Sermons on the Song of Songs

“As the curtains of Solomon.”

Now that we have discharged the duty, imposed by charity and natural affection, of escorting, so to speak, our friend Gerard on his way home from this land of exile, I purpose to take up again to-day the interrupted work of your edification. For it is an unseemly thing, in my opinion, to prolong our lamentations over one who rejoices, and an unmannerly thing to obtrude our tears on one who is seated at a banquet. And if we mourn for our own misery, we ought to take care that this be not excessive, lest otherwise we should seem to have loved Gerard not so much for his own sake as for the advantages which we derived from his presence. Then, let the thought of our dear one’s joy temper the sorrow of the desolate. Let the belief that he is present and united with God render more endurable his absence from ourselves. Relying, therefore, on your prayers, I shall endeavour and do my best to throw light upon that mystery, whatever it is, which I perceive to be wrapped up in those curtains, referred to in illustration of the beauty of the Spouse. It has been touched upon already, if you remember, but left undiscussed. How the Spouse is “black as the tents of Cedar,” I have sufficiently examined and explained. But how are we to understand the comparison “beautiful as the curtains of Solomon”? As if, forsooth, Solomon “in all his glory” possessed anything worthy to be compared to the beauty of the Spouse, or to the magnificence of her ornamentation. Were we to say that these mysterious curtains, just as the “tents of Cedar,” are likened not to the Spouse’s beauty, but to her blackness, the similitude would perhaps be intelligible, and I should not be at a loss for reasons to explain its congruity, as indeed I intend to prove to you later on. But if we suppose that the splendour and glory of some kind of curtains is to be considered as bearing an analogy and a resemblance to the beauty of the Spouse, I certainly have particular need here of the assistance of Him Whose light you have implored, in order that I may be able to fathom this mystery and to unfold it in a manner befitting its dignity. For which of those things, which shine exteriorly, does not appear vile and hideous to a man of sound judgment, when compared with the interior grandeur of even any holy soul? What, I ask, can be found in this world, whose “fashion passeth away,” possessing a beauty at all comparable to that of the soul, which, having put off the oldness of the earthly man, has put on the glory of the heavenly, and adorned, not with the vanity of material decorations, but with the magnificent jewels of noble virtues, appears higher and purer than the heavens, more resplendent than the sun? Do not, therefore, look to the earthly Solomon, when you desire to ascertain what those curtains are, of her resemblance to which in loveliness the Spouse is here represented as boasting.

What, then, does she mean by saying, “I am beautiful as the curtains of Solomon”? These words, my brethren, appear to me to contain a deep and marvellous meaning, if we are allowed to suppose that the reference is not to the historical Solomon, who reigned in Jerusalem, but to Him Who said of Himself, “Behold, a Greater than Solomon is here.” For so truly a Solomon is this Solomon of mine, that not only is He called the Peaceful, which is the signification of the word Solomon, but he is even named Peace, since St. Paul tells us that “He is our Peace.” With this Solomon, no doubt, something can be found which I need have no hesitation in comparing to the beauty of the Spouse. And with regard to the curtains in particular, observe what we read in the psalm, “Who stretchest out the heavens like a curtain Surely it was not the earthly and merely human Solomon, wise though he was, and very powerful, that so “stretched out the heavens like a curtain,” but rather He, Who, being not so much wise as Wisdom Itself, not only stretched out but even created the heavens. For it is to Him, and not to the other, these words belong, “when He”—namely, God the Father—“prepared the heavens, I was present.” Unquestionably the Father had present to Him His Power and His Wisdom, that is to say, His Word, “when He prepared the heavens.” And do not imagine that the Word stood by doing nothing, and merely as a spectator, because He says, “I was present” and does not add “I was preparing with Him.” Read on a little further, and you will find that addition explicitly made, where He declares, “I was with Him forming all things.” He has also told us that “what things soever He (the Father) doth, these the Son also doth in like manner.” Consequently, the Word as well as the Father “stretched out the heavens like a curtain.” Most beautiful curtain, which with its wide expanse, covers the whole face of the earth as with a canopy, and delights the gaze of mortals with its wonderfully varied ornaments of sun, and moon, and stars! What can be grander than this curtain? What more magnificent than the heavens? Nevertheless, not even these are in any sense comparable to the glory and loveliness of the Spouse. For “the fashion” of such things “passeth away,” as being corporeal and perceptible to sense, “for the things which are seen, are temporal, but the things which are not seen, eternal.”

The beauty of the Spouse, on the contrary, is something spiritual, and hence only to be discerned by reason. It is also eternal, inasmuch as it is an image of eternity. Her beauty, for instance, comprises charity, and, as you have read, “charity never falleth off.” It also comprises justice, and her “justice continueth for ever and ever.” Patience, too, because, as it is written, “The patience of the poor shall not perish for ever.” What shall I say of her humility, of her voluntary poverty, which also appertains to her beauty? Does not the one merit an eternal kingdom and the other everlasting exaltation? In that beauty is also found “the fear of the Lord, holy, enduring for ever and ever.” And what are prudence, and temperance, and fortitude, and all other virtues whatever but pearls, as it were, in the adornment of the Spouse, gleaming with an immortal brightness? I say with an immortal brightness, because that brightness of the virtues is really the seat and support of immortal life. For there is no place at all in the soul for such a never-fading and blissful life except on the foundation and basis of the virtues. Hence the Prophet says to God, Who is the true blessed Life, “Justice and judgment are the preparation of Thy seat.” And the Apostle prays “that Christ may dwell,” not in every or any manner, but particularly “by faith in your hearts.” So also when the Lord was about to sit upon the ass’s colt, the disciples laid their garments thereon, signifying that the Saviour or salvation will not rest upon the soul unless her nakedness be covered with the apostolic doctrine and virtues. The Church, therefore, having the promise of future felicity, takes care, meantime, to prepare and adorn herself with “gilded clothing, surrounded with variety,” the variety, that is, of graces and virtues, in order that she may be found worthy and capable of the very fulness of grace.

But even to this variety of spiritual beauty, which the Spouse has received in the present life with the first robe, as it were, of the garments of her sanctification, I would by no means compare the splendours of this visible and corporeal firmament, most magnificent though it be amongst material things, by reason of the splendour and diversity of its luminaries. Yet there is a “heaven of heavens,” of which the Psalmist says, “Sing ye to God, Who mounteth above the heaven of heavens to the east.” This is the intellectual and spiritual heaven. He “Who made the heavens in understanding,” created and established it for ever, and dwells therein Himself. But do not suppose that the love of the Spouse remain outside this heaven, in which her Beloved abides. For where her treasure is there is her heart also. She therefore feels jealous of those who are privileged to contemplate that Divine Countenance Which she longs to see; and as she cannot as yet share the vision with them, she tries to conform her life to theirs, crying out more by her virtues than by her voice, “I have loved, O Lord, the beauty of Thy house, and the place where Thy glory dwelleth.”