Sermon LXVII. On Mystical Eructation and on Grace, Antecedent and Consequent

"My Beloved to me, and I to Him."

"My Beloved to me, and I to Him." For some time, my brethren, I have been occupied with the words of the Bridegroom. May He now grant me His help that I may be able to explain in a fitting manner this speech of His Spouse, unto His glory and our salvation. For what she says here is not so plain and easy that I am sufficient of myself to examine and discuss it worthily, without any need of His light to guide me. Her words, indeed, are as pregnant with meaning and as mysteriously profound as they are full of the sweetness of grace. To what shall I liken them? For the present, they may be compared to a certain kind of aliment excelling in three qualities: pleasing to the palate, nourishing as food, efficacious as medicine. Such, such, I say, is every sentence that faUs from the lips of the Spouse. For by the sweetness of its sound it conciliates our affections; by its abounding wealth of meaning it nourishes and strengthens our minds; by its dark depth of mystery it bewilders our intellects in proportion as it exercises them, and thus in a wonderful way heals the swelling of the knowledge that "puffeth up." If anyone of those who seem to themselves to know something, should chance to apply himself earnestly to the study of such texts, when he perceived the power of his genius failing and "every understanding being brought into captivity," would he not humble himself, and feel compelled to cry out in the words of the Psalmist, "Thy knowledge is become wonderful to me: it is high and I cannot reach to it"? And here, at the very commencement of her words, how much of sweetness is there not expressed! For consider in what manner she begins. "My Beloved to me" she says, "and I to Him." This may appear to you simple enough, because it sounds so sweetly. However, we shall see about that afterwards.

Now, therefore, beginning with love, she proceeds to discourse about her Beloved, thus indicating that, like the Apostle, she knows nothing except Him Whom she loves. It is sufficiently evident of Whom she is speaking, but to whom is not so clear. For it is not possible to suppose that He of Whom she speaks is the same to whom her words are addressed, since He is no longer with her. There can be no doubt about this, because she presently seems to call Him back, and, as it were, to cry after Him, "Return, my Beloved." Hence we are led to the conjecture that, having completed what He had to say to His Spouse, the Bridegroom, according to His custom, took His departure, whilst she remained behind, yet still speaking of Him Who is never absent from her affection. So indeed it is. She has kept Him on her lips, Who could not withdraw Himself from her heart, even when He withdrew from her His sensible presence. WOiat issues from her lips, proceeds from her heart; "for out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh." Therefore she speaks of her Beloved, as one that is herself truly beloved, and truly deserving of love. "because she loveth much." But I^desire"|to know with whom she is speaking, since I understand well enough of Whom. For my part, I am unable to conceive whom else she could be addressing (if we suppose her to be addressing any at all) except it be the young maidens who can never be absent from their mother's side when the Bridegroom leaves her. But we may also suppose— and with greater probability, as I think-that she has uttered those words to herself and not to any other. This conjecture is rendered the more likely by the abrupt and disconnected character of her discourse, which is plainly too incoherent to convey her thought to a hearer, the object we have principally in view in conversing together. "My Beloved to me," she says, "and I to Him." Nothing more! The sentence is suspended. Or rather it is not suspended, but fails utterly. The hearer also is in a state of suspense. Instead of receiving instruction, he has only his interest excited.

