Bernard of Clairvaux
About Bernard of Clairvaux
In the summer of 1115, the 25-year-old Bernard of Clairvaux was sent out from Cîteaux by his abbot Stephen Harding to found a daughter-house in the Vallée d'Absinthe (the Valley of Wormwood) in Champagne; by the time he died in 1153, the abbey he built there — Clairvaux — had spawned sixty-eight direct daughter foundations, and the wider Cistercian network he shepherded reached three hundred and forty-three houses. Born into the minor Burgundian nobility at Fontaine-lès-Dijon to Tescelin le Roux, a knight in the service of the Duke of Burgundy, and Aleth of Montbard, Bernard received the standard secular literary education available to a noble son destined for knighthood or the clergy: Latin grammar, some rhetoric, and the basic curriculum at the canons' school of Saint-Vorles at Châtillon-sur-Seine. His mother died when he was about seventeen, an event the Vita Prima of William of Saint-Thierry and Geoffrey of Auxerre describes as the opening of his religious crisis.
He entered the struggling reformist abbey of Cîteaux in 1113 at the age of twenty-three, bringing with him, according to the early Cistercian Exordium Magnum and the Vita Prima, roughly thirty kinsmen and friends — among them four of his own brothers — an entry event so consequential that it functions as the founding myth of Cistercian expansion. Cîteaux had been established in 1098 by Robert of Molesme, Alberic, and Stephen Harding as a return to the literal observance of the Rule of Saint Benedict, and by 1113 the experiment was on the edge of collapse: its austere regime had produced no vocations for more than a decade and its founding generation was aging. Bernard's arrival reversed the trajectory.
In 1115, at twenty-five, Stephen Harding sent him with twelve companions to found a daughter house in a remote clearing in Champagne, on land donated by Count Hugh of Troyes, that Bernard named Claire Vallée — Clairvaux. He served as its abbot without interruption for thirty-eight years until his death. The early years at Clairvaux were punishingly austere; Bernard's ascetic regime damaged his health permanently, and the Vita Prima records that from his thirties onward he suffered from chronic gastric illness and could not eat a normal monastic diet. William of Saint-Thierry's attempt to persuade him to moderate his discipline is one of the most human moments in the early Cistercian record. By 1153, Clairvaux had directly founded sixty-eight daughter houses, and the wider Cistercian network — a federation bound together by the Charter of Charity (Carta Caritatis), drafted at Cîteaux under Stephen Harding by c. 1114 and approved by Pope Callixtus II in 1119 — comprised 343 houses across Latin Christendom. Bernard did not invent the Cistercian reform; he made it irresistible. His intellectual and spiritual gravity pulled in recruits, patrons, and imitators at a rate no other twelfth-century abbot matched, and the resulting Cistercian network became one of the defining institutions of high-medieval Europe.
His public role exceeded the abbatial office. During the papal schism of 1130–1138 he traveled extensively in France, Germany, and Italy to secure recognition for Innocent II against the rival claimant Anacletus II, and his support was decisive; his letters from these years (letters 124–147 in the SBOp arrangement) read as a one-man diplomatic corps. At the Council of Sens in 1141 he led the prosecution against Peter Abelard's Trinitarian teaching and produced a condemnation that Abelard appealed to Rome before dying en route at Cluny under the protection of Peter the Venerable. In 1145 his former Clairvaux novice Bernard Paganelli was elected Pope Eugenius III — the first Cistercian pope — and Bernard composed for him the five-book pastoral treatise De Consideratione, a warning against the corrosions of curial administration. In 1146 he preached the Second Crusade at Vézelay on Palm Sunday, 31 March 1146, before King Louis VII, and the catastrophic failure of that Crusade in 1148 tempered but did not dissolve his authority. He also intervened in Languedoc against the early Cathar preachers in 1145, validated the visions of Hildegard of Bingen in a letter of 1146/1147 and at the Synod of Trier, opposed Gilbert of Poitiers at Reims in 1148, and died at Clairvaux in August 1153 after a long illness, outliving his own Pope Eugenius III by barely six weeks.
His intellectual arc moves from administrative and polemical writing in the 1120s — the Apologia to William of Saint-Thierry, the treatises on humility and on grace — into the sustained mystical masterpiece of his middle and late years: the eighty-six Sermons on the Song of Songs, begun around 1135 and left unfinished at Song 3:3 at his death. The Sermons inherit the allegorical template Origen had established in the third century — the Song read as the soul's union with the divine Word — and develop it into the fullest Western articulation of bridal mysticism, providing the template for William of Saint-Thierry, Hadewijch, the Rhineland mystics, Teresa of Ávila, and John of the Cross. Bernard was canonized by Pope Alexander III on 18 January 1174, only twenty-one years after his death, and Pope Pius VIII declared him Doctor of the Church in 1830 with the title Doctor Mellifluus — the honey-sweet Doctor — drawn from the medieval legend of the bees that allegedly settled on his infant mouth as a prophecy of his later eloquence.
