Sermons on the Song of Songs

Here, my brethren, we must admire the prudence of the Spouse and the profound wisdom of her words. Under the shade of Solomon’s curtains, that is, in the flesh, she seeks the Glory of the Divinity, she seeks Life in death, the summit of honour and majesty in disgrace, and under the black mantle of the Crucified, the whiteness of innocence and the splendour of virtue. For it was thus that those royal curtains, black though they were, and contemptible, preserved under their awning the bright and precious ornaments of an exceedingly wealthy monarch. Wisely does she refrain from despising the blackness of the curtains, perceiving the beauty concealed underneath. But that blackness was despised by some who knew nothing of the treasure it covered. “For if they had known it,” says St. Paul, “they would never have crucified the Lord of Glory.” King Herod knew it not, and hence his contempt for Christ. Neither did the Synagogue know it, since she reproached the Saviour with His suffering and His weakness, saying, “He saved others, Himself He cannot save; if He be the King of Israel, let Him come down from the cross, and we will believe in Him.” But the Thief, from the cross whereon he was hanging, recognised that hidden beauty of Him Who was also suspended on His cross, and he acknowledged and proclaimed the purity of His innocence. “This Man,” said he, “hath done no evil.” He also, at the same time, confessed the Glory of His royal Majesty by the prayer, “Remember me when Thou shalt come into Thy kingdom.” This beauty under blackness was likewise detected by the Centurion, who declared the Crucified to be the Son of God, as it is now by the Church, which emulates the blackness in order to participate in the beauty. She is not ashamed either to appear or to be called black, so that she may be able to say to her Beloved, “The reproaches of them that reproached Thee are fallen upon me.” Yet surely she is but “black as the curtains of Solomon,” that is to say, only in her exterior, and not also within. For there is nothing black in the interior of this Solomon of mine. Observe that she does not say, “I am black as Solomon,” but only “as the curtains,” that is, as the skin “of Solomon,” because the blackness of the true Peaceful One is all on the surface. The blackness of guilt shows itself within. Sin discolours the interior before it appears exteriorly to the eye. So it is written, “From the heart come forth evil thoughts, murders, adulteries, fornications, thefts, false testimonies, blasphemies, these are the things that defile a man.” God forbid that blackness of this kind should be found in Solomon! No, such defilement you shall never discover in Him Who is truly called the Peaceful. For He, “Who taketh away the sins of the world,” ought Himself to be without sin, in order that He may be found worthy to win peace for sinners, and so may be justly entitled to the name of Solomon.

But there is, besides, the blackness of afflicted penitence, which appears when we conceive a heart-felt sorrow for our sins. I do not think that Solomon will contemn me for this kind of blackness, if voluntarily assumed on account of my transgressions, because “a contrite and humbled heart, O God, Thou wilt not despise.” There is also the blackness of tender compassion, which we exhibit whenever we sympathise with our suffering brethren, as if we were discoloured by our neighbour’s misfortune. Neither do I think that this blackness will be displeasing to our Peaceful One, since He Himself condescended to assume it for our sakes, “Who bore our sins in His Body upon the tree.” Another kind of blackness is that of persecution. This should be valued as a most beautiful ornament, when borne for the sake of justice and truth. Hence we read that the apostles “went from the presence of the council, rejoicing that they were accounted worthy to suffer reproach for the name of Jesus.” And the Lord says: “Blessed are they that suffer persecution for justice sake.” It is in this blackness, most of all, as I think, that the Church glories. It is this she endeavours to copy more eagerly than any other of the black curtains of Solomon. She has even been promised a participation in it, in the words of Christ, “If they have persecuted Me, they will also persecute you.”

Therefore the Spouse goes on to say, “Do not consider that I am brown, because the sun hath altered my colour.” That is to say, “Do not find fault with me as uncomely because Thou dost not find me fair and blooming under the stress of affliction, nor beautifully tinted, according to human standards of beauty. Why wouldst Thou reproach me with a blackness due to the violence of persecution rather than to the defilement of transgression? Or perhaps by the sun she means the zeal for justice by which she is inflamed and aroused against the malignant, saying with the Psalmist, “The zeal of Thy house hath eaten me up”; and “My zeal hath made me pine away, because my enemies forgot Thy words”; also, “A fainting hath taken hold of me, because of the wicked that forsake Thy law”; likewise, “Have I not hated them, O Lord, that hated Thee, and pined away because of Thy enemies?” She also carefully follows the advice of the Wise Man, “Hast thou daughters? Shew not thy countenance gay towards them.” For herein she is counselled to exhibit not the brightness of serenity, but the darkness of severity to such as are lax and effeminate and haters of discipline. Or again, to be discoloured by the sun may mean to burn with the flame of fraternal charity, like St. Paul, to “weep with them that weep,” to be weak with the weak, to be on fire when any is scandalised. Still another interpretation: we may understand the Spouse as saying, “Christ, the Sun of Justice, has discoloured me, because I languish with the love of Him.” Such languor destroys in a manner the natural hue, and causes a swooning of the spirit, so to speak, through the intense ardour of the soul’s desires. Hence the Prophet testifies, “I remembered God and was delighted, and was exercised, and my spirit swooned away.” Therefore, the ardour of desire, like a burning sun, darkens the complexion of the pilgrim longing for the Vision of Glory, whilst impatience is begotten of disappointment and eagerness of love is tormented by delay. Which of us, my brethren, is so on fire with holy love, that in his yearning to behold Christ, he loathes and leaves aside all the brightness and joy of earthly glory and gratification, protesting to Him in the words of the Prophet Jeremias, “And I have not desired the day of man, Thou knowest,” and saying with holy David, “My soul refused to be comforted,” that is, she disdained to be brightened with the empty joys of worldly honours. Or, finally, she may have meant this: “The Sun hath darkened my colour by the contrast with His own Divine Splendour. For as I draw nigh to Him I am made more sensible of my own duskiness. I obtain a clearer knowledge of my own blackness, and I despise my ugliness. Yet in other respects I am truly beautiful. Why do you call me black, since I yield only to the Sun in loveliness?” But what follows seems to me to accord better with the interpretation of the blackness as the effect of violence. For the Spouse clearly indicates that she suffered persecution, by adding “The sons of my mother have fought against me.” But I shall take this as my text in the morrow’s discourse. To-day you must be satisfied with what you have already heard concerning the glory and by the grace of the Bridegroom of the Church, Our Lord Jesus Christ, Who is God, blessed for ever. Amen.