Barcelona (Spain) - Tours (France), 07/07/2023, Briefs from France and Srs. Conchi García and Gemma Morató.- On May 27-28, during the meeting of sisters from Spain and France in Tours, Sr. Anne Lécu offered us a profound and beautiful meditation on "the perfumes in the Bible", suggesting that our union could be inspired by it, since perfume only finds its meaning in the gift of itself. We now offer you the video of the conference and the text translated into English. We will soon report extensively on the fraternal meeting we had.
One morning, we had some free time to think about spirituality, and we had to come back and present to the group either a photo, perhaps a poem or an object to signify our “spirituality”. Maria came, straight and regal in front of the group, took out a perfume diffuser, popped it several times in the direction of each of us (there must have been about forty of us) and simply said: "Spirituality, that's it".
So, when the sisters of the Théodore group asked me to speak to you this afternoon (although it's well known that no one is a prophet in his own country), I accepted with this story in mind. And it's perfume that I'd like to talk about in this new page that's opening up before us. This will essentially be a biblical stroll, because the Bible is a fragrant book. It speaks of incense, fragrant oils and spices.
Introduction - What is a fragrance?
Christ has all the characteristics of a spice. It exists only to be lost, announcing a kind of victory of the imperishable over the perishable. It is transmitted to those who touch it. Fragrance exudes a form of extended presence that persists even when the person is no longer physically present. You can't put your hands on it. Perfume announces someone's presence even before they are there. Its trace remains even when the person is gone. Perfume assures a form of presence linked to the body and different from the body, a kind of "enlarged body". In this sense, popular tradition is quite right: the perfumed being par excellence is Christ.
The scent of a being is always unique, because what we smell is the alliance between an essence and a skin, an alliance that is by nature singular. This is why perfume is linked to encounters, and the blending of two essences can reveal unsuspected fragrances, something that is more than the sum of the two scents. Ancient perfumers blended essences that sometimes didn't even smell good on their own, but together were exquisite. That's the horizon we're offered.
But Jesus said, "Leave her alone; why do you trouble her? She has done a good work for me. You will always have the poor with you, and when you want to, you can do them good, but you won't always have me. She did what was in her power: she perfumed my body in advance for burial. Truly, I say to you, wherever the Gospel is proclaimed to the whole world, what she has just done will also be told in her memory." Mark 14, 1-11
This very special essence - nard - is only mentioned in the Song of Songs and in Mark and John's accounts of the anointing at Bethany. It's an essential oil with a very distinctive fragrance. Some say it comes from valerian plants found in the Himalayas, Nepal or India. Others think it comes from a grass, or a labiaceae like lavender. Its very strong smell is reminiscent of the putrefaction of forest leaves. What is certain is that it has always been considered an exotic, arch-precious plant.
It seems to me that this text gives us three (or four) indications of what it might be like to open a new fragrant page.
- The text immediately brings us to the heart of the matter: perfume is there to cover up the smell of death. Indeed, nard was especially prized for embalming corpses. These embalming practices show how much man senses that there is more to him than himself, and that the degradation of death cannot make his life disappear as if nothing had happened. Thanks to this woman, in a way, Jesus' body is preserved in advance from the degradation of death. At the very least, it's a form of proclamation of the resurrection of the flesh, made perhaps without her knowledge, by this unknown woman about whom we know nothing.
- When the woman pours a reliable, pure nard on Jesus' head in Bethany, the men present value the perfume at 300 denarii (a denarius is the wage for a day's work). (When Jesus is handed over, 30 pieces of silver will be taken, the price fixed by the law for the life of a slave, equivalent to 120 denarii, cf. Exodus 21:32). The pure nard poured here is indeed beyond price, beyond value, beyond the realm of evaluation. It tells us that when we touch on the serious questions of existence - life, death, love - we are no longer in the realm of the quantifiable or the assessable, but elsewhere.
