Bernard Song of Songs 29
29
“My mother's sons turned their anger to me." Annas and Caiaphas, and Judas Iscariot, were sons of the Synagogue; and from the Church's very origin these fought with great bitterness against her, daughter of the Synagogue though she was, and hanged Jesus, her Founder, on a tree. In that moment God fulfilled through their agency what he had formerly foretold through the Prophet: "I will strike the shepherd, and the sheep of the flock will be scattered." And perhaps it is the voice of that Church we hear in the song of Hezekiah: "My life is cut off, as by a weaver; while I was yet but beginning he cut me off." It is about these and others of that same race who are known to have opposed the Christian name, that the bride complains when she says: "My mother's sons turned their anger on me." Well did she call them sons of her mother and not of her father, for they did not have God for their father but the devil; they were murderers, just as he was a murderer from the beginning. Hence she does not say: "my brother," or "the sons of my father," but: "My mother's sons turned their anger on me." If she had failed to make this distinction, even the Apostle Paul would seem to be included among those of whom she complains, for he once persecuted the Church of God. But because while living as an unbeliever he had acted in ignorance, he received the grace of mercy; and so he exemplified that he had God for father, that he was a brother of the Church both on his Father's side and on his mother's side.
2. Take note how she accuses by name only her mother's sons as if they alone were at fault. But has she not also suffered very much from strangers? For the Prophet says: "Often since I was young have men attacked me," and "they scored my back with scourges." Why then do you complain so particularly about your mother's sons, when you are so well aware that men of various races have so often assailed you? "If you take your seat at a great man's table, take careful note of what you have before you." Brothers, we are seated at the table of Solomon. Who is more wealthy than Solomon? I do not refer to earthy riches, although Solomon has plenty even of these; but I want you to contemplate the table now before you that is spread with heaven's own delicacies. Refreshments both spiritual and divine are set before us here. "Take careful note, therefore," he said, "of what you have before you, knowing that you must in turn prepare a similar table." And so, with all possible care, I study what is set before me in these words of the bride, and for my own instruction and security take note that persecution by members of the household is alone mentioned by name, whereas she passes over in silence numerous and grave trials which she is known to endure all over the world from every nation under heaven, from pagans, from heretics and schismatics. Aware as I am of the discernment of the bride, I know it was neither by chance nor through forgetfulness that she omitted these. The truth is that she expresses her grief so openly about what hurts her so acutely, and what she thinks we must use all vigilance to avoid. And what is it that hurts her? It is domestic quarreling, dissension within. In the Gospel you are clearly informed of this from our Savior's own mouth when he says: "A man's enemies will be those of his own household." The Prophet speaks in like manner: "Even my intimate friend, who shared my table, rebels against me.” And again: "Were it an enemy who insulted me, I could put up with that; had a rival got the better of me, I could hide from him. But you, a man one with me, my leader and my friend, who enjoyed my meals with me," that is to say: I feel more keenly, I bear more painfully, what I have to suffer from you, my guest and companion. You know who makes this complaint, and about whom.
3. You can see that the bride complains about her mother's sons with a similar sorrow and in a similar spirit when she says: "My mother's sons turned their anger on me." She repeats the sentiment on another occasion: "My friends and my neighbors drew near and stood against me.”
II. I ask you earnestly to keep ever far from you this abominable and detestable vice, you who have experienced and do daily experience "how good and how delightful it is for all to live together like brothers," provided that the end is union and not mutual offence. Otherwise it will be neither delightful nor good, but a great misfortune, a cause of great injury. Alas for that man who disturbs the sweet bond of unity! Whoever he may be he will certainly "bear his judgment." Rather let me die than hear any of you justly complaining: "My mother's sons turned their anger on me." Are you not all sons of this community, like sons of the same mother, all brothers to each other? What outside influence can upset you or make you sad, if you are well disposed to each other within and live in peace like brothers? "Who is there to harm you if you are zealous for what is right?" Therefore, "be ambitious for the higher gifts," that you may prove yourselves to be men of good zeal. The gift that excels all others, that is clearly incomparable, is love, a truth which the heavenly Bridegroom is so often at pains to impress on his new bride. At one time he says: "By this all men will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another." At another time: "A new commandment I give you, that you love one another;” and again: "This is my commandment that you love one another," while at the same time he prays that they may be one, as he and the Father are one. Does not Paul himself, who invites you to the better gifts, introduce love among them as being with faith and hope surpassingly greater than knowledge? And when he enumerates the many wonderful gifts of heavenly grace, does he not finally direct us to that more excellent way, which he defines as no other than love? In short, what may we consider comparable to this gift, which is preferred even to martyrdom and to the faith that moves mountains? This therefore is what I say: May peace be yours as the fruit of your zeal, and anything that may threaten from without will not intimidate you because it will not injure you. And on the other hand, though the world outside may smile on you, the solace it offers will be in vain if, God forbid, the seed of discord sprouts in your midst.
