Sermons on the Song of Songs

Perhaps the Jew will complain that I am unduly severe in describing his understanding as brutish. But let him read Isaias and he shall find even something less flattering. “The ox,” says that Prophet, speaking in the name of the Lord, “knoweth his owner, and the ass his master’s crib: but Israel hath not known Me, and My people hath not understood.” Thou perceivest now, O Jew, that I am not so hard on thee as is thine own Prophet. I have compared thee to the brute beasts in understanding, but he has placed thee beneath them; although Isaias speaks here not in his own person but in the person of Him Who proclaims Himself God both by works and words; so that He could say to the Jews, “If I do not the works of My Father believe Me not; but if I do, though you will not believe Me, believe the works.” Yet even thus they were not brought to understanding. The expulsion of demons from the possessed, the obedience of the elements, even the resuscitation of the dead could not penetrate that bestial and more than bestial stupidity of theirs. It was from this blindness, as miserable as it was marvellous, that the fig-tree produced the green fig of a most horrible and heinous crime, when the people laid sacrilegious hands on the Lord of Majesty. Thenceforward it could be said with truth, “The fig-tree hath put forth her green figs.” For the legal rites of the Jewish people began now to give place to others, according to what is written in Leviticus, “The new coming in, you shall cast away the old,” in the same way as the first-fruits of the fig-tree fall off, yielding place to the second and better crop. We may therefore fancy the Bridegroom speaking thus to His Bride, “So long as the fig-tree continued to put forth its green figs, I did not call thee, O My Spouse; for I knew that the good figs could not appear with the bad; but now that it has produced all the evil fruit which had first to be put forth, it is seasonable to summon thee to the vineyards where, as thou knowest, the good and wholesome figs shall come out immediately after the fall of the other kind.”

And He adds, “The vines in flower yield their sweet smell,” which is an indication of the speedy appearance of the fruit. This odour has power to banish serpents. We are told that when the vine begins to flower every venomous reptile vanishes from the vicinity, unable to endure the scent of the opening blossoms. I wish our novices to attend to this, and to act manfully, remembering what spirit they have received, the very first-fruits whereof can put the demons to flight. But if the fervour of a novice be so efficacious, what potency shall we attribute to the sanctity of the perfect? Let the fruit be judged from the flower; let the quality of the taste be estimated from the quality of the odour. “The vines in flower yield their sweet smell.” So indeed it was at the beginning.

The preaching of the new grace was followed by newness of life in them that believed, “having their conversation good among the gentiles.” Like the Apostle, they were “the good odour of Christ in every place.” A good odour is a good testimony. A good testimony proceeds from a good work, just as a good odour from a flower. And because, in the early days of the infant Church, faithful souls, like so many spiritual vines, appeared to be full of such flowers and odours, “having a good testimony even from them that were without,” I think we may reasonably apply to them what is here said, “The vines in flower yield their sweet smell.” To what purpose? In order that such as had not yet believed might be attracted by it, and witnessing their good works whence it proceeded, might thus themselves be led to glorify God; and so the sweet smell of the vines would become an “odour of life unto life.” Justly, therefore, are they described as giving forth their odours, who seek not their own glory in their own fair fame, but rather the salvation of others. For, after the example of many, they might have made “godliness a source of gain,” rendering it subservient to greed or ambition. That, however, would not be giving but selling their odour. But now, whilst “all their things are done in charity,” as St. Paul recommends, it may be truly said of them that they do not barter but “yield their sweet smell.”

But if the soul be the vine, and good works the flower, and fair fame the odour, what is the fruit? It is martyrdom. The fruit of the vine is the blood of the martyr. As the Psalmist sings, “When He shall give sleep to His beloved, behold the inheritance of the Lord are children; the reward, the fruit of the womb.” I was nearly saying, “the fruit of the vine.” And why should I not speak of the blood of the innocent, the blood of the just, as the purest blood of the grape? Why not regard it as wine unmixed, ruddy, rich, precious, extracted from the vintage of Sorech in the wine-press of suffering? Hence it is written, “Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of His saints.” Such appears to be the meaning of the words of the Bridegroom, “The vines in flower yield their sweet smell.” I mean to say, thus I should interpret them, if they are considered to refer to the seasons of grace.

But if we prefer to understand this passage as applying to the patriarchs and prophets, “for the vineyard of the Lord of Hosts is the house of Israel,” the sense will be: The patriarchs and prophets inhaled the sweet odour of Christ, Who was preordained to be born and to die in the flesh; yet they did not then give forth the same odour, because they could not exhibit in the flesh Him of Whom they had a fore-scent in the spirit. They did not yield “their sweet smell,” nor publish their secret, but waited for the revelation to be made in its proper season. For who, at that time, would have received the Wisdom “hidden in a mystery,” and not yet manifested in the body? So the vines did not yet begin to “yield their sweet smell.” But they yielded it later on, when, after a long series of passing generations, Christ, sprung from them according to the flesh, was brought forth into the world by a virginal birth. Then, I say, these spiritual vines “yielded their sweet smell,” “when the goodness and kindness of God our Saviour appeared,” and the earth began to have Him present, Whose fragrance when absent only a few could enjoy. Thus, for instance, the holy Patriarch Isaac scented the sweet odour of Christ when, laying hands on his son Jacob, he blessed him with the words, “Behold the smell of my son is as the smell of a plentiful field which the Lord hath blessed.” Nevertheless, whilst speaking thus, he kept to himself his consolation, nor would he share it with any. “But when the fulness of the time was come, God sent His Son, made of a woman, made under the law, that He might redeem them who were under the law.” Then, indeed, the odour secretly enjoyed by the Patriarch, diffused itself abroad, so that the Church, from the ends of the earth perceiving the perfume, exclaimed, “Thy name is as oil poured out,” and even the young maidens began to run to the odour of this ointment. Thus, then, the vine I have instanced yielded at last its sweet smell, as did also the other patriarchal vines at the same time; for in them all had pre-existed the same odour of life. How could it have been otherwise, since from them all was Christ according to the flesh? What is said, therefore, “The vines yield their sweet smell,” may be interpreted to mean either that faithful souls everywhere diffuse a good esteem of themselves, or that the oracles and revelations of the patriarchs were made manifest to the world at the coming of Christ, and their odour “hath gone forth into all the earth,”—with reference to which the Apostle says, “And evidently great is the Mystery of godliness, which was manifested in the flesh, was justified in the Spirit, appeared unto the angels, hath been preached unto the gentiles, is believed in the world, is taken up in glory.”