- Indeed, here, the bottle is broken. It seems to me that this clue is essential: the woman is acting out the scene we're about to discover in the rest of chapter 14. The real broken bottle is the body of Christ. The real pure nard, the only reliable nard, is his surrendered life, which can only embalm once "emptied of itself" (cf. Philippians 2).
- John, on the other hand (in the text of chapter 12, 1-7, the anointing by Mary in Bethany), insists on the scent that fills the house: perfume, always linked to an encounter, fills and perfumes far beyond what we imagined. We should add that the only time in John's Gospel that Jesus receives an anointing is from this woman, Mary. In a way, she makes him Christ.
I. An offering that responds to an offering.
1. A fragrant word
"Let everything that breathes praise the Lord" (Ps 150:6).
In transmitting this breath of life, God gives man both the word and its fragrance. Indeed, the Talmud likes to say that "with every word uttered by the Holy One at the time of revelation, the whole world is filled with fragrance1 ". The biblical text explicitly states that Divine Wisdom, that figure of the Word that comes from the mouth of God to give life to the world, is perfumed. Ben Sirac's book is dazzled by the extraordinary beauty of this Word. It is an olfactory beauty. It can be discovered by those who breathe, since we have been given that the organ of our body dedicated to the sense of smell is at the same time the one that makes us breathe and live.
“Divine Wisdom proclaims her own praise, in the midst of her people she celebrates her glory. In the assembly of the Most High she speaks, before the mighty God she boasts:
"I came forth from the mouth of the Most High and, like mist, I covered the earth. I pitched my tent in the heights of heaven, and the pillar of cloud was my throne. [...] I am rooted in a glorious people, in the domain of the Lord, in his inheritance: I dwell in the midst of the assembly of the saints. [...] Like cinnamon and aromatic acanthus I have given my perfume, like precious myrrh I have exhaled my fragrance, like galbanum, onyx and storax, like a cloud of incense in the Tent of Meeting. Like a terebinth I spread my branches, branches of grace and glory. Like a vine, I have given branches full of grace, and my flowers are fruits of glory and riches. I am the mother of beautiful love, of the fear of God and knowledge, and also of holy hope. I have received all grace to show the way and the truth. In me is all hope of life and strength. Come to me, all you who desire me, and be filled with my fruits. (Sirach 24, 1- 4. 12. 15-19)
God's conversation with man is the true ark of the encounter, making possible any conversation between men, any true encounter. It's a happy reading, one that brings us face to face with Wisdom clothed in perfume. But it also means that the conversation between us builds this "ark of encounter", which is the house of God.
2. "Make for me a sanctuary, that I may dwell among them" (Ex 25:8)
Let's turn now to the Book of Exodus. After his liberation from slavery in Egypt, Moses goes up to meet God on the mountain. He talks with Him and learns from his God how to build the tent that will house the ten words: it will be made from the offerings of the people.
And this is the contribution you will accept from them: gold, silver and bronze; purple and scarlet, crimson, fine linen and goat's hair; rams' skins dyed red, fine leather and acacia wood; oil for the luminary, spices for the anointing oil and aromatic incense; carnelian stones and stones to set in the ephod and breastplate.
Make me a sanctuary, that I may dwell among them". (Exodus 25, 1-8)
I think this can be inspiring for us too: everyone gives what they can. Everyone comes as they are. We know how little we have, and we're not asked to give what we don't have.
3. The fragrant offering of the Magi
Directly inspired by Isaiah and the first book of Kings, Matthew relates the visit of the Magi from the East. Seeing the infant with his mother Mary, they fall down and prostrate themselves. They open their treasures and "offer him gifts of gold (khruson), frankincense (libanon) and myrrh (smurnan)". (Matthew 2:11). The Magi come to see the child, just as the Queen of Sheba had come to see Solomon (1 Kings 10:2-10). Like her, they have come to make an offering of spices to a king. But there's more here than just Solomon. The incense they bring has something to do with the spices deposited in the Ark of the Covenant.
