The Song of Songs
Daniel W. Hardy
University of Cambridge
The Genre of the Song
Considering the genre of the Song of Songs is
fascinating and important, and especially the
discussion about whether it is best seen as dream or
iconic. Undoubtedly, such discussions help us
'locate' this unusual book in a 'space' that
'mediates between historical, sensible existence and
transcendent experience', 'is an imaginative
expression shaped by prayer and the theological
traditions of the Bible' and 'witnesses to our
fragmentation and yet offers a glimpse of a higher
unity' (Ellen
Davis). In this case, references to God are
interwoven with those of inter-human relations in all
their complexity, and the difficulties of pursuing
them in the world.
Ultimately, however, any such 'space' or category
will need to be expanded if it is to do justice to
the Song itself. For the plot (if we can call it that
for the moment) has a greater spectrum of
concern, and throughout a much more dense
configuration, than such categories allow,
even when associated with such rich references to the
gardens as Ellen Davis suggests (Lovers' haven or
woman's body, Eden, the Temple) and their counterpart
in icons. Both in the spectrum of reference involved
in the Song, and in the density of its metaphorical
configuration, the Song escapes the inevitable
limitations of these, or perhaps all, specific
categories.
In the present Comment, we need to explore both of
these, without supposing that the 'range' of its
reference and the 'line' of the Song are simpler than
they are. What we will find is that while the depth
of its reference is far greater than first appears,
the breadth of the resonances found in the text is
also far wider. When the two are joined together, an
amazing conjunction of identity and intimacy appears.
This not only justifies the inclusion of the Song in
the Hebrew Scriptures, but also shows how the Song
enlarges awareness of the ways in which the Lord is
involved in our interaction with him and others, and
thereby makes a positive contribution to biblical
understanding.
Spectrum of Concern and Depth of Reference
The depth of reference found in the Song is first
seen in the 'him' whose kiss is longed for in 1.2.
Thereafter, and not least because of the scope of the
resonances of the metaphors used, it is never
altogether clear whether the 'he' or 'him' is a human
being, God himself or either one in the other. In
this ambiguity, there is a potential fusion between
the two, so that the Song always remains a human
expression but cannot properly be read only
naturalistically or humanistically. This is
especially important, since we all fall quickly into
such readings.
The depth of reference can also be seen in the
intensity of the references to 'him'. Here is one who
— it is said, apparently on good grounds — kisses,
loves, anoints, pours himself out ('your name is
perfume poured out') in an intensity of self-giving,
and is rightly responded to by exultation and
rejoicing. Here, in other words, is one whose glory
is also intimate, the fullness of whose identity is
intoxicating as it is poured out upon the other. And
the appropriate response is exultation by those who
likewise pour themselves out. Hence, what Alon Goshen-Gottstein
finds to be 'a controlling feature of the Rabbinic
application of the Song', praise, is entirely
suitable. The continuing feature of the
'conversation' between 'him' and those who respond,
is exultation and rejoicing, that is praise, a mutual
outpouring of joy and delight. This has a special
implication to which we will return later.
A Patterned Intensity
It is this intensity, furthermore, that makes for
the vigor of movement and expression found
consistently through the Song, as 'the voice of [the]
beloved comes 'leaping upon the mountains, bounding
over the hills… like a gazelle or a young stag',
lovingly bringing, sustaining and refreshing the
other who is 'faint with love' (2.4-7). The Song is
filled with intensity of movement and energy:
'Follow', 'Arise… and come away'. But the movement is
not continuous: there are repeated indications of the
need first to be prepared for such movement:
as the gazelles or wild does show, movement must be
preceded by readiness, as jumping is preceded by
crouching. 'I adjure you, O daughters of Jerusalem,
by the gazelles or the wild does: do not stir up or
awaken love until it is ready!' (2.7, 3.5, etc.)
This movement appears to have a particular
pattern. It is when the vigor is united with a
sense of direction that energy is
released. And this, as worked out during the Song, is
one of its most significant features. For what else
is the inner logic of the interaction of the two
chief figures as they are so passionately attracted
toward each other, than something that begins in
vigor, finds its direction and then moves
incessantly? This is at odds with Alon
Goshen-Gottstein's view that 'its uniqueness is a
function of its linguistic wealth…, and not the
story, the quality of love or its humanity.' It seems
to me that there is an inner logic to what occurs in
it that is very important, and constitutes the
substance of the book.
A Configuration of Metaphors
One of the striking features, however, is its
'linguistic wealth'; in this Goshen-Gottstein is
right. In the interaction of the two, comparisons
grow more wide-ranging and excessive.
4.1 How beautiful you are, my love, how
very beautiful! Your eyes are doves behind your
veil. Your hair is like a flock of goats, moving
down the slopes of Gilead. 2 Your teeth
are like a flock of shorn ewes that have come up
from the washing, all of which bear twins, and not
one among them is bereaved. 3 Your lips
are like a crimson thread, and your mouth is
lovely. Your cheeks are like halves of a
pomegranate behind your veil. 4 Your
neck is like the tower of David, built in courses;
on it hang a thousand bucklers, all of them shields
of warriors. 5 Your two breasts are like
two fawns, twins of a gazelle, that feed among the
lilies. 6 Until the day breathes and the
shadows flee, I will hasten to the mountain of
myrrh and the hill of frankincense. 7
You are altogether beautiful, my love; there is no
flaw in you.
