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.

If only you were to me like a brother, who was nursed at my mother's breasts! Then, if I found you outside, I would kiss you, and no one would despise me. (Song of Songs 8:1)

If only it was socially acceptable to kiss you, love you, be in relationship with you.

This is not the impediment it once was for our varied human relationships.

Modernity, mobility, and different notions of morality have in many places loosened the strictures of social sanction.

But somehow some loves continue to prompt suspicion and worse.

The Hebrew verb nashaq, depending on context, means to touch gently, to come together, to kiss (as above) or to be armed, as in "They were armed with bows, using both the right hand and the left to sling stones and to shoot arrows from the bow..." (1Chronicles 12:2)

For some lovers in some places they may need to be well-armed before they should kiss.

And in many places a public display of affection for God is despised. How is it that love should be so threatening?

Come, my lover, let us go to the countryside, let us spend the night in the henna bushes. Let us go early to the vineyards to see if the vines have budded, if their blossoms have opened, and if the pomegranates are in bloom— there I will give you my love. The mandrakes send out their fragrance, and at our door is every delicacy, both new and old, that I have stored up for you, my lover. (Song of Songs 7: 10-13)

Let us rise early to consider the budding - parach - sprouting, breaking out, sending forth.

Let us rise early to see the opening - pathach - loosening, freeing, the opening of oneself.

Let us rise early to check the blooming - natsats - shining, sparkling, gleaming.

Let us rise early - shakam - to allow love to do its work.

What is true love? We can know it from its fruits: parach, pathach, and natsats.

May the wine go straight to my lover, flowing gently over lips and teeth. I belong to my lover, and his desire is for me. (Song of Songs 7:9-10)

Ariel and Chana Bloch provide an enlightening commentary, reproduced here:

'ani le-dodi ve-'aly, tesuqato, literally "I am my lover's and his desire is for me." the use of tesuqah "desire" calls attention to itself, since this particular word occurs at only two others points in the Bible - indecidedly negative contexts: Genesis 3:16 "your desire shall be for your husband (el 'isek tesuqatek) and he shall rule over you" and Genesis 4:7 "its (Sin's) desire is for you ('eleyka tesuqato) yet you must master (literally, rule over) it." The resemblance between these three verses extends beyond the use of this particular word to a specific detail of syntax, namely that the prepositional phrase marking the object of desire occurs before tesuqah for emphasis; compare 1:4, 3:3.

In Genesis, man is expected to rule over woman, as well as over Sin (the use of the same verb - masal "to rule" - in both verses makes the parallelism painfully obvious). Moreover, sexual desire is presented as entirely one-directional: woman desires man, and he has dominion over her.

In light of the patently similar wording, (the passage above) reads almost like a deliberate reversal of Genesis 3:16, turning it upside down by making the woman the object of desire. And instead of the dominion of man over woman, the present verse speaks of a relationship of mutuality, expressed in a formula of reciprocal love like that in 2:16, 6:3. In the Song, sex is free of notions of control, dominion, hierarchy."

Above is from the Rothschild Canticle. In the upper register, Christ tenderly touches the chin of the Beloved with his left, and the Beloved reciprocates the gesture. A golden sun engulfs and shines behind them. The lower register is divided diagonally with snow and rain in the lower left and plants and a dove in a gold ground in the upper right.

Your stature is like that of the palm, and your breasts like clusters of fruit. I said, "I will climb the palm tree; will take hold of its fruit." May your breasts be like the clusters of the vine, the fragrance of your breath like apples, and your mouth like the best wine. (Song of Songs 7:7-9)

The Beloved is very tall, nearly inaccessible. But the Lover will climb.

We tried to climb at Babel and Jacob dreamed of climbing. By climbing we could claim our desire... a cluster of dates, sexual union, or much more.

Diotima taught Socrates, Socrates taught Plato, and Plato taught us: "For he who would proceed aright in this matter should begin in youth to visit beautiful forms; and first, if he be guided by his instructor aright, to love one such form only-out of that he should create fair thoughts; and soon he will of himself perceive that the beauty of one form is akin to the beauty of another; and then if beauty of form in general is his pursuit, how foolish would he be not to recognize that the beauty in every form is and the same! And when he perceives this he will abate his violent love of the one, which he will despise and deem a small thing, and will become a lover of all beautiful forms; in the next stage he will consider that the beauty of the mind is more honourable than the beauty of the outward form." (Symposium)

But another taught that it is not in climbing but in descending the tree, not in striving but in self-giving, that love is fulfilled.

Your neck is like an ivory tower. Your eyes are the pools of Heshbon by the gate of Bath Rabbim. Your nose is like the tower of Lebanon looking toward Damascus. Your head crowns you like Mount Carmel. Your hair is like royal tapestry; the king is held captive by its tresses. How beautiful you are and how pleasing, O love, with your delights! (Song of Songs: 7:4-6)

We are delighted by that which exceeds us: an ivory tower, tower of Lebanon, Mount Carmel.

We can be entranced by dancing, flickering reflections as in a pool of water.

We may be captivated - literally bound and imprisoned - by something as simple as wavy hair.

