I held him, and I did not let him go, until I brought him into the house of my mother, and into the chamber of the one who conceived me." After this, again out of benevolence, she speaks to the daughters of Jerusalem, whom previously, in comparison to the beauty of the bride, whom she had likened to a lily, she had called thorns, and through the adjuration of the powers that are in the world, she causes them to rise to a similar measure of charity, so that the will of the bridegroom may be strong in them also.
A It has been said in what preceded, what the world is in which the strengths and powers are, and what the will is of him who is loved with the whole heart and soul, so that there is no need again to repeat the argument through them, as the understanding of the matter which was considered beforehand in these words sufficiently explains what is to be understood in this place.
But let us proceed to what follows, so that we may see if it is possible for us also to ascend along with the perfect dove as she flies on high, and to hear the voice of the friends of the bridegroom, who marvel at her ascent from the desert. This, indeed, above all else, fills the spectators with amazement, in that the desert produces such an effect, such that it mimics the beauty of trees which, in the desert, are nurtured by the vapors of incense. Now the incense was myrrh and frankincense. B But together with the vapor coming forth from these, a certain dust was stirred up and ascended from the crushed aromatics. Thus, in place of the dust that is mixed with the air, there was a subtle diffusion of aromatics, by the force of which the dust arose straight and lofty.
Moreover, the text stands as follows: *Who is this that ascendeth from the desert as the trunks of smoke, perfumed with myrrh and frankincense, from all the powders of the perfumer?* If anyone directs his mind diligently to what has been said, he will discover the truth of the doctrine which we understood before. For just as in the theatrical processions, although they are the same persons who exhibit the story set before them, yet one is thought to appear different from another—those who by the variety of their masks change their appearance, C and who now appears as a slave or a private man, a little later is seen as a champion or a soldier, and again, laying aside the habit of a subject, assumes the person and garb of an emperor, or puts on the appearance of a king: so also in the progresses of virtue, they do not always retain the same character who are transformed from glory to glory, but in proportion to the perfection of the good things with which each one shows himself to be endowed, a certain peculiar character of life shines forth—one becoming another, following the increase of good things.
Wherefore, the friends of the bridegroom seem to me to marvel at what appears as a new thing, they who formerly knew her to be beautiful, but beautiful as one among women; afterwards, however, they adorned her beauty with gold and with the marks of silver. D But now, seeing none of the previous signs about her, but distinguishing her by more sublime marks, they wonder not only at the ascent, but also from whence she arose. For this is what contributes to the greater amazement: she who is ascending is seen as one, and the appearance is compared to a grove of tall trees; for they are thought to be trunks rising aloft and growing. But that which nourishes these trunks is not some fat and well-watered soil, but a squalid, arid, and desert one. In what, then, are these trunks rooted, and whence do they increase? Their root, to be sure, is the dust of the aromatics. And the irrigation is the vapor from the incense, bedewing this grove through the sweet odor, how great the praise it has.
A For the fact that they ask one another about her who has appeared, as in a form that is shown to be different and not the one she had before, is most perfect praise of her progress in virtue, testifying to her great difference and transformation into what is better. For the voice is that of those who are astonished and struck with wonder that her form should flourish beyond what is customary. “How,” they say, “has she who comes up from the desert, who previously appeared to us black, washed off that dark form? How does her snowy beauty shine forth?” Is the desert, as it seems, the cause of these things, having made her stature shoot up like a sprout and changing her into such beauty? For this ascent to such a height did not happen by any chance occurrence, nor by some indiscriminate lot, but she acquired this beauty from her own labors through self-control B and diligence. Thus also, at one time, the prophet’s soul became thirsty for the divine fountain, since his flesh had become a desert, impassable and waterless, and received within itself the divine thirst. Her coming up from the desert, therefore, contains testimony that she has ascended to such and so great a height through attentiveness and self-control, so much so that it becomes a wonder even to the friends of the bridegroom, who explain her beauty through many examples, since it was not possible for it to be comprehended by one. For first they liken her appearance to trunks or sprouts, and the comparison of those wonders that are in her is not brought to one alone but to a multitude of trees, so that the diverse and varied nature of the virtues might be indicated by the description of the grove. Then smoke from incense is taken up for the image of her beauty; and this is not simple either, but a mixture of myrrh and frankincense, so that from both there might be one grace of the vapors, C through which the bride’s beauty is portrayed. The mixture of these aromatics becomes another praise of hers. Myrrh is suited for the burial of bodies; frankincense, on the other hand, is in some way consecrated to the honor of God. He, therefore, who intends to dedicate himself to the service of God will not be frankincense offered to God unless he first becomes myrrh, that is, unless he has mortified his members that are upon the earth, having been buried with Him who took upon Himself death for our sake, and having accepted in his own flesh, through the mortification of his members, that myrrh which was taken up for the burial of the Lord. When these things have come to pass, every kind of aromatic virtue, within the circle of life—as if crushed into fine D parts in a mortar—produces that sweet dust, which, when one has taken it in the breath, makes him sweet-smelling, becoming full of the scented spirit. After the testimony regarding her beauty, the friends of the bridegroom, both they who prepare the undefiled bridal chamber and they who are the groomsmen of the pure bride, point out to her the beauty of the royal bed, so that they might lead the bride to a greater desire for the divine and immaculate life of association with Him.
A Now, this description of the king’s bed is that which they bring before her eyes in their demonstrative speech, saying: *Behold the bed of Solomon; threescore valiant men are about it, of the valiant of Israel. They all hold swords, being expert in war: every man hath his sword upon his thigh because of fear in the night.* That the discourse concerning this bed does not pertain to history is clear to everyone from the things historically and corporally recorded concerning Solomon. The Book of Kings has described with the utmost care and accuracy his royal table, and the rest of the preparation in his kingdom, and the manner of his whole life; yet it said nothing new or exceptional about his bed. Therefore, it is altogether necessary that the interpretation should not remain in the letter, but that we should grasp a more accurate understanding by withdrawing the mind from the material meaning to the spiritual contemplation of the Word. B For what, indeed, could be the adornment of a bridal bed, composed of sixty armed men who have learned the terrible things of war? And what is this adornment? A sword with which the body is girded? And what, indeed, is the "fear in the night" that is around them? By terms of "fear," the discourse indicates the terrible alarm that arises from certain nocturnal terrors, which it says happens to these armed men. Therefore, in every way, a meaning consistent with what was considered before must be sought for these words. What, then, is the meaning? It is consistent to show that the divine beauty possesses something lovable in C its terribleness, being demonstrated from things contrary to bodily beauty. For the latter attracts to desire that which is pleasant to the sight, which is alluring, and separated from all terrible and wrathful affection of the soul. But that beauty into which decay cannot fall is the terrible virtue of a great and lofty soul, which cannot be disturbed or affected by fear. For since the sordid desire of the body, subject to the movements of the soul, sits in the members of the flesh like a band of brigands and lies in wait for the mind, often taking it captive and snatching it away to its own will—a thing which becomes hostile to God, as the Apostle says, *that the carnal mind is enmity against God* D — therefore, it is consequent that divine love should be born from things contrary to corporal desire. Thus, if the leader of the latter is dissolution, remissness, and a soft and enervated diffusion, then there a vehement and imperturbable greatness of mind is the matter for divine love. For when strong and manly wrath has terrified and put to flight the bands of lascivious pleasure that lie in wait, then the pure beauty of the soul appears, unstained by any movement of corporal desire. Necessarily, therefore, the bridal bed of the King is surrounded by armed men, whose skill in war, and the fact that they have their sword ready on their thigh, brings terror and alarm to darkened thoughts, and to those who lie in wait in the dark and shoot with arrows at the upright in heart.
A For that the arming of those who encompass the bed is destructive of foul pleasures, would be manifest through the description of the Word, which says: *All are expert in war, each man with his sword upon his thigh*. For it is truly for those who know how one ought to war against flesh and blood, to have the sword fitted upon the thigh. But he who is not inexperienced in the thoughts and riddles of the Scriptures, understands by all means, from the mention of the thigh, what is signified, and that the word is a sword. He, therefore, who is girded with the terrible weapon, I mean the sword of temperance, he is the one who is lovely to the incorruptible bed, one of the mighty ones of Israel, and worthy of the catalog of sixty. B That this number has some mystical reason, we do not doubt; but it is manifest to those only to whom the grace of the Spirit reveals hidden mysteries. We, however, deem it right that, having been satisfied with the readily available meanings of the Word—just as Moses commands concerning the Passover, eating of the flesh that appears—we should leave uninvestigated that which is hidden in the bones of obscurity. But if anyone is a desirer of the hidden marrow of the Word, let him seek it from Him who reveals hidden things to the worthy. Yet, lest we should seem to pass over what is said unexamined, and to neglect the divine commandment which orders us to search the divine Scriptures, let us consider the word concerning the sixty in this way. C Twelve rods, according to the number of the tribes of Israel, are taken by command of God at the hand of Moses, but one was preferred above all, having alone blossomed beyond the others. Again, by Joshua the son of Nun, stones equal in number to the tribes of Israel are taken from the Jordan, of which not one is cast away, all having been taken with equal honor for a testimony of the mystery which took place in the Jordan.
And there is much consistency in the things recounted. For the Word indicates a certain progress of the people toward that which is more perfect; in that at the beginning of the lawgiving, one rod was found living and blossoming, while the others, as being dry and fruitless, were cast away. But as more time passed, and the legal precepts were brought to a more exact understanding for them, so that they might also understand and receive the second circumcision brought upon them by Joshua—the stone knife removing from them all that was unclean (the intelligent hearer understands by all means the significance of the rock and the knife)—it was consistent that, after the confirmation of that life which is lived according to both Law and virtue, none of the stones taken in the name of the Israelite tribes was found to be rejected. D Since, however, it is necessary to always seek the increments of good things, when time has progressed and the power of Israel has become greater. For thus the Word says in the passages set before us, that from Israel, then, no longer is one stone or one rod taken from a tribe; but five
A valiant men, trained for war from the mighty men of Israel, carrying swords, surround the divine bed. Therefore no one is cast out, because from every tribe the first fruits become five, the number of which, being multiplied twelve times, makes the fullness of sixty. It is necessary, therefore, that five terrible armed soldiers from each tribe should be guards of the king’s bed, so that if the number five should be lacking, that which remains is by no means to be admitted.
But is there anything now that may be dared in this undertaking, so that we might say B how those five from each tribe are armed so that they become guards of the royal bed? And how each of these five becomes terrible to those drawn up against him, by the arming of his sword placed upon his thigh? Is it not manifest that the one stone—namely, these five armed men—is each sense, drawing its own appropriate sword for the terror of the enemy? The sword of the eye is to gaze perpetually at the Lord, and to look at things that are right, and to be defiled by no impure spectacle. The weapon of hearing is likewise the listening to divine teachings, and never to admit into itself a vain word. Thus it is also possible to arm the taste, and the touch, and the smell with the sword of temperance, shielding each of the senses conveniently, through which there comes a stupor and terror to the dark thoughts, the fitting time for which to weave snares against souls is night and darkness. For in this, the Prophet said, the beasts of the field provide themselves with evil food from the flocks of God. For you have set darkness, he says, and it became night. In it all the beasts of the forest will pass by, the young lions roaring to snatch C their prey. Since, therefore, Israel is everyone who is being saved—for not all who are of Israel are Israelites; but those who behold God are, by this activity, properly called by this name. It is, moreover, proper for one who sees God to look at no sin with any sense. For no one can look toward two masters; but the one must be hated if the other is to be loved. For this reason one bed of the king becomes all that is saved. For if all who are pure in heart will see God; and those who have seen God become and are properly called Israel; and this name is divided into twelve tribes in a certain mysterious way, the fullness of those who are saved is rightly summed up by the number of sixty; with one being taken from each part, and this one being divided into five armed men according to the number of the senses.
All, therefore, who are clothed in the divine armor D surround the one bed of the king, all becoming one Israel; and while by the twelve tribes is understood that which is everywhere the excellence of those who conduct themselves bravely, it is summed up in the number sixty.
A A commonwealth, reduced to the fullness of a body of valiant men, becomes one battle line, and one army, and one bed—that is to say, one Church, and one people, and one bride—since all shall be joined together under one commander, and herald, and bridegroom, compacted and fitted into the fellowship of one body. That the bed, moreover, signifies the rest of those who are saved, we are taught also by the voice of the Lord, saying to him who was knocking at the door by night: "The door is now shut, and my children are with me in the bed." B Rightly does the Word call those "children" who have achieved impassibility through the weapons of righteousness, by this explaining to us that the good which accrues to us through industry and diligence is nothing other than that which was deposited in our nature from the beginning. For when one, having girded on the sword by being attentive to a life of virtue, has cast off passion, he is then an infant in age, having no perception of such passion. For immature age does not admit of passion. Therefore, it is the same thing to learn that there are armed men around the bed, and infants resting upon the bed. For impassibility is one and the same for both: for those who have not received passion, and for those who have cast it off. For the one sort have not yet known it; the others, having turned back, have brought themselves to their original state and, having become children through impassibility, C are blessed—whether one is found to be an infant, or an armed man, or a true Israelite. As an Israelite, seeing God with a pure heart; as an armed man, guarding the king’s bed, that is, his own heart, in impassibility and purity; as an infant, resting upon the blessed bed, in Christ Jesus our Lord, to whom be glory for ever and ever. Amen.
HOMILY VII
D CAP. III, v. 9. A litter did King Solomon make for himself of the woods of Lebanon; 10. pillars thereof he made of silver, and his reclining-place of gold, his base purple. Within it is a stone-paved floor, a work of love from the daughters of Jerusalem. 11. Go forth, daughters of Sion, and see King Solomon in the crown with which his mother crowned him in the day of his espousals, and in the day of the gladness of his heart.
CAP. IV, v. 1. Behold, you are fair, my neighbor, behold you are fair. Your eyes are doves, apart from your silence. Your hair is as the flocks of goats which have been revealed from Mount Galaad. 2. Your teeth are as the flocks of shorn sheep that have come up from the washing, all bearing twins, and there is not a barren one among them. 3. As a scarlet thread are your lips, and your speech is beautiful. As the rind of a pomegranate is your cheek, apart from your silence. 4. As the tower of David is your neck, which is built in Thalpioth. A thousand shields hang upon it, all the darts of the mighty. 5. Your two breasts are as two twin fawns of a gazelle, which feed among the lilies. 6. Until the day shall breathe, and the shadows shall be moved, I will go to the mountain of myrrh and to the hill of incense. 7. You are all fair, my neighbor, and there is no blemish in you.
A In many respects King Solomon is taken as a type of the true King; in many, I say, of the things recorded of him by the Holy Scripture, which are related to that which is better. For he is called peaceful, and possesses immeasurable wisdom; and he builds a temple, and reigns over Israel, and judges the people in justice; and he is of the seed of David. But the queen of the Ethiopians also comes to him. For all these things, and whatever is of this kind, are indeed spoken concerning him typically, but they describe the power of the Gospel. For who is so peaceful as He who slew enmity, and fastened His enemies to the cross, and reconciled to Himself us, or rather the whole world, and broke down the middle wall of partition, that He might create in Himself the two into one new man, making peace, and who preached peace to those far off and to those near, through those who announce good things? And who is such a builder of a temple as He who lays its foundations on the holy mountains, that is, on the prophets and apostles; building, as the Apostle says, upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets, B by means of living and animate stones, which of themselves and spontaneously roll themselves into the compaction and connection of the walls, according to what the Prophet says, so that being connected and compacted in the power of faith and the bond of peace, they grow of themselves into a holy temple, to become a habitation of God in the Spirit? That Solomon, by his own wisdom, signifies the true wisdom, no one who looks to history and truth would gainsay. For history testifies that he exceeded the limits of human wisdom, in that he received the knowledge of all things in the breadth of his heart, so that he surpassed those who went before, and those who followed were unable to reach him; but the Lord is by His own nature, that very thing which He is, the essence of truth, wisdom, power, and virtue. Therefore, when David had said: "You have made all things in wisdom," C the divine Apostle, interpreting the Prophet, says that in Him all things were created, inasmuch as the Prophet signifies Him through wisdom. That the Lord is the King of Israel is testified even by His enemies, who subscribed the confession of His kingdom upon the cross: "This is the King of the Jews." For we accept the testimony, even if it is thought to detract from the greatness of His power by limiting His dominion to the kingdom of the Israelites. For it is not so; but the inscription on the cross attributes the rule over all from a part, in that it did not add that He is only the King of the Jews. For when the statement absolutely attributed to Him, by their own testimony, the empire of the Jews, it also tacitly included in that expression the empire over all. For the King of the whole earth holds dominion also over a part; moreover, Solomon’s zeal in true judgment D signifies the true judge of the whole world.
who says: A *The Father judges no one, but has given all judgment to the Son*; and, *I can do nothing of my own self; but as I hear, I judge: and my judgment is just.* For this is the most exact definition of a righteous judgment: not to give an answer to those contending at law out of some personal feeling of one's own, but first to hear those who are undergoing judgment, and then to pass sentence upon them. For this reason the power of God confesses that it can do nothing. For Truth cannot pervert judgment outside of what is just. But we shall pass over with a lengthy discourse the fact that the Lord is from the seed of David according to the flesh, and that this was foretold by Him who was born of David, as it is a matter agreed upon by the Word. B But as for the mystery concerning the Ethiopian woman, how, having left the kingdom of the Ethiopians and having crossed such a great distance in between, she hastens to Solomon on account of the fame of his wisdom, honoring the king with precious stones, gold, and fragrant spices—it will be manifest to one who applies his mind to which of the Gospel miracles this looks. For who does not know that the Church, which was from the beginning from the Gentiles, was black because of idol worship, before it became the Church, and was estranged from the knowledge of the true God by a long interval of ignorance? But when the grace of God appeared, and wisdom shone forth, and the true light cast its ray toward those C sitting in darkness and the shadow of death, then, while Israel closed its eyes to the light and withdrew itself from the participation of good things, the Ethiopians come—those from the Gentiles who approach through faith, and those who were once far off now become near, having washed away their blackness with the mystical water; so that Ethiopia has reached out its hands to God, because it has offered gifts to the King: the aromatics of piety, the gold of the knowledge of God, and the precious stones of the performance of the commandments and virtues.
But towards what I am looking as I begin from this point the contemplation of the words set before us, I shall now declare, having first set forth the text of the divine oracles, which reads as follows: *King Solomon made himself a carriage of the woods of Lebanon, he made its pillars of silver, and its reclinatory of gold, its ascent purple, and its interior paved with love, by the daughters of Jerusalem.* As, therefore, in the things previously examined concerning Solomon, the Word found through which the mystery of the temple is described in that person, D so also through the construction of the carriage is the dispensation concerning us signified. For in many ways God is in those who are worthy of Him, as each one possesses capacity and worth, thus He comes to be in each one. For one becomes a place of God, another a house, another a throne, and another a footstool. There is also one who becomes a chariot, or a well-broken horse, receiving upon himself its good rider, and as it seems fit to Him who directs, it completes its course.
A And as we are now instructed, one becomes His chariot, who, according to His wisdom, is constructed not only of the woods of Lebanon, but is also fittingly adorned in every part with gold and silver and purple and precious stones, through which His love becomes active, since not all are capable of receiving the operation of love, but only if one is known by his life to be a daughter of the Jerusalem above, which is free. That he who bears God within himself is a chariot for Him who sits and rests within him, would be manifest even before our words. For he who, according to the holy Paul, no longer lives himself, but has Christ living within him, and gives proof of Christ B speaking in him, he truly is called and becomes a chariot for Him who is carried and borne by him. But this is not what is being sought. That which one ought rather to consider with diligence is what the varied and manifold nature of the material signifies.
How, then, besides gold, silver, purple, and gems, is the nature of wood taken up for the construction of the chariot? And yet the wise architect Paul deems wood, along with hay and stubble, to be rejected for the building of the house, as something consumed by the power of the fire that tests the work. But we know that there is a certain nature of wood that does not remain in what it is, but transforms itself into gold, or silver, or some other precious thing. C For in the great house of God, the Apostle says, there are vessels of gold and silver by nature, perhaps tacitly signifying by these the incorporeal and intelligent creature; but perhaps by these wooden and earthen ones, he indicates us, whom disobedience made earthly and pottery. And sin, committed through wood, made us wooden vessels instead of golden ones. According to the dignity of the material, the use of the vessels is also divided. For those which are of a more precious material are ordered and appointed for honor; others, however, are cast aside for base and ignominious service. But what does Paul say concerning such things? That it is in the power of the vessel by its own D deliberate choice to become either a golden one from a wooden one, or a silver one from an earthen one. For if anyone, he says, cleanses himself, he shall be a vessel for the Lord unto honor, prepared for every good work. Perhaps, therefore, through the things that have been said, we are being led somehow to the contemplated subject of what has been read. The mountain of Lebanon is mentioned in many places of the holy Scripture to indicate the opposing power; as when he says through the Prophet: "The Lord will crush the cedars of Lebanon, and will grind them and Lebanon itself like that calf," which, indeed, was ground by Moses in the desert and, on account of its fineness, became drinkable for the Israelites. For it is signified through the prophecy that not only are the evils that have arisen from the opposing power, but also the mountain itself, the first root of evil, Lebanon, which secretly nourishes a forest of such trees, to be reduced to nothing. For we were indeed once wood
of Lebanon, as long as we were rooted in it, through both a wicked life and the deceit of idols; but since we have been cut down from thence by the rational axe, and have come into the hands of the Artificer, He has made us His own palanquin, having transformed the nature of the wood through regeneration into silver and gold, and into flowering purple, and into the radiance of stones. And as the Apostle says, "God has distributed to each one the gifts of the Holy Spirit appropriately; and to one He gives prophecy according to the proportion of faith; to another, some other operation, according as each is naturally fitted and able to receive the grace, whether by becoming the eye of the body of the Church, or by being assigned the place of the hand, or by supporting and stabilizing in the place of the foot." So also in the construction of the palanquin, one part is a pillar, another is the ascent; another is that part at the head, which he called the headrest; and there are some that are arranged on the inside. A The Artificer does not design these diverse materials for the sake of adornment in a uniform way, but everything is adorned with beauty, and a different and suitable elegance and decor is devised for each of them. Therefore, the pillars of the palanquin are of silver, but their ascents are of purple; and the headrest, which supports the head, upon which the Bridegroom reclines His own head, is of gold; and everything inside is adorned with precious stones. Therefore, we must understand the pillars to be the pillars of the Church, for whom the word is precisely pure and refined silver. The purple, however, are those who have ascended to the highest rank of the royal state. For purple is considered the preeminent sign of royalty. The sovereign faculty, in which He who constructed the palanquin reclines His head, is the gold of pure doctrines. And whatever is hidden and secret is decorated by the pure conscience of precious stones, through which, in all of them—from the daughters of Jerusalem—charity is established. B If, however, one wishes to call the whole Church the palanquin, and divides the parts of the palanquin into certain persons according to the differences of their operations, as has been said about this previously, the argument has great ease even in this, to adapt the parts of the palanquin to each order of those who are in the Church; just as the Apostle says, "God set in the Church, first apostles, second prophets, third teachers, then all things one by one for the perfecting of the saints." So that through the names of those who contribute to the construction of the palanquin, we may understand priests and teachers, and represent the venerable virginity as shining within the palanquin by the purity of the virtues, as if by certain rays of precious stones. C But enough has been said about these things. The passage that follows contains an exhortation to the daughters of Jerusalem, made by the bride. For just as the great Paul considered it a loss if he did not bring all to the sharing of his own good things, so such things as these were spoken to those who heard: "Be as I am, because..."
shares his own good things, and for that reason he used these words to those who hear: "I would that you were such as I am, since I myself was once as you are." Also: "I would that you become imitators of me, as I am of Christ." A Thus also this most benevolent bride, having been made a participant in the divine mysteries of the Bridegroom, after she beheld the couch and became the litter of the King, cries out to the young women—these, perhaps, would be the souls of those being saved—saying: "How long will you remain hidden within the cave of life? Come forth from the veils of nature, and become daughters of Zion, and behold the wonderful spectacle. Look upon the very seemly crown on the King’s head, which His mother placed upon Him, as that prophet says: 'You set upon His head a crown of precious stone.'" B Assuredly, no one who has investigated the reasoning concerning God with discernment will quibble about the force of the word because "mother" is mentioned instead of "Father," as he takes one and the same meaning from either word. For since there is neither male nor female sex in the divine nature—for how could such a thing be conceived in the Godhead, when even among us humans this does not remain forever, since at that time, when we shall all become one in Christ, we shall divest ourselves of the signs of this difference along with the whole old man?—for this reason, any word used for the indication of that ineffable nature has equal force; it does not defile the signification of that most pure nature with the word "male" or "female." For this reason, in the Gospel a father is said to hold a wedding for his son, but the Prophet says to God: "You set C upon His head a crown of precious stone," while here it is said that the crown is placed on the Bridegroom by the mother. Since, therefore, there is one wedding and one bride, and the crown is placed on the Bridegroom by one, it makes no difference at all whether one calls the Only-begotten God the Son of God, or the Son of His love, according to the word of Paul, seeing that the same power indicated by either name adorns Him as the Bridegroom for our cohabitation. "Come forth, therefore," says the bride to the young women, "and become daughters of Zion, so that from a high watchtower (for this is what Zion is interpreted to mean) you may be able to see the wonderful spectacle of the Bridegroom wearing a crown." The Church becomes His crown, encompassing His head round about with living and ensouled stones. The one who weaves such a crown is Love, whom, whether one calls her mother or Love, one will not be mistaken; for God is love, according to the word of John. The bride says that He takes pleasure in this crown, rejoicing in that D nuptial adornment. For He truly rejoices, He who has made the Church His own consort, being crowned with the virtues of those who are preeminent in her. It would, however, perhaps be better to set forth these very divine words as they are written: "Come forth and see, O daughters of Zion, King Solomon in the crown with which His mother crowned Him in the day of His wedding, and
in the day of the gladness of His heart. A The Word, therefore, welcoming such benevolence from the Bride—that in imitation of the Master she herself also desires all to be saved and to come to the knowledge of the truth—makes her more venerable, becoming both the herald and the painter of her beauty. For it is not simply that the praise of her beauty is spoken, containing a general commendation of her comeliness; but He dwells in the discourse upon the individual members, granting to each one a unique encomium through comparison and likeness.
He speaks thus: "Behold, you are fair, my neighbor; behold, you are fair." For she who has imitated the benevolent will of the Master, and has commanded the maidens to go forth—following the example of Abraham, each from her own land and from the kinship she has regarding the organs of sense—so that they might see that pure Bridegroom crowning the Church, truly becomes a neighbor to the Master’s goodness, having drawn near to God through the love of her neighbor. "You are fair, therefore," says the Word to her, "having drawn near to the Good by a fair intention." And the repetition of the praise proves the truthfulness of the witness. For the divine law declares that the truth is confirmed by a double testimony. For this reason He says: "Behold, you are fair, my neighbor; behold, you are fair."
But since the entire Church is one body of Christ, and in that one body, as the Apostle B says, there are many members—yet all the members do not have the same function; but God has created one as an eye in the body, and another as an ear; and there are some who become hands through the operation of the virtues, and others are called feet who bear the burdens; and there would be some function also of taste and smell, and all the individual parts through which a human body is constituted—and it is possible to find in the common body of the Church lips and teeth, and a tongue, breasts, and stomach, and neck; and as Paul says: "Even the parts of the body which seem less honorable"—for this reason, that accurate judge of beauty, regarding the members that please Him out of the whole body, bestows a unique and appropriate praise upon each one. C
He begins the encomia, however, from the more principal members. For what is more precious among our members than the eyes? D Through them the perception of light takes place, by which we recognize friends and enemies, by which we distinguish what is our own from what is alien, which become guides and teachers for every task, and our guides for an unerring journey, born with us and inseparable; their position, placed above the organs of the other senses, demonstrates the more excellent use they have for us in life. And those who hear these things can altogether perceive without difficulty to which members of the Church the praise of the eyes looks. Samuel was an eye,
for so he was called, a seer A appointed by God to watch for the salvation of those guarded by him. Micah was an eye, the one who sees, and Moses was the one observing, who for this very reason was even called a god. All those who were appointed for the guidance of the people were eyes, whom the men of that time also named "Seers." And now, all who in the body of the Church fill their place and are appointed to oversight are properly called eyes, if they look accurately toward the Sun of righteousness, B not growing dim in works of darkness, and if they distinguish their own from what is foreign, in knowing that everything visible and transitory is foreign to our nature, but that which is set before us by hope is our own, the possession of which remains forever unalienable. It is also the work of the eyes to distinguish the friend from the enemy, so that we may love the true friend with all our heart and soul and strength, and show a perfect hatred against the enemy of our life. Furthermore, whoever prescribes what must be done, and teaches what is expedient, and is a guide for the journey to God, performs excellently the duty of a pure and healthy eye, by shining before others through a sublime manner of living C just as the bodily eyes do. For these reasons the Word begins to praise the beauty of the bride from this part, saying: *Thine eyes are doves.* For when He sees those who perform the office of eyes being innocent in what is good, He calls their embrace and the simplicity and innocence in their character "doves." For a certain innocent simplicity is peculiar and proper to doves. Or perhaps another kind of praise as well is attributed to the eyes in this way. Truly, since the images of all things that fall under our vision, striking the pure pupil, complete the act of seeing, it is altogether necessary that, whatever one looks upon, he receives its form through the eye, just as the appearance of what is seen is imprinted in a mirror. Therefore, when he who has received this visual authority in the Church looks toward nothing gross or bodily, D a spiritual and immaterial life is brought to completion in him. And such a life is conformed by the grace of the Holy Spirit. Therefore, the most perfect praise of the eyes is that the form of these men's life is conformed to the grace of the Holy Spirit. For the dove is the Holy Spirit. But both eyes are praised, so that the whole man might become a participant in the praise, both he who appears on the outside and he whom we understand by the mind. For this reason, in this praise, He also makes mention of another kind of excellence, when He says: *Beside that which is hidden in thee.* For of a good life, one part is manifest, so as to be known even to men; but the part that is hidden and secret is seen by God alone. He, therefore, who sees what is not worked upon and looks into the hidden things, bears witness regarding the person being praised that what is kept silent is greater than what is manifest, through which He says: *Thine eyes are doves, beside thy silence.* For it is already beyond the one who has been praised, this which is marveled at through silence.
Certainly, what comes into admiration silently is not continued by that which has been celebrated thus far. However, He gradually carries forward the encomium of her beauty, transferring the discourse to her hair, when He says: *Thy hair A is as flocks of goats, which are revealed from Mount Gilead.*
First, one must consider what the nature of hair is; and thus, subsequently, this praise which is bestowed upon the Bride through her hair will be understood. Now, the hair of a woman’s head is called by Paul the glory of the woman, and he says the locks are given to the woman as a veil. He further says that modesty and discretion are the fitting attire for women, writing thus B regarding the matter: *As it is fitting for women who profess piety toward God to adorn themselves with modesty and discretion.* Through these words, Paul, in his wisdom, signifies that modesty and discretion are grasped by means of the hair upon the head with which the woman is adorned. For it is not fitting that any other glory be considered for a soul that professes piety toward God, except for modesty and discretion, which He named a "covering"—which, when she does not have it, she dishonors her head, just as the Apostle says. If, then, Paul philosophized thus about the hair, the words of the Apostle must be applied to the praise C of the Church in this discourse concerning the hair, according to the passage before us, where He says: *Thy hair is as flocks of goats, which are revealed from Mount Gilead.* For through these things, the Word praises a virtuous manner of life.
But it is also fitting to add this to the discourse about the hair: that the locks are devoid of every vital sensation. It is no small thing for the magnification of the encomia that there is in the hair neither a sensation of pain nor of pleasure. For the body, from which they grow, feels pain if it is plucked; but the hair itself, whether it be cut, or burned, or smoothed by some D cosmetic care, perceives nothing of what is done to it. Now, to be devoid of sensation is a property of the dead. Therefore, whoever accepts none of the sensations that are eagerly pursued in this world—neither being puffed up by glory and honor, nor being painfully affected by insults and dishonor, but rather preserving himself in the same state in either of these opposites—this is the praised hair of the Bride: having become completely dead and unmoved toward the affairs of the world, however things may stand.
But if the excellence of the hair is compared to the flocks of goats revealed from Gilead—what ought to be understood about these things with precision we have not yet been able to grasp. We conjecture, however, that just as the King, having transformed the wood of Lebanon into gold, silver, and purple, fashioned a litter for himself; so too does the Good Shepherd know how to take the flocks of goats and transform them into sheepfolds.