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Contributions
Bernard's theological contribution runs along five main axes: the degrees-of-love synthesis, the Song of Songs bridal mysticism, the twelve degrees of humility, the Cistercian reform itself as a lived theology, and the twelfth-century reorientation of Latin piety toward the humanity of Christ and the Virgin.
In De Diligendo Deo (On Loving God, c. 1126) he set out the four degrees of love that became one of the most influential maps of the spiritual life in the Western tradition. The first degree is love of self for the self's sake, the natural starting condition. The second is love of God for the self's sake — the soul turns toward God because God meets its need, for protection, providence, forgiveness, the answer to prayer. The third is love of God for God's own sake, the proper disposition of the soul in this life, in which the soul loves God because God is worthy of love. The fourth is love of self for God's sake: the soul loves itself only insofar as it exists in God, its own particularity dissolved into the divine will. Bernard holds that this fourth degree is almost never reached in this life and is properly eschatological, reserved for the beatitude in which the soul, as he puts it in De Diligendo Deo X.28, is "poured out like a drop of water into a cask of wine," taking on the color and taste of the wine while remaining substantially itself. The schema anchors affective piety in a graduated ascent rather than a sudden rupture and is picked up by Richard of Saint-Victor, Bonaventure, and the later Franciscan tradition.
The Sermons on the Song of Songs (Sermones super Cantica Canticorum, c. 1135–1153) are the mystical centerpiece. Inheriting Origen's allegorical reading of the Song, Bernard develops the soul-as-Bride and Christ-as-Bridegroom scheme into a sustained theology of spiritual desire. Sermons 3 and 4 lay out the three-kiss schema drawn from Song 1:2 — the kiss of the feet (penitence, the soul prostrate before Christ's humanity, the stage of Mary Magdalene at Luke 7), the kiss of the hand (progress, the soul receiving the gifts of grace that lift it from prostration to standing), and the kiss of the mouth (mystical union, the soul receiving the Bridegroom's Spirit directly, breath to breath). Sermon 23 develops the doctrine of the contemplative visit and the three rooms of the Bridegroom's house. Sermons 74 and 83 contain his most direct first-person mystical language, including the admission in Sermon 74 that the Word visits the soul not by any outward motion but only by the motion of the heart. The erotic imagery of the biblical text is read wholly spiritually, with explicit warnings against sensual misreading, yet Bernard does not dilute the heat of the imagery. The resulting bridal-mystical idiom becomes the dominant Latin vocabulary for union with God: William of Saint-Thierry's Exposition on the Song of Songs, the Beguine mystics of the Low Countries, Hadewijch's strophische gedichten, Mechthild of Magdeburg's Flowing Light, the anonymous Ancrene Wisse, Teresa of Ávila's Interior Castle, and John of the Cross's Spiritual Canticle all stand downstream of Bernard's Sermons.
In De Gradibus Humilitatis et Superbiae (On the Degrees of Humility and Pride, c. 1120), his earliest major work, Bernard inverts the twelve-rung ladder of humility in chapter seven of the Rule of Saint Benedict into a matching diagnostic map of twelve degrees of pride — from curiosity (the first step down) through levity, boasting, singularity, arrogance, self-conceit, presumption, self-justification, confession without repentance, defiance, habit of sinning, and contempt of God. Humility is the precondition for charity, which is the precondition for contemplation, which is the precondition for union; the architecture is Augustinian but the psychological acuity is Bernard's own.
On the monastic and institutional side, Bernard's spirituality insisted on the literal Benedictine Rule: manual labor as a spiritual discipline, communal liturgy stripped of Cluniac elaboration, architectural austerity in white unadorned churches with no sculpture in cloisters and no colored glass, vegetarian diet, silence, poverty. His Apologia to William of Saint-Thierry (c. 1125) is at once a defense of Cistercian reform against Cluniac critique and a withering denunciation of the sculptural and liturgical excess of the great black-monk houses — "what is that ridiculous monstrosity doing in the cloisters?" (quid facit in claustris illa ridicula monstruositas) — language that shaped twelfth-century Cistercian aesthetics for generations and that later readers from Goethe to modernist architects have drawn on for their own rejections of ornament.
Bernard also reoriented Latin devotion toward the humanity of Christ: the infant in the manger, the suffering figure on the cross, the pierced side from which Song-of-Songs exegesis drew the wound-as-opening image. This christocentric affective turn runs through his Sermons on the Nativity and his hymnody (the tradition of Jesu dulcis memoria and the Salve Mundi Salutare are medieval, Bernardine in spirit though not always in direct authorship) and flows into the Franciscan piety of Francis, Bonaventure, Ludolph of Saxony, and the Imitation of Christ of Thomas à Kempis. His Marian corpus — the Homilies in Praise of the Virgin Mother (In Laudibus Virginis Matris, four homilies on Luke 1:26–38's Missus est angelus Gabriel), the sermons for the Assumption, the Nativity, and the Purification of Mary, and the Sermon for the Sunday in the Octave of the Assumption — made him the twelfth century's most influential Marian preacher and gave Dante the reason to choose him as the pilgrim's final guide in the Paradiso.
