Sermon XXVIII. The Curtains of Solomon are Explained in Reference to the Blackness of the Bridegroom and the Bride

"As the curtains of Solomon."

You remember, I suppose, what, in my opinion, those curtains are to which the Spouse compares her beauty, and to what Solomon they belong, that is, if we wish to refer the simile drawn from them to the illustration and commendation of that beauty. But if we prefer to understand this, as well as the comparison with the tents of Cedar, of the Spouse's blackness, I can think of no other curtains of Solomon, but those which the King used himself whenever it pleased him to dwell in tents. The exterior of such curtains, if indeed there were any, must doubtless have been discoloured and blackened from daily exposure to the sun and from the injurious effects of the frequent rains. Nor were they so exposed without reason, but in order that he who reposed within, decked with his royal ornaments, might be preserved from any stain of defilement. By this similitude, therefore, the Spouse does not deny her blackness, but excuses it. Never shall she disdain any robe which charity forms and the judgment of truth does not condemn. For "who is weak and" she "is not weak? Who is scandalised and" she "is not on fire?" She assumes the swarthiness of compassion in order to cure or to soothe the maladies of evil passion in others. She grows dark through zeal for brightness, she becomes black in the quest after beauty.

Thus, the blackness of One makes many white, not the blackness caused by sin, but that which results from solicitude. As we read, "It is expedient for you that one Man should die for the people, and that the whole nation perish not." It is expedient that One should be discoloured for the sake of all, "in the likeness of sinful flesh," lest the whole nation should be condemned on account of the blackness of sin; that the Splendour and the Figure of the Substance of the Divinity be shrouded in the form of a servant to save the life of a servant; that the Brightness of Eternal Life should grow dim in the flesh for the purification of the flesh; that He Who is "beautiful above the sons of men" should, in order to enlighten the sons of men, suffer the eclipse of His Passion, the disgrace of the cross, the discoloration of death; and that He should be divested completely of all beauty and comeliness, that so He might win for Himself in the Church a comely and beautiful Spouse, without spot or wrinkle. I recognise King Solomon's curtain. Rather, I embrace Solomon Himself under His black curtain. For even Solomon has blackness, but only in His curtain, that is, in His skin. He is dark exteriorly, dark in His skin, not in His interior, because "all the glory of the King's daughter is within." Within is the White Light of the Divinity, the loveliness of the virtues, the splendour of glory, the purity of innocence. But all this beauty is concealed under the ignoble hue of infirmity. For "His look is, as it were, hidden and despised," whilst He is being "tempted in all things like as we are, without sin." I recognise the symbol and type of our sin-blackened nature. I recognise those curtains, those garments of skins wherewith our guilty first parents covered their nakedness. For He made Himself black, "taking the form of a servant, being made in the likeness of men and in habit found as a man." I recognise under the skin of the kid, which signifies sin, the Hand of Him "Who hath done no sin," and the Neck through which the thought of evil never passed, and therefore "neither was there deceit in His Mouth." I know that thou art of a gentle nature, "meek and humble of heart," of gracious aspect and amiable disposition, for Thou art "anointed with the oil of gladness above Thy fellows." How, then, dost Thou now appear rough and hairy like Esau? What means this blackness? And these wrinkles on Thy Brow that should be white and smooth? Whence this hairy covering on Thy Hands? Ah, yes, I understand. They are mine. These hairy Hands signify that Thou hast taken upon Thee the likeness of my sinful flesh. This shagginess I recognise as my own, and as holy Job predicted, in my own skin "I see God, my Saviour."