4. Therefore my very dear brothers, preserve peace among you, and beware of offending each other, whether by deed or word or any gesture whatever, lest someone, provoked and surprised by passion in a moment of weakness, should be constrained to invoke God against those who injured or saddened him, and impetuously cry out this grave accusation: "My mother's sons turned their anger on me." For those who sin against a brother sin against Christ who said: "In so far as you did this to one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did it to me.” Nor is it enough to avoid only the more serious offences, for example, public insult and abuse or the venomous slander in secret. It is not enough, I say, to guard one's tongue from these and similar kinds of nastiness; even slight offences must be avoided, if anything may be termed slight that is directed against a brother for the purpose of hurting him, since merely to be angry with one's brother makes one liable to the judgment of God. And justly so. Because what you regard as slight, and therefore commit with all the more ease, will be seen in a different light by another, just as a man looking at the outward appearance and judging according to the outward appearance, is prepared to think a splinter to be a plank, and a spark a blazing fire. The love which believes all things is not the gift of all men. A man's heart and thoughts are more prone to suspect evil than to believe good, especially when the obligation of silence does not permit you, whose conduct is in question, to defend yourself, nor him who suspects you to lay bare the wound from which he suffers, that it might be healed. And so he endures the agony, grieving in his heart, till he succumbs from the secret and deadly wound, totally immersed in anger and bitterness, his mind a whirl of unvoiced thoughts on the injury he has received. He cannot pray, he cannot read, nor meditate on anything holy or spiritual. And while this soul for whom Christ died is cut off from the vital influence of the Spirit, and goes to its death through lack of the nourishment it needs, what, I ask, are the thoughts of your own mind in the meantime? What can you find in prayer, or in any work you do, when Christ is sorrowfully crying out against you from the heart of your brother whom you have embittered, saying: "My mother's son is fighting against me, he who enjoyed my meals with me has filled me with bitterness.”
5. And if you say that he should not be so gravely perturbed for so slight a cause, I answer: the more slight it is, the more easy for you not to have done it. Furthermore, as I have said already, I do not understand how you call slight something that is more than the feeling of anger, since you have heard from the judge's own mouth that even this is liable to be judged. Just think! And then will you call slight a gesture that offends Christ, that will bring you before the judgement seat of God, since "it is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God"? So when an offence is committed against you, a thing hard to avoid at times in communities like ours, do not immediately rush, as a worldly person may do, to retaliate dishonorably against your brother; nor, under the guise of administering correction, should you dare to pierce with sharp and searing words one for whom Christ was pleased to be crucified; nor make grunting, resentful noises at him, nor mutter and murmur complaints, nor adopt a sneering air, nor indulge the loud laugh of contempt, nor knit the brow in menacing anger. Let your passion die within, where it was born; a carrier of death, it must be allowed no exit or it will cause destruction, and then you can say with the Prophet: "I was troubled and I spoke not. "
III. 6. I understand that there are some who give a more mysterious meaning to the words of our text by applying them to the devil and his angels, who were once sons of that Jerusalem above which is our mother and who, since their fall, do not cease to fight against their sister, the Church. Nor will I argue with anyone who finds it more acceptable to see here a reference to those spiritual men in the Church who make war with the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God, against their impious brothers, wounding them for their salvation and leading them on to spiritual things by this kind of assault. "Let a good man strike or rebuke me in kindness," wounding and healing, killing and bringing to life, so that even I may dare to say: "I live, now not I, but Christ lives in me." "Come to terms with your opponent," says Christ, "while you are still on the way to court with him, or he may hand you over to the judge and the judge to the torturer.” I shall have found a good opponent if after I have come to terms with him, there will be neither judge to speak against me nor torturer. And indeed if some of you have been saddened by me in the past for this reason, I do not regret it; the sadness was for their salvation. I certainly cannot recall ever having done it without experiencing great sadness myself, such as Christ referred to when he said: "A woman in childbirth suffers." But let me no longer remember my anguish, now that I enjoy the fruit of my pain, seeing Christ formed in my offspring." And these, who have convalesced from their weakness after and by means of many corrections, are, I know not how, bound to me by a more tender love than those who have remained strong from the beginning, without need of this kind of remedy.
