It is rather that faith will sometimes gain what prayer hardly dares ask.

 

St. Bernard characterizes one who has reached the highest step to humility, and in contrast one who has abandoned humility. “The just man who has climbed all the steps of humility runs on to life with a ready heart and with the ease of good habit; the evil man who has dropped down to the bottom is ruled by evil habit, and, unchecked by fear he runs boldly on to death. … hurried, unresisting, by the downward pull of cupidity.”

He then intimates that prayer may not help such a one by quoting the first letter of John.

“If anyone sees his brother sinning, if the sin is not deadly, he should pray to God, and he will give him life. This is only for those whose sin is not deadly. There is such a thing as deadly sin, about which I do not say that you should pray.” 1 Jn 5:16

Recognizing the apparent lack of hope in John’s statement St. Bernard feels the need to explain.

“What then, O Blessed Apostle, is he to despair?"

"'I can give you an example of one who believed and hoped even when the case seemed to be beyond prayer. ‘Lord,’ she said, ‘If you had been there my brother would have not died.’ She must have had faith, a strong faith …. ‘But even now I know that whatever you ask from God he will give to you.”’

Citing this example of Martha’s deep faith, St Bernard makes this point, “It is rather that faith will sometimes gain what prayer hardly dares ask.”

He continues: “We are praying, praying all the better when we voice no prayer. We trust all the more strongly when we seem to doubt. We show our faith, we show our love; and he who needs no telling knows what we desire.”

Stepwise Way to Self Improvement

 42 Practical Ways to Start Working on Self-Improvement

5 Steps to Self-Improvement: Become a Better You

10 Vital Steps Toward Personal Growth And Development

80+ Self Improvement Tips That Will Change Your Life

Oh, how we like to have it all laid out for us. In order to (insert objective here) step one is ....

This stepwise means to attain a goal is nothing new. St. Bernard uses the method frequently.

The following is from his short book, The Steps of Humility & Pride.*

p. 34.6

There are three degrees in the perception of truth…. We must look for truth in ourselves: in our neighbors; in itself. We look for truth in ourselves when we judge ourselves;[50] in our neighbors when we have sympathy for their sufferings;[51] in itself when we contemplate it with a clean heart.[52]

p.47.19

These are the three steps of truth. We climb to the first through the toil of humility, to the second by a deep feeling of compassion, and to the third by the ecstasy of contemplation. On the first step we experience the severity of truth, on the second its tenderness, on the third its purity. Reason brings us to the first as we judge ourselves; compassion brings us to the second when we have mercy on others; on the third the purity of truth sweeps us up to the sight of things invisible.

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[50] 1 Cor 11:31   [51] 1 Cor 12:26   [52] Mt 5:7-8

*THE STEPS OF HUMILITY AND PRIDE, CISTERTIAN PUBLICATIONS INC., 1973

“The Steps of Humility and Pride” Bernard of Clairvaux

 

The text I've shown in bold below is my emphasis and it describes one of the reasons why I take such gratification in reading the works of St. Bernard. The term "Black Monks" references the Order of St. Benedict, called such because of the color of their robes.

From “The Steps of Humility and Pride” Bernard of Clairvaux, ISBN 978-0-87907-115-8

Introduction, pp. 23-24

"The reason for this popularity is within the treatise itself. As we have seen, it is rich in humor; everyone can enjoy a bit of satire. It is perhaps the work of Bernard that is easiest to read. Again, every man can find himself within it. It stoops down to the lowest sinner. But it not only stoops down, it points him toward the most sublime heights. There is hope for all.

Its attractiveness for many though, most fundamentally, lies in the fact that the author truly exemplifies what he teaches and with extraordinary literary skill conveys this effectively to the reader. The reader senses that Bernard has looked deeply into himself, knows himself and approaches the reader, his fellow man, with deep understanding and true compassion. The young Bernard has already come to love all men and in the sublime vision of man which he has seen in God he has a deeper respect and a greater appreciation for the greatness of each than most men have for themselves. As Bernard meets each on the rung of misery and pride on which he is presently lodged he does not fail to assure the poor wretch that he is not alone and that he has every reason to hope for great things. Every degree of pride has its corresponding degree of humility. If Bernard's satire is at times a bit stinging, and here we perhaps perceive some of the yet un-mellowed zeal of youth, there is such good humor in it that we can enjoy it, just as the Black Monks of his time so enjoyed the Apologia.  Although he may not naturally use Bernard's terminology every man finds within himself some of the experiences Bernard so graphically depicts. What is more, he quickly identifies his own deepest longings in Bernard's description of the goal: the freedom of truth, universal love, the experience of the Transcendent God. Bernard's straight forward assurance, his calm witness that God really cares, is personally involved in man's strivings and fulfillment is like a cool mountain breeze wafted across a placid lake into a city of feverish activity. It is immensely refreshing and offers one life and hope; it lifts eyes to the mountains and draws one out beyond the hustle to serene heights where he can perceive deeper meanings and experience true hope. Bernard very effectively communicates to his reader the invitation to glory in his infirmities for therein lies true strength and the hope of unending glory, meaning, fulfillment.

