Christopher Thomas
Sermon for Fifth Sunday after Pentecost, Year A – 7/5/20
Genesis 24:34-38, 42-49, 58-67
Song of Songs 2:8-13
Romans 7:15-25a
Matthew 11:16-19, 25-30
“Arise, my love, my fair one,
and come away;
for now the winter is past,
the rain is over and gone.
The flowers appear on the earth;
the time of singing has come,
and the voice of the turtledove
is heard in our land.
The fig tree puts forth its figs,
and the vines are in blossom;
they give forth fragrance.
Arise, my love, my fair one,
and come away!”
The Song of Songs.
The song that stands above and beyond all songs. The song that necessitates enshrinement in Holy Writ, inclusion in our sacred canon.
The Song of Songs!
What is this jewel of poetic mastery that is sandwiched in between tales of exceptional heroism, tribal conflict, political disputes, royal intrigue, religious reforms, and divine judgment? Where did this come from? Who knew it was there? Did you? I did not!
I come from a long Episcopal background where emotions get hidden somewhere between the brimstoned fires of hell and the lusts of the flesh. We heard of neither, thankfully, on sultry, steamy south Louisiana Sunday mornings at that little green church named Trinity. And since there were no bibles in the pew backs, only pew sheets, young eyes had not the slightest chance of garnering a glance at something so racy, so saucy, so bawdy, as a biblical book called, “Song of Songs.”
Truth be told, although I am patently grateful for so many things I did not receive in my Episcopal upbringing, one of the things I did not receive that might have been helpful was a working knowledge of this book called The Bible. And so, I made it to seminary (at 42, mind you) having no real idea what or where to find “Song of Songs” in the Bible.
However, when a course was offered called “An exegesis of the Song of Songs,” by Dr. Tim Robinson, I knew enough to know I had to have a part of that! I have this funny way of knowing where the good stuff is going to be! This was one of those, “What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas,” kinds of classes! And I was not disappointed.
If you don’t know the Song of Songs, you just simply must treat yourself. It is some of the most beautiful, intimate love poetry to be found anywhere, filled with sensuality, longing, playfulness, and affection. Song of Songs is about our very human nature, our deepest desires, and our longings, to be connected, to something that is not we. There is acknowledgment of the reality that alone we are not wholly fulfilled; that we ache and long to be joined to something outside of ourselves, to other humans, to nature, to the rest of Creation, and ultimately, and most importantly, to our Creator.
“Listen! My lover!
Look! Here he comes, leaping across the mountains,
bounding over the hills.
My lover is like a gazelle or a young stag.
Look! There he stands behind our wall,
gazing through the windows,
peering through the lattice.”
Who hasn’t experienced the thrill, the danger, the titillation, the wonderment of hearing the approach of that person you so long to know, to be joined to, in union as one? “Ah, sweet mystery of life, at last I’ve found you!” It may have been many years ago, but remember with me! It’s enough to make your heart skip a beat!
It is in that realization that want, that deep longing and desire that we realize that the centeredness of the universe does not in fact reside within, me, but beyond, me. I/me/my/mine is useless without you/your/yours. I cannot be me without you. Our hearts together become one in song, in THE Song. The Song of Songs!
Now that “I” and that “you” can be any of a combination of God’s great creation, even God, God’s self. It has been posited that Song of Songs is a great love story between the very first human lovers, between God and God’s people, between God and God’s Church, you name it. The Song is a testament to desire. My and our deep longing to overcome an individuality that bursts through in unity.
“Arise, my love, my fair one,
and come away with me!”
My heart longs, no aches, for us to be together, to touch, to kiss, to share space, to breathe each other’s breath, to take each other in, in symbiotic ways, to feel each other’s very skin. To just, be…
And yet…
“I do not understand my own actions. I don’t do what I want (what I desire); I do what I don’t want to do. Now, if I do what I do not want, I agree that the law is good. But in fact it is no longer I that do it, but sin (ah, sin, we’re coming back to that!) that dwells within me. For I know that nothing good dwells within me, that is, in my flesh. I can will what is right, but I cannot do it. For I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I do. Now if I do what I do not want, it is no longer I that do it, but sin (again!) that dwells within me.”
Oh, I can only imagine what Paul must’ve thought of the Song of Songs! Paul’s tug of war was in some ways different, and yet so similar. Desire. Longing. Deep want. I want to do what’s right.
Let’s make no mistake about Paul’s definition of sin. It’s not about infractions. Paul’s talking about sin in terms of relationship to God. His heart’s desire is this deep longing to be in communion with God. And yet, he just can’t seem to will, to leverage himself into it, despite his best human efforts. The relationship goes astray every time the individual takes priority over the other. My desire is to be in unity with you, but then my own selfishness takes over. (As Flip Wilson’s character “Geraldine” used to say, “Gurl, the devil made me do it!”)
Our union with God, with others, is broken, sinfulness, when we slip back into the all-too-human construct that we as individuals are the center of the universe, that we created it all, that we don’t need others that we don’t need to wear a mask, or care what happens to anyone else. That, is sinfulness in ways that are much more detrimental than any individual action we might commit.
We are created and designed to be in unity, with each other, and with our God who created us. That innate human desire that drives us toward that, the desire that is so artfully and artistically laid out in the Song of Songs, is crucial to helping us overcome our own self-centeredness. God draws us into this longingness with and for others, and for God, to draw us out of that selfishness, into radical otherness.
And that, my friends, is what I believe we are so starved for in this time of COVID-19, Corona-tide.
The great loss that we now share in common, that each of us bears.
Our deepest desire and longing, our ache is to be together, as one. Like the gazelle, I catch glimpses of my lover, you, each of you, in our zoom meetings, in our FaceTimes, in phone calls, in all the very fleeting ways that I am reminded that we are one. And it is simply NOT ENOUGH!
And so, this morning, we take a step forward toward unification with our lover, our lovers, reunion with God and with each other, as we finally find a way to outsmart this virus that has necessitated our unselfish parting that has come between us. We join together again in this most important identifying act that says we are one bread, one Body, the Body of Christ, united together in a most holy union of faith across all time, and, maybe more importantly, across all space.
Our greatest desire, our ache and longing, is to be together, like the lovers in the Song of Songs. For now, we take delight in those fleeting glimpses and glances that say, “Yes, they are there, loving and longing for me still!” Think of how sweet the day will be when we can breathe in each other’s air, the life-giving nature of the Holy Spirit. I think we will fully appreciate each other in new and unending ways!
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.
Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!
Amen.
