Sermons on the Song of Songs

Furthermore, it appears to me that by the winter season, which is said to be past, we are to understand the time when the Lord Jesus would no longer walk openly among the Jews, because they were conspiring against Him and wished to put Him to death. Hence, to some of them He said, “My time is not yet come, but your time is always ready,” and, “Go you up to this festival day, but I go not up to this festival day.” But afterwards, “He went up to the feast, not openly, but as it were in secret.” It was winter from that time until the coming of the Holy Ghost, when the frozen hearts of the faithful began again to grow warm, heated by the fire which the Lord cast down upon the earth. Do you doubt, my brethren, that it was then really winter when “Peter was standing and warming himself at a fire of coals,” as chilled in heart as he was in body? The Evangelist expressly states that “it was cold.” Truly a hard frost had congealed the heart of the faithless Apostle. Nor should we be surprised, since the Divine Fire had been taken from him. A short time before he manifested no little zeal, when he drew his sword and cut off the ear of the servant, because he was then close to the Fire and fought lest he should lose It. But the time of pruning had not yet come. Therefore it was said to him, “Put up thy sword into thy scabbard.” For it was then “the hour of the power of darkness,” during which, if any of the disciples were to wield the sword—whether the material sword or the sword of the word—either he would himself “perish with the sword,” without even the consolation of gaining any heart or producing any fruit; or certainly he would be driven to an act of apostasy and so again “perish with the sword” of fear, according to the word of the Lord which immediately follows, “all that take the sword shall perish with the sword.” Who indeed amongst the other disciples would have fearlessly faced death’s awful image, when Peter himself, their prince and leader, trembled and gave way,—Peter, who had been singularly fortified by the strengthening words of the Saviour, and fortified thus in order that he might confirm his brethren?

But neither Peter nor the others were as yet “endued with power from on high.” Hence it was not safe for them to go out into the vineyards in order to cleanse the soil with the hoes of their tongues, and with the sword of the Spirit to prune the vines and trim the branches, so that they might bring forth fruit in greater abundance. Even the Lord Himself held His peace during His Passion; and although interrogated concerning many things, “He answered never a word.” In the words of the Psalmist, He “became as a man that heareth not, and that hath no reproofs in his mouth.” But “He said to them: If I shall tell you, you will not believe Me, and if I shall also ask you, you will not answer Me, nor let Me go.” For He knew that the time of pruning had not yet come. He knew that His vineyard would not yet make any return for the labour of its cultivation, would yield no fruits of faith and good works. Why? Because it was still winter in the hearts of unbelievers; because the earth was still flooded by the wintry rains of malice, which were more likely to rot than to nourish any seed that might be sown in it, and to render useless all the care devoted to the culture of the vineyards.

What rain, my brethren, do you suppose me to be speaking of now? Is it the rain which we see pouring down upon the earth in a violent tempest, from the clouds that move across the face of the heavens? Surely not. But I refer to that which is thrown up from earth towards the sky by men of turbulent disposition, who “have set their mouth against heaven, and their tongue hath passed through the earth” like a pestilential rain, rendering it muddy and sterile, and as useless for plants as for seeds. I do not mean those visible plants and seeds, ordained for the satisfaction of our corporal necessities, of which plainly God hath no care, any more than he hath care of oxen, as the Apostle tells us. Which, then? I speak of the spiritual seeds and plants, which have been sown and planted, not by human hands, but by the Hand of God, which can germinate or take root in faith and charity, and bring forth the fruits of salvation, yet only on condition that they are watered with wholesome and seasonable rain. In fact they are the souls for which Christ died. Woe to the clouds that distil upon such plants and seeds the bad rains, more conducive to corruption than to germination! For just as there are good trees and evil trees, both yielding fruit according to their nature, the good tree producing good fruit, and the evil tree evil fruit; so, it seems to me, there are good clouds that distil good rain, and evil clouds distilling evil rain. And see if the Lord Himself does not insinuate to us this distinction of clouds and rains, when He says, speaking through His Prophet, Isaias, “I will command My clouds to rain no rain upon it.” Why should He expressly say, “My clouds,” if there were not evil clouds also which were not His? “Away with Him, away with Him, crucify Him”—here my brethren, you have evil clouds distilling the evil rain. O black and turbulent clouds! O tempestuous rain! O torrent of iniquity better qualified to sweep away than to nourish the seeds and plants! Not less bad and bitter, although poured with less violence, was that other shower which followed: “He saved others, Himself He cannot save. If He be the King of Israel, let Him now come down from the cross, and we will believe Him.” Neither can we regard as good rain the windy words of philosophers, which brought to the earth more barrenness than fertility. And with much less reason can the perverse doctrines of heretical teachers be called good rain, since instead of fruit they produce only “thorns and thistles.” Evil rains, too, were the traditions of the Pharisees which the Lord denounced, just as the Pharisees themselves were evil clouds. And if you do not think me unjust to Moses, I will venture to say that, although he was certainly a good cloud, nevertheless not all the rain which he distilled was good rain. Indeed, were I to speak otherwise, I should be contradicting Him Who has declared, “Therefore I also gave them statutes that were not good, and judgments in which they shall not live.” For it is manifest that these judgments and statutes were given through Moses. The Sabbatarian laws, for example, which, when literally observed, allowed no rest on the day of rest; the prescribed sacrificial ceremonial; the prohibition to use for food the flesh of swine and of some other animals reputed unclean by Moses,—what are all these ordinances but so many showers of rain descending from the Mosaic cloud? But God forbid that such rain should ever fall on my field or garden! It was wholesome in its proper season. But I should not consider it good if it came now after its time. For even a gentle and lightly falling rain is rather harmful than helpful, if its coming be inopportune.