Enough has been said by way of introduction. Let the reader now proceed to the text and enjoy it to the full. For it offers him not only passing enjoyment, but, if he would have it, a way to a fuller—the fullest possible life and happiness."

M. Basil Pennington ocso

St Joseph's Abbey

Spencer, Massachusetts

 

The Shepherd left the rest and came to earth to find her ... he found her, he did not lead her, but carried her back!

 

From the previous post:

“ …we cannot deny his providence towards the rest of his creatures; but the Bride claims his attention for herself.”

St. Bernard continues:

3. It is obvious that what the Apostle says about oxen[1] has no reference to the Bride; he who loves her and gave himself for her[2] must needs care for her.[3] Is she not that lost sheep[4] whose care came before even that of the heavenly flock?[5] The Shepherd left the rest and came to earth to find her. He sought her diligently, and when he found her[6]he did not lead her, but carried her back! Then on her account he called the angels together and celebrated a new and joyful festival with her. How then can it be said that he will not care for her,[7]when he deigned to carry her on his shoulders? She is not mistaken,[8]then, when she says, 'The Lord takes thought for me',[9]nor is she deceived when she says, 'The Lord will fulfill his purpose for me'[10] or when she says anything else which shows God's love for her. Thus it is she speaks of the Lord of Hosts as her beloved, and glories[11] that he who judges all things in tranquility[12]cares for her. Why should she not glory? She has heard him sing to her, ’Can a woman forget her child, and not have compassion on him? And even if she does forget him, yet I will not forget you.'[13] Again, 'The eyes of the Lord are upon the righteous.'[14] Now what is the bride but the congregation of the righteous? What is she but the generation of those who seek the face of the Bridegroom?[15] It cannot be that he should incline to her, and she not inclined to him. Therefore she says, 'He inclines to me and I to him. He inclines to me because he is good and gracious;[16] I incline to him because I am not ungrateful. He gives me grace from his graciousness;[17] I give him gratitude for grace. He has a care for my deliverance and my salvation; I for his honor and the fulfillment of his will. He has a care for me, and for no other, for I am his only dove;[18] I have a care for him and for no other;[19] do not hear the voice of others, nor do I listen to those who say "Look, here is Christ" or "look, here he is!"[20] It is the Church who speaks.

CISTERCIAN FATHERS SERIES: NUMBER FORTY - BERNARD OF CLAIRVAUX – ON THE SONG OF SONGS IV - Sermon 68.3

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[1] 1 Cor 9:9  [2] Gal 1:4  [3] Lk 10:35  [4] Mt 18:12  [5] 1 Pet2:23  [6] Lk 15:5  [7] Lk 10:35  

[8] Heb 2:11  [9] Ps 40:18  [10] Ps 138:8  [11] Wis 12:18  [12] 1 Cor 2:15  [13] Is 49:15  

[14]  Ps 34:16  [15] Ps 24:6  [16] Jl 2:13  [17] Jn 1:16  [18] Sg 6:8  [19] Jn 10:15     [20] Mk13:21

 

Of the Fig Tree and of the Vines

Continuing from the post of January 20:

“5. Perhaps a Jew will complain that I have gone to access in insulting him…. But let him read Isaiah and he will hear something even less flattering: 'The ox knows its owner, and the ass it's master’s crib; but Israel does not know me, my people does not understand.' (Is 1:3) … Yet the prophet did not speak here in his own person but in that of God, who proclaims by his very works that he is God: 'even though you do not believe me’, he said, ‘believe the works.'; ‘and if I am not doing the works of my Father, then do not believe me.' (Jn 10:38) Even this did not wake them up to understanding. Neither the expulsion of devils nor the obedience of the elements nor the raising of the dead could banish from them this… stupidity. Out of this blindness no less monstrous than miserable they rushed into that horrifying and incredibly crude crime of laying sacrilegious hands on the majestic Lord. From that moment it could be said that the fig tree had put forth its green figs, for the institutions of the Jewish law were drawing to a close, so that, in accord with the old prophecy, as the new was coming on the old would be cleared away. (Lev 26:10)”

Now St. Bernard turns his attention to the phrase in Song 2:13 that mentions the vines.

