Sermons on the Song of Songs

Magnify thy merits as much as thou pleasest, and make much of thy labours. But “the mercy of the Lord is better than lives.” I confess, I have not “borne the burden of the day and the heat.” I am only bearing, according to the will of the Father of the family, at “sweet yoke” and a “light burden.” I have been at work scarcely an hour; or, if longer, I have not felt it through excess of love. Let the Jew prove his own strength. As for me, I prefer to “prove what is the good, and the acceptable, and the perfect will of God.” From it I make good all that has been lost to me in work and time. The Jew relies on the articles of a formal agreement, I on the good pleasure of the Divine Will. “I believe and it shall not be reputed unto folly to me,” for there is “life in His good will.” It will reconcile to me the Father, it will restore to me the inheritance I have lost, and even with a more plentiful grace; for it will admit me to a participation in the ineffable delights and the delicious music, and the sweet singing and the high feasting of God’s exulting family. If my “elder brother,” that is, the Jew, be indignant with me, and would rather eat a “kid” with his friends outside than the “fatted calf” with me in his Father’s house, he shall receive this answer to his complaints: “It is fit, that we should make merry and be glad, for this thy brother was dead and is come to life again he was lost and is found.” Still does the Synagogue feast outside with her friends, the demons, who are well pleased to see her in her folly voraciously gorging herself with the kid of sin, and, in a manner, concealing and stowing it away in the stomach of her ignorance and stupidity. Meantime, despising the justice of God and anxious to establish her own, she proclaims that she has no sin, nor any need that the Fatted Calf, that is, Christ, should be slain for her sake; since, as she fancies, she has been cleansed and justified by the works of the Law. But now when the veil of the “letter that killeth” has been rent by the death of the crucified Word, the Church, under the impulse of the Spirit of liberty, rushes boldly into the sanctuary, into the holy of holies, obtains recognition from the Bridegroom, finds favour in His eyes, is given the place of her rival, becomes a Spouse, and supplants the Synagogue in the affection and embraces of the Beloved. Then, in fervour of spirit, clinging and closely united to Christ the Lord, Who distils and pours all over her “the oil of His gladness,” in a measure greater than is given to “her fellows,” she exclaims, “Thy name is as oil poured out.” What wonder if she is anointed who clasps the “Anointed of the Lord”?

The Church, then, reposes inside, but as yet only the Church of the perfect. However, even for us there is hope. Therefore, “rejoicing in hope,” let us, who are still imperfect, keep watch before the doors. Let none as yet lodge within, save the Bridegroom and His Bride, that they may enjoy their secret and mutual embraces, undisturbed by any clamour of carnal passions, by any tumult of sensible images. But let the throng of “young damsels” who cannot yet be free from such interior perturbations, abide without. Let them keep an eye on the door. Let them watch in confidence, knowing that to themselves is addressed what they read, “After her shall virgins be brought to the King, her neighbours shall be brought to Thee.” And that each may know “of what spirit he is,” by virgins I mean those souls which, betrothed to Christ before they could be defiled by contact with the world, have persevered in fidelity to Him Whose spouses they became all the more happily the more early. The “neighbours” or “damsels” are they who were once “conformed to this world,” who abandoned themselves to “the princes of this world,” viz., to the foul demons, unto every kind of uncleanness, but who now, ashamed of the past, and putting on the likeness of the new man, are striving, with only the more diligence because so late, to purify themselves from the stains of their former sinfulness. Let both virgins and damsels go forward. Let them yield neither to faintness nor to fatigue, although they do not yet experience in themselves that feeling which would cause them also to exclaim with the Spouse, “Thy name is as oil poured out.” For such young persons have not the courage to speak directly to the Bridegroom. Yet if they are only faithful in following the footsteps of their mistress, the Bride, they shall be permitted to enjoy at least the odour of the oil, and thus shall be stimulated to desire and to solicit still more precious favours.

I am not ashamed, my brethren, to acknowledge that I myself very often, and particularly in the beginning of my conversion, used to seek with a hard and frozen heart Him Whom my soul wished to love. For I could not yet love Him Who as yet had not been found. Or, at any rate, I could not love Him as much as I desired; and for this reason I sought Him, in order to love Him more, Whom certainly I should not have sought at all unless I already loved Him in some degree. Whilst, then, I sought Him in Whom my cold and languid spirit might find warmth and repose, nowhere did I meet anyone who could help me by dissolving the stiffening frost which held my interior faculties in bondage, and by restoring the pleasant spring of spiritual joy. Thus my soul grew daily more languid, and weary, and inert. Filled with disgust, I became sad almost to despair, and muttered within myself, “Who shall stand before the face of His cold?” Until on a sudden, perhaps at the word, perhaps at the sight of some spiritual and perfect man, occasionally even at the thought of one dead or absent, “the winds blew and the waters ran,” and “my tears were my bread day and night.” What is this but the odour exhaling from the unguent wherewith such a one was anointed? It could not be the ointment itself, inasmuch as it reached me only through a human medium. Hence, whilst rejoicing in the favour, I felt at the same time confounded and humiliated, because it was only a slight breath of the perfume, and not a bountiful unction that was vouchsafed me. My sense of smell was gratified, but not my sense of touch. I therefore knew that I was too unworthy for God to manifest His sweetness to me immediately. And if the same thing should happen again, I would indeed eagerly accept the favour bestowed and feel duly grateful. But grieving I should grieve that I had not deserved to receive it from God directly and, as the saying is, from hand to hand, though this I earnestly implored. I feel ashamed to be more affected at the thought of a man than at the thought of God. And then I cry out with tears, “When shall I come and appear before the face of God?” I suppose some of yourselves have had the same experience, and have it sometimes still. Herein what are we to understand except that either our pride is being humbled, or our humility protected, or fraternal charity fostered, or holy desires enkindled? One and the same thing is medicine for the sick and food for the convalescent; it gives strength to the weak and pleasure to the strong. One and the same food cures our distempers and preserves our health. It nourishes the body whilst pleasing the palate.

We must now go back to the words of the Spouse. But let us so hasten to hear what she says that we may also endeavour to understand her wisdom. This Spouse, as I have remarked already, is the Church. She it is to whom “much hath been forgiven because she loveth much.” The reproaches addressed to her by her rival, even these she has turned to her advantage. Thus she has become more docile under correction, more patient in labour, more ardent in love, more prudent in self-restraint, more humble for the consciousness of her failings, more acceptable for her modesty, more prompt in obedience, more devout and fervent in returning thanks. And whilst the Synagogue, as has been said, murmurs and talks of her merits, and her labours, and “the burden of the day and the heat,” the Church is only mindful of the divine munificence, saying, “His name is as oil poured out.”