Longing and Eros
Longing and Eros
Song of Songs 1:2 – 2:7
Our text of scripture today comes from the Song of Songs, or the Song of Solomon, or the Canticle of Canticles – take your pick. And it begins a series of sermons we’re going to do between now and Lent looking at this poem. Song of Songs, some of you may or may not know, is an erotic poem. It doesn’t mention God. It’s right there in the middle of the scriptures after Ecclesiastes. And Carlene said after the 8:30 service, well you really should have announced you were preaching on this, you would have had more attendance the Sunday after Christmas.
The poem has three voices in it. Sometimes it’s hard to discern which one is speaking, and I wouldn’t worry about it, but there’s a woman who speaks about her lover, and sometimes she speaks for all of the women. There is a man who is the lover, who also speaks about the woman, his lover. Then there’s this crowd of witnesses that stands about, voyeuristically enjoying their love. While this beginning passage isn’t over the top erotic, parts of the song that we’ll be going over the next weeks are. But I’d like you to listen for the word of God as it might speak to you within this poem:
NRS Song of Solomon 1:2 Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth! For your love is better than wine, 3 your anointing oils are fragrant, your name is perfume poured out; therefore the maidens love you. 4 Draw me after you, let us make haste. The king has brought me into his chambers. We will exult and rejoice in you; we will extol your love more than wine; rightly do they love you. 5 I am black and beautiful, O daughters of Jerusalem, like the tents of Kedar, like the curtains of Solomon. 6 Do not gaze at me because I am dark, because the sun has gazed on me. My mother’s sons were angry with me; they made me keeper of the vineyards, but my own vineyard I have not kept! 7 Tell me, you whom my soul loves, where you pasture your flock, where you make it lie down at noon; for why should I be like one who is veiled beside the flocks of your companions? 8 If you do not know, O fairest among women, follow the tracks of the flock, and pasture your kids beside the shepherds’ tents. 9 I compare you, my love, to a mare among Pharaoh’s chariots. 10 Your cheeks are comely with ornaments, your neck with strings of jewels. 11 We will make you ornaments of gold, studded with silver. 12 While the king was on his couch, my nard gave forth its fragrance. 13 My beloved is to me a bag of myrrh that lies between my breasts. 14 My beloved is to me a cluster of henna blossoms in the vineyards of En-gedi. 15 Ah, you are beautiful, my love; ah, you are beautiful; your eyes are doves. 16 Ah, you are beautiful, my beloved, truly lovely. Our couch is green; 17 the beams of our house are cedar, our rafters are pine. 2:1I am a rose of Sharon, a lily of the valleys. 2 As a lily among brambles, so is my love among maidens. 3 As an apple tree among the trees of the wood, so is my beloved among young men. With great delight I sat in his shadow, and his fruit was sweet to my taste. 4 He brought me to the banqueting house, and his intention toward me was love. 5 Sustain me with raisins, refresh me with apples; for I am faint with love. 6 O that his left hand were under my head, and that his right hand embraced me! 7 I adjure you, O daughters of Jerusalem, by the gazelles or the wild does: do not stir up or awaken love until it is ready!
I have a very good friend, and when he was in seminary – he’s a pastor now – he fell in love with a lovely woman. As it came the time when they were thinking of getting married, he tried to figure out what the setting might be to ask her. So they laid out a nice thick carpet on the living room floor, and they put some candles all around it, and they took off their clothes, and they read the Song of Songs to each other, the male and the female voice. And he would read a passage and then she’d read something. But the trouble is that the romance was sometimes broken because she’d say (in shock), “This is in the Bible?”
And her question has been asked over and over again throughout the centuries, both by Jews and Christians. The interpretation of this particular poem has been problematic and difficult. It figures because it’s a poem, so it’s going to have a complex matrix of interpretations. No doubt about it. One way to look at the poem is simply as an allegory. That’s how I was taught, when I went to Bible camp when I was a kid. It was just about the relationship between you and God; the whole sexual thing is just an allegory to describe your relationship to God.
Well, at its best, that interpretation suggests the union is reflective of the desire, and the union, and the commitment that can occur between us and God. At its very best it’s a wonderful way to work with the Song as we long for and reach towards God. We open ourselves and God’s presence in our lives becomes a gift, just like sexual union is a gift we give and receive to and from one another. It’s a wonderful allegory. It’s why we sit, looking for that grounding, that envelopment of the spirit of God that wraps around us.
Teresa of Avilla, one of the great mystics, saw the Spirit bring her into ecstasy. There’s a sculpture of her in Rome. Here’s the slide:
Ok, she’s there lying on the ground, and there’s an angel about to pierce her with an arrow, and she is in ecstasy, maybe even a moment of orgasm, who can say? When we look at this poem as an allegory of our relationship to the Divine, it draws us into the presence of God, into the presence of Spirit in a way that makes us feel complete and whole. That view is thorough-going through the scripture – thorough-going.
We are reflective in our sexuality of God, we are the image of God in that way. Throughout the Old Testament, God refers to Israel as God’s bride – admittedly, usually unfaithful. We’re referred to as the church as the Bride of Christ. At its’ best, to describe the intimate relationships with God as sexual is simply to say that our sexuality reflects the beauty of our relationship with God.