Works
Bernard's literary output is unusually large for a working abbot: a critical edition (Sancti Bernardi Opera, SBOp) edited by Jean Leclercq, Henri Rochais, and Charles Talbot across eight volumes from the Editiones Cistercienses in Rome between 1957 and 1977 now stands as the standard reference. English readers are best served by the Cistercian Fathers Series (Cistercian Publications) and the Classics of Western Spirituality volume edited by G. R. Evans.
The Sermons on the Song of Songs (Sermones super Cantica Canticorum, 86 sermons, begun 1135, unfinished at his death in 1153) are the single central work. Sermons 1–3 establish the programme; sermons 3–4 articulate the three-kiss schema; sermons 23 and 31 develop the doctrine of the contemplative visit; sermons 74 and 83 contain his most direct first-person mystical language; sermon 83 formulates the affirmation that the soul in love with God resembles God not by nature but by likeness of will. Kilian Walsh and Irene Edmonds translated the full cycle across four volumes for Cistercian Publications between 1971 and 1980.
De Diligendo Deo (On Loving God, c. 1126) is Bernard's compact treatise on the four degrees of love, written for Cardinal Haimeric. De Gradibus Humilitatis et Superbiae (On the Degrees of Humility and Pride, c. 1120) inverts Benedict's twelve-rung ladder of humility into a matching diagnosis of twelve degrees of pride. De Gratia et Libero Arbitrio (On Grace and Free Choice, c. 1128), addressed to William of Saint-Thierry, is Bernard's most sustained doctrinal treatise and locates him squarely within the Augustinian tradition on predestination and grace while resisting any simplistic determinism.
De Consideratione (On Consideration, 1148–1153) is the five-book pastoral treatise written to his former novice Pope Eugenius III; it develops a triple contemplation — self, what is below self, what is above self — and remains one of the most unflinching medieval critiques of papal administrative distraction. The Apologia to William of Saint-Thierry (c. 1125) defends Cistercian reform against Cluniac critique. The Liber ad Milites Templi (c. 1128–1136) was written at the request of Hugh of Payens, first Grand Master of the Templars, and helped shape the theological self-understanding of the new military-religious orders.
The Homilies in Praise of the Virgin Mother (In Laudibus Virginis Matris, four homilies on Luke 1:26–38) and the sermons for the liturgical Marian feasts are the Marian corpus. The Life of Malachy (Vita Sancti Malachiae, 1149) is Bernard's hagiographical biography of the Irish reformer Malachy of Armagh who died in Bernard's arms at Clairvaux in 1148. Finally, the Epistolarium preserves over 500 letters in the SBOp edition and is a primary source for twelfth-century ecclesiastical history.
Controversies
Bernard's public life generated four genuine controversies that honest treatment cannot soften.
The confrontation with Peter Abelard at the Council of Sens in June 1141 is the hardest to defend on procedural grounds. Abelard had requested a public disputation with Bernard at Sens to answer charges that his Theologia Scholarium contained Trinitarian errors. Bernard, according to the Historia Calamitatum tradition and the reconstructions of Jean Leclercq and Constant Mews, privately met with the assembled bishops the night before the scheduled debate and read out a list of propositions extracted from Abelard's work (fourteen or nineteen, depending on the manuscript tradition), securing their condemnation in advance. When Abelard arrived the next morning to find his positions already judged, he refused to defend them and appealed directly to Rome. He died at Cluny the following year, his appeal never heard. Bernard's polemical tone — the letters to Pope Innocent II denounce Abelard as "a monk without a rule, a prelate without responsibility" — is harder to read sympathetically than almost anything else in his corpus. The theological substance of the disagreement concerned genuine points about the Trinitarian relations, the role of reason in theology, and the nature of the Atonement, and Bernard's positions were not simply reactionary; his method, however, was an ambush trial.
The preaching of the Second Crusade is the second. After the fall of Edessa in 1144, Pope Eugenius III commissioned Bernard to preach a new Crusade. His sermon at Vézelay on 31 March 1146 drew an enormous crowd, and his preaching tour through the Rhineland across 1146 and 1147 enlisted Conrad III of Germany and intervened to halt anti-Jewish pogroms being stirred up by the Cistercian monk Radulf (his letter to the archbishop of Mainz defending the Jewish communities is one of the cleanest documents in his corpus). The Crusade itself, launched in 1147, was a near-total military disaster; both the German and French armies were shattered in Anatolia, and the attempt to take Damascus in July 1148 collapsed in four days. Bernard's own reflection in the second book of De Consideratione treats the failure as divine judgment on Christendom's sins rather than as a refutation of the Crusade's theological legitimacy — a move that modern readers will find self-serving, and a reader is right to sit with that discomfort without resolving it.