Another translation concludes, "My love with all your charms." These are dainty, delicate, exquisite but all rather meaningless attractions.

If they lead to something more, such attractions can have value. But we should see these as clues for, rather than sources of, value.

How beautiful your sandalled feet, O prince's daughter! Your graceful legs are like jewels, the work of a craftsman's hands. Your navel is a rounded goblet that never lacks blended wine. Your waist is a mound of wheat encircled by lilies. Your breasts are like two fawns, twins of a gazelle. (Song of Songs 7:1-3)

The archetypal female form is exalted. She is soft, round, and supple.

The Hebrew is even moreso: Her graceful legs are turns/curves/rounds of your thighs.

Her navel is the bowl/basin/cup of the moon.

Her belly is a mound of threshed and winnowed wheat: all coarseness has been removed, almost a powder.

She is profoundly other. Compare her belly with his, described in chapter 5:14 as a polished block of ivory.

She dances the eternal circle, weaving Omega with her sandalled feet.

In Love hard and soft - round and straight - light and darkness are joined.

Above is from the Rothschild Canticle. Christ holds five souls in an encircling cloth and a small, gold-leaf sun shines on Christ's chest. In the lower register, Christ appears twice, leaning out of windows from a building in the center. On the right Christ wipes tears from the eyes of Virgins. On the left Christ introduces them to heaven.

Come back, come back, O Shulammite; come back, come back, that we may gaze on you! Why would you gaze on the Shulammite as on the dance of Mahanaim? (Song of Songs 6:13)

The friends call for the Beloved to return.

Some perceive the Lover berating the friends for staring at the Beloved's dance. Others have the friends ask the Lover why he stares at her.

Above these verses close the sixth chapter. Others have this opening the seventh chapter.

The meaning of Shulammite, used only here, is uncertain. There are many learned speculations.

The meaning of Mahanaim is debated. The King James treats it to mean "company of two armies." The Bloch's find "rows of dancers."

Is this the beginning or the end? Are we fighting or dancing? What is our reality?

I went down to the grove of nut trees to look at the new growth in the valley, to see if the vines had budded or the pomegranates were in bloom. Before I realised it, my desire set me among the royal chariots of my people. (Song of Songs 6:11-12)

For many - probably most - scholars this describes the Lover's and Beloved's sexual consummation.

For generations this description was ascribed to the Beloved. But in modern translations it has become the Lover's voice.

The erotic euphemisms are suggestive enough. The role of the chariot is, however, especially unclear.

Calling it the most difficult verse of the Song, the Bloch's offer, "And oh! before I was aware, she sat me in the most lavish of chariots."

Another translator allows us the ambiguity, "I knew not my soul, It made me -- chariots of my people Nadib."

Yet another possibility, "And before I fully realized it I was riding hard and fast as if in a noble chariot."

Who is this that appears like the dawn, fair as the moon, bright as the sun, majestic as the stars in procession? (Song of Songs 6:10)

The friends - daughters of Jerusalem - offer this astral adulation.

But for whom, the Lover or the Beloved? Perhaps for each - together - perhaps for Love itself.

We are drawn to the light. We are warmed by the fire. We are fulfilled by Love.

Above is from the Rothschild Canticle. Souls with crowns and sun collars emerge from the clouds around the edges of the picture frame. One soul floats upward towards Christ who wears a sun collar and swoops down to meet her.

You are beautiful, my darling, as Tirzah, lovely as Jerusalem, majestic as troops with banners. Turn your eyes from me; they overwhelm me. Your hair is like a flock of goats descending from Gilead. Your teeth are like a flock of sheep coming up from the washing. Each has its twin, not one of them is alone. Your temples behind your veil are like the halves of a pomegranate. Sixty queens there may be, and eighty concubines, and virgins beyond number; but my dove, my perfect one, is unique, the only daughter of her mother, the favourite of the one who bore her. The maidens saw her and called her blessed; the queens and concubines praised her. (Song of Songs 6:4-9)

The Lover appears. His praise echoes a similar description at the beginning of the fourth chapter.

Not previously emphasized is the Beloved as unique. Ariel and Chana Bloch offer,

One alone is my dove,
My perfect, my only one...

We are each one and only, we are each unique, and we crave to be known. We crave to be known deeply and fully.

St. John of the Cross wrote,

She lived in solitude,
and now in solitude has built her nest;
and in solitude he guides her,
he alone, who also bears
in solitude the wound of love.

According to St. John only one who is wounded - made vulnerable - by love can know another. It is shared vulnerabilty that allows for shared understanding.

In his commentary the Spanish saint explains, "The Bridegroom bears a great love for the solitude of the soul; but he is wounded much more by her love since, being wounded with love for him, she desired to live alone in respect to all things. And he does not wish to leave her alone, but wounded by the solitude she embraces for his sake, and observing that she is dissatisfied with any other thing, he alone guides her, drawing her to and absorbing her in himself."

Where has your lover gone, most beautiful of women? Which way did your lover turn, that we may look for him with you? My lover has gone down to his garden, to the beds of spices, to browse in the gardens and to gather lilies. I am my lover's and my lover is mine; he browses among the lilies. (Song of Songs 6:1-3)

The Beloved asks her friends for help finding the Lover. They ask where they might best begin looking. She responds by telling them precisely where to find him.

