De Mello: Lectio Divina and More

De Mello: Lectio Divina and More

The meditatio [meditation part in Lectio Divina] is done not with one’s mind, but with one’s mouth. When the psalmist tells us how he loves to meditate, how he finds it sweeter to his palate than honey from the honeycomb, is he talking about meditation merely as an intellectual exercise? I like to think that he is also talking about the constant recitation of God’s law—so he mediates as much with his mouth as with his head.” —Anthony de Mello in Sadhana: A Way to God (Liguori, 1998).

De Mello also offers a different way to practice the Benedictine Lectio Divina. He suggests we read Scripture (lectio) until the word or phrase comes that resonates with us, and then stop (meditatio) and constantly repeat the word with pauses. In this way, we pray not just with our mind but with our body. When we feel saturated with the word, we stop and enter into prayer (oratio). He also suggests a group form of the exercise, using chant along with large segments of silence.

De Mello adds a new dimension to the Jesus Prayer by imaging Jesus with each word, saying his name with each breath, and finally hearing Jesus call us by name.

De Mello tells the story of the major guilt of a man who just barely misses his father’s death. My experience is this so often is an impetus that brings many people to spiritual direction. I am constantly amazed at how God works. We are called back to God even—and maybe even especially—by those who have died.

De Mello calls us to live intimately and fully in the present moment in order to become a part of the great mystery of God’s love for us and for all creation. The present is where we meet God.

Joanna. Joannaseobert.com

Ricoeur: May You Live Long Enough

Ricoeur and Anonymous: May You Live Long Enough

Anonymous Guest Writer

“I find myself only by losing myself” —Paul Ricoeur.

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“It is always possible to argue against an interpretation, to confront interpretations, to arbitrate between them and seek for an agreement, even if this agreement remains beyond our reach.” —Paul Ricoeur.

May you live long enough …

To be able to laugh at your most embarrassing moments in the past—sportingly owning the temporary title of “dunce”—before passing it on to the next clown in this dance of win-and-lose, hit-and-error called “life.”

To side with your own former adversaries if only for a glancing moment—to accept that in certain past disagreements or outright conflicts that cobble your past: “The other person had a point.”

To realize that even your greatest “triumphs” owe much to outside influences: others’ kind and diligent contribution, the coming together of circumstances, and “sparks” of grace flung from afar that happened to hit you in the moment.

To experience prayer as the automatic breathing of petitions for others’ good—urgently present in your heart before your own needs or requests enter your awareness.

To meet someone whose efforts or example—in any category—put you to “shame,” and feel joy that such understanding or expertise or goodness exists in the world apart from your receiving any specific personal gain from it.

To recognize that your “defeats,” by the world’s judgment, were blessed checks and balances in the larger arc of your journey toward maturity and self-acceptance.

To feel genuinely sad for people who seemed to be unfair and cruel to you for no apparent reason, and to lament the conditions that must have made them that way—even when their cruelty caused you genuine pain.

To let go of any idea that we might be able to judge who is worthy or unworthy of anything that comes to them in this life—or in the life to come.

“We look not at what can be seen but at what cannot be seen; for what can be seen is temporary, but what cannot be seen is eternal.” —2 Corinthians 4:18.

“We also boast in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint us, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts. … ” —Romans 5:3-5.

Recognizing God

“He who recognizes a king in disguise treats him differently from he who sees before him only the figure of an ordinary man and treats him accordingly. Likewise, souls who can recognize God in the most trivial, the most grievous and most mortifying things that happen to them, honour everything equally with delight and welcome with open arms what others dread and avoid.” —Jean-Pierre de Caussade in The Sacrament of the Present Moment (HarperOne, 1966).

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I know people like this who seem to treat everyone equally, one person is no more important than another, all are human and divine at the same time. They seem to see the Holy Spirit, the God, the Christ in each person they meet. They do not look merely at the outer appearances or political stature or wealth or power that a person represents. This approach certainly was modeled for us by Christ.

My experience teaches me that if we cannot see Christ in our neighbor, often it is because we cannot see Christ in ourselves. Consequently, we project onto others our unchristlike behavior that we do not realize is really within us.

How do we change? Along the way, we are touched by someone who treats us as if we really do contain a divine spark, the holy within us—that is, we are treated with love. It is as though a spark becomes lighted. A light, a lightbulb goes on inside of us. We begin to believe we are loved.

So, this is indeed our mission as spiritual friends: to seek out the light, the Christ in each other.

I remember talking to a spiritual friend about a family member I was having difficulty with. She helped me by asking me, “Tell me something good about her. Something she does well.”

My experience also is that I cannot see the Christ in someone else when I live in fear. I realized this recently when attending a meeting at which I was uncomfortable. I wanted to look good. I did not know exactly what was expected of me. I was fearful that I might make a mistake. As an introvert, I did not interact with anyone I did not know. I only had concern for what people might be thinking about me. Was I making a good impression?

At our next meeting, I hope to relate better to others. My plan is, just before the meeting, to say a prayer for each person I know who will be there, asking specifically that we will all see the Christ within each other. I will let you know how it goes.

Joanna. Joannaseibert.com