The Wendish Crusade rhetoric of 1147 is the third and most difficult. In parallel with preaching the eastern Crusade, Bernard endorsed the papal bull Divina Dispensatione extending Crusade indulgences to campaigns against the pagan Wendish Slavs in the Baltic. His letter to the German nobility calling for the Wends to be converted or destroyed — usually rendered from the Latin as aut ritus ipse aut natio deleatur, "either the rite or the people is to be wiped out" — is the most extreme formulation of Crusade ideology in his corpus. The Wendish Crusade produced atrocities without producing conversions. No sympathetic reading of Bernard's thought can set this document aside.
The attempted prosecution of Gilbert of Poitiers (Gilbert of la Porrée) at the Council of Reims in 1148 is the fourth. Bernard tried to extract a condemnation of Gilbert's commentary on Boethius's Opuscula Sacra for allegedly teaching a real distinction between God and the divinity (divinitas). Gilbert defended himself with precision and the council cleared him; Bernard's overreach here foreshadows the later Cathar-hunting Cistercian abbots of the Albigensian Crusade. Against these four episodes, the 1146/1147 letter to Hildegard of Bingen validating her visions and his subsequent intervention at the Synod of Trier (1147/1148) that secured Eugenius III's approval of her prophetic vocation deserves honest weight on the other side of the ledger: without Bernard's sponsorship, Hildegard's work might never have reached institutional audibility.
Notable Quotes
"The cause of loving God is God; the measure, to love without measure." — De Diligendo Deo I.1 (Latin: causa diligendi Deum, Deus est; modus, sine modo diligere).
"Love is sufficient of itself, it gives pleasure by itself and because of itself. It is its own merit, its own reward. Love looks for no cause outside itself, no effect beyond itself. Its profit lies in its practice. I love because I love, I love that I may love." — Sermon 83 on the Song of Songs, §4 (trans. Walsh and Edmonds).
"We find rest in those we love, and we provide a resting place in ourselves for those who love us." — paraphrased from Sermon 83 on the Song of Songs, §6.
"As a little drop of water poured into a large quantity of wine seems to lose its own nature entirely and to take on both the taste and the color of the wine… so it will be necessary for the saints, in that ineffable way, wholly to pass over into the will of God." — De Diligendo Deo X.28.
"Learn, Christian, from Christ how you ought to love Christ. Learn a love that is tender, wise, and strong: tender, that you may not be seduced; wise, that you may not be deceived; strong, that you may not be separated by any tribulation from the love of God." — Sermon 20 on the Song of Songs, §4.
Legacy
Bernard's legacy moves along three tracks — the institutional Cistercian machine, the Western mystical lineage, and the broader devotional culture of Latin Christendom — and each has its own arc into the modern period.
The Cistercian Order Bernard inherited and enlarged passed through its medieval high point in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, founding some 750 male houses and roughly 900 female houses across Europe at peak. The Cistercian architectural program — the plain unadorned church, the cloister without figural sculpture, the emphasis on light and proportion — produced Pontigny, Fontenay, Sénanque, Le Thoronet, Rievaulx, Fountains, Tintern, Alcobaça, and Poblet, among the most austere and influential religious buildings of the Middle Ages. The Order splintered in the late Middle Ages, reformed again as the Trappists in the seventeenth century under Armand Jean le Bouthillier de Rancé at La Trappe, and re-entered twentieth-century consciousness through Thomas Merton, whose Seven Storey Mountain (1948) and later contemplative writings made Gethsemani Abbey in Kentucky one of the most visible American monastic sites and put Bernardine spirituality back into the hands of lay readers.
On the mystical track, Bernard's Sermons on the Song of Songs became the indispensable source-text for Western bridal mysticism. William of Saint-Thierry's Golden Epistle (Epistola Aurea ad Fratres de Monte Dei, c. 1145) systematizes the Cistercian-Bernardine theology for Carthusian readers; Aelred of Rievaulx's De Spiritali Amicitia Cistercianizes Cicero's De Amicitia; Guerric of Igny, Isaac of Stella, and Gilbert of Hoyland together constitute what scholars call the "white school" of twelfth-century mystical theology. The bridal idiom then passes to the Beguines — Hadewijch of Brabant, Mechthild of Magdeburg — to Richard of Saint-Victor's Four Degrees of Violent Love, and through them into the sixteenth-century Spanish Carmelite high point: Teresa of Ávila's Interior Castle, John of the Cross's Spiritual Canticle (itself a direct rewriting of the Song of Songs), and the whole Discalced Carmelite contemplative tradition. Bernard Lonergan and Bernard McGinn in the twentieth century restored the specifically mystical-theological reading of Bernard after a long period of pious domestication.
