Tag: Lectio Divina

• Navigating through the Bible’s Shadow

  One of this blog’s patrons named Aaron asked, in response to my post Nonduality in the Bible and Us:

  Not sure if you’ve posted one before, but is there a resource that collects verses for the mystical and non dual in the Bible? Did you have a post that had more?

  Also, this is just a passing thought. This post is beautiful in how it handles the non dual. But what about the shadow side of the Bible. The terrible things (god rejoices when the infants heads are dashed upon the rocks) or the very dualistic things (wives should submit to their husbands)? How should we as contemplativea treat such things? Should we only focus on the nondual and the beautiful loving parts of scripture (like a confirmation bias of sorts)? How can we still take the Bible as a whole with the terrible and downright evil in some cases and still be true to love and our contemplative practice? This has seriously prevented me from studying the Bible and doing lectio for years.

  A quick answer to your first question: one of my dream projects is to compile a nondual guide or commentary to scripture. Since I am not a scripture scholar, it’s an overwhelming thought, but something like that needs to be put together. So unless someone beats me to it, I hope to make it happen — someday.

  But on to the question about the shadow side of the Bible. Aaron mentioned Psalm 137:9 and Ephesians 5:22 — but there’s more where those came from. Indeed, a British newspaper a few years back published a list of the Top 10 Worst Bible Passages. In addition to infanticide and the subjugation of women, you can add genocide, slavery, the sanctioning of violence agains gay persons and psychics, and plenty more.

  I think it is vitally important for Christians (and Jews, and anyone else drawn to the Jewish and Christian scriptures) to honestly and fairly reckon with these violent, misogynist, homophobic, and otherwise disturbing passages in the Bible (and the same should be done for violent or disturbing passages in any other sacred scriptures, such as the Quran).

  Why do I say that? First, because authenticity demands no less.

  But also because I believe that these “shadow verses” (or in the words of scripture scholar Phyllis Trible, these “Texts of Terror“) make it clear how important it is to read the Bible through the lens of sound scholarship and interpretation. You can believe the Bible is the word of God, and perhaps even believe it is inerrant. But such beliefs must be forged in the furnace of honest and informed scholarship. Anything less suggests, frankly, that God is a slavery-condoning, sexist, homophobic, violent monster.

  I for one have no interest in bowing before such a monstrous god. I also know that the God I do recognize and worship — the God of unconditional love and infinite mercy — is well-represented in the Bible, and is in no way undermined by the shadow verses, as long as they are understood in a scholarly way.

  

  Reading Through the Eyes of Love

  I don’t have a source for this, so I may be getting it wrong, but I attended a catechist’s conference a few years back and heard a Bible scholar talk about methods of interpretation. He quoted one of the church fathers — I believe it was Saint Augustine — as saying something to the effect of “you should interpret every passage of the Bible in the light of the love of God.” Well, whoever said that first, wiser words were never spoken.

  If we read every passage — including the texts of terror — through the eyes of love, it becomes easier to see when a passage represents the limitations or biases of the author — and not a declaration of the Divine Will.

  For example, when the Bible suggests that God condones slavery, we know that God is a God of love and justice — so clearly, those slavery-accepting passages represent the cultural bias of the human author, and not the word of God. The same goes for all the shadow verses that suggest God is okay with violence, or genocide, or sexism, homophobia, and so forth. If a passage undermines God’s love and mercy, we can safely assume that the passage is telling us more about human imperfection than about divine perfection.

  It’s so important to read the Bible as a documentation of centuries of human beings striving to more fully respond to God’s love. Any great love story is filled with twists and turns, conflicts and misunderstandings, moments when fear or jealousy or anger threaten to overwhelm the power of love. When it comes to the love story between humanity and God, these same dynamics appear. But all the failings happen on the human side.

  So the Bible records so many ways that we humans get it wrong. We project onto God our biases, our bigotries, our prejudices. Humans can be violent, and we want to think that God condones our violence (but not the violence of our enemies, of course!). We can be hostile toward those who are “other” — other tribes, other races, other cultures, other gender, other sexualities. So it’s not surprising that those kinds of shadow perspectives show up in the Bible — it may be the word of God, but it is the word of God filtered through the writing of sinful humans.

