Sermons on the Song of Songs

You observe then, my brethren, that a man may have a really humble opinion of himself, and yet be unwilling to “consent to the humble,” as the Apostle says. For these two things are quite distinct; the former coming from the light of truth, the latter from the grace of charity. The former results by necessity, the latter is the production of free-will. Of the Saviour we are told that “He emptied Himself, taking the form of a servant,” and giving us the form and pattern of humility. “He emptied Himself” as “He humbled Himself,” not by any necessity of truth and judgment, but from charity to us. He had the power to exhibit Himself as vile and contemptible, but He certainly could not so repute Himself, since He knew Himself as He truly was. His humility therefore had its source in His Will, not in His Intellect. He made Himself appear other than He recognised Himself to be, freely choosing to be esteemed the least, whilst fully conscious that He was the greatest. Then He tells us, “Learn of Me, because I am meek and humble of heart.” Notice how He says “humble of heart,” that is, “humble in the affection of My Heart and by the choice of My Will.” So He denies the necessity of His humility, by ascribing it to His Will. For in this He was not like you and me, who find ourselves in very truth deserving of contempt and dishonour, worthy of all abasement and subjection, worthy even of severe chastisement and hard stripes. Yet He submitted to all these things, “because it was His own will,” and because He was “humble of heart.” That is to say, He was humble with that humility which is embraced with the heart’s affection, not with that which results of necessity from the knowledge of the truth.

It is for this reason, my brethren, I said a while ago that this kind of voluntary humility is produced in our souls, not by the constraining evidence of truth, but rather by the infusion of love, because it belongs to the heart, to the will, and to the affections. Whether I am right in assigning it to such a source, I leave it to you to judge. It is also for you to consider and decide whether I have correctly attributed the same kind of humility to the Saviour, Who, as is certain, “emptied Himself” through charity; through charity made Himself “a little less than the angels”; through charity was subject to His parents; through charity stooped to receive baptism at the hands of John; through charity submitted to the infirmities of the flesh; and finally, it was through charity that He became obedient unto death, even unto the shameful death of the cross. Another question awaiting your determination is whether I am right in supposing that this humility, all aglow with the fervour of charity, is here typified by spikenard, an herb whose nature is said to be as warm as its appearance is contemptible. And if you agree with me in all these questions (as indeed you cannot help doing, since you cannot withhold assent from evidence so clear) then if you feel humbled in your own consciences with that constrained humility, which truth, which “searcheth the heart and the reins,” produces in the mind of a reflective soul, exert your wills and make a virtue of necessity; because there can be no virtue without the concurrence of the will. You will do this by not desiring to appear to others different from what you appear interiorly to your own hearts. Otherwise you have good reason to fear lest what you read in the Psalmist should apply to yourselves: “For in His sight he hath done deceitfully, that his iniquity may be found unto hatred,” and in Proverbs, “Diverse weights and diverse measures, both are abominable before God.” For does not he, who wishes to appear better than he knows himself to be, incur the guilt of “doing deceitfully” and using “diverse weights and diverse measures”? He depreciates himself in the secret chamber of his own judgment, having weighed his worth in the scales of truth; yet exteriorly he pretends to be of higher value, and sells himself as possessing greater weight than he finds registered in the balance of conscience. Fear the All-seeing Judge, my brethren, and never be guilty of so wicked a crime as to lift yourselves up with your wills whilst you feel yourselves being pressed down by truth. For that would be sinning against the light. It would be resisting God. Rather acquiesce in the divine judgment, and subject your wills to reason, and that not only with docility, but even with devotion. Say to yourselves with the Psalmist, “Shall not my soul be subject to God?”

But it is not enough to be subject to God, unless you are willing to “be subject to every human creature for God’s sake, whether it be to” the abbot, “as excelling,” or to the prior, as appointed by him. I will go further and exhort you to be subject to your equals, yea, even to your inferiors; “for so it becometh us to fulfil all justice.” Do thou, then, my brother, if thou desirest to be perfect in justice, “with honour prevent” him that is less, defer to thy inferiors, place thyself beneath thy juniors. By acting thus, thou also wilt deserve to say with the Spouse, “My spikenard sent forth the odour thereof.” For thy devotion is a good odour, a good odour, too, is thy fair fame, which reaches and edifies all, so that in every place thou art “the good odour of Christ,” regarded by all with love and veneration. He who is humble, not in the free affection of his will, but merely as the effect of the compelling power of truth, cannot exercise the same influence. Such a one keeps his humility altogether to himself; he does not suffer it to escape that it may spread itself abroad and perfume his surroundings. In fact, it would be better to say that humility of this kind has no odour, because it has no charity or devotion, as being the product of necessity rather that the result of willing choice. But the humility of the Spouse (which alone is symbolised by spikenard) glowing with charity, enlivened with devotion, redolent of good fame, scatters its fragrance on every side. It has the properties of voluntariness, constancy, and fertility, and its odour can be extinguished by neither praise nor blame. The Spouse has heard from her Bridegroom the eulogy, “Thy cheeks are beautiful as the turtle dove’s”; she has also received a promise of ornaments of gold; and nevertheless she answers with humility. And the more she is honoured and praised, the more does she humble herself in all things. She does not glory in her merits; nor does she forget her lowliness whilst she hears herself commended, but rather humbly proclaims it under the symbol of spikenard. It is indeed as if she spoke in the words of the Virgin Mary, “I am conscious to myself of nothing that could deserve so great a condescension, beyond the fact that the Lord ‘hath regarded the humility of His handmaid.’” For what else can be the meaning of the words, “my spikenard sent forth the odour thereof,” if not “my humility has been pleasing to God”? As if she should say, “It is not by the merit of wisdom I have won the divine favour, nor by the nobility of blood, nor yet by beauty of person, for I make no pretension to such advantages; it is simply because my humility, the sole good quality I can claim to possess, ‘sent forth the odour thereof.’” That is to say, its usual, characteristic odour. For it is usual with humility to be acceptable to God; as it is usual with Him, and, as it were, His custom, to look down with favour upon the humble from His “high and elevated throne.” And therefore, “while the King was at His repose,” the odour of humility penetrated even to His bedchamber. “Who is as the Lord our God,” cries out the Psalmist, “Who dwelleth on high, and looketh down on the low things in heaven and in earth?”