Lectio Divina

excerpt from How to Become a Saint by Jack Bernard

Lectio divina was probably brought to the West from the Eastern desert fathers by John Cassian at the beginning of the fifth century. However, it has been closely connected to Saint Benedict whose blueprint for monastic life formed much of Western monasticism. Traditionally, lectio divina is divided into four distinct parts, or movements, which are still often referred to by the Latin terms lectio, meditatio, oratio, and contemplatio. These mean something like: reading, reflection, prayer, and contemplation. The method of lectio divina is described by the twelfth-century Carthusian prior Guigo II as follows: “Reading, you should seek; meditating, you will find; praying, you shall call; and contemplating, the door will be opened to you.” A contemporary Southern rural minister, when asked how he prayed, replied: “I reads myself full; I thinks myself clear; I prays myself hot; I lets myself cool.”

Lectio (reading)

Lectio divina begins with simply reading some part of scripture. The portion used can be large or small; there is no prescription or formula for it. I often just read until it feels like I need to stop and think about it for a while.

Meditatio (meditation)

The word meditation in this context means putting your mind to what you have been reading and opening yourself to God in the process. For example, when I read John 1:5 I think about the light shining in the darkness, about Jesus coming into the world as the light of God. But I don’t stop there. I go on to think about the darkness in my own soul, my struggles of light against darkness, and also the struggles in the souls of my brothers and sisters in the church. The image of light and darkness takes on a very personal meaning. What is usually called “Bible study” takes place in this step, as I search out the meaning of the text and open myself to what the implications are for me. For example, in meditating on this passage, I received an overwhelming personal assurance of the ultimate victory of light over darkness in my own case and that of several others in the church. This was not a private revelation. Through the Spirit’s help I had simply grasped the implications of what I had read. You won’t always receive that clear an illumination. Some texts obviously lend themselves more to it than others. The Spirit who is beyond our control is the one who guides us as we read.

The difficulty in finding the relevance of some texts can prod you to look for hidden meanings. I don’t recommend that method, especially not if you tend toward believing that your imaginative interpretations are what the texts themselves mean. On the other hand, once you have tried to understand the texts, you can let your imagination run very freely and let the scriptural images or stories take root in you. While this step in lectio divina is a thinking step, it is not simply working out logical deductions. It will include that, but expect God occasionally to show you things you would not have seen through your own process of logical deduction. For example, while reading a passage in Second Chronicles about King Ahaziah of Judah being influenced by bad counsel to his ruin, I don’t settle on thinking about Ahaziah’s unfaithfulness. I don’t want to just work out the practical teaching examples of giving and receiving advice. I feel the impact in terms of how ill-equipped I am to direct God’s people even though I have often thought otherwise. That is not a teaching derived from interpreting this text. The Spirit is leading me to a sense of dependence and prayer. As for discerning what is the Spirit and what is my own vivid imagination, dependence and prayer are pretty safe indicators of the Spirit.

Oratio (prayer)

Prayer is the natural response to God that comes from being in his presence as we have read and reflected on the scripture. We naturally respond by calling out to God for his help for ourselves and others. Our plea naturally turns to praise for what he is doing.

Contemplatio (contemplation)

The meaning of contemplation as applied to Christian prayer has changed during the course of history. What Saint Bernard of Clairvaux meant by contemplatio and what Saint John of the Cross meant by it a few hundred years later aren’t quite the same thing. I think it is best to understand contemplation as something like resting quietly in the presence of God. I like the “I lets myself cool” perspective quoted above. You have read, you have thought about what you have read, you have responded to God in prayer; now just sit there. Don’t rush off to do something else as if you had something more important to do. It’s hard to explain what to do in contemplation, because it is precisely not doing anything. Be in God’s presence without babbling on about doing something, like Peter did at the transfiguration (Matt. 17:1–8; Mark 9:2–8; Luke 9:28–36).

Most of us have a lot in common with Peter. Don’t be distraught if your mind is a clutter of irrelevant thoughts, but don’t just give yourself over to the thoughts either. As they come, try to give them over to God. If this is hard, attempt it for three to five minutes but don’t make a torture of it. God is present. That is a fact. In time you will grow increasingly conscious of it.

I find that I often move back and forth freely between these steps—you do not have to follow a prescribed order. Start with the reading part to give focus to the rest. If moving along in order helps, fine—but don’t fight it if you find yourself doing otherwise on occasion. If I am reading a long passage of scripture, as I usually do when I am reading the historical books, I occasionally think about them as I go. That naturally leads to prayer, and so on, back and forth. Remember, it is seeking God that is important, not the method. The method is designed to get you prayerfully into the scriptures, where you will find God.