A And this name serves those foreigners who reveal such grace, so that those from among the nations who have followed the Good Shepherd may count as the hair in the adornment of the bride’s beauty; through which modesty, shame, continence, and the mortification of the body, as explained in the preceding discourse, are signified. Perhaps Elijah also contributes something to our consideration of these goats, for having spent a long time dwelling on Mount Galaad, he provided the most notable examples of a life of continence, being squalid in appearance, hairy in his growth, and clad not in soft clothing but in a goat’s skin. Therefore, all who organize their lives according to the example of that prophet become an ornament to the Church, living and cultivating virtue together in their mutual way of life, in accordance with the manner of philosophy that has gained prevalence in the current time. B And that it is from Galaad that such flocks are revealed increases the wonder of the miracle, inasmuch as the transition to the philosophy according to God has come to us from the life of the Gentiles. For it was not from Mount Sion, the holy mount, that the beginning of such a way of life took its origin; rather, a nation dedicated to idols arrived at such a transformation of life that it adorns the head of the bride with the excellences of virtue. Next, the Word places the teeth in the sequence of praises, having passed over the encomiums of the mouth and the lips. This is a matter worthy of not being left unexamined. Why is it that the teeth are placed before the lips in these praises? Perhaps someone might say that, wishing to show the beauty more elegantly, he is tacitly indicating the smile of the mouth through the description of the teeth. But I, looking elsewhere, consider that the beauty of the teeth is praised before the encomiums of the mouth for another reason. For once these are praised, the lip itself does not go without commendation, as he says her lips are like a scarlet thread and her speech is graceful. What, then, is my conjecture regarding this? The best order in learning is to be taught first, and then to speak. And one who says that teachings are the food of the soul will not err from the truth. C For just as we prepare bodily nourishment for the inner organs by masticating it with our teeth, so, too, is there a certain power in the soul that breaks down teachings, making the doctrine useful for the one who receives it. Therefore, I say that those teachers who deliver and distribute teachings with judgment, and through whose work the doctrine can be usefully and conveniently perceived, are figuratively called teeth in this passage. For this reason, the teeth are praised first, and then the encomium of the lips is introduced. For the lips would not flourish in the beauty of speaking, if the teeth—through the diligent contemplation of the teachings—did not bestow this very grace upon the lips in the act of speaking. This is the cause we propose is observed in the order of these praises.
Now it is time to examine the praise itself, and how it is that he compares the beauty of the teeth to the shorn flocks, which, recently emerged from the washing, D
A all alike rejoice in their twin offspring. Now, the statement of the praise is as follows: "Your teeth are like flocks of shorn ones, which have come up from the washing, all bearing twins, and none is barren among them." If we look at this according to the bodily sense of the image, I do not know how one could say the teeth are being praised by comparison to prolific flocks. For the praise of teeth consists in their solidity, their harmonious arrangement, and their being firmly fixed in the gums with a smooth and ordered alignment. But the flocks coming up from the washing with their twin offspring, as they are scattered through the glens—what kind of beauty of teeth do they depict for us by their own example? It is not easy to understand; for these [teeth] stand in a row, harmoniously touching one another, whereas those [flocks] are scattered apart from one another, thinning out in search of necessary pasture. Furthermore, it is not fitting that a tooth, which is naked by nature, should be compared to this animal that wears wool. Therefore, we must investigate how it is that he who honors the harmonious beauty of the teeth with such praises compares their elegance to flocks that give birth to twins, that have had their wool shorn, and that have washed the filth of the body away in the washing. What, then, shall we think about this? Those who, through a clearer B explanation, break down the divine mysteries so that this spiritual food may be more easily received by the body of the Church, these fulfill the work of the teeth, taking into their own mouths the thick and solid bread of the Word, and by more detailed contemplation, preparing it to be easily edible for the souls of those who receive it. For example (since it is better to set forth the meaning by examples), the blessed Paul now simply and without any preparation, like some unworked morsel, sets before us the commandment of the Law, saying: "You shall not muzzle an ox that treadeth out the corn." Again, having broken it down through explanation, he makes the will of the Law easily graspable, saying: "Is it for oxen that God is concerned? Or does he speak it entirely for our sake?" And many other things of this kind; for instance, "Abraham had two sons, one by the slave woman, and one by the free woman." C This is the unworked bread. But when, in the next place, he breaks it down and makes it edible for those being nourished, he transfers the history to the two Testaments: the one generating to servitude, and the other setting free from servitude. Thus, too, he takes the whole Law—so that we do not waste time speaking of each detail—as a thick body, and breaks it down through contemplation, working it from a bodily state into a spiritual one, saying: "We know that the law is spiritual." Therefore, that which we have observed in Paul—that the Church has a need for teeth, which fulfill the task of bringing clarity by breaking down the dogmas—this we say applies also to everyone who, in imitation of him, clarifies the mysteries for us. Therefore, the teeth of the Church are those who break down and ruminate for us the unworked grass of the divine oracles. D As, therefore, he describes the...
A good work of the episcopacy, the divine Apostle, as he speaks of each point, such as how one who has taken hold of the priesthood ought to be, just as having with all things the grace of teaching; so here the discourse wishes those who are ordained to the ministry of the teeth in the Church, first, to be shorn—that is, stripped of every material burden—then, to be pure from all pollution of flesh and spirit by the laver of conscience; further, always to ascend through progress and never be dragged back towards the abyss; and above all, to rejoice in double progenies of good fruits according to every kind of virtue, and to be barren in no good pursuit.
The double progeny is an enigma of the approval of each of those things which are understood in us, so that such teeth are twin-bearing: generating for the soul impassibility, and for the bodily life, seemliness. He adds to these the praise that follows, suitable B for the lips, likening the beauty to a scarlet thread, the interpretation of which he himself added, naming the thread "fair speech." But this has already been considered in what preceded: how the beauty in the lips is adorned by the ministry of the teeth. For through the teeth—that is, through the expositions of the teachers—the mouth of the Church speaks in unison. For this reason, the teeth are first shorn and washed, and they are not sterile, and they bring forth twins, and then the lips are adorned with the scarlet appearance, when the whole Church becomes, according to the agreement of the good, one lip and one voice. The model of the beauty is double. For he does not merely say that the lips are a thread, but he added also the flower of good color, so that the mouth of the Church might be adorned through both—both by the thread and by the scarlet—each being proper and distinct in its own part. For by the thread, consensus and concord are taught, so that she might all be in one thread, one single chain woven from diverse thoughts; but by the scarlet, one is taught to look to the blood through which we were redeemed, and always to carry through the mouth the confession of Him who redeemed us through His blood. For through both of these, the comeliness is fulfilled for the lips C of the Church, when faith shines forth in the confession, and love is intertwined with faith. And if it is necessary to encompass the model as if by some definition, we define the aforementioned thing thus: the scarlet thread is faith working through love, so that the scarlet signifies faith, while the thread interprets love. The Truth bears witness that the lips of the Bride are adorned with these. The "fair speech" does not stand in need of some deeper contemplation or other interpretation. For the Apostle has already declared that this speech is the word of faith which we preach, saying D: "If you confess with your mouth the Lord Jesus, and believe in your heart that God raised Him from the dead, you will be saved. For with the heart one believes unto righteousness, and with the mouth confession is made unto salvation."
A This is the beautiful speech through which the lips of the Church are flowery with that scarlet thread; and the Bridegroom loves the beauty and comeliness of the mouth, even taking delight in the redness of the cheek. Usage, by a catachresis, calls this part of the face a “pomegranate” (mῆλον). Therefore, he compares the apple of the cheek to the rind of the pomegranate, writing its praise in these words: “As a piece of a pomegranate is your cheek, besides your silence.”
That modesty is indeed what is being praised is easy for anyone to consider from the sequence of the matters observed. For when the Word had embodied the Church into the form of a bride and had appropriately distributed the individual virtues to the description of the beauty of the countenance, now, through the redness that glows upon the cheeks, He appropriately praises temperance, adorning it with modesty under the enigma of the pomegranate. For this fruit is astringent, and its surface is nourished by being inedible. Therefore, it is well and fittingly taken through contemplation for the attainment of temperance. For just as the astringency of the pomegranate rind nourishes and preserves the sweetness of the fruit contained within it, so too a life that is astringent, continent, and austere becomes a guardian of the goods of temperance. B And here the praise of this virtue becomes twofold: both through those things that appear in an honest life and through those things that are brought to completion in the impassibility of the soul; the praise of which is, as the Apostle says, “not from men, but from God.” C For the modesty that shines forth in the things that are done has its own praise from the things that are manifest; but there are others beyond these, things that are kept silent and are hidden miracles, which are seen only by that eye which beholds hidden things.
Through the things that follow, we learn that everything done by the God-bearing saints became a certain type and instruction for those things that are brought to completion in virtue. Marriages, migrations, wars, the construction of buildings—all things were prefigured according to a certain reason for the admonition of the life that was to follow. D For these things were written, he says, “for our admonition, upon whom the ends of the ages have come.” For the war against foreigners advises us to act bravely against vice. The study of contracting marriage suggests to us through enigmas the cohabitation with the virtues. Similarly, the migration denotes the migration toward a life to be lived according to virtue; and through the construction of houses, upon which they bestowed care, we are commanded to take care of our own houses, which are built through virtue. Therefore, it seems to me that that magnificent tower, in which David hung the best of the spoils, looking toward the progress of the Church, prefigures the work of those who bestow study upon virtue: which indeed appears extended to the height of some promontory, and is fitting for that ti-
- A me when it was thought necessary for the guarding of the spoils, which the king, after having subjugated the aliens and reduced them to servitude, gathered for himself as gain along with the rest of his wealth. The king therefore, through his own wisdom, showed towards what good David was looking for human life, having beforehand exposed, as a certain counsel for the life that follows, the construction of this tower. For, intending to praise the beauty of the whole body of the Church and of each of its members individually through a comparison and resemblance of one thing to another, and describing what kind of people those ought to be who hold the place of the neck among the people, he makes mention of this tower, which indeed is named David, but is known also by its battlements. For the battlements are called Thalpioth. B
The context of the discourse is thus: "Thy neck is as the tower of David, which is built in Thalpioth, a thousand shields hang upon it, all the arrows of the mighty." Therefore, the bodily construction of the tower is notable and worthy of admiration, because it is the work of King David, and because of the proud height of the place, and because of the arms suspended in it, namely the shields and the arrows, the multitude of which the context indicates by the name of the thousand. But our aim is to consider the power of the divine discourse: how that part of the Church to which the name of neck is given is compared to this tower. First, therefore, it is necessary to examine what part in our body is called by the name of neck, and then to adapt the name to the member of the Church. What, therefore, is placed between the shoulders, but sustains the head upon itself and comes to be as a base for what is placed upon it, is called the neck; C its posterior part is supported by bones, but the anterior part is free from the surrounding of bones. The nature of the bone is not self-contained and individual to itself, like the elbow and the shin, but is divided into the shape of vertebrae in many ways; and through the nerves, marrows, and ligaments joined to them, their union to one another occurs; and through a marrow-like substance passing through the middle, which is indeed contained by membranes, that which is inside is united to the brain. In the front, the neck contains the windpipe, which is the receptacle for the spirit that is housed within us and flows in from outside, by which the fire of the heart is fanned and restored to its operation according to nature. It also contains the passages of food, through the gullet and the throat, conveying everything that is introduced through the mouth to the cavity that receives these things. D The neck also has something special beyond the other members. For, in the upper position of the windpipe, there is within it the workshop of the voice, in which all the instruments of the voice are prepared, through which sound is generated as the spirit is rendered, passing in a circle around the windpipe. Thus, the bodily member having been described by us, it would be easy, from those things which have been considered here, to consider the neck of the ecclesiastical body: what it is that, through appropriate operations, properly receives this name, and is called the neck, and is likened to the tower of David.
First, then, and this is the primary thing, if anyone bears within himself the true head of the universe—I mean that head which is Christ, from whom the whole body is framed and joined together—he properly bears this name. Moreover, if he is receptive to the Spirit, who makes our heart fiery and warms it, and if he serves the Word with a resonant voice. For God fabricated the human voice for human nature for no other reason than that it should be an instrument of the Word, articulating the movements of the heart through itself. Let this neck also have the nutritive operation, I mean doctrine, through which the power is conserved for the whole body of the Church. For when nourishment always flows, the body remains in existence; but when it fails, it wastes away and perishes. Let it also imitate the harmonious arrangement of the vertebrae, in that those who are individuals in the people, through the ligament and bond of peace, make one member, which is inclined and raised up, and turned with easy motion to any side. Such a neck was Paul, and anyone else who, imitating him, has ordered his life aright; who bore the name of the Lord, having become a vessel of election for the Master; and the head of all was so accurately adapted to him, that even whatever he said was no longer he himself speaking, but his head speaking, just as he indicated to the Corinthians that it was Christ C speaking and declaring in him. Thus, his windpipe was eloquent and resonant, articulating the word of truth through the Holy Spirit; thus, his throat was so sweetened by the divine oracles, feeding the whole body through itself with those life-giving teachings. And if you also ask about the vertebrae, who so joined all into one body with the bond of peace and charity? Who so taught the neck to be inclined toward those things which are humble and abject, and to turn itself in every direction at once, and again to be raised up, by thinking upon things above, and to turn itself agilely and easily by looking around into the diagonal, in declining and avoiding the various snares of the devil? Such a neck, therefore, was built by David.
D Understand, moreover, by David the king, the father of the King, who from the beginning established man to be a tower, and not [to be] a fall, and through grace built him up again, fortifying him with many shields, so that he could no longer be easily invaded by the assaults of the enemies. For the hanging shields, not lying on the ground, but perceived as being in the air around him, and along with the shields, the spears of the mighty, bring terror to those who are being warred upon; so that they do not even attempt to begin to run down the tower. I think that the angelic guard, fenced round about such a tower, is signified to us by the multitude of the shields. Moreover, the mention of the spears indicates that meaning. For he did not say simply "spears," but [the spears] of the mighty.
A For he showed those who fight for us by the addition of the word "mighty," so that what is said comes to pass: *The angel of the Lord shall encamp round about them that fear him, and shall deliver them* (Ps. XXXIII, 18). And the number of one thousand does not seem to me to signify with precision the decade of hundreds; rather, it was taken by the Word as an indication of multitude. For it is customary in the figurative usage of Scripture for a multitude to be indicated by this number, as David says for a multitude: *Thousands of those who are at ease* (Ps. LXVII, 18), and, *More than thousands of gold and silver* (Ps. CXVIII, 72). Thus, then, we have considered the neck which is rooted upon the shoulders. By shoulders, to which it is attached, we understand the B studious pursuits of acting and working, through which our arms achieve their own salvation. And whoever attends carefully to what is said, clearly perceives from these things the increase of the soul which is raised on high, since previously it was content to be likened to the horses that defeated the Egyptian tyrant, and to have the beauty upon its neck compared to necklaces. But now he testifies how great a perfection of goodness it has acquired for itself, in that he does not liken the beauty of the neck to some necklaces or collars, but it is called a tower because of its magnitude, which makes it conspicuous and observable to those standing far off, not only by the magnificence of the building and the fact that it is raised to the greatest height, C but also by the position of the place, which naturally rises above the neighboring spots. When, therefore, the tower is the work of a king, but enters upon a high manner of life, then what is said by the Lord is shown to be firm and stable: *A city cannot be hid, that is set on a mountain* (Matt. V, 14). Understand, moreover, the tower to be the city.
It would be the time, then, to also consider the two fawns of the doe, which are called by the Word "breasts," that dwell around the heart of the bride, as he says: *Thy two breasts are like two young roes that are twins, which feed among the lilies* (Cant. IV, 5); because the location of the heart is between these two, whose pastures are not hay and thorns, but lilies, which offer their flower throughout the whole time of their feeding, and do not bloom at a certain time D and wither at a certain time, but provide perpetual nourishment for these fawns of themselves, so that the shadows of error, whose study is directed toward this life, may no longer dominate; but when the light has shone forth from every side, all things may be illuminated by the day, which diffuses light by breathing where it wills. For thus the Word says: *Until the day breathe, and the shadows be moved* (Cant. II, 17; IV, 6). You know, moreover, having learned entirely from the Gospel, that it is the Holy Spirit who, by breathing where it wills, brings light to those who know whence it comes and whither it goes: of whom the context of this discourse now speaks, saying: *Thy two breasts are like two young roes that are twins, which feed among the lilies, until the day breathe...*
and the shadows move.* that the Holy Spirit is called the Day, breathing light upon those in whom He resides, I do not suppose any person of understanding would doubt. For if those who are born of the Spirit become children of light and children of day, what else ought one to conceive the Holy Spirit to be, if not the light and the day, whose breathing becomes the expeller of the shadows of vanity? For it is absolutely necessary that when the sun appears, the shadows should not remain, but should pass away and depart. A It would be opportune for the examination of this discourse to add the mystery regarding the two young roes of the hind, whose birth indeed is twin-like, but whose food is the lily, and whose pasture is the good and fat earth—and this is the heart, according to the word of the Lord’s parable—in which feeding, and gathering the pure thoughts from it like flowers, they grow fat. The flower of the lily has a double grace from nature, an agreeable odor joined with beauty, so that it is pleasing and lovely to men in both respects, whether they are moved by the sense of smell or by the eyes, so that they may be abundantly gratified by its beauty. For the sense of smell is filled with the good odor of Christ, while by its appearance its purity and lack of any stained blemish are indicated. B Perhaps, therefore, by what has been said, the meaning of the discourse has now been made clear to us: that in the case of the two humans (as they are considered in individuals)—the one bodily and apparent, and the other intellectual and invisible—the birth of both is twin-like, as they come into life simultaneously joined to one another. For neither does the soul pre-exist the body, nor is the body constructed before the soul, but they come into existence in life simultaneously. Their food, according to nature, is purity and good fragrance, and all such things of which the virtues are fertile. But there are some who at times are occupied with a greater zeal for poison than for nourishment, who are not fed by the flowers of the virtues, but take pleasure in thorns and thistles. For we have heard the parable of the Gospel so naming sins, whose evil germination the curse of the serpent C brought forth. Since, therefore, there is need of discerning eyes, capable of distinguishing with precision the lily from the thorn, and of choosing what is saving while casting aside what is destructive, for this reason he named the one who like the great Paul becomes as a nurse to infants, and who nourishes with milk those recently born in the Church, "two breasts" born together, which were likened to the young roes of the hind—testifying by all things to the excellence present in such a member of the Church: that it is rightly led on every side to the pasture of the pure lilies, keenly discerning the thorn from that which nourishes, D and that it is concerned with the ruling faculty of the soul, whose symbol is the heart, which by itself turns the breasts—and further, in addition to these things, because it does not lock the grace within itself, but offers the nipple to those in need of the Word, just as a nurse warms the
A children of her own, as the Apostle likewise did and said. After the Word had hitherto brought forward the praise of the members of the Church, in what follows He makes a panegyric of her whole body at once, when through death He shall have destroyed him who had the power of death B and shall have brought Himself back again to His own glory of divinity, which He possessed from the beginning before the world was. For having said, *I will go for myself to the mountain of myrrh, and to the hill of incense*, by showing the glory of the divinity, He added: *You are all fair, my neighbor, and there is no spot in you*, teaching through the things said, first, that no one takes His soul from Him, but He has the power to lay it down, and He has the power to take it again, going for Himself to the mountain of myrrh, not by our works, so that no one may boast, but by His own grace, having undertaken death for the sake of sinners; then, that it is not possible for human nature to be purified from the spot in any other way than if the Lamb that takes away the sin of the world had blotted out all vice by Himself. He, therefore, who said, *You are all fair, my neighbor, and there is no spot in you*, and added the mystery which concerns the Passion, through the enigma regarding the myrrh, and then mentioned the incense, through which the divinity is designated, teaches us by this that whoever has been a partaker of the myrrh with Him will entirely be a partaker also of the incense. For he who has suffered with Him shall also be glorified with Him. And whoever has once been in the divine glory becomes altogether fair, being removed from every opposing spot. From which may we too be separated, through Him who for our sake died and rose again, Jesus Christ our Lord, to whom glory and power are due unto the ages of ages. Amen.
HOMILY VIII
CAP. IV, v. 8. *Come from Lebanon, bride, come from Lebanon; you shall come and shall pass from the beginning of faith, from the head of Sanir and Hermon, from the dens of the lions, from the mountains of the leopards. 9. You have heartened us, our sister, O bride. You have heartened us with one of your eyes, and with one chain of your neck.*
The great Apostle, who recounted great visions to the Corinthians, says that he was in doubt concerning his own nature, whether it was body or D intellect, at the time he was initiated into those mysteries: *I testify*, he says, *that I do not yet consider myself to have comprehended, but I reach forward to those things which are before, forgetting those things which are behind*, clearly meaning that even after that third heaven, which he alone knew (for Moses did not speak of it in the creation of the world), and after he had heard the ineffable mysteries of the things of paradise, he still goes on to what is higher and does not cease to ascend, never considering the good which is grasped as the final limit of desire: teaching us, I think, through these things, that of that blessed nature of goods, much indeed is what is found; but by infinite parts it is
A greater than what is always grasped, and this happens perpetually to him who is a participant in it, since in the entire eternity of the ages, through the ever-greater things, increase comes to those who are participants. For indeed, he who is pure in heart, according to the truthful voice of the Master, sees God; always according to the proportion of his strength, receiving understanding to the extent that he is able to contain it. For that which is infinite and incomprehensible in the Godhead remains beyond every grasp. For the magnificence of His glory has no limit, as the Prophet testifies; this always has the same state, being viewed perpetually at the same height. And just as the great David, who placed the beautiful ascents in his heart, and always going from strength to strength, cried this out to God: B Thou art the Most High forever, O Lord (Ps. LXXXIII, 6, 8); by this voice, I think, signifying that in the whole eternity of the unending age, he who runs toward Thee always becomes greater and higher than himself, growing proportionally through the ascent of good things. But You are the same—Most High, remaining into the age, never able to appear lower to those who are ascending, because by an equal ratio You are always higher and more exalted than the power of those who are being exalted. We have supposed, therefore, that the Apostle defines these things about the nature of the ineffable good things when he says that the eye has not seen that good, even if it is always seeing. For it does not see as much as it is, but as much as the eye is able to receive. And what the ear has not heard, C according to the measure of what is signified, even if it is always receiving the word by hearing; and [what] has not ascended into the heart of man, even if he who is pure in heart sees as much as he is able; for that which is always being grasped is greater than all the things previously grasped, yet it does not define in itself the thing sought; but the end of what has been found becomes a beginning for those ascending toward the discovery of higher things. And the one ascending never stands still, taking a beginning from a beginning, nor is the beginning of the ever-greater things perfected in itself. For the desire of the one ascending never stops concerning the things known, but through an even greater desire, D the soul, ascending successively toward another subject that lies above, always travels through higher things toward the indefinite.
These things having been distinguished by us in this way, it would be time to add the contemplation of the divine oracles. Come from Lebanon, bride, come from Lebanon; you shall come and pass through from the beginning of faith, from the head of Sanir and Hermon, from the lairs of lions, from the mountains of leopards. What then have we grasped in these things? The fount of good things always draws those who thirst to itself, as the Fount says in the Gospel: If any man thirst, let him come unto me and drink (Joan. VII, 37). For in these there is no limit given either to the thirst, or to the vehement appetite itself, or to the delight that is taken in the drinking; but by extension
A of the command, He makes the exhortation to be perpetual, both to thirst, and to drink, and to have the impetuous desire toward Him. But to those who have already tasted, and have learned by experience that the Lord is good, the tasting itself becomes a kind of exhortation to the participation of a greater good. For this reason, the exhortation which happens to the one ascending toward Him, which is always drawing him toward something greater, never ceases. For let us call to memory the encouragement frequently given in what has gone before by the Word to the bride, saying: *Come, my neighbor*; and again: *Come hither, my dove*; and: *Come hither into the covering of the rock*. And when the Word had uttered such other exhorting and attracting voices toward the soul for the desire of greater things, and had already testified to her as she was ascending toward Him that she was altogether immaculate, saying: *Thou art all fair, and there is no spot in thee*, B lest she become elated by this testimony and, becoming more arrogant, be hindered from ascending to higher things, through this voice of exhortation He again exhorts her to the desire of heavenly things, saying: *Come from Lebanon, my bride*.
Now that which is said is of this kind: "You have rightly followed," He says, "in what preceded; you have come with Me to the mountain of myrrh. For you were buried together with Me through baptism into death. You also ascended with Me to the hill of incense. For you rose again and were lifted on high in the communion of divinity, which the name of incense indicates. Ascend, therefore, for Me even from these to other mountains, progressing and being lifted on high through active knowledge." "Come, then," He says, "from Lebanon, no longer as one sought for marriage, but rather as a bride or one already wed. For it is not possible that anyone should have a life-fellowship with Me unless he be transformed through the myrrh of death to the divinity of incense. Since you have now reached this C height, do not stand still in your ascending, as you who have already reached perfection through these things. For this incense, which you partook of through the resurrection, becomes for you the beginning of faith; but it is also the beginning for the progress toward higher goods." From this beginning, therefore, which is faith, you will come and you will pass through; that is, "Both now you will come, and you will never cease to pass through via such ascensions."
Thus the context of the words runs: "You shall come and you shall pass through from the beginning of faith, from the head of Sanir and Hermon." But by these things He indicates the mystery of the second birth. For from thence they say the fountains of the Jordan flow, above which is situated this mountain which is divided into two summits, upon which these names, Sanir and Hermon D, are placed. Since, therefore, the stream that flows from these fountains has been for us the beginning of the transformation toward God, for this cause she hears the voice of Him who is calling her to Himself, who says: "Come from Lebanon, and from the beginning of faith, and from the head of these mountains, whence the fountains of the mystery have sprung for you." But He does well to add the mention of lions and leopards, so that by the juxtaposition of things that are grievous, He may make the enjoyment that is perceived from delightful things sweeter. For since man, having laid aside...
A the divine form, became brutal, becoming a leopard and a lion through wicked practices. For he who has been drawn by the lion that lies in wait in the den, as the Prophet says, and has been humbled in his snare, is transformed into its nature, for the beast has mastered his nature. “For let those who do these things become like them,” he says, “and all who trust in them.” Similarly, one also becomes a leopard by staining and wounding the soul through the blemishes of life. Since, therefore, there was a time when the human condition was in such a state, wandering through idolatry and Jewish deceit and the varied vice of sinners; but afterwards, through the Jordan and the myrrh and the Lebanon, it was raised to such a height that it already walks in the heights with God Himself: for this reason the Word increases the joy of the present goods. By the juxtaposition of the grievous things that once occurred, He brings forward the state in which the soul was before the Lebanon and the beginning of faith, and before the mysteries known to us at the Jordan. For just as life lived in peace becomes sweeter after war, being made pleasant by the recounting of sad things; and the good of health delights our senses all the more if nature should return to itself from some unpleasant sickness: in the same way, the good Bridegroom, dispensing an increase and multiplication of the joy B that is in good things to the soul ascending to Him, not only shows His own beauty to the bride, but also reminds her by His word of the form of the most dreadful wild beasts, so that she may take greater delight in the present good things, learning by comparison what kind of things she has exchanged for what. Perhaps, however, some other good is also provided for the bride by these things through providence. For since the Word wishes us, who are mutable by nature, not to slip toward evil through this change, but through an increase that is always taking place toward what is better, to have our change as a collaborator in the ascent to higher things, so that through the mutable quality of our nature we might be perfected in a state that is unchangeable toward evil: for this reason, like some tutor and friend, the Word has brought forward the memory of the wild beasts that once mastered us, so that by turning away from what is worse, we might perfect a state that is steadfast and unchangeable in good things, neither halting in our change toward the better, nor changing toward evil. For these reasons He also commands the bride to come from the Lebanon, and He reminds her of the den of the lions in which she used to lodge, and He brings forward the mountains of the leopards C where she dwelt when she lived her life in the company of the beasts.
But since the voice of the Word is entirely a voice of power, and just as at the creation light shone forth at the same time as the command, and again the firmament stood fast at the commanding word, and all the rest of creation likewise appeared together with the creative Word; in the same way, now too, when the Word has commanded the soul to come to Him,
without any doubt, confirmed and corroborated by the command, becomes such as the Spouse desires her to be, A led over to that which is more divine, and transformed from the glory in which she was into a superior glory through a beautiful transformation: so much so that she was a cause of wonder to the choir of angels that is around the Spouse, and, pursuing her with every good word and with praises, they emitted this voice full of wonder: You have put a heart into us, our sister, my spouse. For the character of impassibility similarly shining upon her and upon the angels leads her to a kinship and fraternity with incorporeal beings, seeing that she so conducted herself in the flesh as to be affected by no disturbances of the soul. Therefore they say to her: You have put a heart into us, our sister, my spouse. Glorying properly in both names: our sister, because of the kinship of impassibility; but spouse, because of the conjunction with the Word. Moreover, we consider the meaning of this word, "You have heartened [or: Cordificasti]," to be such as this, namely, "You have animated," as if they were saying to her: "You have placed a heart within us." For the sake of clarity, that what is said may be more evident to us, we shall take up the divine Apostle to interpret these mysteries. For he says somewhere, writing about himself to the Ephesians, when he recounted to us that great manifestation of God which came to pass through the flesh, that not only to human nature, but even to the principalities and powers that are in the heavens, the multiplex and varied wisdom of God became known, manifested through the dispensation of Christ among men. The context, however, holds it thus: "That there might be made known to the principalities and powers B in the heavenly places, through the Church, the multiform wisdom of God, according to the predetermination of the ages which He made in Christ Jesus our Lord." In whom we have boldness and access in confidence through faith in Him. For, in very truth, through the Church the varied and multiplex wisdom of God becomes known to the supramundane powers, which through opposites brings about great and admirable wonders. For how has life come to be through death, and justice through sin, and blessing through a curse, and glory through ignominy, and power through weakness? For in former times the supramundane powers knew only the simple and uniform wisdom of God, doing miracles in a manner consistent with its nature. Nor was there anything varied in those things which were seen, in the fact that the divine nature, being power and might, freely made every creature by the sole movement and impulse of its will, and by leading the nature of things into generation, and bringing all things to pass as very good, flowing forth from the fountain of beauty. But this varied and multiplex kind of wisdom, which consists of the connection with opposites, they have now been clearly taught through the Church: namely, how the Word becomes flesh, how life is mingled with death, how by His own bruising and by His own welts He heals our wounds: C how by the weakness of the cross He defeats the powers of the adversary: how in the flesh is manifested
that which is invisible: how He ransoms the captives, being Himself the one who buys and Himself becoming the price—for He gave Himself as a ransom for us to death: how He is in death, and yet does not depart from life: how He is mingled with servitude, and yet remains in the kingdom. For all these things and such like, being manifold and not simple works of wisdom, the friends of the bridegroom, having learned them through the Church, were heartened, having perceived another character of divine wisdom in the mystery. And if it is not too bold to say it, perhaps they, too, seeing the beauty of the bridegroom through the bride, marveled at Him who is invisible and incomprehensible to all beings. B For Him whom no man has ever seen, as John says, nor can any man see, as Paul bears witness, He has made the Church His own body, and through the addition of those who are being saved, He builds it up in charity, until we all come into a perfect man, unto the measure of the age of the fullness of Christ. If, therefore, the Church is the body of Christ, and Christ is the head of the body, fashioning the face of the Church with His own character; perhaps the friends of the bridegroom, looking towards these things, were heartened, because they see the invisible more clearly in her. Just as those who are unable to look upon the very disk of the sun, but by the reflection of water see him; so also they, looking as in a pure mirror, in the face of the Church, see the sun of justice, who is comprehended by the mind through that which appears.
For this reason, it has not been said to the bride by the friends just once, "You have heartened us," C which is to say, "You have instilled in us a soul and a faculty of thought for the comprehension of the light, by means of yourself." But they repeat the same speech again, adding reliability to what is said by means of the repetition. For they say, repeating: "You have heartened us with one of your eyes." This is what brought the greatest affection of admiration for the bride to the friends. For since the operation of seeing in the soul is twofold—one viewing the truth, the other wandering about in vain things—since the pure eye of the bride is opened only toward the nature of the Good, and the other is entirely at rest, for this reason the friends offer the praise to the one eye, through which alone she contemplates Him, I mean Him alone, who is grasped in the unchangeable and eternal nature, namely the true Father, and the only-begotten Son, and the Holy Spirit. For that which is considered in one nature, without any separation or alienation being produced by the diversity of the hypostases, is truly the only One. For there are some who, with misguided eyes, have a sharp gaze that is ill-directed toward that which cannot exist, dividing into many natures that which is one, according to the fantasies of perverse eyes; these are the ones called "many-seeing," who, because they see many things, nothing
are blind to all others toward which the eyes of the many look. Therefore, the Bride arouses admiration in her friends by one of her eyes. A Thus, he who has many eyes is blind—he who looks at vain things with many eyes. But that person is sharp-sighted and keen-eyed who, through the one eye of the soul, looks only toward the Good.