  I should also point out that, in addition to the shadow verses/texts of terror, there’s plenty in the Bible that simply seems irrelevant to us today, from the never-ending legal minutiae of Leviticus to so much of the prophetic writings that seem to be responding to very specific moments of history. Do these passages teach us about God? Perhaps — but often they seem to say more about the writers and their circumstances. And it’s okay to recognize this, and to read such passages with that cultural context in mind.

  Doing Lectio Divina Honestly

  Back to Aaron’s question. Given that the Bible is a text that is difficult to read and interpret, with passages that seem to say more about humanity’s sin than about God’s grace, why should we bother to even study the Bible, let alone use it as a jumping-off point for meditation, prayer, and contemplation? (If you’re not familiar with the practice of Lectio Divina, read this post: Lectio Divina Every Day).

  Aaron asks (in regard to the shadow passages),

  How should we as contemplativea treat such things? Should we only focus on the nondual and the beautiful loving parts of scripture (like a confirmation bias of sorts)? How can we still take the Bible as a whole with the terrible and downright evil in some cases and still be true to love and our contemplative practice?

  I think it’s important to read the entire text, not just the “good stuff.” So no confirmation bias is necessary. Part of having an adult faith is learning to grapple with the shadow side of life — including the shadow side of our faith community and belief structure. So we need to “receive” the violent and oppressive parts of scripture — not to merely accept them, but to argue with them, understand them, and use them as a reminder of what we know is true about God: God’s justice, love, and mercy.

  These passages are like distractions during prayer. In his wonderful book Into the Silent Land, contemplative teacher Martin Laird shows how distractions during prayer can actually lead us to deeper silence. I think the same is true for the shadow passages in the Bible. They testify to the truth, beauty and goodness of God by reminding us that sometimes we human beings get God wrong.

  So how do we remain true to love and contemplative practice? Fortunately, there is still so much wisdom, beauty, and light in the Bible that if we are diligent in reading it through, we are continually being trained in the goodness, mercy, love and forgiveness of God. We use the Bible as a whole to interpret any one part of it — including the difficult parts. So, ironically, being faithful to a regular practice of lectio divina actually equips us to deal with  the difficult passages better: even though when we encounter such passages, we will naturally recoil from them and argue with them. That’s how it should be.

  One final thought. The Biblical scholar John Dominic Crossan has written a book that can help Christians who struggle with the violence in the Bible. It’s worth reading: How to Read the Bible and Still Be a Christian: Is God Violent? An Exploration from Genesis to Revelation.

  January 26, 2019

  Bible, Lectio Divina, scripture, texts of terror

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• Will You Join Me for A Prayerful “Experiment” this Lent?

  We’re just over a week away from Ash Wednesday! Which means it is time to be reflecting on your Lenten devotion. Continue reading on Patheos.

  Note: This post was originally published on Patheos. It is worth visiting the Patheos site for this post to see the comments, some of which were posted by people who identify as atheists or agnostics and therefore were unsympathetic to my “experiment.” Click here to read the original post. You also might find interesting my response to these commenters, in a post I wrote a year later, called Contemplation, Atheism, and Amputees.

  February 5, 2018

  Lectio Divina, Lent

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• Books for Beginning the Spiritual Journey

  Here is a list of several books I recommend for spiritual seekers — especially those who are working with a spiritual director or companion.

  When I recently posted a list of books for spiritual directors, I suppose it only made sense that someone would send along this request:

  Thanks for putting this list together! Do you have any books that you’d recommend for “directees?”

  — Seth A. (@eastcoastokie) August 15, 2016

  Thank you, Seth. I’m assuming that this list of books for directees would be aimed at persons who are relatively new to intentional contemplative spirituality and to working with a spiritual companion. So most of these books are for “beginners.” Of course, when it comes to the contemplative life, there’s a real sense  in which we are all, always, beginners. So folks at all stages of the spiritual life may find some or all of these books profitable to read.

  The first three books are all concerned with the practice of silent prayer, whether in a general sense or in the more structured sense of centering prayer. After that I’ve listed six other titles, each of which explores a slightly different dimension of spirituality: the importance of practice, of mindfulness, of making a retreat, crafting a personal rule of life, or committing to disciplines such as sacred reading or daily liturgical prayer. Finally, I’ve rounded off the dozen with three of my own books, since they are all written for beginners and, I hope, will be useful to anyone interested in this list.

