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My love affair, so to speak, with the Song of Songs began in the
seminary during a retreat held about one month into my first theology year.
Prior to seminary, I was a teacher and Religion Department chairman for
12 years at a small Catholic school. These were perhaps the happiest years of
my life. But the call to priesthood was always present, even if only in the
background.
I had entered a religious order after high school, but after 6 years of
homophobia, I left. Upon attempting to enter the diocesan priesthood in my
home state, I was thwarted repeatedly by my formed order for reasons never
told to me. "Confidentiality" was the reason given. "Justice" was the virtue
denied. So began my 12 year sojourn, not in a desert, but an oasis where the
needs and struggles and joys of adolescence instructed me, challenged me to
grow in my theological and relational outlook. God became larger, breaking
out of the narrow confines I had unknowingly secluded her in. Eventually, in
1996, through the intervention of my dear, departed bishop, the old file on
me was destroyed, and I was accepted into the seminary.
Now, one month into the program, I found myself alone in the chapel,
asking Jesus to help me love him as he desired to be loved by me. There, in
the silence, a voice within me said to read the Song of Songs. I knew of the
book, but had never given this song of heterosexual love much thought. So I
flipped to the book and began to read and read and re-read, and finally wept
for joy! This is what I had been looking for. This book, with minor
adjustments for gender consideration, contained the depth of intimacy that
had been missing in my relationship with Jesus. Love had always been there,
but herein my hands was a call , passionate and erotic, to an even deeper
love.
I offer the following meditations out
of a deeply humbling appreciation for the love and compassionate patience
Jesus has shown me. May these words on the Song of Songs, in the end, be
multiple ways of saying "I love you" to him whose passion for me, for all of
us, fragile words can scarcely convey.
A kiss, the most basic and universal expression of love, caring,
friendship and passion. Here, the Beloved specifies that she wants the kisses
of his mouth. She does not want safety. She does not want a sterile
expression of affection. She desires to be sated only by his lips. This
kiss will be the prelude to the symphony of love-making more intoxicating and
delicious to know than the taste of the sweetest wine.
Jesus earnestly desires to make love to us. For GLBT people, who live
our lives constantly being told that the means by which we physically
demonstrate our love and longing for another human being is "sick",
"immoral", and "disordered", this revelation of divine intimate longing is at
once both jarring and liberating. It means that my sexuality is known and
accepted by Jesus. It means that my sexuality poses no threat to him, no
cause for anxiety, shame, guilt or fear. It means that through my sexuality,
through what others deem "ungodly", Jesus wishes to come into my life.
Through my sexuality, he wants me to experience him, to know his tenderness,
his caresses, his embrace.
"Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth." The next line begins, "For
your love-making..."Is the Beloved seeking permission from someone when she
says "Let him"?
If so, from who?
Perhaps she is speaking to herself, and this exclamation is a reminder
for her, after a possible absence from her Lover, exactly why he is her
Lover; because of the sweet, all-encompassing nature of his love. She is
reminding, urging herself, to once again allow herself to be loved, to return
and drink deeply of his love for her. Maybe the need for some kind of
re-commitment to that love is necessary if their relationship is to remain
as passionate and intimate as it has been (how else would she know his
love-making was sweeter than wine?).
Our relationship with Jesus must be entered into afresh daily, not
starting over from scratch, but consciously embraced each day so as to avoid
the threat of the cold and the rote, the very real danger of taking Jesus for
granted.
The name and person of Jesus, so often used to justify our oppression,
is, in truth, a soothing, healing oil for our wounds, wounds most often
inflicted by religion and society.
It is truly a blessing to be able to love another. And when someone has
become an integral part of our lives, there is nothing about them that does
not serve to stoke the flames of love: their walk, the sound of their voice,
their laughter, the gentleness of their breathing in sleep, even their scent.
The smell of the Beloved can trigger memories and bring desire and comfort.
But his requires a willingness to be intimate and allow the other access to
Our lives, our souls. It requires that we run the risk of being vulnerable.
It is this access that Jesus needs and desires of us in order that the oil of
his presence can calm, refresh, and begin to heal the wounds of fear and
internalized homophobia that can so easily and unknowingly find their
way into even the seemingly most integrated heart.
Just saying a lover's name brings them to mind. Every movement of their
body, every look, every memory. Their eyes glow brightly once more, their
touch quivers the flesh with delight, their voice calms and excites, all
because of the simple, yet profound power of mentioning their name.
How much more so should it be with Jesus? Jesus, "Yeshua", "God saves".
But how has he saved us? "The Word became flesh and lived among us. He
saves us by becoming us, in every way but that which renders us less than what
we were called to be and created to be: children of a loving, prodigal God.
He became like us in all things but sin.
His becoming human and embracing our enfleshed reality has thus saved
and sanctified us. The body is no longer a source of shame, disgrace, or
derision, for it is through a fragile, beautiful human body that God most
intimately touched the world she called into being. Through footstep and
spittle, through words and sighs, through the baptismal liquids of river
water and carpenter's blood. both the earth and its' inhabitants have been
touched, hallowed, saved. And the mystery of it all is present to us whenever
the name of Jesus is uttered with the affection of a Lover for their Beloved.
In coming to truly know Jesus, the important thing is to allow oneself to
be drawn by him; not so much to grasp the hand of Jesus Christ, but to have
the courage to be grasped by him! The Beloved says to her Lover, "Let us run." Yet all too often we spend our time running away from rather than with
Jesus. I believe one reason for this is that we rarely are helped to believe
that we are loved by him who wishes to be "our joy and our gladness". It is
very difficult to hear the good news of love sweeter than wine while being
constantly assailed by the cacophony of words dripping bitter gall. But
Jesus assures us that he will never turn anyone away who comes to him. How
can he? He still bears reminders of the depth of his love, even in his
glorified body, reminders in his wrists, feet, side, and back. That is how
far he is willing to go for our love. And those wounds should be enough for
us to exclaim, "How right it is to love you."
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The Song of Songs : A New Translation With an Introduction and Commentary Ariel Bloch (Commentary), Chana Bloch (Commentary) Levi Ben Gershom
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