It is not difficult to consider what that "one" may be, or what is the necklace of the Bride's neck, by means of what has been previously examined, even if the context of the wording should appear somewhat obscure. For the passage says: *"You have gladdened us with one of your eyes in one necklace of your neck,"* so that the "in one" is in agreement with "from one of your eyes," with us understanding by implication "in one soul." For there are many souls in each of the uninstructed, in whom the passions, through the dominance they obtain, pass into the habits of the soul: into pain and pleasure, or anger and fear, or cowardice and boldness, changing the character of the soul. B But she who looks toward the single principle of a life led by virtue is testified to as living with one soul. Therefore, the saying must be distinguished in this way: that "in one" is to be understood as joined in thought to what preceded it—either "in one soul" or "in one state." But what follows has another meaning, namely, "the necklace of your neck," as if someone, translating the whole into a clearer sense, were to say: "And you have one eye, and one soul, while you look toward the One, for the reason that you are not known through diverse affections. And the position of your neck has perfection, since it has taken up the divine yoke." For in the necklace of the neck, the vision sees the yoke of Christ; but in the affection C toward Him who is truly good, it sees one eye and one soul. Therefore, we confess that you have gladdened our hearts with your miracles, showing one eye and one soul in the necklace of your neck; and the necklace of the Bride's neck is a certain yoke, as we have said.
This, then, is the praise of the angels that they have rendered concerning the beauty of the Bride; for we have understood these to be the friends of the Bridegroom. And so that the praise of the Bride might not appear rash and false, the Word confirms the judgment of the friends concerning the Bride's beauty, approving it with His own suffrage, and He Himself adds greater wonders to the testimony of her beauty, describing in the discourse the elegance and loveliness attributed to the very limbs. D I will add this, God granting, in what follows, if the strength should be given to us by divine aid for the understanding of the mysteries, and for the recognition of the beauty of the Church, and for the praise of the glory of His grace, in Christ Jesus, to whom is due all glory for ever. Amen.
HOMILY IX
A Chap. iv, v. 10. *How beautiful are thy breasts, my sister, my spouse? How beautiful are thy breasts more than wine, and the odor of thy garments above all spices?* 11. *Thy lips drop honey-comb, O spouse: honey and milk are under thy tongue, and the odor of thy garments is as the odor of incense.* 12. *A garden enclosed, my sister, my spouse, a garden enclosed, a fountain sealed.* 13. *Thy plants are a paradise of pomegranates with the fruits of the orchard, and cypresses with spikenard.* 14. *Spikenard and saffron, cane and cinnamon, with all the trees of Libanus, myrrh and aloes with all the chief ointments.* 15. *A fountain of gardens, a well of living water, which runneth with a strong stream from Libanus.*
B *If you be risen with Christ, seek the things that are above, where Christ is sitting at the right hand of God* (Coloss. iii, 1). He who speaks in Paul says these things to us. *For you are dead,* he says, *and your life is hid with Christ in God. When Christ shall appear, your life, then you also shall appear with him in glory.* If, therefore, we have become dead to the lower nature, having transferred our hope of life from earth to heaven; and if the life that is through the flesh is hidden among us, according to the proverb which says, *The wise conceal their sense* (Prov. x, 14), let us expect the true life to be manifested in us, which is Christ, C so that we also may be manifested in glory, having been transformed into something more divine: in this way let us hear the present words, as though dead to the body, and not being drawn away to a carnal understanding by the things that are said. For he who is dead to the passions and desires of the soul leads the meanings of the words toward that which is pure and sincere, and in no way subject to destruction, meditating on the things that are above, where Christ is sitting at the right hand of God the Father, in whom there is no affection or perturbation of soul, forgetting things that are D humble and abject. Let us hear, therefore, the divine words, by which Scripture describes the beauty of the immaculate Virgin. Let us hear, however, as those who are already outside flesh and blood, and transformed into a spiritual nature. *How beautiful are thy breasts, my sister, my spouse? How beautiful are thy breasts more than wine, and the odor of thy garments above all spices?*
That everyone who does the will of God is His brother and sister and mother, and that she who is betrothed and joined to the Lord as a chaste virgin, for the participation of the immaculate bridal chamber, is properly named the spouse, this would be clear to anyone who is not ignorant of the God-inspired Scriptures; but as for me, while searching out the sense of these divine words, I see that not only does Scripture attribute praise to the spouse by such an appellation, but I say that the Bridegroom goes on to relate the causes of the fact that she has grown to such beauty: insofar as she would not have become beautiful in the fountains of good teachings, which by the metaphorical meaning...
A she names as breasts, unless she had first rendered herself a sister of the Lord through the performance of good works, and, renewed unto virginity through the rebirth from above, had become the betrothed and bride of Him who espoused her. He, therefore, who named her his sister and bride, states the cause of the transformation of her breasts to that which is better and more perfect, for they no longer pour forth milk, the nourishment of infants, but B pour out the unadulterated wine for the joy of the more perfect, whose grace the water of the tavern-keepers has not corrupted. And there is preserved in a certain way in these things that are said, as in nuptial joy, a certain kindness of charity, as both mutually bestow upon each other an amorous affection. For with like words the bridegroom receives the Church in turn, by which she had earlier in the proems praised his beauty. For immediately in the first words, when he desired the Word that proceeds from the divine mouth to be in her mouth—signifying this by the enigma of a kiss—he stated the cause of this desire, namely, that her very breasts are good, surpassing by their generous supply the nature of wine, and exceeding every good odor of ointments and aromatics, saying these things in these words: "Thy breasts are better than wine, and the odor of thine ointments is above all aromatics." C Since, therefore, we learn this doctrine from divine philosophy in all other things as well, that God becomes such to us as we have shown ourselves to be to God through the choice of our free will—for David testifies in his prophecy that He is good to the good, but to those who have become bestial in their lives, another of the prophets calls Him a bear and a leopard, setting forth through enigmas the evangelical teachings long before, in which the character of the King's words is perceived by one as on the right, and by another as on the left: to some indeed good and sweet, but to others terrible and bitter, adapting Himself congruently to the choice of the free will of those who are judged. For this reason now also a return-gift is made by the Word to the bride, since she celebrated the beauty of the Master with praises, and in similar things the Lord has repaid her with praise. For He also accepts the change of her breast, namely, that which by operation has been made for the better, since [they] having ceased to nourish with milk, pour out wine and not milk, from which D joy arises for the more perfect hearts, which are no longer tossed by the waves of infancy, but are able to be filled by the mouth from the crater of wisdom and draw in good things.
After, therefore, He has praised her breasts on account of the abundance of wine, He adds also the praise of the good odor, saying: "And the odor of thy garments is above all aromatics." It is necessary, however, for those who have learned from the holy Scripture the nature of those things which are called aromatics to understand such praise. Every well-breathing aroma becomes a pleasure of the sense of smell. Let us understand, therefore, those things to be called aromatics which we have learned from holy Scripture to breathe well. As Noah offers sacrifice to God, and the Lord smelled the sweet odor
A. Therefore, sacrifice becomes an aroma to God. And many propitiatory sacrifices are offered to God after this through the Law—sacrifices of thanksgiving, of salvation, for purification, and for sin. Count all these among the aromatics: the whole fruits, the whole burnt offerings, the partial dedications of the first-fruits, the breast of the sacrificial animal, the lobe of the liver, the kidney fat, and in addition to these, the frankincense, the fine flour soaked in oil, the incense of composition, and everything else that has a connection through fire: let all these be in the catalog of aromatics. When, therefore, we hear of the bride’s ointment—which is judged worthy of being received more than all aromatics—we understand by this word that the mystery of the truth of the evangelical doctrine, which is fulfilled, is the only thing sweet-smelling to God B, preferred to all legal aromatics, C as it is no longer covered with any type and shadow, but is made sweet-breathing by the manifestation of the truth. For if the Lord smelled something of the preceding aromatics as a sweet odor, each of them was deemed worthy of acceptance according to the Word that is manifested in them, not according to the external and bodily form of the things done. And this is clear from the great voice of the Prophet, where He says, “I will not accept calves from your house, nor he-goats from your flocks; for I will not eat the flesh of bulls, or drink the blood of goats.” Although many animal sacrifices have often taken place, yet even if these things occur, there is another thing legislated for you in an enigma through them: that it is necessary for the passions within you to be slain. For a sacrifice, He says, to God is a spirit of contrition; a heart that is contrite and humbled God will not despise. Hence our sacrifice of praise comes into being, glorifying Him who smells such an odor. Since, therefore, the soul which breathes well spiritually—according to Paul, who was the sweet odor of Christ—having surpassed all the typical aromatics of the Law, became herself sweet-smelling through her life; and since the ointment of the priesthood and the incense of composition, having breathed well through the collection and mixture of various virtues, appeared worthy to the Bridegroom’s sense of smell as an odor of sweet fragrance; for this reason the divine sense, as Solomon calls it, of the bodily aromatics of the Law, adds that immaterial and pure odor which is perfumed through the virtues, saying: “And the odor of your ointments is above all aromatics.” D
The next passage leads the praise to a higher level, testifying in its discourse to the abundance of spiritual gifts that came to her from meditation and attention. For since the proverbial word wishes the disciple of wisdom to frequent the bee (and you certainly understand who the teacher is from the disciples), saying to the lovers of wisdom: “Go to the bee, and learn how industrious she is, and how she trades her work as something reverent,”
A whose labors kings and private individuals employ for health; and he says she is desirable and distinguished to all, being indeed weak in strength, but having honored wisdom, and for this reason, having been brought forward as an example of life for those who are virtuous. For [having honored] wisdom, he says, [the bee] has been brought forward. He counsels, through the things mentioned, that one should abstain from no good instruction, but rather, by flying over the meadow of the divinely inspired oracles, and gathering something like a flower from each of them for the procreation of wisdom, one should construct wax for oneself in the heart, as in a certain hive, depositing this industry and labor of multiple disciplines in unconfused recesses of the memory, as if in certain tubules fabricated within a honeycomb: and thus, in imitation of that wise bee, whose honeycomb is sweet but whose sting does not prick, one should perpetually trade this noble work of the virtues. For he truly trades, who exchanges eternal goods for the labors undertaken here, and distributes his own labors for the health of the soul to kings and private individuals: to the extent that this soul becomes desirable to the bridegroom, and clear and distinguished to the angels, while in its infirmity it perfects virtue on account of its honor for wisdom. Since, therefore, the narrations concerning that wise bee are examples of erudition and diligence, and the various divisions of spiritual gifts reach those who have labored in proportion to their zeal; therefore he says to the bride: “Your heart has become full of honeycombs of every kind of erudition, from which you bring forth out of the good treasure of your heart the sweet drops of discourse: C so that your speech may be to you honey mixed with milk. For a honeycomb,” he says, “drips from your lips, O bride, honey and milk are under your tongue.” For you have a prepared discourse, not showing a uniform utility to the listeners, but one adjusted to the powers of those who receive it: so that it is suitable both to the more perfect and to the infants: becoming honey to the perfect, but milk to the infants, such as Paul was, in that he nourished the newborn with soft words, but spoke wisdom among the perfect in a mystery, hidden from the ages, which this age does not contain, nor the princes of this age (I Cor. II, 8). He says, therefore, that this preparation of honey and milk is under the tongue, truly indicating by this voice the stored and opportune use of discourse. For he who knows how one ought to respond to each person, having this varied power of discourse under the tongue, fitly provides to each of the listeners at the right time that which is of use to him.
Having given this praise to the mouth and tongue of the bride, he passes again to greater encomia, saying: D “The smell of your garments is like the smell of incense.” This that is said is a certain philosophy, indicating what the life that is lived according to virtue looks toward for men. For the end of the life that is lived according to virtue is
A to be assimilated to God, and on this account, both the purity of the soul and its being unmixed with any passionate disposition are diligently practiced by good men, so that a certain figure and character of the supereminent nature might, through a more refined life, come to be in them as well. Since, therefore, the life that is lived according to virtue is not of one form, nor of one mode, but just as in the construction of textiles the weaver’s art makes a garment through many threads—some stretched out straight, while others are divided laterally—so also in the life that is lived according to virtue, many things must converge through which the good life is woven. The divine Apostle enumerates these threads through which the weaving of good works consists, mentioning love, and joy, and peace, patience, B and kindness, and all such things by which he who puts on the heavenly incorruption is adorned, moving out of the earthly life in which destruction falls. For this reason, she who is in the garment receives the adornment of the bride, as being likened to frankincense in its fragrance. And yet, before this, he said that the fragrance of the bride’s ointment excelled all aromatics, so that in this he seems to remove all praises, since she who had been preferred to every aromatic is now, by comparison, likened to one aromatic, as the Scripture has said: *As the odor of frankincense is the good odor of thy garments.* But since the incense of frankincense was, for a certain reason, assigned specifically to the honor of God, for this cause she who was judged to be above all aromatics is deemed worthy C of being likened to the one aromatic that is dedicated to God, so that the meaning of the enigma is such: Thy garment of virtues, O bride, imitates the divine beatitude, being assimilated through purity and impassibility to the nature to which there is no access. For such is the odor of thy garments, he says, that it is like the frankincense which is dedicated to the honor of God.
Again, we learn through the praises that follow how one might become a sister and spouse of the Lord, through that which he says: *A garden enclosed, my sister bride.* If, therefore, anyone claims this for himself, he becomes a bride by being joined to the Lord, and a sister by doing His will, as the Gospel says; let it be a flowering garden D that is well-growing, having in itself the beauty of all trees, namely the sweet fig, and the fruit-bearing olive, and the high-crowned palm, and the flourishing vine, not any thorny bramble, nor fleabane, but cypress and myrtle instead of them. For thus does the great David and the sublime Isaiah know how to adorn such a garden: the one saying, *The righteous man shall flourish like a palm tree*; and, *I, however, am like a fruitful olive tree*; and, *Thy wife shall be as a flourishing vine.* And by another prophet, he who rests under his own fig tree is called blessed. But Isaiah says that, instead of a bramble, the cypress shall spring up, and in place of fleabane, the myrtle.
A To set forth in detail the individual riddles concerning these trees, which have been pointed out to us by prophecy, would be superfluous, since it is manifest to all what the sweet fruit of the fig tree is, which ripens from a most acrid sap, being at first bitter and uneatable, but afterwards becoming a peaceful fruit, sweetening the senses of the soul. And what does the production of the olive's fruit confer upon us through that most acrid and bitter juice, which at first is nourished within it, but afterwards, through appropriate ripening and cultivation, is transformed into the nature of oil, which becomes the material for light, refreshment from weariness, relief from labors, cheerfulness for the head, and aid in the contests for those who strive lawfully? And how does the palm tree make its fruit difficult for thieves to approach, as it stores it up on high and does not bring it forth near the ground, just as the grace and beauty of the vine, and the fragrant cypress, and the sweetness of the myrtle? All these things, when transferred through tropological contemplation to the rationale of virtue, are evident to all who listen wisely to where they look. B Therefore, the garden that is made from such trees is flourishing and well-planted, and is fortified on all sides by the fence of the commandments, so as to afford no access to itself for thieves and beasts. For he who is surrounded on every side by the hedge of the commandments cannot be approached by the wild boar, nor does the boar from the forest graze upon him and ravage him. If, therefore, there is such a garden, and it is so protected, it becomes the sister and bride of Him who said to such a soul: "A garden enclosed, my sister, my bride."
But this garden also has need of a fountain, so that the grove may remain flourishing and well-germinating, irrigated by perennial water; for this reason, in the praises, One joined the fountain to the garden, saying: "A garden enclosed, a fountain sealed." The rationale of the fountain is taught to us by C the Proverb through a riddle, when it says: "Let the fountain of water be sweet for you, and let it be for you alone, and let no stranger share with you." For just as there it forbids the water of the fountain from being consumed by strangers, so here it testifies that the fountain is not to be poured out to strangers by saying "sealed," which is tantamount to saying "guarded." The meaning is as follows: The fountain, in my opinion, is properly named the cognitive faculty of our soul, which makes every kind of reasoning well up and flow within us. But our movement of thought becomes our own when it is moved toward those things which are beneficial to us, providing every cooperation for the acquisition of goods. D But when someone turns the activity of his thoughts toward the invention of vice, then the stream is consumed by strangers, to such an extent that the thorny life is indeed well-nourished, being irrigated by the aid of evil thoughts, while the better plant is dried up and withers, as no moisture of good thoughts nourishes its root. Since, therefore, the seal is that by which what is protected is kept safe, this doc-
A doc- nat, that it may in no wise be stolen away, deterring the thief with its sign: but whatever is not stolen remains intact for the Master. Here, praise seems to bear witness to the bride’s supreme virtue, namely, that her thought remains untouched by the enemy, guarded in purity and impassibility. Purity seals this fountain for its own Master, with no mud of thoughts disturbing that which is lucid and airy in the heart. But that the meaning may be made clearer, it is such as we say: Since, of the things within us, some are truly our own, as many as are proper to the soul; while others we attach to our own property as if they were ours—I mean what pertains to the body and things external—deeming as our own, by a certain false estimation, things that are alien (for what has the soul, which is devoid of matter, in common with material density?)—for this reason, the proverbial saying counsels us not to let the fountain of our thought be spent on things alien to us, I mean the body and things external, but to remain in its own garden, irrigating the plantation of God. We have learned B that the fruits of virtue are the plantation of God, in which the cognitive faculty of our soul, being occupied and flowing out to nothing external, is sealed with the character of truth, molded by its relationship to the good.
Let us also see the power of the praises that follow. “Your shoots,” he says, “are a paradise of pomegranates with the fruit of apple trees, cypresses with nards. Nard and saffron, calamus and cinnamon, with all the trees of Lebanon; myrrh and aloes, with all the first of perfumes. 15. A fountain of gardens, a well of living water flowing with force from Lebanon.” That there lies in what has been said a very great and extraordinary meaning, by which the beauty of her who has been exalted according to God is held in wonder, being celebrated with manifold hyperboles of praise, is clear even from the ready reading of what has been spoken. Yet what is the true understanding that these words signify, only he could know clearly who, according to holy Paul, knows how to speak in the Spirit the divine mysteries. For how is what is sent forth by the bride a paradise of shoots? And how is the fruit of apple trees C produced from the shoots? And how do the apple trees become a catalog of perfumes and aromatics? For in the fruits of the apple trees there is cypress, and nard, and saffron, and calamus, and cinnamon, and every tree of Lebanon, as if no difference of the fragrance of Lebanon were lacking in those things enumerated; to which are added myrrh and aloes, and all the first perfumes. And she who was previously named “garden” by the one praising her above, is now called a “fountain of gardens,” and a “well of living water flowing with force from Lebanon.” But as I previously said, those who are able to search out the depth of the riches and the wisdom and the knowledge of God would see the true account concerning these things. We, however, lest we be left entirely without a taste D of the goods set before us in this passage, and to
A ensure our participation in these goods while they are set before us, let us approach the context of the discourse in a few words, taking God the Word Himself as the guide of our diligence. The entire catalogue of praises, both that which was spoken before these and those which the discourse has now set before us regarding her, does not seem to look primarily toward some mere eulogy; rather, it aims to instill power through what is said for the ascent of the heart toward greater and higher things. For instance, she is named both sister and bride of the Word; yet each of these names joins the soul to the bridegroom—the meaning of 'bride' making her one of one body with the incorruptible bridegroom, as Paul says, he into whom no corruption falls; while the zeal which resides in the will, leading to brotherly affinity and conjunction, is in accordance with the voice of the Gospel. Then the nature of the breasts is praised, which instead of milk pours forth wine; and it is manifest that the praise is becoming a work. For that which is not, is not B praised. Besides these, her ointment is judged to be superior to all aromatics; which would not have been judged to be so, had she not in truth arrived at that height through progress in that which is better. After this, the honeycombs of the discourse which distill from her mouth are held in admiration, and the preparation of wisdom tempered and placed under her tongue, milk tempered with honey. And these things too are virtue, not words; as she, having been led by the Word to a higher ascent, has been so increased that she makes her mouth a fountain of honey and her tongue a storehouse of mixed wisdom, in which is contemplated the land of promise, which flows with milk and honey. But when the Word had lifted her up so high through these ascents, He leads her still higher, saying that her garments exhale the fragrance of frankincense, by which the Word testifies that she has put on Christ; for the end of every life that is lived according to virtue is participation in God. For through frankincense the Divine is indicated. Nor does the soul, which is always led by the Word to that which is higher, C come to a halt even in these things; but after being assimilated to the fragrance of frankincense, she becomes a garden in the likeness of paradise. A garden, not just as it was among the first men, open and unguarded, but fortified on all sides by the memory of the commandment. Do you see how much power she has received to be borne upwards? See also for me the ascent beyond this. For she was not only made a garden enclosed, bearing its own fruit, but she also becomes drinkable for those who thirst, having been transformed into the nature of a fountain, and one that is sealed. And she did not stop even at these; but she reached such a degree of growth toward the greater, that from her mouth a paradise springs forth. For he who attends more accurately to the emphasis of the Hebrew diction says, instead of what was to be said: "Thy emissions D from thy mouth," he says, "are a paradise of pomegranates." Which is just as if he said: The word that is sent forth through thy mouth is a paradise of pomegranates. Now pomegranates produce every kind
of fruit: pome, cypress with nard, and crocus, A calamus and cinnamon, and every other species of Lebanon, and myrrh, and aloes, and the finest ointments. Since, therefore, having been properly granted that blessedness which is in the Psalm, and relying upon God's help, she has set these beautiful ascents in her heart, always proceeding from strength to strength, the emissions of her mouth are well called a paradise of pomegranates in a more perfect state. The word "emission" has been aptly applied to the subject at hand. For that which is sent forth passes from the one who sends to the one who receives it. And this can be learned from the customary use of the word, as the Gospel also says, that the Word called "Apostles," that is, "those sent," the disciples who were being sent forth for the preaching of the truth. What, then, is it that the bride's mouth sends forth? It is clearly the word of faith, which, when it has entered into those who receive it, becomes a paradise, having been implanted in their hearts B through hearing. Now, common usage is accustomed to call a grove that is planted and thick with trees a paradise. In order, therefore, that we might also learn the kind of trees which are cultivated through the Word in the gardens of the souls of those who have believed, he calls the trees pomegranates, which the Word plants and cultivates, that which is sent forth from the mouth of the bride. Now the pomegranate is difficult for a thief to approach, for it puts forth thorny branches, and contains and nourishes its fruit within a certain austere and bitter-tasting bulwark; but in its own proper time, after it has ripened, the rind cracks open and it appears within, pleasing to the sight and well-disposed, and honey-sweet to the taste and causing no harm, sweetening the sensory organs with a wine-like, juicy savour. For this reason, it seems to me that the word sent forth from the mouth of the bride C works as a paradise of pomegranates in the souls of the hearers, so that we may be taught through what is said not to be softened and enervated by any dissoluteness and luxury in the present life, but to choose a life hardened by self-control. For in this way the fruit of virtue would become inaccessible to thieves, being fenced in by the astringent and defensive enclosure of self-control, and through a dignified and unyielding state, like the sharp points of thorns, wounding those who approach for an evil purpose. But when the season provides the opportunity for enjoying the fruits, a manifold variety of all kinds of orchard fruits is produced—not by resulting in the enjoyment of wild pears, or acorns, or anything of that sort D that produces fruit—but a varied and multiform nature of aromatics is found among the orchard fruits. For cypress together with nard is a beautiful pairing, the one being warm, and the other fragrant. For heat in itself is not praiseworthy when that heat is a foul-smelling inflammation, but it is necessary for heat to bear witness to its purity through a good odor, so that one may be fervent in the Holy Spirit, being purged of the noisome heat. In these orchard fruits one may find also other aromatics, he says, "nard and crocus." But we have learned of the fragrance of nard in the preceding discourses; it remains, however, for us to show the enigmas of the crocus. Those, therefore, who have considered the virtue of this flower say that it possesses
a mean between cold and heat, and that it avoids immoderation in either direction; so that perhaps through this, A Scripture philosophizes about virtue in an enigma. For all virtue is a mean between evils, between the deficiency of the good and the excess. For example, they say that bravery and liberality are seen as a mean, the former between cowardice and rashness, the latter between stinginess and prodigality; and they say that cowardice and stinginess, by way of a deficiency of what is fitting, arise from vice, while prodigality and rashness do so by way of surplus and excess. But the mean of the moderation which is in both, they call virtue. Therefore, that which is said about the crocus, in as much as it pertains to virtue, has something consistent with the mediocrity of its power, as that which signifies that nothing is lacking or overflowing in virtue.
But I say that, even if what is said seems more simple and rustic, perhaps the enigma of the crocus is more aptly applied to the doctrine of the faith. For the flower is reared in a triple husk; and this husk itself is a flower in an aerial color. B But when the covering of the husks is removed, there are found altogether three flowers which are fragrant and useful for cures, covered by the husks, which in like manner and in the same way maintain themselves among themselves in beauty, magnitude, and good odor, and in the property of their power; and the three are shown to be one through all things, in the goodness of their color, the sweetness of their odor, and the quality of their power. To these are joined three others, yellow to the sight, but possessing no quality for any healthy use. From which it happens that it occurs to the inexpert to err, since, on account of their good color, they pluck the adulterated in place of the better. This is what those who err concerning the faith also do now, who receive all the false opinions fashioned by sophistic art and prefer them to sound dogmas. Let the judgment of the listener choose what it wishes, whether the one or both of these; for in a C certain way both are one: the acquisition of perfect virtue and of the Divinity. For virtue is not outside of the Divinity.
But let us pass on to the contemplation of the rest of the aromatics of which mention is made consecutively in the discourse. "Calamus," it says, "and cinnamon, and fruit." And the fruit are the produce which are brought forth from the pomegranates of the bride’s paradise. But they say that calamus excels the others in good odor, to such a degree that it is taken by the Law for the priestly incense; D while concerning cinnamon they say it promises a various and manifold operation through a certain natural faculty, of which many things seem to surpass belief. For they say that if this aromatic merely touches water boiling in a cauldron, it immediately cools the water, and when brought into a burning bath, it transforms the heat that is in the air into coolness, and has the nature of destroying those things which are generated
from corruption, and other similar things are told about it, which seem to be above the faith of their hearers. A For they say that if it is placed in the mouth of one who is sleeping, the sleeper is not hindered in the least from answering those who question him, but that he remains in his sleep and offers sober and articulate answers to the questions. It would be rash and incautious for one who has not learned by experience the truth of what is told about it to declare that these things are so. Nevertheless, since by a certain mystical reasoning this aroma has been reckoned into the number of the fruits—not that it truly grows from pomegranates (for the bride does not cast forth sensible paradises from her mouth), but so that by a process of deliberation it might suggest some meaning from among those things which contribute to the praise of the bride—I do not consider it right to reject the things that are told about cinnamon; these things, I say, which now seem to be pursued by those who relate them.
For from the things that are said, it seems that something can be conferred upon the praise of virtue, since each of the things related is taken to indicate the perfection of a life lived in accordance with virtue. B For in those who are learned and thoughtful, it is permitted to find the "cinnamon" in the soul, when a person, either burning with desire or inflamed with anger, has extinguished the disturbances of the mind by reason; or when, in the sleep of life, having in his mouth this sober cinnamon of reason, he displays a sense of these things that are said which is unerring and unconfused, imitating through the truth of the word the sleepless nature of the angels, whom no phantasy or vision necessarily causes to deviate from the truth. It may be said that from his mouth he pours forth cinnamon, through which the burning of desire and the boiling of anger around the heart is extinguished, and he is himself pure by reason from every confused vision that is like a dream. But let no one, in considering these unbelievable things that are said about cinnamon, reproach the discourse as if it were attributing praise to the bride from things that are not true. C For the holy Scripture is often accustomed to take up fables even from those outside to assist its own purpose, and without shame to mention certain names to indicate the proposed meaning more clearly, just as in the case of the daughters of Job, whose beauty the discourse praises beyond measure, and even indicates their excellent miracle through their names, saying that one is called Day, the other Cassia, and the third the Horn of Amalthea. D Now, it is clear to everyone that the Greek fable invented the story regarding Amalthea, whom, being a goat, they mythologize as having been the nurse of that Cretan; and when one of her horns had fallen off, the fable made an abundance of every kind of crop and fruit flow from the hollow. Did holy Scripture, therefore, believe the things that are told about Amalthea? By no means; but bearing witness to the daughters of Job, because they were most fertile in all...
things that are of virtue, it sets it forth through this name; so that those who listen to Scripture with discernment, understanding the scope of the praise solely from the name, may bid farewell to mythical fables. For we did not learn of aromatic substance when we heard A of "cassia" and "day," nor [did we learn of] the sun’s course above the earth through these names, but we say that these names contain an indication of their way of life according to virtue. For Cassia indicates the purer and sweet-smelling nature of their pursuits, while Day indicates seemliness, as the Apostle says, that those who live purely are called children of light and children of day.
Thus, then, even here, what is said about cinnamon B is not useless for the praise of the bride, if it is taken for the purpose of encomium by way of tropical exposition. He who has already become so great, and has attained to this height of encomiums through his life of virtue, demonstrates in himself through everything the characters of the divine image. For this is what he indicates by saying: *From all the trees of Lebanon*. For those who have observed such things say that the wood of Lebanon, from which frankincense flows, is not uniform, C but that there is a difference in the trees, which varies the form of the aroma along with the form of the wood. Therefore, he who denotes in himself what is godlike in all the pursuits of life, manifests in himself the beauty of all the trees of Lebanon, through which the divine form is characterized.
For no one becomes a partaker of God’s glory who has not first been made conformable to the likeness of His death. Therefore, the praise in the catalogue of aromatics also mentions this, that there are pomegranate fruits, and the rest of the aromatics D which the discourse has detailed, and with them also myrrh and aloes, and the "chief ointments." For by those, I mean myrrh and aloes, the fellowship of the burial is indicated—just as the sublime Gospel says that his burial was performed with these by Him who tasted death for us. But by the "chief ointments," the discourse indicates that which is pure and unmixed with any huckstering fraud, just as Amos also brings forward such things to those who indulge themselves with them, saying: *Those who drink strained wine, and anoint themselves with the chief ointments*; and before these: *Those who eat*, he says, *lambs from the flock, and sucking calves from the midst of the herds, and who applaud at the sound of the instruments—* so that neither does the dregs disturb the wine, nor does any mixture corrupt the purity of the sweet aroma in the ointment. But there, indeed, one must necessarily think that the prophecy rebukes the Israelites, because even though they possessed the pure word of Scripture, strained of all dregs, and having the unadulterated sweet scent of the ointments, and though they filled themselves entirely with the delights of spiritual fare, they derived no benefit at all from such delights; for their evil disposition transformed the clarity of the wine into a muddy perversion, and through the admixture of evil thoughts, caused it to lose the purity of the first ointments. Here, however, Scripture attributes to the bride pure and absolutely
A genuine dogmas, by the production of the fruits of the first ointments. But the bride did not stop at these things, nor did she refrain from stretching herself to higher things, nor did the Word refrain from assisting her in her ascent. For she from whose mouth there flow streams and paradises of spices, now herself becomes a fountain, watering the paradises that have sprung up from her; not as we have learned in the case of Paul and Apollos, where one planted and the other watered, but she performs both, simultaneously planting the paradises and watering them. Perhaps the praise contains an even more sublime meaning. For he calls her a fountain, not of some flowing stream, but of gardens; not as one sending forth some effusions of water, but as one springing forth and gushing out the gardens themselves. In this way the divine Apostle made animated gardens spring from those among whom he was, causing the paradise of the Church to grow B through his teaching.
Then the Word leads the bride to the highest point through these praises, by calling her a well of living water, and with the rushing of that which flows from Lebanon. For what we have learned from holy Scripture about the life-giving nature—now from the prophecy speaking in the person of God, that "Me they have forsaken, the fountain of living water," and again from the Lord speaking to the Samaritan woman: "If you knew the gift of God, and who it is who says to you, 'Give me a drink,' you would have asked him, and he would have given you living water"; and, "If any man thirst, let him come unto me and drink. He that believeth on me, as the Scripture hath said, out of his belly shall flow rivers of living water." This he spoke concerning the Spirit, which those who believe in him were to receive. Since, therefore, the divine nature is everywhere understood through the living water, here the truthful testimony of the Word establishes that the bride is a well of living water, whose flow is from Lebanon. C This is the most paradoxical thing of all. For while all wells have water that remains in a state of rest, only the bride has water within herself that is moving, so that she possesses the depth of a well, yet the perpetual motion of a river. For who could adequately capture in words the miracles that are pointed out through her assimilation to this state? Perhaps she no longer has anywhere higher to raise herself, having been assimilated in all things to the archetypal beauty. For she has imitated with accuracy: fountain with fountain, life with life, and water with water. The Word of God is living; the soul that has received the Word also lives. That water flows from God, as the Fountain says: "I proceeded and came forth from God." She herself contains Him who flows into the well of the soul, and therefore she becomes a reservoir of that living water which flows from Lebanon, or rather rushes, as the Scripture says. May we also be participants in this, possessing that well, so that according to the commandment of wisdom we may drink our own water, and not that of another. In Christ Jesus our Lord, to whom be glory for ever and ever. Amen.