Dante's choice of Bernard as the pilgrim's final guide in Paradiso 31–33 is the most visible premodern verdict on his stature. When Beatrice returns to her seat in the celestial rose at Paradiso 31.59, it is Bernard — "quel contemplante" (that contemplative one, 31.111) — who takes over for the final ascent to the Beatific Vision. Bernard delivers the great prayer to the Virgin at Paradiso 33.1–39 ("Vergine madre, figlia del tuo figlio, / umile e alta più che creatura") before the pilgrim's final act of seeing. The placement is not incidental. Dante's structural argument is that scholastic theology, even in its highest form (Aquinas in Paradiso 10–13), can guide the soul only so far; the final ascent requires the contemplative Bernard, because only the mystic sees what the scholastic can articulate but not inhabit. The Paradiso cemented Bernard's position in Western imagination as the paradigmatic Christian mystic, a position he held through the Renaissance, the Baroque, and — through the Trappist revival, Merton, and the twentieth-century recovery of contemplative literature — into the present.
Modern academic reception has been uneven but serious. Étienne Gilson's La Théologie Mystique de Saint Bernard (1934) established the philosophical seriousness of Bernard's mystical writing. Jean Leclercq's decades of textual work produced the SBOp critical edition and the classic study The Love of Learning and the Desire for God (1957). Bernard McGinn's The Growth of Mysticism (1994), volume two of his Presence of God series, gives Bernard the fullest English-language analytical treatment. Michael Casey and Denys Turner have defended Bernard against the modern suspicion that bridal mysticism is merely sublimated eros. The controversies — Abelard, the Crusades, Gilbert — remain openly debated in the scholarship rather than suppressed, which is the right way to read a major figure.
Significance
Bernard matters to the cross-tradition seeker for three reasons that sit at the joints of the Western contemplative tradition, and each reason maps onto something concrete a reader will encounter if they stay with the material.
First, Bernard is the bridge between patristic monastic theology and the full flowering of medieval affective mysticism. The Greek Fathers (Origen, Gregory of Nyssa, Maximus the Confessor, Pseudo-Dionysius) built a metaphysically ambitious contemplative theology centered on the soul's ascent toward the divine darkness or divine light. The early Latin monastic tradition (Cassian, Benedict, Gregory the Great) translated parts of that inheritance into a discipline of prayer, Scripture, and obedience. Bernard takes that Latin-monastic base and infuses it with something the Greek tradition carried more diffusely: sustained affective mystical writing in which the soul's desire for God is described, analyzed, and theologized without embarrassment. Every later Western affective mystic — Bonaventure's Itinerarium, the Rhineland Dominicans, Julian of Norwich's showings, the Spanish Carmelites — either reads Bernard directly or reads someone who did. A reader who wants to understand why late-medieval and early-modern Catholic contemplative literature sounds the way it does is reading Bernard's Sermons on the Song of Songs whether or not they know it.
Second, Bernard's four degrees of love is one of the genuinely portable contemplative teachings, transposable outside its original doctrinal setting. The movement from loving self for self's sake, to loving God for self's sake, to loving God for God's sake, to loving self for God's sake maps with unusual cleanness onto Sufi accounts of the stages of the nafs (al-nafs al-ammara, al-lawwama, al-mutma'inna, and the station of fana), onto Kabbalistic teachings about the purification of motive in relation to Ein Sof, and onto the Bhakti yoga progression from self-interested devotion to pure devotion to self-forgetting union. Bernard is not saying something the other contemplative traditions are not saying. He is saying it with a particular sharpness about the fourth degree — the insistence that the soul in its most mature love of God no longer relates to itself as a separate center of value — that repays cross-tradition study.
Third, Bernard's bridal mysticism provides the Western church with a way of saying something the Christological tradition might otherwise have said only awkwardly: that the relationship between the soul and God is not exhausted by the categories of creature and creator, subject and lord, sinner and judge, but is also a relationship of desire. The Song of Songs as Bernard reads it — and as William of Saint-Thierry, Hadewijch, Teresa, and John of the Cross read him — authorizes the use of erotic imagery for divine union without sliding into sentimentality or anti-intellectualism. The same move is made in the Bhakti traditions around Krishna and the gopis, in the Sufi imagery of the Beloved (mahbub), and in the Kabbalistic Shir HaShirim commentaries. Bernard's Western articulation belongs in this comparative conversation, not as an anomaly but as the Latin-Christian voice in a much larger chorus.
For a reader who approaches Christianity from outside the tradition, Bernard offers a demonstration that the Latin contemplative stream is not merely doctrinal or moralistic. It is a sustained, methodical, textually grounded practice of the soul's ascent toward union, and it has been that continuously since the twelfth century. For a reader inside the tradition, Bernard returns access to a part of the inheritance that post-Reformation polemics on both sides tended to flatten.
Connections
Bernard's connections inside the Christian tradition are dense enough to require careful sorting; his resonances across other contemplative traditions are genuine and repay attention.