But at its worst, to take this as an allegory alone, it moves us to denigrate the physical. It moves us to think ill of the physical, and we’ve talked about this the last couple of weeks. It’s really what the Letter to the Colossians is all about. That spiritual experience, the attainment of some Nirvana we seek to have, that grounding we seek, is not intended to be divorced from the real world. It’s not intended to be divorced from the reality of the world around us. And so at its worst, an allegory makes it say “to heck with sex, to heck with our bodies, none of that matters, I only want to be close to God.”
But when we withdraw from human connection, or worse still, we decide that the only thing that is important is our relationship to God, then what difference does it make how we use our bodies – whether we use them sexually with many people or not? Whether we tear people down with our bodies or build people up? What difference does it make? At its worst, that’s where the allegory can go.
Now some people take this poem to be purely an erotic expression, a celebration of human sexuality. That’s what it’s here for; it’s intended to inspire us to enjoy our sexual relationships, our contact, man to man, woman to woman, man to woman. And at its best it’s a wonderful thing because what it suggests is that our union, our communication, any way we communicate with our bodies, is in fact a reflection, an expression of God’s love for one another. At its best, the celebration of human sexuality is a wondrous thing, because it draws us together.
People are paying some attention to that outside the church, I’ve notice. Ever hear of tantric sex? Part of what that’s about is a set of exercises you do, some breathing exercises, ways of touching that seek to connect the bodies slowly and at a spiritual level, before you move into more intense sexual expression. A reflection of the beauty and the wonder of God’s longing and desire for us.
There’s a pastor somewhere in the Midwest a while ago that kept telling people that they had to make love, that it’s really a good thing, that’s sort of along those lines. It’s important that we find ways to express ourselves with one another.
But at its worst, at its worst, this poem has been used to denigrate people. Sexuality has been pulled into religious ceremony, and it ends up being kind of ugly and usury, generally of women. Throughout the history of Israel in the Old Testament, they were surrounded by cultures that engaged in sympathetic magic, like having Temple prostitutes, sold into sexual slavery so that it would inspire the gods that pour down gifts upon the world. And it keeps going. Not too long ago there was some cult leader in San Francisco that managed to talk some women into the idea that having sex with him would bring about some spiritual nirvana.
Throughout the centuries the poem has been misused this way. At its best, a reflection of the desire and longing we have for God and God has for us, and at its worst, something that encourages usury destructive sexual behavior.
The question is how are we to stay in that holy place? How are we to have our bodies move into that more holy place? And wouldn’t you know it, it’s the Jews who seem to get it. They have such an incredible, spiritual imagination. It’s like the foundation of everything we believe comes from them, is then moved through the vision of Jesus the Christ. But they get it.
This scroll, the Song of Songs, it’s one of five scrolls called the Megillot. Five scrolls. And the Jews have five festivals during the years. You know, we have Christmas and Easter… They have five main festivals during the year, and one of these scrolls is read at every one of these festivals. So at the Shivat, when they’re celebrating the gift of the law to the people of God, they read Ruth, as if to say all people can reach out and be identified by the law of love. It doesn’t have to be just Jews. At Tisha Be-ab they mourn the destruction of the two temples, and they read the lamentation, this poem of deep dread and deep sorrow. At Sukkoth, the festival of booths, where they celebrate and reflect on the experience of wilderness and the presence of God, they read Ecclesiastes, a book that recognizes the difficulty and the struggle in life, the vaporousness, that we can’t get a hold of, and yet honors the search for deep wisdom in the midst of all of that. And then you come to the main festival, the one that identifies the people of God the most clearly: Passover, where they read the Song of Songs.
A number of us have been reading the whole Bible this year. You read the whole of scripture and you get a sense of its flow, what German scholars call the Heilsgeschichte– there’s a way in which the plot of scripture is God working to save God’s people. It’s a document that talks about the engagement of the people with the presence of God so that they can become people that are whole and complete, at peace, shalom. But always in the midst of that salvation history, that Heilsgeschichte, things don’t go smoothly, it doesn’t happen easily. Instead it comes through sacrifice and suffering and sorrow; always with God it’s a movement from death to resurrection, exile to homecoming, slavery to freedom. And so this is what is celebrated on Passover, the wondrous freedom that they feel from the people of Egypt. And yet it was built on death, the death of the first born of all the Egyptians. It’s as though hope rises out of the ashes with God.
When I think about God’s salvation, when I concern myself with whether or not God is going to be a God that’s going to head me into a new and good direction, I used to spend a lot of time in my life wondering whether or not I was good enough to receive God’s grace and love. I spent a lot of time wondering if I was going to be living as Ezekiel, as if the fire would come down on me. I spent a lot of time wondering about that, and questioning sometimes if I have the motives of God.
Sometimes we can get lost in that, in the story that involves sacrifice and suffering, in a move to new life. But at that very moment, while they’re celebrating the freedom they have, recognizing where it comes from, they read the Song of Songs, as if to say at root, what this is all about is God’s deep desire to draw us towards God’s self. What this is all about is encouraging us to be open to the presence of God, to give the gift of ourselves to the presence of God, so that we can receive that in union with God.
