He then went on to describe the importance of reading scripture as parable, allowing the Holy One to speak to us through it.

Ah, I thought.

He's talking about the Catholic tradition of lectio divina.

Some of us who were brought up on the Bible, have come a long way from believing it was dictated word for word by God.

Basic research reveals the Bible as a library of books, a faith history written by men in another culture and other times.

Like us, they were trying to find the meaning of life and the sacred Presence that interacted with them.

That Presence was beyond human language.

People could only understand God through their culture and speak about God in metaphorical language that related to their lives.

Don't we all do that?

Talk about dry

As a teenager in the early 1950s I attended a Bible study course on the Gospels.

Three learned men talked about the life of Jesus in Matthew, Mark, Luke and John as historical fact, ironing out inconsistencies and contradictions.

I was disappointed. The talks were as dry as dust.

When I opened my Bible to read these gospels, words came alive.

Some words jumped up at me. Some danced, tingling in chest and arms.

A phrase or verse could be a companion for a day or more and take me to a wider place that could not be described.

My friend Jesus seemed very close.

The Bible study course had nothing to do with personal experience.

It left me disappointed and bewildered.

Many decades later, I realised I'd been reading scripture as lectio divina, and had placed wrong expectation on an academic course.

I also learned that Mark, the first gospel to be written, was at least 60 years after Jesus.

Until then the teachings had been oral, passed down by the apostles.

So of course, there was no point in making idols out of words.

Human memory isn't that accurate.

How do we read the gospels today?

The clue is in Mark and Matthew where we read that Jesus taught everything in parables.

Matthew emphasizes this in the Aramaic way of stating something twice - as a positive and then a double negative making a positive. "Jesus spoke all things in Parables. Without a parable was not anything he said."

Dear old Mother Church is wise.

The books of the Bible are part of our heritage: in them we have the history of covenant from Abraham to fulfilment in Christ Jesus.

We gain much from reading these texts through the process of lectio divina.

The words do not stay trapped in our heads but flow through the openness of prayer, to our hearts.

There they will feed us.

The nourishment we need for the moment will stay with us and the words we don't need will pass us by.

This is the Spirit of Jesus at work.

And because parables meet us where we are, their meaning will change as we change.

Reading the gospels this way brings us to the realisation that all of Jesus' teachings come down to two things - love and non-violence.

I guess that can be further reduced to one thing.

It's all about love.

• Joy Cowley is a wife, mother, grandmother, great-grandmother and retreat facilitator.

Now, I'm not usually one for women's devotionals (or devotionals of any sort, for that matter). But my sister knows this, so when she suggested Rooted in Hope, I thought it was worth a look.

Ladies, this Scripture study is an actual Scripture study!

It trains the reader in lectio divina, an ancient practice of prayerfully reading Scripture, then leads you through that practice with different Scripture passages each day of Advent.

But more than that, it gives you background and context for each Scriptural passage, followed by a reflection on each passage.

The reflections deal with all different kinds of life experiences, with different women reflecting on the different ways they've learned to love God.

But the heart of the devotional is God's Word-both excerpts in the book and additional passages that the authors point you to. It's impossible to use this devotional well without having your Bible open alongside it, which is exactly how devotionals ought to work.

Reading through Rooted in Hope, I found myself flipping to different passages, wanting to chew through the Word of God and enter more deeply into it.

And on days when you might not want to take time to ruminate on the Scriptures, the text holds you accountable by inviting you to take notes on your lectio each day.

It's a gentle invitation (the editor explicitly tells you to be gentle with yourself, not to make this yet another task to accomplish, another reason to become discouraged when we fail), but one that beckons, if for no other reason than that it's supremely unsatisfying to leave these pages blank. Continue reading

• Meg Hunter-Kilmer is a cradle Catholic and a revert, brought back to the fold by a grace-filled confession and the supreme logic of Catholic doctrine.

We thought these words very daring and wondered if they were okay with God.

On the other hand, Dad could yell at us, "I'll thrash ye tae an inch o yer life!" and we took no notice because he said it often and never did it.

As children, we were trained to replace bad language with good, so that swearing adjectives were predominately "jolly" and "blessed." "That jolly cat has pooed under my bed again." "The blessed fire has gone out because the wood's wet."

Those words took on weight with use and became a part of everything that caused frustration. Blessed cut finger. Blessed power cuts. As you can imagine, when I became a

Catholic, there was a small hiccup from the past over "Blessed be God forever."

When I reflect on the language that is my heritage, I realise that certain words and phrases have formed deep tracks through use, with the result they've become invisible, or their intended meaning has changed.

As a new Catholic convert, the beauty of the Mass enthralled me. It was as fresh as a field of fragrant flowers. Phrases were eagerly internalised and then gradually, they became ordinary and were taken for granted.

Familiarity may not breed contempt but it can produce complacency. In the middle of prayers, I would find myself wondering what kind of vinegar I'd use to pickle some onions, or whether I'd forgotten to put a stamp on a letter I'd posted.

I'm sure I'm not the only person guilty of such wanderings.

So how do we cultivate an awareness that holds the living freshness of the liturgy?

Something that works for me, is to hear the liturgy as lectio divina. This is not about focussing on every word, but about being open to all of it. Usually, the meaning I need falls into an inner space where it feeds the heart.