7. It is in this sense that the Church, or the soul who loves God, can say that the sun has changed her color by commissioning and equipping some of her mother's sons to make salutary warfare against her, and lead her captive to his faith and love, pierced with those arrows of which Scripture says: "The warrior's arrows are sharp," and again: "Your arrows have pierced deep into me." Hence she goes on to say: "There is no soundness in my flesh;" but because, as a consequence, she has grown more sound and courageous in spirit, she is able to affirm: "The spirit indeed is willing but the flesh is weak." Her sentiments are those of Paul: "It is when I am weak that I am strong." Do you see how physical infirmity can be an occasion for increasing spiritual strength, a source of new spiritual powers. On the other hand you know that physical strength can beget weakness of the spirit. What wonder if the enemy's weakness makes you stronger, unless in your madness you make friends with a nature that ever lusts against the spirit? See then, if the Saint who, for his own good, demands to be attacked and pierced with arrows, is not acting prudently when he says: "Pierce my flesh with your fear." How excellent that arrow of fear that pierces and kills the desires of the flesh, that the spirit may be saved. Is it not obvious to you that he who chastises his body and subdues it, is aiding the hand that fights against his lower nature?
IV. 8. There is another arrow: the living and active word of God that cuts more keenly than any two-edged sword, of which our Savior said: "I have not come to send peace but the sword.” "A polished arrow" too is that special love of Christ, which not only pierced Mary's soul but penetrated through and through, so that even the tiniest space in her virginal breast was permeated by love. Thenceforth she would love with her whole heart, her whole soul and her whole strength, and be full of grace. It transpierced her thus that it might come down even to us, and of that fullness we might all receive. She would become the mother of that love whose father is the God who is love; and when that love was brought to birth he would place his tent in the sun, that the Scripture might be fulfilled: "I will make you the Light of the Nations, so that you may be my salvation to the ends of the earth.” This was fulfilled through Mary, who brought forth in visible flesh him whom she conceived invisibly, neither from the flesh nor by means of the flesh. In the process she experienced through her whole being a wound of love that was mighty and sweet; and I would reckon myself happy if at rare moments I felt at least the prick of the point of that sword. Even if only bearing love's slightest wound, I could still say: "I am wounded with love." How I long not only to be wounded in this manner but to be assailed again and again till the color and heat of that flesh that wars against the spirit is overcome.
9. If worldly-minded maidens should taunt a person undergoing this trial, and say how unsightly she is and devoid of good color, does it not seem to you that she can reply very aptly: "Take no notice of my swarthiness, it is the sun that has burnt me." And if such a person bears in mind that she has arrived at this state through the exhortations and remonstrations of God's servants who "feel a divine jealousy" for her, may she not as a consequence say in truth: "My mother's sons turned their anger on me." The Church or any person inspired by true zeal will speak in this way, using this meaning, not in a mood of grief or complaint, but in joy and thanksgiving and a spirit of triumph that she has been found worthy both to become and to be called dark and unsightly for the name and love of Christ. And this she attributes not to her own merits but to the grace and mercy of the God who anticipated her needs and sent her his preachers. For how could she believe without a preacher? And how can men preach unless they are sent? Not with resentment but with gratitude does she recall that her mother's sons turned their anger on her. Hence what follows: "They made me look after the vineyards." If this statement is examined from the spiritual viewpoint I cannot see that it bears any trace of discontent or rancor, but rather of pleasure. In order to carry out this examination however, and before presuming to attempt it -- "for the place is holy" -- we must offer the usual prayers to consult and win the favor of that Spirit who "searches the depths of God," and of the only-begotten Son who is in the father's bosom, Jesus Christ our Lord, the Church's Bridegroom who is blessed for ever. Amen.