The most classical patristic tradition saw in the Magi's offerings the recognition of Christ's kingship (gold), of his divinity (frankincense), and of his humanity doomed to suffering and death (myrrh): "The myrrh signified that it was he who, for our mortal human race, would die and be buried; the gold, that he was the King whose reign would have no end; the frankincense, finally, that he was the God who had just made himself known in Judea and manifested himself to those who did not seek him ".
The offering can qualify the one it honors, such as a God, a king, a man, but also the one who offers it. Karl Rahner, meditating on the mystery of Epiphany, sees in gold, frankincense and myrrh the gift we make of ourselves. For him, gold evokes our love, frankincense our desire and myrrh our suffering:
"Come, my heart, open up and set off, for the star has him. You probably can't take much luggage with you, and you'll lose a lot more along the way. No matter, go ahead. The gold of love, the frankincense of desire, the myrrh of suffering - you've already got it all. He'll accept it all. And we'll find him".
Jacques de Voragine, who, in addition to La Légende dorée, left us "golden sermons ", speaks of Christ as a being with a perfumed breath: "His breath was indeed very fragrant, because it came from his chest, which was the receptacle of all graces. For in Christ there was myrrh, i.e. mortified flesh; there was frankincense, i.e. a very devout soul; there was balm, i.e. the precious divine nature ". Voragine takes up the Magi's offerings, incense and myrrh, and not gold, but a balsam that could well be bdellium, the yellow balsam like gold found in the second account of creation, in Book 2 of Genesis.
"Where I am, God is: this is pure truth, and it is as truly true as God is God," preached Master Eckhart. This is what the Magi discover before the child they have come to visit. His presence, within them. It was well worth the long journey. God offers shepherds and little ones the chance to discover Him right where they are, while wise men and scholars have to take the long road of dispossession to discover that the One they sought outside is within them. We are all shepherds and magi. Dedicated to the presence that hopes for us and awaits us.
II. Perfume as armor in the fight against what kills (and what stinks)
Yet Christ's "good smell" is not self-evident. The Infancy Gospels tell us that, at his birth, his mother swaddled him and laid him in a "manger", because there were too many people in Bethlehem for the census, and there was no room for them in the hall (Luke 2:7). Jesus was born in a farmyard, with the smells of the stable not the best fragrance you could dream of. Jacques de Voragine reports the words attributed to Saint Bernard: "They offered gold to the Virgin Mary to relieve her distress, frankincense to drive away the stench of the stable, myrrh to strengthen the child's limbs and expel the hideous insects8 ." At the end of his life, it is indeed the decomposition of death, putrefaction, that Christ will face, and it is to fight against it that the women prepare spices to embalm his body. Thomas Aquinas recalls that the gallows on which Jesus was hung had been "rendered fetid by the corpses of the supplicated9 ". Between the stench of the stable and the fetidity of the cross, the "good odor" of Christ is not self-evident. It is born precisely where odors threaten to frighten us away. From the moment of Jesus' birth, it heralds victory over death. And Jesus stoops so low as to accept that it be men, his brothers from afar, who offer him the good odor that he is. Extreme self-denial.
1. Biblical bad smells
I won't dwell on the bad smells in the Bible. Nevertheless, they do exist, and often evoke death, illness or guilt. Not that guilt and disease are linked, but the bad smell of disease can herald impending death, and by metaphor, the bad smell has been associated with sin. The bad odor causes repulsion, whereas the good odor attracts. Yet it is this condition that Christ chooses to share, and it is these nauseating odors that perfumes come to cover. He doesn't expect us to be perfect before presenting ourselves to him. He comes to us as we are, he comes to this world as it is. For if bad odors provoke repulsion, he who is the perfume of the world does not fear them.
2. Délivrance: passion in an aromatic setting
The stench evokes waste, all that is discarded. Yet it is in this refuse that the Lord goes to find the poor, and this is why the Lord's passion is also framed by spices.
If spices frame the life of Christ from his birth to his resurrection, this is even truer of the Paschal mystery, which is as if encrusted in a fragrant atmosphere in Luke. Spices are the link between Good Friday and the morning of the Resurrection. The great silence of Holy Saturday is like a jewel case that carries this fragrance.