Song 2:13 – “The fig tree puts forth its figs and the vines are in blossom; they give forth fragrance. Arise, my love, my fair one and come away.”

“II.6. … The vines in flower yield their sweet perfume … this perfume drives away snakes. They say that when vines are flowering every poisonous reptile leaves the place …. I want our novices to take note of this … reflecting on the spirit they have received, whose first fruits the devils cannot tolerate. If initial fervor can achieve this what will finished perfection do? … ‘The vines in flower yield their sweet perfume.’ This is how it was in the beginning: a new life ensued from the preaching, new grace for those who believed; (Rom 6:4) they lived virtuously among the pagans (1 Pet 2:12) and bore the good perfume of Christ (2 Cor 2:15) wherever they went. Good perfume means good witness. It comes from right behavior as perfume comes from the flower. And since in the early days of the infant church faithful souls, like so many spiritual vines, seemed laden with this kind of flower and perfume, being well thought of even by outsiders, (1 Tim 3:7) I think it not unfitting to apply this phrase to them. To what end? That those who had not believed might find it a challenge, and reflecting on the believer’s upright conduct, would themselves glorify God, (1 Pet 2:12) and thus for them the perfume of life would lead to life. (2 Cor 2:16)”  

One of the challenges of Sermon 60 was that St. Bernard seems to have not completed the metaphor of the fig tree before going off on another line of thought. Perhaps he recognized this and so in section III.9 he ties these two metaphors together. He must have felt the same confusion I experienced when I attempted to condense this sermon to its essential points.

“III.9 … I say then that by the grace of God which is in us (Rom 12:3) we have both fig trees and vines in our midst. The fig trees are the gentle in character, the vines those aglow with the spirit. (Rom 12:11) Anyone who lives among us in harmony with the community, who not only mingles with his brothers without complaining, but with a very friendly attitude even makes himself available to all for any occasion of loving service, (Phil 2:15) why should I not very fittingly speak of him as a fig tree? If he first sprouts his green figs it is necessary that he shed them, for instance the fear of judgment that is driven out by perfect love, (1 Jn 4:18) and the bitterness of sinning which is sure to yield to sincere confession, the infusion of grace and an abundant outpouring of tears. There are other similar things too that like green figs precede sweet fruit, things you can reflect on by yourselves.”

From section III.10:

“Now those who are vines reveal themselves to us as more austere than amiable, they take action in an eager frame of mind, they are zealous for discipline, rigorous in correcting abuses, and thus aptly make their own the psalmist’s words: ‘Do I not hate those who hate you, O Lord, and loathe those who defy you?’ (Ps 139:21) and, ‘zeal for your house devours me.’ (Ps 69:10) The one [those like the fig tree] seems to me to excel in love of neighbor the other [those like the vines] in love of God.”

Regardless of this sense I feel of an insufficiently developed metaphor, Sermon 60 leaves the reader with a prayer worth remembering.

“But let us pause here under this vine and this fig tree (1 Kgs 4:25)* in the shade of God’s love and our neighbor’s. Both loves are mine when I love you, Lord Jesus, my neighbor because you are a man and showed mercy to me (Lk 10:36-37), and nevertheless you are God over all, blessed forever. Amen. (Rom 9:5)”

*The Vulgate contains the following verse which does not appear in chapter four of the NRSV translation of the Bible “And Juda, and Israel, dwelt without any fear, every one under his vine, and under his fig tree, from Dan to Bersabee, all the days of Solomon.” The NRSV ends chapter four of 1 Kings with verse 19. The Vulgate contains verses up to number 34.

 

Why Read St. Bernard

The post dated November 20, 2021 presented an excerpt from the introduction to volume 3 of St. Bernard's Sermons on the Song of Songs which gave good reason for reading St. Bernard's sermons.

On occasion I reconsider the reasons for my reading of St. Bernard and why I post some of his thoughts on this blog and even why I post on this blog at all. With very few followers it is obvious that my persistence in maintaining the blog is for my own edification. Ronald Rolheiser in his book "The Holy Longing" states the fundamental reason underlying all contemplation of the transcendent. "We are infinite beings in a finite world." As such we will always be just a little bit dissatisfied with what this world offers. I ascribe my persistent blogging then to a restlessness. St. Augustine describes this restlessness and the solution to its satisfaction in his Confessions. Enough name dropping.

