A Vegan Song of Love by King Solomon. By Dr. Chapman Chen and Sister Sy

The Song of Songs is a scriptural sanctuary for sacred desire — not lustful, not possessive, but incarnate and innocent. It is a celebration of love as communion, of the body as sanctuary, and of creation as witness. And tellingly, the entire poetic vision unfolds without a single image of bloodshed or animal sacrifice. Instead, it draws on the beauty of living plants, gentle creatures, and peaceful longing. It is an unviolent song of embodied love.

“I compare you, my love, to a mare among Pharaoh’s chariots.” (1:9)

The beloved is likened not to a trophy, but to a living, dignified animal — a mare, strong and graceful, not ridden or broken, but admired and free. This simile elevates the creature as a symbol of beauty, not subjugation.

“My beloved is to me a bag of myrrh that lies between my breasts… a cluster of henna blossoms in the vineyards of En-gedi.” (1:13–14)

Desire is not expressed through conquest but through the language of fragrance and flora. Myrrh, henna, nard, and vineyards speak of an intimate love rooted in the peaceful richness of the Earth — a love that disturbs no creature, yet stirs the soul.

In 2:1–3, the lovers use vegan self-imagery that affirms the Edenic quality of their relationship:

“I am a rose of Sharon, a lily of the valleys.” “As a lily among brambles… as an apple tree among the trees of the wood…”

The beloveds see themselves not as predators or prey, but as gardens, trees, flowers — life-giving, beautiful, and without threat. Even when sensuality rises, it is expressed through apples, raisins, shadow, rest, and mutual embrace (2:3–6), rather than any violent metaphor.

This ethos continues powerfully in chapter 4: “Your lips distill nectar… A garden locked is my sister, my bride… a well of living water.” (4:11–15)

The body is a garden, not a battlefield. The bride is not possessed — she is invited. Her love is not taken, but offered, like fruit in season, like fragrance carried by the wind. The lovers' union is not based on hierarchy, but shared flourishing.

“Let my beloved come to his garden and eat its choicest fruits…” (4:16)

This is not gluttony. It is not flesh. It is not violence. It is consensual joy, set in an abundant world that sustains life without requiring death.

Even the most sensual metaphors, such as: “Your two breasts are like two fawns, twins of a gazelle…” (7:3) ...are marked by gentleness. The image is not of meat or conquest, but of innocence, tenderness, and awe before fragile life. Fawns are not hunted—they are honoured.

The same chapter continues with agricultural and natural imagery:

“Your belly is a heap of wheat… your breasts like clusters of the vine… your kisses like the best wine…” (7:2–9)

Here again, the beloved is described as nourishment, but never as slaughter. She is fruitful, not fragmented. The wine she offers is not intoxication without care, but mutual joy flowing between lips and hearts.

Finally, in 7:11–13:

“Come, my beloved, let us go into the fields… let us see whether the pomegranates are in bloom. There I will give you my love.”

Love is consummated in the open, among fruit trees, under heaven, with the Earth as altar and the vineyard as witness.

This is a love rooted in creation, but without cruelty. It is passionate, but not predatory. It is sensual, but also sacred. It remembers flowers, not fire; fragrance, not fear.

And in this way, the Song of Songs still whispers: True love neither kills nor conquers. It delights, it honours, and it lets all beings live.

Full Text: https://www.vegantheology.net/post/a-vegan-song-of-love-by-king-solomon-by-dr-chapman-chen-and-sister-sy