Bernard of Clairvaux, on Song 2:14

“My dove in the clefts of the rock, in the hollow places of the wall, shew me thy face, let thy voice sound in my ears: for thy voice is sweet, and thy face comely.”

“There follows: "My dove in the clefts of the rock, in the hollows of the wall, show me your face, let your voice sound in my ears." He loves and continues to speak words of love. Again he calls her dove as a term of endearment; he says she is his, and claims her as his own: and what he himself was accustomed to be more earnestly asked by her, he now in turn requests both her presence and her conversation. He acts as a bridegroom; but as a modest one, he blushes at what is public, and resolves to enjoy his delights in a secluded place, namely in the clefts of the rock and in the hollows of the wall. Suppose therefore the Bridegroom to speak thus: Do not fear, my love, as though this labor of the vineyards to which we exhort you should impede or interrupt the business of love. There will certainly be some use in it for what we both desire. The vineyards indeed have walls, and these have retreats pleasant to the modest. This is the play of the letter. Why should I not call it play? For what serious thing does this sequence of the letter have? What is heard outwardly is not even worthy of hearing, unless the Spirit inwardly aids the weakness of our understanding. Let us therefore not remain outside, lest we seem to be rehearsing the enticements of shameful loves, which God forbid! Bring chaste ears to the discourse that is in hand concerning love; and when you think of the lovers themselves, you ought to understand not a man and a woman, but the Word and a soul. And if I should say Christ and the Church, it is the same; except that by the name of the Church is designated not one soul, but the unity of many, or rather the unanimity. Nor indeed should you think the clefts of the rock or the hollows of the wall to be hiding places of workers of iniquity, lest any suspicion at all should arise concerning works of darkness. Another has expounded this passage thus, interpreting the clefts of the rock as the wounds of Christ. Rightly indeed; for the rock is Christ. Good clefts, which build up faith in the resurrection and the divinity of Christ. "My Lord," he says, "and my God" (Jn 20:28). Whence was this oracle brought back, if not from the clefts of the rock? In these the sparrow has found herself a house, and the turtledove a nest where she may place her young (Ps 83:4); in these the dove protects herself, and fearlessly beholds the hawk circling about. And therefore he says: "My dove in the clefts of the rock." The voice of the dove: "Upon a rock he has exalted me" (Ps 26:6); and likewise: "He has set," she says, "my feet upon a rock" (Ps 39:3). A wise man builds his house upon a rock, because there he fears neither the injuries of winds nor of floods (Mt 7:24-25). What good thing is not in the rock? Upon the rock I am exalted, upon the rock I am secure, upon the rock I stand firmly. Secure from the enemy, strong against falling; and this because I am exalted from the earth. For everything earthly is uncertain and prone to falling. Let our way of life be in heaven, and we shall fear neither to fall nor to be cast down. The rock is in heaven; in it is firmness and security. "The rock is a refuge for hedgehogs" (Ps 103:18). And truly, where is there safe and firm security and rest for the weak, if not in the wounds of the Savior? So much the more securely do I dwell there, as he is more powerful to save. The world rages, the body presses, the devil lies in ambush: I do not fall; for I am founded upon a firm rock. I have sinned a great sin: my conscience will be troubled, but it will not be confounded, because I will remember the wounds of the Lord. For indeed "he was wounded for our iniquities" (Is 53:5). What is so deadly that it cannot be loosed by the death of Christ? If therefore so powerful and so efficacious a remedy comes to mind, I can no longer be terrified by any malignity of disease. And therefore it is clear that he erred who said: "My iniquity is greater than that I should deserve pardon" (Gen 4:13). Except that he was not of the members of Christ, nor did it pertain to him to presume upon the merit of Christ, to call his own what was Christ's; as a member would claim what belongs to the head. But I confidently take for myself from the bowels of the Lord what I lack of my own, because they overflow with mercy; nor are there lacking clefts through which they may flow out. They have dug his hands and his feet, and they have pierced his side with a lance: and through these openings it is permitted me to suck honey from the rock, and oil from the hardest stone; that is, to taste and see that the Lord is sweet. He was thinking thoughts of peace, and I did not know it. For who has known the mind of the Lord? Or who has been his counselor? But the key that opens, the nail that penetrates, has become for me the means to see the will of the Lord. Why should I not see through the opening? The nail cries out, the wound cries out, that truly God is in Christ reconciling the world to himself. The iron pierced through his soul, and drew near to his heart, so that he might now know how to have compassion on my weaknesses. The secret of the heart lies open through the openings of the body; that great mystery of godliness lies open, the bowels of the mercy of our God lie open, in which the Rising Sun from on high has visited us. Why should not the bowels lie open through the wounds? For in what would it have shone forth more clearly than in your wounds, that you, O Lord, are sweet and gentle, and of great mercy? For no one has greater compassion than that one should lay down his life for those condemned to death and damnation. My merit, therefore, is the compassion of the Lord. I am surely not lacking in merit, so long as he is not lacking in compassion. If the mercies of the Lord are many, I likewise am great in merits. What if I am conscious to myself of many transgressions? For surely where sin abounded, grace superabounded also (Rom 