It is not uncommon for me to seek the help of others despite knowing precisely what is needed and having the ability to do it alone.

Often I do not act as I know is needed out of fear of failure, but I may also delay seeking the companionship of others. Knowing where to find Love does not always take me there.

My lover is radiant and ruddy, outstanding among ten thousand. His head is purest gold; his hair is wavy and black as a raven. His eyes are like doves by the water streams, washed in milk, mounted like jewels. His cheeks are like beds of spice yielding perfume. His lips are like lilies dripping with myrrh. His arms are rods of gold set with chrysolite. His body is like polished ivory decorated with sapphires. His legs are pillars of marble set on bases of pure gold. His appearance is like Lebanon, choice as its cedars. His mouth is sweetness itself; he is altogether lovely. This is my lover, this my friend, O daughters of Jerusalem. (Song of Songs 5:10-16)

In this symphony of praise the Beloved describes her Lover in a hyperbole of sensuality, solidity, fluidity, fertility, and fantastic abundance.

Where the translation above concludes with "he is altogether lovely," the Bloch's offer "his entirety is delight."

The Beloved's explanation of how her Lover differs from other men is entirely physical. But these explicit symbols are surely expressions of implicit substance.

The senses attract. The senses evoke - often provoke - desire. But do we know our desire well enough to recognize its fulfillment?

Do we desire purest gold, jewels, and polished ivory? Or are these merely cold and lifeless tokens for our true object of desire?

Above is from the Rothschild Canticle. Christ is shown full length and naked, posed between the column of flagellation and the cross. His left leg is tied to the column, he embraces the column with his right arm, and holds the whip of flagellation in his right hand even as he points to his side wound. His right foot and left hand is nailed to the cross. The crown of thorns lies beneath him.

O daughters of Jerusalem, I charge you— if you find my lover, what will you tell him? Tell him I am faint with love. How is your beloved better than others, most beautiful of women? How is your beloved better than others, that you charge us so? (Song of Songs 5:8-9)

The Beloved is not alone. The friends - daughters of Jerusalem - are charged and respond.

The daughters of Jerusalem remind me of a Greek chorus always present, always watching, but only occasionally involved and given voice.

Our modern bias - perhaps an especially American bias - is to view the Lover and Beloved as two individuals. Even if we approach the Song as spiritual metaphor, we focus on the dynamic dyad of Beloved and Lover.

But whatever the purpose of the author, there is also a social dynamic. There are brothers (1:6), watchmen, the Lover's companions (1:7), and friends.

We influence and are influenced by our relationships. Often our relationships are what determine our understanding of reality.

Ariel and Chana Bloch point out that the friends' response is characteristic of the (later) Talmudic interrogatory, "mah...min..." How is your lover better (different) than others? How is this different from that? This is an essential application of reason.

The watchmen found me as they made their rounds in the city. They beat me, they bruised me; they took away my cloak, those watchmen of the walls! (Song of Songs 5:7)

As the Beloved searches for her Lover she is hurt and abused.

Some have speculated that the approach of the watchmen explains the sudden departure of the Lover. This would reinforce the sense of an illicit love affair.

The Hebrew translated as watchmen is shamar. This is a verb. A more literal translation would read, "those watching, keeping, protecting, caring.

"Made their rounds" is cabab. This is another verb meaning turn, go about, change direction, surround, enclose.

City is by far the most common translation of 'iyr, which is a place that is watched. But it can also mean any place of excitement or anguish.

More meaningful for me might be, "My caution and turning made a place of anguish. I was hurt, bruised, and stripped by caution and confusion."

I arose to open for my lover, and my hands dripped with myrrh, my fingers with flowing myrrh, on the handles of the lock. I opened for my lover, but my lover had left; he was gone. My heart sank at his departure. I looked for him but did not find him. I called him but he did not answer. (Song of Songs 5:5-6)

There is the suggestion of self-indulgence. Myrrh was worth its weight in gold. The Beloved is dripping in it.

Self-indulgence is not the purpose of love nor will it lead to love. It is common to perceive love as self-fulfilling. Depending on what is meant, this can be a serious misunderstanding.

Love is fulfilling but its alchemy is self-transforming. Rather than self-indulgent, Love is more often self-giving.

Above is from the Rothschild Canticle. Mary stands with her arms raised, a moon between her feet, and a blazing sun with the face of the incarnate sun hanging before her abdomen.

I have taken off my robe — must I put it on again? I have washed my feet — must I soil them again? My lover thrust his hand through the latch-opening; my heart began to pound for him. (Song of Songs 5:3-4)

The Beloved is uncertain, divided, and hesitant; thrilled at the prospect and a bit frightened too.

The Lover has arrived in the darkness, knocking loudly, seeking entry.

The Beloved stands naked - or nearly so - behind a locked door, clearly wanting to embrace the Lover but distracted by concerns of propriety, pride and even inconvenience.

Why do we delay? Why do we abet in the distractions? Why do we lock our doors?

Between us what purports to be love often is not. We have been wounded by false love. How can we distinguish false from true, unreal - or unready - from profoundly real?

