You who dwell in the gardens with friends in attendance, let me hear your voice! Come away, my lover, and be like a gazelle or like a young stag on the spice-laden mountains. (Song of Songs 8: 13-14)

The Lover (and Beloved) calls to hear the voice of the Beloved (and Lover).

The one within the garden responds: Come away, go away, even run away.

Be as a wild thing, be something primal, be very real.

The most ancient love story we know involves a beauty within the walls attempting to domesticate a beast from the forest. (Gilgamesh)

In this Song of Songs the beauty within the walls instead encourages fleeing to the mountains. Love does not bind, it frees and empowers.

St. John of the Cross concludes his Canticle with,

Let us rejoice, Beloved,
and let us go forth to behold ourselves in your beauty,
to the mountain and to the hill,
to where the pure water flows,and further, deep into the thicket.

And then we will go onto the high caverns in the rock
which are so well concealed;
there we shall enter
and taste the fresh juice of the pomegranates.

There you will show me
what my soul has been seeking,
and then you will give me,

you, my life, will give me there
what you gave me on that other day:
the breathing of the air,
the song of the sweet nightingale,
the grove and its living beauty
in the serene night,
with a flame that is consuming and painless.

Above is from the Rothschild Canticle. In the upper register the Beloved is in a deep sleep under a midday sun. Below her, Christ addresses the daughters of Jerusalem while pointing up toward the Beloved with his right hand. With his left hand, Christ points to the roes and stags in the bottom register.

This concludes over fifty days with the Song of Songs. Please join me in a new study of the kingdom sayings of Jesus at http://kingdomsayings.blogspot.com/

Solomon had a vineyard in Baal Hamon; he let out his vineyard to tenants. Each was to bring for its fruit a thousand shekels of silver. But my own vineyard is mine to give; the thousand shekels are for you, O Solomon, and two hundred are for those who tend its fruit. (Song of Songs 8:11-12)

Ariel and Chana Bloch offer the following translation:

King Solomon had a vineyard
on the Hill of Plenty.
He gave that vineyard to watchmen
and each would earn for its fruit
one thousand pieces of silver.

My vineyard is all my own.
Keep your thousand, Solomon! And pay
two hundred to those
who must guard the fruit.

Love is worth much more than material wealth.

Vineyards must be guarded. Store houses will burn. Tenants will refuse to pay.

Love is self-protecting and and persistently giving.

I am a wall, and my breasts are like towers. Thus I have become in his eyes like one bringing contentment. (Song of Songs 8:10)

The Beloved responds, "Fine, if you want me to be a wall, I will be a wall."

I am an enclosed space. I am a protected place.

Come inside. Let me embrace you, envelope you.

Find contentment in my towers. Know peace in my courtyards.

The final word is shalom: contentment, peace, fullness, wholeness.

We have a young sister, and her breasts are not yet grown. What shall we do for our sister for the day she is spoken for? If she is a wall, we will build towers of silver on her. If she is a door, we will enclose her with panels of cedar. (Song of Songs 8: 8-9)

Scholars disagree about who is speaking. Whoever it is perceives the need to care for a younger sister.

Do they propose to close off or to attract?

The wall and door can each separate. But a silver tower would certainly attract. Transforming a simple door by enclosing it with elaborate paneling of aromatic wood might also be a signal of welcome.

What is the best strategy? Offence or Defense?

The goal is preparing for the day when she speaks or is spoken for, the day when her identity and purpose are fulfilled.

Above is from the Rothschild Canticle. The Virgin Mary stands atop a mountain with a flowering rod in her right hand with her left, gestures towards a flaming sun to the right, which shoots golden rays at her. Three men dance in adoration at the base of the mountain, while two others dance in the towers flanking the mountain.

Place me like a seal over your heart, like a seal on your arm; for love is as strong as death, its jealousy unyielding as the grave. It burns like blazing fire, like a mighty flame. Many waters cannot quench love; rivers cannot wash it away. If one were to give all the wealth of his house for love, it would be utterly scorned. (Song of Songs 8:6-7)

Love is_

A seal over your heart: shared identity, honor, and fate.

Strong as death: never-ending, hard as iron, fierce.

Unyielding as the grave: severe, intense, stubborn.

Like a blazing fire: thunderbolt, lightening, consuming.

Unquenchable: cannot be put out, cannot be extinguished, persistent.

Unable to be washed away: engulfing, overwhelming, transforming.

Beyond cost, priceless, irreplaceable.

Who is this coming up from the desert leaning on her lover? Under the apple tree I roused you; there your mother conceived you, there she who was in labor gave you birth. (Song of Songs 8:5)

The Friends ask, the Beloved responds to her Lover.

The suggestion is that something connects the Beloved's rousing and the mother's birthing.

There, under the fruit tree, is something profoundly elemental.

The Hebrew - chabal - can mean conceived or in labor, as above, but there is a strong sense of the mother being in travail, writhing and twisting in pain.

From that pain the Lover was brought forth - yalad - born, delivered, given form.

Somehow the Beloved has resolved the elemental pain with elemental delight.

I would lead you and bring you to my mother's house— she who has taught me. I would give you spiced wine to drink, the nectar of my pomegranates. His left arm is under my head and his right arm embraces me. Daughters of Jerusalem, I charge you: Do not arouse or awaken love until it so desires. (Song of Songs 8:2-4)

St. John of the Cross writes from the Lover's perspective:

The bride has entered
the sweet garden of her desire,
and she rests in delight,
laying her neck
on the gentle arms of her Beloved.

How do we experience such shared bliss?

We are charged not to arouse - literally open the eyes - or awaken - more literally to excite or stir up - love until love itself is ready, ripe, bending down as a fruit tree bends downs with fruit ready to be plucked.

We do not cultivate, we do not cause, we do not inculcate love. We receive when love is ready.

Until now love has been dowd. This is a love of which Ezekiel writes, "Then I passed by you and saw you, and behold, you were at the time for love; so I spread My skirt over you and covered your nakedness." It is a sudden sexuality.

Here love becomes 'ahabah. This is the love of which Genesis tells, "So Jacob served seven years for Rachel and they seemed to him but a few days because of his love for her." It is a patient and continuing engagement.

We do not pursue. We do not seduce. But we can be attentive and ready to receive.

Above from the Rothschild Canticle. In the top register, men and women dance in a secular setting. In the middle register, Christ welcomes into Heaven five Wise Virgins who are crowned, hold flaming lamps, and stand on crenellated battlements. In the lowest register, five Foolish Virgins are barred from entering and a demon topples them with a halbert.