HOMILY X.
A *Arise, O north wind, and come, O south, and blow through my garden, and let my ointments flow. Chap. 5. 1. Let my beloved come into his garden, and eat the fruit of his apple trees. I am come into my garden, my sister, my spouse, I have gathered my myrrh with my spices. I have eaten my bread with my honey, I have drunk my wine with my milk. Eat, O friends, and drink, and be inebriated, my brethren. 2. I sleep, and my heart watcheth.*
Since the contemplation and sequence of the divine words of the Song of Songs, proposed to us now, contains certain meanings—difficult to attain and hidden on account of their obscurity—within interior mysteries, there is need for greater attention on our part, or rather, for even greater assistance through prayers and the guidance of the Holy Spirit, that the same thing may not happen to us in these stupendous miracles as is wont to happen with the stars. For while we admire their beauty from afar, we can discover no rationale for knowing their creation, but we can only enjoy their beauty, because we confess that we are held by amazement at them. For there are, in truth, certain stars, the splendors and brightness of these divine utterances, shining forth and excelling the eyes of the soul just as the height of heaven excels the earth, as the Prophet says. But if it should happen to our soul what we hear happened to Elijah; and if our mind, having been B taken up in the fiery chariot, is borne aloft to the heavenly beauties (and we shall consider that fire to be the Holy Spirit, which the Lord came to cast upon the earth, which was divided in the form of tongues to the disciples), we shall not entirely despair of being able to draw near to these stars—I mean, to the divine meanings and intelligences which shine in our souls through the heavenly and spiritual utterances. For look with the eye of the soul—I speak to you, O listener—at the voice which was sent by the Lord to the patriarch. Look at this heaven, and see the stars, if you can measure the height of those very intelligences. Behold the power of the Queen, considering her authority from her commands, how great an authority is seen to be commanded by her in the things that are said. For she does not accomplish what she wills by prayer and petition, but in accordance with the voice of Him who promised, who says that the faithful and prudent steward is made lord C of all that the Lord has. Having received this power, like a queen she rules and directs the two winds as she sees fit: separating the north wind for herself, while inviting the south wind kindly, and urging it to come to her. The context of the text is thus: *Arise, O north wind, and come, O south.*
It is perhaps possible to find in the words of the centurion something else that has some kinship and connection with these things, which the Word of God Himself D
A admired, as the evangelist has narrated, saying: *And when Jesus heard it, he marveled, and set the voice of the centurion above the faith of Israel.* For it does not seem to me that the comparison in the argument of faith is made by the centurion with the Israelite people, but with Israel himself, who in his struggle with the adversary, even with the help of God, barely escaped falling, and did not escape the adversary entirely unharmed; for he received the injury in his thigh. But this centurion, of whom the discourse now speaks, by a certain royal power dismisses from his authority what is foreign, and takes into and admits to his own familiarity what is pleasing to him. For the man seems to be especially worthy of admiration on this account: that he says of the soldiers who are under his own power that he dismisses whomever he wishes with authoritative power, and calls the one he favors, and commands the ministering service that is due to the servant. For there is also a certain philosophy in the voice of the centurion, B in that he does not bring back to himself the one who has once been dismissed, but when he has departed, admits another in his stead. For when he has said, "Go, and he goes," he says he calls another, not the one he dismissed. The Word, I think, teaches such a dogma, that things which are opposed to one another do not have the nature to abide together in the same place. For there is no fellowship of light with darkness, says the Apostle; but it is absolutely necessary that when the darkness has retreated, the light be what is seen in its place, and when wickedness has been put out of the way, virtue be introduced in its stead; and when this has been rightly accomplished, the wisdom of the flesh no longer resists the spirit. For its power to resist being dead, it cannot resist, but becomes fit and ready for every proper service, C being obedient and subject to the dominion of the spirit. For when the soldier who is an ally of wickedness has been driven out, and the soldier of virtue has entered in his place, clothed with the breastplate of righteousness, and carrying the sword of the spirit in his hand, and shielding himself with the protection of his armor—namely, the helmet of salvation and the shield of faith—and carrying all the spiritual panoply within himself, then the servant, who is the body, fears its master, the mind, and promptly and eagerly accepts the commands of the one who rules, by which virtue is successfully accomplished through the ministry of the body. For this is indicated by the centurion’s word when he says: *And I say to my servant, Do this, and he does it.*
But let us hear how the Queen causes the North wind to arise from her, turning its breath in the opposite direction. For she does not command it to be still, just as the Lord in the tempest of the sea commanded the storm to be silent, ordering silence to the waves; but she commands it to depart and flee, so that the South wind may flow unhindered, with no contrary blast obstructing its course. D *Arise*, it says. What then is
A the reason for the departure of this wind? The word of the Proverb says that it is a hard and harsh wind. By name, however, it is called "dexter" [right-hand]; but the North wind is not "right" to anyone, unless someone has the East behind him, performing his course toward the West. You certainly understand the enigma of what is said, that he who has departed from the East (for thus Christ is named by B the prophecy) and drives himself toward the sunset, where the power of darkness is, has the North wind on his right, receiving him with wicked insults, through which the course toward darkness is completed. Thus the unchaste and intemperate man finds the North wind to be on his right, conspiring with his passion and the perturbation of disgrace. Thus this spirit of wickedness becomes a "right hand" to the greedy man, when it heaps up for him the materials of greed as if it were some sand or dust. Thus, providing its help to each of his sins, it becomes "dexter"—an adept, that is, for whatever he may become. Being hard by nature, but C concealing its hardness behind pleasures, for this reason it banishes the North wind from its own domain, which had gained mastery over the perturbations of the soul and the vices, saying to the North wind: *Arise*. That by this name an opposing power is signified would be evident to anyone who has considered the nature of visible things. For who does not know the movement of the sun, that, performing its course from the East through the South, it declines toward the West? And the shape of the earth being spherical, as those who have studied such things say, the part of it that is illuminated by the sun is necessarily D darkened on the opposite side, as it is shadowed by the obstruction of that which is in the middle. Since, therefore, that place perpetually remains lacking light and cold, as it is neither illuminated nor warmed by the rays of the sun, for this reason the Word names the prince of the power of darkness, who makes the soft nature of souls, like water, to congeal and renders it hard, the "hard North wind," the bringer of the winter of sorrow, in which the Gospel says it is impossible by any means to flee the dangers. For in it the beauty of those who flourish in virtue withers away.
Rightly, then, does the voice of the queen expel him by her authority; but she summons the meridional [southern] wind, which is warm and always luminous, which she calls the South wind, through which the torrent of delights flows, saying: *And come, South wind, blow through my garden, and let my spices flow*, so that with the violent breath—just as we heard happened in the upper room to the disciples—it might fall upon the living plants, move the plantation of God toward the production of spices, and cause the odorous prophecy and the saving dogmas of the faith to flow through the mouth, pouring forth the sweet scent of the teachings through every kind of tongue without hindrance. Thus the one hundred and twenty disciples, who are planted in the house of God, by the breath of such a South wind, caused the teaching which is handed down through languages to flourish. Therefore, then, the bride says to this South wind: Per-
A *Blow upon my garden.* Since she became a mother of gardens by the voice of the Bridegroom who made her, as the narrative concerning the garden and the fountain contains. For which reason she desires her garden, namely the Church, which teems with animate trees, to be breathed upon, so that aromatics may flow from them. For the Prophet says: *His spirit shall blow, and the waters shall flow.* But the bride, adorned with royal riches, changes the currents to a greater magnitude and magnificence, making rivers of aromatics flow forth from the trees of the garden by the force of the Spirit; so that through this we may learn the difference between the Old Testament and the New: that the prophetic river was filled with waters, but the evangelical river with aromatics. Such a river of aromatics, flowing from the garden of the Church through the Spirit, was the great Paul, whose current was the good odor of Christ. Such another was John, Luke, Matthew, Mark, and all the rest, the noble plants of the garden of the bride, who, having been breathed upon by that bright B midday South wind, became fountains of aromatics, sending forth the good odor of the Gospels.
*Let my kinsman descend,* she says, *into his garden, and let him eat the fruit of his fruit-trees.* O voice uttered with boldness! O soul liberal and splendid, surpassing every greatness of magnanimity! Whom does she welcome to a feast with her own fruits? For whom does she prepare the banquet through her own goods? Whom does she call to the eating of things prepared? Him from whom are all things, and through whom are all things, and in whom are all things; who gives food to all in due season, who opens his hand and fills every living creature with favor, the bread that descends from heaven and gives life to the world, who causes life to flow and issue forth for all things that exist from his own fountain; to this one the bride sets a table. The garden is the table, planted with animate trees. C And we are the trees, since we are those who also set before him food—the salvation of our own souls—since he who welcomes our soul to a feast has said thus: *My food is to do the will of my Father.* And the goal of the divine will is manifest, which desires all men to be saved and to come to the knowledge of the truth. This, therefore, is the food prepared for him: that we should be saved. Our fruit becomes the choice of free will, handing over the soul to God who reaps us, as if by some branch. By these things, however, it must be seen that the bride is first sweetened by the fruit of the apple, having said, *And his fruit is sweet in my throat,* and then the fruit itself becomes both ripe and sweetening, and is set before the husbandman for his joy. The term *Let descend* has the meaning of a wish, uttered in the same way as *Hallowed be thy name,* and *Thy will be done.* For as D the structure of those expressions there contains the meaning of a wish, so also here that
A *Let him descend* is a prayer of the Bride, demonstrating to God the abundance of the fruits of virtue. But the descent signifies the work of loving-kindness and charity toward men. For since it is impossible to be taken up to the Most High in any other way, unless the Lord—who takes up the meek—should incline himself toward humility and lowliness, for this reason the soul ascending to the heights, invoking the guidance from the One who is above, prays that He might descend from His own greatness, so that He might be reachable to those who are below. But He who said through the prophet: *While you are still speaking, I am here,* heard what she asked before the prayer of the bride had fully gone forth, and He paid attention to the preparation of her heart; and He was in the garden which had been fanned by the South wind, and He plucked the fruits of the spices, and He was filled with the fruits of virtue, and He made the feast a narrative, saying B thus to the bride: *I have descended to my garden, my sister, my bride. I have reaped my myrrh with my spices. I have eaten my bread with my honey. I have drunk my wine with my milk. Eat, my neighbors, and drink, and be inebriated, my brothers.*
Do you see how He surpasses the request with the magnitude of the gift? The bride prayed that there might be for her fountains of spices, that her plants in the garden might be fanned by the South wind blowing from the meridian, and that the husbandman might be greeted by the fruit of the orchard. Now it is clear to everyone that every good scent becomes a pleasure for the sense of smell. But fruit is for the eating of a weaker virtue than bread is, as far as concerns the good condition of those nourished. But He, having descended into His own garden, and having transformed the nature of the fruits into what is greater and more precious, indeed plucks from the garden the myrrh found with its spices. For from Him is whatever is beautiful and good, in whatever place it may be found, as the prophetic word has proclaimed. Instead of the orchard fruits, He causes the trees to produce bread mixed with His own honey. And let the prophetic word be echoed by this, that His is the honey, just as [it is] also the rest of the others, and the wine is drawn from them, C tempered with His own milk. *For from Him, and through Him, and into Him are all things.* O blessed gardens, whose plants are testified to produce such fruits, that they are transformed accordingly into every kind of nourishment for the desire of enjoyment! For to him whose delight is in the sweet scent, it becomes myrrh, by the deadening of earthly members, refining life like an ointment, pure and sweet-smelling, tempered from the various and diverse spices of virtue. But to him who seeks more perfect nourishment, it becomes bread, no longer eaten with wild bitter herbs, as the Law commands—for in the present life there is the bitterness of the wild lettuce—but the honey will become a relish for him, when in its own time the fruit of virtue sweetens the faculties of the soul, a proof of which is the bread that appeared D to the disciples after the Lord's resurrection, with the honeycomb of the
A gift of the Spirit. But for him who thirsts, it becomes a crater of wine and milk, not a sponge soaked in gall and vinegar, which the Hebrews, while displaying their kindness to their benefactor, offered to Him upon a reed. We are not, however, ignorant of the enigmas of these words: namely, how Paul was a myrrh-bearing tree, dying daily, and giving to himself the sentence of death, and by purity and a divine regulation of life, perfuming himself and becoming a sweet savor of life to those who are being saved; and how the living plants of the garden make bread for the Lord of the garden, as He who sits upon the throne testifies, saying: "I was hungry, and you gave me to eat." For benefaction is the bread of gladness, sweetened by the honey of the commandment; and how, again, the thriving plants of the garden provide drink for the Bridegroom, to whom He says: "I was thirsty, and you gave me drink," mixing the wine with milk, not with water, after the custom of tavern-keepers. For milk is the first nourishment of human nature, pure and simple, truly childlike and guileless, and purged of every cause of wickedness. B
Having said these things to the Bride, the Word sets the mysteries of the Gospel before those who are near, saying: "Eat, my neighbors, and drink, and be inebriated, my brothers." For to him who understands the mystical voices of the Gospel, there will appear no difference between the words here and the mystagogy delivered there to the disciples—namely, the institution of the mysteries or sacraments. For in both places, the Scripture says "Eat and drink." Yet the exhortation to drunkenness which the Scripture here makes to the brethren might appear to many to contain something more than the Gospel. But if this be examined diligently and accurately, it will be found to be in agreement with the evangelical words. C For what He here commanded His friends by word, He there accomplished by deed; since all drunkenness is wont to cause the mind to suffer an ecstasy, overcome by wine. Therefore, what is here exhorted is what was brought about then—and is brought about always—by that divine food and drink, with the change and ecstasy from worse things to those which are better accompanying the food and the drink. Thus do they become inebriated, as the prophecy says, who drink from the abundance of God's house and are given to drink by the torrent of delight. Just as the great David was once inebriated, when, going out of himself and entering into ecstasy, he saw the beauty that does not fall under sight, and exclaimed that celebrated voice: "Every man is a liar," entrusting the interpretation to the utterance of unutterable treasures. In this way, our new Benjamin, Paul, was also inebriated when he was in ecstasy, saying: "Whether we have been beside ourselves, it is for God" (for the ecstasy was toward Him), "or whether we are sober, it is for you"; as he showed in his words to Festus, declaring that he was not mad, but was speaking words of sobriety and justice. I also know the blessed Peter in such a form of drunkenness D
A in this kind of drunkenness, being at once hungry and inebriated. For before the corporal nourishment was brought to him, when he became hungry and wanted to taste, those who were preparing the table for him, there occurred to him that divine and sober drunkenness, by which he goes out of himself, and contemplates the evangelical sheet, let down from on high to the earth by four corners, containing within itself all the human race in countless forms of birds, four-footed animals, and reptilian beasts, adorned according to the diversity of their various cults and superstitions. From these, the Word commands Peter to sacrifice that which is brutish and devoid of reason, so that when they are purified, what remains may be edible, when the naked word of piety is handed down, since the divine voice did not say just once that what God has cleansed is not unclean. This proclamation having been made three times, so that with one voice we might learn that God who cleanses is the Father, and in another likewise that the God who cleanses is the only-begotten Son of God, and in the other similarly, that the God who cleanses all that is unclean is the Holy Spirit. B Since, therefore, such is the drunkenness from the wine which the Lord sets before the guests, through which there occurs an ecstasy of the soul toward things more divine, the Lord rightly commands those who are near through virtues, not those who stand far off: "Eat, my neighbors, and drink and be inebriated." For he who eats and drinks unworthily, eats and drinks judgment to himself. But he rightly called those who are worthy to eat, brethren. For he who does the will of the Father is named by the Word brother, and mother, and sister.
C Drunkenness is consequently followed by sleep, so that by digestion the power might be given to the guests for a good disposition in assimilating foods. Therefore, after that feast, the bride is held by sleep. But this sleep is strange, and far removed from natural custom. For in customary sleep, he who sleeps does not wake, and he who wakes does not sleep, but both end into one another, namely sleep and wakefulness succeeding one another and approaching each one in turn. But here a new and admirable mixture and union of contraries is discerned concerning her. "For I," she says, "sleep, and my heart wakes." What opinion, therefore, ought one to take concerning these things? Sleep is a likeness of death. D For in it every sentient operation of the bodies is dissolved, since neither sight, nor hearing, nor smell, nor taste, nor touch performs its own function during the time of sleep: but the powers of the body are also broken; it also produces forgetfulness of the anxieties and cares that are in man, soothes fear, and softens anger, and relaxes the vehemence of those who are of a sharp and embittered spirit, and causes a lack of sensation of all evils as long as it dominates the body. We learn this, therefore, through the things that have been said, that she who boasts so magnificently and says: "I sleep, and my heart wakes," has become higher than herself. For truly, in those things where the mind lives by itself,
A the nature of the body is held as if in a kind of sleep and stupor, without being disturbed by any of the senses; and it can truly be said that sight sleeps through cessation from its work, for those spectacles that are wont to bring stupor to the eyes of children are held in contempt. I do not mean only those things that are of earthly substance—such as gold and silver, and those stones whose fine color stirs greed in the eyes—but also the miracles that move in the heavens: the radiance of the stars, the circle of the sun, the multifaceted form of the moon, and whatever else brings pleasure to the eyes, for the reason that nothing remains perpetually, but is moved and changes along with the passage of time and the measurement of the seasons. B All these things having been despised on account of the contemplation of the true goods, the eye of the body is idle, since the perfection of the soul is not drawn to any of the things shown by it, for the reason that it looks with the mind only at those things which surpass visible things. Thus hearing also becomes, as it were, dead and inactive, while the soul is occupied with things beyond reason.
As for the more beast-like senses, it is not even worth speaking of them, for they are cast off far from the soul, just like some death-dealing stench; and smelling, which tracks down odors, and taste, which sits in servitude to the belly, and furthermore touch, that servile and blind instrument of sensing, which nature perhaps created only for the blind—all these, C just as if held fast by sleep through their inactivity, leave the operation of the heart pure, and the reasoning faculty looks upward, remaining unechoing and untroubled by sensory movement. For since there is a double pleasure in human nature—one which is exercised in the soul through dispassion, and the other through passion in the body—whichever one the will chooses from between the two has mastery over the other. For he who looks toward sense-perception, being drawn by the pleasure that is naturally inborn in the body, will live without tasting divine joy, because that which is more excellent is wont to be obscured by the inferior. But for those whose desire has an inclination toward the Divine, to them the Good remains not wrapped in darkness, and whatever beguiles and deceives the sense as if by some magic spells is considered worthy of flight. D Therefore, when the soul is delighted with the contemplation of the Existent alone, it is said to be awake to none of those things that happen according to pleasure through sense; but having lulled every bodily movement to sleep, with a bare and pure mind it receives the manifestation of God through divine wakefulness. May we also be deemed worthy to attain this, by correctly performing the wakefulness of the soul through the aforementioned sleep. In Christ Jesus, to whom be glory for ever and ever. Amen.
HOMILY XI
Vox patruelis mei pulsat ad ostium. *Voice of my kinsman knocking at the door. Open to me, my sister, my neighbor, my dove, my perfect one: for my head is filled with dew, and my locks with the drops of the night.* 3. I have put off my tunic
how shall I put it on? I have washed my feet, how shall I defile them? 4. My kinsman sent his hand through the hole, and my heart was moved for him. B This also is one of the great commandments of the Lord, by which the mind of those who are disciples to the Word, having shaken off from itself, as it were, all the earthly dust of nature, is raised to the desire of things above. And this is that they who look toward the higher life must be stronger than sleep, and must wake perpetually in their minds, driving away from their eyes that which is a certain deceiver of souls and an insidious enemy of the truth—that sleep and slumber, I say, by which those who are deeply immersed in the error of life are fashioned with these dream-like phantasms: namely, magistracies, riches, pride, the illusions of pleasure, the desire for glory, the craving to enjoy delights, ambition, and whatsoever in this life is vainly pursued with vehement eagerness by those who are less circumspect. These things are fleeting, along with the nature of time that slips and passes away, and they have their essence in the mere fact that they appear to be, so that they are neither what they are thought to be, nor do they remain permanently in that which they are thought to be; but they seem to come into being and perish C at the same time, like waves that rise into a crest in the waters, being swollen for a time by the motion of the winds, possessing no firm or stable duration of their tumidity, as they who, having risen together in a brief moment of time, again present the flat and level surface of the sea, as they who have failed at the same time as the breath of wind. Therefore, so that our mind may be far from visions of this kind, he commands that this heavy sleep be shaken from the eyes of the mind, lest, while we bestow effort upon things that are not, we fall away from those things which consist and truly are. And for this reason he warns us to be vigilant, saying: "Let your loins be girded, and your lamps burning in your hands."* For the light appearing to the eyes drives sleep from them; and the loin girt by the belt makes the body unable to admit sleep, as the sense of labor does not admit the relaxation of sleep. Moreover, the things signified by the enigmas are altogether manifest: namely, that he who is girt with temperance lives D in the light of a pure conscience, while the lamp illuminates the present life, through which, when truth appears, the soul remains sleepless and by no means subject to deception, and shares in the fallacy of none of these dreams. But that this may be rightly performed in accordance with the explanation of the Word, a certain angelic life receives us. For the divine commandment likens us to these things, when it says: "And you yourselves [are] like to men waiting for their lord, when he shall return from the weddings, that when he comes and knocks, they may open to him immediately."* For they are those who wait for the Lord's return from the weddings, and sit by the heavenly gates with watching eyes, so that through them again [they may enter...].
into that super-celestial blessedness. Whence, according to the psalmody, as a bridegroom coming forth from his chamber, He betrothed unto Himself us, the Church, through the mystical regeneration—we who had played the harlot with idols—having transformed our nature into virginal incorruption. Now that the weddings were consummated and the Church betrothed by the Word, as John says, "He who has the bride is the bridegroom," and she having been admitted into the bridal chamber of the mysteries and the sacraments, the angels awaited the return of the King, the Church having been restored to the blessedness that is according to nature. To these, then, He said that our life ought to be similar, so that just as they, living their lives far from vice and error, are prepared to receive the arrival of the Lord, so we too, sitting by the vestibules of our dwellings, may make ourselves ready to obey when He arrives and knocks at the door. "For blessed," He says, "are those servants whom, when the Lord comes, He shall find doing so."
B Since, therefore, it is a blessed thing to obey Him who knocks, for this cause the soul that perpetually gazes toward blessedness, diligently keeping watch over its own treasures, perceives the Bridegroom standing at the door and says: "The voice of my brother knocks at the door." How could anyone worthily contemplate the ascent of the bride to things more divine? She, who with such freedom and confidence banished that harsh North wind from herself and drew the luminous Spirit to herself; she who produces gardens through her mouth, the fruits of which were aromas; she who set her garden as a table before the Lord of creation, of which nothing that was set out appeared to be rejected, but all was testified to be beautiful and good—the myrrh, the aroma, the bread with honey, the wine with milk—to whom the Word Himself gave testimony, saying: "You are altogether fair, and there is no blemish in you." She is now so disposed, as if she were about C to receive the apparition of God for the first time, and as if she had not yet admitted and brought in the Word who stands before the doors, she marvels at the power of the voice; for this reason she says that the voice of the Bridegroom touches not her, but the door itself. For she says: "The voice of my brother knocks at the door."
Do you see how the path for those ascending to God is undefined; how that which is always attained becomes the beginning of the higher? For we had hoped, through those things said regarding it, that there was some resting point in the journey of the ascent toward the heights. For what more would one seek after the testimony of perfection? For we see her still remaining within, and not yet having gone outside the doors of her being, nor having enjoyed the delight of the face-to-face vision, but still being led through hearing toward the participation in good things. This, then, we learn through the [things D said, that for those who advance toward greater things,]
A the voice of the Apostle is appropriate, saying: *If anyone thinks that he knows anything, he does not yet know as he ought to know.* (1 Cor. viii, 2) For the soul knew Him in what had already been attained only so far as it had grasped. But since that which is not yet grasped is infinitely greater than what has been grasped, for this reason the Bridegroom has appeared often to the soul, and as if he had not yet been seen by its eyes, he promises through his voice that he will be seen by the Bride. And in order that the meaning may be clearer to us, I will add to the discourse a certain image by way of an example. For just as if someone were near that fountain which Scripture said at the beginning to ascend from the earth (Gen. ii, 10), which is so great in its multitude that it encompasses the whole earth, seeing that infinite water which flows and pours out from it entirely, he would not say that he had seen all the water. For how could he see what is hidden in the bosom of the earth? So that even if he remains for a long time at the gushing water, he is always at the beginning of the contemplation of the water. For the water does not cease, being always flowing and always beginning to gush forth. So too he who looks toward that divine and invisible beauty, B since what is always being found is seen to be entirely newer and more wonderful than what has already been grasped, he indeed marvels at what is always appearing, but he never desists from the desire of seeing, because that which is expected becomes more divine and magnificent than whatever is seen. For this reason, then, the Bride here too, always marveling and struck with wonder at what is known, never halts the desire of her contemplation in the things that are already known. Because of which, even now, she perceives the Word as still knocking at the door, and she rises to the hearing and says: *The voice of my kinsman knocks at the door.* Then, having given rest and silence to her hearing, she hears the Word resonating with his voice; and the word is such: *Open to me, my sister, my neighbor, my dove, my perfect one: for my head is filled with dew, and my locks with the drops of the night.* One may grasp the meaning of this by contemplation. C To the great Moses, the appearance of God began through light; after this, God speaks to him through a cloud. Then, having become already more sublime and perfect, he sees God in the darkness. Now what we learn through this is of such a kind: the first withdrawal from the false and erroneous opinions about God is the transition from darkness to light. The nearer consideration of hidden things, which leads the soul through the things that are seen toward the nature that does not fall under sight, becomes like a certain cloud, overshadowing everything visible, but leading the soul and accustoming it to look toward the hidden. The soul that makes its way through these things toward the heights, having left behind everything which human nature can attain, moves within the sanctuaries of the knowledge of God, intercepted on every side by the divine darkness: in which, with everything that is seen and grasped being left outside, there remains for the soul’s contemplation only that which is not beheld
A and is incomprehensible, in which God is, as the discourse says concerning the Lawgiver: *And Moses entered into the darkness where God was* 31.
Now that these things have been contemplated by us in this way, we must also consider the connection and affinity of the words set before us with those that have been said. There was a time when the bride was black, darkened by unilluminated dogmas, when the sun had looked upon her B—the sun which burns up the seed that has no roots upon the rock—through temptations; when, having been overcome by those who fought against her, she did not guard her own vineyard; because, not knowing herself, she pastured the flocks of kids instead of sheep. But after she had separated herself from union with evil, and had desired, by means of that mystical kiss, to bring her mouth to the fountain of light, then she becomes beautiful, illuminated by the light of the truth and washed clean of the blackness of ignorance by the water. Then she is likened to a horse because of its swiftness of running, and to a dove because of the speed of the mind. By these things—having run through everything that is grasped and seen as a horse, and having flown across it as a dove—she first C rests with desire in the shadow of the apple, naming as an apple, instead of a cloud, that which casts a shadow; but now she is already encompassed by the divine night, in which the bridegroom draws near, yet does not appear. For how could that which is not seen appear in the night? But he provides the soul with a certain sense of his presence, yet escapes clear comprehension by the mind, being hidden by the invisibility of his nature. What, then, is the initiation that comes to the soul through this night? The Word knocks at the door. By the door we understand the speculative mind concerning D mysteries, through which that which is sought is introduced. The truth, therefore, standing outside our nature through knowledge in part, as the Apostle 32 says, knocks at the door of the mind in certain surmises and riddles, saying: *Open*; and with an exhortation it suggests the manner in which it is proper to open the door, as if holding out certain keys—these beautiful names—through which that which is closed is opened. For the implications of these names are clearly keys, which open what is hidden—sister, and neighbor, and dove, and perfect. For if you wish, it says, for the door to be opened for you, and for the gates of your soul to be lifted up so that the King of glory may enter, it is necessary for you to become my sister, by receiving my will into your soul, just as He says in the Gospel that he who lives in His will becomes His brother and sister. You must also draw near to the truth and become a neighbor, so that you are separated by no intermediary, and have perfection in the nature of the dove: and this is to be lacking in nothing and to be filled with all innocence and purity. Having received these names, O soul, as if they were keys, open through them an entrance for the truth, having become a sister and a neighbor and a dove and perfect. And there shall be of yours...
31 Exod. XXIV, 18. 32 1 Cor. XIII, 12.
A the profit from having admitted me and having taken me in, the dew from my head of which I am full, and the drops of the nights which flow down from my curls. We learned clearly from the prophet that this dew is a healing, for he says: *The dew that is from you is a healing for them*. And the drops of the night follow the meaning that was considered just before. For it is not possible for one who has entered into the holy of holies B of those things which transcend human powers, and do not fall under contemplation, to arrive at any downpour or torrent of knowledge. But it is a blessed thing if the Truth sprinkles its knowledge upon our faint and dim thoughts, through the holy and God-inspired flowing down of the rational drop. For I think the curls hanging from the head of the universe are figuratively called prophets and evangelists and apostles, each of whom, drawing as much as they were able from the dark C and secret and invisible treasures, becomes for us rivers; but in relation to the Truth itself, they are dewy drops, even if they flood in the multitude and magnitude of their teaching. Such a river was Paul, who, rising above the heaven with the waves of his thoughts up to the third heaven, up to paradise, up to words secret and ineffable 33, and overflowing widely through all such grandeur of teaching, again shows by his words that this discourse is like a drop of dew, if it is compared with the Word that is, when he says: *We know in part, and we prophesy in part 34;* and: *If anyone thinks he knows anything, he does not yet know how he ought to know 35;* and: *I do not count myself to have attained 36.* If, therefore, the moisture of the dew, and the drop of the curls, appear to be rivers and seas and waves when measured by our powers, what must we think of that Fountain D who said: *If anyone thirsts, let him come to me and drink 37*? Let each of those who hear take a conjecture of the miracle in proportion to what has been said. For if a drop sufficed for the generating of a river, what must be estimated to be the River of God itself, judged by this drop?
