November 2025 Print

Exploring the Mysterious Language of the Bible: Medieval Exegesis and the Senses of Scripture

By Dr. Louis Shwartz

Medieval Catholics cherished the Bible, and the greatest saints and scholars of this Christian era devoted their time and talents to exploring the mysterious language of Sacred Scripture. Inspired by a great love for and thorough knowledge of the divine texts preserved in the Old and New Testaments, prominent teachers like St. Augustine of Hippo, St. Gregory the Great, and St. Bernard of Clairvaux uncovered the hidden meaning contained within the Bible’s figurative language. A daring task, this effort prompted each of these Doctors of the Church first to probe the literal meaning of the particular passage at hand, then to progress to figurative and moral interpretations—a process which involved enumerating the various “senses” of Scripture. By establishing rules and principles for this interpretive process, medieval exegetes produced a stable method which encouraged both creativity and responsibility, leading to many exciting yet dogmatically sound discoveries.

Examples drawn from the writings of Augustine, Gregory, and Bernard will show—better than an abstract discussion—how medieval exegesis worked. Following his conversion to the Catholic Faith in 386, Augustine applied his classical pagan literary training to an intense study of the Christian scriptures. As bishop of Hippo in Roman North Africa, he produced, around the year 400, a treatise on Catholic education entitled De doctrina Christiana. In this work, Book 3, Chapters 5–27, Augustine discussed his approach to the mysterious language of the Bible. He warned his readers:

The ambiguities of metaphorical words demand no ordinary care and diligence. In the first place, we must beware of taking a figurative expression literally…for it is surely a miserable slavery of the soul to take signs for things, and to be unable to lift the eye of the mind above what is corporeal and created, that it may drink in eternal light.

Metaphor involves figurative or symbolic language in which one thing stands for something else. For example, Scripture at times speaks of the “right hand of the Most High,” the “eyes of the Lord,” the “anger of God,” or even his regret at creating man. Obviously God, in his divine nature, does not have a body, nor is He subject to changing emotions; instead these scriptural expressions must be understood figuratively to represent God’s power, wisdom, and justice. Augustine thus warned Christians not to entertain misguided notions about God based on an overly literal reading of the Bible. Yet he also cautioned:

In addition to the foregoing rule, which guards us against taking a metaphorical form of speech as if it were literal, we must also avoid taking a literal form of speech as if it were figurative. In the first place, then, we must show the way to find out whether a phrase is literal or figurative, and the way is certainly as follows: Whatever there is in the word of God that cannot, when taken literally, be referred either to purity of life or soundness of doctrine, you may set down as figurative.

Augustine then provided an example of a potentially confusing Scriptural passage which, while true historically, must be understood as having figurative and moral meaning which goes beyond the usual literal sense of the action related:

Those things, whether only sayings or whether actual deeds, which appear to the inexperienced to be sinful and which are ascribed to God or to men whose holiness is put before us as an example, are wholly figurative, and the hidden kernel of meaning they contain is to be picked out as food for the nourishment of charity…Nobody in his sober senses would believe, for example, that when our Lord’s feet were anointed by the woman with precious ointment, it was for the same purpose which luxurious and profligate men are accustomed to have theirs anointed in those banquets which we abhor. The sweet odor of the ointment stands for a good reputation which is earned by a life of good works, and the man who gains this reputation by following in the footsteps of Christ anoints His feet, so to speak, with the most precious ointment. And so that which in the case of other persons is often a sin becomes, when ascribed to God or a prophet, the sign of some great truth.

In this instance, Augustine upheld the historical reality of Christ having his feet anointed by a notoriously sinful woman at a banquet, reconciling this seemingly scandalous action with the sanctity of God. He showed that the text of the Bible must first be read literally, and once the literal or historical implications of the passage become clear, then the reader can pass on safely to figurative or moral interpretations.