30
"They made me the keeper of the vineyards." Who are they? Do you mean those opponents to whom you recently referred? Listen and understand. Perhaps she is saying that she has been given this charge by the very people who persecuted her. No need to wonder at this if she was attacked for the purpose of correcting her. Everybody knows that lots of people are frequently opposed in a well-intentioned way for their good. Every day we meet with people whose ideals are purified, who advance to perfection through the friendly corrections of their superiors. Therefore let us rather show, if we can, how her mother's sons fight against the Church with hostile purpose and with a loss that is her gain. This is matter for wonder, that they whose purpose is to harm her, do her good despite themselves. The interpretation just given covers both of these meanings, because the Church has never lacked opponents who were either well disposed or evilly disposed toward her. Though their motives for attacking her differed, each worked to her advantage. And if she rejoiced in what she suffered from her rivals, it is because for the one vineyard of which they seemed to deprive her, she has been compensated by being placed over many. "By fighting against me and my vineyard," she says, "those who cried out: `Raze it, raze it! down to its foundations!’ have given me the opportunity of exchanging one vineyard for many." This is what she implies when she says: "My own vineyard I have not kept," as if explaining why it has happened that she is no longer in charge of one but of several vineyards. This, in effect, is what the text says.
2. But if we follow the text's direct meaning, satisfied with what the words mean as they stand, we shall imagine we are reading in our holy Scripture about those material and earthly vineyards that draw daily nourishment from the dew of heaven and the fertile soil, whence they produce the wine that ministers to wantonness. But by doing this we shall have deduced from writings so holy and divine nothing worthy not merely of the bride of the Lord, but even of any of her companions. For what is there in common between brides and a keeper of vineyards? But if they should seem to have points in common, shall we teach as a consequence that the Church was once commissioned with a duty of this kind? Is it for vineyards that God is concerned? But if, in a spiritual sense, we understand the vineyards to be the churches, to be the peoples who are believers, as the Prophet did when he said: "The vineyard of the Lord of hosts is the house of Israel," it will begin to dawn on us that it is by no means unbecoming for the bride to be made a keeper in the vineyards.
3. It seems to me that here we encounter a significant prerogative. Note in a special way how the Church extended her boundaries into vineyards of this kind all over the world, from that day on which she was attacked by her mother's sons in Jerusalem, and banished from it along with her first new plantation - that company of believers who were described as "of one heart and soul." This is the vineyard which she now says she has not kept, but not to her discredit. For during the persecution it had not been so uprooted that it could not be elsewhere replanted and leased "to other tenants who will deliver the produce to her when the season arrives."
II. No indeed, it did not perish, it changed to a new location; it even increased and spread further afield under the blessing of the Lord. So lift up your eyes round about and see if the mountains were not covered with its shade, the cedars of God with its branches; if its tendrils did not extend to the sea and its offshoots all the way to the river. No matter for wonder this: it is God's building, God's farm. He waters it, he propagates it, prunes and cleanses it that it may bear more fruit. When did he ever deprive of his care and labor that which his right hand planted? There can be no question of neglect where the apostles are the branches, the Lord is the vine, and his Father is the vine dresser. Planted in faith, its roots are grounded in love, dug in with the hoe of discipline, fertilized with penitential tears, watered with the words of preachers, and so it abounds with the wine that inspires joy rather than debauchery, wine full of the pleasure that is never licentious. This is the wine that gladdens man's heart, the wine that even the angels drink with gladness. In their thirst for men's salvation they rejoice in the conversion and repentance of sinners. Sinners' tears are wine to them; their sorrow has the flavor of grace, the relish of pardon, the delight of reconciliation, the wholesomeness of returning innocence, the gratification of a peaceful conscience.
4. And so, from one vineyard, that seemed to have been destroyed by the storm of savage persecution, what a vast number have been propagated and flourish all over the world! And over all these the bride has been appointed keeper, that she may not be saddened for having failed to keep her first vineyard. Be consoled, daughter of Zion: if one section of Israel has become blind, what is your loss? Yours is to wonder at the mystery rather than bewail the harm; let your heart be expanded to gather together the fullness of the pagans. "Say to the towns of Judah:" `we had to proclaim the word of God to you first, but since you have rejected it, since you do not think yourselves worthy of eternal life, we must turn to the pagans.’” God made an offer to Moses that if he were willing to abandon a people grown disloyal, and expose them to the divine vengeance, he himself would be made the father of a great nation. But Moses refused. Why? Because of the all-surpassing love that bound him irresistibly to them and because he would not pursue his own interests but the honor of God, nor seek his own advantage but that of many. That's the sort of man Moses was.