What is this which she says, "My Beloved to me and I to Him"? We know not what she says because we cannot read her thoughts. O holy soul, tell us what thou meanest by the words, "My Beloved to me and I to Him"? What, I ask, is this giving and receiving, this interchange of gifts which is so sweetly and so lovingly taking place between^ you? He to thee and thou again to Him. But what? Is it the same thing which He bestows on thee that thou renderest back to Him, or is it something different? If it is to us thou art here addressing thyself, if thou speakest for our instruction, express more clearly what thou dost mean. "How long wilt thou hold our souls in suspense?" Or art thou, like the Prophet Isaias, keeping thy secret to thyself? So it is, my brethren. It is her heart that has spoken, not her understanding, and consequently her speech is not for our understanding. Then wherefore? For no purpose at all, except that, being filled with marvellous delight and inflamed with most ardent love by the longed-for colloquy with her Bridegroom, since He left off speaking she has been unable either to keep silent altogether or to express what she feels within her. For it is not to manifest her emotions that she has spoken, but simply because she cannot remain silent. Out of the abundance of her heart her mouth has spoken, but not according to her heart's abundance. The emotions have their own proper language whereby they express themselves, even against our will. Thus fear, for example, has its peculiar tremulous expression, sorrow prefers a mournful medium, whilst love selects the sweetest words. Will anyone pretend that the groans of those in pain, the sighs and sobbings of those in sorrow, the sudden and involuntary cries of those who are struck or frightened, and the eructations of satiety —will anyone say that these manifestations are made by use and custom, or excited by reason, or ordei ed by deliberation, or fashioned by premeditation? Is it not certain that instead of obeying the will of the soul they rather burst forth spontaneously? Thus, when love, especially divine love, is so strong and ardent that it cannot any longer be contained within the soul, it pays no attention to the order, or the sequence, or the correctness of the words through which it pours itself out, or whether they are few or many, provided only that they are in nowise opposed to its own interests. Sometimes it dispenses with words altogether; sometimes it makes use of no other means of expression save the mute language of sighs, in which it finds a sufficient vent. Hence it is that the Spouse, burning with an incredible ardour of divine love, in her anxiety to obtain some kind of outlet for the intense heat which consumes her, does not consider what she speaks or how she speaks. Under the constraining influence of charity, she belches forth rather than utters whatever rises to her lips. And is it any wonder that she should eructate who is so full and so inebriated with the wine of holy love?

Examine, my brethren, every verse of this epiihalamium, from the very first to that now under discussion, and see if you can discover amongst all the visitations and colloquies which have been recorded, anyone wherein the Bridegroom has given Himself to His Bride so unreservedly as here; anyone wherein she has been allowed to hear from His lips, not alone so many but also such sweet words. She who has thus satisfied her desire with good things, as the Psalmist says, ought we to be surprised that she expresses her feelings rather by eructation than by speech? And if she seems to you to utter words, believe them to be the belchings of satiety, unadorned and unpremeditated. For the Spouse "thinks it not robbery" to appropriate to herself the language of the Royal Prophet, where he says, "My heart hath eruc-tated a good word," because she is filled with the same Spirit Who inspired him. "My Beloved to me, and I to Him." There is no apparent connection between these words: the sentence is incomplete. But what matter? It is not the expression of thought, but the eructation of love. And why would you seek in such a spontaneous outburst for the grammatical arrangement and sequence of words, or for the rules and ornaments of rhetoric? Do you yourselves lay down laws and regulations for your own eructations? No, for they defy your authority, and reject your control, and consult neithf r your convenience nor your pleasure. Of themselves they break forth from your interior, anticipating both your will and your knowledge, and are rather forced from you than freely emitted. Nevertheless, eructations possess an odour, pleasant or offensive, according to the various qualities of the vessels whence they proceed. For "a good man out of a good treasure bringeth forth good things," and an evil man out of an evil treasure bringeth forth evil things. A good vessel is the Spouse of my Lord, and good also is the odour she exhales.

I give thanks to Thee, Lord Jesus, for that Thou hast, in Thy condescension, permitted me to enjoy even so much as the sweetness of her fragrance; because "the whelps also eat of the crumbs that fall from the table of their masters." To me, I confess, the eructation of Thy beloved Spouse yields a pleasant odour; and glad am I to be admitted to any participation, however small, of her plenitude. She "eructates" for me "the memory of the abundance of Thy sweetness"; and in a certain mysterious manner, I seem to scent, as it were, something ineffable of Thy gracious kindness and love in the words, "My Beloved to me and I to Him." Let her, as she deserves, "feast and rejoice in Thy sight and be delighted with gladness." But let her, like the Apostle, be so "transported in mind" that she may be "sober" for us. Let her, I say, "be inebriated with the plenty of Thy house," and "make her drink of the torrent of Thy pleasure." But when she has been filled and satisfied, let her not forget, I implore of Thee, to favour my poor soul with at least a slight scent of her eructation. Moses too has eructated to my advantage, and I can perceive a pleasant odour of the Creator's almighty power in his eructation, namely, "In the beginning God created heaven and earth." The Prophet Isaias again has benefited me by his belching, and exhales the most sweet odour of redeeming mercy, where he thus breaks out, "He hath delivered His Soul unto death, and was reputed with the wicked; and He hath borne the sins of many, and hath prayed for the transgressors," that they might not perish. Where else can you find so rich a perfume of mercy? Equally excellent is the odour given out by the eructation of Jeremias, and of him who says, "My heart hath eructated a good word." For every one of these was full of the Holy Ghost, and, belching from satiety, "filled all things with good." But you desire to hear the eructation of Jeremias? I have not forgotten it. I was about to invite your attention to it. Here it is: "It is good to wait with silence for the salvation of God." These are his words, if I mistake not. Take them and inhale their perfume. Does not the delicious fragrance of remunerating justice which they diffuse surpass the sweetness of balsam? He tells me to be patient for justice sake and to await my reward in the future, not to accept it in the present life; because the reward of justice is not the prosperity of this world but the "salvation of the Lord." "If it make any delay," says another Prophet, "wait for it." And lest I should begin to murmur, I am reminded that "it is good to wait with silence." Therefore, I will follow the Prophet's advice. With Micheas, "I will wait for God my Saviour"