St Bernard is really the only writer that I've read and studied in such a sustained manner. Through my  twenty odd posts since June of 2021 I've tried to distill the essence of his preaching on the Song of Songs. Now, I'm beginning to experience, in an unexpected way, the effects of presenting the posts . My feelings are the result of a sustained preoccupation with St. Bernard's religious and spiritual principles. By placing myself in his presence, so to speak, I am confronted with a frequent reminder of the meaning of charity and God as the essence of love. St. Bernard's exposition of the Christian Spirit is sometimes eloquent, sometimes condemnatory and frequently demands penance from himself and his monks. This traditional message is not popular in the culture of our times. However, St. Bernard conveys a profound faith in mankind's ability to experience God's love here on earth. Through a habitual focus on Christian charity we can prevent our relatively unimportant earthly concerns from consuming all our mental, and especially spiritual, energies.

I adjure you, Daughters of Jerusalem, by the gazelles and the does of the field. Do not awaken, or stir up love until it is ready. Song of Songs 2:7

 

I adjure you, Daughters of Jerusalem, by the gazelles and the does of the field. Do not awaken, or stir up love until it is ready. Song of Songs 2:7

From Volume 3-Sermon 3-6:

3. Well then, let me explain if I can what this sleep in which the bridegroom wishes his beloved to enjoy, from which he will not allow her to be wakened under any circumstances, except at her good pleasure …. It is a slumber which is vital and watchful, which enlightens the heart, drives away death, and communicates eternal life. For it is a genuine sleep that does not stupefy the mind but transports it. And – I say without any hesitation-it is a death, for the apostle Paul in praising people still living in the flesh spoke thus: ‘For you have died, and your life is hid with Christ in God.’ (Col 3:3)

4. It is not absurd for me to call the bride’s ecstasy a death, then, but one that snatches away not life but life's snares, so that one can say: 'we have escaped as a bird from the snare of the Fowlers'. (PS123: 7) in this life we move about surrounded by traps, but these cause no fear when the soul is drawn out of itself by a thought that is both powerful and holy, provided that it so separates itself and flies away from the mind that it transcends the normal manner and habit of thinking; for a net is spread in vain before the eyes of winged creatures. (Prov 1:17) Why dread wantonness where there is no awareness of life? For since the ecstatic soul is cut off from awareness of life though not from life itself, it must of necessity be cut off from the temptations of life. 'O that I had wings like a dove! I would fly away and be at rest.' (Ps 54:7) How I long often to be the victim of this death that I may escape the snares of death, (Ps 17:6) that I may not feel the deadening blandishments of a sensual life, that I may be steeled against evil desire, against the surge of cupidity, against the goads of anger and impatience, against the anguish of worry and the mysteries of care. Let me die the death of the just, (Num 23:10) that no injustice may ensnare or wickedness seduce me. How good the death that does not take away life but makes it better; good in that the body does not perish but the soul is exalted.

5. Men alone experienced this. But, if I may say so, let me die the death of Angels that, transcending the memory of things present, I may castoff not only the desire for what are corporal and inferior but even their images, that I may enjoy pure conversation with of those who bear the likeness of purity.

III. This kind of ecstasy, in my opinion, is alone or principally called contemplation. Not to be gripped during life by material desires is a mark of human virtue; but to gaze without the use of bodily likenesses is the sign of angelic purity. Each, however, is a divine gift, each is a going out of oneself, each a transcending the self, but in one, one goes much farther than in the other. Happy the man who can say: 'See, I have escaped far away, and found a refuge in the wilderness'. (Ps 54:8)

CISTERCIAN FATHERS SERIES: NUMBER THIRTY-ONE - BERNARD OF CLAIRVAUX – ON THE SONG OF SONGS III

Two Kinds of humility - While the king was upon his couch, my spikenard gave forth its fragrance

 

"While the king was upon his couch, my spikenard gave forth its fragrance." Song 1:12 NRSV

Following this quote from the post of November 14, are quotes from Sermons, 42.6-7.

“You see then how great the evils from which a man delivers both himself and me when he responds with meekness on being corrected, submits respectfully, obeys modestly, and humbly admits his fault. To a man like this I shall in all things be a debtor, I shall minister to and serve him as a genuine lover of my Lord, for he is one who can truly say: "while the king was on his couch, my nard gave forth its fragrance.”

From the citing of this verse St. Bernard takes exegetical flight and expresses a theological reflection on the spiritual meaning he sees in this verse.

“How good the fragrance of humility that ascends from the valley of tears, that permeates all places within reach, and perfumes even the royal couch with its sweet delight.

