Sermons on the Song of Songs

My brethren, let us look upon bishops with honour, and upon their labours with fear. We should never aspire to the episcopal dignity, if we considered the toil it involves. Let us, then, acknowledge the inadequacy of our powers, and let us not imagine that the soft and feeble shoulders of women such as we are, can support with ease the burdens of strong men. It is our duty to honour these men, and not to scrutinise their conduct with a critical eye. It would be intolerable that you should censure the work of those whose responsibilities you refuse to undertake, just as it would be impertinence in a woman spinning at home to rebuke her warrior husband returning from battle. So, if a religious in his cloister should occasionally observe a secular cleric, who toils amongst the people, carrying himself with too much freedom or too little circumspection, for instance, sinning by excess in eating, in speaking, in sleeping, in hilarity, in anger, or in censure, let him not at once hasten to condemn, but let him remember what is written, “Better is the iniquity of a man, than a woman doing a good turn.” For the monk, indeed, does well in keeping a watchful guard over himself. But he who labours for the good of the people performs a more excellent and more manly work. And if this cannot be done without some degree of “iniquity,” that is, without slight departures from strict regularity of life and conversation, we must bear in mind that “charity covereth a multitude of sins.” So much with regard to those two temptations by which the devil incites religious persons either to ambition the dignity of bishops, or rashly to condemn them for their failings.

But we must now return to the ointments of the Spouse. Do you not perceive how much the ointment of Piety is to be preferred to those of Contrition and Devotion, from the fact that it alone is not allowed to be wasted? Indeed, so little is waste tolerated in the case of this “best ointment,” that even the gift of a cup of cold water is not permitted to go unrequited. Precious, nevertheless, is the unguent of Contrition, which is extracted from the recollection of sin, and is poured upon the Lord’s Feet, because “a contrite and humble heart God will not despise.” Far more precious still is what I have named the ointment of Devotion, which is produced from the thought of the divine benefits, and is deemed worthy to be applied to the Saviour’s Head. Hence God Himself says of it, “The sacrifice of praise shall glorify Me.” But, as I have just remarked, superior to both is the unction of Piety, which is confected out of a sympathetic regard for the miserable, and which spreads its fragrance over the whole Body of Christ. I speak not of that Body Which hung upon the Cross, but of that mystical Body which He acquired by His Passion. This third ointment is indeed so excellent, that in comparison with it God declares the others to be unworthy of His notice, where He says, “I will have mercy and not sacrifice.” In my judgment, therefore, the perfume of this virtue of mercy or piety is exhaled in a degree beyond all others from the breasts of the Spouse, who is doubtless anxious to conform herself in all things to the will of her Beloved. Did not Tabitha, even in death, give forth the sweet fragrance of mercy? And therefore it was that she so quickly revived, because the odour of life in her prevailed over death.

Now, listen to an “abbreviated word,” that is, a recapitulation of this subject. Whoever inebriates his neighbour with his words and perfumes him with his benefits, the same may consider as addressed to himself the eulogium, “For thy breasts are better than wine, smelling sweet of the best ointments.” But who is sufficient for this? Which of us can spend even a single hour so justly and perfectly as not sometimes to grow unfruitful in speech or remiss in action? Yet there is one who can make such a boast with all truth and justice. I mean the Church, to which, in her universality, the means are never lacking both for inebriating and for perfuming. For what she wants in one of her members she possesses in another, according to the measure of the gift of Christ and the distribution of the Holy Spirit, “dividing to everyone as He willeth.” In those who make unto themselves “friends of the mammon of iniquity,” the Church exhales an odour of sweetness. She inebriates in the persons of her preachers, who pour out the wine of spiritual joy over the whole earth, intoxicate the nations therewith, and “bring forth fruit in patience.” Thus she may confidently and securely call herself the Spouse, inasmuch as she possesses the “breasts better than wine, smelling sweet of the best ointments.” But although none of us, my brethren, will be so presumptuous as to dare to call his soul the spouse of Christ, nevertheless, as we are members of the Church which rightly glories in this title, and in the reality corresponding to the title, we at least may each justly claim a participation in that high prerogative. What we possess all collectively in a complete and perfect manner, without doubt we also possess individually by participation. Thanks to Thee, Lord Jesus, Who hast vouchsafed to number us amongst the members of Thy Church, not alone that we might be Thy faithful servants, but also that, as spouses of Thine, we might be united to Thee in the sweet and chaste and everlasting embrace of love, and admitted to contemplate the glory of Thy unveiled Countenance, which glory is common to Thee with the Father and the Holy Ghost for ever and ever. Amen.