But I am only a sinner and have yet a long way to go, because "salvation is far from sinners." However, I will not complain. I will try meantime to find my consolation in its odour. "The just shall rejoice in the Lord," enjoying the taste of that good which I am only suffered to smell. That which the just already contemplates, the same is the object of the sinner's hope, and it is by hope that he inhales the odour thereof. "For the expectation of the creature waiteth for the revelation of the sons of God." On the other hand, to contemplate is to "taste and see that the Lord is sweet." But perhaps it would be more true to say that hope belongs to the just man and fruition to the blessed, since it is written that '* the expectation of the just is joy." As for the sinner, he has no expectation. Indeed he is a sinner for no other reason than because he is not only taken up with, but is also content with, the goods of time, and hopes for nothing hereafter, turning a deaf ear to the voice which calls out to him, "Expect Me, saith the Lord, in the day of My resurrection that is to come." Hence a just man was Simeon, because he had expectation, and already, in the Spirit, caught the fragrance of Christ, before it became his privilege to adore Him in the flesh. And not only just, but blessed also, since by the odour of expectation he was brought to the taste of contemplation. He has told us this himself where he says, "And my eyes have seen Thy Salvation." Abraham too was a just man, for he also hoped that he might see the day of the Lord; and he was not "confounded in his expectation," because he "saw it and was glad" And the apostles were just, since to them it was said, "And you yourselves (be) like to men who wait for their Lord."

Why should not David's name be added to this list of just men? For it is he who has declared, "With expectation I have waited for the Lord." He came fourth in the preceding catalogue also, my catalogue of "eructators," and I had almost forgotten him. He it is who hath "opened his mouth and drawn in the Spirit," and being filled therewith, not only eructated of his fulness but even burst into song. O good Jesus, with what sweetness has he not enchanted my senses of smell and hearing, by his belching and his singing of that "oil of gladness "wherewith "God, Thy God, hath anointed Thee above Thy fellows," telling me how "myrrh and stacte and cassia perfume Thy garments, from the ivory houses," and how "the daughters of kings have delighted Thee in Thy glory "! Oh, how I wish that Thou wouldst grant me the privilege of meeting so great a prophet and so intimate a friend of Thine on the "day of solemnity and gladness," when he comes forth from Thy bridal-chamber, singing his own marriage-song to the music of the psaltery and the harp, "flowing with delights," sprinkle id with and redolent of "all the powders of the perfumer "! On that day, or rather in that hour, — for whenever such a favour is granted it lasts no longer than an hour, and perhaps not even so long, but only for half an hour,¹ agreeably to what is written, "There was silence in heaven, as it were for half an hour" — in that hour, I say, "my mouth shall be filled with gladness and my tongue with joy," because I shall recognise — I do not say in every psalm — but in every verse of every psalm, an eructation surpassing all aromatic spices in the sweetness of its fragrance. What can be more odoriferous than that eructation of St. John, *' In the beginning was the Word," savouring to me of the eternity, the generation, and the Divinity of the Word? But how shall I speak of the belch ings of St. Paul? With what a delicious perfume they embalmed the whole world! For he was "the good odour of Christ in every place." Even those "secret words "of his, although he does not utter them to my hearing, he yet proposes sufficiently to arouse my desires, in order that I may enjoy at least the fragrance of what I am not permitted to hear. And indeed, it seems to me that the mystery he thus hides from us somehow pleases us the more, in proportion as we are the less able to fathom it; and we long for it with greater is very short. If half an hour, that would be a long time. I do not think that I have ever been so long." Yet she adds, "It is extremely difficult to know how long, because the senses are in suspense. But I think that at any time it cannot be very long before some one of the faculties recovers itself.... As the will is calm, it entrances them again: they are quiet for another moment and then they recover themselves once more. In this way some hours may be and are spent in prayer.... But the state of complete absorption, together with the utter rest of the imagination lasts only a short time" {Life, c. xviii.). Suarez (t. xiv. 1. ii. c. x. n. 12) gives two reasons in explanation of the fact, viz., the mind's natural love of change and the severe strain implied in a prolonged and fixed attention to a purely spiritual object. St. Thomas {Sum. Theol., II. ii.eagerness because it is withheld. You may notice the Spouse acting towards us here in somewhat the same manner as the Apostle. For, like him, in this present verse she neither fully discloses her secret nor does she altogether pass it over in silence. She permits us to inhale its odour, but the taste thereof, either because of our unworthiness or because of our incapacity, she apparently thinks it right to withhold from us for the present.