  

  1. Martin Laird, Into the Silent Land — an elegant, beautifully written, and eminently practical introduction to the Christian practice of contemplation. Laird knows the tradition and has filled this book with insightful quotations from contemplative masters, including a goodly number of Eastern Orthodox writers. Laird’s insights are particularly helpful for anyone struggling with distractions (“mental clutter”) during silent prayer.
  2. Cynthia Bourgeault, Centering Prayer and Inner Awakening — this has more or less become a modern classic. Bourgeault provides a helpful overview of both the theory and practice of centering prayer, is willing to say so when she disagrees with Thomas Keating, and offers insightful commentary on how silent prayer leads us to healing and interior transformation. If you are going to read one book on centering prayer, this is it.
  3. Richard Rohr, Everything Belongs — Rohr is perhaps the most popular contemplative author alive today, and several of his books could have been included on this list. But I keep going back to this introduction to contemplation as a personal favorite, and a book that I think complements Laird and Bourgeault very nicely. The title really says it all: Rohr shows us how, in the grace of the contemplative stance, we find a spirituality that is radically inclusive.
  4. Mary Margaret Funk, Tools Matter: Beginning the Spiritual Journey — one of five books on the spiritual life for beginners by this Benedictine sister; all of them are worth reading but Tools Matter is a great place to start. Funk offers insight into the wisdom of the desert fathers and mothers, particularly in regard to managing our unruly thoughts and inner chatter; then she provides a useful survey of the “tools” (practices) that contemplatives use to pray.
  5. Thomas Merton, New Seeds of Contemplation — Merton may be most famous for his autobiographical writings, but this collection of devotional meditations on the contemplative life is arguably his most enduring contribution to the literature of spirituality. It’s also a great introduction to Merton himself, one of the most remarkable and important of twentieth century spiritual writers. Merton has a monk’s sensibility, but makes that worldview accessible to all.
  6. Esther de Waal, Lost in Wonder: Rediscovering the Spiritual Art of Attentiveness — de Waal is known as an interpreter of both Celtic and Benedictine spirituality, but this book is a more general treatment of an important quality for spiritual living: attentiveness, or what we now call “mindfulness.” The book is structured as a kind of literary retreat, so it also speaks to the important of making a retreat as an essential spiritual practice.
  7. Michael Casey, Sacred Reading — monastic spirituality for centuries wove together three essential practices: contemplation, the liturgy (daily prayer), and lectio divina (“sacred reading”) or the meditative, prayerful reading of scripture. Lectio has become almost as popular in our time as silent prayer, so a number of books have appeared on the topic; many are quite good, but I keep going back to this prayerful introduction, written by my favorite living Trappist author.
  8. Debra K. Farrington, Living Faith Day by Day — this is a book about crafting your own personal rule of life, inspired by the rules that govern monastic communities. Those of us who aren’t monks or nuns do not have the benefit of a shared community of spiritual practitioners, so we need tools to help us be disciplined as individuals or in families. A rule of life is a great accountability tool, and this book will help you to devise your own.
  9. Arthur Boers, Day by Day These Things We Pray: Uncovering Ancient Rhythms of Prayer — liturgical prayer (the Daily Office, the Divine Office, the Liturgy of the Hours) is a vital practice of traditional Christian spirituality, but difficult to maintain outside of a monastic setting. This book, written to promote liturgical prayer to Protestants, is useful for Christians of all denominations in making the case for daily structured prayer, even if you have to pray the Office all by yourself.
  10. Carl McColman, Answering the Contemplative Call — this book is intended for beginners on the contemplative path, assuming no prior knowledge on the part of the reader. Using the metaphor of a journey, it surveys the elements of a beginning spiritual practice, considers the idea of spiritual awakening or transformation, and invites the reader to discover the importance of silence and of disciplined prayer.
  11. Carl McColman, Befriending Silence — Can the spirituality of Trappist monks be applied to life outside the monastery? Absolutely, and this book explores what that might look like. Built around Bernard of Clairvaux’s idea that humility, compassion and contemplation are the three steps to truth, this book looks at the charisms (gifts) of Cistercian/Trappist monks and nuns, and reflects on how their cloistered spirituality could be a blessing for the rest of us.
  12. Carl McColman, The Big Book of Christian Mysticism — “mysticism” is a big topic and can seem intimidating, but this book de-mystifies mysticism, showing how it is actually a very ordinary and deeply rewarding spirituality — for all people, not just saints or priests or monks or nuns. The first part of the book explores just what is mysticism, while the second part offers initial thoughts on how to embrace mystical spirituality in your day to day life.