The nard is an insignificant herb, said by those who specialize in the study of plants to be of a warm nature. Hence it seems to be fittingly taken in this place for the virtue of humility, but aglow with the warmth of holy love. I say this because there is a humility inspired and inflamed by charity, and a humility begotten in us by truth but devoid of warmth. This latter depends on our knowledge, the former on our affections. For if you sincerely examine your inward dispositions in the light of truth, and judge them unflatteringly for what they are, you will certainly be humiliated by the baseness that this true knowledge reveals to you, though you perhaps as yet cannot endure that, others too, should see this image so far it is truth that compels your humility, it is as yet untouched by the inpouring of love. But if you were so moved by a love of that truth which, like a radiant light, so wholesomely discovered to you the reality of your condition, you would certainly desire, as far as in you lies, that the opinions of others about you should correspond with what you know of yourself. I say, as far as in you lies, because it is often inexpedient to make known to others all that we know about ourselves, and we are forbidden by the very love of truth and the truth of love to attempt to reveal what would injure another. But if under the impulse of selflove you inwardly conceal the true judgment you have formed of yourself, who can doubt that you lack a love for truth, since you show preference for your own interest and reputation?

7. Convicted by the light of truth then, a man may judge himself of little worth, but you know this is far from the equivalent of a spontaneous association with the lowly that springs from the gift of love. Necessity compels the former, the latter is of free choice. "He emptied himself, taking the form of a servant, and so gave us the pattern of humility. He emptied himself, he humbled himself, not under constraint of an assessment of himself but inspired by love for us. Though he could appear abject and despicable in men's eyes, he could not judge himself to be so in reality, because he knew who he was. It was his will, not his judgment, that moved him to adopt a humble guise that he knew did not represent him; though not unaware that he was the highest he chose to be looked on as the least. And so we find him saying: ''Learn from me for I am gentle and humble in heart. "He said “in heart;" in the affection of the heart, which signifies the will, and a decision arising from the will excludes compulsion. You and I truly know that we deserve disgrace and contempt, that we deserve the worst treatment and the lowest rank, that we deserve punishment, even the whip; but not he. Yet he experienced all these things because he willed it; he was humble in heart, humble with that humility that springs from the heart's love, not that which is exacted by truthful reasoning.

CISTERCIAN FATHERS SERIES: NUMBER SEVEN - BERNARD OF CLAIRVAUX - Song of Songs II

Song of Songs - Sermon 42

 At the start of this sermon St. Bernard presents the mental processes all of us go through when faced with someone who is obviously on a wayward path. Should we try to correct their actions? Do I have the moral authority to correct someone? Is it my responsibility to point out the error of their ways? What happens if they get angry with me? Will I end up losing a friend?

 As for the moral authority, St.Bernard defends action.

"I am neither prophet nor apostle, but I dare to say that I fulfill the role both of prophet and apostle; and though far beneath them in merits I am caught up in similar cares. Even though it be to my great embarrassment, though it put me at serious risk, I am seated on the chair of Moses, to whose quality of life I do not lay claim and whose grace I do not experience. What then? That one must withhold respect for the chair because the man sitting there is unworthy?”

St. Bernard then goes on to discuss the possible consequences of correcting someone’s errant ways. Will his actions produce a penitential response? Will it produce a defensive response? Will it produce a hardened conviction, a rationalization, that the error was actually a good? Will it produce an anger toward you that ruptures a relationship? 

“Sometimes the anger is spiced with impudence, as when the correction is not only met with impatience, but the error impudently defended. … While refusing to be angry with the archer who shot him, he is angry with his physician!” 

Then St. Bernard expresses what many in this predicament say.

“For this reason I should sometimes prefer to remain silent and pretend I had not seen some wrong being done, rather than to bring about so great a calamity by a reprimand. 

Perhaps you will tell me that my good deed will redound to my welfare; that I have freed my own soul and am innocent of the blood of that man in speaking and warning him to turn away from his evil path that he might live. But though you give me countless reasons, they will not comfort me because my eyes rest on a son who is dying. It is as if by that reprimand I sought to achieve my own salvation rather than his. … How much more should I weep and lament for the eternal death of a son of mine even if I am conscious of no failure on my part, even though I have warned him? You see then how great the evils from which a man delivers both himself and me when he responds with meekness on being corrected, submits respectfully, obeys modestly, and humbly admits his fault. To a man like this I shall in all things be a debtor, I shall minister to and serve him as a genuine lover of my Lord….”

CISTERCIAN FATHERS SERIES: NUMBER SEVEN - BERNARD OF CLAIRVAUX - Song of Songs II