"My Beloved to me, and I to Him." There can be no doubt, my brethren, that the mutual love of the Bridegroom and Bride burns as a fire in this passage. And in that reciprocity of affection we behold the supreme felicity of the one and the amazing condescension of the Other. For not between equals is the loving union or embrace here in question. But what is the gift which the Spouse boasts of having, by the privilege of singular love, received from her Bridegroom and bestowed upon Him in turn? That is a secret which no one can pretend to understand fully, except those who, by the perfect purity of their souls and bodies, have deserved to experience something similar in themselves. For it is a mystery of love. Hence it is not by discourse of reason we are to attain to it, but by conformity of will. But how few there are who can say with the Apostle, "But we all, beholding the glory of the Lord with open face, are transformed into the same image, from glory to glory, as by the Spirit of the Lord"!

However, I will try to present what is said in our text in a somewhat more intelligible form: yet without presuming to trench upon that secret which is the prerogative of the Spouse, and access to which is in the meantime unlawful, particularly for sinners such as we are. I have consequently to put before you something which, because of its being familiar, shall be the better adapted to the ordinary capacity, and shall at the same time give coherence to the words of our text and "understanding to little ones" To me, then, it seems to be enough for our gross and unenlightened intelligence, if with the words "My Beloved to me "we understand the verb "attends" Thus the sentence wiU run, "My Beloved attends to me, and I to Him" It must not be supposed, however, that I am the only one or the first to whom this has occurred. Long before me the Psalmist gave expression to the same thought in the words, "With expectation I have waited for the Lord, and He hath attended to me." Here you have explicitly mentioned the attending of the Lord to His Prophet. And you have also the Prophet's attending to the Lord, evidently implied in what he says, '* With expectation I have waited for the Lord." For he who expects attends. Indeed to attend is nothing else than to expect. There is no difference in the sense, therefore, between what the Psalmist says here and the utterance of the Spouse, and very little even in the words which they employ, except that the Prophet inverts the order of the Bride, by putting in the second place what she places first and conversely.

Of the two it seems to me that the Spouse has spoken the moro correctly. She does not give the prominence to her merit, but begins with an acknowledgment of the divine beneficence, and confesses that she has been prevented by the grace of holy love. This is certainly very proper, because, as the Apostle says, "who hath

II. first given to Him and recompense shall be made him?"

St. John gives us his mind on this subject where he tells us in his Epistle, "In this is charity; not as though we had loved God, but because He hath first loved us." But although the Psalmist makes no mention here of antecedent grace, he does not deny the grace which is consequent, neither is he silent concerning it. Yet, listen to a more manifest testimony of his, relating to the latter and taken from a different place, where he confesses, speaking to the Lord, "And Thy mercy will follow me all the days of my life." I will present you from the same Prophet with an equally clear and certain acknowledgment of prevenient grace^: "My God," he says, "His mercy shall prevent me."And again he prays to God in the words," Let Thy mercies speedily prevent us, for we are become exceeding poor." In a subsequent verse of this Canticle, the Spouse, unless I mistake, very beautifully repeats the words of our present text, but inverting the order of the parts and following the example of the Prophet. For she there says, "I to my Beloved, and my Beloved to me." Why this, my brethren? The reason is that she there wants to prove herself to be more full of grace, since she has now given up everything to grace, assigning to it both the beginning and the end. For how could she be full of grace, if there was anything in hei or belonging to her, which was not from grace? There is no room for grace in a soul already occupied by merit.² Therefore the confession that all her good is from grace proves that the soul which so confesses has the plenitude of grace. For if there is anything in her of her own, be it much or be it little, grace, of necessity, shall be so far excluded. Whatever room you make in yourselves for merit, you withdraw from grace. As for me, I want none of that merit which is an obstacle to grace. I abhor and disavow whatever of mine I discover in myself, in order that I may be my own, unless perchance that is most truly mine which truly makes me my own. It is grace that justifies me freely and so delivers me from the servitude of sin. For "where the Spirit is there is liberty."

