Canticles - part I - 3 | spirituality

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3. Analysis of the Salesian Commentary on the Canticle

(a) The Prologue: Following tradition, St. Francis de Sales attributes the Canticle to Solomon and tells us that this Canticle is a “description of the loves of the Saviour and the devout soul,” for which “it employs a perpetual representation of the loves of a chaste shepherd and a modest shepherdess.”[1]

Right from the outset, the “modest shepherdess” has only one desire, expressed by her sighs – that of receiving from her “chaste shepherd” a kiss from his mouth.

He explains to us afterwards that this kiss “is a sign of love and dilection,” “a living proof of the union of hearts” which is “perfect love”:

Have you not noticed, Theotimus, that the sacred Spouse expresses her desire of being united with her Bridegroom by the kiss, and that this kiss represents the spiritual union which establishes itself by the reciprocal communion of souls?

Certainly it is man who loves, but he loves by his will, and therefore, the end (final cause) of his love is of the nature of his will. But his will is spiritual; that is why the union to which his love aspires is likewise spiritual, especially since the heart, the seat and source of love, not only could not be perfected by the union which it could have with corporal things, but would be debased therein.[2]

St. Francis explains at length the reason for this “debasement” by developing the notion of ecstasy, which is considered an acute form of the tension of our faculties, which he divides into three kinds of “loving actions: the spiritual, the reasonable, and the sensual,” each of which can be exercised without invoking the inhibition of the other two. In love, therefore, it is necessary to give the first place to the heart, which is its source and its seat: “Love is like fire, in which the more delicate the material is, so the clearer and more beautiful are the flames.”[3]

Since love tends toward union, it seems normal, therefore, that the stronger this love will be, the greater the desire for union will be, and as “all loving words are drawn from the resemblance between the affections of the heart and the passions of the body,”[4] so it may be expressed by the sign of the kiss.

That is why this first verse of the Canticle expresses in bold manner man’s profound desire to know God and to be united with Him: this everlasting desire, “the Desired of all nations,” the desire written in the heart “of every man living in this world” for this Incarnation, by which the divine nature, in uniting itself to human nature in the Person of the Son of God, has decided, realized and brought about the Will of God and the Salvation of Creation.[5]

St. Francis thinks about the great happiness which the human heart of Jesus had on that day of the Annunciation, in the moment when it was united to the divine nature “in the womb of the Virgin”[6]: “O what acts of perfect charity, of profound humility did it not produce (the soul of Our Lord) within that very Word at the very hour of the Incarnation.”[7]

And so, the desire of the spouse is genuine; it is authentic not only by what it signifies, but also by what it is, by its very expression. Could we not entice here a reflection on the profound sense of all our gestures? If in former times the spectacle of two lovers knew to inspire the Sacred Writer in a prophecy not only realized, but taken up again and illustrated afterwards by Christ Jesus (let us think of the parable of the Wise and Foolish Virgins, of the Wedding Feast, etc…), why could we not today look for the Christian value in our ordinary behaviour? And will it not be better capable of witnessing by virtue of its authenticity? And, in some way, that which it will signify will then already be somewhat realized.

Perhaps we have further attempted today to forget that our true happiness is not in man but in God, in the condition that the commandment of the Love of God is intimately bound to that of the Love of Neighbour, that dialogue with man is good; in every sense of the term, it is itself indicative of dialogue with God.

Perhaps, also we have too often considered our bodies as an abject instrument, forgetting the profound unity of our being and, consequently, thwarting the true possibility of loving, since it is in our heart that the noble function of opening and preparing it (the body) for the resurrection recurs, in title and in fact, because already in the flight of her heart, the Spouse is persuaded that Love is stronger than death.

(b) First Poem (the Goodness of His Presence): But the Sulamite did not receive that kiss which she so desired. Besides, Francis, almost mischievously, had posed the question: “Is this not too much to ask?” Without even looking to respond to it, she repeats her request: “Yes, give it to me, that kiss of union, O dear friend of my soul.” Then addressing himself to us, he wonders:

Is this desire just, Theotimus, for who would not desire such a desirable good? But this would be a useless desire, besides, and what would it serve other than (of being) a continual martyr to our heart, if we did not have the assurance of one day being able to satisfy it.[8]

That is why, searching in herself for a reason, she looks at herself. Truly her tint is neither white nor delicate, but that has nothing to do with seeing beauty. “I am black, but I am beautiful,” she affirms.

Besides, that is not her fault, for it is such love, itself, that has rendered her so “burned and blackish.” No, there must be another reason why the Beloved has not responded.

Hence, she searches for it and asks him where it could rightly be found. And mysteriously behold that he answers her. Yes, he tells her, you are truly beautiful, and I believe also that everything is beautiful. Is it on account of love? For behind all the beauties of creation, an even greater marvel is found, a marvel of which she will one day have an “entire understanding” and which will radiate her beauty even more.

