SERMON LII.
OF THAT ECSTASY WHICH IS CALLED CONTEMPLATION, IN WHICH THE BRIDEGROOM CAUSES THE HOLY SOUL TO ATTAIN PEACE AND REST, BEING EARNESTLY DESIROUS OF ITS BLESSEDNESS.
k I charge you, O ye daughters of Jerusalem, by the roes% and by the hinds of the field, that ye stir not up, nor wake my love till she please?— Cant, ii. 7.
IT is to the maidens that this prohibition is addressed. By this name, of daughters of Jerusalem, He calls those delicate and weak souls which are, as it were, womanly in affections and actions, but are, nevertheless, attached to the Bride, in the hope of attaining spiritual profit, and making their way to Jerusalem with her. These, then, He forbids to disturb the sleep of the Bride, or to presume to awaken her against her will. For her most sweet Spouse has, as we have before been told, laid His left hand under her head, and made her to rest and sleep. And now, as the text goes on to say, He, in His abounding kindness and condescension, makes Himself her guard, and watches over her, lest, being disquieted by the small but frequent wants of her maidens, she should be awakened. That is the literal sense of the text. But as for that contestation * by the roes and hinds of the field/ it seems to have no reasonable consequence in the literal sense; it is, therefore, to be explained entirely according to its spiritual meaning. However that may be, we may say here that it is good for us to behold for a link the goodness, the sweetness, the condescension of the Divine Nature. Kor that which thou, O man, hast ever experienced in human feelings, which is most tender and sweet, it is that which is here predicated to thee of the Heart of the Most High. And He who speaks of it thus is He who searches the deep things of God, and because He is the Spirit of God, cannot but know whatsoever is in Him; nor, since He is the Spirit of truth, can He speak any other thing than that which He has seen in Him.
2. [We must believe that] there are those belonging to our race who have been so happy as to merit to taste this joy, and so to ex perience in their own selves the effects of a mystery so sweet; for otherwise we should be wanting in faith in this Scripture before us, where the heavenly Bridegroom is plainly brought before us, as feeling a most earnest desire for the peace and rest of a certain soul, which was dear to Him, and so anxious as to hold that soul in His own arms, that the sweetness of its sleep might not be troubled by any care or disquiet. I cannot contain my joy to see that the Sovereign Majesty does not disdain to condescend to the weakness of our nature by entering into a relation to it so familiar and so sweet, and that the Supreme Godhead does not think it below its dignity to
THAT ECSTASY WHICH IS CALLED CONTEMPLATION
ally itself with the soul, even in its present state of exile, and to show for it the ardent affection of a loving Spouse. Thus, thus, it is in tieaven, I do not doubt, as I see it to be on earth; and that the soul will assuredly feel that which is described in the text; except that words are not capable of fully describing that which it will then be able to experience, though it is not now able. What, think you, shall the soul receive on high which even here below is honoured with such near association with God as to feel His Arms around her, to be sheltered in His Bosom, to be watched and guarded by His care, so that when sleeping she shall not be aroused by any until she awaken of her own accord?
3. Let us now, then, consider, and let me explain if I can, what is the nature of that sleep which the Bridegroom desires for His beloved (Ps. cxxvil 2), and from which He will not have her aroused, except at her own will, lest perhaps someone reading what an Apostle has written: Now it is high time to awake out of sleep (Rom. xiii. 11), or the prayer that the Psalmist makes to God to lighten his eyes lest he sleep the sleep of death (Ps. xiii. 3), should be* troubled by a misunderstanding of words, and be able to form no worthy idea of the slumber of the Bride which in this passage is referred to. Nor is this sleep at all similar to that other slumber of which the Lord speaks in the Gospel — namely, that of Lazarus: Our friend Lazarus sleepeih; but J go, that I may awake him out of sleep (John xi. 11). For this He said of the death of the body, though the disciples thought that He referred to an ordinary sleep. But this repose of the Bride is not the unconsciousness of the body which steeps the bodily senses in deep forgetfulness for the time, however peaceful that may be; nor yet that sleep, deeper and more to be feared, which steals away the life. Much more is it far removed from that other slumber which is the state of him who sleeps in death — that is to say, who perseveres irrevocably in sin which leads to death. This may, on the contrary, be called a sleep of life, and even a vigil; for it illuminates the inward sense — it banishes death, and contributes to everlasting life. Yet that is, in truth, a sleep which, though it does not steep the senses in forgetfulness, ravishes and transports them [into a higher sphere]. It is even a death (as I may say without hesitation), since the Apostle speaks thus, in order to praise certain persons while they were still living the life of the body: Ye are dead, and your life is hid with Christ in God (Col. iii. 3).