The bride’s obedience to the Word
Let us see also how the bride obeys the Word, how she opens the entrance to the bridegroom. I have put off, she says, my tunic; how shall I put it on? I have washed my feet; how shall I defile them? She rightly listened to him who commanded her to become a sister and a neighbor, and a dove and perfect, so that through these things the Truth might be brought into her soul. For she did what she heard, having put off that tunic of skin which she put on after sin, and having washed from her feet that earthly filth in which she had been enfolded, having returned to the earth from the life she had lived in paradise, since she heard 38: *You are earth, and to earth you shall return.* For this reason she opened the entrance to the soul for the Word, the veil of the heart—that is, of the flesh—having been drawn aside. And when I say flesh, I refer to the old man, whom, in order that they may strip him off
A and cast him aside, the divine Apostle exhorts all those who are to wash away the filth from the soles of their soul in the laver of the Word. Having thus stripped off the old man and B drawn aside the veil of the heart, the soul has opened an entrance to the Word, who, having entered within, becomes her garment, in accordance with the instruction of the Apostle, who commands him who has stripped himself of the fleshly covering of the old man to put on the tunic created according to God in holiness and justice (Eph. 4:24). He says that Jesus is the garment. The profession of the spouse, that she will no longer take up again the tunic that has been cast aside, but is content with the one tunic—in accordance with the law given to the disciples, which the soul, having been renewed through the birth from above, has put on—confirms the word of the Lord, who commands those who have once been adorned with the divine garment no longer to put on the tunic of sin, nor to have two tunics, but one only, so that there may not be two tunics incompatible with each other around the same person. For what fellowship has a dark and shadowy garment with one that is luminous and immaterial? Nor does the law say only this, that one ought not to have two tunics, but neither to sew a new piece of cloth onto an old garment, so that the deformity of one who dresses in such a way may not become worse, neither with the new patch remaining, nor the ancient garment suffering a rent that is worse and difficult to heal. For it says that the new fullness removes that of the old, and a worse rent is made, so that through it the shames are laid bare. Therefore she says: "I have put off my tunic, how shall I put it on?" (Cant. 5:3). For who, having seen C around him the sun-bright tunic of the Lord, which was cast about Him through purity and incorruption—such as He showed on the mount of the Transfiguration—then would willingly consent to put on for himself the poor and ragged garment, such as the drunkard and the fornicator—as the proverb says—is clothed in? But neither, having washed her feet, does she again admit the filth of the earth through walking. "For I have washed my feet," she says, "how shall I defile them?" For even Moses, when at the divine command he had freed his feet from the covering of dead skins, when he was ascending the holy and illuminated ground, is not recorded as having again covered his feet with shoes; neither, when he was fashioning the priestly garment according to the pattern shown on the mount, blending D in the weaving the splendors of gold, and purple, and fine linen, and hyacinth, and scarlet, so that the beauty compounded of all might shine forth, did he craft any ornament for the feet, but the adorning of the priestly foot was to be naked of all covering, and free. For it is necessary that the priest should always tread upon holy ground, upon which it is not lawful to tread with dead skins. For this reason the Lord also forbids shoes to the disciples, since He commands them not to journey on the way of the nations, but to proceed along the holy way. You are certainly not unaware
B of what is declared by these things, namely that she who has once cast off her shoes through baptism—for it is the proper work of the one who baptizes to loosen the thongs of the shoes, as John testified, not being able to do this in the case of the Lord alone; for how could he have loosened the thong for Him who was not bound from the beginning by the thong of sin?—she, having washed her feet and shaken off every earthly defilement along with her shoes, keeps her footing undefiled upon the paved path, just as David did when, having washed away the filth of the mud, he set his own feet upon the rock, speaking thus to the Word: "He brought me up out of the pit of misery, and from the miry clay, and set my feet upon a rock, and directed my steps" (Ps. XXXIX, 3). By the rock we understand the Lord, who is light, truth, immortality, and righteousness, by which the spiritual way is paved. He who does not turn aside from these to either side preserves his soles pure, nowhere polluted by the mud of pleasure. These are, in my judgment, the things through which the door is opened to the Word by the bride. For that very confession, by which she promises that she will no longer take up that shaken-off mud, nor, in walking through this life, admit earthly defilement, is the approach to sanctification for a soul prepared in this way. And the sanctification is the Lord Himself. And this is the meaning of the words.
C But again, after this, the soul attempts a further ascent, no longer with a voice knocking at the door of the heart, but with the divine hand itself penetrating through the opening into the interior. "For my kinsman," she says, "sent his hand through the opening, and my belly was moved for him." Anyone who prudently listens to these things can fully perceive how much more sublime these things are than the former. When the Word says to the bride, "Open," He grants her the power to open through divine senses. The bride obeys the Word, for she becomes what she hears—sister, neighbor, dove, and perfect; she puts off that tunic of skin, washes away the filth of her feet, and neither puts on that ugly and tattered garment again for herself, nor does she henceforth plant her footsteps upon the earth. She heard, therefore, His voice, and obeys the command, she opens the door and, with the
door, the veil of the flesh, and the whole gate of the soul was opened so that the King of glory might enter. But the width of the gate was shown to be some small, narrow, and brief slit, through which not the Bridegroom Himself, but His hand, hardly passed so that it might enter through it, and touch her who desired to see the Bridegroom, by which she gained only so much as to know that that hand belonged to the Beloved. What kind of doctrines are indicated to us through this, we might learn from the philosophy contained in these words, if we dwell a little on the discourse. The human soul is on the boundary of two natures, of which the one is incorporeal, intellectual, and incorruptible; but the other is bodily, material, and irrational. B When it is for the first time cleansed from the habit that characterizes the dense and earthly life, and looks up through virtue to that which is kindred and most divine, it does not cease to investigate and search for the beginning of things that exist: what is the source of the beauty of things that exist, from where does that power flow, what is that which causes the wisdom visible in things that exist to gush forth. Mobilizing all reasonings and every power searching out intellectual things, and examining carefully to grasp the object of its search, it sets as the limit of the comprehension of God only that operation which descends to us, which we perceive through life. And just as the breath that is given off alongside the water from the earth does not remain at the bottom of the lake, but becomes a bubble and runs upward to that which is joined to it by kinship, and when it passes through the surface at the edge of the water, and is mixed with the air, then it stops rising; C just such a thing happens also to the soul that investigates divine things. Once it stretches itself out from things below toward the knowledge of things above, having grasped the miracles of His operation, it cannot proceed further through inquisitiveness; but it marvels and reveres Him—the fact that He is—solely through those things by which He is known in His operation. It sees the heavenly beauty, the rays of the luminaries, the swift revolution of the pole, the orderly and harmonious movement among the stars, the yearly cycle returning upon itself in four seasons; the earth being ordered together with that which encompasses it, and changing its own operations along with the difference of the movement of the things above; the multiform natures among living creatures, both of those dwelling in the waters, and of those that have been allotted movement in the air, and those whose life is on land; and the all-varied forms of plants, and the diverse grasses, differing from one another in quality, power, and shape, and the properties of fruits and juices, and the other things by which the operation of God is demonstrated; and as the soul looks upon these, through the miracle of visible things it perceives in its intellect Him who is understood through His works that He is. Perhaps, however, in the age to come, when all that is seen has passed away, according to the voice of the Lord, who says: Heaven and earth shall pass away, but my words shall not pass away, and we have crossed over to that life,
and which surpasses sight, and hearing, and thought: then we shall no longer know the nature of the Good in part through the operation of the things that are seen, as is now the case, nor will that which is transcendent be understood by the operation of those things which appear; but the form of the ineffable blessedness A will be grasped in an altogether different way, and there will be another manner of enjoyment, whose nature is not such as to ascend into the heart of man at present. For the time being, however, this limit of such knowledge has been set for our soul, namely, His operation, which appears in created things—that which we have understood to be called, tropically, a "hand." This dogma, therefore, has been philosophically expounded to us through these divine utterances, by means of which the pure soul, no longer setting foot upon the earthly and material life, lest it defile its own footsteps by persisting in things below, and expecting that the Bridegroom would enter the house entirely, thought it a great boon if it could but see through the B window the hand by which His operating power is understood. "My kinsman," she says, "sent His hand through the opening." For human power cannot contain within itself the infinite and incomprehensible nature. "But my belly," she says, "was moved for Him." That word "moved" signifies a certain stupor and admiration at the miracle that appeared. For her entire faculty of thought and understanding was moved at the miracle of those things which are brought to pass by the divine hand; the contemplation of which, surpassing human nature, interprets of itself that the nature of Him who operates can neither be comprehended nor contained. For the whole creation of existing things is the work of that hand which appeared through the opening, as John cries out in the Gospel, and the prophet chimes in with him. For the one says, "All things were made by Him." And the prophet designates the hand as the power that makes existing things, saying, "My hand has made all these things." If, therefore, the human C mind, even in searching, has not yet comprehended the works of that operation, and all other things, and the heavenly beauties—what man is according to his essence, or the sun, or any other of the miracles that appear in the creation—for this reason the heart is moved toward the divine operation; for if it cannot contain these, how shall it comprehend the nature that transcends them? Perhaps, however, some other person, taking the enigmas of what has been said in another sense, will advance a contemplation not far removed from what is probable.
I think that by the house of the bride, the entire human life is to be understood; and that this hand, the creator of all D things, having as it were undertaken a journey into the small and mean human life, contracted itself, by participating in our nature in all things, except sin. Therefore, after it had come to us, it caused a certain consternation and admiration at the newness of the thing, as to how God is manifested in flesh; how the Word becomes flesh;
how a birth can fall into virginity (or virginity into the mother); A how light is mingled with darkness, and life is tempered with death; how the tiny orifice of this life can contain that Hand which holds all things, by which the whole heaven is measured, and by which all the earth and all the water are encompassed? It is reasonable, then, that the grace of the Gospel should be prophetically signified to us by the Bride through the enigma of the hand. For when the Lord was seen upon the earth and walked among men, we recognized the pure and immaterial beauty of the Bridegroom, and the divinity of the Word, and the radiance of the true light, through that "hand" of his operations. For by the hand we understand his power, which brings miracles to effect, through which the dead were brought to life, the eyes of the blind were restored to perfection, the disease of leprosy was put to flight, and every kind of incurable and severe infirmity departed from bodies B by a command. Since this twofold interpretation of the "hand" has been set before us—of which one suggests that the divine nature is utterly incomprehensible and incomparable, and is known only by its effects; while the other says that the grace of the Gospel is foretold by these words by the Bride—we shall leave it to the judgment of the hearer to choose for himself which he prefers as being more consistent and fitting for the passage in question. Yet, whichever is deemed more beneficial to the soul, we may be guided by one or the other, as if led by the hand toward the good. For if, as Paul says, we perceive the intelligible through the creation of the world, we shall avoid the curiosity of investigating incomprehensible things, C lest, if we treat that nature which we can neither grasp nor express by natural reason, we might provide material for heresy against the truth. But if we decide that this enigma of the hand refers to the Gospel, in this way too, our faith in the arcane dogmas will be firmer, since the fact that these things were predicted long before—and that in Christ Jesus our Lord—removes all doubt. To whom be glory and dominion for ever and ever. Amen.
HOMILY XII
D Chap. V, v. 5. I rose to open to my kinsman. My hands dropped myrrh, and my fingers dropped liquid myrrh. 6. I opened to my kinsman; my kinsman passed by. My soul went out at his word. I sought him, but I did not find him; I called him, but he did not answer me. 7. The watchmen who go about in the city found me; they struck me, they wounded me; the keepers of the walls took away my veil.
Those who undertake a journey across the sea in the hope of acquiring wealth, when they have already sailed the vessel out of the harbor and the steersman sitting at the helm turns the prow toward the open sea,
A they make a prayer as a prologue to their navigation, asking that God may be their guide for a happy and prosperous voyage. The sum of the whole vow is that a light and suitable wind may strike the sail toward the goal of the steersman who stands at the stern. And if that wind blows according to their desire, the sea becomes pleasant, playfully rippling with calm waves, while the vastness of the deep brings no distress, as the ship flies over the waters with great ease and glides along. And the wealth which is hoped for from this trade is already before their eyes, as the prosperity of the voyage promises a great abundance of goods even before the risk has been undertaken. B And I think the hearers understand, as many as have the perspicacity of mind to do so, what it is that I intend by this starting-point. For a vast sea of inquiry into divine words is set before our discourse, and from this extensive navigation, wealth of knowledge is expected; and this living ship, the Church, being gathered together in its entire body, as if it had sailed out into the deep, is intent upon the riches of our exposition as if they were its own. But our discourse, which performs the office of the steersman, does not take the tiller in hand until the entire body of this ship has offered a vow to God, that He may breathe into us the power of the Holy Spirit and stir up the waves of our thoughts, and by their means, blowing favorably, may lead the discourse straight ahead: so that in this way, having been carried into the deep through contemplation, we may acquire the wealth of knowledge as a kind of merchandise, if it should be granted through your prayers that that holy breath may be favorable to our discourse and fill the sail.
Let the beginning of the discourse be the remembrance of the divinely inspired words, which are exactly as follows: *I rose up to open to my kinsman. My hands dropped myrrh, my fingers were full of myrrh.* That the living Word—I mean that pure and incorporeal Bridegroom, who unites the soul to Himself through immortality and holiness—cannot come to be within us in any other way unless one, by putting to death the members which are upon the earth, removes the curtain of the flesh, and so opens the door to the Word through which He may enter into the soul, is manifest not only from the divine dogmas of the Apostle, but also from these words now spoken by the bride. C *I rose up*, she says, *to open to my kinsman*, by making my hands fountains of myrrh, spontaneously pouring forth the aroma, and showing my fingers to be full of myrrh. For she tells us through these words the manner in which the door is opened to the Bridegroom: for it is *because I was buried with Him through baptism into death* that I rose. For the resurrection would have had no efficacy if voluntary mortification had not preceded it. D Now the sign of this voluntary act is that drop of myrrh flowing from her hands, and the fact that her fingers are said to be full of this aroma. For she does not say that the myrrh comes to her hand from another source. For if the matter were such, it would have to be thought that what is signified by the myrrh had its origin from elsewhere, and had come to her even against her will. But she says that the hands themselves—meaning [...]
A the movements of the soul that are productive of action—distilled the myrrh of their own accord; by this she signifies the mortification of the bodily affections that arises from within, from the power of the will, and she means that this has been fulfilled in all the fingers. She mentions the individual kinds of virtues carefully cultivated, interpreting them by the name of "fingers," so that the mind of what is said is all of this sort: I have received the power of the resurrection by mortifying my members that are upon the earth, since the mortification of such members was actively performed by me of my own free will, the myrrh not being placed into my hands by another, but flowing down from my own faculty of choice. Thus, in all those pursuits according to virtue which she has called fingers, such a disposition is seen to be present without fail. For it is possible B to see, among those who are pursuing virtue, that they are dead to one passion, but alive in others; just as we see some people mortifying the lasciviousness within themselves, as it happens, while nurturing through care their pride, or some other passion that harms the soul—such as the love of money, or irascibility, or the love of profit and ambition, or something else of this kind. Where such a thing is still badly alive in the soul, it is impossible to show fingers full of myrrh. For the mortification and alienation of evil does not appear in all pursuits. But when all such fingers are filled with the myrrh understood here, then the soul also rises, and she opens the entrance to the Bridegroom. Perhaps for this reason also the great Paul, having rightly understood the voice of the Master, says that it is C not possible for a stalk to grow unless the grain is first dissolved by death (1 Cor. xv, 36). This doctrine the Church proclaims, that death must lead the way to life, as it is impossible for life otherwise to come to be in a person, unless it obtains its passage through death. For, since our nature is twofold in us—the one part subtle, intellectual, and light; the other part coarse, material, and heavy—it is entirely necessary that the impulse in each of these be incompatible with the other and peculiar to itself. For what is intellectual and light has an upward movement natural to it; but what is heavy and material always inclines and moves downward. Moving, therefore, by nature in opposite directions, it is impossible for the one to find an easy path unless the other has slackened in its natural movement. But standing in D the middle place between both is our free power and faculty of choice, which of itself imparts both strength to the one that is flagging and weakness to the one that is prevailing. For in whichever part it settles, it grants to that one the victory over the other. Thus, in the Gospel, the faithful and prudent steward is praised; for he is—according to my reasoning, at least—the faculty of choice that correctly oversees the things within us. For he is praised because he feeds the household of the Master through the mortification of the opposites; for the destruction of those is the nourishment and health of the better parts. But that wicked servant is accused, who, by being with those who are drunk, beats the household of God with blows. For the prosperity of vice is truly a blow against the virtues.
A Therefore, we shall act rightly if, imitating that word of the Prophet, we appoint for ourselves a morning hour to kill all the sinners of the earth, and to remove from the city of God (for the soul is the city) all the reasonings that work iniquity, the destruction of which is the life of better things. Thus, therefore, we live through death, when the Word, who said, *I will kill and I will make alive*, partly kills and partly vivifies those things within us, as the Prophet says. In this way, Paul also, though dead, was living; though weak, he had strength; though bound, he finished his course; though hard-pressed by poverty, he was rich; having nothing, he possessed all things, always carrying about the dying of Jesus in his body, and always manifesting His life in himself.
B But let us return to that which is proposed to us: namely, that the soul rises from death through death. For if it does not die, it remains dead forever and is incapable of life. But by dying, it attains life, having laid aside all mortality. And this doctrine is confirmed for us by the statement proposed here, while the bride speaks thus: *I rose to open to my kinsman. My hands dripped with myrrh, my fingers were full of myrrh.* And that myrrh is a symbol of death, no one who is versed in the sacred Scriptures would doubt. Therefore, it is right, I think, for some to seek a clearer explanation regarding Him who raises us from death by means of death. We shall, therefore, set this forth as best we can, and we shall proceed in this treatment in order.
The account of the creation of the world testifies that all things which God created were *very good*. C Among the number of those things which were very good was also man; or rather, he was adorned with beauty far above the rest. For what else could be so beautiful as the likeness of uncorrupted beauty? If, then, all things were very good, and man was among all things, or even preceded them, death was certainly not in man. For man would not have been anything beautiful if he had possessed in himself the gloomy character of the sadness of death. But as he was an image and likeness of eternal life, he was truly beautiful, and indeed very beautiful, honored by the joyous character of life. And for him, the divine paradise also brought forth life through the fruitfulness of its trees, and the commandment of God was a law of life, which promised that man should not die. D Yet, since the tree that was productive of life was in the middle of the paradise—whatever must be thought of that tree whose fruit is life—and likewise the death-bearing tree, whose fruit is declared to be of both good and evil, was also in the middle of the paradise; and since it is impossible for there to be space for two trees in the very center, for whichever of the two we grant to occupy the middle, by every necessity the other is entirely excluded from the place of the center.
For the precise position of the middle in relation to the surrounding boundary is understood when, standing apart from the extremity by equal intervals on all sides, it is equidistant. Therefore, if one point is accurately established as the middle of a circle, there is no way that, while the circle remains the same, two centers can be found in the middle space. For if, beside the center that has once been established, another is set down, it is necessary that another circle also be set down with it, and thus that first center is excluded from the middle, while the circumference of the circle encompasses that other center. Yet it is said that both the one and the other were in the middle of paradise, although they possessed a power absolutely contrary to each other: I mean the life-giving tree, and that whose fruit was death—which Paul named sin, when he said, "The fruit of sin is death."
B It is necessary, therefore, to understand through the philosophy of what has been said this doctrine: that in the planting of God, life was placed most truly in the middle; but death was not planted at all, nor did it take root, nor did it have any peculiar place of its own, but it is sown through the privation of life, whenever the participation in the greater good fails in those who are alive. Since, then, life is in the middle of the divine plants, and the nature of death arises from this falling away, for this reason also the death-bringing tree—the one who philosophized this doctrine through enigmas—says is in the middle of paradise, whose fruit he declares to have a power mixed from contraries. For he defined the same thing as being both good and evil, implying, I think, through this the nature of sin. C Since pleasure of some kind always leads the way in all things that are done through wickedness, and it is not possible to find any sin disjoined from pleasure—all the passions that occur through anger, and all that occur through desire—for this reason the fruit is also called "fair" according to the erroneous judgment of what is good, for those who place the good in pleasure, appearing as such; but it is found to be evil after this in the bitter digestion of the eating, according to the proverbial saying which states that "honey distills from the lips of malice," which for a time moistens the throat, but afterwards is found to be more bitter than gall to those who have poorly perceived that sweetness.
Since, therefore, man departed from the fertile crop of all good things and was filled with the destructive fruit through disobedience—and the name of this fruit is death-dealing sin—he was immediately deadened to the better life, having exchanged the irrational and brutish life for the more divine one. And death having once been mixed with our nature, this deadness went forth together with the successions of those who are born. D Whence a dead life received us, our life itself having in a way died. For our life is dead in effect, being deprived of immortality. For this reason, the one who is known in the midst of the two lives mediates for these two lives, in order that by the doing away with the worse, he may grant the victory to the incorruptible. Just as, therefore, by dying to the true life, man was transferred into this dead
A base life, so when he dies to this dead and bestial life, he is transferred to the ever-living life. Thus it is beyond doubt that it is impossible to come to be in the blessed life without having first become dead to sin. For this reason it has been subtly noted that in the same place, in the middle of paradise, both of the trees were located: because the one is there by nature, while the other proceeds to that which first exists by way of privation. For from the same source, to the same end, by participation and by privation, the exchange of life and death occurs. Since he who has died to the good has lived to the evil, and he who has become dead in wickedness has revived toward virtue. Therefore, the Bride rightly shows her hands full of myrrh, rising up through the deadness to all wickedness, in order to open to the Word the entrance into herself. And the Word is the Life that is introduced. B Having been raised to such a height through the things we have contemplated, the soul that looks toward God does not yet, as Paul says, know as it ought to know, nor does it consider that it has comprehended; but it still runs toward that which lies before it, stretching itself toward the things that are ahead.
For the sequence of the words that follow instructs us to understand these things concerning her: "I opened to my kinsman upon the hands of the lock." And she added, "My kinsman passed by; my soul went out at his word." For by these things she teaches us that, regarding the power that surpasses every mind, there is one mode of comprehension: never to stand still at what has been comprehended, but for one who is always seeking never to pause at what has been left behind. For she who has become full of myrrh—signifying C in all the pursuits of life (which it figuratively calls "fingers") the deadening of the evil in herself—demonstrates through this very thing her spontaneous cultivation of virtue, because her hands drip with myrrh. She says, therefore, that her hands touched the lock, that is, that her works came near to that narrow and restricted entrance, whose key the Word Himself delivers to those who resemble Peter. She opens to herself the gate of the kingdom through these two things: through the hands, by which works are signified, and through the lock of faith. For through both of these—works, I mean, and faith—the key of the kingdom is fashioned within us by the Word.
When, therefore, she hoped, according to the example of Moses, that the face of the Desired One would be revealed to her so that she might know it, then the One who was sought D passed by her comprehension. For she says: "My kinsman passed by"—not, indeed, leaving behind and abandoning the soul that was following Him, but drawing it to Himself. "My soul," she says, "went out at His word." O blessed is that going-out which the soul makes, following the Word! "The Lord will guard your going-out and your coming-in," says the Prophet. This is, in truth, the going-out and coming-in that is guarded by God for those who are worthy. For indeed, the going-out from that in which we are becomes an entrance into the supernal blessings.
A This going-out the soul has accomplished, using the Word as a guide, who said: *I am the door, and the way; and if anyone enters through me, he shall both enter and go out*, so that he may never make an end of entering or going out; but he ceases where, by progressing, he enters into what is above, and he is always becoming outside of those things that have been grasped. Thus, at that time, that longed-for countenance of the Lord passed by Moses as well; and thus the soul of the legislator was always becoming outside of what it was, following the Word as it proceeded.
For who does not know those ascents which Moses climbed—he who was always becoming greater, and never stopping the increase toward that which is more excellent? B He was increased at the beginning when he deemed the reproach of Christ to be higher than the kingdom of the Egyptians, choosing rather to be afflicted with the people of God than to have the temporary enjoyment of sin. He was increased again when, as the Egyptian was oppressing the Hebrew, he put to death the alien, fighting for the Israelite. You surely understand the mode of increase in these things by transposing the history into a tropological contemplation. Again, he became greater than himself, keeping his life free from surrounding noise through the philosophy in the desert for a long time. Then he is illuminated by the fire that was in the bush. Beyond these things, he strips the covering of the dead from his feet; he consumes the Egyptian dragons with his rod; C he delivers his own kin from the tyranny of Pharaoh; he is led by a cloud; he divides the sea; he renders the tyranny submerged; he makes Marah sweet; he satisfies [himself with] the rock; he is filled with the food of angels; he hears the trumpets; he dares to ascend the burning mountain; he touches the summit; he enters the cloud; he becomes within the thick darkness in which God was; he receives the covenant; he becomes a sun, while emitting a light from his countenance, to which no one could approach more closely. And how could anyone recount with speech all his ascents and his varied divine manifestations? Yet, nevertheless, a man so great, such as he was, who had become involved in such things and had been raised up to God by so much, still has an insatiable longing for more, D and becomes a suppliant to see God face to face. And this is so, even though Scripture had already testified that he had been granted the privilege of speaking with Him face to face. Yet, nevertheless, neither that speaking with God as a friend with a friend, nor the conversation taking place mouth-to-mouth with God, could restrain his desire so that he would not seek further things. *If I have found grace in your sight*, he says, *show me yourself clearly.* And He who promised to grant the requested grace, He who said, *I have known you above all*, passes him by in the divine place on the rock, being covered by the divine hand, so that he could scarcely see the back parts after His passing. Teaching, I suppose, through these things, the Word teaches that the one desiring to see God, in always following Him, sees the object of his longing, and the vision of His countenance is the unceasing [pursuit] toward Him.
A And so now, too, when the soul has risen through death, when it has been filled with myrrh, when it has applied its hands to the latch through its deeds, and has hoped that the Beloved might let it in—then, indeed, He passes by, and the soul goes out, no longer remaining in the place where it was, but laying hold of the Word who leads it onward, no longer remaining in those things in which it had been, but touching the Word who leads to higher things.
The words that follow B further confirm for us the understanding we have considered thus far: that the magnitude of the divine nature is not known by being comprehended, but in its passing beyond every imaginative construct and power by which something is grasped. For the soul that has already gone forth from its own nature—so that it might not be hindered by any familiar thing in its knowledge of invisible realities—neither stops in seeking that which is not found, nor ceases in calling upon that which cannot be expressed. For it says: "I sought him, and I did not find him" (Cant. 3:1). For how could He be found, who bears no likeness to any known thing? He has no form, no color, no boundedness, no quantity, no place, no shape, no conjecture, no resemblance, no proportion, but as one who is always found to be outside every path of perception, He utterly escapes the grasp of those who seek Him. Therefore, it says, "I sought Him," through the searching powers of the soul, in reasonings and thoughts; yet He was outside all these, escaping the approach of the mind. And He who is always found to be outside every distinctive mark of recognition, how could He be grasped by any significance of names? For this reason, the soul devises every kind of power of words for the expression of that ineffable Good, C but every power of discursive speech is defeated and proven to be inferior to the truth. Therefore, it says: "I did indeed call, as I was able," by devising voices indicative of the ineffable blessedness; but He was greater than the indication of the things signified. The great David does this too, often calling upon the divine Being by ten thousand names, yet confessing that he does not attain to the truth. For, as he says, "You, O God, are compassionate and merciful, long-suffering and full of mercy, and true," and strength, and a foundation, a refuge, and power, and a helper, and a defender, and a "horn of salvation" (Ps. 17:2-3), and such like. And again, he confesses that His name is not known in all the earth, but is held in admiration. For, he says, "How admirable is Your name in all the earth!" (Ps. 8:1). Thus also speaks the One who delivered the prophecy concerning his son to Manoah, when asked about His name, answering that it is "wonderful" (Judg. 13:18) and too great to be contained by human hearing. Therefore, the soul also calls upon the Word as much as it can; D yet it cannot do as much as it wishes. For it wishes more than it can; yet it does not even wish as much as That Reality is, but only as much as the purpose is able to wish. Since, then, the One who is called is unreachable by the impulse of the one calling, for this reason it says: "I called Him, and He did not answer me."
B But the things which the bride adds to these, although at first glance they appear to have a somewhat sadder indication, in my opinion they seem to look toward the same goal and to have the meaning of an ascent to higher things. For it says: "They found me, the guards who compass the city; they beat me, they wounded me, the guards of the walls took away my veil from me." These words perhaps will seem to some to be the words of one lamenting rather than of one who is rejoicing, especially those words, "they beat me, they wounded me, and they took away my veil." But if someone accurately considers the meaning of the things that are said, these utterances are rather those of one gloriously boasting because of very beautiful things.
And this will be in some way clear to us. A little before this, a testimony is given to the bride that she is free from every covering, when it is said in her person: "I have put off my tunic; how shall I put it on?" But here she says again that her veil (or, by which word the bridal mantle is signified, which covers the face along with the head, as the history concerning Rebecca says) has been taken away from her. Who then, having stripped off all garments, still has a veil, which the guards of the city now take away from her? Is it not perhaps evident from the things said, how much she has progressed since that time by ascending to what is higher? For she who had already stripped off the old tunic, and was pure of every covering, becomes so much purer herself that, compared to the purity just achieved, she appears not to have stripped off the mantle before; but rather to have found something again after that nakedness, which she might lay aside. C Thus the ascent to that divine height always reveals something of a grosser nature, beyond that which is perceived at any given time. Therefore, the stripping away of that former tunic, when compared with her present purity, is itself removed again as a sort of veil by those who find her. These, however, are the guards who compass the city (and the city is the [human] soul), who by beating and wounding, take away the veil, and to whom this task has been given, that they should guard the walls of the city.
Indeed, that the removal of the veil is a good thing, so that the eye, freed from the covering, may contemplate the desired beauty without impediment, no one will doubt who looks to the Apostle. For he refers the removal of the veil to the power of the Spirit, when he says: "But when one turns to the Lord, the veil is removed; now the Lord is that Spirit." And certainly, it cannot be doubted by those who know how to contemplate the series and sequence of things, that even that which prepares for the good is altogether good. Therefore, if the removal of the veil is a good thing, we shall certainly place both the beating and the wound, through which the removal is accomplished, among good things. But because, in the first obvious sense, something unpleasant appears in these words—for the expression indicates suffering,
A that "they struck me, and they wounded me," is uttered with pain, we shall correctly resolve this if we first observe the use of such language in the holy Scriptures, to see whether, perhaps, these terms are used for something good, and then, from that perspective, consider the meaning of what is being said here.
How does Wisdom rescue the soul of the young man from death? Let us hear from Wisdom herself what she advises to be done so that the young man might not die. "If you strike him with a rod," she says, "he shall not die." For you will indeed strike him with the rod, but you will snatch his soul from death. Therefore, the term "striking" in this place seems to denote immortality, since it is said: "If you strike him with a rod, he shall not die." Furthermore, the implication is that his soul cannot be saved from death in any other way than by being struck with the rod. Thus, from these words, it is demonstrated that it is a good thing to be struck, since in reality it is a good thing for the soul to be delivered from death. B The prophet says that God acts in this way, vivifying by killing, and healing by striking. "I," he says, "will kill, and I will make to live; I will strike, and I will heal." For this reason also, the great David called this rod not a blow, but a consolation, saying: "Thy rod and thy staff, they have comforted me." And he declares that through these things a divine table is prepared for him, and all other things which that psalm recounts in accordance with these: for instance, the oil on the head, the wine in the cup—which produces that sober intoxication—the mercy that beautifully pursues him, and the long remaining in the house of God. C If, therefore, that sweet beating provides these things, as both the book of Proverbs and this Prophet teach, clearly it is a good thing to be struck by the rod from which such a fertility and abundance of good things proceeds.