I slept but my heart was awake. Listen! My lover is knocking: "Open to me, my sister, my darling, my dove, my flawless one. My head is drenched with dew, my hair with the dampness of the night." (Song of Songs 5:2)

The Beloved continues.

Others sleep. The Beloved yearns. Her heart reaches out.

The Lover stirs. He glistens. He acts and seeks entry.

"My head is drenched" fits the poetic form. The Hebrew is ro'she male' meaning the highest point or the culmination achieved, fulfilled, completed.

Passive and the active are joined and each made whole.

I have come into my garden, my sister, my bride; I have gathered my myrrh with my spice. I have eaten my honeycomb and my honey; I have drunk my wine and my milk. Eat, O friends, and drink; drink your fill, O lovers. (Song of Songs 5:1-2)

The Lover accepts the Beloved's invitation and partakes of the garden.

Above the translator has friends encouraging the loving couple.

Ariel and Chana Bloch have the Lover encouraging friends to, "Feast, friends, and drink until you are drunk on love."

The Hebrew is shakar. Serious inebriation is the clear meaning in other scripture.

In drunkeness we lose our sense of time, place, and self. We lose ourselves in loving.

Above is from the Rothschild Canticle. The Beloved reclines on a bed, resting her head on one hand. Sprigs of vine grow from her body which three women are harvesting. In the lower register, Christ draws the Sponsa into the winde cellar with his right hand and offers a chalice of wine with his left.

Awake, north wind, and come, south wind! Blow on my garden, that its fragrance may spread abroad. Let my lover come into his garden and taste its choice fruits. (Song of Songs 4:16)

The Beloved responds.

The Lover had compared the Beloved to a locked garden. The Beloved invites - even commands - the Lover within.

A sexual meaning is easy, but the meaning in this consumation is not so clear.

St. John of the Cross offers his own metaphor within the metaphor.

In the inner wine cellar
I drank of my Beloved, and, when I went abroad
through all this valley
I no longer knew anything,
and lost the herd that I was following.

There he gave me his breast;
there he taught me a sweet and living knowledge;
and I gave myself to him,
keeping nothing back;
there I promised to be his bride.

Now I occupy my soul
and all my energy in his service;
I no longer tend the herd,
nor have I any other work
now that my every act is love.

From the Cantico Espiritual (Spiritual Canticle) by St. John of the Cross

Your plants are an orchard of pomegranates with choice fruits, with henna and nard, nard and saffron, calamus and cinnamon, with every kind of incense tree, with myrrh and aloes and all the finest spices. You are a garden fountain, a well of flowing water streaming down from Lebanon. (Song of Songs 4:13-15)

Love is verdent, moist, and fertile. Love stimulates the senses with fragrance and color.

The Beloved nourishes the Lover or, at least, Love nourishes the Lover.

Another translation offers, "Your branches are an orchard..." The root word meaning to send out, stretch out, extend.

Love stretches us, causes us to grow, transforms us, and can - if we allow - restore us to the everflowing reality of original creation.

The Beloved is pardes: a Persian loan word for pleasure garden. The Greeks made the same word paradeisos. In love we return to paradise.

You are a garden locked up, my sister, my bride; you are a spring enclosed, a sealed fountain. (Song of Songs 4:12)

The Lover compares his Beloved to a garden locked: her beauty hidden, her care neglected, her potential lost - or at least dormant and waiting.

The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett has had a powerful influence on my life. It is a story of how death, despair, and neglect nearly destroyed a household's potential for beauty, joy, and love.

In the story this potential is reclaimed by being curious, clearing away what is dead, digging in the dirt, and waiting for the sun and rain to release what is hidden.

The Beloved is locked up - the Hebrew is na'al - which means to be enclosed or shut-up, but also means to be given sandals (which enclose the feet).

If we will recognize what has been shut-up, its opening may be precisely what is needed to begin our journey.

Above is from the Rothschild Canticles. The Sponsa (Beloved) is sealed within a fortress battling various demons. Two women in flanking towers hail Christ appearing out of the sun.

How delightful is your love, my sister, my bride! How much more pleasing is your love than wine, and the fragrance of your perfume than any spice! Your lips drop sweetness as the honeycomb, my bride; milk and honey are under your tongue. The fragrance of your garments is like that of Lebanon. (Song of Songs 4:10-11)

The character of this love is complicated by the Hebrew. The love referenced is dowd.

This is derived from a root meaning to boil. Certainly the lover's passion for the beloved seems hot.

But it is a masculine noun. The lover is evidently being self-referential. Perhaps even, "How delightful is your lover..."

The nature of this love is especially curious because in the previous chapter the beloved seeks "him whom my soul loves" using the Hebrew 'ahab.

'Ahab can encompass a breadth of emotions, but is often used for sexual love.

Why now does the lover speak of a love that scripture most often translates as avuncular?

What is the difference? What are we to discern?

You have stolen my heart, my sister, my bride; you have stolen my heart with one glance of your eyes, with one jewel of your necklace. (Song of Songs 4:9)

Another translation offers, "you have ravished my heart." Another, "you have made my heart beat faster." Yet another, "you have emboldened me."

