Song of Solomon 2:8-13; June 11, 2023; Second Sunday after Pentecost
I have a confession to make. I completely goofed the lectionary this week… See, I have been pushing Valerie (who has been awesome!) to work with me on creating bulletins 4 weeks ahead of time so to compensate for guest preachers and upcoming summer holidays. Well, when you’re looking 4 weeks out, it’s easy to lose track of what week you’re in, and so I picked this lesson from Song of Solomon which wasn’t slated until 4 weeks from now in July!
Oops. Well, as Paul says, “we know that in all things God works for the good of those who are called to God’s purpose (Romans 8:28)” and, hoping that I am, as your pastor, I am fairly confident that this morning will work out for the good and better of all who are listening. Or so let us pray.
As I alluded to last week, there is so much poetry in God’s word… beauty and poetry especially in this lesson from Solomon such that it can provide for 4-5 sermons at minimum. And poetry is often good like that – leaving room for interpretation. Just as scripture is too, because there is rarely ever only one way of looking at a text.
Which, of course, can be frustrating for some believers, especially when wanting to assert that their particular reading of scripture is the correct one. But this idea that there is always a right one, or uniformity or universal agreement within or about this Book, is quite frankly, mistaken. For there are almost always chapters and verses disagreeing with or expanding upon each other; such that with each new audience, experience, and perspective, a completely different understanding of what was written, and what is being said, could be argued for or defended.
Which, I might say, is the reason why we pray for illumination before reading scripture, so that it’s consecrated and blessed. We don’t make our lectors do it out of some obscure liturgical obligation – it’s not like Wanamaker invented it and told Grace to do so — but we do it out of belief that the Spirit will help illuminate what God wants us to hear today, and, also tomorrow, and then throughout every changing age to come. For outside of translations, the words of scripture don’t change, but the interpretations can. And they always have. From the Old to the New, and then especially through the incarnation and revelation of Jesus Christ and the giving of the Spirit.
And so, as I said last week, this is not a history book, though there is of course history in it. Rather, this is a life-giving, life-altering, life-reconceptualizing collection of allusions and poetry, sermons and history; in which we can often find ourselves, standing in the eye of God’s narrative, finding our own story and calling unfolding within.
Now you might be thinking that isn’t my job as pastor to interpret and proclaim the text from this pulpit such that there is only one clear message to be heard by all? Well… in a week such as this where I had pastoral care concerns and conversations that were varied and unique, one quickly learns that there isn’t ever just one interpretation that always fits the bill. Nor one message that always works for all. Nor one word that universally offers everyone the same hope.
And so, if you’ve been sitting here these last several weeks, thinking, hey this message isn’t for me… well, maybe it was for someone else, or even, for the person you used to be, or the one you are still becoming.
And if you’re sitting there thinking, why are we reading only from the Old Testament today, where is the New; this is a Christian church, right? Remember, Jesus was Jewish, and these scriptures were also his own.
So, with that, I pray, listen again with me to our scripture from this morning; listen again to its poetry; listen again to its words and their meaning; and then try to find your place and your story in the word that is still and always unfolding:
The voice of my beloved! Look, he comes,
leaping upon the mountains, bounding over the hills.
Look, there he stands, behind our wall, gazing in at the windows, looking through the lattice.
My beloved speaks and says to me:
‘Arise, my love, my fair one,
and come away;
for now the winter is past, the rain is over and gone.
The flowers appear on the earth; the time of singing has come,
and the voice of the turtle-dove is heard in our land.
The fig tree puts forth its figs, and the vines are in blossom; they give forth fragrance.
Arise, my love, my fair one,
and come away.
Now maybe the first interpretation that you’re hearing in the text today is the one most obvious for this “First-Fruits Sunday.” Perhaps, you’re sitting there thinking, man, there are no coincidences in life at all for look at how Brian’s blunder with the lectionary perfectly aligned itself to our capital campaign! What with the fig tree putting forth its figs, and the blooms and the fragrance that will no doubt come from all of our pledges and offerings. And, let me just say, if that is all that you hear today, then may your reading and hearing of this text be blessed.
Or, maybe, your hearing and interpretation of this text today is one in which you find comfort in the omnipresence of the Spirit and God in all things. That even though God is never mentioned in this lesson (nor for that matter in the whole of the Song of Solomon), God is yet there. With us and always. Gazing in through our windows, through the lattice, beckoning us to hear the call on our lives, so to come away to a land flowing with milk and honey. And, let me just say, if that is all that you hear today, then may your reading and hearing of this text be blessed.
Or, likewise, maybe your hearing and interpretation of this text today is one which harkens you back to Christ and his naming of the disciples. To his naming of you, saying from behind the walls you once erected to block him out, “arise, come, and follow me, for with me there is life.” And, let me just say, if that is all that you hear today, then may your reading and hearing of this text be blessed.
Or, maybe, less religiously, your hearing and interpretation of this text today makes you remember the time when your own loved one, some beautiful mare or stallion, showed up at your doorstep with flowers, and swept you off your feet, and called you away to a new life dancing and prancing over the hills and mountains, and perhaps your thinking, it’s time to rekindle that. Or maybe even, your hearing and interpretation of this text today makes you happy as you celebrate with pride this month, thinking that though it’s still not easy nor perfect, thanks be to God that we can rise, and come out, and sing our own song bursting in color and be accepted all the same as children of love, for we are all children of the same God. And, let me just say, if that is all that you hear today, then may your reading and hearing of this text be blessed.
Or, maybe, less happily, your hearing and interpretation of this text today makes you think about your own life and the opportunities you’ve yearned for, and the chances you’ve missed. Hearing in concert Norah Jones on the soundtrack, and her sweet but heartbreaking song, “Come Away with Me” thinking, if only I took that chance, if I only I arose and went away in the night, then everything would have been different and the way that I would have wanted it. And, let me just say, if that is all that you hear today, then may your reading and hearing of this text be blessed, and may you one day soon see another chance and opportunity that won’t pass you by.
Or, maybe, and perhaps finally, your hearing and interpretation of this text today is one that resembles grieving and the hope you have of a new world to come. Where the long winter is past, and the rain is over and gone, and all your tears and fears are wiped away. Where you can live in freedom, and smell the scent of flowers, and hear the timbre of laughter, and the bells of happiness that will never cease to play from that time forth. And maybe in this hearing, you will trust that death is not the final chapter but one somewhere still near the beginning, of a life to come where all is put right and all your loved ones, both past and present, are at once made whole. For in him, in Christ, our Beloved, all things have been made possible, and that which was mortal, has been made eternal, and one day for us all, we will all be taken away with him to arise and to live together and forever in Heaven. And let me just say, if that is all that you hear today in this Song of Solomon, then may your reading and hearing of this text be blessed.
So many different interpretations, my friends. But such is poetry. And so is scripture. I dare not say then which is the right one, or the correct one, because I don’t think there ever really is just one. But in a week where a good, remembered friend of mine died, my next-door neighbor, my first elementary school friend, and consistent childhood love, I think today, for her, for fair Jessica, I am partial to that last one.
Which one does it for you, my friends?
Whichever one it is, read today or proclaimed elsewhere, may it be illuminated by the Spirit. And may your hearing and interpretation of it be blessed.
Thanks be to God.
Amen.