5:20). And if the mercies of the Lord are from eternity and unto eternity (Ps 102:17), I too will sing the mercies of the Lord forever (Ps 88:2). Shall I sing my own righteousness? "O Lord, I will remember your righteousness alone" (Ps 70:16). For it is also mine; for you have been made for me righteousness from God. Should I fear that one will not suffice for both? It is not a short cloak, which, according to the prophet, cannot cover two (Is 28:20). "Your righteousness is righteousness forever" (Ps 118:142). What is longer than eternity? It will cover both you and me generously, this generous and eternal righteousness. And in me indeed it covers a multitude of sins; but in you, O Lord, what but treasures of loving-kindness, riches of goodness? These are stored up for me in the clefts of the rock. "How great is the multitude of your sweetness" in them, hidden indeed, but from those who perish! For why should what is holy be given to dogs, or pearls to swine? But to us God has revealed them through his Spirit, and has even introduced us through the opened clefts into the holy places. How great in these is the multitude of sweetness, the fullness of grace, the perfection of virtues! I will go for myself to those storerooms so filled, and at the admonition of the prophet I will leave the cities and dwell in the rock (Jer 48:28). I will be as a dove nesting at the very mouth of the opening, so that, like Moses placed in the cleft of the rock, with the Lord passing by, I may deserve at least to behold his back (Ex 33:22-23). For the face of him who stands, that is, the brightness of the Unchangeable, who may see, except one who has already merited to be introduced, not into the holy places, but into the holy of holies? Yet the contemplation of his back is neither worthless nor to be despised. Let Herod despise it; I all the more do not despise it, the more contemptible he showed himself to Herod. Even the back of the Lord has something that it delights one to see. "Who knows if he may turn and forgive, and God may leave behind him a blessing?" There will come a time when he will show his face, and we shall be saved. But in the meantime let him go before us with blessings of sweetness, those indeed which he is accustomed to leave behind himself. Now let him show the back of his condescension; at another time he will show his face in the glory of his majesty. He is sublime in his kingdom, but sweet on the cross. Let him go before me with this vision, and with that let him fulfill me. "You will fill me," he says, "with joy before your face" (Ps 15:11). Both visions are salutary, both are sweet; but the former is in sublimity, the latter in humility; the former is in splendor, the latter is in pallor. Finally he says: "And the back parts of his back in the pallor of gold" (Ps 67:14). How should he not grow pale in death? But gold that is pale is better than gleaming brass, and "the foolishness of God is wiser than men." Gold is the Word, gold is Wisdom. This gold discolored itself, hiding the form of God and displaying the form of a servant. It discolored also the Church, who says: "Do not consider me because I am dark, for the sun has discolored me" (Song 1:5). Therefore her back parts also are in the pallor of gold, she who did not blush at the darkness of the cross, was not horrified by the burning of the passion, did not flee from the bruising of wounds. Indeed she takes pleasure in these things, and desires her own end to be like unto them. For this reason she hears: "My dove in the clefts of the rock," because she occupies herself in the wounds of Christ with total devotion, and dwells upon them in continual meditation. From this comes the endurance of martyrdom, from this her great confidence before God most high. The martyr has no cause to fear lifting up to him a bloodless and bruised face, by whose bruise he has been healed, to present a glorious likeness of his death, indeed in the pallor of gold. What should he fear, to whom even the Lord says: "Show me your face"? For what purpose? As it seems to me, he wishes rather to show himself. So it is: he wishes to be seen, not to see. For what does he not see? There is no need for anyone to show himself to him by whom nothing is unseen, not even if one should hide himself. Therefore the gracious commander wishes to be seen, wishes that the devoted soldier lift up his face and eyes to his own wounds, so that he may thereby raise up his spirit, and by his own example render him stronger for endurance. For indeed he will not feel his own wounds while he gazes upon those of his Lord. The martyr stands exulting and triumphing, though his whole body is torn; and as the iron probes his sides, not only bravely but even eagerly he watches the sacred blood bubbling forth from his flesh. Where then is the soul of the martyr? Surely in safety, surely in the rock, surely in the bowels of Jesus, in the wounds that lie open for entering. If he were in his own bowels, the iron searching them would surely be felt; he would not bear the pain, he would succumb and deny. But now, dwelling in the rock, what wonder if he has hardened after the manner of rock? But neither is this a wonder, if one exiled from the body does not feel the pains of the body. Nor does insensibility produce this, but love. For sensation is suppressed, not destroyed. Nor is pain absent, but it is overcome, it is despised. Therefore from the rock comes the fortitude of the martyr, from there he is certainly able to drink the cup of the Lord. "And this cup that inebriates, how splendid it is!" (Ps 22:5). Splendid, I say, and joyful no less to the commander watching than to the soldier triumphing. "For the joy of the Lord is our strength" (Neh 8:10). Why should he not rejoice at the voice of the most brave confession? Indeed he seeks it with desire: "Let your voice sound," he says, "in my ears." Nor will he delay to repay in turn according to his promise: as soon as one has confessed him before men, he himself also will confess him before his Father (Mt 10:32).”

Imported from an open dataset — not yet checked against the printed edition.