The Hebrew is labab. Depending on context it is a verb for becoming intelligent, becoming brave, or making cakes.

As the cake-making implies it is a sort of kneading. Love is a blending of diverse ingredients until something beyond the original elements can emerge.

Come with me from Lebanon, my bride, come with me from Lebanon. Descend from the crest of Amana, from the top of Senir, the summit of Hermon, from the lions' dens and the mountain haunts of the leopards. (Song of Songs 4:8)

An older translation offers "Come thee with me to Lebanon." I prefer this sense of the Lover inviting the Beloved to travel together to place far-away and exotic.

Together let us climb the summits. Together let us sleep with lions. Together let us walk among the leopards.

Love is not safe. To love and be loved is to be vulnerable. To love and be loved is to be challenged, to take risks, and to fully engage the world.

Above is from the Rothschild Canticles. In the upper half of the image, a naked woman dances before a unicorn. To the left, a woman, fully clothed and seated with a bucket by her side, gestures to her companion. In the lower register, a seated woman embraces the unicorn while a man stabs it with a spear. A mounted rider wearing a crown rides into the scene from the right. In seeking to capture the unicorn we too often destroy it. For a larger image click above.

Until the day breaks and the shadows flee, I will go to the mountain of myrrh and to the hill of incense. All beautiful you are, my darling; there is no flaw in you. (Song of Songs 4:6-7)

The Lover beholds his Beloved in the moonlight.

Where is the fragrant mountain? What is the perfumed hill?

Are these places or perhaps aspects of the Beloved?

We are creatures of sense: sight, hearing, touch, and scent.

Our senses can take us far without ever taking a step.

In his commentary on the first seven verses of the fourth chapter of the Song of Songs, Adam Clarke, an early 19th Century Biblical scholar, notes a similarity to the poetry of the early 13th Century Sanskrit poet Jayadeva, "Thy lips, O thou most beautiful among women, are a bandhujiva flower; the lustre of the madhuca beams upon thy cheek; thine eye outshines the blue lotos; thy nose is a bud of the tila; the cunda blossom yields to thy teeth. Surely thou descendedst from heaven, O slender damsel! attended by a company of youthful goddesses; and all their beauties are collected in thee... Thy two breasts, ask those two round hillocks which receive pure dew drops from the garland playing on thy neck, and the buds on whose tops start aloft with the thought of thy beloved." Below is an illustration of the lovers from the Gita Govinda by Jayadeva.

Your neck is like the tower of David, built with elegance; on it hang a thousand shields, all of them shields of warriors. Your two breasts are like two fawns, like twin fawns of a gazelle that browse among the lilies. (Song of Songs 4:4-5)

The Lover continues with his - sometimes strange - similes.

Her long neck is admired. The translator admits that elegance is only a guess. The Hebrew is talpiyah. Another translator chose "rows of stone" and added meaning is doubtful. This is the only appearance of the word in scripture.

Her breasts are young and delicate as fawns grazing among the lilies or shoshannim which is derived from suws meaning to exult and rejoice.

Love cannot be love without vulnerability. No matter how strong our towers, it is in yielding to the other that we find joy.

Which is Lover and which is Beloved is - or can be - lost as each puts aside the strong shield, cultivated elegance, and carefully sculpted mask we have crafted in defense.

In Love the two are left as twin fawns exulting in shared fragility.

Your teeth are like a flock of sheep just shorn, coming up from the washing. Each has its twin; not one of them is alone. Your lips are like a scarlet ribbon; your mouth is lovely. Your temples behind your veil are like the halves of a pomegranate (Songs of Songs 4: 2-3)

The Lover continues his praise: the Beloved has all her teeth.

This is an aspect of beauty I might not have emphasized.

Scarlet lips, blushing skin... these remain remarkable.

I am fortunate to live in an age and place where a full set of teeth is expected.

What other good fortune do I neglect?

Above is from the Rothschild Canticles. Christ is seated atop a tower-shaped fountain with three gargoyle shaped spouts from which water with the faces of the blessed issues forth. Behind Christ and the fons vitae is a mountain with five trees.

How beautiful you are, my darling! Oh, how beautiful! Your eyes behind your veil are doves. Your hair is like a flock of goats descending from Mount Gilead. (Song of Songs 4:1)

The Lover responds with a cascade of praise.

Eyes that gently and intently gather or suddenly rise as one and dance in the sky.

Curls of brown, gold, tan, and flax tumbling down the mountain side glistening at sundown.

The Hebrew for dove and for wine are each derived from a word meaning to effervesce.

Goat - the Hebrew is 'ez - is derived from 'azaz meaning to be strong.

A simile asserts similiarity where most would perceive only essential differences.

The purpose, according to Samuel Johnson, is to "illustrate and ennoble the subject."

This is certainly the purpose of a Lover.

Come out, you daughters of Zion, and look at King Solomon wearing the crown, the crown with which his mother crowned him on the day of his wedding, the day his heart rejoiced. (Song of Songs 3:11)

Crowns are used across cultures to communicate authority and position.

In the Judeo-Christian tradition - and some others - the crown is also a symbol of God's blessing.