Within twelfth-century Cistercian circles, Bernard's closest theological ally was William of Saint-Thierry, the former Benedictine abbot who left Saint-Thierry to become a simple monk at the Cistercian house of Signy in 1135 largely on Bernard's influence. William's Exposition on the Song of Songs, his Mirror of Faith and Enigma of Faith, the treatise On the Nature and Dignity of Love, and especially his Golden Epistle (Epistola Aurea ad Fratres de Monte Dei, c. 1145) systematize Bernardine theology for Carthusian readers and preserve the conceptual rigor that Bernard himself sometimes left implicit. The Golden Epistle in particular distills the Cistercian psychology of the soul — animal, rational, spiritual — in a form that shaped later medieval contemplative literature. Aelred of Rievaulx (1110–1167), the Yorkshire Cistercian, develops the Bernardine inheritance into De Spiritali Amicitia (which Cistercianizes Cicero's De Amicitia) and the Mirror of Charity. Guerric of Igny, Isaac of Stella, and Gilbert of Hoyland complete what Jean Leclercq called the "white school" of twelfth-century mystical theology. Downstream in the Franciscan tradition, Bonaventure's Itinerarium Mentis in Deum and Tree of Life explicitly inherit Bernard's affective christocentric piety and transpose it into a Seraphic-Franciscan key; the Meditations on the Life of Christ attributed (pseudonymously) to Bonaventure extend Bernard's devotion to Christ's humanity into the dominant late-medieval devotional form.
Bernard's contemporary relationship with Hildegard of Bingen is a specific moment worth naming clearly. In 1146 or 1147 Hildegard, then abbess of Disibodenberg, wrote to Bernard asking for discernment of her visionary gift; his reply, though brief, encouraged her to continue and — more importantly — his intervention at the Synod of Trier (1147/1148), before which Pope Eugenius III read portions of the Scivias aloud, secured papal approval of Hildegard's prophetic vocation. Without Bernard's institutional sponsorship, Hildegard's corpus might never have reached public audibility; the long arc of her influence — on Elisabeth of Schönau in her own lifetime, on the twentieth-century Hildegard revival in music and feminist theology — runs through that 1147 moment.
Dante's selection of Bernard as the pilgrim's final guide in Paradiso 31–33 is the most public medieval verdict on Bernard. The choice places Bernard above Aquinas in Dante's contemplative hierarchy: scholastic theology (the Thomas of Paradiso 10–13) articulates the truth, but only the mystical contemplative can accompany the soul into the final seeing of God face to face. The prayer to the Virgin at Paradiso 33.1–39 ("Vergine madre, figlia del tuo figlio, / umile e alta più che creatura") is one of the most famous passages in the Commedia, and Bernard's authorship of the Marian devotion Dante invokes is not incidental but structural.
Across the contemplative traditions beyond Christianity, three resonances repay attention. Sufi teaching on love (mahabbah) and the stations of the nafs — especially in Rabi'a al-Adawiyya's radical love of God for God's sake (hubb ilahi), Ibn Arabi's bridal imagery in the Tarjuman al-Ashwaq, and Rumi's Mathnawi — runs parallel to Bernard's four degrees of love with striking structural similarity. Rabi'a's refusal to love God for fear of hell or hope of paradise is essentially Bernard's third degree articulated four centuries earlier in eighth-century Basra. The Sufi distinction among al-nafs al-ammara (the commanding self), al-lawwama (the self-reproaching soul), and al-mutma'inna (the tranquil soul), leading toward fana (annihilation in God), maps with unusual cleanness onto Bernard's four degrees. The Bhakti traditions on Krishna, especially the gopi-bhava articulated by Jayadeva's Gita Govinda (c. 1170, nearly contemporary with Bernard) and later by Chaitanya and the Gaudiya tradition, use the bridal-erotic metaphor for soul-God union in the same structural register as the Song of Songs sermons; the comparative literature (Friedhelm Hardy's Viraha-Bhakti, Bernard McGinn's own comparative essays) has mapped this terrain carefully. The Kabbalistic tradition on Shir HaShirim, especially the Zoharic reading of the Song as the union of Tiferet and Shekhinah, sits in a Jewish structural parallel to the Christian bridal reading, and both depend on the same mystical intuition that the Song's erotic charge is not incidental to its sacredness but constitutive of it. The Bhagavad Gita's own progression from sakama bhakti (devotion with desire) to niskama bhakti (desire-free devotion) to parabhakti (supreme devotion) provides a third structural parallel to Bernard's four degrees.
Inside the Satyori library, Bernard's Sermons on the Song of Songs sit as the central Western bridal-mystical text; cross-reference for readers: the Sufi bridal material (Rabi'a, Ibn Arabi, Rumi), the Bhakti bridal material (Jayadeva, Chaitanya, Mirabai, the Radha-Krishna tradition), the Kabbalistic Song of Songs readings, the Western mystics downstream of Bernard (Julian of Norwich, Teresa of Ávila, John of the Cross), and the larger comparative frame of contemplative love (De Diligendo Deo alongside the Sufi stations of love and the Gita's bhakti-yoga progression).