  One final thought: whether you are reading over this list for yourself or for your directee(s), I would recommend picking just one (or at the most, two) books to start with. In my experience, people drawn to the contemplative life are often book-aholics, and as an old teacher of mine was fond of saying, reading about prayer is one of our favorite ways of avoiding actually praying. Learning the balance between interesting reading and actually fostering a daily prayer discipline is an important task for early in the spiritual formation process. With that in mind, it’s better to err on the side of caution: and only take up one book (or so) at a time.

  

  If an eager beaver finishes a book in a month, then he or she can go on to another one (and finish off the entire list in a year). But I would recommend reading all of these books slowly — savor what these writers have to say to you.

  Take several months to finish off a book, and don’t start the next one until you complete the one you’re currently reading (if it turns out you really don’t like a particular book, then make the decision to stop reading it before going on to the next one).

  Remember, the contemplative life is not a race! So take your time, enjoy the books you choose to read, and above all, make time every day to pray.

  Do you have a favorite contemplative book for beginners that isn’t on this list? If so, please let me know — in a comment below, or on social media. Thanks!

  August 16, 2016

  Books, Contemplation, Cynthia Bourgeault, Esther De Waal, Lectio Divina, Martin Laird, Mary Margaret Funk, Michael Casey, recommended reading, Richard Rohr, Spiritual Direction, Thomas Merton

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• Lectio Divina Every Day

  

  “Love for Jesus is fed by constant meditation on the Gospels.”
  — Michael Casey, OCSO

  A prominent pastor who hosts an Internet podcast once interviewed me for his show, and at the close of our conversation asked me, “What is the one book you would recommend to readers as the most essential title to read, for the purpose of understanding Christian mysticism?”

  Without batting an eye I said, “The Bible, of course.” I don’t think that was the answer he was expecting!

  But it’s true. If you had to limit your reading to just one book, then forget Meister Eckhart, forget Julian of Norwich, forget Teresa of Avila and John of the Cross, forget The Cloud of Unknowing, forget John Ruusbroec. As wonderful as all those authors are (and, yes, I commend these books to anyone who seeks to learn about, or engage in, mystical spirituality), they are all, fundamentally, simply commentaries on sacred scripture, which is the true essential textbook for the contemplative way.

  Here’s the thing to keep in mind. Christian contemplation, unlike other forms of mystical philosophy, is ultimately about a relationship: or, perhaps better said, a web of relationships. God is love. Jesus gave us four essential challenges: to love  that God who is love, and to love our neighbors, as we love ourselves, and if we really take him seriously, to love even our enemies. Love God, love neighbors, love self, love enemies. Since love is the glue that holds relationships together, Christian spirituality is a spirituality of relationships. And contemplation (or mysticism) is ultimately about fostering the relationship with God, the love we seek to give back to the Source of All Love, through silence, through meditation, through prayer, through contemplation.

  And this is where the Bible comes in. The words of Sacred Scripture frame and support the silence of contemplation the way that a solid foundation provides the base for a beautiful building to stand. But that’s a two way street: the nurturing silence of mindfulness gives us the freedom and non-attachment necessary to read the Bible with contemplative eyes. Silence and the Word go together like the yin and the yang comprise the Tao.

  Christian spirituality rests on the relationship we forge with Christ, in response to the Love of God. And we meet Christ in many ways — in the hearts of loved ones, in the Eucharist, in those in need. Scripture, likewise, is a solid and foundational way in which we encounter Christ. Through the words of the Bible, we are invited into the living heart of Christ, and we are called to invite Him into our hearts, as well.

  Many Christians approach the Bible as if it were a textbook, or worse yet, a code of law, rather than a love letter. But the mystics and contemplatives have always understoood that the Bible is first and foremost about love, which is why their favorite book in the Bible has always been The Song of Songs, the juicy love poem at the heart of the Hebrew Wisdom Literature. Yes, we can read the Bible to learn about God (textbook), or to discover and apply God’s commandments in our lives (code of law) — but both of those approaches to scripture are meant to be subordinate to the invitation into love. For God is Love.

  So put aside all ideas you might have about “studying” the Bible-as-textbook or Bible-as-code-of-law. Let me invite you into an ancient way of reading the Bible, a prayerful and meditative way, that emphasizes love and relationship, and helps us to foster that intimacy with God that we crave (even if we aren’t conscious of it). This method of Bible reading is called Lectio Divina (Latin for “sacred reading”).