But we would do well to also examine what was omitted by us before these words. The Word passed by the Bride in such a way that, although she greatly desired Him, she did not attain Him by seizing Him; yet He passed by, not to abandon the one passed by, but rather to draw her more to Himself. For she herself says: "My soul went out at his word." The soul goes out, therefore, from that in which it was, and is thus found by those who guard the city. For these words follow: "The watchmen, who go about the city, found me." D If, then, the dangers of Hades had found her, or if she said she was found by robbers, that would truly be a grave misfortune. "For the thief does not come except to steal, and to slaughter, and to destroy." But if those who go about the city as watchmen find her, she is certainly to be called blessed for such a discovery. For one who is found by the guard cannot be carried off stealthily by thieves. Who, then, are these watchmen? Who else but the ministers of Him who keeps Israel? Of Him who covers His right hand by watching; to whom the soul has been entrusted to be guarded from every evil? Who is the guardian of his coming in and his going out? He is surely that guardian of the city of whom it is said:
A *Unless the Lord keeps the city, he who keeps it wakes in vain.* The ministering spirits, therefore, who are sent for service on behalf of those who are to inherit salvation, are denoted in these words by the guards who are said to go around the city. Now that city, as we have indicated, is the soul, that dwelling place of God. By these, then, the soul was found, just as that sheep was once found by the good shepherd, over whose being found all the flocks were moved to joy together, according to the voice of the Lord. Thus also the drachma was once found by the lamp, over which all friends and neighbors rejoice. Such a finding also is David, the servant of the Lord, as the psalm says in the person of God: *I have found David my servant, with my holy oil I have anointed him.* After he became the possession of him who had found him, let us hear what things he attains: *My hand,* he says, *will help him, and my arm will strengthen him. The enemy will profit nothing against him, and the son of iniquity will no longer afflict him. I will cut down his enemies from before his face, and I will put to flight those who persecute him with hatred,* and all the other things that the catalog of blessings contains. Therefore, it is good to be found by the angels who go around the city, that is, the soul. For the great David B suggests that this is the meaning when he says: *The angel of the Lord will encamp round about those who fear him, and will deliver them.* Therefore, she who says that the guards struck her boasts of a certain addition having been made to her progress toward what is above. And if she also says she has been wounded, she demonstrates in her discourse the depth of that which was effected in her by the divine rod. For she does not receive the operation of the spiritual rod on the surface, so that the place where she received the rod would not be known; but the blow is shown to be noteworthy by the wound, in which the bride boasts. And the meaning of this is of this sort: That divine rod, and the consoling staff, which effectively heals through the act of striking, is the Spirit, whose fruit—along with the other good things C that Paul enumerated—is, among these, temperance, the guide of a life consistent with virtue. For thus also Paul himself, branded with these kinds of wounds, exulting over these wounds, said: *I carry the marks of Jesus in my body.* By this he shows his own weakness in every evil, through which the power of Christ is perfected in virtue. Therefore, the wound has also appeared good through the things I have said, through which for her the removal of the mantle of grief has occurred, so that the beauty of the soul is revealed to her, the garment no longer casting a shadow over it. D But let us repeat these things again, summarizing the idea of what has been said. The soul that looks toward God, and having begun to desire that good longing for incorruptible beauty, always keeps the newness of the longing toward the transcend-
transcendent, never blunting it with satiety. For this reason, it does not cease to stretch forward to the things that are before, and to go out from that in which it is, and to push into the more inward place where it has not yet been; and that which always seems wonderful and great to it, it considers to be lower than what follows, because what is always being discovered is entirely more beautiful than what has been previously attained. Just as Paul also died daily, A since he was always reaching toward some new life, becoming dead to that which had passed away, and forgetting those things that he had already achieved. For this reason, the bride, too, who hurries in her course toward the bridegroom, finds no rest in her progress toward greater things. She produces from her mouth paradises of pomegranates that flow with spices. She prepares food for the Lord of creation, receiving Him with her own fruits. She makes gardens flow. She becomes a well of living water. She is shown to be all fair and without blemish, according to the testimony of the Word. Elevated again higher than these things, she perceives the Word approaching more magnificently, whose head, she says, is full of dew, and his locks contain the drops of the night. She washes her feet, takes off her tunic, and lets myrrh drip through her hands. She moves her hands to the latch, opens the entrance, seeks Him who cannot be comprehended, calls for Him whom we cannot attain, and is struck by the guards. She receives the striking rod of her own accord. She imitates that rock of which the Prophet says: B *He struck the rock, and the waters flowed out.* See to what a height the bride has reached? For no doubt she was struck for this reason, just as that rock was struck by Moses, so that, in accordance with the likeness of that one, she too might gush forth for those who thirst for the Word, as if pouring forth a fountain from a wound like rain. Following these things, she shows the stripped beauty of her face, after the guards have taken away her veil. These are the things that could be perceived by us from this passage. But we will not begrudge anyone if, from Him who reveals hidden mysteries, he obtains for himself a contemplation of these things combined with greater profit for his soul. Perhaps someone might also say that the vision of the prophet Isaiah has some affinity with the words set before us here. I mean that vision where he says that, when the leprous king had died, he saw a certain one sitting magnificently upon a high and exalted throne, in the sight of all: whose figure, C and form, and magnitude his eyes were not able to contain. For he would certainly have disclosed these things, if he had been able to contain them, just as he did in the case of the other things he saw, when he counted the wings and described how they stood and flew. At least he says that he heard a certain voice, and that the upper threshold was removed from its place by the harmony of the hymns of the Seraphim, and the house was filled with smoke, and a burning coal was cast by one of the Seraphim into the mouth of the Prophet, by which act not only his lips, but also his hearing, were purified for the reception of the Word. For just as here he says that the bride was struck and wounded by the guards, and thus stripped of the covering of her veil, so also there, instead of the veil... D
the lintel above is removed, so that A viewing of the things in the sanctuary might be unhindered; and instead of the guards, the Seraphim are named; and instead of the rod, the coal; and instead of the stripes, the burning.
The end is common both to the bride and to the soul of the prophet: it is purity. As, therefore, the prophet is not pained by being burned by the coal, but is glorified as he is enlightened, so also here the bride does not complain of suffering from the wound, but boasts in the addition of her boldness, in the taking away of the covering, which the Word named "veil." B There is also another meaning to be found in the things set before us, which does not at all conflict with the things already observed. For the soul that has gone forth at His word, and is seeking Him who is not found, and is calling upon Him who is inaccessible to the meaning of names, is taught by the guards that she loves the inaccessible and desires the incomprehensible. By these things she is, in a certain way, struck and wounded by the despair of what is desired, thinking her desire for the Other to be incomplete and unenjoyed. But the veil of grief is taken away by her learning that to be always advancing in seeking, and to never cease from the ascent, is the true enjoyment of the desired One, because the desire that is always being fulfilled begets another desire for that which is above it. As soon, therefore, as she took away the veil of despair, and saw the C hopeless and indescribable beauty of the Beloved—which is found to be greater always in all the eternity of the ages—she is stretched out in a more intense longing, and tells the Beloved through the daughters of Jerusalem the disposition of her heart: that having received in herself the chosen arrow of God, she has been struck in the heart by the point of faith, and in due time has received the wounding of love. For God is love, according to the voice of John; to whom be glory and strength for ever and ever. Amen.
HOMILY XIII.
D 7. I adjure you, O daughters of Jerusalem, by the powers and by the strengths of the field, if you find my kinsman, what shall you report to him? That I am wounded with love. 8. What is your kinsman from a kinsman, O beautiful among women? That you have so adjured us? 9. My kinsman is white and ruddy, chosen out of ten thousands. His head is gold of Cephaz, his locks are firs, black as a raven. His eyes are as doves by the fullness of waters, washed in milk, sitting by the fullness of waters.
He who, indeed, through Moses legislated the mysteries of the law, and through Himself fulfilled all the law and the prophets, just as He says in the Gospel: I have not come to destroy the law, but to fulfill it; who, having taken away the
A stain of murder by the removal of anger, and having driven out the defilement of adultery by the obliteration of desire, this same One also casts out of life the curse from perjury, having bound the sickle in inactivity through the prohibition of the oath. For it is not possible that there should be a violation of an oath if there is no oath. Therefore He says: "You have heard that it was said to those of old, You shall not perjure yourself, but you shall perform your oaths to the Lord. But I say to you, Do not swear at all: neither by heaven, for it is God's throne; nor by Jerusalem, for it is the city of the great King; nor shall you swear by your head, because you cannot make one hair white or black. But let your word be, Yes, yes; and No, no; and whatever is more than this is from the evil one."
But the soul that is signaled out for perfection by the Song of Songs, having had the veil of the heart removed in the putting away of the old garment, and having cast off the covering B over the face—by which we understand every doubting and oscillating thought, so that it might purely and without doubt look toward the truth—this soul adjures the daughters of Jerusalem, neither by the divine throne, which the Word calls heaven, nor by the royal city of God, which is called Jerusalem, nor indeed by the honorable head, whose hairs can become neither white nor black. But it transfers its oath to the field, bringing the adjuration upon the young women through the powers therein, saying: "I have adjured you, daughters of Jerusalem, by the powers and the strengths of the field."
That the one who is testified to throughout as being beautiful and free from every blemish utters nothing superfluous (which indeed is of the devil), but speaks from God, from whom—according to the prophet Micah—if there is anything that is good and if there is anything that is beautiful, it exists, and beside these there is nothing, is plain to anyone who is taught by the Lord's testimony in what things the bride excels. C For when she omits all the forbidden types of oath, and does not bind these young women by the royal city, nor by the throne of the great King (by which we learn how far we should refrain from daring to abuse God in oaths, since we have no license to make mention of that throne or of that city in an oath); since she also spares the honorable head, which she subsequently describes in the discourse as golden, whose hairs are neither white nor black (for who could either blacken gold or cover it with a white color?), she altogether proposes to these virgins such an oath as is not in conflict with the evangelical law, and which provides a subject of praise for those who swear, according to the voice of the Prophet who says: "Everyone who swears by Him shall be praised." D So it is that the sense of what is said here does not lack that duality by which the evangelical law wills the truth to be confirmed, when it says: "But let your word be, Yes, yes; and No, no." Therefore, if it is forbidden in oaths to assume the throne of the King, and the city in which the royal residence is, and that true head,
A in the naming of the oath—and only "Yes" and "No" are permitted, with truth being observed equally through both in the "Yes"—it should be clear that even now the oath imposed by the Bride upon the young maidens is recorded according to the concept of the "Yes," where our soul’s assent must be firmly established. The text is as follows: "I adjure you, O daughters of Jerusalem, by the powers and strengths of the field: if you find my kinsman, what shall you report to him? That I am wounded with love."
These things have been considered already in the preceding pages, as the sequence of the themes suggested. But it is pleasing to speak briefly—B even now—of what we have found. The Apostle says that an oath is an immutable thing, confirming the truth through itself, and he defines it as the end of all contradiction, for the confirmation of things known. Therefore, the Bride imposes the adjuration upon the virgins, so that what is said may be kept inviolable by them. But since every oath is made by something greater, as the Apostle says—for no one would make an oath by something baser than himself—it is necessary to consider what greater thing is proposed to the young maidens in the oath by the Bride. "I adjure you," she says, "O daughters of Jerusalem, by the powers and strengths of the field." What, then, is that which is above us in these things? That the field is understood by a figurative meaning to be the world, we do not doubt, since the Lord both calls the world so and interprets it. If, then, there are many powers and strengths of the world that are set before the oath, which we must consider to be greater than us, so that the oath may take strength for the confirmation of the truth by being made by greater things, it would surely be necessary, for the sake of the clarity of the things proposed, to set forth another version interpreting the words, which is as follows: "I adjure you, O daughters of Jerusalem, by the does and C the fawns of the field." We are taught, therefore, through these names, in what the strength of this world consists and in what its power lies, which are taken up through the oath for the confirmation of the truth.
There are two things that make a man akin to God. The one is an unerring opinion concerning that which truly exists, so that one may not be led astray by erroneous notions into pagan and heretical opinions concerning the Divine, which is, in truth, the "Yes." The other is a pure reasoning that banishes every passionate disposition of the soul, which is not far removed even from the "Yes." Of this double habit of good things—of which the one causes us to look toward that which truly exists, while the other puts to flight the passions that damage the soul—the memory of the does and the fawns makes known the power through symbols. For of these, the one sees unerringly, while the other possesses a certain consuming and devouring power toward wild beasts. This, therefore, the Bride proposes to the virgins as the "Yes": both that one must look piously toward the Divine, and purely D
the power to devour and consume venomous beasts. This, therefore, the Bride also proposes to the virgins, namely, that the divine Being is to be contemplated religiously, and this life is to be traversed as it were without vices, A which, if they are performed, that "Yes" which cannot be changed is established in us. For that oath is, which gives credit to the truth, and which, if anyone excels in it, he is praised, as the Prophet says. For truly he who secures certainty for himself in these two things—namely, in the word of faith, so that he may look toward the truth without error, and in the manner of living, when he is pure from every defilement of depravity—he therefore truly swears to the Lord, that he will not go up into the bed laid for him, nor give sleep to his eyes, nor slumber to his eyelids, until he finds in himself a place for the Lord, having become a tabernacle for Him who dwells in him. If, therefore, we also are children of that Jerusalem above, let us listen to the bride who teaches us how the Desired One may be seen.
What then does she say? If we bind ourselves with this vow, to be in the powers of the sharp-sighted roes, and in the strengths of the stags that abolish evil, then it will truly be possible to see that pure Bridegroom, who emits love; then it will be possible for the soul of each one to say to Him, "I am wounded by love." But we have learned even from the book of Proverbs that the wounds of love are good, which says: B "Faithful are the wounds of a friend, but the kisses of an enemy are deceitful." But who is that friend, whose wounds are preferable to the kisses of an enemy? It is clear to everyone who is not ignorant of the mysteries of salvation. For a true and certain friend is he who did not cease to love us even when we became enemies; but the savage enemy, and with whom no friendship can be formed, is he who, though injured by us in nothing, subjected us to death. The first-created men thought the interdiction concerning the avoidance of evil, which was contained in the command of God, was a wound. For the removal from what is pleasant was considered a wound; but a kiss, an exhortation to what was sweet and beautiful to behold. But experience has shown that those things which were thought to be wounds coming from a friend were far more useful and stable than the kisses of an enemy. Since, therefore, that renowned suitor of our souls proved his love for us, by which Christ was led to die for us even when we were still sinners, for this reason the bride, in turn inflamed with love for Him who had loved her, shows the dart of love lying deep within her breast, that is, the communication C of His very divinity. For God is love, as we have said, which penetrates into the heart through the point of faith. If, however, we must also tell the name of this dart, we found that we learned from Paul that this dart is faith working through love.
Indeed, let these things stand as it seems good to each; but let us also look at that question which the virgins set before their teacher: "What is your kinsman more than a kinsman, O beautiful among women? What is your kinsman more than a kins- D
kinsman, that you have adjured us in such a way?"
This phrasing seems to me to contain a certain sense, as the sequence of the matters previously examined suggests. For since the maidens saw the soul’s excellent departure—the soul who is the bride—when she attached herself to the Word, saying, "My soul went forth at his word"; and since they knew that, having gone forth, she sought him who cannot be found by signs, and called out to him who does not respond to names; for this reason they say: "How are we to know him, we who find him by no identifying sign, who neither responds when called, nor is caught when sought? Therefore, remove from our eyes the veils, just as the guards of the A city did for you, so that we may obtain some guidance toward what we are seeking. Tell us, who is your kinsman, in as much as he exists in the realm of nature? Provide for us an approach to his recognition through certain identifying proofs—you, who have been filled with the Good and have therefore become beautiful among women. Make known to us the object of our search, and teach us by what signs the Invisible is found, so that we may tell him of the shaft of love by which you have been wounded through the heart, increasing your desire by means of this sweet pain." B It would be better, however, to repeat the same phrase word for word again, so that the meaning set forth may be accommodated to the words themselves: "What is your kinsman more than a kinsman, O beautiful among women? What is your kinsman more than a kinsman, that you have adjured us in such a way?"
Let us therefore listen to her who has now completely removed the veil, and who, with the eye of the soul, looks toward the Truth: how does she describe for them what they were seeking? How does she paint, with her account, the character of the Desired One? How does she bring before the gaze of the C maidens him who was unknown to them? For since, in Christ, there is something uncreated and something created—and we call "uncreated" that which is also eternal and pre-temporal, the Maker of all things that exist, but "created" that which, for the sake of the dispensation in our behalf, was fashioned in the form of our body of humility—it would be better to set forth the thought concerning this through the divine words themselves. We call "uncreated" the Word who was in the beginning, through whom all things were made, and without whom none of the things that exist would have come to be. And we call "created" him who became flesh and tabernacled among us, the glory of whom, even when he was incarnate, D signifies that God was manifested in the flesh—God, in any case, the only-begotten, who is in the bosom of the Father, as John said: "We beheld his glory." Yet, what was seen was man, but that which was known through him—"Glory," he says, "as of the only-begotten from the Father, full of grace and truth." Since, therefore, that which is his uncreated, pre-temporal, and eternal nature is altogether beyond every essence and is inexpressible, but that which was manifested to us through the flesh can in some measure come to our knowledge, for this reason the teacher always looks to these things and makes her account concerning them, in so far as it can be grasped by those who hear. I say
A that the great mystery of godliness, through which God was manifested in the flesh, is he who, existing in the form of God, and having companied with men through the flesh in the guise of a servant—who, since he once took unto himself through the firstfruits the mortal nature of the flesh, which he assumed through the incorrupt virginity, ever sanctifies the common mass of our nature with incorruptibility—through those who are united to him by the communion of the mystery, feeding his own body, that is to say the Church, and fitting to the common body the members growing forth through faith in him, makes the whole seem beautiful, and in eyes, and mouth, and hands, and the remaining parts, he disposes those who believe in a becoming and harmonious manner. For thus says Paul: That the body is one, but has many members. And not all members have the same order, but there is in the body an eye that does not despise the hand, and being a head it does not reject the feet, but the whole body is tempered through the variety of the operations of the members, so that the members may not make a schism against the whole. B And having proposed these thoughts in riddles, he advances the discourse to greater clarity, saying: That God set in the Church apostles, and prophets, and teachers, and pastors, for the perfecting of the saints, for the work of ministry, for the building up of the body of Christ; until we all attain unto the unity of the faith and of the knowledge of the Son of God, unto a perfect man, unto the measure of the stature of the fullness of Christ. And again: Let us grow up in him in all things, who is the head, Christ, from whom the whole body, fitly framed and knit together through that which every joint supplieth, according to the working in measure of each several part, makes the increase of the body unto the building up of itself in love. Therefore he who looks to the Church, looks directly at Christ, who builds up and magnifies himself through the addition of those who are being saved. C Accordingly, she who has laid aside the veil from her eyes sees with a pure eye the ineffable beauty of the bridegroom; and because of this she is wounded by the incorporeal and blazing dart of love. For an intense love is called *eros*; of which no one is ashamed, when the darting is not from him according to the flesh, but rather one boasts in the wound, when one receives into the depth of the heart the goad of the desire that is placed beyond coarse things. Which thing this woman also did, when she said to the young maidens: That I am wounded with love. D Since, therefore, she had advanced to such a degree of perfection, because it was necessary to show also to the virgins the beauty of the bridegroom, she does not say what he was in the beginning (for it was not possible for that which is ineffable to be manifested by the power of words); but rather, towards the divine manifestation that came to us through the flesh, she leads the virgins under her guidance. This indeed is also what the great John did...
who, having passed over in silence that which was in the beginning, studiously recounts that which we have seen, which we have heard, and which our hands have handled, concerning the Word of life. A The bride therefore says to them: *My kinsman is white and ruddy, chosen out of ten thousands. His head is fine gold; his locks are firs, black as a raven. His eyes are as doves by the waters of pools, washed with milk, sitting by the pools of waters. His cheeks are as beds of spices, putting forth perfumed flowers. His lips are lilies, dropping full myrrh; his hands are turned, golden, full of Tharsis; his belly is an ivory casket upon a sapphire stone; his legs are marble columns, founded upon bases of gold; his appearance is as chosen Lebanon, as cedars. His throat is sweetness, and he is altogether desire; this is my kinsman, and this is my neighbor, O daughters of Jerusalem.* All these things, by which his beauty is depicted, are not indicative B of those things in his divinity that cannot be perceived or comprehended; but rather of those things which were made manifest at the time of the administration, when he was seen upon the earth and conversed with men, having put on human nature, through which, to use the apostolic words, even those things which cannot be seen in him are discerned, while they are understood from the very deeds themselves—that is, while they are made manifest through the construction of the ecclesiastical world. For the construction of the Church is a kind of creation of a world, in which, according to the voice of the prophet, even a new heaven is created, which is the firmament of faith in Christ, as Paul says, and a new earth is prepared, absorbing the rain that comes upon it; and another man is formed, who is renewed through the birth from above according to the image of him who created him. And a different nature of luminaries comes to be, concerning which he says: *You are the light of the world*; and, *In whom you shine as luminaries in the world*; and many stars, rising in the firmament of faith. And this is not yet a cause for wonder, if there are multitudes of stars in this new world, counted and named by God, of which the Creator of such stars says that they are written in the heavens. For thus I heard the Creator C of the new creation saying to his own luminaries: *That your names are written in the heavens.* Therefore, this is not the only amazing thing about the new creation, that a multitude of stars is brought into being in it by the Word; but that many suns are also created, illuminating the inhabited world with the rays of good works; for he who creates such suns has said: *Let your light shine before men*; and, *Then the righteous shall shine as the sun.* Just as, therefore, he who looks upon this sensible world, and considers the wisdom appearing in the beauty of things that exist, calculates by reasoning
A from visible things to the invisible beauty and the source of wisdom, whose outpouring has established the nature of all things that exist; so too he who gazes upon this new world of the creation belonging to the Church, sees in it Him Who is all in all, being led by the hand, through things that are containable and graspable by our faith, toward the knowledge of the Uncontainable.
Wherefore, since the virgin souls offer this request to her who has already run the course to perfection, that through her the Desired One might be made known to them, she sketches for the virgins the marks of the One sought through those things which were manifested for our salvation. And having made the whole Church one body of the Bridegroom, she shows a particular meaning through each of the members in the description of beauty, by all of which, when considered individually from parts B of the whole, the beauty of the body is composed and completed.
She begins this teaching from a principle that is not far removed from us, nor foreign to us. For she starts the instruction from the body, just as Matthew also did, when, having traced the genealogy from Abraham and David through the long series of the mystery of the flesh that was assumed, he reserved for the great John the task of proclaiming in the Gospel the beginning understood from eternity, and the Word understood together with this beginning, as if these had already been established as elements and principles. Through these thoughts, therefore, the Bride initiates the young maidens, showing that our mind will not be brought to the incomprehensible and infinite before it has grasped through faith what has been manifested; and that which was manifested is the nature of the flesh.
For having said: "My kinsman is white and ruddy," by the mixing of these two colors she describes the character of the flesh through the word. She did this also previously, when she called Him an apple, whose form is seen C to be tempered by both colors; for the apple is both white and reddens, indicating, as I suppose, the nature of blood through the redness, as if by a certain symbol. But since all flesh is constituted in one way, with marriage in every case paving the way for birth for those entering this life through generation—lest anyone, accepting the birth of the flesh in this mystery of godliness, should let his mind slip to the works and passions of nature, thinking that the generation of this flesh was brought about in the same way as in all others—for this reason she confesses that He who became a participant of flesh and blood is "white and ruddy," D indicating through the two colors the nature of the body, yet she does not say that His birth occurred in the same manner as common birth. For among all the myriads of mankind from the time men began to exist, and as long as nature will proceed by flowing through the birth of those who succeed one another, He alone came into this life by a new species of birth, to which nature did not cooperate, but served. On this account, she says, because He is white and this ruddy One, who visited life through flesh and blood, is the only one out of all the myriads [born] from virginal purity
whose conception did not proceed from the union of two, whose birth was in no way defiled, and whose delivery was free from pain; whose bridal chamber was the power of the Most High, like a cloud overshadowing the virginity itself; whose nuptial torch was the radiance of the Holy Spirit; whose marriage bed was freedom from passion, and whose union was incorruptibility. B He, therefore, who was born from such, is rightly named "chosen out of all the myriads," a term which signifies that he is not from a birth-bed. For His generation alone is without the pangs of childbirth, just as His formation was without marriage. For it is not possible to apply the name of "childbirth" properly to that incorrupt and unmated one, because the terms for virginity and childbirth are incompatible regarding the same person. But just as a Son was given to us without a Father, so also the Child was born without the pangs of childbirth. For just as the Virgin did not know how that God-receptive body was formed within her body, so neither did she perceive the birth, with the prophecy bearing witness to her of the painlessness of the travail. For Isaiah says: "Before the labors of travails came, she escaped and brought forth a man-child." For this reason, He is "chosen" and marvelous in both parts of the natural sequence, neither having begun from pleasure, nor having emerged through pain. And this happens according to the proper consequence, and is not outside what is reasonable. For since she who introduced death into nature through sin was condemned to bring forth in sorrows and pains, it was entirely necessary that the mother of Life should begin the conception from joy, and complete the birth in joy. For the archangel says to her, "Rejoice, full of grace," C casting out by this word the sorrow which from the beginning had been allotted to birth by sin. This, then, is He who alone among all the myriads was born in such a new and peculiar manner of generation, the white and the ruddy One, rightly named for the sake of the flesh and blood, and "chosen out of ten thousands" because of the incorrupt and passionless property of His birth, which is different from the birth of others. Or perhaps the bride applied this expression to Him because of the other modes of His generation, which are themselves not without the pangs of birth. For you cannot be unaware how many times He has been born, He who is the firstborn of all creation, firstborn among many brethren, firstborn from the dead; He who first loosed the pangs of death and cleared a way for all through the resurrection to the birth from the dead. For He was born in all these, yet He did not pass into birth through the pangs of childbirth. For the generation from water did not receive the suffering of birth, nor did the regeneration from the dead, nor the firstborn status of this divine creation; but in all these instances, the birth is free from the pangs. For this reason she says, "Chosen out of ten thousands." D As to how His beauty is described in each of His members, it would now be the time to consider through the words spoken: "His head is, as it were, pure gold." The
A Hebrew expression, if translated into our tongue, denotes gold that is pure and unalloyed, and removed from every mixture. It seems to me that those who translated the words of the Hebrews into Greek let the word *Cephaz* remain untranslated, because they could not find in the Greek terms any expression capable of conveying the emphasis observed in the Hebrew tongue. But since we have learned that such a word signifies something sincerely pure, which admits no mixture of sordid matter, we are led to establish this regarding the proposed statement: namely, that Christ is the head of the body of the Church. By Christ, however, we do not here mean that this name is referred to the eternity of the deity, but to the God-receiving man, who was seen on earth and lived among men, the offshoot of virginity, in whom dwelt all the fullness of the Godhead bodily, the first fruits of the common lump, through whom the Word clothed Himself with our nature, rendering it immaculate and purged of all vices naturally clinging to it. For thus the prophet speaks of Him: "He committed no sin, nor was deceit found in His mouth," *who was tempted in all things according to the likeness of our nature, without sin.* Therefore, the head of B the body of the Church, and the first fruits of our entire nature, is gold that is pure and alien to every mixture of vice. But the locks, once dark and black, and in their appearance like crows—I mean those specific crows whose task it is, according to the proverb, to pluck out eyes and provide them as food for the eaglets, those whose visual organs they have mutilated—these locks, then, having become fir trees, that is, lofty trees reaching from earth toward heaven, increase the beauty of the bridegroom by a certain addition, fitted to His divine head. Nor can you be ignorant of what the function of these locks is, since you learned it above from the very words of the bridegroom: "My locks," he says, "are filled with drops of water." Therefore, those are the locks dripping with dew which are called clouds by the prophets, from which arises that rain of doctrine that irrigates the inanimate fields for the fertility of God's cultivation. And thus I believe that the apostles are C figuratively signified by the locks by the divine Word, some of whom were previously dark through their way of life—for example, the thief, that tax collector, and the other, the persecutor, and whoever else was similar to that black, carnivorous crow, the destroyer of eyes. By this, I understand the prince of the power of the darkness, as he speaks who, having been made from a crow into a fir tree, is therefore called a lock of the divine head. For since he was previously a blasphemer, a persecutor, and a violent transgressor—as long, that is, as he was a crow—he was transformed to this grace, so that, having become a lock and having been drenched with heavenly dew, he [imparts] to the entire body of the Church the sermon D of hidden and obscure mysteries
A We have surmised that these are termed locks by the bride, which, adhering to the golden head, do not a little increase the beauty of the bridegroom, being stirred by the breeze of the Spirit. And these same locks become a most beautiful crown for the undefiled head, adorning it with their own circuit. For the prophecy seems to me to speak of these things: *Thou hast set upon his head a crown of precious stone.* So that by both designations they are to be understood, as they are both graceful locks and precious stones, bestowing some ornament upon the head by their presence. B The sequence of the argument requires that we also consider the things said regarding the eyes. And the text is this: *His eyes are as doves by the fulness of waters, washed in milk, sitting by the fulness of waters.* The meaning of these words is higher than our comprehension; for we think that whatever we may conceive regarding these is less than the truth. Yet, to us, as we examine them with diligence, it appears to be something of this sort: The divine Apostle says somewhere in his own discourses that the eye cannot say to the hand, I have no need of thee; establishing by these words the doctrine that it behooves the body of the Church to act rightly through both, with the sight of truth tempered together with the capacity for action. For neither, on the one hand, does contemplation by itself perfect the soul unless deeds be present, which bring the moral life to completion; nor, on the other hand, does practical philosophy provide sufficient benefit if true piety is not the guide of the things being done. If, then, this union of eyes and hands is necessary, perhaps we are led more closely by these very words of Paul to consider, first, who the eyes are, and then, to grasp the praise of them in contemplation; while we shall reserve the discourse concerning the hands for its own proper place. For the proper task of the eyes by nature is to discern; for this reason, in their location, they are set above all other organs of sense, ordained by nature for the guidance of the whole body. When, therefore, we hear in the divine Scripture those who are leaders in the truth called by such names—of whom one is called "Seer," another "Discerner," and another is called by God in the books of the Prophets "Watchman"—we are led to conclude that those who are appointed to discern, to look upon, and to oversee are here called eyes. C And the marvel concerning them is taught to consist in a certain comparative likeness, with the description of their beauty delineated by the comparison to a better thing. For it says: *His eyes are as doves.* For, in truth, a noble praise of such eyes is that simplicity, void of malice, D which falls to the lot of those who are no longer defiled by the carnal life, but live and walk in the Spirit. For the spiritual and immaterial life is characterized by the form of the dove, since the Holy Spirit Himself was seen in this form by John descending from the heavens flying upon the water. Therefore, he who is to be as eyes for the body of the Church
A if he wishes to perform the office of a pure watcher and inspector, must wash away all the bleariness of vice with water. And this water, with which the eyes are cleansed and purified, is not one, but it is declared that there are many such replenishments of waters. For as many as are the virtues, so many springs of cleansing waters must be conceived of, through which the eyes always become purer than themselves; for example, temperance is a certain spring of cleansing water; another such spring is humility, truth, justice, fortitude, the desire for the good, and the aversion to evil. These and such waters are, from one source indeed, but as it were from different flows gathered into one replenishment, through which all cleansing from the bleariness of passion comes to the eyes. But although these eyes, which because of their integrity and simplicity are compared to doves, are set upon the replenishments of waters, nevertheless their bath is said to be milk, in these words: "Washed in milk." And a fitting praise is attributed to such eyes when it is recounted that such a dove is washed in milk and rendered beautiful. For it is truly observed in milk that it has this property alone B among things that are moist: that no image or likeness of anything is seen in it. For all things that are of a moist nature, by the likeness of mirrors, because of the smoothness of their surface, cause the images of those looking into them to shine back from themselves. In milk alone, however, no such formation of images has a place. Wherefore such is the most perfect praise for the eyes of the Church, that they do not represent anything that does not exist in the nature of things, nor anything erroneous or vain, as an idle shadow deceptively beyond the very truth of things; but they gaze upon the very truth itself, by no means admitting the erroneous specters and imaginations of this life. For this reason the perfect soul judged the bath of milk to be a certain remedy for the purity of the eyes. The words that follow, C as a kind of law, prescribe to the hearers to what things the eyes must be studiously intent. "Sitting," he says, "by the replenishments of waters." For this saying represents a perpetual, as it were, assiduity of attention in learning divine things, while it praises the pure eyes; teaching us meanwhile by what means we can obtain the beauty of the eyes, namely by never ceasing to sit at the replenishments of waters. Especially since many of those who hold the place of eyes, forgetting the diligence of sitting by such replenishments of waters, sit by the rivers of Babylon, doing that which is reproved in the person of God in such men. "They have forsaken me," he says, "the fountain of living water, and have hewn them out cisterns, broken that can hold no water." (Jerem. II, 13). D Thus we are taught by this saying how the eye can become beautiful, so that it may have some grace and altogether befit the golden head: namely, if it be without defilement, after the example of the dove, and like the nature of milk, free from errors and deceit, with no error
A of unsubstantial vanities; but rather that one should sit nearby, through persistence and watchfulness, by the fullness of the divine waters, in the likeness of the tree planted by the channels of water, which is not moved from its place. For thus, when fruit is produced in its season, the branch will also be preserved ever-green, being covered with the bloom of leaves.
But now, neglecting these spiritual waters of the eyes, and caring little for the watchfulness of the Word, some either dig for themselves a cistern of avarice, or quarry out vainglory, or excavate a pit of pride, or diligently dig other such pits of deception, which have no nature to contain for an eternity the water which they eagerly seek; for the honor, power, and glory of this life, about which the many are so anxious, flows away B as soon as it arises, leaving no trace of the vain labor in those who have been deceived.
Such the Word would have those to be who look and observe, who ought to have as a sort of eyebrow covering, the certainty of divine dogmas; and to have covered, by modesty—as if by a veil of eyelids—the purity and shining of their way of life, lest a beam of conceit falling upon the clarity of the pupil should become a hindrance to their vision. But what is the praise regarding the eyes of the members of the Bridegroom? We shall proceed to this in what follows, God granting it; by the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be glory for ever and ever. Amen.
HOMILY XIV
C Chapter v, 13. His cheeks are as bowls of perfume, putting forth apothecary’s spices. His lips are lilies, dropping full myrrh. 14. His hands are turned, golden, full of Tharsis. His belly is an ivory table, upon a sapphire stone. 15. His legs are marble pillars, founded upon golden bases. 16. His appearance is as Lebanon, chosen as the cedars. His throat is sweetness, and he is altogether desire. This is my kinsman, and this is my neighbor, O daughters of Jerusalem.
He who nurses the infant, still of tender spiritual age, with the unadulterated milk—being a nourisher, as the Apostle himself says, of those who are newly born in the Church—reserves the bread of wisdom for those who have been perfected according to the inward man, saying, "But we speak wisdom among those who are perfect." D For those who, through the habit of good teachings, have their perception of the soul exercised, become fit to receive the bread of wisdom, needing jaws for the digestion of food; therefore, there must also be jaws in the body of Christ for those who no longer cling to the nipple of the Word, but are already seeking a more solid food, of whom the bride now speaks in these words: "His cheeks are as bowls of perfume, putting forth apothecary’s spices."
