Song of Solomon 3:1-4

By: Lindy Bunch

Upon my bed at night I sought him whom my soul loves; I sought him, but found him not; I called him, but he gave no answer. / ‘I will rise now and go about the city, in the streets and in the squares; I will seek him whom my soul loves.’ I sought him, but found him not. / The sentinels found me, as they went about in the city. ‘Have you seen him whom my soul loves?’ / Scarcely had I passed them, when I found him whom my soul loves. I held him, and would not let him go until I brought him into my mother’s house, and into the chamber of her that conceived me. (Song of Solomon 3:1-4)

In their book Soul Searching, which focuses on the faith lives of American teenagers, Christian Smith and Melinda Lundquist Denton use the term “moralistic therapeutic deism” to describe the idea that religion “exists, with God’s aid, to help people succeed in life, to make them feel good, and to help them get along with others – who otherwise are different – in school, at work, on the team, and in other routine areas of life.” It is something that demands little more than passive attention and provides a “right” and “wrong” framework of morals to which one can adhere.

This was the Christianity of my childhood and teenage years. Religion was something my parents made me do on Sundays, and honestly, I was pretty bored with it.

As a teen and young adult, I wish I had read the Song of Solomon; this canonical text is an ancient and erotic love poem that might have been sung in banquet halls (the ancient term for “wild parties”).

The passage depicts a lover who cannot sleep because of their consuming desire for another. The lover runs around the city all night, asking everyone if they know where the beloved is. Upon finding the beloved, our narrator is so enraptured that the sought-after lover is immediately pulled “into my mother’s house, and into the chamber of her that conceived me.”

(This is one of those moments when I wonder, “How did I ever think the Bible was boring?” I mean, are you reading this? This is scandalous stuff! Here we have a canonical story about running around the city all night looking for some guy and then taking him into your mother’s bedroom! Wow.)

But to move beyond the surface level, this story teaches us several important lessons regarding our faith and the “moralistic therapeutic deism” described above.

First, there is nothing tame about the lover’s quest – it is raw, dramatic, and invigorating. One soul fervently seeking another soul, a passionate embrace upon reuniting, and then the bliss of simply being together.

Second, there is no sense of embarrassment regarding the depth of passion and love. When the narrator cannot find the beloved, he/she does not wait meekly in the house. Instead, the narrator races through the city with careless abandon.

Third, there is a consuming single-mindedness that characterizes the lovers. One is so consumed by the thought of the other that nothing else gets in the way. I have a sense that there is nothing else the narrator would rather be doing than seeking and being with the beloved.

These three traits (wildness, shamelessness, and single-mindedness) have characterized the spirituality of Christians in the past and can for us today. When I think of the “moralistic therapeutic deism” of my youth as compared to the wild and energetic passion that characterizes my faith now, there is no question – I would rather be the lover racing through the city, tearing apart the town to find my God.

Interestingly, there are numerous saints and mystics whose lives resonate deeply with this passage from the Song of Solomon. One of the most well-known was Saint Teresa of Avila, a 16^th century Spanish mystic who wrote of her great passion and love for the Lord. One of her poems about God reads: “When He touches me I clutch the sky’s sheets, the way other lovers do/ the earth’s weave of clay./ Any real ecstasy is a sign/ you are moving in the right direction,/ don’t let any prude tell you otherwise.”

Does your faith make you so ecstatic that the metaphor of an earthly lover is the only one that comes close to describing it?

I’m not there yet – but with spiritual guides such as Saint Teresa of Avila, I pray that one day I will be. Step by step, prayer by prayer, we work ourselves into a new creation, closer to a love so deep no words can touch it.

Lord, let us reclaim the wild and shameless passion of our love for you; let it consume our hearts and minds so that we yearn only to be with you. By journeying closer to you, we journey more deeply into ourselves. Therefore give us strength and courage to truly know ourselves and be transformed into the body of Christ on earth. In the words of your beloved Saint Teresa of Avila, “Christ has no body now but yours. No hands, no feet on earth but yours. Yours are the eyes through which he looks compassion on this world. Yours are the feet with which he walks to do good. Yours are the hands through which he blesses all the world. Yours are the hands, yours are the feet, yours are the eyes, you are his body. Christ has no body now on earth but yours.” Amen.