4. I may, then, without any absurdity, call the ecstasy of the Bride death; but it is a death which, far from depriving her of life, delivers her from the snares [which are dangerous to] life, so that she is able to say: Our soul is escaped even as a bird out of the snare of the fowlers (Ps. cxxiv. 7). For in this life we proceed in the midst of snares; and the soul is delivered from the fear of these whenever it is, so to speak, ravished out of itself by intense and holy thought, provided that it is separated from, and elevated above, itself to such a degree as to transcend its usual habit of thinking. For a net is spread in vain before the eyes of them that have wings (Prov. i. 1 7, Douay). Where there is no consciousness even of life, what fear is there of impurity? For when the soul is in that state it ceases, not, indeed, to have life, but to have any consciousness of its life, and therefore it does not feel any of the temptations of life. O that I had wings like a dove; for then would I fly away, and be at rest (Ps. lv. 6). Would that thus I might die often, so as to avoid the snares of death, to escape the deadly blandishments of a life of pleasure, to be insensible to carnal delights, to the passion of avarice, to the incitements of anger and impatience, to the troubles and disquiets of cares and anxieties! Let my soul die the death of the righteous, that no fraud may ensnare it, nor there be any satisfaction to it in evikloing. Good, indeed, and to be desired,, is that death which does not take away life, but only changes it into a better form, which does not strike down the body, but elevates the soul.
5. Yet this is but the death which belongs to men. May my soul die the death which, if I may so speak, belongs to angels; so that, departing from the remembrance of things present, and being divested not only of desire for, but also of the haunting ideas and images of, things corporeal and inferior, it may enter into pure relations with those in which is the image and likeness of purity. Of this nature, as I consider, is the ecstasy in which contemplation wholly or principally consists. For to be, while still living, delivered from the power of desires for things material is a degree of human virtue; but to be brought out of the sphere of material forms and ideas is a privilege of angelic purity. Yet each of these two is a Divine gift — each of them consists in coming out of yourself, in rising above yourself; but the one carries you only a little way, while the other carries you far indeed. Blessed is he who can say: Lo, I have fled far away, and abode in solitude (Ps. lv. 7). He was not content to go forth unless he could go far away, so as to obtain repose. Have you over-passed the pleasures of the flesh, so that you no longer obey its lusts, nor are subject to its allurements? Then you have made progress; you have separated yourself [from the world]; but you have not yet detached yourself entirely from it as long as you have not the power to banish, by the mere purity of your spirit, and to rise entirely out of the reach of, the inrushing and thronging crowd of material images and ideas. Do not, at the point which you have thus far attained, promise yourself rest of soul. You mistake if you think that the place of repose, the secret of solitude, the habitation of peace, the stillness of serene light, is to be found on this side of your earthly existence. But show me the soul who has attained that point of freedom of which I speak, who can justly say: Return unto thy rest, O my soul; for the Lord hath dealt bountifully with thee (Ps. cxvi. 7), and I will at once confess that he has found the rest desired. And this place is truly in a solitude, this dwelling is truly in the light, according to the prophet: a tabernacle for a shadow in the day-time from the heat, and for* place of refuge, and for a covert from storm and from rain (Is. iv. 6);
and of it holy David also says: In the time of trouble He shall hide me in His pavilion: in the secret of His tabernacle shall He hide me (Ps. xxvii. 5).
