Word Craft

 I am a long time subscriber and for the past decade, at least, the recipient of an annual gift subscription to First Things, published by the Institute on Religion and Public Life. In the March issue I noticed the writing of Patricia Snow.

It is especially gratifying to find an author whose wordcraft concisely expresses what the author intends to convey. So, when I encounter an author who displays that talent I take notice. An example is the following quote from an article by Richard Neuhaus, First Things founding editor. The article speaks to the writings of Hans Urs von Balthasar.

“He went in for heavy-duty intellection that is sometimes ponderous and exhaustingly discursive, but always adorned with dazzling erudition and rewarding one's effort with scintillating insights of a frequently counterintuitive nature.” April 2006 issue of First Things

Patricia Snow’s essay relates an experience she had at her church, St. Mary’s in New Haven Connecticut. It is the church where she attended RCIA sessions. In her essay she describes St. Mary’s Church during one of the daily Masses she attended.

“… in St. Mary’s a soft natural light was continually in play, washing sequentially through the saturated membranes of the windows. Furthermore, everything was painted in St. Mary’s, saving the pews and the floor. The walls in those days were a drab yellow and the high pentagonal apse behind the altar was an English red, which in turn was figured over, like wallpaper, with a shimmering, gold-leaf pattern of fleur-de-lis. The tall pillars in the nave were the color of algae and the vaulted roof overhead was an azure canopy, fastened up with powder-blue filaments and gold medallions. Add to this the polychrome statues of saints – statues that, like the windows, were brought down within reach – and intricately painted and gilded bas-relief Stations of the Cross, and the colorful exuberance of the whole sounds almost too much on paper, yet it worked in the church, in the dim recesses around the altar especially, where the reds that were almost orange and the greens that were almost blue were at once resplendent and fugitive, overstating and vanishing, like the iridescent plumage of a tropical bird.” First Things, On The Threshhold, March 2022

" dazzling erudition" and “scintillating insights of a frequently counterintuitive nature”

“where the reds that were almost orange and the greens that were almost blue were at once resplendent and fugitive”

Neuhaus made me want to seek out in Balthasar those “scintillating insights”. Snow’s description of St. Mary’s Church makes me want to visit St. Mary’s to see those colors that “were at once resplendent and fugitive, overstating and vanishing”; fugitive colors, what inspiration!

Catch us the little foxes that spoil the vines, for our vines are in flower.” Sg 2:15

St. Bernard - El Greco

 God came as a man in order to redeem his people. Declared in Scripture, even by a Roman soldier, it is what makes Christianity so difficult for humanity to believe. It is a fact preached upon many times by the disciples and fathers of the Church. In Sermon 64 on the Song of Songs St. Bernard lends his eloquence to the message.

“Catch us the little foxes that spoil the vines, for our vines are in flower.” ^{Sg 2:15}

Focusing on the word “us” in this verse St. Bernard takes us on a flight of theological reflection.

“He who has deigned to unite himself with us does not look upon our advantage as something foreign to himself, for he orders the foxes to be caught, not for himself, but for us along with him. Notice that he says 'for us'. What gracious condescension! Do you not think that he is speaking as the father of the family, in that he keeps nothing for himself, but has everything in common with his wife and children and household? He who speaks is indeed God, yet it is not as God that he speaks, but as a Bridegroom.

'Catch us the foxes.' You see how he speaks, as though to equals – he who has no equal. He could've said 'me', but he preferred to say 'us', for he delights in companionship. What sweetness! What grace! What a mighty love! Can it be that the Highest of all is made one with all? Who has brought this about? Love has brought this about, without regard for its own dignity, strong in affection and efficacious in persuasion. What could be more violent? Love prevails even with God. What could be so nonviolent? It is love. What force is there, I ask, which advances so violently towards victory, yet is so unresisting to violence? For he emptied himself, so that you might know that it was the fullness of love which was out- poured ^{Phil 2: 7}, that his loftiness was laid low and that his unique nature made to be your fellow. With whom, O wonderful Bridegroom, have you such familiar friendship? 'Catch them for us,' he says. For whom, besides you? For the Church of the Gentiles? She is made up of mortals and sinners. What she is, we know; but who are you ^{Jn 1:19}, so devoted to the ethiopian ^{Num 12:1} woman, so eager a lover? … Are you not he who is the fairest of the children of men? ^{Ps 44:3, Wis 7:26} I have said too little. You are the brightness of eternal life, the splendor and image of the being of God, God over all, blessed forever. ^{Heb 1:3, Rom 9:5} Amen."  from Sermon 64.9-10

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

On the Passing of Our Son

To my friends and family, it is with much regret that we report that our son Robert Jr. has been called home to his maker. Bob was our first child and our first attempt at perfecting the parenting skills we inherited from our parents. No one can doubt what extreme pain and sorrow is experienced by a parent at such a loss. Yet, we are people of faith.

“Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.” It is in these words that those of us of faith find our consolation. St. Bernard of Clairvaux in a sermon on the Song of Songs expresses his convictions and his hopes on the death of his brother and fellow monk, Gerard. His sentiments echo mine and I am sure those of many of our friends and family as well.

I paraphrase and adapt his thoughts: Bob possessed a body that is both frail and burdensome and, freed from the body, he may fly to the embraces of Christ. Why has he been torn from us? We loved each other in life how can it be that death separates us? What a harvest of joys, what a profusion of blessing is yours Bob. You have the abiding presence of Christ. All that smacks of weakness you have cast away but not what pertains to love. And since love never comes to an end, you will not forget us forever. One can scarcely speak of him as dead! Was he not rather transplanted into life? By his death it is we who died not he, he has but gone to sleep in the Lord.

I have no wish to repudiate the decrees of God… Shall I find fault with his judgment because I wince from the pain? It is but human and necessary that we respond to our friends with feeling: that we be happy in their company, disappointed in their absence.… The reluctance to part and the yearning for each other when separated, indicate how meaningful their mutual love must be when they are together. We grieve for you Bob not for the sake of grieving, but because you have been separated from us… We experience the sufferings that are shared equally by lovers when compelled to remain apart.

… our weeping is not a sign of a lack of faith, it indicates the human condition. You hear the heavy note of sorrow in my words…. My song, O Lord, shall be of mercy and judgment. Let that mercy poured out by you on your servant Bob sing to you… I praise your goodness to him. You are righteous indeed, O Lord… You gave us Bob, you took him away and if his removal makes me sad I do not forget that he was given to us and offer thanks for our good fortune in having had him… What more shall I say? You entrusted Bob to us, you have claimed him back; you have but taken what was yours. Our tears prevent speaking further; impose a limit on them O Lord, bring them to an end. 

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.

 

The fig tree has put forth its green figs. (Song of Songs 2:13)

“The fig tree has put forth its green figs.” (Sg. 2:13) With this quote St. Bernard opens Sermon 60 on the Song of Songs. Now the fig tree has a peculiar reproductive process. There is an initial bud called a breba producing a crop relatively early in the year on the previous year's growth. These fruits are frequently small, acidic and inferior in texture. The second crop occurs later in the year on the current year's growth and these figs are edible. The fig tree does not flower; its flowers, male and female, are inside the fruit, enclosed by the outer shell and so never displays a flower before budding.

This process becomes the seed for a theological reflection critical of the nation of Israel before the coming of Christ.

“I do not think myself free to apply this passage to people in general, however: one person is distinctly referred to. For he did not speak of many trees …, but of one … meaning I think, the Jewish people. How often the Saviour uses this image in the Gospel! [Lk 13:6; Lk 21:29; Jn 1:48; Mk 11:13-14] … The fig tree is a good image, for though sprouting from the sound patriarchal root it never aimed to reach for the sky, never aimed at lifting itself from the ground, never responded to the root by putting out branches, by blooming to flower, by an abundance of fruit. O stunted twisted, knotty tree, how completely ill suited to you is your root. For the root is holy. (Rom 11:16) Does any thing worthy of it appear in your branches? .… Worthless seed, you have not brought these forth from that noble root. What it contains is of the Holy Spirit (Mt 1:20) and in every respect refined and sweet. Where then do these green figs come from? And really what does that nation have that is not crude? Neither their actions nor their inclinations nor their understanding; not even the rites with which they worship God. Their actions are summed up in strife, their whole orientation was to wealth, their understanding was darkened in literalism, they worshipped with the blood of sheep and cattle.”

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

Lest you begin to feel that St. Bernard is too hard on the Jewish people a reading of Matthew 23:29-36, in fact all of Mt 23, you will see Jesus equally critical and even condemnatory of his chosen people.

More on the fig tree as a symbol of the Jewish people in the next post. 

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