At their wedding a Jewish bride and groom would wear a garland reflecting their role in the celebration and the blessing they had received.

The premise is one of authority derived from God's grace and blessing.

The blessing is acknowledged, its responsibility accepted, and the role is publicly communicated in the crown.

We are more apt to pursue power than receive blessing, and this has long been the way of the world.

But in the ways of Love we would be well-served to be more attentive to blessings offered.

King Solomon made for himself the carriage; he made it of wood from Lebanon. Its posts he made of silver, its base of gold. Its seat was upholstered with purple, its interior lovingly inlaid by [a] the daughters of Jerusalem. (Song of Songs 3:9-10)

A beautiful and - more to the point - impressive conveyance.

But to where is it to convey him? What is the King's destination?

The Beloved does not ask these questions. But she is suitably impressed by the carriage.

Is she but another conveyance? Is she but another way to impress?

How often is this what we seek from our Lover? Our Beloved? Even our God?

Above is from the Rothschild Canticles. The vignette in the center represents Adam instructing King Solomon. Click on the image for a larger version.

Who is this coming up from the desert like a column of smoke, perfumed with myrrh and incense made from all the spices of the merchant? Look! It is Solomon's carriage, escorted by sixty warriors, the noblest of Israel, all of them wearing the sword, all experienced in battle, each with his sword at his side, prepared for the terrors of the night. (Song of Songs 3:6-8)

We may look for love through the lens of power.

How will my lover protect me? How will my lover advance me?

What sort of power does my lover project? What does my lover tell others of me?

This sort of love is a king's carriage, it can carry the lovers far.

But this love is mostly a conveyance. To where?

Daughters of Jerusalem, I charge you by the gazelles and by the does of the field: Do not arouse or awaken love until it so desires. (Song of Songs 3:5)

The Beloved sings: do not force love.

As with the wild of the forest, love will come in its time.

As with the morning deer, love will appear suddenly.

And just as suddenly love may depart.

Wait until love chooses and then rejoice in the pleasures of love.

Scarcely had I passed them when I found the one my heart loves. I held him and would not let him go till I had brought him to my mother's house, to the room of the one who conceived me. (Song of Songs 3:4)

Love can transform our origins.

From our mother's womb we emerge with predispositions, both weakness and strength.

Our predispostions include the ability to reason and the power to choose.

In our mother's house we learn many lessons, both good and bad.

The lessons may constrain or enflame our predispositions, but we retain both reason and choice.

If we will hold tight, the transcendent power of Love can enrich our reasoning and choosing.

We can choose to make room for Love's fullness.

Above is from the Rothschild Canticles. Rather than hold tight, we often flee from Love. Description of the image: In the upper half, Christ descends from the clouds of Heaven, gesturing to a half naked Sponsa who throws her hands into the air. In the lower half, Christ holds a pruning knife and makes a gesture of reproach towards the fully naked Sponsa raises her arms in surprise and despair.

All night long on my bed I looked for the one my heart loves; I looked for him but did not find him. I will get up now and go about the city, through its streets and squares; I will search for the one my heart loves. So I looked for him but did not find him. The watchmen found me as they made their rounds in the city. "Have you seen the one my heart loves?" (Song of Songs 3: 1-3)

I expect most have experienced a night such as this, especially when we were young and love was new.

The absence of the other awakes and compels us. We feel torn in two by our separation. It is too painful and we run into the night seeking him or her.

It was - for me - always at night. In the quiet darkness I would go to the other, wondering and worried by the strength of my emotion.

There are those for whom this emotion defines love, even when no longer young. I question their maturity and intention.

But I also question a so-called love that is no longer seeking, suppresses emotion, and fails to ask, "Have you seen the one my heart loves?"

My lover is mine and I am his; he browses among the lilies. Until the day breaks and the shadows flee, turn, my lover, and be like a gazelle or like a young stag on the rugged hills. (Song of Songs 2:16-17)

The Beloved sings. Once again she compares her Lover to a gazelle or young stag.

My wife and I live next to a mountain meadow. In early morning deer - usually does and an occasional faun - will appear sliding gracefully through the grass.

When they emerge from the woods or over the hill we give our full attention. Even after twenty years here their appearance compels.

A few weeks ago - for the first time we can recall - a young stag approached. It was cautious and quickly continued on its way.

The appearance of the deer is unpredictable. The stag was a real surprise. This is much of what captures our attention and appreciation.

Yet when we encounter love - human or divine - we are so often tempted to domesticate it.

Catch for us the foxes, the little foxes that ruin the vineyards, our vineyards that are in bloom. (Song of Songs 2: 15)

The Lover asks his "dove" to catch the "little foxes."

In the 16th Century St. John of the Cross wrote a poem that often parallels the Song of Songs. The poem's purpose is to explore how the soul finds its way to reunion with God.

In John's commentary on his poem he explains, "As foxes pretend to be asleep when they are out to catch their prey, so all our appetites and sensory powers are tranquil and asleep until these flowers of virtues rise and blossom in the soul in an exercise of love. At that moment, then, it seems that the sensual flowers of the appetites and sense powers awaken and arise in the sensory part of the soul in an effort to contradict the spirit and to reign."