Continuing his discussion of responsible exegesis, Augustine added a further suggestion to aid in understanding difficult scriptural passages which have been glossed by different scholars in various ways:

When two or more interpretations are put upon the same words of Scripture, even if the meaning intended by the sacred writer should remain undiscovered, there is no danger if it can be shown from other passages of Scripture that the various interpretations are in harmony with Christian truth. If someone, searching the Scriptures, endeavors to get at the intention of the sacred writer through whom the Holy Spirit spoke, whether he succeeds in this endeavor or proposes a different meaning that is not opposed to sound doctrine, he is free from blame so long as he is supported by the testimony of some other passage in Scripture. For perhaps the sacred author saw that this very meaning lay hidden in the words, and the Holy Spirit, who spoke these words through the author, foresaw that this interpretation would later occur to the reader and even made provision that it should occur to him, seeing that this interpretation is also founded on truth. What more liberal and more fruitful provision could God have made in regard to the Sacred Scriptures than that the same words might be understood in several senses, all of which are sanctioned by the concurring testimony of other passages equally divine?

By insisting that all legitimate interpretations of Scripture must harmonize with Catholic truth, Augustine instructed readers of the Bible to conform their insights to the rule of faith. Also, by encouraging comparison of difficult Scriptural passages to other parts of the Bible, Augustine provided a means to test the viability of a particular interpretation. Finally, Augustine’s various guidelines liberate Christian scholars, allowing them to explore the mysteries contained in Sacred Scripture without danger and to pass on their pious insights to future generations.

Writing two hundred years later, Pope St. Gregory the Great benefited from St. Augustine’s sound exegetical advice, using it to produce his own daring commentaries on Scripture. Born to noble Roman parents, Gregory used his family’s wealth to establish a monastery within the walls of Rome—a prudent decision since Italy at the time was overrun by hostile barbarians. He served as abbot, and part of his responsibilities involved preaching on the Bible. Recognizing rare genius, Gregory’s religious companions begged him to comment on the Old Testament Book of Job, a text full of mysterious language, shocking disasters, and engaging dialogue. To their knowledge, no Christian scholar had yet attempted such a feat. Moved by their piety, zeal, and filial confidence, Gregory consented and produced, around the year 600, his ambitious Moralia in Iob or “Moral lessons from the Book of Job.”

Gregory’s commentary examined the entire book line by line, discussing the literal and historical meaning, examining its symbolic significance, and developing a moral application. He proposed this threefold method clearly in the preface to the work:

There are some parts which we go through in a historical exposition, some we trace out in allegory upon an investigation of the symbolic meaning, and some we open up to lessons of moral teaching alone, allegorically conveyed; yet there are other passages which, with more particular care, we search out in all these ways together, exploring them in a threefold method. First, we lay the historical foundations; next, by pursuing the figurative sense, we erect a structure for the mind to be a stronghold of faith; and as the last step, by the grace of moral instruction, we cover the edifice with color.  

Gregory compared this three-step exegetical process to constructing a building, first laying the foundation of the literal meaning, then raising the framework of allegory, and finally applying the finishing touches of moral application. Employing another image to describe his work, Gregory added:

The declarations of truth can also be accounted as food for the refreshment of the mind, for these being handled with the alternate application of various methods, we serve up the viands of discourse in such a way as to prevent all disgust in the reader, who, invited as our guest, can consider the different dishes presented to him and take whatever he determines to be best. 

Employing the interpretive liberty earlier sanctioned by Augustine, Gregory produced a rich and varied scriptural commentary for the delight of his fellow Christians.