But it was not Rebecca, but Mary, that clothed this my Jacob, Who was the more deserving to receive a paternal blessing than His type, in proportion as He was born of a holier Mother. And rightly does He appear in my garments, since it is for me that the blessing is obtained, for me the inheritance is solicited. For He has heard His Father promising "Ask of Me and I will give Thee the Gentiles for Thy inheritance, and the utmost parts of the earth for Thy possession." "Thy inheritance," the Father says, and "Thy possession I will give to Thee," But how canst Thou give Him what is His already? And why dost thou bid Him to ask? Or how is that His which it is necessary He should ask for? It is, therefore, not for Himself He is to ask, but for me. And it is for this that He has assumed my nature, in order to plead my cause. For, as the Prophet declares, "the chastisement of our peace is upon Him, and the Lord hath laid on Him the iniquity of us all." "Wherefore," concludes the Apostle, "it behoved Him in all things to be made like to His brethren, that He might become merciful." Hence, "the voice indeed is the voice of Jacob, but the hands are the hands of Esau." What is heard from Him is His own, but that which is seen in Him is ours. What He speaks is "spirit and life," what He exhibits to our sight is mortality and death. We see one thing and we believe another. Sense reports Him black, but faith discovers Him to be white and beautiful. Black in truth He is, but only to the eyes of the foolish. For to the minds of the faithful He appears wondrously fair and lovely. He is "black but beautiful," black in the estimation of Herod, beautiful in the confession of the Thief and in the faith of the Centurion.

Certainly, His exceeding beauty did not escape the observation of him who exclaimed, "Indeed, this Man was the Son of God." But wherein he discovered that beauty, we have now, my brethren, to ascertain. For if he attended to external appearances, in what respect did the Saviour show Himself beautiful, in what the Son of God? What did He exhibit to the eyes of the spectators except unsightliness and blackness, whilst, hanging between two criminals, with His arms extended on the cross, He became an Object of ridicule to the malignant, and of compassion to the faithful? He alone excited laughter, Who alone could have excited fear, and Who alone could have demanded honour. How, then, did the Centurion discover the beauty of the Crucified, and the Divine Sonship of Him Who "was reputed with the wicked"? It is neither right nor necessary for me to reply to this question, since the vigilance of the Evangelist has not allowed it to pass unanswered. For thus we read, "And the Centurion, who stood over against Him, seeing that crying out in this manner, He had given up the ghost, said: Indeed, this Man was the Son of God." It was, therefore, at the sound of His voice that he believed. It was the voice, not the Face, that revealed to him the Son of God. For perhaps he was one of those sheep of His, whereof He said, "My sheep hear My voice."

Hearing discovered that which escaped the sense of sight. The eye was imposed upon by the colour, but the truth entered the mind through the avenue of the ear. For the eye pronounced Christ to be weak, unsightly, miserable, a Man condemned to a most ignominious death. But the ear recognised that He was beautiful, that He was the Son of God, not, however, the ear of the Jews, because they were "uncircumcised in ears." With good reason, therefore, did St. Peter cut ofl the external ear of the servant, in order to open a way for truth, that the truth might emancipate him, that is, might make him free. The Centurion also was uncircumcised, but not in ear, since from one cry of the dying Saviour, he recognised in Him the Lord of Majesty amidst so many evidences of weakness. And as he believed what he did not see, he did not contemn that which met his eye. It was not what he beheld that made him believe, but what he heard, because "faith cometh by hearing." It were more fitting, indeed, that truth should enter the soul by the upper windows of the eyes. But this, O my soul, is reserved for the next life, when we shall see "face to face." Meantime, let the remedy find its way into our minds through the same aperture as the malady of old; let life follow in the tracks of death; let light travel in the path of darkness; and let the antidote of truth enter by the same door as the poison of the old serpent, and heal the eye, which is "troubled," in order that it may serenely contemplate Him Who is inaccessible to trouble. So let the ear, which was the first gate open to death, be also the first open to life. Let the hearing, which was the means of destroying the sight, be made the means of its restoration; because unless we believe we shall not be able to understand.¹ Consequently, merit belongs to hearing, and reward to sight. Hence the Psalmist sings, "To my hearing Thou shalt give joy and gladness." For the Beatific Vision is the reward of faithful hearing, because it is by faithful hearing that we merit the Beatific Vision. Again, the Lord says, "Blessed are the clean of heart, for they shall see God." Now, the eye that is to behold God must first be purified by the faith that "cometh by hearing," as we read, "purifying their hearts by faith."