We can be contradictory creatures. Just as love draws us to self-giving - at that same and very moment - we may also experience a compulsion for self-assertion.

Above is from the Rothschild Canticles. In the upper half, a youth center points to foxes running wild in the garden while addressing two ladies standing at the entrance of a church. In the lower half, the two ladies catch the foxes and a third fox runs between them with fruit in its mouth.

My dove in the clefts of the rock, in the hiding places on the mountainside, show me your face,let me hear your voice; for your voice is sweet, and your face is lovely. (Song of Songs 2:14)

The Lover responds.

If we seek a spiritual reading, the Lover - our God - speaks of us much as we often speak of God.

Where are you hiding? Show me your face. Let me hear your voice.

Might the absence we sometimes feel be from our own hiding?

We cannot successfully hide from God. But we can try to hide even while in plain sight.

Similarly we seek to conceal much from our earthly lovers, seldom with more success.

Love - true love - requires being open, which requires courage.

My lover spoke and said to me, "Arise, my darling, my beautiful one, and come with me. See! The winter is past; the rains are over and gone. Flowers appear on the earth; the season of singing has come, the cooing of doves is heard in our land. The fig tree forms its early fruit; the blossoming vines spread their fragrance. Arise, come, my darling; my beautiful one, come with me." (Song of Songs 2:10-13)

The Beloved continues.

Winter - the Hebrew is cethav - is ended. Cethav was the season of hiding. The cold and rain took us inside.

The Lover invites us to enjoy the exterior world in all is sights, scents, and sound.

It is a fertile world. The vines blossom with the promise of grapes. From the grapes we might make wine and raisins.

Of the wine and raisins we may partake in the winters yet to come as the seasons turn in their cycle.

But today the Lover offers, "come with me" into the warmth and delight of this bright day.

His left arm is under my head, and his right arm embraces me. Daughters of Jerusalem, I charge you by the gazelles and by the does of the field: Do not arouse or awaken love until it so desires. Listen! My lover! Look! Here he comes, leaping across the mountains, bounding over the hills. My lover is like a gazelle or a young stag. Look! There he stands behind our wall, gazing through the windows, peering through the lattice. (Song of Songs 2:6-9)

The Beloved continues.

Do not be aroused. Do not open your eyes to love.

Until love is a source of delight and pleasure; until love bends down to you.

Too often what we call love is anxiety, anguish, and disappointment

Because we have tried to claim what cannot be claimed.

Love is a wild thing. Love will come in its own time.

Above is from the Rothschild Canticles. Click on the image for a larger view. In the top register, Christ reaches through a window towards the Sponsa who sits indoors. In the second register, Christ leads the Sponsa out of the building towards an area with a lattice window. In the bottom register, Christ and the Sponsa pick fruits and flowers in a garden.

Like an apple tree among the trees of the forest is my lover among the young men. I delight to sit in his shade, and his fruit is sweet to my taste. He has taken me to the banquet hall, and his banner over me is love. Strengthen me with raisins, refresh me with apples, for I am faint with love. (Song of Songs 3: 3-5)

The Beloved sings of her Lover.

She is ecstatic. She is outside herself. She is transfixed by her Lover.

In John Dryden's final tragedy the hero, Cleomenes, encounters his lost Beloved and pronounces,

Thus let me grow again to thee,
Too close for fate to sever!
Or let death find me in these dear, dear arms;
And, looking on thee, spare my better part,
And take me willing hence.

To which his mother responds, "What! are you dreaming, son, with eyes cast upwards, Like a mad prophet in an ecstasy?"

The source of ecstacy - human or divine - can be difficult to know.

I am a rose of Sharon, a lily of the valleys. Like a lily among thorns is my darling among the maidens. (Song of Songs 2: 1-2)

The Beloved speaks, the Lover responds.

The translation rose may mislead us. We think of the rose as a majestic flower.

This rose of Sharon was probably a crocus.

I am, the Beloved says, a small and insignificant thing.

The Lover does not protest, but he does redirect.

Whether it is false modesty or truly felt modesty, the Lover offers a clarification of the Beloved's value.

To listen, to respond honestly, to confirm value... this is loving.

How beautiful you are, my darling! Oh, how beautiful! Your eyes are doves. How handsome you are, my lover! Oh, how charming! And our bed is verdant. The beams of our house are cedars; our rafters are firs. (Song of Songs 1: 15-17)

The Lover and Beloved exchange sweet nothings.

They are delighted with each other and with their situation.

They are in a garden, reclining together on the grass, in the shade of a cedar.

It is in the other - not in ourselves - that we find fulfillment.

This is a recurring surprise: in losing ourselves we find.

Above Christ and the Sponda enter the garden from the Rothschild Canticles. Please click on the graphic to see a larger version.

While the king was at his table, my perfume spread its fragrance. My lover is to me a sachet of myrrh resting between my breasts. My lover is to me a cluster of henna blossoms from the vineyards of En Gedi. (Song of Songs 1:12-14)

The Beloved responds to the Lover.

The word translated as perfume is actually the proper name for spikenard or nard. In the gospels of Mark and John a woman, perhaps Mary Magdalene, anoints Jesus with this perfume.