  Lectio Divina has been a part of Christian spirituality since at least the sixth century, and perhaps long before that. It is a beautiful way to integrate four essential practices: engaging with the Word of God as encountered in sacred scripture, meditating on the graces and mysteries of faith, prayer as a way of opening the thoughts of our mind and feelings of our heart to God, and resting in the vast open presence of contemplative silence. Lectio is an integral spiritual method which effortlessly weaves these four dimensions of devotion into one meaningful daily exercise.

  A short treatise called The Ladder of Monks: A Letter on the Contemplative Life, written by the Carthusian Guigo II in the twelfth century, spells out a basic process for engaging in Lectio Divina, which still is eminently useful today. The heart of the practice is not so much what we do (or even the order in which we do it), but the way we approach the text we are reading.

  • Lectio — Read — the key is to read slowly, prayerfully, meditatively. Linger over the words, savoring their message for you. Do not encumber yourself with Bible commentaries or other supplemental books — save those for study time. Rather, simply find a passage, a short passage, maybe even just one or a few verses, and read them slowly, attentively, mindfully. This is not a race. Read a passage, and reread it. You can keep reading until it seems that a particular word or phrase is speaking to you, but stop then. Allow a sacred pause. Take a few relaxing breaths. Now you are ready to move to the next step:
  • Meditatio — Reflect — traditionally, meditation in a Christian sense involved the process of reflecting on a word or teaching or one of the mysteries of the faith. Allow yourself to sit with the word or phrase that has spoken to you. Feel whatever feeling it elicits in you. Ponder what questions it asks of you. Perhaps you feel blessed or inspired, or confused or challenged or convicted. Simply let the Word of God speak to you. At this point, it’s less about you reading the Bible, and more about the Word of God “reading” you. Sooner or later, every conversation involves give-and-take, so at some point you’l be ready for the next step:
  • Oratio — Respond — God reveals Divine Love to us through sacred scripture, and now we are asked to reveal the hidden depths of our hearts and minds to God through prayer. Of course, God already knows the hidden places in our hearts and minds, but it is a blessing to us to consciously seek to hold those secret dimensions into the Light of Love. Pray to God, in response to the words you have read and the reflections you have pondered. You don’t have to be eloquent or fancy in your prayer. It could be as simple as “God, I love you” or “Lord, today’s reading really confused me/upset me.” Be honest with God. Express your doubts, your longings, your desires, your fears, your dreams. Express adoration and devotion, of course; confess sins when that is necessary as well. Take however long you need to share your mind and heart with the God Who is Love. This doesn’t need to last forever (it might only take a minute or two). You’ll sense when you have prayed all you need to pray, at least in terms of thoughts and feelings. Then it is time for the final step:
  • Contemplatio — Rest — “Be still and know that I am God,” speaks the Lord in Psalm 46; in other verses in the Psalms we are invited to let our souls rest for God in silence and even to recognize that silence itself is praise. We begin the process of Lectio Divina by seeking the Word of God through the Bible, and we end by seeking the silence of God through contemplative prayer, the prayer of restful, attentive silence. Here we “do” nothing more than breathe gently, allowing our thoughts and feelings to come and go without commentary or attachment. We can use a prayer word or verse (my favorite, again from the Psalms, is “O God, come to my assistance; O Lord, make haste to help me”) as a way of focussing our mind/heart so that we are less likely to be distracted by distractions during this period of rest. This is like a “Sabbath” prayer: we seek to grow in love of God simply by resting in God’s heart, the way a small child rests on her mother’s lap. We let go, and let God. We praise God simply by resting in silence, trusting in God’s love to hold us.

  So that is the process of Lectio Divina. Monks and nuns and other Christians with a lively thirst for God have engaged in this simple prayer practice for centuries, giving some time every day to the adventure of falling ever more deeply in love with God through reading the Bible, reflecting on the Word, responding to God in prayer, and then resting in Divine Love and silence.

  

  I encourage you to give it a try. Today is a good day to start. If you would like to learn more about Lectio Divina, here are a few books for further reading:

  • Sacred Reading: the Ancient Art of Lectio Divina by Michael Casey, OCSO;
  • Lectio Matters: Before the Burning Bush by Mary Margaret Funk;
  • Too Deep for Words: Rediscovering Lectio Divina by Thelma Hall.

