The practice of reading, thinking, and praying about a line of scripture was a frequent exercise during my Franciscan and Benedictine school years. At the time, I did not know this by its Latin name, Lectio Divina, but I received a renewed introduction to this practice last evening.
Possibly because of the widespread dissemination of the Rule of St. Benedict, I associated the four-step practice: read, meditate, pray, contemplate, with St. Benedict (480-547 CE) when its origins are earlier and have been adapted through time. There is a Franciscan variation designed by St. Clare of Assisi (1194-1253 CE) and, following St. Ignatius of Loyola (1491-1556 CE), the Jesuits expand their mediation into action.
Recognizing that wisdom may be drawn from many sources, a 21st century adaptation of the Lectio Divina encourages the participant to dwell on sacred words beyond just those of a biblical origin but still integrates four thoughtful steps: begin, pause, reflect, contemplate.
Begin: Read the text slowly.
Pause: Let the words settle.
Reflect: Meditate, pray, or write.
Contemplate: Identify what the text calls you to do.
The appeal of Benedict’s Divine Order is that each day’s text is predetermined. The reader joins a communion of others contemplating those same words. There is extra work required to expand the Lectio Divina to include a modern collection of poetry. Today, on a third Thursday Gathering of Poetry, I will begin my Lectio Divina with words from Lucille Clifton.
True, this isn’t paradise,
but we come at last to love it
for the sweet hay and flowers rising,
for the corn lining up row on row,
for the mourning doves
who open the darkness with song,
for warm rains and forgiving fields,
and for how, each day,
something that loves us
tries to save us.
Graphic credit: © Peg Green
Knit+ Librarian 