Song of Solomon

I like to note what people read while on the train, and there are a good amount that read the bible. It's worth cracking, an understatement to holy rollers everywhere, and a scary thought to others.

Really, it's really good.

Years ago I taught Sunday school. Loved it. I taught teens, the age group no one wants, and I loved it. At that age, we're all trying to figure out right from wrong, black from white. And I tried to get the kids to understand that you don't have to give up your religion in order to play soccer.

Anyway, one of the things I had to do with the class is go on a retreat with them every year. I hated this. Some retreat packed with Ned Flanders and some serious crazy people, some hard-core fundamentalists. Anyway, without getting too deep into this, and I only had to do this a couple of years, I'd crack open my bible and start reading, trying to look holy and pious. And every time I'd open to the Song of Solomon, the dirtiest part of the bible. Well, not dirty. It's actually very beautiful, but if they knew that I was getting my rocks off reading the bible, well, the bible wasn't meant for that.

Oh yes it was.

Chapter 4

Behold, thou art fair, my love; behold, thou art fair; thou hast doves' eyes within thy locks: thy hair is as a flock of goats, that appear from mount Gilead.
Thy teeth are like a flock of sheep that are even shorn, which came up from the washing; whereof every one bear twins, and none is barren among them.
Thy lips are like a thread of scarlet, and thy speech is comely: thy temples are like a piece of a pomegranate within thy locks.
Thy neck is like the tower of David builded for an armoury, whereon there hang a thousand bucklers, all shields of mighty men.
Thy two breasts are like two young roes that are twins, which feed among the lilies.
Until the day break, and the shadows flee away, I will get me to the mountain of myrrh, and to the hill of frankincense.
Thou art all fair, my love; there is no spot in thee.
Come with me from Lebanon, my spouse, with me from Lebanon: look from the top of Amana, from the top of Shenir and Hermon, from the lions' dens, from the mountains of the leopards.
Thou hast ravished my heart, my sister, my spouse; thou hast ravished my heart with one of thine eyes, with one chain of thy neck.
How fair is thy love, my sister, my spouse! how much better is thy love than wine! and the smell of thine ointments than all spices!
Thy lips, O my spouse, drop as the honeycomb: honey and milk are under thy tongue; and the smell of thy garments is like the smell of Lebanon.
A garden inclosed is my sister, my spouse; a spring shut up, a fountain sealed.
Thy plants are an orchard of pomegranates, with pleasant fruits; camphire, with spikenard,
Spikenard and saffron; calamus and cinnamon, with all trees of frankincense; myrrh and aloes, with all the chief spices:
A fountain of gardens, a well of living waters, and streams from Lebanon.
Awake, O north wind; and come, thou south; blow upon my garden, that the spices thereof may flow out. Let my beloved come into his garden, and eat his pleasant fruits.