5. The idea strikes me however, that by a secret design of Providence, this magnificent project was reserved for the bride: she, and not Moses, would beget a mighty race. It was not fitting that the friend of the Bridegroom should seize in advance what was the bride's prerogative; hence not Moses but the new bride received the command: "Go into all the world, and preach the Gospel to the whole creation." It was she who obviously received the mission to found a mighty race. What more could she achieve than to spread over the whole world? And the whole world readily yielded to one who was a bearer of peace, who came offering grace. But what a difference between grace and the law! What a contrast of features as they present themselves to the conscience, the one so pleasant, the other so austere! Who can look with equal regard on one who condemns and one who counsels, one who holds to account and one who pardons, one who punishes and one who embraces? One does not welcome with equal ardor the darkness and the light, anger and peace, judgment and mercy, the shadow and the substance, the rod and the reward, the curb and the kiss. The hands of Moses were heavy, as Aaron and Hur well knew; the yoke of the law was heavy, as witnessed by the Apostles themselves who proclaimed that neither they nor their ancestors could carry it; the yoke was heavy, the reward paltry: the land was but a thing of promise. Moses, therefore, was not destined to produce a mighty race. But you, the Church who is our mother, holding out the reward of life here and now and of the future life as well, will find ready welcome everywhere because of the twofold grace you bring: a yoke that is easy to bear a kingdom that is sublime. Expelled from Jerusalem, you are received all over the world, wherever your promises attract men so that your laws do not alarm them. Why then still lament the loss of one vineyard when you have been so abundantly compensated? "No longer will you be deserted, a wife hated and unvisited; I will make you an eternal pride and a never-ending joy. You shall suck the milk of nations, and be suckled at the breasts of kings. So you shall know that I the Lord am your deliverer, your ransomer the mighty one of Jacob." This then is what the bride means when she says she was made keeper of the vineyards, and that she had failed to keep her own.
III. 6. I scarcely ever read these words without finding fault with myself for having undertaken the care of souls, I who am not fit to take care of my own soul: here I speak of souls as vineyards. If you approve of this interpretation may we not consequently and appropriately call faith the vine, the virtues the branches, good works the cluster of grapes, and devotion the wine. Without the vine there is no wine; without faith there is no virtue. "Without faith it is impossible to please God,” perhaps one cannot help but displease him, for "whatever does not proceed from faith is sin." Those people therefore who made me keeper of the vineyards should have taken into account how I had kept my own. For how long a time was it uncultivated and abandoned, reduced to a wilderness! It had failed completely to produce wine, its branches withered without the fruit of virtue because its faith was sterile. Faith was there but it was dead. Without good works how could it be otherwise? That was my life as a layman. On my conversion to the Lord I began to improve, though very little, not as much as I should have. But then, what man is fit to do this? Certainly not the holy Prophet who said: "Unless the Lord keeps watch over a city, in vain the watchman stands on guard." What attacks I remember being exposed to from him who shoots arrows at the innocent from cover! O my vineyard, what an amount of produce was robbed from me by subtle trickery, at the very time when I was growing more vigilant in my care of you! How many and how precious the clusters of good works either blighted by anger, or snatched away by boasting, or defiled by vainglory! What temptations did I not endure from gluttony, from mental slothfulness, from pusillanimity of spirit and the storm of passion! Such was my state; and yet they made me the keeper of the vineyards, failing to consider what I was doing or had done with my own; nor listening to the voice of the teacher who said: "If a man does not know how to manage a his own household, how can he care for God's Church?"