And on the Sabbath, they rested, according to the precept.
On the first day of the week, at the crack of dawn, they went to the tomb, bearing the (Luke 23:55-24:1).
In John's Gospel, Jesus' body is bound with linen and spices on Friday, by Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus (John 19:40). But he had already been anointed with perfume by Mary, Martha's sister, at their house in Bethany. And Jesus had pointed out to Judas that this perfume of great price that Mary poured on his feet had been saved by her "for the day of his burial" (John 12:7). It was as if, throughout his life, Jesus had anticipated the gesture of offering he would make on the cross.
In another of his golden sermons, Jacques de Voragine compares the human body to a sack, emptied of its stench to be filled with the perfume of God's mercy. We're reminded of the archaic imagination of the Egyptians, who emptied corpses of their blood to fill them with ointment, and of Medea, who replaced Eson's blood with a transfusion of perfume.
The man was a captive, wounded and stinking. That's why Christ wanted to be wounded, so that the sack might be torn open, and the treasure come out, by which the captive is redeemed [...]. God sent down to earth a sack full of his mercy. This sack, I say, he tore to pieces in the Passion, so that it might be emptied, because in it was our ransom. Secondly, Christ was full of ointment, as much as an alabaster vase, and for this he willed it to be broken by many wounds: so that the precious ointment might come out, by which the wounded man is healed. [...] Thirdly, Christ's body was filled with balsam, like a storehouse, and he willed this storehouse to be opened so that the balsam might flow out of it, by which he who stinks is healed. This storehouse was indeed opened when the soldier opened his side with his spear.
From all these popular images comes a conviction. Not only does Christ embalm, but everything he touches embalm in turn, just as in the past the high priest anointed with holy oil made everything he touched holy. The path of these fragrances unfolds a form of.
The "contagion" of holiness. The saint makes others saints. Those who try to live this holiness in the midst of ordinary, mundane daily life bring their loved ones with them. And what is holiness if not belonging to God? We can encourage each other in this trust.
The resurrection of the flesh is just that: the end of putrefaction. Christ took upon himself not only man's guilt in being confused with sinners, but also the curse of the innocent's misfortune. He bore the curse of rottenness to the point of visiting the underworld to open it up and give back the fragrance of immortality to those who were waiting for him. What is most precious in us, our unique identity, the secret and profound meaning of our existence, our "perfume" is promised eternal life. No one can get their hands on it, no one can disguise it, no one can betray it, no one can violate it, no one can falsify it. "So it is with the resurrection of the dead: one is sown in corruption (phthora), one is raised in incorruption (aphtharsia); one is sown in ignominy, one is raised in glory; one is sown in weakness, one is raised in strength" (1 Cor 15:41-42). Incorruptibility is not for tomorrow. It has been given to us today in Christ's resurrection, but we still have to live it!
III. The subversion of misfortune: holy oil and incense
1. Holy oil
In the Book of Exodus, we learn that the two perfumed "places" are holy oil and incense. In a way, the holy oil materializes the perfume that is God and incarnates it in the oil that will penetrate the body: it signifies, in a kind of downward movement, that the Spirit of God is an incarnating principle. Oil gradually replaces the blood of sacrifice. Incense gradually replaces the smell of sacrifice, signifying prayer to God in an upward movement.
Anyone who wants to know what an oil is will discover the many virtues of the olive fruit as it passes through the press. Oil warms the muscles of athletes, cauterizes wounds, soothes burns and supports perfume. In biblical times, oil burned and illuminated as it burned. It is the material of light, when given to fire. As an ointment, it penetrates the body and remains there. It is a balm, a treatment that makes you strong. It softens, blends with the skin and makes the scent last. It is the embodiment of fragrance. The medium of its diffusion. It protects against sunburn and perfumes women's bodies. Oil welcomes man's young as soon as they are born, and accompanies them to their final resting place with the aromatics we prepare to combat the putrefaction of death.