You don’t think you’re loved? If you don’t think you’re loved by God, read the Song of Songs. It’s a poem for you, because it does work as an allegory. God’s deep desire is for you. It works, too, as a human poem, because the love of God can be shared one to another through our bodies. Not just in the bedroom; that’s why I give a hug to anyone who wants one on the way out, and not to anyone who doesn’t. It’s an expression of God’s love.
How do we keep ourselves in the situation where we can use our bodies to express God’s love? We allow ourselves to be filled with the presence of God and then we seek to share that with one another. It’s a spiritual allegory, a celebration of human sexuality. At some point those two things just come together.
Now the truth is that analyzing poems doesn’t work very well. Poems need to speak for themselves. What I just did is give you some notes about this poem, and I’d like to read the text again now to you, and let it strike your heart. I’m going to read now a paraphrase by a Tom Gledhill, who wrote a commentary on this Song of Songs. He’s a fairly evangelical scholar, and he did a beautiful, beautiful job:
Oh to feel the deepness
of the kisses of your mouth!
Your gentle touch intoxicates.
your fondling strokes inflame,
a heady wine more potent
than any ancient vintage.
The aroma of your presence,
the fresh fragrance of your name
a wafted scent of perfume sweet,
to shed abroad your fame.
With such a reputation,
you are bathed in admiration
by the virgin city maidens,
who are eager for your love.
My darling, take me with you.
Quick, make haste, let’s run!
My royal king has drawn me
to his inner private sanctum,
the haven for our love.
How we exult in you!
The memory of your fragrant love
shall never fade away,
the mellowness of smooth, mulled wine,
lingering long and there to stay
Sun scorched, am I, and stunning!
O city maidens pale creations
of cosmetic creams.
But as for me with darkness deep
do I with luster shine
the warm black depth
of distant nomad tents
of Solomon’s dusky shades.
Stare not at me so deeply dark,
avert your hostile glare.
The sun, her fiery gaze, has cast on me
and burnt me with her heat.
My brother’s anger also flared,
they took me all to task,
and made me labor in the sun;
to cultivate their vineyards,
their trellises to mend.
Alas, alas,
that luscious vine uniquely mine,
I’ve had no time to tend.
Oh where shall I find you my shepherd love?
Where do you graze?
Where laid to rest
amidst the haze
of noonday’s heat?
Tell me! Tell me! Lest I should wander
in futile search, appear to loiter,
my name besmirch
‘mongst your companions with their flocks.
Don’t ask me that, most beautiful one.
Surely you know the place
of my true pasture.
Bring your own kids and follow the tracks.
There you will find me
by the shepherd’s own shelters,
and no one will know that
you have come just for me.
A mare magnificently groomed,
a filly in fine fettle.
Sporting amidst lusty stallions
of Egypt’s royal chariots.
Entrancing in allure,
with secret pulse of naked power,
so thinly veiled, your flawless flanks
enhanced in ribbons.
How beautiful!
Your cheeks, smooth curves
enframed by rings of brazen bangles,
which dangle down
by slender tower,
by neck bedecked by beads.
We’ll crown you with more royalty,
O maiden queen, with costly gems,
with rings of golden sheen
and sparkling spikes of silver.
My king, spread eagled sprawls
at ease upon his sofa,
enwrapped in mists of scented shawls
enveloped by their aura.
A pendant pouch of mirth to me
at night, he lies between my breast.
A spray of henna blossom, he
upon my fragrant vineyard,
the oasis of En-Gedi.
How beautiful you are, my precious one.
Your shy, coy glances, their gentle invitations give.
Your eyes a pair of fluttering doves.
Indeed, delightful are you, my lover.
Handsome above all others,
on natures verdant litter,
there we lie. We rest
on greeny sward in
Eden’s secret glade,
enwrapped in natures close embrace,
a bower of never-failing foliage,
a canopy of firs.
What draws your eye to gaze alone
full focus, just on me, on me?
On me a common daisy blooming
amidst myriads by the river brim?
Not so, not so, my daisy dear.
Oh rare, exotic flower,
of stately stem, and radiant bloom,
so dazzling in your bower
amidst the dark of nature’s thorny thicket
of bramble and briar.
A luscious lime, a citrus tree,
A source of sweet refreshment he.
An island in the dryness of
the wild and tangled wood,
sheltered in his shade I rest relaxed, secure.
The sweetness of his tasty fruit
the object of desire.
He is brought me to this cellar.
I have tasted of his wine,
his glance towards me heavy
with the urgency of love,
his desire, his intent, with one purpose is bent,
our love to fulfill.
Oh spread me out and bed me down
in rugs of raisin cakes and beds of golden apples.
Come now, come soon, I faint, I swoon,
so eager to consume the fruit of our desire.
I rest within his encircled arm,
his hand my contours strokes.
Oh daughters of Jerusalem, I put you under oath.
Swear to me by wild gazelles and antelopes,
by our ancestral deity, by our covenant God,
do not disturb us ‘til we have drunk our fill of love.
Modified
