Lectio Divina
The Art of Lectio Divina
by Fr Michael Casey
As it is now used, lectio divina is understood as the prayerful meditation of the text of the Bible and of other writings that embody the faith of the Church. The term lectio divina originally referred to the reading of the Scriptures during the liturgy. As literacy and the availability of books increased, the context of this reading became less communal and more personal, as can be seen from St Benedict’s provision of individual books for reading during Lent. This personal reading served as a complement to the liturgy, and became a characteristic feature of Benedictine spirituality. It ceased to be principally an oral-aural and communal experience and became more and more an internal dialogue of the heart with the text, and through the text with God.
Dynamic
Lectio differs substantially from the ordinary act of reading, even “spiritual reading”. Lectio is at the service of prayer and goes beyond the act of merely absorbing the contents of a page. The classical formulation of this dynamic was given by Guigo the Carthusian (d. 1188): lectio, meditatio, oratio, contemplatio: reading, meditation, prayer contemplation. What is read must first be digested and assimilated through a process of quiet repetition, in which we aim to become progressively attuned to its subtle echoes in the heart. The text thus serves as a mirror that brings inner realities to consciousness. This heightened awareness exposes our need for divine help and readily leads to prayer. Sometimes, in this dialogue with God, we become more aware of God than of our own needs and pass into the simpler and more profound state of contemplation. Lectio can thus be viewed as a pathway towards contemplation. This is not, however, to say that the four steps constitute a sequential method to be followed, or that each is present in every lectio. Often the various phases are spread throughout the day as mindfulness of the Word is prolonged, and we keep responding to what we have read in the way that we live.
Practice
Initially we need to acquire the discipline of close reading, paying attention to every word and sentence and not allowing ourselves to pass over anything. This deliberateness is helped by reading out loud, learning to articulate or vocalise of the words as a means of slowing down and avoiding distraction. Lectio is like reading poetry; the sound of the words creates interior assonances, which in turn trigger intuitive connections which lodge more effectively in the memory. In lectio, the intention is affective not cognitive, it is a work of a heart that desires to make contact with God and, thereby, to reform our lives. Some wider reading can help us to sidestep speculative questions which would otherwise disperse our energies. This preparation is not lectio, but it serves it well. Attention to the ambience of our lectio will often help to lead us more smoothly into prayer. Anything that we can do in terms of choice of place or posture, or to secure silence will keep potential disturbances at bay. Using an icon or a candle, or offering reverence to the book of the Scriptures will often help us to move into a more prayerful space.
The Benedictine Spirit
There are three terms found in monastic tradition that describe an appropriate attitude to lectio. Our reading must be assiduous or generous, that is to say it must involve a sustained expenditure of forethought and energy and will often demand a sacrifice of time which could have been devoted to other things. Lectio must be done in a spirit of reverence, expressed in the manner in which we treat the sacred book itself, in our posture and in the way in which we make practical provision to exclude from this space whatever is not sacred. It is reverence which makes us keep silent and receptive so that we can listen to the word that speaks to our souls and brings salvation. When we open the sacred book we also open ourselves; we let ourselves become vulnerable — willing to be pierced by God’s two-edged sword. This is what St Benedict refers to as compunction, allowing ourselves to experience the double dynamic of every genuine encounter with God: the growing awareness of our urgent need for forgiveness and healing on the one hand and, on the other, a more profound confidence in God’s superabundant mercy.
Challenges
Two areas call for constant vigilance. Firstly we must be not only hearers but doers of the word. Unless we come to our lectio with an antecedent will for conversion, the exercise is vain. Our lectio will thrive most fully when we aim to incarnate what we read in the way we act. When God seems silent, it is usually because either there is a latent resistance, or there is too much inner noise coming from a multiplicity of other concerns. Sometimes the difficulties we experience in lectio serve as a summons to re-examine our lives and to seek to establish there a greater harmony with what we read. Secondly we have to renounce the search for novelty. Lectio needs to be regular and not erratic. We need, as St Benedict insisted, to read whole books of Scriptures from beginning to end, quietly working our way through a Gospel or an Old Testament prophet, willing to be surprised, resisting the temptation to exercise total control over what we read.
Joy
Lectio demands much of us, but it is an enriching experience that constantly renews our spiritual life. God’s word adds perspective to our experience, gives meaning to our struggles and keeps alive the flame of hope. Above all, contact with the Scriptures is a source of joy and delight to the heart, bringing us into an ever-deeper relationship to the God whom we seek and to Jesus who calls us.