Now, that the discourse regarding the cheeks should follow what was contemplated regarding the eye, would be clear to everyone who sensibly perceives. For this reason, it is necessary that the eye regarding the fullness of the spiritual wat...
waters should be bathed in unerring and guileless milk, becoming like the innocent dove, so that it may make all who contribute to the body of the Church participants in its own goods. For this cause, also, the great Isaiah commands him who has ascended to the high mountain by his manner of life to cry out with a clear voice, so that through him the hearers may know the Lord coming with power, and the arm that rules over existing things, him who pastures his flock and gathers the lambs, and comforts the ewes that are well-pregnant through good hopes, him who measures the heaven with the span of his hand and grips the whole earth with his fist; and all other things besides these which the prophecy says must be proclaimed by him who has ascended the mountain peak. If, therefore, through these things, the power from the waters and from the milk comes to the eyes for the knowledge of the truth, the cheeks are consistently praised after them, whose function it is to grind the food by which the nature and strength of the body is preserved.
Let us see, then, in what the praise of her cheeks consists. Let us hear the bride, how she speaks about them. B His cheeks, she says, are as vessels of aromatic spice, producing perfumery. If the Word signifies by the name of "vessel" [phiale] the spread-out form of the bowls, in which the concavity is furtively hidden by the craftsmanship, being neither a shape that is too deep, nor one that is upright and lying open, so that it does not appear accurately concave, nor yet flat; if, therefore, the bride indicates through the vessel such a form of bowls, there must be a peculiar reason why the cheeks are praised for this figure. For one might say that he who desires to praise the simple, spread-out, and guileless nature of the teaching makes mention of the vessel, in which the depth forbidden by the Prophet cannot exist, he who says: *Deliver me from those who hate me, and from the deep waters.* C We say, therefore, that the truth which appears in simplicity, without any guileful concavity, is signified by the word "vessel," the substance of which is spice, and the function of which is to produce perfumery. His cheeks, she says, are as vessels of aromatic spice, not made of silver, or gold, or glass, or any other such material, but of the spice itself, which produces those things from which the perfumes are prepared. D And from these things the meaning of these words is now undoubtedly clear: that it is proper for the pure eyes of the Church to prepare such food for the body, through the power of the cheeks to grind, so that nothing deep and treacherous may be perceived in what is said, but all things may be pellucid and free, and separated from all guileful concealment and depth, so that they are manifest even to children, just as the Prophet says: The testimony of the Lord is
faithful, instructing the little ones; the commandment of the Lord is pellucid, enlightening the eyes. A For if the vials of the Word are of such a kind, they will clearly not be composed of earthly matter; but their nature will be of that aroma—I speak of that aroma which the bride in the proem of the Canticle says excels all other aromas. Such a vial was Paul, who taught not in craftiness, but by the manifestation of the truth commended himself to all. He put away the material of being from the earth, from the time when, through baptism, he cast off the scales from the eyes of his flesh; but he was refashioned from the fragrant aroma, having become a child of the Holy Spirit. Since he was fashioned as a vessel of such choice craftsmanship to be a vial for the pouring of the Word, he no longer had need of any man to pour into him the knowledge of the mysteries; for he did not confer with flesh and blood, B but he himself brought forth within himself and gushed forth that divine drink, through the fragrance of Christ preparing the varied flowers of the virtues as unguents for those who heard him, so that according to the differences and properties of those receiving the Word, the aroma itself might be found suitable for the need of him who sought it—for Jews, for Greeks, for women, for men, for masters, for slaves, for parents, for children, for the lawless, for those under the law. Thus, for him, the grace of his teaching, tempered by every virtue, was multiform, the vial perfuming those who received the Word in a manner appropriate to each one’s need. Therefore, she who portrays by word the beauty of the bridegroom’s body praises these jaws; and that the praise of the jaws looks to this, the following discourse testifies in sequence.
C For after the jaws, the lips are praised, through which the aroma-bearing Word proceeds. And the praise is as follows: His lips are lilies, dripping with abundant myrrh. By this double illustration, he testifies to two virtues in the Word at once. Of these, the first is truth, which is seen as both bright and illustrious in what is said. For such is the species of the lily, whose brightness signifies, as in an enigma, the purity and truth of what is spoken. The other is that the life which falls solely under the perception of the mind and is devoid of gross things should be brought forth through instruction, D with this present life, whose force is seen in flesh and blood, being extinguished through the contemplation of things understood by the mind. For the myrrh dripping from the body, and making the soul of the receiver full of itself, becomes an indication of the mortification of the body. For in many places in the use of the divinely inspired words, it has been observed that the name of myrrh is significant of death. Therefore, the perfect and pure eye, which makes of the jaw a vial bringing forth and springing with ointments from itself, this, then, causes the lilies of the words to bloom through the mouth of those who are adorned with divine brightness. For thus are those called who are pure, and who through virtue possess a certain fragrance.
A The Word calls those who breathe forth virtue A by the name of those from whom the drop of myrrh comes, which endlessly fills the understanding of those who receive it; which is the contempt for the life of the flesh, wherein all things that are sought after here are, through the longing for the good things that are above, rendered inactive and dead. Such myrrh Paul would often pour forth from his mouth, mixed with the pure lily of chastity, into the ears of the holy virgin. And Thecla was that virgin, who, by receiving into herself the drops flowing down from the lily with a noble soul, put to death the outward man, having extinguished every carnal thought and desire in herself. After she had received that good instruction, her youth was dead, her outward beauty was dead, and all the bodily senses were dead, with the Word alone living in her, through whom the whole world was dead to her, and she herself was dead to the world. So too, the great Peter once, when he was with Cornelius, uttering the brilliant lilies of his speech, filled the souls of his hearers with myrrh; and they, having immediately received the Word, were buried with Christ through baptism, having become dead to this life. And it is possible to find countless examples of the saints in addition to these, [showing] how, having become the mouth of the common body of the Church, they filled their hearers with the mortifying myrrh of the passions, blooming brightly through the lilies of the Word, through which those great champions of the faith were, during the time of the confession of the truth and in the struggles undertaken for piety, all but washed in myrrh. What need is there to lengthen the discourse on these things with a long speech, since the meaning has been made clear to us through what has been said, [namely] how the mouth of the Church becomes a lily; and how the myrrh distills from the lily; and how the soul of those who receive it is filled with such a drop.
B Let us now proceed to what follows. For it says: *His hands are turned, golden, full of tharsis.* B That the benefit of the eye is imperfect in the body of the Church C if the ministry of the hands is separated from it, we have clearly learned from the great Paul, who says that the eye cannot say to the hand, I have no need of thee. D For the power of the eyes is shown most especially when works bear witness to the keenness of the sight, demonstrating itself brightly through the zeal for noble deeds. Since, therefore, we must proceed to the exposition of the praise of the hands of the divine body, having first set forth the [praise] spoken of, [to show] how those who hold the place of the hands in the Church ought to be prepared, we will, with God granting [us the ability], attempt to consider the meaning hidden in these very words of the divine oracle. *His hands,* it says, *are turned, golden, full of tharsis.* And thus far, in these words, the sense is manifest, [namely] that the same things for which the head is praised also complete the praise of the hands. And we have understood the head as Christ according to the flesh,
A in whom God was reconciling the world to Himself, according to the word of Paul; He who manifested Himself in the flesh through powers and miracles. If, then, this head that we have pondered was called by the Word untarnished gold because it is outside of every sin—for “He committed no sin,” he says, “nor was guile found in His mouth” (Isa. LIII, 9; I Petr. II, 22)—and if the Word says the hands are golden, it is manifest what is meant by these things: that the Word mandates that what is understood as a whole be pure and without sin, and mixed with no evil and unacceptable [to it]. We understand the hand, by all means, as that which administers the common things of the Church for the needs of the commandments, whose praise it is to be made like the nature of the head, according to that which is pure and free from sin. And the hand becomes pure, B when through polishing it scrapes away everything that hinders its beauty. For just as those who form marble into the likeness of an animal carve and engrave into the stone through the polishing process, and when those things are removed, the copy is fashioned toward the archetypal form, so too, regarding the beauty of the hands of the body of the Church, many things must be scraped away through the polishing of our thoughts, so that the hand may truly become golden and untarnished. It is, of course, manifest to all what those things are which, if not removed, damage the beauty of the hand: for example, the desire to please men, the love of glory, the greed for gain, looking only to what appears, seeking to negotiate some renown for oneself through the things at hand, abusing the preparation of the commandments for one’s own luxury and pleasure. One must scrape away all these and suchlike things with the instruments of the thoughts, and leave only that pure and unadulterated gold of the moral choice, C which is made like the untarnished head. And what is said would become clearer to us through the word of the Apostle, who, having called God faithful, deems that nothing else is to be sought in stewards than that one be found faithful; thus having written the phrase: “For the rest, it is sought in stewards that one be found faithful” (I Cor. IV, 2). Thus, the faithful and wise steward, being as a hand to the Church, through his life imitating his own wise Master, renders the hand of the body golden, in likeness to the head. Such a hand was not in the body of the apostles that Judas—the pitiable and wretched, or rather, the detestable and abominable one, who, having been entrusted with the stewardship of the poor, did not scrape away the leprosy of the love of money; but being a guardian of the money-bag because of thieves, he became his own thief, D stealing with his own hands what was in his hands, and looking not toward the commandment, but toward the money—the enjoyment of which became what? A voluntary hanging, an alienation from life, the total destruction of the soul, an evil memorial extending to all time after him. Therefore, it is necessary for the hands to be polished and carved, so that, with the evil things that have grown upon them removed, the remaining...
gold might correspond in its appearance to the beauty of the head.
741B Moreover, the word "Tharsis" has many meanings according to the custom of the Holy Scriptures, and it is not always found to signify the same thing. For its meaning is often transferred to something blameworthy, and often to something divine and blessed. For example, at the time when Jonah the prophet was fleeing from the presence of God, he sought a ship going to Tharsis. And the great David says that the ships of Tharsis are broken by a vehement spirit. By this "vehement spirit," I think he refers to the one which appeared to the disciples gathered in the upper room, which was first known by hearing, as if a violent wind were rushing along, and afterwards was also made manifest to the eyes, fashioned into the shape of tongues and likened to the radiant nature of fire, by which is crushed the vice that spreads in many ways over human nature, which the Prophet called the ships of Tharsis. These, then, are the things by which this name denotes the worse things.
C But the great Ezekiel, when describing the vision of the divine manifestation that was once offered to him, signifies the form of one of those divine spectacles with this word, saying: "And its appearance was as the appearance of Tharsis." Those who have carefully examined the nuances of the Hebrew words state that by this term in the prophecy is signified something that is devoid of color, intelligible, and incorporeal. Since, therefore, the meaning of this word is twofold, and it is evident to everyone that it is here taken in the better sense (for it could not have been used in an encomium, insofar as it denotes a blameworthy thing), the order of our discourse demands that we consider this now regarding the hands that are being praised: namely, that they, of their own accord, as if by turning and wearing away everything in them that was superfluous and corporeal, pass over to the divine lot that is comprehensible only to the mind, having shaken off every thick and heavy affection for the things of this life. D Such is the sort of thing that stone-cutters are said to perform on a mass of emerald. For from that which is not clear, but earthy, by wearing it away with a whetstone, they leave only that which is undiminished, in which is seen a certain green, olive-colored splendor.
And it seems to me that the divine Apostle provides a clearer interpretation of this sentiment, advising in one of his writings that we must strip away the affection for things that fall under sight, and strive with the desires of the soul toward that which cannot be seen. "For we look not," he says, "at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen. For the things which are seen are temporal; but the things which are not seen are eternal." These things, therefore, we have understood in this encomium of the hands, how they, having departed from material attachment, become undefiled, being transformed by the choice of the soul toward that which is immaterial and intelligible. For, he says, "His hands are rounded, golden, full of Tharsis."
A The sequence of the discourse now requires us to examine what follows concerning the belly. The words are thus: "His belly is an ivory tablet upon a sapphire stone." At the time when the legislator of nature handed down to Moses the law inscribed on stone tablets, he called those very tablets stone tablets, on which the divine characters were inscribed [a]. For thus he addresses Moses in his own oracle concerning these very things: "Ascend to me into the mount, and be there, and I will give thee the stone tablets, the law and the commandments [b]." According to these things, however, after the law had, through the evangelical brightness, stripped away, as if by polishing, whatever was corporeal and earthy, the thing receiving the letters is no longer a stone tablet, but one made of bright and freshly polished ivory. For in this passage, that which receives the edicts and laws of God, indicated by the term "belly," is said to be an ivory tablet upon a sapphire stone. B And I think that this corporeal example must first be made clear to the discourse, and thus we must then proceed to the contemplation of the words indicated. Boxwood is a certain dense and whitish wood, from which those who wish to write make tablets for themselves. Such a tablet, therefore, prepared for the use of writing, even if it happens to be made of other material, is called a "pyxis" (as if one were to say "boxen-thing") by a certain improper usage of the word. Therefore, when we hear the word "pyxis," we understand a certain smooth instrument apt for receiving letters; and since the word is a general one for all such tablets, for this reason the species of the material is added here also. For he does not say that the work of this tablet is made of wood, C but of ivory. It is said that such bone has such density and solidity that it remains incorrupt for the longest time, and receives no damage from time. But the sapphire, because its color imitates the sky, refreshes the tired eyes of those who are studiously intent upon the tablet inscribed with letters; for it is so ordered by nature that a splendor of this kind refreshes the eyes. Such, therefore, is the example to which the belly of the Church, being praised, is compared in this encomium. Yet, when I hear the book of prophecy using this exhortation in the person of God, "Write this vision clearly upon a tablet," I ponder with myself what it is fitting to understand by the word "belly" in the body of the Lord, D which is praised here. For since he desires that divine vision to be clearly inscribed upon a tablet, perhaps by the name of "belly" he denotes the purity of the heart, in which we inscribe the divine visions through memory. Just as He who opened the mouth of the great Ezekiel, and placed in it the head of the book, full of writing on both sides, both on the outside and on the inside, says to him: "Thy mouth shall eat, and thy belly shall be filled [c]." By calling the rational part of the soul, in which it had deposited the divine teachings, a "belly." In a similar way we also know that the great Jeremiah called his heart—which was strangely afflicted by those sad thoughts—a belly, when
A he says: "I am pained in my belly, and the senses of my heart are agitated." If it is necessary to bring forward the most authoritative teaching from the divine voice that guides us toward this interpretation, we say this: our Lord spoke to those who believed, saying that rivers of living water flow from the belly of those who believe in him. The words are as follows: "He who believes in me, as the Scripture says, out of his belly shall flow rivers of living water." Through all these things that have been said, we are led to understand the "pure heart" by the name of the "belly," which becomes a tablet for the divine law; for those who, as the Apostle says, show the work of the law written in their hearts, not with ink but with the Spirit of the living God, with such letters engraved upon the soul, not on stone tablets, as the Apostle also says, but on the tablet of the heart—which is pure, smooth, and shining. B For the ruling part of the soul ought to be of such a nature that the memory of the divine oracles may be stamped upon it clearly and without confusion, fashioned as it were by some distinct and visible characters. And to such a tablet, the sapphire is beautifully added to complete the praise of the belly, for the luster of the sapphire is sky-blue. This enigma counsels us that our heart should desire and look upon the things that are above, where it has deposited its treasure, and there find rest for its gaze, so that it may not grow weary in attending to the divine commandments, as the heavenly hope refreshes the faculty of sight that resides in the eyes of the soul.
Then the praise of the belly is followed by the encomium of the legs. C For it says: "His legs are marble pillars, founded upon golden bases." For wisdom has many pillars in the house that she has built for herself. Likewise, many pillars supported the tabernacle of the testimony, adorned with diverse materials; their capitals and bases were of gold, while the middle part was decorated with a kind of silver covering. But the Bride calls the pillars of the Church (for the Church is the house, as the Apostle says: "How one ought to conduct himself in the house of God") marble, standing upon golden bases. That the Bride is in harmony with the wisdom of Bezalel in the description of beauty, seeing that she—just as he did—has adorned the head and the bases with gold, is clear to everyone who is familiarly acquainted with the writings concerning the tabernacle. D For just as he, having adapted a golden head to each of the pillars, also sets each upon a golden base, so in this place she who looks purely upon the beauty of the Bridegroom says that his head is pure and unblemished gold (for this is what the term *Cephas* signifies), and that his legs are founded upon golden bases. And whatever sense we are to take these enigmas concerning the pillars in, if we agree with the holy man Paul as his disciples, we shall not wander from the true meaning. For he designates the outstanding apostles, Peter, James, and John, as pillars;
- A lumnas appellavit. And since it is necessary to learn how one can become a column, so that we also might become worthy of such a name, let us again hear this from the wisdom of Paul, who says that the church is the pillar and foundation of the truth. Therefore, truth is gold, which also becomes the base for the legs, and which brings some adornment to the hands and the head. And if one should transfer the word "foundation" to the nature of marble, he will not err; so that the meaning of the words is of this kind: that the legs of the body are marble columns, that is, those who, by a brilliant life and sound doctrine, support and hold up the common body of the Church; through whom the foundation of faith stands firm, the course of virtue is completed, and the whole body is lifted up in the leaps of divine hope. These things are perfectly accomplished through these two things, namely, truth and firmness: so that gold is adapted to truth, which, according to the voice of Paul, is and is called the foundation of the divine construction. For thus he says: "For other foundation can no man lay than that is laid, which is Jesus Christ." But Christ is the truth, in which the legs, which are the columns of the Church, are founded. By marble, let us understand the brilliance of life and consistency, and immutability in B affection toward those things which are good. But because there are many columns in the tabernacle of the testimony, and likewise many columns supporting the house of wisdom, while meanwhile two are sufficient here to support the whole body, perhaps the purpose of this enigma should be referred to another meaning. For I think that this is asserted by those things: namely, that although the instructions from the Law toward virtue are manifold, and many are the precepts of wisdom, yet they all look toward the same goal; he [the Lord] knew that the concise and easily numbered word of the Gospel leads us to the perfection of a life in accordance with virtue, which had been contracted into a few things. For the Lord says: "On these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets." But it is all the same in effect, whether you sustain a weight suspended from you, or one laid upon you. For the strain of the strength of him who bears some weight is stretched in the same way in both cases. For it is said that he bears it equally, whether the burden is suspended, or he bears something with his hand placed beneath. Since, therefore, the Lord says that the whole law and the prophets hang from these two commandments, C and yet the bride mentions that the body is borne by two columns resting on golden foundations, we shall do well if, for the contemplation of this enigma concerning the legs, we apply those two commandments. The Lord calls one of them the first, and the other similar to the first. For He says that to love God with all one's heart, and soul, and strength, is the first commandment; but to love one's neighbor as oneself, and that the power of that commandment is equal to that of the first. Paul also, while he builds up that great Timothy as a kind of house that might receive God, places these two columns in him, of which the one
A he names faith, and the other he names conscience. By faith, he signifies love toward God from the whole heart and soul and strength; and by a good conscience, he signifies an affectionate disposition toward one's neighbor. Perhaps the interpretation now discovered is not contrary to the former thought; for through both of these, the way to become columns—like Peter, and James, and John, and whosoever else after them is worthy of such a name, or has been, or shall be—consists in this. For whoever is perfected in these two commandments is established as a column and a foundation of truth, according to the voice of the Apostle. So that the whole body of truth rests, as it were, upon two legs of these two accomplishments, supported by that golden foundation of the base according to the faith, which imparts to the mind an unwavering and immutable steadfastness and consistency in every good thing.
After these praises, as if recapitulating the entire beauty of the bridegroom in a few words, she says: B *His appearance is as chosen Lebanon, as the cedars. His throat is sweetness, and he is altogether desire; this is my kinsman, and this is my neighbor, O daughters of Jerusalem.* For I think that in this she signifies more clearly that the praise of the bridegroom consists in that beauty which falls under the gaze. And I understand "that which falls under the eyes" as that which the Apostle makes into a kind of body, by gathering together the individual members that complete the whole Church. For the bride says that one aspect of him is those myriads of cedars by which Lebanon is surrounded on all sides. She indicates by these words that nothing lowly or abject contributes to the beauty of that body, unless it be something sublime, like a cedar, and reaching upward with its top. C But it would be better for us to consider that which was placed first among the comparisons. *His appearance,* she says, *is as chosen Lebanon.* Now, the choice of any thing comes about through the placing of its opposite alongside it. Since, therefore, the name of "good" is homonymous, applying both to that which is truly good, and to that which is not good, but only feigns to be so through deceit, appearing to be what it is not; he who does not err in the judgment of what is good, will not prefer the erroneous and deceptive to that which is exceptionally and selectly good. Therefore, since in this passage she compares the form of the bridegroom to the *chosen* Lebanon, it is concluded with consistent reasoning that we are warned to understand that there are two Lebanons: one, the wicked and rejected, which (as the Prophet speaks) is to be ground down together with its cedars, just like that calf; and another, the chosen and precious, whose beauty is god-befitting and god-like. D And that which is understood through the things said is of this sort: There is one King, properly and truly and primarily, the King of all creation. Yet, nevertheless, the ruler of the darkness of this world also arrogates the royal name to himself. Legions of angels exist under the true King, and legions of demons exist under the prince of the power of darkness. Principalities and powers and dominions are under the King of kings, and Lord
of lords; likewise the other also (as the Apostle says) has empires, powers, and hosts, which shall be brought to nothing, when evil is reduced to non-existence. For these are the words of the Apostle: When he shall have abolished all principality, and all power, and all virtue. The prophet perceives the King of glory sitting upon a throne, high and lifted up; and that one also declares that he will place his own throne above the stars, that he may be like the Most High. The Lord of all has vessels of election in his great house; that one also has vessels of wrath, prepared for destruction. Furthermore, the Lord of angels grants life and peace to the worthy through angels; that one also sends forth fury, and wrath, and affliction through wicked angels. And what need is there to recount individual things, through which that adversary sets himself up against the nature of the Good itself? B
Since, therefore, according to what is sensible, the mountain of Lebanon is a manifest spectacle, shady and dense on all sides with its high cedars, for this reason the mountain is divided by Scripture, through these apparent images, into opposing meanings, being aptly and suitably taken in both senses. And thus one may see the same name among the same prophets, according to the difference of what is signified, applied both in praise and in blame. For now the Lord shatters the cedars of Lebanon, and grinds to powder the whole of Lebanon together with the cedars in it, after the likeness of the calf which was fashioned as an idol in the wilderness. For this reason the prophecy demonstrates that both wickedness itself and every height C arising from it, which exalts itself against the knowledge of God, shall be reduced to non-existence. But now it takes the better meaning, saying: The righteous shall flourish like a palm tree; he shall be multiplied like the cedar that is in Lebanon. For the truly righteous (and the Lord is that righteous one), who for our sake has sprung from the earth, he is that high-crested palm, which, having sprung up in the forest of our nature, becomes a mountain, being multiplied by the cedars of those who through faith strike root in him, which cedars, when they have been planted in the house of God, shall flourish in the courts of our God. And we have understood the Church to be the house, following the Apostle; in which the planting of the cedars of God takes place. And by courts we understand those eternal tabernacles, in which the flourishing and manifestation of good hopes shall occur at the appointed times. Since, therefore, the body of Christ is made complete through the individual members—For the many members become one body, as says the Apostle—for this reason he named the whole beauty of the bridegroom the "chosen Lebanon," distinguishing the difference between this and the rejected Lebanon by the word "chosen." For that is the Lebanon according to Isaiah, falling together with the high ones, when the flower shall have sprung from the root of Jesse, and the rod of power has arisen, from which is transformed [the nature of the lion, and of the leopard, and of the asps...] D
into a certain tame gentleness; so that the lion may dwell with the calf, and the leopard take its rest with the kid, and that little child, who was born for us, may preside over them: whose hand penetrates into the cavern of the asps, and touching the offspring of the asp, dulls their venom. Where these things have happened, the Prophet says that it will come to pass that Lebanon will also fall with its heights. But it would be superfluous to wish to explain with precision those things which this prophecy indicates through enigmas, as they are manifest to all. For who does not know that child born to us? who with his hand touches the asps, whose governance brings the pernicious beasts under the same roof with the tame, forgetful of their natural bitterness? Wherefore, since that Lebanon, which is malice, falls through these things, and also with it the principle of evils falls, and the heights set up against the truth: for this reason the bride of the Lord compares the beauty of the Lord to the elect Lebanon, with these words having been uttered: *His appearance is like the elect Lebanon, as the cedars.*
B She adds also to the throat a fitting encomium, calling it both sweetness and desire. The words are of this kind: *His throat is sweetness, and it is nothing but desire.* And from these words something of this sort occurs to our mind: we are accustomed to call the part which is under the chin the throat, from which they report that sound is shaped, while it flows hither with a certain collision of spirit from the windpipe. Wherefore, since excellent discourses are honeycombs, and the voice is the instrument of discourse, the source of which is from the throat, perhaps he who thinks that the ministers and interpreters of the Word, in whom Christ speaks, are signified by this word, will not stray from the truth. For even that great John, having been asked who he was, called himself a voice, inasmuch as he was the forerunner of the Word; and that blessed Paul gave proof of Christ speaking within him, to whom because he had lent his voice, there was nothing but sweetness C speaking through him. All the prophets likewise, because they had yielded their vocal members to the Spirit sounding within them, were nothing but sweetness, bringing forth divine honey from their throat, as if from a certain fountain, which both kings and private men use healthfully: the enjoyment of which does not diminish desire with satiety, but rather nourishes the longing through the participation of things sought after. For this reason she also called the whole of him desire, as if mapping out the beauty of the object sought by this word in a certain definition: *For it is all,* she says, *desire.* How blessed are those members through which the whole becomes nothing but desire; and which, through perfection in every good, effect a certain lovable charm tempered from all things; D so that the whole—not only what concerns the eyes, what the hands, what the locks, but also on account of the feet, the legs, and finally the throat—is desirable, and not one member is in a worse condition in this excellence of beauty than the rest.
A “This is,” she says, “my beloved, and this is my neighbor, O daughters of Jerusalem.” For having brought everything before their eyes through the description of the Word—the markings by which it was possible for the disclosure of the one sought to become manifest—she then makes use of the demonstrative word, saying, “This is he,” the one who is sought, who, by becoming our brother, having sprung from Judah, became the neighbor of the one who fell among thieves, having healed his wounds with oil and wine and bandages, and having lifted him onto his own beast, and having rested him in the inn, and having provided two denarii for his life, and having promised, upon his return, to pay back what was spent beyond the command. B Indeed, it is clear to what each of these things looks. For when the lawyer, who was tempting the Lord, wishing to show himself above the others and in his pride rejecting equality with the rest, asked, “And who is my neighbor?” then the Word, in the form of a narrative, explains the entire benevolent dispensation, having recounted the descent of man from the place above, the ambush of the thieves, the removal of the incorruptible garment, the wounds of sin, and the advance of death to halfway into our nature, while the soul remained immortal; as well as the useless passing by of the Law, neither priest nor Levite having healed the wounds of him who had fallen to the thieves—for it is impossible that the blood of bulls and goats should take away sins—but rather Him who clothed Himself with the entire human nature through the first-fruits of the mass, in which was the portion of every nation—both Jew and Samaritan, and Greek, and all men universally; [He who] stood by at the place of man’s affliction along with the body, which is the beast of burden, and healed the wounds, and rested him upon His own beast, and made the benevolent dispensation an inn for him, in which all those who are weary and heavy-laden find rest. He who has come into Him, entirely receives in himself the One in whom he has come, as the Word says: “He who abides in me, I also in him.” Having received, therefore, within his own capacity, he acts as the innkeeper within himself for the Incomprehensible, from whom he receives the two coins: of which one is love for God with all one’s heart, and the other is love for one’s neighbor as oneself, just as the lawyer also answered. C But since “not the hearers of the law are just before God, but the doers of the law shall be justified,” it is necessary not only to receive these two coins—I mean faith in the Divine and a good conscience toward those of the same race—but it is also necessary for him to contribute something himself through works toward the fulfillment of these commandments. For this reason, the Lord says to the innkeeper that everything done by him regarding the care of the one afflicted will, at His second coming, be repaid according to the worthiness of the effort. D Therefore, He who became our neighbor through such benevolence, who became our beloved—having sprung from Judah for us—
A this is He whom the Word of the Bride points out to the young women; this is He who is declared by the undefiled Bride to the daughters of Jerusalem, through whom she says: "For this is my kinsman, and this is my neighbor, O daughters of Jerusalem." May we also, through the identified marks, find and attain Him for the salvation of our souls, through the guidance of the Holy Spirit, to whom be glory for all ages of ages. Amen.
HOMILY XV
CAP. V, v. 17. *Whither has thy kinsman gone, O fair one among women? Whither has thy kinsman turned, and we shall seek him with thee?* CAP. VI, v. 1. *My kinsman has gone down into his garden, to the phials of aroma, to pasture in the gardens, and to gather lilies. 2. I am to my kinsman, and my kinsman to me, who pastures among the lilies. 3. Thou art beautiful, my neighbor, like goodwill, lovely as Jerusalem, a phenomenon like armies arrayed. B 4. Turn away thine eyes from me, for they have made me fly. 5. Thy hair is like the flocks of goats which have appeared from Gilead. Thy teeth are like the flocks of shorn ones, which have ascended from the washing-place, all of which are bearing twins, and there is no sterile one among them. 6. Like a scarlet thread are thy lips, and thy speech is elegant. Like the rind of a pomegranate are thy cheeks, besides what is hidden within thee. 7. Sixty are the queens, and eighty the concubines, and of the young women there is no number. 8. One is my dove, my perfect one. Unique is she to her mother, elect to her who bore her.*
That Apostle Philip, who is reported to have been from the city of Peter and Andrew—for this seems to me a kind of encomium of Philip, that he should be a fellow-citizen of those brothers who deserve the first admiration in the Gospel through the history concerning them. For Andrew, after the Baptist had pointed out who that Lamb was who would take away the sin of the world, not only perceived this mystery himself, following behind the One pointed out, and learning where He stays; but he also brings the joyful news to his own brother, that He whom the prophets had long before foretold had arrived. C But he, having nearly anticipated the hearing by faith, attaches himself with his whole soul to that Lamb, and together with the name, he himself is also changed by the Lord to a more divine condition; instead of Simon, he was both called Peter and became so. Yet to Abraham and to Sarah, the Lord imparts the blessing from the names themselves only after many divine apparitions, having appointed the one father, and the other a princess, by the change of names. In the same way, Jacob also, after the wrestling that lasted the whole night, obtains the surname and power of Israel. D But the great Peter did not arrive at this grace by increasing little by little, but as soon as he heard his brother, he believed in the Lamb, and was perfected by faith, and having been joined to the Rock, he became Peter. Therefore, this Philip, who is worthy to be a fellow-citizen of such and so great men, since he became an "invention" of the Lord, just as the Gospel says, that he finds the
A Jesus, was appointed a follower of the Word who said: "Follow me." And having drawn near to the true light, he drew unto himself, as a lamp, the participation of that light; and he illuminates Nathanael, having held up the lamp of the mystery of godliness before him, through the words which he says: "Him of whom Moses and the prophets wrote, we have found, Jesus of Nazareth, the son of Joseph." Now, because Nathanael had received the Gospel with understanding, having been instructed with all precision by the prophecy regarding the mystery concerning the Lord, and knowing indeed that the first manifestation in the flesh would be in Bethlehem, but that because of His dwelling in Nazareth, He would be called a Nazarene; looking towards both these things and reasoning that, while it was necessary on account of the economy of the birth in the flesh that the mystery of the cave, the swaddling clothes, and the manger should take place in David’s Bethlehem, yet Galilee—which was a place of the Gentiles—would also one day share in the name through the Word who would willingly dwell among the Gentiles; and because of this having agreed with him who had shown him the light of knowledge, and having said: "Can any good thing come out of Nazareth?"—then Philip becomes a guide to grace, saying: "Come and see." By which, Nathanael, having abandoned the fig tree of the Law, whose shadow hindered him from the participation of the light, reaches Him who causes the leaves of the fig tree to wither B on account of the barrenness of good deeds. For this reason, He is also testified to by the Word as being a genuine Israelite, and not a spurious one, since in the guilelessness of his purpose he showed the character of the patriarch pure within himself. "Behold," He says, "an Israelite in whom there is no guile."