Even by simply listening to this voice the Spouse is already fulfilled. A great repose overcomes her; she is in the peace of love. “And so, she is a Sulamite, fully pleased, completely tranquil and at rest.”[9] As one knows, “Sulamite,” the wife of Solomon, means the “peaceful” (one).

In this way, gently blessed, the Beloved finds her even more beautiful, and a sweet dialogue ensues which will lead the Spouse into a rapture where, seeming to faint away, she asks for assistance from her companions. For, curiously enough, they will not have left them.

“For this (reason), the divine Bridegroom and the heavenly Spouse re-present their loves by a continual conversion, so that if their male and female friends occasionally speak in the midst of their conversation, it is only stealthily and of the sort that they will not at all trouble their colloquy.”[10]

The companions are near to intervene, but, is it dream or reality, the Beloved senses herself in the arms of the Bridegroom, who asks them to leave her thus asleep.

(c) Second Poem (The Fervour of Love): What has happened? Has the Beloved left, or is she really asleep, losing the notion of his presence? Still, the fact remains that she listens and waits for him to come, she sees him, and now he speaks to her anew.

Our saint takes delight in this spectacle: “See a little how she brims over in a variety of affections …. Behold, so many concerns, O holy Sulamite, in a single moment.”[11]

It is the Beloved who invites her to hasten to come to him. It is now Springtime; all is joy and beauty. With regard to her, he puts all his pleasure in looking at her and in listening to the sound of her voice.

Completely blessed by this invitation, but apparently without reacting, she knows to say: “My dear friend is everything to me, and I am everything to him.”[12]

Then the same phenomenon reproduces itself: as soon as she abandons herself to his happiness, she immediately loses the feeling of his presence (at least that is withdrawn). She calls him, “Come back …” but in vain!

At night time, not finding rest, she arises and runs in pursuit of him. She does not wish to let him go: “I have taken hold of him, and I will not let him go until that (day) when I am introduced to him in the house of my mother.”

“You see,” St. Francis tells us, “this Spouse thinks of nothing else than of holding her Beloved at her mercy as a slave of love, in which she imagines that it is hers to lead him by her will and to introduce him to he blessed abode of her mother, where, nevertheless, she will be introduced by him …”[13] And he joyfully continues:

The soul, impelled by loving passion, always gives a itself a little more to that which it loves, and the Bridegroom, himself, confesses that his Beloved has ravished his heart, having bound him by a single hair of her head, and he acknowledges himself as prisoner of love.[14]

Indeed, it is left to do, and finding her sleeping anew, he asks his companions to let her rest. It seems that the excess of ardour produced the same effects as the excess of happiness.

(d) Third Poem (The Joy of the Bridegroom): Certainly, it seems that there is a progression among the different poems. Indeed, in the first poem, the Sulamite manifests her love, which afterwards she fears losing; one looks forward in the new trials to see if the Spouse will remain “faithful.” But in the meantime, and in order to prepare better the scene which will follow, it seems that there is an “interlude.”

We witness what we could call a “liturgy of love” where the Beloved holds the principal part. Indeed, the shepherd and shepherdess have unexpectedly become king and queen, to him might and power and to her beauty and grace.

The Shepherd-King, Solomon the peaceful, no longer sees his Beloved (“How beautiful you are…”), yet he begins to describe her minutely. Afterwards, quite naturally, he calls upon her a second time but with such insistence that he surprises himself in declaring his love: “You have rent my heart, my sister, my spouse.”

And, St. Francis, although listening to the Bridegroom, glances at her and underlines his rather spontaneous affection:

The sacred Spouse used to close one of her eyes so as to unite her sight more strongly in the other one and, by this means, to aim more precisely at the centre of his heart … She herself holds her wig (her hair) so pleated and gathered together in its trees that she seems to have only one, single hair, which she presses close together as in a chain to bind and ravish the heart of her Bridegroom.[15]

She allows him to continue in this way, entirely fulfilled and delighted that he finally agreed to her love and completely impressed that she was everything to him. It is then that, in her turn, she invites him “to come to her garden and eat of the fruit of her apple trees.”

And the Bridegroom came, but he was so content there, that at the same time, he invited all his friends: “Eat, my friends, and drink, and be intoxicated, my very dear (ones).” A grand feast is organized!

(e) Fourth Poem (The Great Trial): Thoroughly blessed in finding herself thus amid joyous company, the Spouse once more grows drowsy, but she makes some efforts to keep from falling asleep again and losing anew her Beloved: “I sleep,” she tells herself, “but my heart watches!” But it seems that she was no longer able to resist.

Behold the Bridegroom who calls her again. What had happened? It is very difficult to say; still, the fact remains that he is at the door and that he knocks: “Hasten to open to me; I have hair all full of dew…”

It is night. Rudely awakened, she acts poorly and does not realize what is happening. When she arises, in her haste and being completely moved and nervous, she does not know how to dress. “She overturns the vase of myrrh,” St. Francis de Sales tells us, and when she is at her door, too late, he has already disappeared!

