Sermons on the Song of Songs

“There are indeed other Shepherds besides Thee, who say they are Thy companions, but are not. These have their own flocks and their own pastures, filled with the food of death, wherein they feed their sheep not with Thee nor under Thy direction. But their bounds I have not entered, nor even so much as approached. They are those who say ‘Lo, here is Christ; lo, He is there,’ promising more abundant fields of wisdom and knowledge. And they impose on the people and draw to them multitudes whom they make ‘children of hell twofold more than themselves.’ Wherefore this? It is because we have here neither the meridian nor the clear light of day, wherein the truth might be readily recognised, for which now falsity, because of its resemblance to it, is easily mistaken; for it is difficult to distinguish them in the twilight, especially since ‘stolen waters are sweeter and hidden bread more pleasant.’ And, therefore, I entreat Thee to ‘show me where Thou feedest, where Thou liest in the mid-day,’ that is, in the broad daylight, lest I be seduced and ‘begin to wander after the flocks of Thy companions,’ who are themselves but strays and wanderers, having no certain truth to direct them, ‘ever learning and never attaining to a knowledge of the truth.’” So far the Spouse, speaking of the doctrines, as various as vain, of heretics and philosophers.

It seems to me, however, that not alone on account of such human seducers, but also because of the wiles of the invisible powers, the lying spirits who sit in ambush with their “arrows prepared in the quiver, to shoot in the dark the upright of heart”—it seems to me, I say, that because of these especially, we also ought to desire the mid-day, in order to detect by the clear light the cunning snares of the demon, and to distinguish easily from our good angel that angel of Satan who transforms himself into an angel of light. For it is only in the light of noon-day that we can defend ourselves from “the invasion and from the noon-day devil.” And the reason why that demon is called the noon-day devil is, I believe, this. There are some amongst the malignant spirits, who although by reason of their darkened and obstinate will, they may justly be named night and night everlasting, yet know how to simulate the day, and even the noon-day, in order to deceive us. So their leader, not content with making himself the equal of God, goes so far as to “oppose and to be lifted up against all that is called God, or that is worshipped.” Whenever, therefore, such a noon-day devil takes hold of anyone to tempt him, it is quite impossible that he should be thwarted and fail of his object, but he will most certainly seduce and supplant his victim by the false appearance of virtue, moving the incautious and unguarded soul to take evil for good, unless the true Noon-day, the Orient from on high, shall enlighten her, and unmask and expose the deceiver. And it is when he comes to us with the suggestion of a greater good, as it were, that the tempter appears as the noon-day, that is, in more than his usual brightness.

How often, for example, has he not urged one or other of you, my brethren, to anticipate the hour of rising, so that afterwards he might have the satisfaction of seeing him nodding whilst all the rest were employed in praising God! How often has he not induced another to prolong his fast until loss of strength rendered him useless for the divine service! How many, through envy of the rapid progress they were making in community life, has he not persuaded, under the pretext of higher perfection, to seek the desert! And at length, when it was all too late, his poor dupes came to realise the truth of the oracle, “Woe to him that is alone, for when he falleth he hath none to lift him up!” How many also has he not tempted to apply themselves with excessive zeal to manual labour, with the view that they might injure their health and so require to be dispensed from all the regular exercises! What numbers has he not led to undertake “bodily exercise,” which, (according to the Apostle, is “profitable to little,” not in a little but in too great a degree, and so defrauded them of the merit of piety! Finally, you yourselves, my brethren, know by experience how some—and I speak it to their shame—who once could not be restrained within the limits of moderation, being carried on in everything by the spirit of intemperate zeal, have afterwards relapsed into such a depth of sloth that we may apply to them the words of St. Paul: they began in the spirit and are now ending in the flesh. For they seem now to have made a most dishonourable peace with those bodies against which they had previously declared merciless war. You may see such religious—shame on them, I say!—who before used to refuse even necessaries with the utmost obstinacy, now begging importunately for superfluities. And even though there be some who still continue inflexibly stubborn, by their indiscreet abstinence and notable singularity still disturbing the consciences of their brethren with whom they should “dwell together in unity,” I know not whether they suppose themselves to have preserved their piety, but to me they seem to have renounced it even more completely than those others above-mentioned. For religious persons who, being wise in their own conceit, have determined with themselves to be guided neither by the commands nor the counsels of their superiors, ought to consider what answer they shall make, not to me, but to Him Who says, “It is like the sin of witchcraft to rebel; and like the crime of idolatry to refuse to obey.” And He declared just before that “Obedience is better than sacrifices, and to hearken rather than to offer the fat of rams”—where the fat of rams may be taken to signify the abstinence of the obstinate. Hence the Lord asks by the mouth of His Prophet, “Shall I eat the flesh of bullocks? or shall I drink the blood of goats?” By which He means to tell us that He will reject utterly the fastings of the proud and the sensual.

But I now feel apprehensive lest, whilst condemning the superstitiously austere, I should seem to encourage the lax, and that the latter should hear to their hurt what has been offered as a remedy to the former. Wherefore, let both the one class and the other remember that there are four kinds of temptation. They are thus described for us in the words of the Psalmist, “His truth shall compass thee with a shield; thou shalt not be afraid of the terror of the night; of the arrow that flieth in the day; of the business that walketh about in the dark; of invasion, or of the noon-day devil.” Let all, even you who are neither over-lax nor over-austere, be now attentive to what I think will be profitable to all. Every one of us, my brethren, after his conversion to the Lord, has experienced and does still experience in himself that which Holy Scripture says, “Son, when thou comest to the service of God, stand in justice and fear, and prepare thy soul for temptation.” Consequently, according to the rule of ordinary providence, during the first stage of our conversion we were agitated with fear, which is excited in the minds of beginners by the terrifying prospect of a stricter life, and the austerity of regular discipline. Now, this fear is called the “terror of the night,” either because the word “night” is used in Holy Scripture to designate adversity; or because we are kept still in the dark about the reward for the sake of which we go forward to suffer what is painful. For if that day had fully brightened, in the light of which we could behold with equal clearness both our labours and the immortal crowns which shall compensate them, no toils, however great, would inspire us with alarm, on account of the eagerness with which we should long for the fruits of them, thus distinctly perceived. This is clear from the words of the Apostle, “The sufferings of this time are not worthy to be compared with the glory to come, that shall be revealed in us.” But now, because they—the rewards—are hidden from our eyes, there is night meantime and in so far. For we are tempted by the “terror of the night,” being afraid to endure our present labours for the crowns which we do not see. Beginners, therefore, have to watch and pray against this first temptation particularly, lest, suddenly overtaken by “pusillanimity of spirit and the storm,” they should—which God forbid!—abandon their holy enterprise.