Sermons on the Song of Songs

For by thus sinning against your brother, you sin against Christ, Who has declared that, “As long as you did it to one of these, My least brethren, you did it to Me.” And we do not fulfil our duty in this matter by being on our guard against the more serious violations of fraternal charity such as open contumely or bitter reproaches, such also as secret and slanderous whispering. It is not, I say, sufficient to preserve ourselves from the graver faults, viz., those I have just mentioned, and others of a similar nature. We must avoid light transgressions as well. If, indeed, anything can be called light which you presume to do with the will of hurting your brother, since you shall be held guilty of the divine judgment merely for being angry with him. And justly so. For that which we consider light, and therefore lightly commit, will generally appear different to the offended party, because “man looketh on the face and judgeth according to the face,” ready to regard a straw as a beam, and to magnify a spark to a furnace. Not all possess that charity which “believeth all things.” “The imagination and thought of man’s heart are prone” to suspect evil rather than to believe good. This is especially the case, where the rule of silence neither allows him who is the cause to offer an explanation, nor the other to lay bare the sore of suspicion from which he suffers, in order that it may be healed. So that the latter is inflamed and his soul succumbs to a secret and deadly wound amidst deep groans of internal anguish. For, completely given up to the disquiet and agitation of anger, he can do nothing else but revolve silently in his mind the injury he fancies has been done him. Prayer is no longer possible to one in this condition. He can neither apply his mind to reading, nor meditate on anything holy and spiritual. And whilst the vital respiration is thus suspended, so to speak, and the soul, deprived of her proper nourishment, is rapidly approaching death, that soul for which Christ died, what, I ask thee, who art the offender, what is the state, what are the feelings of thine own soul? What relish canst thou find in prayer or in labour, or in any other exercise, whilst Christ is sadly complaining of thee from the breast of the brother whom thou hast aggrieved, saying, “The son of My mother hath fought against Me,” and “he ‘who took sweet meats together with Me’ hath filled Me with bitterness”?

But if thou shouldst say that he ought not to be so perturbed on account of so slight an offence, I answer that the slighter it was the more easily might it have been avoided by thee. And yet, as I have already remarked, I know not how thou canst call slight anything that goes beyond the mere feeling of anger, since even this is matter for judgment, as the Judge Himself declares. What! Surely thou wilt not regard as trivial that which offends Christ and for which thou shalt be brought before the divine tribunal. “It is a fearful thing,” says St. Paul, “to fall into the hands of the living God.” Therefore, whenever anyone happens to hurt thy feelings, and it is almost impossible that this should not occasionally occur in such communities as ours whose members are thrown so much together, do not immediately hasten, after the manner of worldlings, to retaliate upon the offending brother by an abusive answer. Neither oughtest thou to be, under any pretence of administering correction, so viciously daring, as to transfix with a sharp and blistering word the soul for which Christ refused not to be fixed on the cross. Nor shouldst thou vent thy anger by inarticulate expressions of resentment, by suppressed mutterings and murmurings, by turning up the nose in disdain, by the laughter of contempt and mockery, or by the frown of reproach or menace. No, but rather let the agitation expire in thine own heart, where it was brought to birth. Let not that passion which carries death be permitted to go abroad lest it should work havoc to some brother’s soul. So shalt thou be able to say with the Prophet, “I was troubled and I spoke not.”

I am aware, my brethren, that some find a more profound signification in these words, as if they were spoken of “the devil and his angels.” For these also were sons of “that Jerusalem which is above, which is our mother.” But they fell, and since their fall have not ceased to fight against their sister, the Church. Nor shall I contradict him who may prefer a more benign interpretation, according to which the meaning would be that the spiritual sons of the Church fight against their carnal brothers with the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God, inflicting on them wounds, not unto death but unto their salvation, and by such onslaughts compelling them to attend to their spiritual interests. Would that the “just man” might “correct me in mercy and reprove me,” “striking and healing, killing and making alive,” so that, with St. Paul, I, too, might dare to say, “I live, now not I, but Christ liveth in me”! “Be at agreement with thy adversary betimes,” said the Lord, “whilst thou art on the way with him, lest perhaps the adversary deliver thee to the judge, and the judge deliver thee to the officer.” A good adversary he, with whom, if I am in agreement, neither the judge nor the officer shall have a word to say against me. Certainly, my brethren, if I have ever saddened any of you for the sake of your amendment, I do not regret it, because that sadness is unto salvation. And I cannot recall that I have ever done so without feeling great sadness myself, as it is written, “A woman, when she is in labour, hath sorrow.” But God forbid that I should any longer think of my anguish, now that I possess the fruit of my pains and see Christ formed in my children! I know not how it is, but it is true nevertheless, that I feel a more tender affection for those whom I have at length restored to spiritual health after and by means of many reprehensions, than for others who have always been strong and able to dispense with such bitter medicine.

Therefore, my brethren, the Church, or the soul that loves God, can say in this sense that the Sun has discoloured her, namely, by sending some of the sons of her mother to fight against her in this salutary way, and to lead her captive to His faith and love, pierced, no doubt, with many of those arrows whereof we read, “Sharp are the arrows of the Mighty,” and, “Thy arrows are fastened in me.” Hence she goes on to say, “There is no health in my flesh”; so that, being made healthier in spirit, and consequently stronger, through the infirmity of the flesh, she is able to affirm, “The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak,” or with the Apostle, “When I am weak, then am I powerful.” Do you observe how the weakness of the flesh increases the strength of the spirit and supplies it with new energies? Then be assured of the converse also, that the strength of the flesh produces weakness of the spirit. And what wonder if you increase in power in proportion as your enemy increases in weakness? That is, unless you are mad enough to regard as your friend that flesh which ceases not to lust against the spirit. See, therefore, if the holy Psalmist did not act prudently in praying to be savingly pierced with these arrows and to be “fought against,” where he says, “Pierce my flesh with Thy fear.” An excellent arrow is fear, which transfixes and slays the desires of the flesh, “that the spirit may be saved.” And does it not seem to you that he who chastises his own body, and brings it into subjection, is himself assisting the hand that fights against him?