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When we’re looking for erotic poetry, we rarely look in the Bible. But here it is, in the wisdom literature titled the Song of Solomon. I have heard arguments that work very hard to keep this poetry in the spiritual realm. They work hard, wander a great distance, and don’t do a very good job of keeping these passages out of the sexual realm.
In the Cornaro Chapel, Santa Maria Della Vittoria in Rome there is a statue, done in marble, set into an explosion of passionate gold and white. The statue is of Teresa of Avila, a nun who lived in the 16th century in Spain, at the height of the Reformation. She experienced several visions recounted by the nun in several books, including this description of the scene Bernini depicted in the sculpture.
“Beside me, on the left, appeared an angel in bodily form.... He was not tall but short, and very beautiful; and his face was so aflame that he appeared to be one of the highest rank of angels, who seem to be all on fire.... In his hands I saw a great golden spear, and at the iron tip there appeared to be a point of fire. This he plunged into my heart several times so that it penetrated to my entrails. When he pulled it out, I felt that he took them with it, and left me utterly consumed by the great love of God. The pain was so severe that it made me utter several moans. The sweetness caused by this intense pain is so extreme that one cannot possibly wish it to cease, nor is one's soul content with anything but God. This is not a physical but a spiritual pain, though the body has some share in it—even a considerable share.”
She was canonized (made a saint by the church) largely for the spiritual visions she experienced.
If one is willing to look at the sculpture and listen to her account of her vision, there is little doubt that they are erotic. When the sculpture was first unveiled, there was considerable rumbling about Bernini’s openly erotic focus. But if one will read the saint’s account of her vision, there is little doubt that the sculpture matches the saint’s own focus. One wonders why it’s so hard for us to allow spirituality and eroticism, each a major issue in our lives to coexist.
This polarity bleeds into our faith in other ways. We tend to create pasteboard figures of the giants of our faith. Scripture shows the human nature of these human individuals. There is little doubt that Abraham, Jacob, Joseph, Moses, the prophets, and New Testament people, Mary, Joseph, the disciples, Paul, and even our Lord are humans set in real human environments, full of emotions, relationships, and honest feelings. Why are we so unwilling to allow them to be who they were?
Probably it is easier to make them something other. Charlton Heston with his white perm, is probably easier to deal with than the revolutionary mystic with violent tendencies that led the people of Israel out of Egypt. Peter was a blue-collar worker who smelled like fish and was torn by his own guilt. Paul, well we all know about Paul. Then there’s the humanity of Jesus. Humanity that included relationships with women that were anything but acceptable or even legal according to the mores of his day, and perhaps this day.
When Katsenzakis wrote of Jesus having a sexual relationship, he received death threats. Our skins are thin. Probably Jesus can take care of himself.
I have no desire to get into debates about Jesus’ sex life. But I would like us to be a bit more open to the truth that our faith is rooted in God’s love for us as we are. Our Lord was born and raised by real people, in a real place. He probably got into fist fights and rock fights as most boys do. He went through adolescence. God must love us as we are. God loved a 14-year-old boy. If that doesn’t demonstrate the extent of God’s love, … I rest my case.
So, let’s let the Song of Solomon be an erotic poem. Let’s stop trying to make good Christians sexless, passionless, people. We’re human. And God loves us.
Even adolescents. Why? That’s a mystery.
*****************************************
StoryShare, August 29, 2021 issue.
Copyright 2021 by CSS Publishing Company, Inc., Lima, Ohio.
All rights reserved. Subscribers to the StoryShare service may print and use this material as it was intended in sermons, in worship and classroom settings, in brief devotions, in radio spots, and as newsletter fillers. No additional permission is required from the publisher for such use by subscribers only. Inquiries should be addressed to permissions@csspub.com or to Permissions, CSS Publishing Company, Inc., 5450 N. Dixie Highway, Lima, Ohio 45807.
In the Cornaro Chapel, Santa Maria Della Vittoria in Rome there is a statue, done in marble, set into an explosion of passionate gold and white. The statue is of Teresa of Avila, a nun who lived in the 16th century in Spain, at the height of the Reformation. She experienced several visions recounted by the nun in several books, including this description of the scene Bernini depicted in the sculpture.
“Beside me, on the left, appeared an angel in bodily form.... He was not tall but short, and very beautiful; and his face was so aflame that he appeared to be one of the highest rank of angels, who seem to be all on fire.... In his hands I saw a great golden spear, and at the iron tip there appeared to be a point of fire. This he plunged into my heart several times so that it penetrated to my entrails. When he pulled it out, I felt that he took them with it, and left me utterly consumed by the great love of God. The pain was so severe that it made me utter several moans. The sweetness caused by this intense pain is so extreme that one cannot possibly wish it to cease, nor is one's soul content with anything but God. This is not a physical but a spiritual pain, though the body has some share in it—even a considerable share.”
She was canonized (made a saint by the church) largely for the spiritual visions she experienced.
If one is willing to look at the sculpture and listen to her account of her vision, there is little doubt that they are erotic. When the sculpture was first unveiled, there was considerable rumbling about Bernini’s openly erotic focus. But if one will read the saint’s account of her vision, there is little doubt that the sculpture matches the saint’s own focus. One wonders why it’s so hard for us to allow spirituality and eroticism, each a major issue in our lives to coexist.
This polarity bleeds into our faith in other ways. We tend to create pasteboard figures of the giants of our faith. Scripture shows the human nature of these human individuals. There is little doubt that Abraham, Jacob, Joseph, Moses, the prophets, and New Testament people, Mary, Joseph, the disciples, Paul, and even our Lord are humans set in real human environments, full of emotions, relationships, and honest feelings. Why are we so unwilling to allow them to be who they were?
Probably it is easier to make them something other. Charlton Heston with his white perm, is probably easier to deal with than the revolutionary mystic with violent tendencies that led the people of Israel out of Egypt. Peter was a blue-collar worker who smelled like fish and was torn by his own guilt. Paul, well we all know about Paul. Then there’s the humanity of Jesus. Humanity that included relationships with women that were anything but acceptable or even legal according to the mores of his day, and perhaps this day.
When Katsenzakis wrote of Jesus having a sexual relationship, he received death threats. Our skins are thin. Probably Jesus can take care of himself.
I have no desire to get into debates about Jesus’ sex life. But I would like us to be a bit more open to the truth that our faith is rooted in God’s love for us as we are. Our Lord was born and raised by real people, in a real place. He probably got into fist fights and rock fights as most boys do. He went through adolescence. God must love us as we are. God loved a 14-year-old boy. If that doesn’t demonstrate the extent of God’s love, … I rest my case.
So, let’s let the Song of Solomon be an erotic poem. Let’s stop trying to make good Christians sexless, passionless, people. We’re human. And God loves us.
Even adolescents. Why? That’s a mystery.
*****************************************
StoryShare, August 29, 2021 issue.
Copyright 2021 by CSS Publishing Company, Inc., Lima, Ohio.
All rights reserved. Subscribers to the StoryShare service may print and use this material as it was intended in sermons, in worship and classroom settings, in brief devotions, in radio spots, and as newsletter fillers. No additional permission is required from the publisher for such use by subscribers only. Inquiries should be addressed to permissions@csspub.com or to Permissions, CSS Publishing Company, Inc., 5450 N. Dixie Highway, Lima, Ohio 45807.