One mysterious passage near the end of the Book of Job elicited Gregory’s particular attention—and what follows is discussed in Book 32, Chapters 16–21 of the Moralia. Job, who had suffered many misfortunes at the hands of the devil by divine permission, complained to his friends; God himself then appeared to set matters straight and to correct Job’s wavering trust in his perfect providence. Specifically, God discussed Job’s many limitations as a weak creature, and then proposed a monstrous animal for Job’s consideration:

Behold Behemoth whom I have made alongside you; he eats grass like an ox; his strength is in his loins, and his force is in the navel of his belly. (Job 40:10-11)

This text demands some explanation. Having first provided context for the literal meaning of the passage, Gregory then identified this animal’s allegorical significance: “Whom does He suggest under the name Behemoth except the ancient enemy, the devil?” Next, following Augustine’s advice, Gregory invoked other Scriptural passages which discuss animals eating hay—passages not included here for the sake of brevity—in order to support this interpretation:

Why is Behemoth compared to an ox which feeds on clean food?…Because he rejoices not in seizing those whom he finds lying of their own accord in the lowest depths with himself, involved in wicked and filthy actions, but seeks to eat clean hay as an ox because he strives to wound with the fang of his suggestion the pure life of spiritual men.

Gregory then studied the additional detail: his strength is in his loins, and his force is in the navel of his belly. In order to understand these images and expressions correctly, Gregory cited parallel biblical texts which also mention “loins” and “navels,” ultimately proposing this reading:

The place for the seeds of coition is thus said to be for men in the loins, but for women in the navel…Because both sexes are overcome by the infirmity of lust through the power of the devil, his strength is said to be in his loins, against men, and his force in his navel, against women.

So far Gregory has progressed from a literal setting of the text to an allegorical reading. To complete his work on this passage, Gregory proposed a moral lesson:

But why, after describing Behemoth as eating hay, did the sacred author note the fatal effects of lust as the first effect of the devil’s deception? It is clear that, after pride has seized the spirit of a man, he immediately reaches forth to the pollution of the flesh, a fact we observe even in the first man and woman who covered their shameful parts after their sin of pride…This Behemoth, therefore, who rages insatiably and seeks to devour the whole man at once, first exalts the mind to pride, then corrupts the flesh with the pleasure of lust. His strength is not said to be in the loins or the navel of those who are overcome, but his strength is in his loins, and his force is in the navel of his belly…because doubtless they are joined to the devil’s body who, being deceived by the flattery of base suggestions, submit to him through the promiscuity of lust.

Gregory thus warned his Christian readers that exalted pride leads to lowly lust, and he invoked the famous precedent of Adam and Eve to strengthen this claim. Anyone who thus foolishly accepts the devil’s solicitations to pride will soon fall into the filth of impurity and will be coupled with his shameless partner, the devil, becoming one body with the demon. Gregory’s message, based on a careful exposition of this one passage from the Book of Job, is clear: Beware of pride and its vile consequences!

Apart from examining the dark reality of sin, medieval exegesis also promoted joyful meditations on exalted spiritual truths. For example, St. Bernard of Clairvaux, writing in the first half of the twelfth century, explored the great mystery of the Incarnation in his sermons on the Old Testament Canticle of Canticles. Although separated from Augustine and Gregory by many centuries, Bernard followed the same basic methodology: literal, then allegorical, then moral interpretation of the same rich scriptural passage. In this instance, St. Bernard focused on the provocative opening words of the Song of Songs: Let him kiss me with the kiss of his mouth. He began, in his first sermon, with the literal phrasing:

First of all, tell us, I beseech you Lord, by whom, of whom, and to whom is it said: Let him kiss me with the kiss of his mouth? What means this abruptness, this sudden beginning in the middle of the discourse? For the words are so uttered as if there had been a previous speaker to whom this other is represented as if replying, whoever she is that solicits the kiss…She is not content with saying, “let him kiss me with his mouth,” but uses the still more unusual expression with the kiss of his mouth. A pleasant discourse this, surely, which begins with a kiss! In truth, the smiling face, so to speak, of this part of Scripture entices and allures us to read, so that it is a delight to investigate, even with labor, its hidden meanings, for the difficulty of inquiry never wearies us when we are charmed by the sweetness of the discourse. And who can help having his attention aroused by this beginning without a beginning, by this novelty of language in an ancient book? Here we have proof that this work is no product of human genius, but has instead been composed by the art of the Holy Spirit since, despite being difficult to understand, it is still such a pleasure to study.