But to what this narrative in the prologue looks, is entirely manifest to the more learned listeners from the reading that we have proposed from the Song of Songs, in accordance with the order. For just as Andrew was led to the Lamb by the voice of John, while Nathanael, having been brought to the light by Philip and having stepped out from the shadow of the Law that surrounded him, arrives at the true light; so also do the young maidens use as a guide, for the finding of the Good announced to them, the soul perfected in beauty, saying to her: "Whither has thy kinsman gone, O thou fair among women? Whither did thy kinsman turn, and we will seek him with thee?" C The virgin souls bring the inquiry to the teacher in order. For first, they made the discourse concerning what He is, in the question that preceded this statement, saying: "What is thy kinsman, O thou fair among women?" Having been taught through the aforementioned signs—that He is white and ruddy, and the remaining things by which the form of the One sought is described—they now inquire about where He is. Therefore they say, "Whither has thy kinsman gone, or whither did he turn?"—not that they might learn where He is, so that they may worship in that place where His feet stood, or whither D He looked, for the sake of knowing absolutely where He is;
A but rather that, having been instructed whither He looks, they may likewise station themselves, so that His glory may also be visible to them—He whose appearing brings salvation to those who behold Him, as that Prophet says: "Show us Thy face, and we shall be saved" (Ps. LXXIX, 4). The instructress, after the example of Philip who said, "Come and see," offers herself as a guide to the virgins, so that they might attain Him whom they were seeking. And in place of his saying, "See," she points out the place in which is He whom they seek, and whither He looks. For she says: "My kinsman has descended into his garden to the phials of perfume." Up to this point, it is indicated by the Word where He is. But from this point on, the instructress shows by the Word what He beholds and where He looks, saying: "That He may feed in the gardens and gather lilies." This is the instruction of the Word, telling the maidens whereby they learn both where He is and where He looks. B
It is absolutely necessary that we also perceive the utility of these words that proceeded from the Holy Spirit, and this through spiritual contemplation. When, therefore, we hear these words: "My kinsman has descended into his garden," we learn the mystery of the Gospel, as each of these terms makes known to us a secret matter. For that God, who in that very thing was manifested in the flesh, because He rose from Judah, and shone upon the nations sitting in darkness and the shadow of death, is rightly and with good reason called by the name of kinsman by her who was betrothed to Him for an eternal union, because she was a sister of the people sprung from Judah. The Word, however, "descended," signifies that on account of him who went down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and fell among robbers (Luc. x, 30 sqq.), He Himself also descended to the one fallen among enemies: by which is signified the humbling that occurred from His ineffable majesty down to the lowliness of our nature. C From the enigma of the garden we learn that the true husbandman is planting anew His own field—ourselves, namely, mankind. For we are His field, just as Paul speaks (I Cor. III, 6 sqq.). Since, therefore, He is the One who at the beginning of things cultivated in Paradise the planting of human nature which the heavenly Father had sown, but the solitary and savage boar ravaged that garden—that is, us—and laid waste the divine field, for this very reason He descended, so that He might cause the desert garden to be decorated again through the planting of virtues; leading the pure and divine fountain of doctrine, as if by certain streams of speech, for the nourishing of such plants. The "phials of perfume," hitherto in the description of the bridegroom's beauty, had been accommodated for the eulogy of the cheeks, by which spiritual foods are broken down for the use of those being fed; D but here they are taken as the place where the bridegroom abides. From this we learn that the bridegroom does not dwell in that soul where there is a certain solitude of virtues, but rather in that which, according to what has just been indicated, is a phial of perfume and produces ointments. Whoever is of such a character is a crater of wisdom, receiving into himself the divine and unadulterated wine, through which he becomes to
exhilarated. A The words that follow indicate with what kind of pastures the flocks of that noble Shepherd are fattened. For He does not drive the sheep into some desolate and thorny places, so that they might graze on grassy vegetation; but He sets before them as food the spices of gardens, and instead of grass, the lily, which He says is gathered by the Shepherd for the nourishment of the sheep. B By these words it is signified, indeed, how wisely that Nature and Power which encompasses and contains all things makes of itself a place and a dwelling-place in the purity of those who receive it; and in whom the garden, cultivated in many ways through virtues, flourishes with the flowers of lilies and pours forth abundant fruits of spices. For the lilies indeed are an enigma of the splendor and purity of the mind; but the fragrance of the spices signifies an affection that abhors the stench of sins. He says, therefore, that he who presides over rational flocks spends his time in such things, pasturing them in gardens, and cropping and gathering lilies for the food of the sheep; which things the great Paul sets before the sheep, offering to us from the divine storehouse the nourishment gathered from the lilies. These things are: whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is just, whatever is lovely, whatever is holy, whatever is reputable; if there is any virtue, and if there is any praise. These are, in my opinion, the lilies with which the flock is fed by the noble Shepherd and Teacher. C The next passage, which the pure and unspotted bride makes, saying: "I am to my kinsman, and my kinsman is to me," is a rule and a definition of all perfection in virtue. For we learn through these words that we ought to have nothing in ourselves except God, and that the purified soul ought not to look to anything else; but that it ought to cleanse itself so entirely from all material things and thoughts, that, being wholly transferred to the intelligible and immaterial, it renders itself an most-vivid image of the archetypal beauty. And just as one who sees on a panel a depiction accurately conformed to an archetype declares the form of both to be one, saying that the beauty of the image is the beauty of the archetype itself, and that the archetype is clearly seen in the likeness; D in the same way, she who says, "I am to my kinsman, and my kinsman is to me," says that her own beauty is conformed to the example of Christ, after she has recovered the first blessedness of our nature, which had been adorned according to the image and likeness of the First, true, and sole Beauty. And just as happens with a mirror, when it is fashioned skillfully and appropriately for its use, it accurately reflects on its pure surface the character of the face falling upon it: so the soul, after having prepared itself appropriately for its use, and having cast off every material stain, has imprinted upon itself the pure image of uncorrupted beauty. Therefore, she utters the voice
A from that mirror, which is endowed with the power of choice and is endowed with a soul: "After I look upon the face of my kinsman in my whole being, through this very thing the whole beauty of his form is beheld in me." Paul imitate these words most clearly when he says that by living to God, he has become dead to the world, and that it is Christ alone who lives in him. For when he says, "To me to live is Christ," he cries out by this word that none of the human and material passions live in him—neither pleasure, nor pain, nor anger, nor fear, nor cowardice, nor agitation, nor pride, nor boldness, nor memory tenacious of injuries, nor envy, nor affection of the mind toward vengeance, nor avarice, nor lust for honor or glory, nor anything of those things which pollute the soul with a certain affection toward them; but (he says) He alone remains for me, who is none of these. For having scraped away—as if by polishing—everything that does not fall into His nature, I have nothing in myself that is not in Him; and for this reason, "to me to live is Christ," or, as the bride says: "I to my kinsman, and my kinsman to me;" which is sanctification, and purity, and immortality, and light, and truth, and such other things as pasture my soul, not in grass or shrubs, but in the splendors of the saints. For the nature of lilies, since it is adorned with B magnificent color, signifies that such is the meaning of these words. And therefore He who pastures among the lilies leads His flock into the meadows of lilies, that the splendor of the Lord our God may be upon us. For that which is nourished is altogether conformed to the appearance of that by which it is fed. What do I mean? Let there be, for the sake of argument, some hollow vessel made of glass, in which whatever is cast might be, whether any of the pure and splendid things. Therefore, by placing the splendor of the lilies into the souls, He renders the souls splendid through them, as the form placed within shines through to the outside. But in order that the meaning may be yet clearer for us, we say that the soul is nourished by virtues, and that the virtues are called lilies in an enigma: he who has been filled by these through a good manner of life makes himself visible, while he expresses the form of each virtue through his own conduct. Consider a pure lily to be modesty, and justice, and fortitude, and prudence, llbracketC and whatever things are true, as the Apostle says, whatever things are honorable, whatever things are amiable, whatever things are just, whatever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise. For all these things, after they have penetrated into the soul, are demonstrated through a pure life: and at the same time they adorn him who contains them, and they themselves receive some ornamentation from the one who contains them. Wherefore, let us hear in what follows, in the order indicated thus far, what she receives from Him who glorifies those who glorify Him—she who has surrendered her whole self to her kinsman, and has received within her own form the beauty of the Beloved. For the Word says to the bride: "You are fair, my neighbor, as benevolence; beautiful as
A Jerusalem, wonder as an arrayed host." That the glory is sent up by the heavenly host to God in the highest on account of the benevolence toward men, in the ears of the shepherds when they saw peace brought to pass on earth; and that Jerusalem is called the city of the great King by the Master of all creation, must be manifest to anyone who has conversed with the evangelical words, so that through these he would not be ignorant of what beauty the Word bears witness to in the bride through the comparison with Jerusalem and with benevolence. For it is clear that the Word indicates this regarding her, through the striving ascent, until the soul is elevated to such a point that it reaches out toward the wonders of the Master. For if the God who is in the highest, who is in the bosom of the Father, is mingled with blood and flesh on account of His benevolence toward men, so that peace might come to be on earth, it is clear that she who has conformed her own beauty to this benevolence is imitating Christ in her attainments, becoming for others that which Christ became for the nature of men; just as Paul also, that imitator of Christ, used to act, excommunicating himself from life so that he might exchange his own suffering for the salvation of Israel, saying: "I prayed to be anathema from Christ for the sake of my brothers, my kinsmen according to the flesh." To whom it appropriately befits the bride to say what has been said, that such is the beauty of your soul as the benevolence of the Master became for us, who emptied Himself, taking the form of a servant, and gave Himself as a ransom for the life of the world, and for our sakes became poor, being rich, so that we might live in His death, and become rich in His poverty, and reign in the form of His servitude. B And her greatness, and the beauty of Jerusalem, are likewise indicated—the Jerusalem above, that is, the free [city], the mother of the free, which we have learned from the voice of the Master to be the city of the great King. For the one that has contained within itself the Incontainable, so that God dwells and walks within it, being adorned by the beauty of the One dwelling in it, becomes a heavenly Jerusalem, having received that beauty upon itself. But the beauty of the city of the King and [its] elegance is, without doubt, the beauty of the King Himself. For He is, according to the word of the psalm, the elegance and the beauty, whom the prophecy addresses in this way: "In your elegance and your beauty, proceed, succeed, and reign, for the sake of truth, and meekness, and justice." For by these the Divine is characterized—I mean by truth, and justice, and meekness. The soul, therefore, that is formed in such beauties, becomes fair as Jerusalem, adorned with the beauty of the King. C But these things clearly possess the praise of the beauty of the bride, being completed by the comparison with both benevolence and Jerusalem.
A That what follows is a panegyric of the bride, we do not doubt; but the meaning according to which she who is thought worthy of such praise is glorified, it is not easy to learn at first glance. For the text says: "Stupor as armies set in array." Perhaps someone following what has been previously observed would say that through the comparison with the supramundane nature, the majesty of the bride is magnified by the discourse in these praises. For those are the "armies set in array," where the Powers always rule; the Dominions are perpetually in possession of things; the Thrones are firmly established; the Principalities remain unenslaved; the Powers praise God without ceasing, and the flight of the Seraphim does not rest, nor does their station change; and the Cherubim do not cease to support the high and lifted up throne; and the ministers do not cease to perform the work and to hear the words. Since, therefore, these powers have been established by God, and the order of the intellectual and supramundane powers remains unconfused for eternity, with no malice overturning that most excellent arrangement, for this reason also the soul that does everything in order and decently in imitation of them excites such admiration for itself as those ordered B armies deserve. For the word "stupor" implies the sense of being awe-struck. But if by "awe-struck" we understand admiration, we shall not stray from the truth.
The passage that follows next according to the sequence renders the persons ambiguous, both as to by whom it is said and to whom it was said: for it says, "Turn away your eyes from me. For they have made me winged." For to some6 it seems that these things are said by the Lord to a pure soul; but I think it better to suppose that the text should be applied to the bride. For I find the meaning of what is signified by the discourse more suitable to her. I will briefly explain what has occurred to me. I have often heard the God-inspired Scripture make mention of wings of God. At one time the prophecy says: "In the shelter of your wings you will cover me"; and, "Under his wings you will hope." Again, Moses in that famous song depicts this in these words, as if C tracing it, where he says: "By spreading his wings, he received them." And one could not say that what is spoken by the Lord to Jerusalem contradicts this sentiment, looking at the sequence itself: "How often have I willed to gather your children, just as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings!" Therefore, if the God-inspired discourse defines in some ineffable way that there are wings around the divine nature, and if the first making of man testifies that our nature was made according to the image and likeness of God, it is entirely clear that what was made according to his image possessed in all things a likeness to its archetype. But the original exemplar had wings, according to the opinion of the sacred Letters; therefore it follows that human nature also was thus D
fashioned, so that it might even have in its wings the divine likeness. It is manifest, however, that the term "wings" must be transferred, through a certain figurative contemplation, to a meaning befitting God, whereby power, beatitude, and an incorruptible state, and things of such a nature, are signified by the name of wings. Since, therefore, these things were also in man, so long as he was like to God in all respects; but afterwards the inclination toward wickedness despoiled us of such wings—for, having become outside the shelter of the wings of God, we were also stripped of our own wings—for this reason the grace of God appeared, enlightening us, so that, having laid aside impiety and worldly desires, we might again grow wings through holiness and justice. If, therefore, these things are not removed from the truth, B it is fitting that it be confessed by the bride that the grace produced in her came from the divine eyes. For as soon as God looked upon us with the eyes of his philanthropy, we also were re-winged according to our ancient grace. These things, then, I think, are indicated by the words which David, praying in the sixteenth psalm, says to the Lord, that "Let thy eyes behold right things," that is to say, my own. "For thou hast tried my heart," he says, "thou hast visited me by night; thou hast tried me with fire, and iniquity was not found in me." It is therefore the same, whether one says, "Let thy eyes behold right things," or, "Let not thy eyes look upon the contrary." For he who has seen the straight has not seen the crooked; and he who has not seen the crooked has altogether beheld the straight. Thus, through the removal of the contrary, he demonstrates the good to the divine eyes, by which the soul is again re-winged—that soul which, through the disobedience of the first-created, had molted its wings. This, therefore, we have understood from what has been said: "When thy eyes look down upon me, they are turned away from the contrary." For they will not see in me anything of the things that are contrary to me. For this reason there comes to me from thy eyes the ability to be winged again, and to take up through the virtues the wings of the dove, by which the power of flight is granted to me; so that I may fly and take my rest, that rest, namely, in which God rested from his works.
Further, after these utterances, there follows a description of the bride's beauty, the Word honoring C each of those things that contribute to her elegance by means of a fitting comparison. For the beauty of her hair is praised, and the arrangement of her teeth, and the bloom upon her lip, and the sweetness of her voice, and the redness of her cheek. And the praise for each of these things mentioned is fulfilled for the bride by means of a certain suitable comparison and presentation. For her hair has been likened to the flocks of goats that have appeared from Galaad; and the flocks of the shorn, rejoicing in twin births, fulfill the encomium of the teeth by means of the likeness; with a scarlet cord
thy lips, and thy speech is beautiful. As a piece of a pomegranate is thy fruit, beside thy silence. A Since all these matters have been sufficiently explored by our previous inquiries, it would be superfluous to cause any annoyance to our discourse by repeating the same contemplations. If, however, there is anyone who thinks that something ought to be said about them even now—for the sake of those who have not recently heard us—we shall briefly run through the meaning of these enigmas. The hairs of the body possess a peculiar nature, distinct from the rest of the body. For while the entire body is governed by the sensitive faculty, without which no one could live—since sensation itself is the life of the body—we see that the hair alone is both a part of the body and yet devoid of sensation. This property of this part is made evident by the very fact that it does not experience pain from burning or cutting, as the rest of the body does. B Since, therefore, according to the words of Paul, the hair is the glory of the woman, as it adorns the head with its tresses, we are taught by this laudation of the bride’s hair that those who are understood to be on the bride’s head, and through whom the glory of the Church is increased, ought to have their senses under their own control, and through wisdom hide their sensitivity. Just as the book of Proverbs says: "The wise hide their perception," being those who do not make a judgment about a good thing from its appearance, nor test the good by taste, nor C entrust the judgment of the good to smell, touch, or any other organ of sense; but with every sense deadened, they embrace and seek after the goods presented to the mind through the soul alone. And in this way they adorn that woman, the Church, neither puffing themselves up with honors nor being compressed into distress by sorrowful things; but in adverse circumstances, like the hair, they show themselves as devoid of sensation, even if there must be a cutting off for the sake of the faith in Christ, or being thrown to the beasts, or into the fire, or having to endure any other of the things that cause suffering, they imitate the insensibility of hair in the experience of painful things. D Such was that Elijah who came up from Galaad, with a rough and parched body, covered with goat-skins, ever undaunted by all the threats of the tyrant. Whoever, therefore, in imitation of the noble spirit in this prophet, raises themselves above this whole world, being destitute, afflicted, tormented in mountains and caves, and in the holes of the earth, of whom the world is not worthy, these, appearing as a flock around the Head of all, become the glory of the Church, ascending together with that Galaadite to the heavenly grace.
But mention of the animal of the goat has been made in this praise of the hair, perhaps because the nature of such
A an animal is suitably fashioned for the production of hair, so that the animal itself is a certain image of the adornment of hair, since it has naturally dense hair. Or because it walks surely over rocks without any stumbling of its feet, and moves about the peaks of mountains, making its way boldly through places difficult to traverse and precipitous; which will aptly be applied to those who successfully accomplish the rough path of virtue. Perhaps someone might also say that something is added to this praise of the head because this animal was utilized by Moses for many legal sacrifices. I know also that in the enigmas of the book of Proverbs, among the four things that proceed well, the he-goat leading the herd of goats is counted. And our conjecture concerning this B is of such a kind: Any undertaking, having been begun by some one person, is distributed, as it were, into many; just as in the smith’s art, Scripture, calling Thobel the discoverer of the art, refers to him the knowledge of all those who, after him, engaged in the working of iron. In the same way, Abel was the first originator of pastoral life, Cain of agriculture, Nembrod of the art of hunting, Noe of viticulture, and Enos is said to have been the first to hope in God; and it is possible to learn many such things from the holy Scripture, namely that after one person has instituted something, this very institution then flowed into human life by imitation. Therefore, since Elias conducted himself with such surpassing excellence in divine zeal above others, having become, as it were, the leader of the rest in this regard, whoever, following after him, imitated his zeal and followed the footprints of liberty in this C prophet, these have become a herd of goats for him who led the way in such a life; they who become the glory and praise of the Church, being ranked into the adornment of hair, from which sensible life has been separated and estranged. Through similar things, he also provides praise for the teeth. These would be those who nourish the body of the Church, whom he wishes always to be seen as pure, as if just come from the bath, with their hair not overgrown, as if freshly shorn; and who, meanwhile, are bearing twins in the generation of virtues, becoming parents of a double purity—both that which is viewed in the soul and that which is seen in the body—and so may everything that is sterile in the production of good be cast out by these teeth. Now the cord placed upon the lip D signifies in the enigma the measured ministry of the word, which the Prophet named a guard and a door of containment, when in its time the mouth of the word is opened, and in its time is closed again. We have learned from the prophecy of Zacharias that "cord" is a name for a measure, because the angel speaking to him in the vision had in his hands a measuring cord, which men are accustomed to use to measure the earth. But the discourse then most attains its measure when it happens to be colored with redness, which becomes an enigma of the blood of Him who redeemed us. If, therefore, anyone, according to Paul, has Christ speaking in him, who redeemed us by His own blood, he has the measuring cord upon his mouth, adorned with that blood-red dye.
A
The words that follow are an interpretation of the preceding riddle. For he calls that scarlet cord "elegant speech," by which word is signified in turn purity and moderation. For that which is accurately elegant, and shows itself worthy of being viewed in its own proper time of maturity, is neither premature nor late. But when, in the next place, he adorns her cheeks with the rind of the pomegranate, he attributes to the bride a certain signal perfection in goodness. For he intends to signify that her treasure does not lie in some other thing, but that she herself is her own treasure, since she encompasses within herself the preparation of every good. For as that which is edible in the pomegranate is contained by the rind, so also it is demonstrated that the treasure of her interior is contained by that beauty of life which falls under our gaze. This, therefore, is that hidden treasure of hope, the proper fruit of the soul, which is held fast by a virtuous life as if by some rind of a pomegranate. B
But regarding that which is added: "Beyond that which is kept silent within thee," I think it has this meaning: that this praise ought not to be estimated so much by things that fall under our gaze, insofar as these are explained in words, as by those things which are covered by silence, and which escape the indication that is made through words. For just as we establish that what is not speech is silence, so if someone were to say that what is diverse from silence is speech, he would not err. For we keep silent about that which we are unable to declare in words. If, therefore, that which is not contained by speech is silence, it follows that we must entirely think that to be speech which is outside of silence. Wherefore, when he says, "Beyond that which is kept silent within thee," he undoubtedly means this: that the things which can be indicated by speech are indeed excellent and great, but those which are covered by silence and are ineffable C are, in all ways, more excellent and more admirable than those which are spoken, because they exist outside of silence, being greater and more admirable than those things which are produced by speech.
Now let us also hear the encomiums that follow, the meaning of which is similar to that well whose mouth, as history records, was so fortified with a heavy stone that the shepherd girls could not easily enjoy its water; until Jacob, having repaired thither, moved away the stone from the mouth of the well, and having filled the vessels with water, from which the flocks drank, he made it so that they could recreate themselves with water in abundance. D What, then, are those things which we compare with such a well? "There are sixty queens, and eighty concubines, and of maidens there is no number. My dove is one, my perfect one. She is the only one to her mother, the chosen one to her who bore her." Who, therefore, will roll away the stone of this obscurity for us? Who will draw out the water of the hidden meanings, which is situated so deep that our reason cannot reach it? Indeed, I think I do well when I testify to your ears that the understanding of these things falls only upon those to whom the Apostle, in these words, applies...
A Our own poverty, however, is unable to grasp the treasures of the Word set before us. Nevertheless, lest we be condemned for sloth—since a law has been given to us commanding that the sacred Scriptures be searched—we will not shrink from applying a little sweat even to this task.
We say, then, that the philosophy contained in these words sets before us an elegant doctrine through the praises of the Bride. The doctrine is of this kind: that the world is not created and renewed according to the same proportion and order. For when, at the beginning, the nature of creation began to exist through the divine power, in the case of every created thing, the end and perfection were joined to the beginning without any interval; for all things that came into existence from non-existence attained their perfection together with their beginning. Human nature, too, is among the number of those things which were created, and like the rest of things, it did not move gradually toward its perfection, but was perfect from the moment it began to be. For, as the Word says, "Man was made to the image and likeness of God" (Gen. 1, 26). By these words is indicated the highest and most perfect good among all goods. For what could be found more sublime than that which bears the likeness of God? B Thus, it is clear that in the first creation, without any interval of time, the end appeared along with the beginning, and created things began from perfection.
But after nature, on account of its affection for vice, was condemned to death and fell away from perseverance in the good, it does not recover its perfection suddenly, as it did in its first beginning, but proceeds toward the greater by a certain way, through a certain sequence and order, as it gradually discards the inclination toward contrary things. For in the first creation, there was nothing to prevent the perfection of nature from coinciding with its birth, since there was no vice. But in this secondary restoration, there necessarily accompanies those who return to that first good a certain delay and span of time. This is because our mind, which is held fast by its affection for vice and leans toward coarse things, is joined to evil as if by a surrounding bark; it must, through a becoming way of life, gradually scrape this away as if by scratching it off on every side. C For this reason, we have learned that "there are many mansions in the Father's house" (John 14, 2), since, in proportion to the inclination toward the good and the withdrawal from evil, a reward is prepared for every person. One person is still in the first beginning of choosing the good, having just swum up, as it were, from the depths of a life of vice to the enjoyment of the truth; another has already been increased by a certain addition and growth of the good through diligent effort; another has attained still more because of an extraordinary desire for the good; another has reached a middle path of ascent toward those sublime things; another has even passed through this middle part of the journey; there are also some who have surpassed these, others who have even gone beyond them, and still others who are stretching themselves out toward the upward race. And, in short, according to the diverse differences of their wills, God receives each one into his own rank, fulfilling for all D what is appropriate for their merit.
A And, by B balancing the rewards of good things against those who are lesser, the Word, by what has been set forth in the passages already quoted, invites us to contemplate the difference between the souls that look toward the Bridegroom. For He calls some "maidens" [juvenculas] — whose multitude surpasses every number — while He calls others "concubines," and still others "queens." He defines the number of the concubines as eighty, while the number of the queens reaches sixty. Yet above all these, He places that unique and perfect dove, whom He declares to be the only one belonging to her mother, and the chosen one of her who bore her.
We are led by these divine oracles to understand that those who have but recently emerged, as it were, from the womb of some deception lying far within, being like newborns and not yet fully formed or capable of grasping the Word within themselves, are seen in the infinite multitude to have believed that the doctrine of the sacred mystery is indeed salvific, but they do not yet possess the truth established within them through any science or through the certainty provided by the Word. These are the ones called "maidens," because they are living through the first, "new" spiritual age; having been born through the word of faith, they have not yet, through the appropriate growth, become such that they have reached the prime of marriage, or attained to the "perfect man," or reached the measure of the marriageable age, so as to be able, through the fear of God, to conceive and bring forth a spirit of salvation. Rather, because of their infancy and the imperfection of their minds, they still live with a disposition that is in some way more irrational. Nevertheless, even these are in the number of those who are saved, as the Prophet says: "Thou shalt save both man and beast, O Lord"; calling the more irrational portion of those who are saved, "beasts."
C But concerning those in whom the mind has grown through proper diligence, and who have already left infancy behind, we learn here of a twofold distinction provided by the Word. For while those souls become of one body with the Word, just as the others do, some are joined to Him by a kind of amorous affection—such was the soul of David and that of Paul; the former saying, "It is good for me to be joined to God," and the latter, "Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword?" or, as it is written elsewhere, "Neither life, nor death, nor what is present, nor what is to come, nor any other of the things that exist."
Others, however, avoid the attempts at adultery out of fear of punishment; for they too remain uncorrupted in integrity and sanctification, but, led by fear rather than love, they admit no wickedness. Those, therefore, who through a more perfect disposition are mingled with the purity of God by a longing for incorruptible integrity, are called "queens" because of their share in the Kingdom. Those who cultivate virtue out of fear of threats, the Word calls "concubines." For not yet is any one of them the mother of the King. D
A For how could she be able to do this, who has not yet taken up in herself the unmastered and independent character of virtuous wisdom, but only separates herself from the partnership of evils out of a servile fear? B Examples of the things mentioned, among the queens, are those who are judged worthy of the station on the right hand, to whom the King says: "Come, you who are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you"; while the others, of an inferior rank, would be those to whom the Lord says: "Fear Him who has the authority, after He has killed, to cast into the hell of fire." It seems to me that the difference in numbers signifies this distinction between the two ranks by way of an enigma. What do I mean by this? There are six precepts through which the kingdom of God is prepared for those on the right. Let us conceive each of these as being that master’s talent, which it is fitting for the good and faithful servant to increase tenfold through labor, so that in this way he might enter into the joy of his Lord, having been found faithful in a few things and being set over many. If, therefore, the partnership in the kingdom comes to the soul through these six precepts, and the perfection of the labor in each one is to increase the commandment tenfold, just as that good servant said that his one talent had produced ten talents, we find accordingly that the one queen is expanded into sixty—she who, through the decuplation of the six commandments, has been admitted into the partnership of the kingdom, so that that one [soul] becomes many, divided by the manifold character of the commandments, and is individually expressed in any excellent work. C In this way, therefore, the one is divided into sixty queens, being distinguished and numbered according to the forms of the commandments; and the Bride becomes a partner in Christ's kingdom, having become a multitude of queens, she who was once one, being, as it were, multiplied by the counting of such dignities according to the commandments.
If we have not conjectured unreasonably that the set of six commandments, cultivated in one soul up to a tenfold degree, is signified by way of an enigma through the sixty queens, we say that, consistently, the mystery of the "Eighth" is also signified, somewhat more obscurely, by an enigma through the eighty; looking toward which, those who are tutored by fear are restrained from the partnership of evils. For we have learned this in the Psalms, in which the name "Eighth" is prefixed by way of an inscription; and the voices themselves are entirely those of persons who are, as it were, scourged by the fear of future evils, and who thus bend their ears toward mercy. For he who looks toward the Eighth says to the terrible Judge: "O Lord, do not rebuke me in Your anger, nor discipline me in Your wrath. Have mercy on me, O Lord, for I am weak; heal me, O Lord, for my bones have been troubled." D Add to these whatever else he subsequently sets forth in supplication to the incorruptible Judge: among other things, lamenting also
A For how could it be possible for those condemned to weeping and gnashing of teeth to receive the joy that comes from the remembrance of God? The Prophet says elsewhere that the remembrance of God produces joy. Proposing these and other such things to God, therefore, he who fears the Eighth comes to perceive the participation in mercy, saying: "He has heard the voice of my weeping." Since many blessed fears are indicated by Holy Scripture, there might also be, in proportion to the six commandments, a tenfold increase in these as well; so that he who has been taught by the Psalter how the fear of the Lord is rightly practiced—namely, by "turning away from evil and doing good"—may, like the one who received the mina or the talent, increase the substance of divine fear tenfold through his labor. And thus the soul that holds the second place after the queen, which performs what is good not from love but from fear, expands to the number eighty, showing clearly and distinctly every kind of those things that are rightly performed through fear; so that in this eighth, the account is expanded by tenfold multiplication. By this means, that soul which approaches the good in a servile manner, through fear and not with the affection befitting a bride, becomes a concubine instead of a queen; because of the fear of the Eighth, which it has increased tenfold in its deeds, it reaches the number eighty. B This is what the narrative of the history also commands—that she who performs her duty through an illegitimate, temporary, and ignoble birth should not dwell forever in the same house as the queen; because the servile offspring, regarding the inheritance of the kingdom, is not equal to her noble-born offspring. "Cast out," it says, "the slave woman and her son. For the son of the slave woman shall not inherit with the son of the free woman." But if this contemplation of numbers in the proposed words seems to anyone somewhat forced and, as it were, twisted, let him recall to mind that we protested from the beginning that we could not attain the truth in this matter, and that we have therefore touched upon these enigmas only so that they might not be passed over without any serious study at all. C But if love, as it is written somewhere, at last perfectly casts out fear, and fear, being transformed, becomes love, then unity will be found to be that which attains salvation, with all things united amongst themselves in a welding together with the one and only Good, through that perfection which is in the dove. For we understand something of this sort from the following words, which say: "My dove is one, my perfect one. She is the only one to her mother, she is the choice one to her that bore her." This is explained more clearly in the Gospel through the voice of the Lord. D For He, while bestowing all power upon His disciples through His blessing, and granting other good things to the worthy through those words He uses toward the Father, adds also this, which is the head and sum of all goods: that they shall no longer be divided in a certain diversity of choices in making judgments about the good, but that all shall become one, being grafted together into the one and only Good; so that
by the unity of the Holy Spirit, as the Apostle says, bound together by the bond of peace, all may become one body and one spirit, through the one hope in which they were called. It would be better, however, to set forth these very divine words of the Gospel word for word: "That all may be one, as you, Father, are in me, and I in you; that they also may be one in us." The bond of this unity is glory; and no one of intelligence would deny that the Holy Spirit is called glory, if he looks at the very words of the Lord, when He says: "The glory which you gave me, I have given them." For He truly gave such glory to the disciples, when He said to them: "Receive the Holy Spirit." And He who clothed Himself with human nature received this glory—which He always possessed even before this world existed—and that nature, having been glorified through the Holy Spirit, whatever is akin to this glory becomes a partaker of the Spirit, beginning from the apostles. For this reason He says: "The glory which you gave me, I have given them, that they may be one, as we are one: I in them, and you in me, that they may be perfected in one."
Therefore, he who has grown from a child into a perfect man through progress and has reached the measure of the spiritual stature, and has changed from a slave and a concubine to share in royal dignity, and lastly has become capable of the glory of the Holy Spirit through a state alienated from all vices and through purity: this, then, is that perfect dove, to whom the Bridegroom looks when He says: "One is my dove, my perfect one. She is the only one to her mother, she is the elect one to her who bore her." We are not at all ignorant of the mother of the dove, having recognized the tree from its fruit. For as, when we see a human being, we do not doubt that he is born from a human being, so, when we seek the mother of this elect dove, we understand it to be none other than that [original] dove itself. For in the child the nature of the parent is entirely perceived. Since, therefore, that which is born of the Spirit is Spirit, and the daughter is a dove, then the mother of this child is entirely that dove which flew down from heaven to the Jordan, as John testifies.
C This is the one whom the young maidens call blessed, whom the concubines and queens praise. For a common course toward such blessedness is set before all souls of every rank. Therefore they say: "The daughters saw her, and they called her blessed; the queens and the concubines praised her." For every nature is so constituted by desire as to strive toward that which is blessed and praiseworthy. Thus, if the daughters call the dove blessed, they D themselves also desire to become doves. Likewise, that the dove is praised by the concubines and queens is proof that these, too, are eager for that which is being praised, until at last, all of them having been made one, who through the unity are joined to one another in the...