Further Reading
- Bernard of Clairvaux, Selected Works. Translated by G. R. Evans, Classics of Western Spirituality. Paulist Press, 1987. Best single-volume paperback entry with substantial introduction.
- Bernard of Clairvaux, On the Song of Songs. Translated by Walsh and Edmonds, 4 vols., Cistercian Fathers Series. Cistercian Publications, 1971–1980. The complete eighty-six sermons in standard English.
- Bernard of Clairvaux, On Loving God. Translated by Robert Walton. Cistercian Publications, 1973. The compact four-degrees-of-love treatise, best short starting point.
- Bernard of Clairvaux, Five Books on Consideration. Translated by Anderson and Kennan. Cistercian Publications, 1976. The pastoral treatise to Pope Eugenius III.
- Jean Leclercq, The Love of Learning and the Desire for God. Fordham University Press, 1961. The classic study of Benedictine-Cistercian monastic culture.
- Étienne Gilson, The Mystical Theology of Saint Bernard. Cistercian Publications, 1990 (French 1934). The essential philosophical treatment.
- Bernard McGinn, The Growth of Mysticism. Crossroad, 1994. The fullest English analytical reading of Bernard in context.
- Brian Patrick McGuire, The Difficult Saint. Cistercian Publications, 1991. Honest treatment of the Abelard confrontation and Crusade preaching.
- Michael Casey, Athirst for God. Cistercian Publications, 1988. Contemplative reading of the Song of Songs sermons by a practicing Cistercian.
Frequently Asked Questions
What are Bernard of Clairvaux's four degrees of love?
Bernard sets out the four degrees of love in De Diligendo Deo (On Loving God), written around 1126 for Cardinal Haimeric. The schema is a graduated ascent, not a sudden conversion, and each degree is defined by the answer to a single question: for whose sake is the love offered? The first degree is love of self for the self's sake. This is the natural starting condition of every human being, the soul loving itself because loving itself is the first act of any creature that exists. Bernard does not treat it as sinful in itself, only as incomplete. The second degree is love of God for the self's sake. The soul turns toward God because God meets its need — protection, providence, forgiveness, the answer to prayer. This is not yet the love of God, strictly speaking; it is the love of what God gives. The third degree is love of God for God's own sake. The soul has moved past its own neediness and loves God because God is worthy of love, because the divine goodness draws the soul by its own inherent attraction. Bernard treats this third degree as the proper disposition of the soul in this life and the achievable goal of sustained spiritual practice. The fourth degree is love of self for God's sake. The soul no longer relates to itself as a separate center of value; it loves itself only insofar as it exists in God. Bernard uses the image of a drop of water poured into a cask of wine, taking on the taste and color of the wine while remaining itself. He holds that this fourth degree is almost never reached in this life and is properly eschatological. The schema shaped Richard of Saint-Victor, Bonaventure, and the wider Western tradition, with structural parallels to the Sufi stations of the nafs and to the Gita's sakama-to-niskama bhakti progression.
What is bridal mysticism, and what is Bernard's three-kiss schema?
Bridal mysticism is the Western contemplative tradition of reading the Song of Songs — the erotic wedding poem in the Hebrew Bible — as a sustained allegory of the soul's relationship with God. The soul is the Bride, Christ is the Bridegroom, and the Song's imagery of courtship, longing, union, and absence is read as the grammar of mystical experience. The template originates with Origen of Alexandria in the third century, whose Commentary on the Song of Songs established the allegorical reading, but Bernard's eighty-six Sermons on the Song of Songs (1135–1153) develop it into its fullest Western form and give the tradition its dominant vocabulary for centuries afterward. The three-kiss schema is Bernard's most influential exegetical move, laid out in Sermons 3 and 4 on Song 1:2 ("Let him kiss me with the kiss of his mouth"). Bernard reads the verse as mapping three stages of the spiritual life. The kiss of the feet is penitence: the soul, aware of its sin, prostrates itself before Christ's feet, like Mary Magdalene in Luke 7, and weeps. This is the beginning. The kiss of the hand is progress: the soul receives the gifts of grace — the virtues, the disciplines, the growing capacity for prayer — that lift it from prostration to standing. This is the long middle of the spiritual life, where most of it is lived. The kiss of the mouth is mystical union: the soul receives the Spirit of the Bridegroom directly, and Bridegroom and Bride are united breath to breath. Bernard treats this third kiss as rare, brief, and mostly given rather than achieved. The schema was picked up by William of Saint-Thierry, Hadewijch, Teresa of Ávila, and John of the Cross, and remains the canonical three-stage map of the contemplative life in the Western tradition.
Why did Bernard oppose Peter Abelard, and was the Council of Sens fair?
