Sermon LI. On the Mystical Flowers and Fruits, and the Bridegroom's Right and Left Hand

"Stay me up with flowers, compass me about with apples, because I languish with love. His Left Hand is under my head, and His Right shall embrace me."

Stay me up with flowers, compass me about with apples, because I languish with love." The charity of the Spouse, my brethren, has grown stronger than ever, having gathered new energies from the extraordinary succession of favours just now bestowed. For you have seen how generously she was allowed to enjoy not alone the presence, but even the familiar conversation of her Beloved. Moreover, He appeared to her in this visitation with a more serene countenance than usual, His language was pleasanter, and He gave her more of His company than on former occasions; and not content to delight her with His loving communications, He crowned her happiness by adding words of praise. Nor was this all. She obtained besides the privilege of resting under the shadow of Him Whom she desired, of eating of His fruit, and drinking of His chalice. For it is not to be supposed that she came forth thirsty from the "cellar of wine," into which she was boasting just now of having been introduced. But perhaps it would be better to say that she did come forth thirsty, since we read in Ecclesiastes, "They that drink me shall yet thirst." After granting her all these favours, the Beloved retired, according to His custom. Immediately she proclaims herself languishing with love, that is to say, reduced to a state of weakness by the violence of love. And the bitterness which she suffers at the departure of her Bridegroom is proportionate to the delight which she experienced in His presence. For the deprivation of what one loves, increases one's desire of it, and the pain of separation varies in intensity with the ardour of desire. The Spouse, therefore, begs to be consoled with the pleasant odours of flowers and fruits, until the hour when He shall again come back to her Whose absence she can scarcely endure. So much for the order of discourse.

Let us now endeavour, under the guidance of the Spirit of truth, to extract the mystical meaning which lies underneath the rind of the letter. If we suppose the speaker in this place to be the universal Church of the saints, the flowers and the fruits must be understood as representing ourselves, and not us only, but all others, equally, throughout the whole earth, who have been converted from a worldly life. By the flowers are designated the young and tender virtues of those who are still in their spiritual beginnings, whilst the fruit is meant to symbolise the strength and maturity of the perfect. Stayed up, therefore, with such flowers and compassed about with such apples, holy mother Church, fruitful even in her exile, to whom "to live is Christ and to die gain," supports doubtless with equanimity the bitterness of her banishment; because according to Holy Scripture, there is given to her "of the fruit of her hands," as of the first-fruits of the Spirit, and "her works praise her in the gates." But if we wish, according to the moral sense, to assign both the fruit and the flowers to the same soul, then the flowers must be taken to signify faith, and the fruit good works. Nor, as I think, will you judge this to be fanciful, when you remember that good works must always follow faith, just as the fruit is preceded by the blossom. For we have it on the authority of St. Paul that "without faith it is impossible to please God." Nay, the same Apostle teaches that "all that is not of faith is sin." And so it is quite as impossible to have good works without faith, as it is to have fruit without flowers. Furthermore, just as the flower has no value if the fruit does not follow it, so, "faith without works is dead." "Stay me up with flowers, compass me about with apples, because I languish with love." By these words we are given to understand that the soul accustomed to the tranquil repose of prayer, must find her consolation in the good works which spring from the root of a sincere faith, whenever, as frequently happens, the light and grace of contemplation is temporarily withdrawn. For it is a great thing and a rare thing to be favoured even occasionally with such a grace, not to speak of enjoying it uninterruptedly, whilst we are still abiding in the flesh. But, as I have said, whenever the divine light is eclipsed in the soul, she should immediately apply herself to the practice of the virtues, so that she may the more easily return to the happier state, as being still in its neighbourhood, so to speak. For the contemplative and the active life are closely related to each other and live under the same roof. Remember that Martha is Mary's sister. V Therefore, when the soul loses the light of holy contemplation for a time, she does not fall into the darkness of sin, or into the lethargy of sloth, but keeps herself bright and active by the performance of good works. And lest you should find it hard to believe

II. that good works are light, listen to the words of the Lord: "Let your light shine before men," where by "light" He evidently means virtuous actions, visible to human eyes.