Because oil penetrates deep into the flesh, Christians have chosen to take back the oil and perfume it to make holy chrism, signifying that anyone who has once in their life received the Holy Spirit, the Spirit of the Risen Christ, is the definitive bearer of this fragrance. No one can take it away from him or her. Like holy oil, the Spirit warms, cauterizes, illuminates, perfumes and liberates our lives, if we let it.
In Exodus chapter 30, 22 ff, the spices needed to make the holy oil and incense are detailed.
Five hundred shekels of cassia - according to the sanctuary shekel - and one setier of olive oil. You shall make it a holy anointing oil, a fragrant mixture as the perfumer makes it: it shall be a holy anointing oil". (Exodus 30, 22f).
The whole universe is present in the making of the oil from which the messiahs are made. It would be the smell of the last ingredient added, cassia, that would dominate the fragrance of the holy oil. Rashi gives a very nice detail on the quantity of ingredients needed to make holy oil. He notes that fragrance is combined with excess.
Half of what we bring will be two hundred and fifty, making a total of five hundred, as much as myrrh. In that case, why speak of : "half"? It's a law that corresponds to the pure will of the text, which requires that it be brought in two halves, so as to have more in two weighings, since it's not weighed exactly each time, but always a little more, as taught in tractate Kerithoth (5a).
A marvellous commentary that suggests that with God, there's always something extra, something to spare.
"How much more". Once again, the excess of the gift is announced. The very essence of perfume is this excess: there's more than enough. To give is always to give more. And when God gives, that "how much more" is never too much. The holiness conferred by anointing is first and foremost a holiness given in excess. There's plenty, there's enough for everyone, there's enough for the multitude.
2. Incense and prayer
The perfume you make there, you shall not make for yourselves of the same composition. It will be holy to you, reserved for Yahweh. Whoever makes the same to smell its fragrance will be cut off from his people". (Exodus 30:34-37)
Aromatic amber, whose Hebrew name is shehélèt, is more enigmatic. Paul Faure, based on the name of the plant, establishes that it is a thorny plant that provides a mitre gum, foreign (as the name has Assyrian consonances), sacred as it is dedicated to the incense of the temple13 . Such a balsamic tree is found in the vineyards of Engaddi, west of the Dead Sea. Its juice is said to be green. Yet the Beloved of the Song compares her betrothed to a bunch of balsam in the vineyards of Engaddi (Song 1, 13)!
Pure incense, whose name rhymes with whiteness, comes from the white tears of frankincense. It is an aromatic resin. White" frankincense, the best resin, is harvested in autumn, following incisions made in summer, while red frankincense, of lesser quality, is collected in spring, after winter incisions. It takes around forty days between the incisions and the collection of the resin. This incense is salted, not to preserve it, but to make its flame even clearer. As salt is used to purify water (Cf. 2 Kings 2:20-21), it is also a way of describing a prayer without dross.
Galbanum comes from a family of plants related to fennel or coriander. It is yellow in color. The plant contains a fatty oleoresin with an aniseed-like, even balsamic and unpleasant odor. Sometimes orange, sometimes green, it is collected by incision. Its scent changes and becomes pleasant when mixed with other aromatics. In ancient times, galbanum fumigations were used to ward off snakes and insects. The strong scent was said to have the power to frighten away the forces of death. Hence, perhaps, St. Ephrem's hymn: "The fragrance of his life spreads to Sheol, which returns it, rejects it, indisposed by it". Galbanum is also found in the characterization of Divine Wisdom in Sirach 24:15. Rashi comments on the contribution of galbanum: "It is an essence that gives off a bad odor and is called galbana. The text includes it in the composition of incense in order to teach us not to consider the presence of sinners from Israel as unworthy of us in our fasting and prayer meetings, who should on the contrary be counted as our own".