In the meantime, then, until the sense of sight is fully prepared for its most perfect functions, let the hearing be aroused and exercised in receiving truth. Happy the man of whom Truth Itself bears witness, saying, "At the hearing of the ear he hath obeyed Me!" For I shall then only be worthy to see, if before seeing I shall have been found obedient. Securely shall I gaze upon my Lord, if He has already received the service of my obedience. How blessed was he who said, "The Lord hath opened my ear, and I do not resist, I have not gone back!" Here you have a pattern of voluntary obedience, and also an example of perseverance. For he who does not contradict is prompt to obey; and he has perseverance who turns not back. Both virtues are necessary, since "God loveth a cheerful giver," and "he that shall persevere unto the end he shall be saved." Would that the Lord would open my ear, that the word of truth might enter my heart, and purify my eye, and prepare it for the blissful Vision! Then I, too, might say to God, "Thine Ear hath heard the preparation of my heart." Then might I, too, with His other obedient servants, hear from Him, "And you are clean because of the word which I have spoken to you." For not all who hear are cleansed, but only those that obey. "Blessed are they who hear the word of God and keep it." Such a heedful hearing is required by Him Who commands, saying, "Hear, O Israel." And it is this hearing of obedience that he offered who said, "Speak, Lord, because Thy servant heareth." The same is promised by the Psalmist, when he says, "I will hear what the Lord God will speak in me."

"Hearken, O daughter, and see." So speaks the Holy Ghost, my brethren, wishing thus to make us understand the order He observes in leading souls to perfection, first instructing the ear and afterwards delighting the vision. Why, then, do you strain your eyes for the sight of the divine beauty, when you ought rather to be preparing your ears to receive the divine truth? Are you yearning to see Christ? But it is necessary to hear Him first, and to hear of Him, so that when you do see Him, you may be able to say, "As we have heard, so have we seen." Through so narrow and so small an opening as the aperture of the eye you cannot surely hope to take in a glory so immense. But you may do by hearing what is impossible to sight. Being then a sinner, I could not see God when He called, saying, "Adam, where art thou?" Yet I heard Him. But if the hearing be found pious, vigilant and faithful, it will restore the lost vision. Faith will certainly purge the eye "troubled" by impiety; and the eye that has been closed by the sin of insubordination will be opened by the merit of obedience. This the Psalmist acknowledges as having occurred in his own case, when he sings, "By Thy commandments I have had understanding." For the observance of the divine precepts gives back the understanding which had been lost through transgression. And notice in the case of holy Isaac, how in his old age his hearing, as we read, was more perfect than any of the other senses. Dim were the eyes of the Patriarch, unreliable his faculties of taste and touch. Only his hearing continued unimpaired. And what wonder if the ear is percipient of truth, since "faith cometh by hearing, and hearing by the word of Christ"? For the word of Christ is truth. "The voice, indeed," said Isaac, "is the voice of Jacob." Nothing more true. "But the hands are the hands of Esau." Nothing more false. Thou art here in error, holy Patriarch. The resemblance of the hands deceives thee. Nor is there discernment of truth in thy taste, although it is true in its estimate of savour. For how can that faculty be said to pronounce truly, since it judges the food eaten to be venison, which, in reality, is only the flesh of the domestic kids? Much less oughtest thou to look for truth in the testimony of thine eye which perceives nothing at all. There is neither truth in th; eye, nor true wisdom. "Woe to you," says the Prophet, "who are wise in your own eyes." Surely that cannot be true wisdom which is thus accursed. It is the "wisdom of this world," which is "foolishness with God."