Bernard opposed Peter Abelard primarily on the Trinitarian doctrine articulated in Abelard's Theologia Scholarium, which Bernard read as reducing the three Persons to distinctions of power, wisdom, and goodness in a way that risked Sabellian modalism, and secondarily on questions about the Atonement and on Abelard's method of applying dialectical reasoning to revealed mysteries. A third layer of the conflict was cultural: Bernard stood for the twelfth-century monastic-contemplative synthesis, Abelard for the emerging urban-scholastic method of the Paris schools. The Council of Sens in June 1141 was not procedurally fair on the reconstruction most modern scholars accept (Jean Leclercq, Constant Mews, M. T. Clanchy). Abelard had requested a public disputation at Sens to answer Bernard's charges. The night before the scheduled debate, Bernard met privately with the assembled bishops — King Louis VII was also present — and read out a list of propositions he had extracted from Abelard's writings (the manuscript tradition preserves both a fourteen-proposition list and a nineteen-proposition list, and scholarship is divided on which was actually read at Sens), securing their condemnation before Abelard could speak. When Abelard appeared the next morning and discovered the propositions had already been judged, he refused to defend them and appealed directly to Rome. Pope Innocent II, informed in advance, upheld the condemnation. Abelard, already in his sixties and in poor health, never reached Rome; he took refuge at Cluny under Peter the Venerable and died the following year. Bernard's theological positions were not reactionary. The procedure, however, amounted to an ambush trial, and his polemical letters to Innocent II — calling Abelard "a monk without a rule, a prelate without responsibility" — are harder to read sympathetically than almost anything else in his corpus.
Why did Bernard preach the Second Crusade, and how should the failure be understood?
In 1145, after the fall of the Crusader County of Edessa to Zengi in December 1144, Pope Eugenius III — Bernard's former novice at Clairvaux — commissioned Bernard to preach a new Crusade. Bernard delivered the inaugural sermon at Vézelay on Palm Sunday, 31 March 1146, before King Louis VII of France and a massive crowd; the sermon's text is lost but its effect is recorded by eyewitnesses. Louis took the cross on the spot. Bernard then toured the Rhineland through 1146 and 1147, enlisting King Conrad III of Germany and intervening forcefully to halt anti-Jewish pogroms being stirred up in the Rhineland towns by the renegade Cistercian monk Radulf. His letter defending the Jewish communities as "the living letters of Scripture" is one of the cleanest documents in his corpus. The Crusade itself, launched in 1147, was a near-total military catastrophe. Conrad's army was shattered at Dorylaeum in October 1147; Louis's French army suffered grievously crossing Anatolia; the combined assault on Damascus in July 1148 collapsed after four days. Bernard wrote a reflection on the failure in Book II of De Consideratione, treating the defeat as divine judgment on the sins of Christendom rather than as a refutation of the Crusade's theological legitimacy. Modern readers often find this reflection self-serving; it places blame outside Bernard's own preaching and onto the abstraction of "Christendom's sins." A reader is right to sit with that discomfort without resolving it. The failure tempered but did not destroy Bernard's prestige; he continued to be consulted by Eugenius III and intervened in the Gilbert of Poitiers affair at Reims in 1148 and the Hildegard validation. The episode is the largest single constraint on any uncomplicated account of his legacy.
Why does Dante choose Bernard as the pilgrim's final guide in the Paradiso?
The choice of Bernard as the pilgrim's final guide in Paradiso 31–33, replacing Beatrice for the ascent to the Beatific Vision, is one of the most deliberate structural decisions in the Divine Comedy. Dante works through three guides across the Commedia: Virgil (classical reason, through Inferno and Purgatorio), Beatrice (theological knowledge informed by grace, through most of Paradiso), and Bernard (contemplative-mystical union, for the final three cantos). The movement maps Dante's argument about the limits of each mode of knowing. Beatrice takes the pilgrim through the heavenly spheres up to the Empyrean, where the celestial rose of the blessed is disclosed. At Paradiso 31.59 she returns to her throne and a new guide appears — an old man who introduces himself at 31.102 as the one to whom Beatrice has deferred. This is Bernard. He leads the pilgrim through the rose, prepares him for the final vision, and at Paradiso 33.1–39 delivers the great prayer to the Virgin Mary ("Vergine madre, figlia del tuo figlio") that secures the pilgrim's admission to the Beatific Vision. The choice is structural on three levels. First, Bernard is the twelfth century's preeminent Marian preacher; Dante wants the historical Marian voice to deliver the petition. Second, Bernard is the twelfth century's preeminent contemplative, and Dante's argument is that scholastic theology (Aquinas in Paradiso 10–13) can articulate the truth but cannot accompany the soul into the final seeing — only the mystic can. Third, Bernard's language of the soul as bride, the contemplative ascent, and the vision of God face-to-face supplies Dante with the vocabulary for what he wants to describe. The placement seals Bernard's position as the paradigmatic Christian mystic of the Western imagination.