Posterous theme by Cory Watilo

SERMON--Song of Solomon 2:8-13

Today’s Old Testament reading from the Song of Solomon is one of the only scripture readings in the lectionary that makes me swoon. 

The voice of my beloved!
Look, he comes, leaping upon the mountains…
Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away…

I picture two lovers sitting together in a field by a pond, one leaning up against a tree, and the other lying on a blanket beside, sure to be covered by the shade.  They take turns reading sonnets to one another, and for every 14 lines they say to one another through perfectly written verse: I love you, and I thank God for you.

This scripture conjures up in me the deep desire that comes from having meaningful relationships with other people.  But mostly the deepest desire of my being which is to know and love God.  This love song calls the people of God to awaken, to arise, to come to the voice of the living God. 

The poem brings us into the playful life of God, ripe with the fruit of delight…
And as we delight in the world that God has made, God is delighted in our joy.

We are placed not only in the garden of lovers who are alive with flirtation, but also in the garden of creation which is alive with the love of God.  Just as it was at the time of creation, so it is now. 

God—unable to be contained by the heavens—overflowed from the heavens to create the earth, making the earth as a Garden. 

And still, unable to be contained in the lush riches of the ground, trees, earth, and sea… God made all the animals that would walk the earth, from the gazelle to the turtledove, and others—more than we can count. 

Yet, there was still more love in God to send to earth.  Breathing out, God let man and woman in… into the world created for love, delight, and joy.  He placed them in a Garden and walked with them… All the while simply dwelling in and giving voice to the very creation that was an overflowing of God’s own being, and goodness. 

The overflowing love in this poetic song is both the creator of all things, and part of our creation.  The love shared between the couple is not only human.  The world around them takes part in their joy.

The flowers bloom. 
The turtledove sings. 
The fig tree bears fruit. 
The vines give their fragrance. 
The love of the man and woman is contagious. 
It spreads across the hills and the valleys. 
It sends winter and rain running,
and makes for creation the most fertile ground of joy. 

Love cannot be contained. 
It overflows into the grass, sky, and earth. 
It can be seen in the blossom of flowers,
tasted in the flesh of the figs,
felt in the lover’s embrace,
heard in the song of the turtledove,
and smelled in the fragrance of the vine. 

God’s redemptive love takes place in creation, not apart from it.

There is a playfulness here, a sense of two people frolicking in a world that is pure gift.  There is a gracefulness in this play, and a playfulness in God’s grace.  This pure gift is boundless, as uncontrollable as the shifting of the seasons. We watch it unfold before us like the turning of a tree, which happens in its own time.  We must wait in joyous anticipation as it gives its fruit, and thank God that we might taste it.  We do not command the turtledove to sing, or tame the wild gazelle… Instead we listen to the voice of the beloved, who invites us to notice the manifestations of love that happen in God’s time. 

This love song is free of any form of subordination—there is no ground to plow, no woman who is told to be silent, no snake to be trampled underfoot.  This love song does not call us to think about the earthly structures that harden us as human beings. 

This love song is playful, and it calls us to love one another, and to take our relationships with each other so seriously that we bathe them in the gentleness of graceful love. 

This love song presents us with God as loving gift.  While this gift is not controlled by us, it is still among us.  This is not a disembodied gift—this isn’t a theory. 

This is hands in hands,
kisses from bride to husband,
flowers blossoming,
and a tree showering the grass with fruit. 

And what good is fruit if it is not tasted? 
How fragrant is a flower if it is never smelled? 
What love is shown between lovers if they never kiss? 

This love is among us, and the voice of the beloved calls us to participate.  To see, touch, hear, smell, and taste.

The goodness of God that has overflowed into creation comes to us not only in the fruit of the vine, but also in the Son of the Father.  God’s love could not be contained in the heavens, so God entered earth… Born of a woman, God was clothed in flesh to remove the limits of flesh.  God’s love is not a disembodied gift—it isn’t a theory.  It’s a person. 

He is using spit and mud to bring sight,
He is pouring living water into the well of human existence,
He is wearing a cloak that, with one touch, can change a life. 

God’s love could not be contained in the Heavens, nor could it be contained on the earth.  Jesus entered the world to leave it, and loved creation from within.  Standing in the garden of Gethsemane, Jesus knew his role in the outpouring of the overflowing love of God.  So, through his death he responded to the voice of that Goodness that dwelled within him.  The beloved had spoken to him and said:

Arise, my love, my fair one… And come away;
it is time for winter to pass, and for rain to leave this land.
Let the flowers appear on the earth;
the time for singing has come,
and the voice of the turtledove must be heard in our land.
The fig tree must put forth its figs,
and the vines must blossom;
and give forth fragrance.
Arise, my love, my fair one… And come away.

And, Jesus did. 
Jesus ascended into the heavens from which he came. 
And in his leaving the earth,
our resurrection was showered upon us,
and we were welcomed into not the winter of death,
but the springtime of life.