Myrrh is another perfume, often used in burial. According to Matthew it was a gift from the East at the birth of Jesus.

Rather than henna, many translations refer to camphor blossoms, but we are very uncertain of the specific flora referenced in scripture.

Whatever the source, the Lover and Beloved encounter one another aromatically, sensually, erotically.

The Lover and Beloved attend to one another with all their senses, fully engaged in the moment and one another.

I liken you, my darling, to a mare harnessed to one of the chariots of Pharaoh. Your cheeks are beautiful with earrings, your neck with strings of jewels. We will make you earrings of gold, studded with silver. (Song of Songs 1: 9-11)

The Lover joins the song.

The lover perceives bridled energy and strength.

Another translation offers, "like My mare among the chariots of Pharaoh." Does the lover also perceive some fear?

In either case the mare is possessed, adorned, and admired.

I resist being possessed.

Tell me, you whom I love, where you graze your flock and where you rest your sheep at midday. Why should I be like a veiled woman beside the flocks of your friends? If you do not know, most beautiful of women, follow the tracks of the sheep and graze your young goats by the tents of the shepherds. (Song of Songs 1:7-8)

The Dark Lady asks her friends where their shepherds rest at mid-day.

It is unanswerable. None can know where the sheep and shepherds might be on any particular day. She is told to follow the tracks.

The reference to being as a veiled woman - or rather to be unveiled - is especially enigmatic. The Hebrew 'atah appears seventeen times in scripture. Only here is it translated as veiled.

The more common translation is to be wrapped or covered. In Psalm 104 we read, "Covering yourself with light as with a cloak, Stretching out heaven like a tent curtain."

In Isaiah we read, "The Lord is about to hurl you headlong, O man. And he is about to grasp you firmly and roll you tightly like a ball." (Isaiah 22: 17) 'Atah is "grasp you firmly."

The Beloved seeks to be unveiled, uncovered, unencumbered not only with her friends but even with the servants of her friends.

Above in the center is the Crucified Christ with a wise Virgin climbing up the Cross and the Virgin and Child at the foot of the Cross. On the left, the Child Christ passes a wreath to one of the three Wise Virgins who hold lamps. In the upper left, a Wise Virgin is helped up to Heaven by a figure of Christ leaning down from the clouds. On the right, the Foolish Virgins hold their lamps upside down and fall into the mouth of Hell. From the Rothschild Canticles (Beinecke Rare Book and Manuscript Library, Yale University).

How right they are to adore you! Dark am I, yet lovely, O daughters of Jerusalem, dark like the tents of Kedar, like the tent curtains of Solomon. Do not stare at me because I am dark, because I am darkened by the sun. My mother's sons were angry with me and made me take care of the vineyards; my own vineyard I have neglected. (Song of Songs 1:5-6)

The Beloved responds to her friends. The tents of Kedar, a Bedouin federation in Northwest Arabia, were made of black goat hair, very dark indeed. According to Psalm 120 "to dwell in the tents of Kedar" was to be war-like and separated from God.

The Dark Lady perceives herself as an outsider. She is embarrassed by her difference. But she is also aware of - proud of - her beauty.

In Sonnet 132 Shakespeare seems to seek the pity of his Dark Lady:

As those two mourning eyes become thy face:
O, let it then as well beseem thy heart
To mourn for me, since mourning doth thee grace,
And suit thy pity like in every part.
Then will I swear beauty herself is black
And all they foul that thy complexion lack.

I approach my Lover aware of my many flaws, perhaps preoccupied with my failures. But even in critique, apology, self-pity, and apprehension I assert my loveliness, my own claim to be loved.

Listen to Dark Am I Yet Lovely by Sinead O'Connor on YouTube.

We rejoice and delight in you, we will praise your love more than wine. (Song of Songs 1:4)

There are friends with the beloved - daughters of Jerusalem - who occasionally join in the song. Here they encourage the lovers.

This love is דֶיךָ or dowd. In every other Hebrew scripture - but one - it is translated as uncle. In the Song of Songs it is rendered as love this one time and as beloved every other time. Once in Proverbs it is also used for love: "Come, let us drink our fill of love until morning; Let us delight ourselves with caresses." (Proverbs 7:18)

Dowd is derived from a word meaning to boil. This is a very hot love.

Solomon's Song of Songs.

Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth— for your love is more delightful than wine. Pleasing is the fragrance of your perfumes; your name is like perfume poured out. No wonder the maidens love you! Take me away with you—let us hurry! Let the king bring me into his chambers. (Song of Songs 1-3)

The Beloved addresses her Lover. Is this a courtly love song or a spiritual allegory or both?

Am I the Lover of the woman or am I the Beloved of God or both?

Is the Lover's kiss spiritual or sensual or both?

Bernard of Clairvaux offered, "O happy kiss, and wonder of amazing self-humbling which is not a mere meeting of lips, but the union of God with man. The touching of lips signifies the bringing together of souls. But this conjoining of natures unites the human with the divine and makes peace between earth and heaven. For he himself is our peace, who made the two one."

Above is from the Rothschild Canticles.