“I am black but lovely,” the bride of the Song insists to the daughters of Jerusalem. That judgment runs against the aesthetics of the time, according to which white, untarnished skin was a sign of beauty, as well as a sign of class distinction.
She is black because she was burned by the sun while working in the vineyard at the command of her brothers (1:6). Jenson rightly finds an allegory of exodus here. Yahweh punished Israel’s unfaithfulness in guarding her own vineyard by putting her to work in the hot sun (1:6). She turned dark as a result of her punishment. But she boasts that this very punishment has beautified her, and endeared her to her Lord.
Moral Certitude and the Iran War
The current military engagement with Iran calls renewed attention to just war theory in the Catholic tradition.…
The Slow Death of England: New and Notable Books
The fate of England is much in the news as popular resistance to mass immigration grows, limits…
Ethics of Rhetoric in Times of War
What we say matters. And the way we say it matters. This is especially true in times…