6. Regard this, then, as the solitude into which the Bride has withdrawn, and in which place of delight she sweetly rests in communion with her Spouse, by which we are to understand that she is rapt in ecstasy, from which she is not to be aroused by her maidens until she shall choose. But in what terms is that prohibition stated? They are not forbidden in the usual manner, and with simple and unemphatic terms, but with a new and unexampled adjuration: by the roes and by the hinds of the field. And it seems to me that by these two kinds of animals it is intended to designate the holy souls who are delivered from the body, and the Angels who are in the Presence of God, with reference both to the clearness of their sight, and the swiftness of their motions. Now, we know that both the one and the other of these qualities befits these two classes of spirits, for they rise easily to the loftiest truths, and penetrate to the deepest mysteries. The fields or plains, also, over which they are said to roam, evidently denote the lightness and freedom from all restraint with which they expatiate in contemplation. What is the intention, then, of that adjuration by them made by the Spouse? It is doubtless in order that the maidens, restless as they are, may not venture, for any slight cause, to recall His Beloved from a company so august, with whom she assuredly associates, as often as she is rapt out of herself by contemplation. It is, then, with great fitness that they are adjured by respect for those good and holy beings, from whose society the Bride is being torn away by their importunity. These maidens are to consider who it is that they are offending when they importune their mother, and are not to presume so much on her motherly kindness as to have the boldness to burst in upon that celestial assembly when no pressing necessity exists for so doing. Let them clearly understand that this is what they do, as often as they disturb, without real cause, the deep quiet of a soul fixed in contemplation. Evidently it is laid down by these words, that it is to such a soul that the choice is left, whether to employ its leisure to its own spiritual good, or to devote itself to cares for them, that is to say, by the words in which it is forbidden to arouse the Bride, except at her own will. The Bridegroom is well aware how ardent is the affection of His Bride, even towards her neighbours, and that, good mother as she is, she is sufficiently prompted by her own charity anxiously to care for the spiritual interests of her daughters, and that she will not, on any account, deny herself to them, or withdraw herself from them, as often and as much as there is need of her; and therefore He has determined that the question of time can be safely left to her discretion. She is not one such as those whom a prophet subjects to withering reproof, who have taken to themselves that which is fat and strong, but have neglected that which was feeble (Ezek. xxxiv. 3, 4). Does the physician seek those that are healthy, and not rather those that are sick? If he visits the former, it is as friend, and not as physician. So also, O thou who art a good teacher, if you repel all that are unlearned, whom will you instruct? To whom, I ask, will you administer with care and zeal the rules of discipline, if you either avoid the unruly, or are avoided by them? In whom, I ask, shall your patience find its work and be approved, if you admit those only who are peaceful and submissive, and exclude all others?
7. There are some sitting here from whom I should wish to see a more careful heed to this matter. Let them reflect, at least, what respect is due to those set over them, and that, by disturbing them rashly and without good cause, they are drawing upon themselves the displeasure of even the citizens of heaven. And then, perhaps, they will begin to spare us a little more than they have been accustomed to do, and not to break in upon our leisure so inconsiderately and rashly. Rarely, indeed, as they know, is an hour left to me for resting from the incessant coming of visitors, even when [the brethren] bear with me in all patience. But I reproach myself for making that complaint, lest some timid soul should conceal his spiritual needs longer than his strength holds out, in fear of disturbing me. I say no more on this subject, then, lest I should seem myself to afford to those who are weak an example of impatience. The Lord has little children who yet believe in Him, and I could not bear that I should be an occasion of scandal to such (Matt xviii. 6). 1 do not make use of the power that I have over them [as their Abbot]; let them rather make use of me as they will, provided only that they attain salvation. They will really spare me in not sparing me at all, and I shall rest the more freely if they have no fear at all of disturbing me when they have need of anything. I shall comply with their wishes as far as I am able, and as long as I have a breath of life shall serve my God in them with real and unfeigned charity. I seek not my own interests, nor those things which are useful to me, but rather court that which is of use to many, of use also to myself. This only I ask and entreat, that my ministry may be accepted and become fruitful, so that at least I may find mercy in the evil day in the eyes of Him who is their Father, and the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Bridegroom of the Church, who is above all, God