I am my beloved’s, and his desire is for me.
—Song of Songs 7:10
James Finley celebrates Bernard of Clairvaux’s emphasis on love:
When I was at the monastery, they had a statue of Saint Bernard holding a scroll. In his commentary on the Song of Songs, he says, “Amo quia amo.” “I love because I love.” He writes, “Everything we do, we do for a reason, but only love is its own reason.” [1] Clearly this is the motivation of the lovers in the Song of Songs. Love is their only reason, their only reward. This is how I would put it: Ultimately, God is speaking just one thing. Only one thing is happening: The infinite love of God, in an ongoing self-donating act, is pouring itself out, emptying itself, and giving itself away in and as the intimate immediacy of the gift and the miracle of our very presence, the presence of others in all things, and our nothingness without this infinite love. Love is our origin, love is our ground, love is our sustaining reality, and love is our destiny. Love and love alone is the substance of reality. Everything else is smoke and mirrors, really. [2]
Bernard of Clairvaux recognized that there’s fraternal love, our love for our siblings. There’s the love of parents for their children, and the love of children for their parents. God also gives us love for our friends. But nuptial love is unique in that two people freely choose to give themselves to each other completely: to support each other, to be there for each other, and to be with each other. So, their sexual union is a physical, somatic celebration of the love in which they give and receive.
Arise my love, my fair one,
and come away.
O my dove, in the clefts of rocks,
in the covert of the cliff,
let me see your face;
let me hear your voice,
for your voice is sweet
and your face is lovely….
My beloved is mine, and I am his. (Song of Songs 2:13–14, 16)
You can see why Bernard saw nuptial love, portrayed in the Song of Songs, as the supreme love. It’s like when spouses love and give themselves to each other—the infinite love of God infinitely gives God’s self to us. Nuptial mysticism is like being married to God. God wants us to be married to God in this kiss, this ultimate, sovereign, and supreme love.
The philosopher Blaise Pascal wrote, “The heart has its reason which the mind knows not.” [3] Bernard of Clairvaux understood this long before Paschal wrote it. In working with the Song of Songs, he is dropping down into the heart realm, searching for words and metaphors that will resonate with us. When we hear these words, we’re touched by them because we can tell Bernard is trying to put into words what our own hearts know is true. The depth of who we are is God’s beloved. [4]
References:
[1] James Finley, paraphrase. See Bernard of Clairvaux, Sermons on the Song of Songs, vol. 4, trans. Irene Edmonds (Cistercian Publications, 1980), sermon 83.
[2] James Finley and Mirabai Starr with Michael Petrow, “The Song of Love Lost and Found,” The Living School: Essentials of Engaged Contemplation, Center for Action and Contemplation, 2025.
[3] Blaise Pascal, Pensées, trans. W. F. Trotter (P.F. Collier, 1910), no. 277.
[4] James Finley, “I Am My Beloved’s,” Richard Rohr’s Daily Meditations (CAC Publishing, 2026).
Image credit and inspiration: Kim MacKinnon, untitled (detail), 2018, photo, Canada, Unsplash. Click here to enlarge image. Gazing lovingly upon the moon reminds us of the loving gaze of the soul toward God and God’s loving gaze in return.
Story from Our Community:
I’m so happy that the CAC values the wisdom of all faith traditions. Without Eastern spirituality I might never have discovered my own Catholic mystical tradition and the beautiful practice of contemplation. After starting an Eastern-style meditation practice years ago, I was finally led to Richard Rohr’s books and James Finley’s “Turning to the Mystics” podcast. There is so much of value in yoga and other meditation practices, and they have brought a depth and richness to my Catholic faith that I might not have experienced without their wisdom.
—Suzanne L.
