Probably no portion of Scripture, except the Book of Revelation, has seen more weird exegesis than the Song of Songs. Commentators have conjured up all sorts of visions out of the sensuous, direct, love language of the book. And this is understandable, for the Song of Songs is a puzzle. How should we classify its literary form? Is it history, allegory, parable, prophecy, drama? The history of scholarship has shown consistent disagreement.
The translators of the King James Version, clearly thinking it to be allegory, as the page tides indicate, were following centuries of tradition in Judaism and Christianity. The Jews saw the whole Song as God in his dealings with Israel. Thus the Shulammite’s words in 1:5: “I am very dark, but comely,” were made to mean that Israel was black with sin because of making the golden calf at Mt. Sinai, but had become “comely” by receiving the Ten Commandments. The Christian Church took over this approach but saw it in terms of Christ and his relationship with the Church. Thus 1:5 was interpreted by some to mean “black” with sin, but “comely” through conversion to Jesus Christ. It is this approach that has prevailed in large sections of the Christian Church, and most devotional commentaries on the Song of Songs are illustrations of this practice. However, the allegorical interpretation has been rather consistently abandoned in contemporary scholarship, partly because of the artificiality and extravagance of its exegesis, and also because of further understanding of the role of such poetry in the ancient Near East.
What, then, is the Song of Songs? Various points of view clamor for acceptance. Some think it is drama with two main characters—Solomon and a Shulammite shepherd girl. As Solomon comes to center his love solely on the girl (6:8–9), the lesson is taught of the evils of polygamy. Others see a drama with three characters—Solomon, the Shulammite maiden, and her country lover. The plot is then interpreted to show the maiden resisting the advances of Solomon and remaining true to her espoused country boy, even though carried off to the palace. Thus we learn of the importance of remaining faithful to the marriage vow. Yet others think the Song is a cult liturgy showing the influence of Canaanite fertility worship, or a collection of songs sung at wedding ceremonies, or a series of general love lyrics, some perhaps connected with the occasion of a marriage, but most simply expressing the deep love of a man and a woman.
The Exhaltation of Love
The literary form and original purpose cannot be determined with certainty. But one thing is clear, and here all are agreed. The Song of Songs is a poem, or a series of poems, in which love is exalted. The theme throughout is pure, passionate, sexual, hungry love. Even the allegorical approach cannot disguise this. The traditional allegorical interpretation is not satisfactory. The view that it is a collection of love songs has much to commend it. The ancient Near East has evidence that similar songs were sung at wedding festivities. But because there is apparently a continuing plot, the Song may be seen as an extended parable, after the order of Proverbs 7:6–27, designed to teach various lessons about love. But even here there is no consistency, and there are sections which must be seen simply as love poems. In any case, what is important is not to solve the literary riddle, but to concentrate on expounding the central theme of love and its implications, all given within the context of exuberant flights of poetry. This means, as with all poetry, we must read with our emotions. We must feel, almost more than read, what is being conveyed. The literalist will just get nowhere with the Song of Songs. This means, too, that the profundity of the book’s symbolism must be studied. Double meanings abound. When, for example, the maiden awakens her lover under the apple tree (one of many common symbols for love in the ancient world), she is also indicating her longing to arouse his sleeping desires (8:5). What, then, is the modern message of the book?
The Wholesomeness of Sex
It is a strange paradox that among those most vociferous about their belief in the Bible “from cover to cover” is often found an attitude that sex is “nasty.” The Victorian embarrassment with sexual matters has not disappeared from the contemporary scene. The Bible should have given the lie to this kind of attitude. It is, to be sure, fully aware of lust and the misuse of sex; but at the same time it is forthright in approving the wholesomeness of sex. The passionate, physical attraction between man and woman, who find in this the fulfillment of their deepest longings, is seen as a healthy, natural thing. When God made man, He saw that he was “good,” and commanded him to procreate (Gen. 1:28, 31). Rachel, Jacob’s wife, is described as “beautiful and lovely,” while Daniel was considered “handsome”: (Gen. 29:17; Dan. 1:4). But in the Song of Songs, we find a whole book taken up with the most detailed appreciation of the physical world and its beauty. A man and woman’s love for each other, and it is certainly not “platonic” love, is set in the midst of expressions about the smell of perfume, the singing of the birds, the beauty of the flowers, and the physical attributes of each other. The completion of love is symbolized by a gazelle upon the mountains of spice (2:17; 8:14; cf. 1:6). One cannot gloss over its many physical or sexual allusions (1:13–17; 2:5–6, 8–17; 4:1–3, 6, 16; 5:10–15; 6:1–3; 7:1–3, 6–9, 12–13; 8:3).
So the Song of Songs has an important emphasis here. There is a basic, God-ordained wholesomeness to sex, to the use of our bodies in this manner. We are to remember that God established a physical attraction between the sexes; this is not wrong. And in the marriage relationship, as the Song stresses, sex is to have its normal, healthy role in providing fulfillment and joy for both partners. It is not something to be shunned, but to be praised.
The Meaning of Beauty
Because the Song is full of sexual descriptions, we tend to think it is all a glorification of physical beauty. This is not true. Beauty is much more. Many physical descriptions are metaphors for different qualities of attractiveness that are not necessarily related to bodily form. In other words, to be beautiful in the Song is not necessarily to have a beautiful physical form.