Whether here or where she seeks for her beloved,
and must convince those around her to seek him, in
5.8 — 6.1 and (spoken by him) in the following
passage, there is a remarkable sequence of images —
sure to bring a laugh from those who read them
literally — that cumulatively persuade.
They persuade in a distinctive way. There is a
remarkable use of language, not as less than literal,
descriptive speech, but as more. It can be claimed,
as I have elsewhere, that metaphoric language is a
more basic and 'natural' use of language from which
literal/descriptive speech is derived, not the other
way around where metaphors are made to adorn literal
language. In that sense, it is a richer form of
expression concerned to open awareness, not only for
the one speaking (for whom interior and exterior,
private and public, are not disjoined but mutually
illuminating), but also for those spoken to. And,
furthermore, metaphors open an imaginative common
ground between speaker and spoken to. It is this that
occurs in the Song: as the beloved is indicated in
metaphors progressively excelling each other, others
share in imagining the excellence of the one spoken
of, and are convinced.
Sharing in this 'metaphoric field' is
self-involving. So the reader grows in the
understanding of 'what it's like to be in love', to
be utterly preoccupied with the one who is loved, to
be intimately aware of this one, even to the point of
subordinating oneself to whatever is needful for the
other. For the other it is the same. And they meet in
the utter abundance of their relationship, its
overwhelming stability and ever-new-ness. This is
why, in the Song, the culmination is where she
says:
6 Set me as a seal upon your heart, as a
seal upon your arm; for love is strong as death,
passion fierce as the grave. Its flashes are
flashes of fire, a raging flame. 7 Many
waters cannot quench love, neither can floods drown
it. If one offered for love all the wealth of his
house, it would be utterly scorned. (8.6-7)
A Double Range of Reference: Identity and
Involvement
Throughout the Song, there is a pervasive sense of
mystery about the identity of the beloved. One
possibility is that, as in Omid Safi's account
of Ahmad Ghazali's teachings on love, 'the
reality of love is not the same thing as the
words chosen to express that reality… "the
ideas of love are like virgins, and the hand of words
can not reach the hem of their skirt".' But in the
Song, there also seems to be a presumption of the
adequacy of the words used, as if the 'rising tide'
of metaphors can at least open a passionate awareness
of the excellent character of the beloved, even if
they cannot provide an indicative description. The
Song places readers in a dynamic and self-involving
field of metaphors, through which they learn the
identity of the beloved, not as an 'object' to be
known — or 'spoken about' — but as one with whom they
are most intimately involved. There is a close
resemblance here to the Lord who is both unspeakable
and yet whose identity is known through his
constitution of a 'people' (Exodus 3.11-15); the Lord
is acknowledged insofar as they behave as a people in
a manner fit for the promises he makes to them.
Simultaneously, therefore, the Song allows the
beloved to be mysterious and one with whom we may be
intimately involved. It also shows the 'inner logic'
— discussed earlier — found in such involvement. The
interaction of beloved and lover begins in
vigor, finds its direction and thereby
derives the 'energy' by which to move
incessantly toward the other. The clear implication
is that the infinite mystery of the Lord confers the
vigor, direction and energy by which — whether alone
or with others — we may move indefinitely toward an
ever-deeper interaction with this Lord. The infinite
identity of the Lord, like that of the beloved in the
Song, is only found in the most intimate involvement
with him. And the chief marks of this involvement are
exultation and rejoicing, a mutual outpouring of joy
and delight, but also 'weeping with those who
weep'.
This can even be put in stronger terms: the Song
shows that the most intense awareness of the Lord
requires, and occurs in, the deepest involvement with
the Lord in the full scope of life with each other in
the world, and vice versa. As we have already seen,
there is a particular 'logic' found there — of vigor,
direction and energy — which releases us for life
with each other. From the Christian point of view,
this is the triadic logic of God's life with us, from
which must come a conscience about each other and
about the world in which we live, with all its
poverty, weakness, and yearning.
9 Let love be genuine; hate what is
evil, hold fast to what is good; 10 love
one another with mutual affection; outdo one
another in showing honor. 11 Do not lag
in zeal, be ardent in spirit, serve the Lord.
12 Rejoice in hope, be patient in
suffering, persevere in prayer. 13
Contribute to the needs of the saints; extend
hospitality to strangers. 14 Bless those
who persecute you; bless and do not curse them.
15 Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep
with those who weep. 16 Live in harmony
with one another; do not be haughty, but associate
with the lowly; do not claim to be wiser than you
are. 17 Do not repay anyone evil for
evil, but take thought for what is noble in the
sight of all. 18 If it is possible, so
far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all.
(Romans 12:9-18)
© 2003, Society for
Scriptural Reasoning
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