about lectio divina practice
Lectio divina (Latin for sacred reading) is a contemplative way of reading, praying, and taking a long, loving look at Scripture or some other text. In lectio divina, God teaches us to listen for and seek God’s presence in silence. We are not reading for ‘information’ but rather for ‘transformation’, attending to the everpresent indwelling Spirit’s subtle promptings, still small voice, and presence. Spiritual practices have a power to even re-wire our brains for love, Richard Rohr says.
There is no correct way to practice Lectio divina. Here is one way: read the text several times. With the first reading, listen with your heart’s ear for a phrase or word that stands out for you. During the second reading, reflect on what touches you, perhaps speaking that response aloud or writing in a journal. After reading the passage a third time, respond with a prayer or expression of what you have experienced and ask yourself what this passage calls you to do or be. Finally, after a fourth reading, rest in silence.
Here are 3 visual aid pictures of how Lectio practice helps us to read differently, with spiritual awareness, the first from our mountain home deck in a ‘dark skies’ valley in Colorado, the second from Howard Thurman’s life, the third from a letter called De Profundis, from Oscar Wilde when he was imprisoned:
Lectio reading is like the slow, steady appearance of the stars on our ‘dark skies’ deck in Cotopaxi, as ambient light slowly fades upon nightfall, the pre-existing stars – which are always present– become more and more clear if we are patient, still, and watch.
As a seminary student walking home late one night, Thurman noticed the sound of water. He had taken this route many times, and he had never heard even a drip. The next day Thurman discussed his observations with one of his professors, who told him that a canal ran underneath the street. Because the noises of streetcars, automobiles, and passersby were absent late at night, Howard could discern the sound of water. Thurman equates these sounds... to the inner chatter within our minds that prevents us from being aware of God’s presence. Quieting the surface noise in our minds is what Thurman urges us to do when he instructs us, as he does throughout his writings, to “center down.” “What attracts and holds our attention determines how and when we will experience God… It is here that I learn to listen, to swing wide the very doors of my being, to clean out the corners and the crevices of my life—so that when His Presence invades, I am free to enjoy His coming to Himself in me.”
At Christmas, I managed to get hold of a Greek Testament, and every morning, after I had cleaned my cell and washed my tins, I read a little of the gospels, a dozen verses taken by chance anywhere. It is a delightful way of opening the day. Every one, even in a turbulent, ill-disciplined life, should do the same. Endless repetition, in and out of season, has spoiled for us the freshness, the naivete’, the simple romantic charm of the gospels. We hear them read far too often and far too badly, and all repetition is anti-spiritual. When one returns to the greek; it is like going into a garden of lilies out of some narrow and dark house.
