Chapter 1, verse 1: The song of songs, which [is] Solomon’s.
OK, let’s stop there. Is it Solomon’s? I mean, obviously not, speaking with an eye to history. There’s no reason whatsoever to attribute this to Solomon. First of all, it’s pretty clearly not one thing but an agglomeration (or anthology) of poems or scraps of poems, many of them pretty darned old. Tradition, though, says that Solomon wrote it. Tradition says that Solomon wrote three of the Five Megillahs, and of course there’s no internal evidence that they were written by the same person, not so but far otherwise. The rabbis, of course, explain this as the Song of Songs written in his hot-blooded youth, the Proverbs written in the wisdom of his prime years, and Ecclesiastes written in his bitter age. Which is kind of nice, actually. Well, not nice as such. Kind of depressing, really. Still, it’s interesting, and it makes Solomon interesting and a little more sympathetic than I usually find him, the bastard.
Note that I am using the wonderful Blue Letter Bible, which not only has umpty-’leven different English translations, but the Hebrew, the Septuagint Greek, and the Latin Vulgate. This may become important later. I will be starting from the King James version, for reading aloud, and we’ll swap out as we feel like it. Hold on tight, everybody, we may be in for a bumpy ride. Shall we begin?
Chapter One, verse Two: Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth: for thy love [is] better than wine.
Who is speaking, and to whom? A female, but it starts out in the third person, as if she’s speaking to some audience about her beloved, and then turns and speaks to him—thy love. Sadly, English is a neutered language. In Hebrew, we can often—not always, but often—tell whether the speaker is male or female, and whether the second-person you and your is male, female or a group. Some translations, such as the NKJV, follow the very old tradition of interpolating lines indicating who is speaking, and to whom. Some consider that an unnecessary intrusion. Anyway, at the moment, we’re dealing with a woman who is crazy about some guy, and not afraid to say it, and in no uncertain terms.
Chapter One, verse Three: Because of the savour of thy good ointments thy name [is as] ointment poured forth, therefore do the virgins love thee.
There’s a pun here, by the way, which is that name is shem, and oil or ointment is shemen. She is saying that even your name is yummy. More than yummy, though. It’s shemen that is used to anoint kings, see 1 Sa 10:1, where Samuel anoints Saul, and 1 Sa 16:13, where Samuel anoints David (when that Saul thing doesn’t exactly work out), and 1 Ki 1:39, where Zadok anoints Solomon. Solomon? Oh, right, Solomon. It’s also shemen in Psalm 23:5, which is David again, of course. Remember this David business and this Solomon business, because I’m going to get fixated on it pretty soon. Going back to Solomon, it’s Solomon (supposedly) who says in that Ecc 7:1 tov shem mishemen, a good name is better than precious ointment. Isaiah also prophesies that shemen will destroy the yoke of the Assyrians from the neck of the people Israel—is the shemen the ointment, or the “fatness” or prosperity, or is it the Anointed One, the Messiah?
This, by the way, is how I read Scripture: Some word catches my eye, and I go through the concordance, looking for cross-references and resonances. When she says that the maidens love him because of his shem and his shemen, is she saying he is kingly, or sweet-smelling, or famous? Is he Solomon? Is he the Messiah? And then we’re back to the analogy, where her sweet-smelling fellow with the good name is the Divine Name, the King of Kings. But then, who are the virgins? The nations? Can it be said that the nations all love the King of Kings, because of his shem, his name, his reputation?
chazak, chazak, v’nitchazek,
-Vardibidian.
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