  For a Bible, I recommend staying away from Study Bibles or Bibles filled with notes that will encourage you to approach it like a textbook rather than a love letter. My favorite Bible for Lectio is the Saints Devotional Edition, available in the New Jerusalem Bible translation or the New American Bible Revised Edition.  And since I’m at the age where my eyes prefer larger type Bibles, I also enjoy using the New Revised Standard Version with Extra-Large Type (!).

  Enjoy Lectio. It’s meant to be a joy, not a chore. Remember the reason for doing it: to discover the love of God, and to let that love transfigure your heart.

  July 30, 2014

  Bible, Contemplation, Featured, Lectio Divina, meditation, Prayer, scripture

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• What Mystics Do (and You Can, Too)

  What do mystics do? The following list can be a way to begin answering this question. I’m not suggesting that every mystic does everything on this list (for starters, this list is particularly aimed at Christian mystics), or that a person has to do all of these things to be considered a mystic. I’m trying to make the list general, so that it’s not just about persons who live in a cloister (monks and nuns) or who have ordained ministries of some sort. Think of this list as a glimpse into the variety of activities that persons we have come to know as mystics often engage in. Of course, the invitation is clear: even if you do not think of yourself as a mystic, and even if you have no desire to wear that label, perhaps if you are drawn to a deeper spiritual life you will find this list of activities inspiring.

  1. 1. Mystics pray. Christian spirituality is all about fostering a connection with God, and the single most effective way to do this is to pray. This includes many forms of prayer: communal or liturgical prayer, repetitive prayer like the Rosary of the Jesus Prayer, written prayers like the Psalms or the Daily Office, spontaneous prayer and charismatic prayer. Mystics take seriously Paul’s instruction to “pray without ceasing” (I Thessalonians 5:17). Indeed, all the other items on this list, in the hands of a mystic, are simply other forms of prayer.
     2. Mystics write. No, not every mystic does this. But many do. We wouldn’t have the mystical wisdom of John of the Cross, Teresa of Avila, Julian of Norwich, John Ruusbroec, Meister Eckhart — or, for that matter, Thomas Merton, Cynthia Bourgeault, and Richard Rohr — is these great visionaries and contemplatives did not commit their thoughts and teachings to the page. This doesn’t mean that every aspiring contemplative needs to get published! Rather, for most spiritual seekers, the take-away is humble, but powerful: keep a journal. Journaling is a meaningful and rich spiritual discipline all its own — and yes, it can be a form of prayer.
     3. Mystics meditate. Imagination is a wonderful thing — and using it to reflect on the great mysteries of the faith, the stories of the Bible, or the many ways in which we seek and find God’s presence, is a rich and nurturing from of what old-timers called “mental prayer,” and what remains a rich form of seeking communion with God for us today.
     4. Mystics contemplate. Deeper than meditation, contemplation brings the seeker to a place where words fall away — and (paradoxically) in the words of Meister Eckhart, “The eye through which I see God is the same eye through which God sees me; my eye and God’s eye are one eye, one seeing, one knowing, one love.” This is not something we decide to do, like deciding to go to the grocery store. Rather, contemplation is a gift — a grace from God. What we can do is to dispose ourselves to receive this gift, by cultivating inner serenity and silence, as a part of our overall discipline of prayer and seeking after God’s will in our lives.
     5. Mystics read. This one takes two forms. First and most important is lectio divina — the process of reading sacred scripture meditatively, which in turn leads to meditation, prayer, and contemplation. Also important is study: not only the Bible, but the writings of all the great saints and mystics who have gone before us. One way to grow in intimacy with the Word of God is to avail ourselves of the rich tradition of writings from throughout the ages.
     6. Mystics relate. Love is the heart of Christianity: love of God, and love of neighbor. It may not seem very “mystical” to devote one’s energy to feeding those who hunger, or spending time enjoying one’s family, or contributing to the life of a church or faith community. But one of the meanings of “mystical” is “hidden.” Hidden in the most ordinary activities of life is the unseen but real presence of God. There’s an old joke that says “Christians pray, but Christian mystics mean it.” We could adapt that as “Christians love their neighbors as themselves, but Christian mystics mean it.” To be a mystic is to see Christ in all people, and most especially those who hunger, or who have been oppressed or marginalized.
     7. Mystics sacrifice. It’s not a popular word in our society, but mysticism is timeless, not swayed by the fashions of the moment. Mystics give many things up: the quest for ego gratification, the hunger for material wealth, the jockeying for status in their social circle. Mysticism is all about simplicity and surrender: letting go of what is not necessary. The point behind calling all this “sacrifice” is that a true mystic practices self-denial not because he dislikes himself, but for a far richer reason: because his love and thirst for God is so great, that he wants to let go of anything that distracts him along the way.
     8. Mystics give. If sacrifice (as I used it above) implies a surrendering for the purpose of simplification and focus on Divine Love, then giving represents a corollary function: sacrifice for the benefit of others. This can be small or large, an act of kindness or a major gift to a church or a non-profit. We give of our resources, but also of our time and our talents. Obviously there is a question of healthy boundaries — it is possible to give to one’s own detriment — but a healthy contemplative will make the effort to find the right balance between appropriate self-care and heart-felt giving to others.
     9. Mystics sanctify. Holiness is another word that has fallen out of fashion; it basically means “set aside” for God. Relationship-building and giving reveal a social, communal side to mysticism, and at least in Christian terms, this is important. But there is also an essential solitary, hidden aspect to mysticism as well. “Whenever you pray, go into your room and shut the door and pray to your Father who is in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you.” Mystics withdraw to nourish both inner and outer silence. Mystics go on retreat. Mystics cultivate inner peace and serenity. Mystics seek to live a holy life. Not a withered, prudish, pleasure-hating life: that’s Puritanism, not holiness. True holiness knows how to laugh, to love, to enjoy, to delight and take delight. But all is in appropriate and due measure. True holiness also knows  how to be quiet, to avoid (or resolve) conflict, to listen, to ponder, to reflect, to watch, to act simply. It’s a balance we can all benefit from.
     10. Mystics see. Finally, let’s expand on this idea that a holy person, or a mystic, knows how to listen and to watch. The New Testament has a very simple message: “Wake up!” Watch the signs of the times. Be alert for the coming of the Christ. This message is as important today as ever. Great mystics have often been visionaries, capable of seeing extraordinary or supernatural things, either through dreams, or meditation, or mystical visions. Not all of us are called to such lofty heights, but I do believe we are all called to wake up, to pay attention, to be mindful, to learn to discern the subtle and nuanced stirrings of the Spirit in our lives. Richard Rohr’s latest book, The Naked Now, is subtitled “learning to see as the mystics see.” He writes at length about mystical consciousness as unifying, non-oppositional, non-dual. Mysticism is about cultivating this higher, more unitive way of being. It’s a way of seeing, it’s a mode of awareness, it’s learning to live in the felt presence of the God who is always present, always loving, whether we know it or not. Mystics choose to know it. And that’s what makes all the difference.

