Love Human, Love Divine

“Love is at the heart of the mystery of God’s purpose

for our lives.”

A Sermon by Jeffrey K. Krehbiel

14^th Sunday in Ordinary Time

July 6, 2008

Text: Genesis 24, Song of Solomon 2:8-13

Then Isaac brought her into his mother Sarah's tent. He took Rebekah, and she became his wife; and he loved her.

So Isaac was comforted after

his mother's death. (Gen. 24:67)

Church of the Pilgrims

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www.ChurchOfThePilgrims.org

L ife is difficult. That’s the provocative first line of M. Scott Peck’s famous 1978 bestseller, The Road Less Traveled. Most of us learn that by the time we are teenagers. Life is filled with tragedy. All we have to do is open the newspaper to be reminded of that. Life is unfair. We often learn that as small children. As Christians, much of our energy in the world is spent responding to the difficult, tragic, and unjust circumstances in which people find themselves. The most difficult theological questions we can raise have to do with reconciling our belief in a loving God with the tragic injustice that permeates the world. The presence of evil is one of the great mysteries of human existence.

Yet life is also filled with delight. The world is filled with beauty. Human life is graced with daily experiences of pleasure, from a well prepared meal, to the laughter of children, the touch of another person, the kindness of a stranger, the beauty of a sunset. Martin Luther famously quipped that beer is proof of a loving God. Ponder for just a moment the meaning and significance of music. It is nearly impossible to explain why we enjoy the sound that music makes, why it fills our hearts to sing, why a certain passage of an aria can take our breath away. The presence of beauty if also one of the great mysteries of human existence, and increasing beauty in the world also ought to capture our energy as Christians.

Of all of God’s gifts, certainly the gift of human love is the deepest and richest. Our definition of marriage has changed significantly over the millennia, from the arranged marriages of ancient times– still practiced in some cultures– to the contentious redefinition of marriage taking place in California today. Yet the constant thread is that from the very beginning of time, to be human is to give and receive love. We might be tempted to imagine that romantic love is a product of the modern era, that in earlier times people married only for more pragmatic reasons. Our two passages, written thousands of years ago, are proof enough that the way the human heart works has not changed much since the very beginning of time.

I n one sense, these two passages are the least theological in all the Bible. In the Song of Solomon, God is not even mentioned. Many Christians have been curious about why it is even included in the Biblical cannon. There have been myriad attempts to read it as an allegory about God’s love for Israel, Christ’s love for the church, but the plain meaning of the text always shines through. The Song of Solomon is simply a love poem, and it should tell us something quite significant about the Jewish people that they deemed it appropriate to include in their sacred cannon.

The story of Isaac and Rebecca does mention God at several points, though God is not really an actor in the story. Abraham’s servant prays for God’s guidance, asks for a sign of divine intention, gives thanks to God for helping him find Isaac’s mate, but God does not really direct his actions. The servant may trust in God, but he also hedges his bets. When he meets Rebecca’s father, he does not place his trust in God alone, but presents his daughter with gold and jewelry, and makes sure he notices the camels and other trappings of wealth that he has brought with him. And however much this is a covenant that God desires, at the end it does not come down to God’s action, but Rebecca’s. It is only her own “I will” that makes the match possible. It is really only in retrospect that the characters in the story are able to look back and proclaim that this is all God’s doing. The deep faith in God’s providence is founded upon the conviction that God desires our well being. It is a trusting faith that God will provide for those who trust God.

Perhaps that is what lies behind the wisdom of including the Song of Solomon in the books of the Old Testament. Reading the rather erotic poetry of these two lovers smashes every stereotype that we might have of love in ancient times. There is no mention of marriage, of procreation, of child bearing, of parents or tribe, of society or nation; no hint of subordination or subjugation. In a context that we assume to be thoroughly patriarchal, the poems display no male dominance or female subordination. The woman of the poem is independent and fully the equal of the man. Though at times he approaches her, at other times it is she who initiates their meetings. There is no secrecy, no shame, no hiding. As Phyllis Trible points out, the poem seems to be a direct reversal of the curse of Genesis 3. There, as the man and the woman are banished from the garden for their disobedience, Eve is told, “in pain you shall bring forth children, yet your desire shall be for your husband, and he shall rule over you.” Yet here the woman proclaims, “I am my lover’s, and for me is his desire.” Dominance is replaced with delight. As Trible concludes, “love for the sake of love is its message.”

