Showing posts with label Song of Songs. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Song of Songs. Show all posts

Sunday, July 19, 2026

Book Review: "Wounded I Sing: The Song of Songs and the Incarnation of the Son of God"

A friend recently sent me a copy of Timothy J. Kelly's Wounded I Sing: The Song of Songs and the Incarnation of the Son of God (Os Justi Press, 2026), with the promise that it was right up my theological alley. I was not familiar with Kelly, but he had impressive credentials—professor of dogmatic theology at the International Theological Institute in Truman, Austria and a research fellow of Blackfriar Hall, Oxford. The book also had ringing endorsements from some of my favorite scholars and writers: Fr. John Saward, Scott Hahn, John Bergsma, and Stephen K. Ray. After finishing the book, I add a hearty "Amen!" This four-chapter book takes longer than expected to finish, because its profundity of thought and beauty of expression move you to turn from the text to prayer.

The first chapter was like a return to grad school: This God Who is incomprehensible in His essence, discloses Himself to us by way of analogy to His creation. We must constantly remind ourselves that "however pure the perfection the name might evoke, however immaterial and actual the perfection signified, He infinitely surpasses it and exceeds the constraints our intelligence inevitably associates with the term" (Wounded, 19). In Scripture He goes even further, inspiring its authors to express His love for man via the language of our material passions, our human condition. Such metaphorical use of language, however, finds its embodiment in the Incarnation of the Word. In Christ Jesus and the Church, the spousal relationship between God and Israel described by the prophets achieves an undreamt-of reality.

This leads into a fascinating chapter exploring Jewish and Christian interpretation of the Old Testament's Song of Songs. It is a text which never mentions God and, taken at face value, is a love song in which the affection between lovers is "manifested by way of the language of eros, of human desire" and "embodied, conjugal relations" (Wounded, 37). Even so, the ancient rabbis recognized it as speaking of God's election of Israel; and the first century historian Josephus recorded how it had to be read in its entirety during the Feast of Passover. Christians such as Origen and Gregory the Great interpreted it "in light of the arrival of the Messiah and of the spousal perfections exemplified in His Passion" (Wounded, 40). Kelly then guides us through the Christological interpretation of the Song among medieval writers such as Bernard of Clairvaux, Thomas Aquinas, and William of St. Thierry. (I appreciated Kelly's in-depth footnotes as well as Os Justi Press's wide margins where I could make notations.)

The second half of the book, its final two sections, are a wide-ranging discussion of Christ as the Bridegroom, who bodily manifests His love for the Church in His total gift of Self upon the Cross and in the Eucharist. We consider the full reality of Christ's humanity, His Sacred Heart, soteriology, divinization, created and Uncreated Love, the Blessed Mother, the Theology of the Body, etc. Kelly's insights into the Gospel of John and explication of Saints Thomas and John Chrysostom's Eucharistic teaching alone would have sold me on the book. Kelly employs the Song of Songs to expound upon the most central mysteries of our faith and life. It is profound—theology that moves you to contemplation.

Wednesday, January 30, 2013

Guest Author, St. Bernard of Clairvaux

I was surprised by how easy he was to book for this gig!  St. Bernard comes to us this morning from the Liturgy of the Hours, where his twelfth century sermon on the Song of Songs serves as Second Reading.  Bernard's words on Christ's love for us and His Sacred Heart were too powerful for me to not pass along.  (And in a happy coincidence, I was just reading about the Song of Songs as I lay in bed last night, enjoying Christopher West's Fill These Hearts.)  So without further ado, St Bernard:

Where can the weak find a place of firm security and peace, except in the wounds of the Savior? Indeed, the more secure is my place there, the more he can do to help me. The world rages, the flesh is heavy, and the devil lays his snares, but I do not fall, for my feet are planted on firm rock. I may have sinned gravely. My conscience would be distressed, but it would not be in turmoil, for I would recall the wounds of the Lord: he was wounded for our iniquities. What sin is there so deadly that it cannot be pardoned by the death of Christ? And so if I bear in mind this strong, effective remedy, I can never again be terrified by the malignancy of sin.

Surely the man who said: My sin is too great to merit pardon, was wrong. He was speaking as though he were not a member of Christ and had no share in his merits, so that he could claim them as his own, as a member of the body can claim what belongs to the head. As for me, what can I appropriate that I lack from the heart of the Lord who abounds in mercy? They pierced his hands and feet and opened his side with a spear. Through the openings of these wounds I may drink honey from the rock and oil from the hardest stone: that is, I may taste and see that the Lord is sweet.

He was thinking thoughts of peace, and I did not know it, for who knows the mind of the Lord, or who has been his counselor? But the piercing nail has become a key to unlock the door, that I may see the good will of the Lord. And what can I see as I look through the hole? Both the nail and the wound cry out that God was in Christ reconciling the world to himself. The sword pierced his soul and came close to his heart, so that he might be able to feel compassion for me in my weaknesses.

Through these sacred wounds we can see the secret of his heart, the great mystery of love, the sincerity of his mercy with which he visited us from on high. Where have your love, your mercy, your compassion shone out more luminously than in your wounds, sweet, gentle Lord of mercy? More mercy than this no one has than that he lay down his life for those who are doomed to death.

My merit comes from his mercy; for I do not lack merit so long as he does not lack pity. And if the Lord’s mercies are many, then I am rich in merits. For even if I am aware of many sins, what does it matter? Where sin abounded grace has overflowed. And if the Lord’s mercies are from all ages for ever, I too will sing of the mercies of the Lord for ever. Will I not sing of my own righteousness? No, Lord, I shall be mindful only of your justice. Yet that too is my own; for God has made you my righteousness.