  October 15, 2010

  Christian mysticism, Christianity, Contemplation, Holiness, Lectio Divina, meditation, Meister Eckhart, mystical teachings, mystical wisdom, Mystics, Prayer, Richard Rohr, sacrifice, serenity, silence

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• Lectio Divina

  Some Christians will tell you that the heart of Christian spirituality is reading the Bible. Others will say that the key to mystical intimacy with God is not filling your mind with words, but bathing it in silence.

  The ancient Benedictine practice of lectio divina is the nexus where these two very different spiritual practices come together.

  Lectio divina is a Latin term that literally means “sacred reading.” It is a method of reading — a way of approaching the experience of encountering a text, that enables a person to open the reading process up to the presence of God.

  The written word is a tool, and like all tools, it serves as a means to an end. We read to learn, to gather information, to be entertained, to stay in touch with our best friend from high school or with a blogger from halfway around the world whom we’ve never met in person. Indeed, the ability to read is a profound blessing — one that we typically use to make our lives better.

  What this means, though, is that reading is essentially an exercise in which we maintain (or seek to expand) control over our lives. We read to attain something we may not otherwise have: more knowledge, more pleasure, more mastery, more skill, more data, more fun, more love and social contact.

  Lectio divina turns all of this on its head.

  

  Lectio divina involves reading a passage from the Bible or some other sacred text (such as a work by one of the saints or mystics) as an act of prayer. Rather than a means of gathering information, it is a practice for formation — spiritual formation, in which the reader seeks to be formed by the Spirit of God. Lectio divina does not involve study or scholarship, but rather consists of a slow, meditative, heart-felt encounter with the words of the text.