Certainly there must be some meaning hidden behind this mysterious and even sensual wording, and to elicit this meaning St. Bernard proposed an allegorical interpretation in his second sermon to the monastic community at Clairvaux:

I find something of the patriarchs’ yearning and holy expectation enkindled in my soul by these words: Let him kiss me with the kiss of his mouth…They eagerly longed for admission to some share in such overflowing sweetness. In truth, every perfect soul under the old dispensation may be supposed to have complained to God somewhat as follows: “Why do you offer me the babbling lips of the prophets? Rather let him who is beautiful above the sons of men kiss me with the kiss of his mouth. I will not now hear Moses…Let him of whom the prophets speak kiss me with the kiss of his mouth…With good reason do I refuse visions and dreams, figures and parables. Even the loveliness of the angels fails to content me since it falls infinitely short of the beauty of my Jesus. It is he, then, he himself and no other, whether angel or man, whom I ask to kiss me with the kiss of his mouth.”

The key, for St. Bernard, to understanding the allegorical meaning behind the kiss rests on its reference to the Incarnation, the intimate meeting of the human and divine natures in one person, Jesus Christ:

Now, my brethren, I want your best attention. Let us consider the Word as the mouth that kisses; let the [human] nature assumed be the other mouth that is kissed; let Jesus Christ, the Divine Person subsisting in two natures, the mediator between God and man, be the kiss which joins both mouths…O happy kiss, marvel of infinite condescension, whereby there is not mere pressure of mouth upon mouth, but God is united to man! The contact of lips signifies the embrace of loving hearts, but this union of natures brings together the divine and human, making peace between the things of heaven and earth, for He is our peace who has made both one. Therefore it is for this kiss, for Jesus Christ, that every saint of the Old Testament yearned because…they desired to participate in his fullness.

This symbolic yearning of the ancient Jews for the arrival of the promised Messiah, symbolized by the kiss, provided St. Bernard with the key to unlocking the mysterious significance of such difficult scriptural language. His task as exegete, however, does not end with the allegorical interpretation, for he must still propose a moral lesson. Knowing this, St. Bernard opened his third sermon on the same passage with these words addressed directly to his Christian audience:

Our lesson for today, my brethren, shall be read from the book of experience. Turn your eyes, therefore, upon yourselves and let each examine his conscience…Have you ever said sincerely: Let him kiss me with the kiss of his mouth? Not every man speaks thus from his heart, but he who has even once received this spiritual kiss from the lips of Christ will surely solicit again what he has previously relished and will ask the favor to be repeated…Yet far be it from a wretch like me, laden with sins, still the sport of carnal passions, who has not tasted the sweetness of the spirit, altogether ignorant of internal delights, far be it from me to make any pretentions to a grace so sublime!…Therefore, I must beg the grace of conversion and perseverance before I aspire to things higher and holier.

St. Bernard not only encouraged his hearers to foster an interior desire for intimate friendship with Christ, but also stressed the necessity of moral purification in order to realize this union, one which requires conversion from sin and perseverance in good works. Ultimately, St. Bernard developed these profound insights by following the traditional threefold exegetical method established by his renowned predecessors.

For medieval Christians, reading the Bible was a challenging and rewarding task. For those who knew how to probe its mysteries responsibly, Sacred Scripture offered a rich spiritual feast, one which nourished the soul with sound doctrine and holy aspirations. In the texts quoted above, St. Augustine fittingly spoke of a “hidden kernel of meaning” contained in Scripture which should be “picked out as food for the nourishment of charity,” while St. Gregory likened interpretation of the Bible to a lavish banquet “for the refreshment of the mind,” one prepared by “the alternate application of various methods” intended to entice and delight the reader’s spiritual appetite. Far from limiting and constraining the study of the Bible, the medieval exegetical tradition opened up exciting avenues of exploration by developing sound principles and procedures for interpretation, principles which can be employed fruitfully still today.

TITLE IMAGE: St. Gregory and St. Augustine, Juan de Borgoña (1470–1534).