Perhaps it should go without saying that the gender of the two lovers is also beside the point. However much we have developed a tradition of shame in the Christian tradition about sex and love, the Hebrew scriptures know none of it. We should rightfully cringe when Paul writes that we should make no provision for the flesh, to gratify its desires. It is desire itself in the Song of Solomon that is affirmed. The inclusion of these poems in the Bible is a powerful declaration that love, desire and passion are also gifts from God for our well being.

N ot all of us have had the same success in the romance department. Not all marriages last forever. It is overstating things to suggest that it is God’s desire that everyone be married. Yet love is about more than romance, just as sexuality is about more than sex. Like the beauty of a sunset and the power of music, love and desire are symbols of God’s grace. Even more, love is at the heart of the mystery of God’s purpose for our lives. As we put it in our own Marriage and Holy Union policy, “marriage is an expression of God’s intention that we discover human fulfillment not in isolation, but in relationship with other human beings.”

James Nelson, who taught theology at the United Seminary in the Twin Cities, writes that not only are spirituality and sexuality not at odds with each other, but are in fact closely intertwined.

Listen to the dynamics that Nelson lists as common to both our sexuality and our spirituality:

∙ the ability to feel deeply, to be open to the full dimension of our experience;

∙ the presence of desire or longing, the intense seeking of deep personal knowledge of another. The Song of Songs expresses this from one human being to another. The Psalms express this in their pointed longing, even hunger, for God’s presence.

∙ the experience of communion, where two separate beings become united. The Hebrew scriptures point to this insight with their use of the word “to know” as a euphemism for sexual intercourse, as in “Abraham knew Sarah,” as well as expressing deep spiritual intimacy with God. To know God in the Old Testament means much more than knowing about God. We make this connection again in the church when we call the Lord’s Supper ‘Communion.’

∙ the incarnation, as in the word became flesh, is the most intimate link between our sexuality and our spirituality. In the incarnation the human body was not only pronounced good, it was graced as a vehicle of the divine presence.

∙ and finally, Nelson suggests that compassion is the integral link between our sexuality and our spirituality. Compassion does not mean pity or charity, it means a passionate caring about another. Lovers who do not have compassion for one another, a deep caring for each other’s well being, will never experience communion. Yet compassion also describes both God’s love for us as well as God’s hope for our relationship with each other. When Jesus describes the response of the Samaritan to the man laying by the side of the road, he tells us that he had compassion on him.

I think the church was wrong in saying that The Song of Solomon is nothing but an allegory of God’s love for the community of faith. At the same time it may point us in the right direction. The passionate, enduring faithfulness expressed in these love songs does indeed reflect the love of God for human creation. Listen again to this expression of love from one human being to another. See if you don’t hear an echo of God’s love for the world:

I opened to my beloved,

but my beloved had turned and was gone.

My soul failed me when he spoke.

I sought him, but did not find him;

I called him, but he gave no answer.

Making their rounds in the city the sentinels found me; they beat me, they wounded me,

they took away my mantle,

those sentinels of the walls.

I adjure you, O daughters of Jerusalem,

if you find my beloved, tell him this:

I am faint with love...

I am my beloved's, and his desire is for me.

Come, my beloved, let us go forth into the fields, and lodge in the villages;

let us go out early to the vineyards,

and see whether the vines have budded,

whether the grape blossoms have opened

and the pomegranates are in bloom.

There I will give you my love...

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.

Its flashes are flashes of fire, a raging flame.

Many waters cannot quench love,

neither can floods drown it.

If one offered for love

all the wealth of his house,

it would be utterly scorned...

✞