"Stay me up with flowers, compass me about with apples, because I languish with love." The flame of love burns brightly, my brethren, in the presence of the person beloved, but languishes in his absence. This languishing is nothing else than the weariness begotten of impatient desire, which must inevitably come upon the soul when her love is strong and the loved one absent, whilst in the eagerness of her longing the swiftest haste is reputed tardy. Therefore, the Spouse is here expressing the wish to be surrounded with the fruits of good works, and the sweet odours of faith, wherein she may find consolation whilst "the Bridegroom tarries." Let me now tell you something of my own experience in this matter. Whenever I discover that any of you is making better progress towards perfection in consequence of my exhortations and admonitions, I confess I feel no regret for having given up my own leisure and repose to the labour of preparing my discourses. For example, if after the sermon the hot-tempered monk is found to be gentle, the proud monk humble, and the pusillanimous trustful; further, if those who were already conspicuously gentle, humble, or trustful are seen to have advanced each in his special virtue, and are now more gentle, more humble, or more trustful; if again, they who perhaps had grown tepid and languid in the service of God, going through every spiritual exercise in a sluggish and drowsy manner, appear to have been aroused and renewed in fervour by the "burning word" of the Lord; and, finally, if they who, forsaking the well of wisdom, had "digged to themselves broken cisterns" of self-wiU, "that can hold no water," who consequently with hearts heavy and dry, as containing no moisture of devotion, were wont to murmur against every order of authority: y when these, I say, prove themselves to have "flourished again" unto the perfect practice of obedience, and appear now docile and devout in all things, because of the "free rain," the dew of the word, which God has "set aside for His inheritance"—I assure you, my brethren, that it is impossible for my soul to admit any sadness, or to grieve over the loss of the delights of contemplation, when thus encompassed with these flowers and fruits of piety. Patiently shall I suffer myself to be withdrawn from the embraces of the barren Rachel, provided I can obtain from the fertile Lia an abundant fruit in your advancement. I certainly shall never begrudge the time consumed in the preparation of these discourses, which otherwise I should have spent in the repose of contemplation, so long as I behold the seed of my words germinating in ' your hearts, and springing up into a plentiful harvest of the fruits of justice. For charity, which "seeketh ' not her own," easily persuaded me long ago that my own private satisfaction should never be preferred to the common good. Prayer, reading, writing, meditation, and if there be any other spiritual exercise "that was gain to me, the same I have counted loss for" your sakes.

"Stay me up with flowers, compass me about with apples, because I languish with love." These words, my brethren, may be accordingly understood as addressed to the young maidens by the Spouse in the absence of the Beloved, in order to admonish them of the necessity of advancing in faith and good works "until He come." For she was well aware that by doing so they would be fumihng the good pleasure of her Bridegroom, securing their own salvation, and bringing consolation to herself. I remember to have explained this verse more fully and in a different sense in my book "On the Love of God"; but whether better or worse than now, I leave him to decide who may wish to compare the two expositions. But surely no person of prudence will find fault with me for giving various interpretations of the same text, provided nothing is said anywhere contrary to truth. For charity, which every part of Holy Scripture is intended to subserve, will be able to accomplish its work of edification all the more efficaciously, in proportion to the number of apt expositions discoverable for each passage. Why should we condemn in scriptural exegesis what we are constantly doing in the use of other things? Take water, for example. How many are the purposes for which it is employed in relation to our bodies! In the same way, there should be no objection to the practice of drawing out from any single text of Scripture a variety of apt significations, suited to the necessity or the use of different souls.