How does it work? I don't know. The Holy Spirit doesn't reveal secrets, but work it does. Well-worn words come up fresh and new.

Lord, you are holy indeed, the fount of all holiness. This has passed my ears hundreds of times, but today I'm filled with a fountain of water sparkling with light, and it feels very much like love. Yes, yes, I needed that. Lately I've been very dry.

The Lord be with you. There is a rush of knowing. Of course, he's with us. Closer than close! Dearer than dear! He is the light glowing in everyone around me. He connects us all.

Then comes the Lord's Prayer, so dense that meaning can be lost. Our Father who art in heaven. Heaven? Jesus told us the kingdom of heaven is within. Do I need to go any further than that? Something inside me trembles with awe.

When I pray the liturgy this way, there is always something new.

• Joy Cowley is a wife, mother, grandmother, great-grandmother and retreat facilitator.

"This Lectio Divina initiative is a way the Archdiocese is responding to the plea of Pope Francis to make the sacred Scriptures better known and more widely diffused.

"He has reminded us that we can take creative initiatives in our parishes so that we can become 'living vessels for the transmission of God's word'. Lectio Divina is a wonderful way for us to become these living vessels," Cardinal John Dew says.

"There will be only one reading (the Gospel), which the lay reader will read.

"The lay reader - called the Lectio Divina Leader - will also guide the congregation through the Lectio Divina process, which involves both listening to and reflecting on the Gospel.

"The process is something all of us can do at home," Cardinal John explains.

"What will happen is the reader will invite the congregation to close their eyes and listen prayerfully while the Gospel (Matthew 22: 34-40 - which is about Our Lord's greatest commandment) is being read. While they are listening, each person will be listening for a word, image or phrase that strikes them in some way."

After the Gospel has been read, there will be a 30-second period of silence.

The Leader will then re-read the Gospel and again invite everybody to listen for the word, image or phrase that has occurred to them while they were listening.

"The Leader will invite everyone to reflect on this word, image or phrase, giving it their full attention and letting it fill their minds without trying to analyse it.

"The Leader will remind them they are in God's presence, so all they need to do is let the Holy Spirit lead their understanding of what has been read."

Then there will be another short period of silence.

The Leader will then give everyone time to think about what they want to say to God in response to the Gospel passage they've just heard. Some may want to praise God, others to thank Him, say sorry to Him or ask God for something for themselves or for someone else.

"Just talk to God, silently in your hearts," Cardinal John says.

In the next stage, the Leader will ask everyone just to try to rest in God's love.

Another period of silence will follow - for 90 seconds or so.

In the last part of the process the Leader will invite each person to recall the word, idea, image or phrase they first focused on and to think of something they could do during the next 24 hours to remind them of the idea that affected them in some way. There will be a 30-second period of silence to allow everyone the opportunity to do this.

"The Leader will end the Lectio Divina process with a short prayer of thanksgiving," Cardinal John says.

Source

• Archdiocese of Wellington (supplied)
  
• Image: YouTube

I think it began in monasteries, where monks sat at their evening meal, listening to the reading of the day.

When a verse or phrase had meaning for a monk, he would leave the table and take the words to his cell for evening prayer. The lector would read the same scripture over and over until the last monk left the room.

A form of lectio divina is used with people on retreats. We call it "listening prayer."

There is preparation for it, a quietening of mind and body, a gentle settling of the distractions that rise like dust to obscure the beautiful light in the heart. Lectio divina is not a part of a program or presentation.

It has its own unhurried space.

We have a Bible and usually, a lit candle.

Another aspect of preparation is awareness of the way praying with scripture works.

It is an unwrapping process, a bit like the game ‘pass the parcel' each layer producing some new gift.

Generally, there are four layers, four stages, although this can vary; it is impossible to place any kind of formula on the work of the Spirit of Jesus.

The journey is from head to heart and sometimes a person will be taken directly to the heart space.

For the rest of us, it can work like this:

Information comes first.

We have the expectation that we'll receive a gift from this reading, so we listen to every detail, noting anything that connects with us. That connection usually comes as some kind of feeling. What happens in our body while we are listening? For example, the reading may be from Mark 1: 10-20, where Jesus calls Simon and Andrew and then James and John. I feel a movement within me as I pick up on the immediacy in the passage- ‘at once' they left their nets. ‘At once' they followed Jesus.'

The second stage is allegorical.

The story now becomes parable for the present moment. It's about Jesus choosing to work with and through community today, and about our response to him. There comes awareness of the varied ways Jesus calls, teaches and heals in the church.

The third stage is personal interpretation.

The words ‘at once' were like small pebbles thrown, making me flinch. What did that mean? Have I been slow to respond, sometimes deaf? I sit with that for a while, asking God for clarity.

The fourth stage is wordless prayer.

This is the deepest part of lectio divina where we let go of ideas and judgements. Even the words of scripture rest in silence. There is an inner quiet born of emptiness and often a feeling of great spaciousness as though there are no boundaries to the heart.

It is difficult to describe the end result of lectio divina because it is non-personal and beyond language. It is a place of Oneness where paradox makes perfect sense.

It is another form of holy communion and the response is profound gratitude.

• Joy Cowley is a wife, mother, grandmother, great-grandmother and retreat facilitator.