It is then that the dream turns to nightmare. She opens the door, runs after him, and again finds the guards of the city, who this time are jeering at her. Bu, being “completely bewildered” by sorrow, she proclaims to them her great love for her Beloved: “If you see him, tell him that I languish of love for him!”

After that come the Daughters of Jerusalem, who upon seeing her in such a state, ask her: is it necessary that he be beautiful in order to rouse such love?

Yes, she answers them, “He is beautiful in a marvellous way.” And she begins to describe him so strongly that, in proportion, her love is intensified: “O how beautiful is my Beloved; how I love him; he is my most dear (one).”

Then why is he not here? Where has he gone? They ask her. But she no longer listens to them, for even if he had gone very far, he is now present in her heart, and she repeats without ceasing:

I am to my Beloved,

and my Beloved is to me…

(f) Fifth Poem (The Only Beloved!): Her heart was right, for the Beloved is there. Behold him who appears and presses toward her: “O my beloved, how beautiful you are!” He begins to contemplate her face and senses that he will not be strong enough to resist such grace. He is conquered: “Turn away your eyes from upon me…”

And just now she had said that she would have chosen him (from) “among thousands.” Had she meant it? In his turn, he replies to her that she is his Only (one), his unique dove.

And see how, in the measure that he looks at her, he is astonished. In that case, she, be it loving vengeance or capricious pretence, appears to turn away. It is then that he calls her again, and irresistibly she returns. At that moment, we could say, she began to dance: “How beautiful are your steps… What decorum you have in your march!” And he begins to describe her as she had just now described him.

It seems that the rhythm grows in intensity, and he begins to express his desire by comparing her to a palm tree.

“The hairs of the Spouse,” Francis de Sales then explains to us, “are like the ‘tendrils’ of palm trees which envelop the leaves. When they open, the flowers appear completely white. In the same way, when the hairs of the Spouse are separated, the remarkable beauty of her face appears, such a bouquet of flowers, with such a white colour that her hair seems jet black.”

A second time she invites him: “Come, let us escape to the fields…” But behold her anew in the arms of the Bridegroom, who, looking at the Daughters, asks them not to rouse her.

Their love is perfect: his of benevolence and hers of complacence.

(g) Conclusion (Love Strong as Death): This last part is full of mysteries and problems, and each verse offers multiple interpretations.

But for Francis it is the loving dialogue which continues, and the Bridegroom, who is Jesus Christ, recalls to his Beloved the history of his love since the fall of Adam and Eve.

Place me as a stamp on your heart

and as a seal on your name.

And so, he would like the heart of his Beloved, meaning her love, and her arms, meaning her entire life, all her actions, be for him, only for Him. And was it not proven by the Resurrection that Love is stronger than death?

After that, He recounts how He chose Mary and Joseph in order to come “here below on earth.” “Our sister is small…” – it is the holy Virgin who had made the vow of virginity – “she does not think of marriage; she has neither the heart nor the care for it.” St. Joseph was there in order to protect her and to provide that the mystery of the Incarnation be realized.

And even the last phrase, enigmatic in the translation of that time: “Flee, meaning come…” – it is the Ascension of Our Lord, for which St. Francis de Sales delivers to us his ingenious explanation: “The roe, when it flees, looks ahead so that the fawn of the does, which meanwhile walks entirely by leaping, might heed at each moment where it has left its mother.”

“The Canticle of Canticles,” he tells us, “is the wedding song (epithame) of the Church and of Christ.” Solomon begins by a desire for union: “Let him kiss me, let him come and unite himself to me by the Incarnation, in which Wisdom, going forth from the mouth of the Most High, unites itself to our flesh…” And he finishes by the Ascension; “Flee, my Beloved, he says; be like the roe and the fawn of the does on the fragrant mountains.”[16]

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[1] Oeuvres, Tome IV, p. 50. Treatise on the Love of God, Book 1, chapter 18.

[2] Oeuvres, Tome IV, p. 55. Treatise on the Love of God, Book 1, chapter 10.

[3] Oeuvres, Tome IV, p. 61. Treatise on the Love of God, Book 1, chapter 10.

[4] Oeuvres, Tome IV, p. 347. Treatise on the Love of God, Book 6, chapter 13.

[5] Oeuvres, Tome IX, p. 422. cf. Gen. 49:26.

[6] Oeuvres, Tome X, p. 44.

[7] Oeuvres, Tome IX, p. 7.

[8] Oeuvres, Tome IV, p. 139. Treatise on the Love of God, Book 2, chapter 16.

[9] Oeuvres, Tome IV, p. 331. Treatise on the Love of God, Book 6, chapter 8.

[10] Oeuvres, Tome IV, p. 304. Treatise on the Love of God, Book 6, chapter 1.

[11] Oeuvres, Tome V, p. 392. cf. Treatise on the Love of God, Book 6, chapter 7.