A version of this post first appeared in Christian Century‘s “Theolog.”
It’s spring, and Richmond is busting out in lush green. White pompoms of elderberry blossoms are bustling with bees. Hard new figs are attached impossibly to smooth branches, and my grape vine sports countless tiny clusters of lime green nubbins. The cats stretch out in the sunshine to doze. And on Fridays, the kids across the alley fire up their grill. My whole body breathes, with every sense, and exhales in well-being. The luscious smell of sizzling burgers, the hoo-hoo of doves and squawking magpies, the heat (ah heat) of a southern, not-quite-summer sun, the tender crunch of sugar snap peas, and the riotous beauty of blood red teacup roses nestled among dripping white honeysuckle. With all five, physical senses buzzing, a sixth, the spiritual, shimmers. In spring, it seems perfectly right that the Bible would include a Song of Songs, also called the Song of Solomon.
But when I get around to teaching that book in my intro to Bible courses, it’s usually winter or still so cold that it feels like winter. And the whole thing seems shocking and out of place. The body typically gets short shrift in religious practice. And the Song of Songs is overlooked in favor of fasting and abstinence, elevation of the mind and soul, the eucharist rationed out in tiny thimble-shots of wine and quarter-sized wafer discs, a chilly church with measured liturgy and controlled ritual.
Yet the Bible tells also of a God of excess, drenching us with physical goodness and glorious too-much-ness, of feasting, music, and sex. Even sex. The Bible admits a place for the spiritual value of sensuousness. For no matter how you allegorize the book, the Song of Songs is still erotic love poetry. Some explain that it’s about God’s love for Israel; many Christians excuse its excesses as telling Jesus’ love for the Church. Okaaaaaay, but that’s some sexy love! Sight, smell, sound, taste, and touch, flooded with pleasure, longing, and delight in images drawn from the natural, physical world and all in the service of sensuous love. “Your lips are like a crimson thread, and your mouth is lovely”; “The fragrance of your oils is better than any spice”; “Let me hear your voice, for your voice is sweet”; “Your kisses are like the best wine that goes down smoothly”; “O that his left hand were under my head, and that his right hand embraced me.” Innuendos and double entendres abound. Find them, and they’ll make you blush.
And it’s all right there in the Bible. The presence of the Song of Songs nestled within sacred text whispers seductively that our God, this God of love, who made us embodied and with a powerful capacity to love, doesn’t deny wild sexy love. We are embodied, our spirits knit seamlessly into blood and bone, eyes like doves, and cheeks like pomegranates. “The winter is past, the rain over and gone. Flowers appear on the earth. It is time to sing.”
