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Arise and Come Away

Song of Solomon 2:8-13

September 1, 2024

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The Song of Solomon is one of the most beautiful and mysterious books in the Bible. On the surface, it appears to be a lyrical and sensual celebration between a man and a woman. Given that it is only eight chapters long, you might think that that would be all the author had time to do in that brief book. 

 

However, there is a great deal happening beneath the surface of that story, much of which isn’t apparent in any translation. What is apparent is that the book is riddled with ambiguity. For example, it’s often unclear who’s speaking from moment to moment. It’s also unclear what’s keeping the two lovers apart or even exactly how many characters are in the book.

 

For example, King Solomon is mentioned, but while some people reading this poem think that he’s the male lover, others believe that the woman has been brought against her will into Solomon’s harem, where she remains steadfastly true to her lover, who is a poor shepherd living near her family home in the northern part of Israel.

 

As for me, I see the Song of Solomon as being a political and religious satire on Solomon’s reign written by an unknown northern poet sometime shortly after the breakup of Solomon’s kingdom into the northern and southern kingdoms. And, if I eventually write my book about that, others might see that, too. 

 

In any case, the real point is that there is very little agreement about the meaning behind the book. Most controversial of all — at least within certain churches and synagogues — is the fact that the two lovers are very frank about their sexual desire for each other.

 

So much so, that when distinguished Jewish rabbis were gathered in the town of Yevnah in the seventh decade after Christ to decide which books would be included in what we call the Old Testament, drunken parties in the taverns of another part of that same town would feature sung versions of the most lurid passages of the book as leering entertainment. That didn’t help its chances to be included in the Bible nor did the fact that the book never mentions God. 

 

Even so, during the debates on whether to include the Song in the Bible, Rabbi Akiva stated categorically, “The entire universe is not as worthy as the day on which the Song of Songs was given to Israel, for all the Writings are holy, but the Song of Songs is the Holy of Holies.” That seems like huge praise for such an ambiguous book. 

 

The reason is that Akira and many others believed that the Song of Solomon describes the love between God and his people. Those commentators believe that God is pictured as the young and eager lover, who is utterly overcome with the charms of the one he loves. That loved one is each one of us, and God’s love for us is far too fervent for that love to ever grow old or tired.

 

I once read a sermon written by the late Frank Fisher, who was serving as an interim pastor in our presbytery. It was written in the the form of a semi-poetic love letter from God to each of us. 

 

That sermon made me realize that when I read the Song of Solomon, I often get caught up in the parade of details marching below the surface. Maybe I lose something in not focusing on the mainstream of interpretation for the  book. So I decided to write my own version of a sermon like Frank’s to offer you a glimpse at the boundless love God has for us. Here’s what I can up with in the words of our God:  

 

In the beginning — in that infinite instant before I created anything — I thought of you. I already knew the length and breadth and depth of your life long before it could ever be, and I loved you. I longed to hear your childish squeals of joy, your tentative whispers of prayer and your anguished cries for support as life’s twists and turns buffeted you in ways that only I could foresee. 

 

Although I gave you a complete free will, I could envision every instant of your life:  your steepest challenges, your greatest successes, your hardest failures, your deepest anguishes, and your greatest joys. I could read your future life like a heart-stirring novel and it impelled me to love you. It was a deep and living passion that flowed through the mists of time and claimed you as my own. 

 

As I scattered the stars from my hand and formed the Earth in my palm, I dreamed of the day you would enjoy Creation’s pleasures. 

 

As I established the limits of the seas and populated the water, air and land with life, I honored you. I set in motion natural forces that would build into the Creation you would come to know. I watched as your ancestors celebrated their love and multiplied. And I silently calculated the complicated dance of DNA — created by their free choices — that would one day lead to you. 

 

I shared your parents’ joy when they discovered that you had been conceived and watched as you were being formed in secret — safe and warm, nurtured by your mother’s body, which would give its very heart to you. Just as you had captured mine, eons before. 

