Song of Solomon 7:1–5

Song of Solomon 7:1 — "How beautiful are your feet in sandals, O prince's daughter!" The Hebrew bat-nādîb ("daughter of a noble" or "prince's daughter") immediately elevates the Beloved to royal status — she is not merely lovely but nobly born. The sandal in the ancient Near East was a mark of freedom and dignity (slaves went barefoot; cf. Ruth 4:7–8, where the sandal seals covenant). To praise the feet specifically is striking: feet in Hebrew poetry carry the weight of journey, mission, and approach. She is coming toward the Lover, and every step is beautiful. In the Septuagint tradition this verse opens the waṣf (a formal praise-poem cataloguing physical beauty), and the detail of sandals signals that this is no static portrait but a woman moving with purpose and grace. Origen, in his Commentary on the Song of Songs, reads the feet as the soul's moral foundation — the virtues upon which the entire life of grace is built. Just as beautiful feet carry the Good News in Isaiah 52:7 ("How beautiful on the mountains are the feet of him who brings good news"), so here the feet signal the soul's readiness for the Gospel.

Song of Solomon 7:2 — "Your body is like a round goblet / that never lacks mixed wine" (fuller Hebrew text) The Hebrew šōrēr likely refers to the navel or the hollow of the abdomen — a vessel-shaped curve. The comparison to a "round goblet" (aggan hassahar) that holds spiced wine evokes abundance, hospitality, and interior richness. Wine in biblical poetry is consistently associated with joy, covenant, and the superabundance of God's gifts (Ps 104:15; Jn 2). The body is not merely ornamental but generative — it holds life. Theologically, this image was applied by patristic writers, especially St. Ambrose, to the womb of Mary as the vessel of the Incarnation: the theotokos whose body became the chalice of salvation. The rounded goblet also echoes liturgical vessels — the Church as the container of sacramental grace.

Song of Solomon 7:3 — "Your two breasts are like two fawns, twins of a gazelle" This image recurs from 4:5, deepening its significance through repetition. Twin fawns suggest symmetry, youth, tenderness, and nourishment. Breasts in biblical literature are explicitly connected to maternal sustenance (Is 66:11: "that you may nurse and be satisfied from her consoling breast"). The gazelle — ṣəbî — carries associations of swiftness, beauty, and the beloved's own epithet elsewhere in the Song (2:9, 17). Bernard of Clairvaux in his Sermons on the Song of Songs reads the breasts as the two Testaments of Scripture, from which the soul draws the milk of divine wisdom. Augustine similarly sees them as the dual commandment of love — love of God and love of neighbor — both of which nourish the Church's children.

Song of Solomon 7:4 — "Your neck is like an ivory tower" The neck in ancient Near Eastern poetry represents dignity, uprightness, and strength — to bow the neck is submission; to have an "ivory tower" neck is queenly bearing. Ivory (šēn) was among the rarest, most precious materials in the ancient world, associated with Solomon's own throne (1 Kgs 10:18). The tower metaphor suggests both beauty and defense — she is not fragile. Origen and Cyril of Alexandria read this as the Church's doctrinal fidelity: firm, polished, imperishable in its confession of faith, resistant to the pressures of heresy. For Marian allegorists, the ivory tower neck becomes a type of Mary's singular purity — which is why the Litany of Loreto invokes her as Turris eburnea, "Tower of Ivory."

Song of Solomon 7:5 — "Your head crowns you like Carmel, and your flowing locks are like purple" Mount Carmel — ha-Karmel, "the garden-land" — was the most lush, forested, and revered summit in Israel, a place of prophetic encounter (Elijah, 1 Kgs 18) and divine presence. To crown the Beloved's head with Carmel is to say she reaches the height of created beauty, that she is herself a sacred height. The purple hair (argāmān) evokes royalty, since purple dye was extraordinarily costly in antiquity, reserved for kings. The King is "held captive in her tresses" — the Lover himself is arrested by her. The movement of the waṣf climaxes here: from humble, sandaled feet to a purple-crowned, Carmel-like head, the Beloved has been enthroned in the imagination of the Lover. The soul in grace, the Church in her fullness, and Mary in her Immaculate glory are all, in the Catholic reading, "crowned" at the summit of this praise.

Catholic tradition approaches the Song of Solomon through what Pope Benedict XVI, in Deus Caritas Est (§§5–7), calls the integration of eros and agapē: human erotic love, at its most intense, already reaches toward and is transformed by divine love. These verses are not an embarrassment to be allegorized away but a revelation through the body — the Theology of the Body principle that St. John Paul II articulated in his Wednesday audiences (1979–1984): the human body, in its spousal meaning, is a "primordial sacrament," a visible sign of invisible divine love.

The Catholic tradition has, however, consistently held multiple simultaneous senses (CCC §115–119). At the allegorical level, the Church Fathers and medieval doctors read the Beloved as (1) the individual soul in mystical union with God, and (2) the Church as the Bride of Christ (Eph 5:25–32). Origen's Commentary — the foundational patristic text on the Song — is explicit: "this book treats of the union of the soul with its Maker." Bernard of Clairvaux's 86 Sermones super Cantica Canticorum form the high-water mark of medieval mystical exegesis, reading each detail as a stage in contemplative ascent.

The specifically Marian reading reaches its fullest expression in the Litany of Loreto, formally approved by Sixtus V in 1587, which draws directly on these verses: Turris eburnea (ivory tower, v. 4) and the royal dignity of bat-nādîb (v. 1) underpin the title Regina — Queen. Vatican II's Lumen Gentium (§63–65) situates Mary as the eschatological icon of the Church, the one in whom the Bride's beauty is already fully realized. The Catechism (§773) echoes this: "Mary goes before us all in the holiness that is the Church's mystery." These verses, read in the light of Tradition, are nothing less than a doxology to the mystery of grace perfecting human nature.

Contemporary Catholics inhabit a culture simultaneously obsessed with and degraded by the body — the body as commodity, as performance, as something to be optimized or displayed. Song of Solomon 7:1–5 offers a startling counter-witness: the body beheld in love is inexhaustibly beautiful, and that beauty is inherently dignified (she is a prince's daughter). For Catholic couples, this passage invites the practice of truly seeing one's spouse — not with the evaluating gaze of the culture, but with the wondering gaze of the Lover here, who moves from foot to crown and finds glory at every point.

For those in the contemplative or spiritual life, the passage is an invitation to hear God's own delight in the soul. Ignatius of Loyola's Spiritual Exercises encourage the exercitant to "feel consolation" in God's love — these verses literalize that consolation: God looks at the soul in grace and says, you are beautiful. That is not sentimentality; it is baptismal reality (CCC §1265). A concrete practice: use this waṣf structure as a model for a daily examen of gratitude, moving through the gifts of embodied life from the ground up — recognizing each capacity and faculty as grace-given and worthy of praise.