But good and true wisdom "is drawn out of secret places," as blessed Job believed. Why then seek it outside, in your bodily senses? Wisdom resides in the heart as taste in the palate. Seek not wisdom in the material eye, since flesh and blood do not reveal it, but only the Spirit of God. Neither should you look for it in the taste of the mouth, because "it is not found in the land of them that live in delights," as Job tells us. Nor in the touch of the hand, for the same holy man declares, "If I have kissed my hand with my mouth, which is very great iniquity, and a denial against the Most High God." As I understand it, the hand is thus kissed when wisdom, which is God's gift, is ascribed, not to Him, but to our own merits. Isaac was a wise man, yet he was led astray by his senses. Hearing alone takes hold of the truth, because it alone has perception of the word. Justly, therefore, is the still carnally-minded woman, Magdalen, forbidden to touch the reanimated Flesh of the Word, because she gave more credit to the eye than to the oracle, that is to say, to the sense of the body, than to the word of God. For she did not believe Him risen, though He had promised to rise, whereas she believed Him dead on the testimony of her senses. Nor did her eye rest until her sight had been satisfied, because she had no consolation from faith, no confidence in the promise of God. But is it not so, that heaven and earth and everything visible to this eye of flesh must pass away and perish, ere one jot or one tittle of all that God has spoken shall be suffered to fall to the ground? And yet she, who found no consolation in the word of the Lord, ceased from her weeping at the vision of her eye, placing greater reliance on experience than on faith. Nevertheless, experience is often deceptive.

She is, therefore, invited to give the preference to the more certain knowledge of faith, which attains to things beyond the reach of the senses, beyond the range of experience. "Do not touch Me," said the risen Saviour. That is to say, "Cease to confide in thy fallacious senses. Rely upon my word. Accustom thyself to being led by the influence of faith. Faith is infallible, it apprehends the invisible, it is a stranger to the poverty of sense. Nay, it even transcends the limits of human reason, the capacity of nature, the bounds of experience. Why ask the eye about objects beyond its possibilities of vision? And why should the hand endeavour to touch that which is altogether above its reach. The knowledge given by either of these faculties is of comparatively little worth. But faith will certainly speak to thee of Me, without detracting aught from My Majesty. Learn to receive with more certainty and to follow with fuller confidence what it shall teach thee. ' Do not touch Me, for I am not yet ascended to My Father.' "As if to say that when He is ascended, she shall have the permission or the power to touch Him. And indeed that power she shall have, but with her affection, not with her hand; with her will, not with her eye; with faith, not with the senses. "Why," He asks, "dost thou seek to touch Me now, whilst with the bodily sense thou dost estimate the glory of My Resurrection? Knowest thou not that even in the days of My passible life, the eyes of My disciples were unable to bear the glory of My mortal Body, momentarily transfigured. I still condescend, indeed, to the weakness of thy senses, by presenting to thee the form of a servant which thou canst recognise from thy past experience. But My glory ' is become wonderful to ' thee; ' it is high ' and thou canst ' not reach to it.' Defer, therefore, thy judgment; postpone thy verdict; do not entrust thy senses with so important a decision, but reserve it to faith, which, as comprehending more fully, will pronounce sentence more worthily and with more truth and confidence. For faith, in that deep and mystical breast of hers, comprehends ' what is the breadth and length, and height, and depth ' of this glory. What 'eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither hath it entered the heart of man,' that faith bears within herself, wrapped round with mystery and preserved under seal.