 

I rejoiced at your birth, the memory of your mother’s physical struggles slowly receding in her overwhelming elation at meeting you face to face for the first time and being overcome with the awesome responsibility of protecting you and caring for you. 

 

Then came the day I had waited so long to see. Your parents brought you into a house of worship to be baptised into my family of faith, the one created by my sacrificial love on the cross. It was a temporary sign of the love you will carry throughout your life. 

 

And I greeted your parents’ choice with those long-treasured words, “Arise my love, my fair one, and come center your life on me. The winter of the pain of birth is past, and a flower of life appears on the earth. In your cry, I hear the music of life, like the voice of the turtle dove. Arise my love, my fair one. And come live your life with me.”

 

I laughed as I watched you grow. You learned to walk and talk and interact with your surroundings. Your earnest and eager questions about the world tested the patience and even the knowledge of your parents, but they were filled with pride as you matured. 

 

Your imagination was filled with new ideas as you read and heard stories — stories about distant lands and cultures, stories about people unlike any you had ever met, stories about people and places in the news and stories about people and places that never were, but which taught you truths about human nature and the infinite variety of my beloved children. 

 

I was thrilled as I saw your heart quicken in a concern for others, and as you began to feel the faint echoes of my presence, guiding and supporting you, and calling you toward the abundant life I had planned for you. I was overjoyed as you struggled to learn about me and wrestled with the issues of faith. 

 

And, although it may surprise you, I understood when you turned from me in your younger adult years, thinking that I was a childish thing that should be set aside as you grew up. I understood your need to assert yourself, but I never gave up on you. My love continued to surround you and my heart continued to call to yours. For you are mine and you always will be. So I waited patiently for the moment you’d rediscover my love.

 

I rejoiced on that day when my spirit touched your soul and the wondrous reality of grace once more filled your heart — when the words of my scripture came alive to you, no longer seeming to be distant and dusty stories, but examples of my endless love for all Creation. Then you turned and embraced me with your whole being. 

 

You felt that shudder of amazement as you saw with freshly-opened eyes that which had been hidden in plain sight all along. Amazement in the sudden realization that I, the Creator of Heaven and Earth, would love the ones whom I created in my own image so much that I would eagerly come bounding over the hills like a young gazelle or stag in order to become human and suffer the most painful of rejections in order that you could be with me forever. 

 

Amazement based on the knowledge I genuinely care for you personally. For I know you by your true name and when you invite me in, I would no longer relegated to catching mere glimpses of you though the lattice work.

 

And, in the joy of finding once more the One who is Love, your heart also opened to another as you discovered someone who could care for you and support you through the pleasures and pressures of life in a fallen world. 

 

I smiled as I knew that in your best moments, the two of you were sharing with each other the love that I had taught to you both. 

 

So I sang for sheer happiness as you committed your lives to each other. I wept as you magnified tiny faults in each other and I rejoiced as you made up and were filled with a deeper, more mature love, refreshed through renewed understandings. 

 

Through it all, my love was still surrounding and upholding you even in your moments of dark fear or pain. When your child or  spouse was sick, when you wept at the grave of a loved one, I wept with you. Throughout your life, as friendships would come and go, you found that I am the single constant, remaining at your side with an unshakable love. 

 

And when that final darkness settles over you and you come to the time of your death, know that I will be there with you still. I will cool your fevered brow and hold your unsteady hand. I will calm your fears and ease you into that last stillness beyond sleep. 

 

But I will never leave you there. I will sing and laugh as I welcome you at last into my presence, and I will share my final gift with you — the gift of eternal life. The gift of a life founded on and surrounded by love — a life beyond all the pains and sorrows of this world. 

 

Then you will hear me say, “Arise, my love, my fair one. The winter of death is past. The rain of sadness is over and gone. Flowers of new life appear and the songs of saints greet your rebirth. Arise, my love, my fair one. Come away and live with me forever.” Amen. 

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by Jim McCrea