This is the source of the perfume. Human prayer becomes incense for God when it includes the supplication of both the just and the unjust. And as we are all crossed by the just and the unjust, it is indeed the whole of our life that we can lay before God. Perhaps our vain deeds, mingled with what on the contrary has weight, give that perfume of good odor that rises to the Lord, when everything is offered to him, leaving him to judge what is for his greater glory. This is what the Jews do on Shabbat, when in the great prayer of intercession they ask God for forgiveness for all possible faults, including those they have not committed. Well," says Rashi, "accepting the sinner in our midst (accepting the sinner that I am without fear of presenting him to God) is what gives incense its delicate fragrance, whereas galbanum alone is repellent.
Frankincense "materializes" light, giving it weight, or glory, allowing us to see what cannot be seen. Finally, it also has to do with taste: to be as white as possible, incense is salted, as if to guard against corruption. For the weary pilgrim happy to be here, the dance of the botafumeiro of Santiago de Compostela, set in motion by a dozen men, is a true marvel. The cathedral seems to dance around the censer, and all the senses are engaged. Incense becomes music, choreography, and it's easy to understand why Fra Angelico wanted to represent paradise as a "round of the chosen ones".
The fragrant page we open together is a page of unknowing, and that's good, because the possibilities are open. Let us give thanks to God, who constantly draws us into his triumphal procession in Christ, and through us spreads the fragrance of his knowledge everywhere. For we are to God the good fragrance of Christ" (2 Cor 2:14-15).
Anne L. op
Appendices
Marie Noël – Know me
I am and I am not as I seem: Calm as a great lake where the heavens rest,
So calm that, plunging deep into my eyes, You'll see yourself in their faithful transparency...
Who runs, dances, twirls and whom life carries I don't know where mixed with the wind's vain paths.
Wild, folded in my fearful whiteness Like a swan that leaves an island on the waters, One day, and slowly through the reeds Moves away without ever approaching the shore...
A trusting sparrow that lets itself be taken And whose fingers you feel, squeezed to hear it better,
All in your hand the warm, beating heart. -
Strong as an army in battle, fighting, bleeding, grumbling and still standing;
Who triumphs over all, risks all, suffers all, Silent and high like a wall...
And give him a hand when the evening comes...
Fiery as a lark's flight that vibrates In the hollow of the earth and rises in the awakening, That rises, rises, madly, to the sun, Leaping, fiery, reckless, mad, free!...
And more frigid, more, than an orphan in winter Who all around closed hearths lingers, prowls And desperately seeks a warm place
To huddle there for a long time without moving, without seeing clearly...
For the love of serving the love that scorns her, To have a poor heart that begs and fears And to follow her master everywhere like a dog...
Know me! Know me! What I said, am I right? What I said is false - And yet it was true! - Is the air in my heart sad or happy?
Know me if you can. Will you? Can I?...
My hundred virtues out loud Shamelessly, non-stop;
When my old parish priest would tell you
What I said at confession... You won't know me.
O passer-by, when you see
All my tears and all my laughter, When I dare to tell you everything And when you listen to me,
When you follow my every move, every step, Through the keyhole...
You won't know me!
And when my soul passes Before your soul for a moment Lit by the great flame Of supreme judgment,
And when God like a poem Reads it all to the chosen ones,
You won't know even then That in this world I was...
John of the Cross, spiritual Canticle B
Esposa Épouse
14. Mi Amado, las montañas, Mon Aimé, ce sont les montagnes
los valles solitarios nemorosos, les vallons boisés, solitaires
las ínsulas extrañas, Toutes les îles étrangères
los ríos sonorosos, Et les fleuves retentissants,
el silbo de los aires amorosos, c’est le doux murmure des brises caressantes
15. La noche sosegada Il est pour moi la nuit tranquille
en par de los levantes del aurora, Semblable au lever de l’aurore
la música callada, La musique silencieuse
la soledad sonora, et la solitude sonore
la cena que recrea y enamora. Le dîner qui recrée, en enflammant l’amour
16. Cazadnos las raposas, Donnez la chasse à ces renards
que está ya florecida nuestra viña, car voici notre vigne en fleurs,
en tanto que de rosas de nos roses, en attendant
hacemos una piña, Faisons une ponme de pin
y no parezca nadie en la montiña. Que sur la montagne, personne ne paraisse.