But the Spouse continues, "His Left Hand is under my head, and His Right Hand shall embrace me." These words also, as I recollect, have been discussed at length in the above-mentioned treatise. But let me explain the sequence of the discourse. The Bridegroom has evidently returned. He came back, as it seems to me, in order to console by His presence His languishing Spouse. And surely she must have recovered her spirits in the society of Him Whose absence had filled her with sadness. He, on His side, has been unable to endure the sight of His dear one in sorrow. So He has come back to comfort her. How could He delay, when invoked with such ardent desires? And seeing that during His absence she has been faithful in the performance of good works and diligent in the pursuit of spiritual profit, inasmuch as she has bidden her daughters, the young maidens, to compass her about with the fruits and flowers of virtue, therefore is He now returned to her with a more generous largess of graces than on any former occasion. For with one of His arms He supports her drooping head, and is preparing to encircle her with the other and to clasp her to His Bosom. Happy the soul that rests on the Bosom of Christ and reposes in the arms of the Word! *' His Left Hand is under my head, and His Right Hand embrace me." Observe how she does not say, "His Right Hand embraces me," but "His Right Hand shall embrace me." By this we are given to understand that, far from showing herself ungrateful for the first grace received, she even anticipates the second with her thanksgiving.

Learn from the Spouse, my brethren, to be neither slow nor slack in expressing your gratitude; learn to render thanks for every favour bestowed. "Consider diligently what is set before your face," so that none of the gifts of God, the ordinary no more than the extraordinary, the least no more than the greatest, may fail to be duly and gratefully acknowledged. Remember that we are ordered to "gather up the fragments, lest they be lost." That is to say, we are required to return thanks for even the very smallest of God's favours. For we always lose the benefit of divine graces when we neglect to requite them with thanksgiving. Ingratitude is the enemy of the soul, the extinguisher of merits, the destroyer of virtues, the waster of benefits. Ingratitude is a burning wind that dries up the fountains of piety, and the dews of mercy, and the springs of grace.¹ Therefore it is that the Spouse hastens to give thanks as soon as she experiences the grace of the Left Hand, without waiting for the plenitude which belongs to the Right. For after mentioning that her Bridegroom's Left Hand is under her head, she does not say, in the present, that she is, but in the future, that she shall be embraced with His Right Hand.

But, my brethren, what are we to understand by the Right Hand and the Left Hand of the heavenly Bridegroom, of the Word of God? Surely even of that which is called the word of man we would not say that it is divided in itself into such a variety of corporeal parts, or that it possesses a plurality of material members distinct from each other and distinguishing the whole into right side and left. Much less, therefore, does the Word of God, Itself very God, admit any diversity of what kind soever; for It is what is, as simple in Its nature to the exclusion of parts, as It is in essence unique to the exclusion of number. For the Word is that Wisdom of God of Which it is written, "And of His Wisdom there is no number." Now that which excludes from itself all variety and distinction is necessarily incomprehensible, and by consequence ineffable. Where, then, I ask, shall we find words with which we may worthily describe that awful Majesty, speak of It with propriety, or define It accurately? However, I shall express as well as I can whatever little of that infinite Object I am enabled dimly to apprehend by the light of the Holy Spirit. We are taught by the example of the holy fathers, and by the custom of the inspired authors, that it is permissible to borrow suitable images from the things we know, wherewith to represent to ourselves the perfections of God; and instead of coining new words, to weave from the old a proper and becoming vesture for the ideas thus acquired. Otherwise we should commit the absurdity of attempting to explain the unknown by the unknown.

Therefore, since by right and left are wont to be designated prosperity and adversity, it seems to me that the Left Hand of the Word may be understood here as signifying His threatenings of chastisement, and His Right as representing the promise of the kingdom. There are times, my brethren, when the servile fear of punishment weighs heavy upon the soul. Whilst this is the case, the Left Hand of the Beloved should be described rather as over than as under her head; for so long as she is thus affected she certainly cannot say with truth, "His Left Hand is under my head." But if she mounts higher, and exchanges the spirit of servitude for the more worthy disposition which makes obedience spontaneous, so that she is now more drawn by the hope of heaven than driven by the terror of hell, or, better still, makes the love of the good for its own sake the motive of her actions, then without doubt she will be able to say, "His Left Hand is under my head." For she has now lifted her head above the slavish fear of chastisement, which is in the Left Hand, and has attained to a better and nobler disposition of mind. Nay, by the force of her worthy desires, she is even drawing near to the Right Hand, which holds the promises, as the Psalmist says, speaking to the Lord, "At Thy Right Hand are delights even to the end." Therefore she has conceived an assured hope which she expresses in the confident anticipation, "And His Right Hand shall embrace me."