"She, therefore, may worthily touch Me, who shall behold Me enthroned with the Father, no longer in an humble, but in a heavenly form, in the same Flesh indeed as to substance, but different as to degree of glory. Why wouldst thou touch what as yet is uncomely? Wait that thou mayst touch Me when I am revealed in My perfect beauty. For I, Who am now unprepossessing by comparison, shall be truly beautiful then. Now I appear imperfect to the faculties of touch and of sight. I appear imperfect to thee, who art thyself imperfect, in that thou dost follow sense in preference to faith. Make thyself beautiful, and then mayst thou touch Me. Thou shalt make thyself beautiful by rendering thyself faithful. Thus beautiful thyself, thou shalt more worthily and more blissfully touch Me in My beauty. Thou shalt touch Me with the hand of faith, with the finger of desire, with the embrace of devotion, with the eye of the intellect. But shall I still be black? God forbid! Thy Beloved shall be beautiful beyond question and beyond compare, for He shall be ' white and ruddy ' as being surrounded with roses and lilies of the valley, that is, by the choirs of martyrs and virgins. Nor shall I in the midst of both companies appear alien to either, since I am Myself both a Martyr and a Virgin. For how could I be alien to the white choirs of virgins, being not only a Virgin, but the Son of a virgin, and the Bridegroom of a virgin? Or to the roseate army of martyrs, I, Who am the Motive, the Virtue, the Reward, and the Model of martyrs? When thou art such thyself, then mayst thou touch Me Who am such, and touch Me in such a way.² Then canst thou say, ' My Beloved is white and ruddy, chosen out of thousands.' ' Thousands of thousands ' are with thy Beloved, ' and ten thousand times a hundred thousand ' surround Him, yet nigh Him is there none. Perhaps thou hast need to fear, lest, in seeking Him Whom thou lovest, thou shouldst mistake for Him one of the multitude of His attendants? But no, thou shalt have no hesitation in singling Him out. He shall easily draw thy attention, being ' chosen out of thousands/ and of peerless glory; and thou shalt say, ' This is My Beloved, this Beautiful One, in His robe, walking in the greatness of His strength.' No longer, therefore, shall He walk in the black skin, which up to this had to be presented to the eyes of His enemies, that they might despise Him Whom they were to slay, and now even to the eyes of His friends, that they might recognise Him after His Resurrection. No longer, I say, shall He appear under a black curtain, but in white robes, beautiful not only above the sons of men, but above even the angelic spirits. Why, then, dost thou wish to touch Me, whilst still in this humble habit, this servile form, this contemptible appearance? Touch Me when I manifest Myself all radiant with heavenly beauty, ' crowned with honour and glory/ terrible in the Majesty of My Godhead, yet sweet and mild in My native serenity."

Here, my brethren, we must admire the prudence of the Spouse and the profound wisdom of her words. Under the shade of Solomon's curtains, that is, in the flesh, she seeks the Glory of the Divinity, she seeks Life in death, the summit of honour and majesty in disgrace, and under the black mantle of the Crucified, the whiteness of innocence and the splendour of virtue. For it was thus that those royal curtains, black though they were, and contemptible, preserved under their awning the bright and precious ornaments of an exceedingly wealthy monarch. Wisely does she refrain from despising the blackness of the curtains, perceiving the beauty concealed underneath. But that blackness was despised by some who knew nothing of the treasure it covered. "For if they had known it," says St. Paul, "they would never have crucified the Lord of Glory." King Herod knew it not, and hence his contempt for Christ. Neither did the Synagogue know it, since she reproached the Saviour with His suffering and His weakness, saying, "He saved others, Himself He cannot save; if He be the King of Israel, let Him come down from the cross, and we will believe in Him." But the Thief, from the cross whereon he was hanging, recognised that hidden beauty of Him Who was also suspended on His cross, and he acknowledged and proclaimed the purity of His innocence. "This Man," said he, "hath done no evil." He also, at the same time, confessed the Glory of His royal Majesty by the prayer, "Remember me when Thou shalt come into Thy kingdom." This beauty under blackness was likewise detected by the Centurion, who declared the Crucified to be the Son of God, as it is now by the Church, which emulates the blackness in order to participate in the beauty. She is not ashamed either to appear or to be called black, so that she may be able to say to her Beloved, "The reproaches of them that reproached Thee are fallen upon me." Yet surely she is but "black as the curtains of Solomon," that is to say, only in her exterior, and not also within. For there is nothing black in the interior of this Solomon of mine. Observe that she does not say, "I am black as Solomon," but only "as the curtains," that is, as the skin "of Solomon," because the blackness of the true Peaceful One is all on the surface. The blackness of guilt shows itself within. Sin discolours the interior before it appears exteriorly to the eye. So it is written, "From the heart come forth evil thoughts, murders, adulteries, fornications, thefts, false testimonies, blasphemies, these are the things that defile a man." God forbid that blackness of this kind should be found in Solomon! No, such defilement you shall never discover in Him Who is truly called the Peaceful. For He, "Who taketh away the sins of the world," ought Himself to be without sin, in order that He may be found worthy to win peace for sinners, and so may be justly entitled to the name of Solomon.

