Ps. 45.8 (robes of myrrh)

“All your robes / are myrrh, / aloes and cassia; - from ivory palaces / stringed instruments / delight you.” Here, just before the king’s bride comes into focus, we are again focusing on the bodily appearance of the king. And, importantly, we are again focusing on his clothing. This theme, of clothing, enters here for the second time but will also follow into the description of the bride as well. In the first instance, the ‘clothing’ of the king was his war gear (his sword and his “splendor and majesty”). There, the clothing was intended to portray the realm of authorial power that the king inhabits. It was the outward expression of his regal presence much like “glory” is the sensorial presence of God when he displays himself. Clothing in this sense is anything but concealment; it is, in fact, the revealing of person in the most profound manner. Here, as the king prepares himself to meet his bride his clothing is, strange to say, similar to his war-gear: it is meant to conquer his bride through her desire for him. His sword is now his fragrance. The sensorial effect of these lines is, and should be, inebriating. The olfactory sense is overwhelmed in beauty as the aural sense is as well with music. Everything is heightened and, thereby, revealed. We should not downplay or overlook this detail: in these lines the body’s senses are as essential in perceiving the “beauty” (vs. 2) of the king as was the ability to perceive his “splendor and majesty” in battle. There is enough in this psalm to rejoice in the more abstract qualities of a king, but not here—here, Adam is being prepared to meet his bride and it is therefore crucial that, before here appearance, the psalm moves from the epic of battle to the domestic of bodily adornment. In reality, the psalm is, in a sense, reaching its height in these verses precisely because of the fact that it is a wedding hymn—this celebration of the joining of the two is its goal, such that usual images of kingship (dispensing of justice; martial victory) serve as a backdrop in order to highlight this covenantal union.  We might even propose this: in light of our previous ‘interlude’, it is this marriage that will be the union through which the covenant of David will pass; in their union they will create another ‘image’ who will become the ‘new David’ and the heir to the covenantal power given to David. It is, then, in and from this hidden, yet central, union that all of promises must pass. Our gaze tends toward the epic—yet, here, we see that such epic qualities are necessarily posterior to this wedding. It is an utterly shocking realization to come to: that the ‘everlasting’ quality of every oath given by God is one that must flow through and begin again in a wedding.