17. Detente, cierzo muerto; Arrière, Aquilon de mort
ven, austro, que recuerdas los amores, Viens, Autan, l’éveil des amours
aspira por mi huerto, Souffle au travers de mon jardin
y corran sus olores Et ses parfums auront leur cours;
y pacerá el Amado entre las flores. L’Aimé parmi les fleurs va prendre son festin.
18. ¡Oh ninfas de Judea!, O vous, les nymphes de Judée !
en tanto que en las flores y rosales Quand dans les rosiers en fleurs,
el ámbar perfumea, L’ambre déverse ses senteurs
morá en los arrabales, Ne dépassez pas les faubourgs
y no queráis tocar nuestros umbrales. De toucher notre seuil n’ayez pas la pensée
19. Escóndete, Carillo, Tiens toi bien caché doux Ami
y mira con tu haz a las montañas, Présente ta fase aux montagnes
y no quieras decillo; Et ne dis mot, je t’en supplie
mas mira las compañas Regarde plutôt le cortège
de la que va por ínsulas extrañas. De celle qui voyage aux îles étrangères.
THE BRIDEGROOM
Return, My Dove!
The wounded hart
Looms on the hill
In the air of your flight and is refreshed.
XIV
My Beloved is the mountains,
The solitary wooded valleys,
The strange islands,
The roaring torrents,
The whisper of the amorous gales;
XV
The tranquil night
At the approaches of the dawn,
The silent music,
The murmuring solitude,
The supper which revives, and enkindles love.
XVI
Catch us the foxes,
For our vineyard has flourished;
While of roses
We make a nosegay,
And let no one appear on the hill.
XVII
O killing north wind, cease!
Come, south wind, that awakens love!
Blow through my garden,
And let its odors flow,
And the Beloved shall feed among the flowers.
XVIII
O nymphs of Judea!
While amid the flowers and the rose-trees
The amber sends forth its perfume,
Tarry in the suburbs,
And touch not our thresholds.
XIX
Hide yourself, O my Beloved!
Turn Your face to the mountains,
Do not speak,
But regard the companions
Of her who is traveling amidst strange islands.
Comments on § 17
Blow through my garden
I say "through my garden" because there's a very big difference between God's breath in the soul and God's breath through the soul. For God, to breathe into the soul is to pour into it his grace, gifts and infused virtues. To blow through the soul is to operate through its contact as a motion in the virtues and perfections with which he has endowed it. This motion produces a renewal and movement in them, causing them to exhale a wonderful fragrance, which the soul breathes in with delight. When aromatic essences are stirred, they release abundant perfumes under this motion, which they did not previously exhale in the same way or to the same degree. So the soul does not always have the feeling and the present enjoyment of the virtues, either acquired or infused, of which it is in possession. In this life - as we shall say later - the virtues are in the soul like flowers that are closed and in bud, or like aromatic essences that are carefully enclosed: we can only smell them if we discover them and stir them up.
6. But it sometimes happens that God, by a very special favor bestowed on a soul spouse, lets the breath of his divine Spirit pass through her flowerbeds, opening up all the buds of virtue and uncovering the aromatic essences, that is, the gifts, the perfections, in a word, the treasures of this soul, laying bare the riches of her substance and the excellence of her beauty. It's a marvellous thing to see the treasures with which she has been blessed, to admire these ravishing flowers of virtue in full bloom. Add to this the priceless fragrance that emanates from each one, according to its species.
This is what the soul calls the course of the perfumes of its parterre, when it says in the next verse:
And her perfumes will have their course
7. These fragrances are sometimes spread so abundantly that the soul feels as if it is clothed in delights and bathed in glory. And not only does it feel this way, but those who have eyes to see can see it so well, so much does this glory radiate outwards. This soul is like a delightful garden, filled with the delights and riches of God. Moreover, it's not only when flowers bloom that holy souls command admiration. In the ordinary course of life, there is in them a certain grandeur, a dignity, that demands respectful reserve. It's a supernatural effect due to their intimate and familiar communication with God.