Consider now, with me, my brethren, whether a soul in such dispositions, and raised to such a height of blissful love, may not also apply to herself the words of the Psalmist, and sing with security, "In peace in the self -same, I will sleep and I will rest"; especially since she has the same reason for her peace as that assigned in the words which follow, "For Thou, O Lord, singularly hast settled me in hope." The case is this. So long as the soul is influenced by the spirit of servitude she has but little hope and an excessive amount of fear. For her, as appears sufficiently manifest, there is no possibility of either rest or peace whilst her conscience is thus wavering between security and alarm; and the less so, inasmuch as terror predominates and tortures her above measure, for "fear hath pain." Such a soul, consequently, cannot say sincerely, "In peace in the self-same, I will sleep and I will rest," because she is not as yet able to make her own the acknowledgment which succeeds, "For Thou, O Lord, singularly hast settled me in hope." But when, little by little, fear begins to fail and hope to wax strong under the gradually growing influence of grace; when at length that stage is reached at which charity rising up in Its might, runs to the help of the sister 'virtue and casteth out fear," does it not seem to you my brethren, that this soul is now ■' singularly settled in hope, and may therefore sing with the Psalmist "In peace m the self-same, I wiU sleep and I wUl rest "?

"If you sleep among the midst of lots," says holy

David, you shall be as the wings of a dove covered with silver. By these words, as I think, he designs to teach us that the intervening space between fear and assurance is occupied by hope, wherein the mind or the conscience most sweetly reposes, reclining at ease on the soft couch of charity. And possibly there is another reference to this intermediate place in a subsequent verse of this Canticle of Canticles, where in the description of Solomon's litter we read, amongst other things, "The midst he covered with charity for the daughters of Jerusalem." For the soul which feels liierself to be singularly settled in hope," can no longer jierve m fear, but thenceforward reposes in charity 50 the Spouse rests and slumbers, since it is said with regard to her, "I adjure you, O ye daughters of Jerusalem, by the roes and the harts of the fields, that you tir not up nor make the beloved to wake till she please "J marvellous and unspeakable condescension! That the iVory of God should make the contemplative soul rest upon His own Bosom, and, not content with this hould deign to defend her against the incursions of are, to protect her from the disquiet of her natural activities, and from the weariness of worldly distractions and should even take precautions to prevent her being awakened until she herself pleases! But must not now attempt a discussion of this verse. Instead of treating it in a superficial manner at the end ot a sermon already long enough, I will rather hold rt over to serve as the text of the morrow's discourse, in order that words so full of sweetness may not suffer n the exposition from any want of due digence. Not that even then we shall be "sufficient to think anything of ourselves, as of ourselves," especially concerning a subject so noble, so excellent, so transcendently sublime "but all our sufficiency is from God the Bridegroom of the Church. Jesus Christ Our Lord. Who is over all things, God blessed for ever. Amen.

Footnotes

1. "Ingratitudo inimica est animae, exinanitio meritorum, virtutum dispersio, beneficiorum perditio. Ingratitudo ventus urens, siccans sibi fontem pietatis, rorem misericordiae, fluenta gratiae." Compare with the following from St. Augustine (Soliloq. An., cap. 18): "Ingratitudo . . . est radix totius mali spiritualis, et ventus quidam desiccans et urens omne bonum, obstruens fontem divinae misericordiae super hominem." And with this from St. Laurence Justinian, "Grande prorsus malum est ingratitudo, quae divinae bonitatis exsiccat fontem, hominum benevolentiam dirimit, spoliat donis, dignitate privat" (De regim. praelat., cap. xxi.).—(Translator.) ↩