Rest follows a feast to allow for the restoration of strength and health within the body. Hence, after this celebration, the bride succumbs to slumber. However, this sleep is unusual, defying natural order; typically, one who slumbers is not awake, and the awake are not in slumber—the two states alternately yield to one another. Yet, within the bride, we observe a remarkable fusion of opposites. She declares, “I sleep, but my heart is watchful.” How should we interpret this? Sleep symbolizes death, since in sleep all sensory activities of the body cease: sight, hearing, smell, taste, and touch remain dormant, which is inherent to their nature. Conversely, sleep relaxes the physical faculties, even inducing forgetfulness of one’s anxieties, quelling fears, calming irritations, and dulling the impact of calamities as long as one possesses the body. Thus, it is clear that she, who boasts of this state by stating, “I sleep, but my heart watches,” has risen beyond herself. Indeed, when the mind exists independently, undisturbed by sensory experiences, the body's nature becomes inactive, akin to sleeping in a dream or a tomb. It is accurate to assert that the vision sleeps due to inactivity, since it disregards those sights that commonly astonish children’s eyes—not only the attractions of earthly possessions such as gold, silver, and precious stones that incite greed due to their alluring colors, but also the celestial wonders, such as the stars, the sun's radiance, and the moon's diverse appearances. Since nothing remains constant, all of creation shifts and changes with time. Upon gazing at true treasures, these things fade into insignificance, thus leaving the bodily eye inactive, as the soul, having grown more perfect, is no longer drawn to what they reveal, instead focusing the mind on that which transcends the tangible. Likewise, hearing becomes dull and unresponsive as the soul is preoccupied with what surpasses mere cognition. No further discourse is necessary regarding the more primal senses, which like a stench from decay are far removed from the soul, drawn to scents that appeal to the flesh, which, along with taste and touch, serves a base and blind instinct, seemingly created for the merely blind in essence.
When inactivity possesses these faculties as though in a dreamlike state, the heart's activity shines purely, with the mind lifting its gaze toward the heights, unperturbed by sensory distractions. Human pleasure presents itself in dual forms: one arising from spiritual peace within the soul, the other from bodily desires. The choice made by the will dictates which prevails. For instance, if someone is captivated by sensory experiences, drawn by the pleasures they bring, which are generated in the body, they will traverse life without experiencing the Divine joy, burdened by the inferior. However, those yearning for the Divine find the true good untarnished, deeming all fleshly delights unworthy of pursuit. Hence, when the soul delights solely in contemplation, it remains unaffected by anything that seeks to satiate the senses. By quieting every physical impulse with unadulterated thought, it receives divine revelations, a blessed state that we, too, may attain through reminiscent vigilance concerning Christ Jesus. To Him be glory forever and ever! Amen.
This exemplifies one of the Lord’s great commandments, wherein the mind, instructed by sacred teachings, is prompted to rise like a feather shedding worldly matters, aspiring toward higher realms. Those aspiring to a more profound existence must rise above slumber, remaining ever vigilant, as if a seducer guiding the soul and a seeker of truth, dispelling sleepiness—namely, that languor and dreamy notion arising from worldly temptations: authority, wealth, supremacy, pride, the allure of pleasures, glory, and ambitions—all that in this life, through mere empty notions, is desired, fleeting with the transitory flow of time, merely existing in perception, not as it truly is, and even existing perceptions shift, emerging and vanishing like waves cresting upon water, stirred momentarily by gales before yielding to calm seas. Thus, for our thoughts to be free from such illusions, the Word exhorts us to awaken from this heavy slumber, lest we lose sight of what is truly substantial for fleeting fantasies.
Therefore, the Word calls us to be awake, declaring: “Let your loins be girded, and burning lamps in your hands” (Luke 12:35), for light dispels darkness, and tight girding of the loins prevents the body from yielding to sleep; the toils of labor foster wakefulness. The metaphor here is evident: he who is girded with purity lives in the light of a clear conscience, as the flames of boldness illuminate a life untouched by deception, remaining steadfast against the shadows of frivolous dreams. Should one strive under the guidance of the Word, an angelic life will accompany, for God’s decree likens us to those of whom He states: “And you are like men who wait for their Lord, when he returns from the wedding, that when he comes and knocks, they may open to him” (Luke 12:36). They also anticipate the Lord’s return, keeping watch at the gates of heaven, so that the King of Glory, upon returning from the wedding, may again enter their heavenly jubilation. Hence, “like a bridegroom” the Psalmist declares, “coming forth from the altar” (Psalm 18:6), for He has betrothed us to Himself, redeeming a nature beset by idolatry, transforming it through a mysterious rebirth into pure beauty. After the marriage was fulfilled, and the Church introduced to the Word, as John states: “He who has the bride is the bridegroom” (John 3:29), and after the Church was brought into the sanctity of the sacraments, the angels anticipated the King’s return.