The Song often speaks simply in general terms about beauty and uses the metaphors of delicious fruit, jewels, beautiful colors, pleasant smells to convey the idea that the lovers have charm (1:9–11; 4:13–16). Thus the man calls his love “a lily among brambles,” while she speaks of him as “an apple tree among the trees of the wood” (2:2,3). The idea is that the whole personality of the lovers is refreshing, attractive, pleasant. A person may belong exclusively to another in the marriage relationship, but without charm love may eventually be killed.
Elsewhere the man describes his bride as gentle and well-spoken, showing us more specifically what beauty and charm mean, and indicating that love cannot live where bitter words and domineering spirits abide.
How sweet is your love, my sister, my bride;
how much better is your love than wine,
and the fragrance of your oils than any spice.
Your lips distil nectar, my bride;
honey and milk are under your tongue;
the scent of your garments is like the scent
of Lebanon (4:10, 11; cf. 5:13, 16).
Humility and selflessness are other qualities which go to make an attractive person. This is the meaning of an oft-misunderstood passage, the last part of which was quoted above.
I am a rose of Sharon
a lily of the valleys
As a lily among brambles,
so is my love among maidens (2:1, 2; cf. 1:5, 6).
The word “rose” is better translated “crocus,” but in any case the sense is clear. The maiden speaks first and expresses her sense of unworthiness—she is only a simple meadow flower, just a blossom of the field. She wonders why she deserves to be loved. But the young man answers her and turns her words into a compliment—she is indeed a blossom, but one of such beauty that all others are like brambles. In all these descriptions one is reminded of Paul’s words in Philippians 4:8—“whatever is lovely”; many girls are pretty, but not all are lovely.
The Ingredients of Love
Sex is not necessarily love. Important as sex is, it may become a degrading thing, practiced as an animal might. Sex must be joined with other motives and feelings. Here is where the Song of Songs also contributes a modern message. The book is not simply a Kinsey report on the sexual behavior of the ancient male and female. It speaks of other elements in the love relationship that make it full and meaningful.
Exclusiveness. The contemporary world has popularized infidelity to the marriage bond, has televised comedies on the theme of adultery, and has left the impression that love is where you find it in the satisfaction of lust. Not so the Song of Songs. It speaks of the exclusive love of two people, each wrapped up in the other, each pure, each faithful to the other, each innocent of any involvement with others. So the maiden tells her lover that she has reserved the fruits of love exclusively for him (7:13).
Consider also the metaphor of the tower used to describe various parts of the maiden’s body:
Your neck is like the tower of David,
built for an arsenal,
whereupon hang a thousand bucklers
all of them shields of warriors. (4:4)
Your neck is like an ivory tower
Your nose is like a tower of Lebanon,
overlooking Damascus.
Your head crowns you like Carmel (7:4, 5).
Here the metaphor of the “tower” signifies inaccessibility, insurmountability, purity, virginity, faithfulness—an apt figure to express the exclusiveness of a lover. It is the picture of a maiden with head held high, standing aloof from all advances. Other parts of the book speak of this moral purity. The fierce eyes (6:5) and the formidable army (6:4) are expressive of protected virginity. The “dove” hidden in the clefts of the mountain is an image of innocence and purity (1:15; 2:14; 5:2). The private “garden,” set exclusively for the enjoyment of the lover, is another one (4:12; cf. 8:12). The maiden pictures herself as a bed of lilies (denoting chastity and purity) among which the lover pastures his flock (2:16, 17). And the man expresses his faithfulness by saying: “there are sixty queens and eighty concubines, and maidens without number. My dove, my perfect one, is (the) only one” (6:8, 9). In other words, there may be many pretty girls, but there is none like his lover, and he is in love with her alone.
Steadfastness. It is one thing to be faithful for a time; it is another to remain so. The climax of the book, perhaps, is in the familiar lines:
Love is strong as death
jealousy is cruel as the grave.
Many water cannot quench love,
neither can floods drown it.
If a man offered for love
all the wealth of his house,
it would be utterly scorned. (8:6, 7)
Here is what true love is—invincible, steadfast, victorious. Real love overcomes differences of opinion, selfishness, bad habits, not by overlooking them, but by transforming each lover out of his ways. Love is not merely beautiful, as in the oft banal words of contemporary songs, but is a powerful force that overcomes all efforts to destroy it. Thus love that is steadfast is truly victorious; it has had to win a hard-fought battle. But if it is genuine love, it will have transformed each lover, just as in the beginning love made all nature seem alive and new (cf. 2:10–13).
Love as the Power of Life
There are other lessons about love in the Song of Songs—the joy that it brings to the one loved, how it lays hold of one’s whole life, so that separation can never be a permanent situation, how it cannot be taken for granted (cf. 2:5–6; 3:1–5; 5:2–8; 8:14). But there is something else which cannot be forgotten. The Song of Songs is in the canon; the Old Testament is Christian Scripture. The difference that Christ has made must be integral to our use of the book. The Christian faith has brought a new power, a new force into the love relationship. It can transform the commonplace and help us to achieve the true use of sex and real fulfillment in love that mere biological and romantic love cannot. And something more. It can help us to understand that our love for one another is an imperfect example of God’s love for us. The maiden said that “love is strong as death”; Paul tells us that God’s love in Christ has overcome death (Rom. 8:35–39).
ROBERT B. LAURIN
Associate Professor of Old Testament
California Baptist Theological Seminary
Covina, California