  Traditionally, lectio is the first of a four-part process of spiritual practice:

  • Lectio — prayerful, slow, heart-centered reading of a sacred text;
  • Meditatio — deliberate pondering of the message in the text;
  • Oratio — responding to God’s message with honest, sincere prayer;
  • Contemplatio — allowing the prayer to dissolve into wordless, thoughtless contemplation, or simply resting in the Divine presence.

  Lectio is a subversive activity, subversive because it invites us to surrender our willfulness and control to the leadings and promptings of the Holy Spirit. Thus, it runs counter to the mainstream values of our Type-A culture. In the intentional slowness of the lectio experience, we are reminded that Christian spirituality emphasizes God’s action and our response. Thus, lectio is a practice in which we learn to discern God’s presence, hidden in the sacred text and in the subtle stirrings of our hearts and minds; and in dicerning the Divine presence, we are called to recognize the deeply relational nature of Christian mysticism: it’s not so much about finding the “God within” (although we learn to recognize the presence of God within us) as about learning to celebrate the mystery of encountering the God who is both intimately one with us and wholly transcendent and other.

  How to do Lectio Divina

  All you need to engage in the practice of lectio divina is a text to read (ideally the Bible or a writing of one of the great mystics), enough time to read it slowly and deliberately, and, ideally, a quiet place where you feel comfortable reading and praying. To allow for not only lectio but the subsequent steps or meditatio, oratio, and contemplatio, allow at least 20 minutes (although half an hour to an hour is ideal). It’s critical not to rush — lectio can be a powerful and transformational practice even when only reading a single sentence or two! Remember, the goal behind lectio is not amassing knowledge or information (you can always supplement your lectio practice with other time set aside for more academic spiritual reading), but rather simply creating the space where God may encounter you via the medium of the sacred word.

  Read a sentence, or a few — up to a paragraph or two. Then slowly re-read the passage, and perhaps even read it again a third or fourth time, as slowly as possible. Instead of analyzing the text, keep an open mind. Let the text read you. Be open to discerning a particular word or phrase that speaks to you with particular meaning or relevance. When you encounter such a word or phrase, stop reading! That is your signal to move on to the reflective, “meditatio” stage of the practice. In meditatio, ponder thoughtfully about what this particular word or phrase means to you, and how God could be using this word to communicate with you. Eventually, you may feel inspired to engage in your own verbal, prayerful response to God’s word: this is the oratio stage. Pray honestly, simply, sincerely. Remember, you pray not to make a good impression, but to simply be intimate with the One who loves you. Eventually the words will drop away; at this point allow the wordless silence to embrace you as you simply sit in God’s presence.

  Congratulations — you now have tasted the riches of this venerable spiritual practice. Make time regularly to engage in this slow but rewarding form of prayer.

  For Further Reading

  • Enzo Bianchi, Praying the Word: An Introduction to Lectio Divina
  • Michael Casey, Sacred Reading: The Ancient Art of Lectio Divina
  • Michel de Verteuil, Let All the Peoples Praise Him: Lectio Divina and the Psalms
  • Mary C. Earle, Broken Body, Healing Spirit: Lectio Divina and Living with Illness
  • David Foster, Reading with God: Lectio Divina
  • Thelma Hall, Too Deep for Words: Rediscovering Lectio Divina
  • Stephen Hough, The Bible as Prayer: A Handbook for Lectio Divina
  • Tony Jones, Divine Intervention: Encountering God Through the Ancient Practice of Lectio Divina
  • Mariano Magrassi, Praying the Bible: An Introduction to Lectio Divina
  • Mario Masini, Lectio Divina: An Ancient Prayer that is Ever New
  • Silvester O’Flynn, Come and See: Lectio Divina With John’s Gospel
  • M. Basil Pennington, Lectio Divina: Renewing the Ancient Practice of Praying the Scriptures
  • Eugene H. Peterson, Eat this Book: A Conversation in the Art of Spiritual Reading
  • Ghislaine Salvail, At the Crossroads of Scripture: An Introduction to Lectio Divina
  • Karl A. Schultz, How to Pray With the Bible: The Ancient Prayer Form of Lectio Divina Made Simple
  • Martin L. Smith, The Word is Very Near You: A Guide to Praying with Scripture

  August 6, 2007

  Contemplation, contemplative practice, Lectio Divina

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