Thus, we should imitate their lives, remaining devoid of vice and deceit, prepared to receive the returning Lord. Like them, we too must guard the thresholds of our temporary existence, ready to heed His call when He knocks at the door. Blessed, indeed, are those servants whom the Lord finds vigilant (Luke 12:37). Certainly, it is blessed to heed the call of Him who knocks; hence, the soul, continuously safeguarding its treasures, mindful of heavenly bliss, perceives the One who stands at the door and declares, “The voice of my Brother knocks at the door.” From these words, one can grasp the bride's ascent to the Divine; she who confidently rebuffed desolation while attracting a radiant breeze, cultivating gardens of fragrant thorns, and offering her essence to the Lord of Creation as a banquet, rejected nothing that was offered; rather, everything was exquisite, evidenced by the aroma, sweetness of bread, and richness of wine mixed with milk. Her perfection is affirmed by the Word, which states: “All goodness is yours, and there is no blemish in you” (Song of Songs 4:7). Now, as she prepares for the first time to welcome the Divine presence—yet to encounter and embrace the Word awaiting at her door—she perceives the allure of His voice as miraculous. It is noted that the voice of the Bridegroom does not strike her in person, but upon her door: “the voice of my Brother knocks at the door.”
Can we not see how boundless is the journey towards God, how that which has transpired serves as merely the beginning of that which is above? The bride had hoped for some pause in her ascent. After witnessing such perfection, what more could be sought? Yet, we observe that she remains within her home, has not exited the door, nor has she savored the sight of the One who comes; she travels only through hearing to a communion of blessings. From this we can discern a rich teaching: the apostolic counsel is perpetually pertinent to those who excel in significant matters, echoing the words: “If anyone thinks he knows anything, he does not yet know as he ought to know” (1 Corinthians 8:2). For in what has come before, the soul has perceived the Bridegroom only to the extent of its understanding. Since that yet-uncomprehended is infinitely more than what has been grasped, the Bridegroom time and again reveals Himself to the soul, but now approaches as the One not yet visually apprehended. To clarify this notion, let me offer an analogy: akin to being beside a spring that, as Scripture says, was “brought forth out of the earth” in such abundance that it “covered the whole face of the earth” (Genesis 2:6), the nearer one approaches the spring, the more one marvels at the inexhaustible “limitless” waters that it possesses and pours forth, yet one cannot claim to have seen all that water (for how can one perceive what lies hidden beneath the surface?). Even if one lingers at that overflowing spring, they can only grasp the beginning of such splendor, for the waters flow endlessly, continually emerging. So too does one who beholds this divine and ineffable beauty, for that which awaits is perpetually more wondrous and divine than what has already been perceived. Thus, just as the bride, continually awestruck by what she witnesses, remains unsatisfied with her past encounters, her desire to see more remains unquenched. This is why, sensing the Word knocking at the door, she responds in readiness, exclaiming, “The voice of my Brother knocks at the door.”
Having quieted her hearing, she attends to the voice of the broadcasting Word: “Open unto Me, My sister, My neighbour, My dove, My perfect one; for My head is filled with dew, and My locks with the drops of the night.” The meaning of this may be understood by those making themselves such a view. For the great Moses experienced divine revelation beginning with light; God spoke with him in a cloud, and in his advancement to higher perfection, he perceived God in the darkness. From this, we derive profound insights: the initial departure from erroneous perceptions of God involves the transition from darkness to light. More profound discernment of the hidden guides the soul toward the nature of the unseeable, much like a cloud obscuring what is visible and directing the soul to focus on concealed truths. The soul, reaching as far as human capability allows toward the exalted, leaves the mundane behind and enters into the sanctuary of God, shrouded by Divine obscurity, where all things seen and comprehensible are cast outside, leaving only the invisible and ineffable for the soul to behold. Here lies God, just as the Scriptures state of the lawgiver: “But Moses entered into the darkness, where God was” (Exodus 20:21).
Upon reflection, we must contemplate the affinity between the spoken words and those brought to our attention. The bride was once darkened by erroneous teachings and was likened to blackness, for the sun, that burnt reality, scorched the seeds not rooted in solid ground because of trials. Overwhelmed by previous attachments, she yielded her grapes, for, in her ignorance, she tended to flocks of goats instead of sheep. But once she severed ties with evil and yearned to bring her lips close to the Source of light in a sacred union, she became radiant, illuminated by the truth and cleansed of the darkness of ignorance. She is compared to horses for her swiftness and likened to a dove for her discerning thoughts. Like horses, after traversing the visible and comprehensible, and like a dove that has soared over all earthly matters, she finds rest in the shade of an apple tree, referring to the apple tree for its shelter rather than a mere cloud; enveloped now in Divine night, wherein the Bridegroom, despite His nearness, remains unseen. For how might the invisible manifest in darkness? Yet, while He offers the soul some perception of His presence, He evades clear understanding, veiling Himself in the hiddenness of His nature.
THEOSIS