Oh, the Synagogue, that senseless Spouse, who, contemning the justice of God, that is to say, the grace of the Bridegroom, wished rather to establish her own justice, refusing "to be subject to the law of God"! For this has she been repudiated, and is now a Spouse no longer. Her place has been given to the Church, to whom it has been said, "'I have espoused thee to Me in faith, I have espoused thee to Me in justice and judgment, and in mercy and in commiserations.' Thou hast not chosen Me, but it is I Who have chosen thee. Nor have I chosen thee because of any merits which I discovered in thee, but My choice anticipated thy merits. Consequently 'I have espoused thee to Me in faith,' and not in 'the works of the law.' 'I have espoused thee to Me in justice,' but in the justice which is from faith, not from the law. It remains then that thou shouldst judge a righteous judgment between Me and thee, the judgment in which I have espoused the to Me, and which, as thou knowest, was in nowise due to thy merit, but solely to My good pleasure. Now this is the judgment, that thou shouldst not extol thy merits, that thou shouldst not make a display of the 'works of the law,' that thou shouldst not boast of having borne the ' burden of the day and the heat/ because, as thou must understand, it is rather in faith and in the justice which is from faith, and in mercy, and in commiseration I have espoused thee to Me."

She who is the true Spouse will understand aright all these things, and will duly acknowledge both graces, first, the grace which is given first and by which she is prevented, secondly, that which follows and completes. Henco she says here, "My Beloved to me, and I to Him," attributing to His grace the beginning. In a following passage grace is assigned the consummation, where we find, "I to my Beloved, and my Beloved to me." Let us now try to ascertain what she means. by the words, "My Beloved to me." If we regard this expression as requiring to be completed by the addition of the verb "attend," as I have before suggested, and thus, as repeating what the Psalmist says, "With expectation I have waited for the Lord, and He hath attended to me." then it seems to me that the Spouse is here alluding to something ineffable, some exceedingly great prerogative. But a subject which deserves your best and fullest attention must not be proposed to ears and minds already wearied. If, therefore you have no objection, let us defer to another time this discussion. But the delay shall not be long. To-morrow I purpose to begin where I now leave off. Only do you pray that I may be preserved in the meantime from the inrush of distracting cares through the grace and mercy of the Bridegroom of the Church, Jesus Christ Our Lord, Who is over all things, God blessed for ever. Amen.

Footnotes

1. This assertion as to the brief duration of the purely contemplative act is found repeated often in the writings of the Saint. It is confirmed by the witness of St. Teresa, who says, "As it seems to me, the period of time, however long it may have been, during which the faculties of the soul are entranced, q. clxxx. a. 8) says, "Dicendum est quod nulla actio potest diu durare in sui summo. Summum autem contemplationis est ut attingat ad uniformitatem divinae contemplationis." — (Translator.) ↩

2. There is question here of merit acquired by merely human industry and independently of supernatural grace and faith, of the merit to which St. Paul alludes in the words, Now to him that worketh the reward is not according to grace, but according to debt" (Rom. v. 4). Where such merit exists, there is no room for grace, since the recompense is in no sense gratuitous but "according to debt." Supernatural merit, on the contrary, so far from excluding grace, is the fruit and effect of grace, and gives a title to a supernatural reward. In the words of the Council of Orange (529), "Debetur merces bonis operibus si fiant, sed gratia quae non debetur praecedit ut fiant" (can. 18). Cf. Suarez, t. x. l. xii. c. 1; also Bellarmin, In Ps. xxxi.—(Translator.) ↩