7. What amazes me is the audacity of those who seem to harvest only brambles and thistles from their own vineyards, and yet are not afraid to intrude themselves on the vineyards of the Lord. These are not keepers and vine-dressers but thieves and robbers. Enough said. But woe to me even now because of the danger to my own vineyard, and now more than ever, when I am involved in so many concerns and forced to be less attentive to the one, less careful about it. I have no opportunity to fence it round or dig a winepress there. Alas! its wall is broken down so and every passer-by can pluck its fruit! There is nothing to shelter it from sorrow; anger and impatience make it their thoroughfare. Pressing needs like little foxes steadily destroy it; anxieties, suspicions, cares, charge in from all sides; rare is the hour when bickering groups with their tiresome quarrels are missing from my door. I have no power to prevent them, no means of evading them, not even time for prayer. Will a flood of tears be enough to fertilize the barrenness of my soul? I meant to say "of my vineyard," but quoted the Psalm through habit; it means the same thing. I do not regret a mistake that draws attention to the metaphor, for the sermon concerns the soul, not a vineyard. So when vineyard is mentioned let the soul be remembered: its barrenness deplored under the former's figure and name. Hence I ask what amount of tears will irrigate the barrenness of my vineyard. All its boughs have withered through neglect: they remain fruitless because they have no moisture. O good Jesus, well you know how they are gathered in bundles of twigs and consumed daily in your sacrifice by the burning fire of sorrow in my heart. Let the broken spirit, I implore, be a sacrifice to you: "You will not scorn this crushed and broken heart, O God."
IV. 8. On account of my imperfection then, I apply the present text in this way to myself. But a man who is perfect" will be able to give another meaning to the words: "My own vineyard I have not kept," the meaning intended by the Savior when he said in the Gospel: "Anyone who loses his life for my sake will find it." It is clear that a man is fit and worthy to be in charge of vineyards when he can painstakingly apply himself to the care of the ones committed to him without let or hindrance in caring for his own, provided he does not concentrate on selfish interest, nor on what is profitable to himself, but to others. Hence Peter was made keeper of so many vineyards that were of the circumcision, because he was ready to go to prison and to death; love of his own vineyard, of his own life that is, prevented him in no way from concentrating on the care of those committed to him. Paul too was rightly entrusted with a vast forest of vineyards, because so little was he worried by concern for his own vineyard that he was ready not only to be put in bonds but even to die in Jerusalem for the name of our Lord Jesus Christ. "I dread none of these things," he said, "nor do I account my life more precious than myself." How excellent a discernment of values, when he judges that nothing he owns is to be preferred to himself.
9. Yet how many have preferred to their own salvation a pittance of worthless money. Paul preferred not even his life. "I do not account my life more precious than myself," he said. Do you make a distinction between yourself and your life, then? You do well in seeing more worth in your self than in anything you possess. But how is it that your life is not your self? I feel that because Paul was then guided by the Spirit, and had a self that acknowledges that the Law is good, he thought it more becoming to designate this self as the principal and supreme entity in himself, rather than anything else that was his. The remaining part of his soul being clearly of an inferior nature, and therefore belonging to a lower and baser form of being, namely the body, not only because its function is to impart life and feeling to it but also to preserve and nourish it: this sensual and carnal thing is regarded by the spiritual man as unworthy to be called self. He judged it better to see it as something belonging to him rather than as adequately equipped to represent his personality. "When I say me," he said, "understand it to mean what is most excellent in me, that in which I exist by favor of God, my mind and reason. When I speak of my soul, think of that lower principle whose purpose as you see is to animate the body, and even share in its concupiscence. I once lived at that level, but not now, because I no longer walk according to the flesh, but according to the Spirit. `I live, now not I, but Christ lives in me.’ Not in the flesh but in this spirit is my true self to be found. What if the soul still experiences carnal lusts? `The thing behaving that way is not my true self but sin living in me.’ And therefore I do not regard this carnal instinct as my real self, but as something possessed by my self: in other words, my sensitive soul." To express carnal love is a function of that soul, as is the life it communicates to the body. This is the life that Paul spurned for the sake of his true self, being ready not only to be put in bonds but even to die in Jerusalem" on behalf of the Lord, and in this manner to lose his life as the Lord had counseled.
10. You too, if you abandon your own will, if you fully renounce the pleasures of the body, if you crucify your lower nature with its passions and desires, and if you "put to death those parts of you which belong to the earth," will be truly doing as Paul did, since you will not account your life as more precious than yourself; by this loss that saves, you will prove yourself a follower of Christ. It is wiser to lose it in order to save it, than by saving it to lose it. "For anyone who wants to save his life, will lose it."
