lectio divina

For the past several weeks I’ve been spending some time studying about, praying for the grace to enter deeply into, and conversing with others concerning lectio divina. Lectio divina is, literally, divine reading. It has for centuries been understood as that careful and attentive reading of the scriptures and other sacred writings…done with a conscious openness of the heart to the Holy Spirit who is perceived to be speaking to the individual through the sacred text; it is thus closely linked to prayer and becomes a primary source of spiritual growth (Patrick Berry, OSB, The Benedictine Handbook, 69). Although not exclusive to the Benedictine tradition, lectio divina has for centuries been a hallmark of the contemplative life for which St. Benedict wrote his Rule, as lectio divina has as its ultimate purpose not simply intellectual assimilation of the sacred text, but also movement through compunction to meditation, prayer, and contemplation. Michael Casey, OCSO describes lectio divina as a technique of prayer and a guide to living…a means of descending to the level of the heart and of finding God (Sacred Reading: the ancient art of lectio divina, vi).

Casey also provides a nice summary of the four moments of lectio divina (57; cf. Guigo II’s Scala Claustralium):

Sense	Faculty	Function	Prayer
Literal	Intellect	Understanding the text	Lectio
Christological	Memory	Contextualizing the meaning	Meditatio
Behavioral	Conscience	Living the meaning	Oratio
Mystical	Spirit	Meeting God in the text	Contemplatio

All of this is meant to provide a way for those engaged in lectio divina to ensure that their desire for God continues to challenge them to advance in holiness at all levels through each and every encounter with scripture. Because our reading is fundamentally an expression of our desire for God…understanding the Gospels presupposes some attempt to live them (8-9).

In order understand what it means to have this desire for God situated within an a priori commitment to conversion/change, it helps to keep in mind that the Bible has communion as its goal: our being bonded with God and with our fellow humans (44). And so, while we do lectio divina alone, it is never a solitary act. Reading and studying the Word, reflecting on the meaning for our life, living and praying as new beings, and contemplating God is never a solitary action; we do so in communion with others. It is this corporate and ecclesial nature of revelation…[which] offers us some protection against the idiocies of subjectivism (35). Thus we feel ourselves called not only to personal change but also to an awareness of the social nature of our relationship with God so clearly conveyed in scripture, especially the Hebrew Bible. With the same love that we have for Word, with the same patient, attentive, and deliberate sense of listening we offer the whisper of the Holy Spirit, and with the same reverence we have for God, we must open ourselves to one another. For, as Gregory the Great taught, Amor ipse notitia est, (Love itself is a form of knowledge). If we simply know and do not love, we exploit. If we simply love and do not know, we trivialize. And if we both know and love, but do not submit ourselves, we objectify (cf. T. Todorv The Conquest of America: The Question of the Other and his analysis of alterity along axiological, epistemological, and praxeological axes). When we come with the right disposition and desire for communion with God and one another to our lectio divina, we will then be able to act as we ought when the slightest truth is unveiled for us. And act we must! For, as Casey reminds us in quoting Cardinal Newman, if then we allow our feelings to be excited without acting upon them, we do mischief to the moral system within us (134).

As part of my attempt to take seriously my spiritual life, to live more in accord with Benedict’s Rule, and in continuing aspiration of opening our home as a neo-monastic community, I have been making more time in my schedule for sustained lectio divina, though I fall short of the three hours per day envisioned by Benedict. Beginning with the Song of Songs, as to be expected of one falling under the sway of the Cistercians, it is clear that I still have a lot to learn in order to develop this art. I am also trying to put into words a number of thoughts I have had recently about the possibility of video divina—using films as the text by which one moves from mere viewing to meditation, prayer and action, and ultimately contemplation of God. The Story of Ruth (1960), The Namesake, and a few shorts by Dominic DeLay, OP have been interesting ground for this thus far. Of course, Die Grosse Stille (Into Great Silence) and 봄여름가을겨울그리고봄 (Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter…and Spring) would certainly be included in any cursus of video divina. Stay tuned for more reflection on this developing yet ancient spiritual art.