But there is, besides, the blackness of afflicted penitence, which appears when we conceive a heart-felt sorrow for our sins. I do not think that Solomon will contemn me for this kind of blackness, if voluntarily assumed on account of my transgressions, because "a contrite and humbled heart, O God, Thou wilt not despise." There is also the blackness of tender compassion, which we exhibit whenever we sympathise with our suffering brethren, as if we were discoloured by our neighbour's misfortune. Neither do I think that this blackness will be displeasing to our Peaceful One, since He Himself condescended to assume it for our sakes, "Who bore our sins in His Body upon the tree." Another kind of blackness is that of persecution. This should be valued as a most beautiful ornament, when borne for the sake of justice and truth. Hence we read that the apostles "went from the presence of the council, rejoicing that they were accounted worthy to suffer reproach for the name of Jesus." And the Lord says: "Blessed are they that suffer persecution for justice sake." It is in this blackness, most of all, as I think, that the Church glories. It is this she endeavours to copy more eagerly than any other of the black curtains of Solomon. She has even been promised a participation in it, in the words of Christ, "If they have persecuted Me, they will also persecute you."

Therefore the Spouse goes on to say, "Do not consider that I am brown, because the sun hath altered my colour." That is to say, "Do not find fault with me as uncomely because Thou dost not find me fair and blooming under the stress of affliction, nor beautifully tinted, according to human standards of beauty. Why wouldst Thou reproach me with a blackness due to the violence of persecution rather than to the defilement of transgression? Or perhaps by the sun she means the zeal for justice by which she is inflamed and aroused against the malignant, saying with the Psalmist, "The zeal of Thy house hath eaten me up"; and "My zeal hath made me pine away, because my enemies forgot Thy words"; also, "A fainting hath taken hold of me, because of the wicked that forsake Thy law"; likewise, "Have I not hated them, O Lord, that hated Thee, and pined away because of Thy enemies? "She also carefully follows the advice of the Wise Man, "Hast thou daughters? Shew not thy countenance gay towards them." For herein she is counselled to exhibit not the brightness of serenity, but the darkness of severity to such as are lax and effeminate and haters of discipline. Or again, to be discoloured by the sun may mean to burn with the flame of fraternal charity, like St. Paul, to "weep with them that weep," to be weak with the weak, to be on fire when any is scandalised. Still another interpretation: we may understand the Spouse as saying, "Christ, the Sun of Justice, has discoloured me, because I languish with the love of Him." Such languor destroys in a manner the natural hue, and causes a swooning of the spirit, so to speak, through the intense ardour of the soul's desires. Hence the Prophet testifies, "I remembered God and was delighted, and was exercised, and my spirit swooned away." Therefore, the ardour of desire, like a burning sun, darkens the complexion of the pilgrim longing for the Vision of Glory, whilst impatience is begotten of disappointment and eagerness of love is tormented by dey. Which of us, my brethren, is so on fire with holy love, that in his yearning to behold Christ, he loathes and leaves aside all the brightness and joy of earthly glory and gratification, protesting to Him in the words of the Prophet Jeremias, "And I have not desired the day of man, Thou knowest," and saying with holy David, "My soul refused to be comforted," that is, she disdained to be brightened with the empty joys of worldly honours. Or, finally, she may have meant this: "The Sun hath darkened my colour by the contrast with His own Divine Splendour. For as I draw nigh to Him I am made more sensible of my own duskiness. I obtain a clearer knowledge of my own blackness, and I despise my ugliness. Yet in other respects I am truly beautiful. Why do you call me black, since I yield only to the Sun in loveliness?" But what follows seems to me to accord better with the interpretation of the blackness as the effect of violence. For the Spouse clearly indicates that she suffered persecution, by adding "The sons of my mother have fought against me." But I shall take this as my text in the morrow's discourse. To-day you must be satisfied with what you have already heard concerning the glory and by the grace of the Bridegroom of the Church, Our Lord Jesus Christ, Who is God, blessed for ever. Amen.

Footnotes

1. An allusion to the scholastic formula, "credo ut intelligam" or perhaps to Is. vii. 9 (Juxta Sept.), "nisi credideritis non inteiligetis."— (Translator). ↩

2. "Talem talis taliterque tange." This sentence will give some idea of the Saint's power of condensation, as also of his fondness for alliteration. — (Translator.) ↩