V. What have you to say to this, you who are so particular about your food, so unconcerned about your behavior? Hippocrates and his followers teach us to save our lives in this world, Christ and his followers teach us to lose them. Which of the two do you choose as master? But the man who complains: "This is bad for my eyes, that gives me headache, this affects my heart, that upsets my stomach" -- he shows clearly who his master is. Each of us holds forth in the style of the master he has learned from. It was not from the Gospel, nor from the prophets, nor from the letters of the apostles, that you learned to pick and choose like this. It was flesh and blood, not the Spirit of the Father, that revealed this wisdom to you, for it is the wisdom of the flesh. But listen to what our physicians think of this kind of wisdom: "To set one's mind on the flesh," they say, "is death;" and "the mind that is set on the flesh is hostile to God." Would you have me preach to you the doctrine of Hippocrates or Galenus, or even of the school of Epicurus? But I, a follower of Christ, am speaking to Christ's followers: if I should introduce strange doctrines here, I should be in sin. The ideal of Epicurus was the body's sensual pleasure, of Hippocrates to promote its good health, but my Master preaches contempt of these two pursuits. What each of those philosophers seeks, and teaches us to seek with all diligence -- in one case how to sustain the body's life, in the other how to pander to its enjoyment -- the Savior advises us to lose.
11. Is not this the message that pounded in your ears from the school of Christ when just now it was proclaimed: "He who loves his life loses it"? He loses it, he said, either by dying as a martyr or by chastising himself as a penitent. Certainly, it is a kind of martyrdom to put to death the deeds of the body by the power of the Spirit, less horrifying indeed than that in which the limbs are severed by the sword, but more grueling because more prolonged. Do you not see how these words of my Master condemn that wisdom of the flesh whereby a man either abandons himself to sensual indulgence or pays excessive attention to the body's health? You have heard from the Sage that true wisdom does not dissipate itself by living voluptuously; it is not found in the land of those who live for pleasure. But the one who does find it can say: "I loved wisdom more than health or beauty." If more than health or beauty, far more still than sensuality and debauchery. But why should a man bother to abstain from sensual pleasures if he spends so much time every day probing into the mysteries of the human constitution and devising ways of procuring variety in foods? "Beans," he says, "produce flatulency, cheese causes dyspepsia, milk gives me headache, water is bad for my heart, cabbages bring on melancholy, I feel choleric after onions, fish from the pond or from muddy water does not agree with my constitution." Are you not actually saying that food to your taste is not available in all the rivers, the fields, the gardens and the cellars?
12. I earnestly request that you remember you are a monk, not a physician, and that you will be judged not on the quality of your constitution but on your profession. I beg of you to be concerned first of all for your own peace, then for the hardship you cause to those who serve you; beware of being a burden on the community, and take conscience into account. I do not mean your conscience but your neighbor's; that of the man who because of you, while he sits and eats what is placed before him, murmurs about your strange fasting. For he is scandalized by either your unwarrantable superstition or what seems the hard-heartedness of the person whose duty it is to provide for you. Your brother, I repeat, is scandalized by your strange behavior, this insistence on getting special foods that to him seems superstitious; or he will accuse me of harshness for not endeavoring to supply the nourishment you need. There are some who flatter themselves, but to no purpose, that they may follow the example of Paul who advised his disciple to give up drinking only water, and to take a little wine for the sake of his digestion and frequent bouts of illness. These ought to remember first of all that the Apostle did not prescribe such a drink for himself, and that his disciple did not ask for it. In the second place, this advice was given, not to a monk but to a bishop whose life was very necessary to the Church in its tender infancy. This was Timothy. Give me another Timothy and if it should please you I will offer him gold to eat and balsam to drink. But it is self-pity that makes you arrange for your own diet. Making your own arrangements like this seems to me suspect, I fear it is worldly wisdom masquerading in the dress and name of discretion. But let me at least remind you that if you decide to drink wine on the authority of the Apostle, you should not overlook the word "little" with which he qualified it. And so enough on that subject. But let us return to the bride and learn from her how to lose our own vineyards to our benefit, especially we who seem to be appointed keepers in the vineyards of the Bridegroom of the Church, our Lord Jesus Christ, who is blessed for ever. Amen.
Bernard Song of Songs 29