Act 1
The Palace In Jerusalem
5
The Harem
Song 1:2ā8
SETTING: The chambers of KING SOLOMONās HAREM within his palace in Jerusalem.
AT RISE: KING SOLOMON enters the chambers of the HAREM to pick out his lover for the day.
HAREM
(The concubines of the HAREM long to be chosen by KING SOLOMON. Upon seeing KING SOLOMON, the HAREM whispers to one another excitedly.)
1:2 Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth!
(To get KING SOLOMON to notice them, they begin calling out to him.)
For your love is better than wine, 1:3 your anointing oils are fragrant, your name is perfume poured out;
EUNUCHS
(The EUNUCHS flatter KING SOLOMON.)
Therefore, the maidens love you.
SHULAMMITE
(The SHULAMMITE is new in the HAREM. She huddles in the corner alone. She doesnāt want to be KING SOLOMONās lover. We hear her desperately cry out to her absent SHEPHERD to rescue her.)
1:4 Draw me after you, let us make haste. The king has brought me into his chambers.
HAREM
(The HAREM ignores her cries and calls to KING SOLOMON again.)
We will exult and rejoice in you; we will extol your love more than wine;
EUNUCHS
(The EUNUCHS flatter the King again.)
Rightly do they love you.
(KING SOLOMON picks the SHULAMMITE to be his lover for the day and leaves the chamber alone. The EUNUCHS stay to ensure that the SHULAMMITE will be presentable for KING SOLOMON.)
SHULAMMITE
(The SHULAMMITE begins to change to go meet with KING SOLOMON for the first time. The SHULAMMITE responds to the way the HAREM looks at her.)
1:5 I am black and beautiful, O daughters of Jerusalem, like the tents of Kedar, like the curtains of Solomon. 1:6 Do not gaze at me because I am dark, because the sun has gazed on me. My motherās sons were angry with me; they made me keeper of the vineyards, but my own vineyard I have not kept!
(Turning from the HAREM, she cries for her absent SHEPHERD again.)
1:7 Tell me, you whom my soul loves, where you pasture your flock, where you make it lie down at noon; for why should I be like one who is veiled beside the flocks of your companions?
HAREM
(The HAREM sarcastically tells her how to find her SHEPHERD.)
1:8 If you do not know, O fairest among women, follow the tracks of the flock, and pasture your kids beside the shepherdsā tents.
***
Although Congressman Morganās office was about an hour walk from my English basement apartment, I looked forward to walking it. No matter how long I lived in DC, I never lost the feelings of wonder generated by this extraordinary city with its marble, granite, and sandstone buildings. I headed south until I came upon Virginia Avenue and followed it until I reached the National Mall. It was an iconic stroll passing by the Washington Monument, the Smithsonian Museums, the National Museum of Art, the United States Capitol, and the Supreme Court buildings. As I passed each government building, I imagined what important affairs of state might be on the docket for the next week. The museums, which I had visited countless times, caused me to recall the world-class collections of art and historic relics they housed. There was nothing else like Washington, DC in the entire world.
All too soon, I reached the Cannon House Office Building. My credentials got me through a rather upbeat security guardās inspection and directions to Congressman Morganās outer office. The guardās directions sent me the scenic route through the rotunda flooded with light from the oculus several stories above and then up one of the twin marble staircases and down the hall to one of fourteen three-room suites granted to the most honorable and longstanding members of the house.
It was Sunday afternoon and the building was mostly empty except for a few staffers here and there. Congressman Morganās assistant, who had been with him in the airport, was seated in blue jeans and a sports coat at the suiteās reception desk. His feet were propped up on the desk and he was reading the Washington Post.
Oddly, for me at least, I had arrived twenty minutes early and stood quietly in the doorway for several seconds before he realized I was there. For once, I was not worried about being bored. In fact, I had hoped for some time alone to savor this remarkable opportunity before me. When he saw me, he jumped up, embarrassed not to have known that he was being watched, shook my hand, and offered me coffee. Carrying my own, I answered by smiling and lifting my thermos to show him.
He introduced himself as Reggie and told me Congressman Morgan was on the phone, but would be available soon. He was much more relaxed and jovial than he had been at the airport and every bit as good looking. I liked him. He was a serious but happy person. It was only a minute or two before Congressman Morgan beckoned us to his office. From the tone of his voice, I could tell he was excited about this little project.
āCome on in!ā He stood from behind his desk and shook my hand. Behind him, there hung five black and white photographs each in an identical frame. The photographs had been taken at different times, but each showed Congressman Morgan with a different dignitary. I counted two Presidents, a Secretary of State, a Prime Minister of Israel, and a Chancellor of Germany. He caught me looking at the photographs.
āImpressive arenāt they?ā
āYes!ā I couldnāt hide how impressed I was so I deflected my admiration by making a joke, āAnd I bet at night when you go home they come to life and have important discussions on world matters.ā
āIndeed they must!ā he laughed. āSo young lady, are you going to write my story?ā
I smiled uncontrollably from ear to ear, āYou knew I would, Congressman Morgan.ā
āSit down then. But from here on out, you call me Caleb.ā
āDone.ā
In the airport, I had let Caleb talk without interrupting him. I had had no choice; he had talked in a steady stream of consciousness without coming up for air except for short lunch and bathroom breaks. I hadnāt had a tape recorder and had taken very few notes merely because he talked too fast. However, I knew that if I were going to write his story, I would have to get him to start over and tape it this time. I asked him if that would be okay. He said yes. We also agreed to meet every Sunday morning for two hours from here on out.
Caleb wanted to talk about compensation, but I refused saying that since this was my first endeavor at anything like this, he should wait until he saw what I produced. He motioned to Reggie to get something in the outer office. It was a simple one-page contractāmore like a friendly agreement. We would agree that as long as he was alive, I wouldnāt publish anything about the Congressman without his approval, but that whatever compensation the project generated would belong to me. I expressed again that I wasnāt interested in compensation and he expressed that neither was he. He suggested that I could always give any profits away to my favorite charity. He wouldnāt have it any other way. He signed the agreement and handed it to me. I signed too.
Then we began. I explained that I had done some research in the theology stacks at Georgetown learning a bit about the Shulammite and the Song of Solomon. I had to confess that though I grew up in Sunday school and youth group, never once did I ever read or hear anyone teach about the Song of Solomon.
āThatās because people donāt understand it!ā replied Caleb. āThey donāt know its life transforming capabilities.ā
Part of me wondered if he was taking this whole thing too far and another part of me found him completely grounded. āIf I had to summarize what I have already gathered from our conversation at the airport, I would say that you believe that by weaving your story with the Song of Solomon, it can help people see a need for a deeper connection with their Creator.ā
āI do. This is jumping the gun a bit, but stick with me. If a deeper relationship with God is all one takes away from the Song that is outstanding. However, you will see that there is even more to be learned through the Song.ā
āCan you summarize what else is to be learned through the Song?ā
āWell, without even being aware of the trap, most Christians participate in what I call āunjust systems.ā Either intentionally or u...