How to do REAL lectio divina

One of the current Pope's important contributions to the rehabilitation of Scripture in the lives of Catholics is his instruction on how to do lectio divina. 

Lectio divina, or holy reading, has been popularised in recent years by assorted monks and others. 

Unfortunately, much of the guidance around amounts to nothing much more than, read the text aloud a few times, seize on whatever part of it gives you a good vibe, and tell everyone about your emotional response to it.

It's the kind of approach that might work well if you are a trained theologian with a good knowledge of the whole of Scripture. But which is extremely dangerous for the typical under-catechized cafeteria Catholic whose acquaintance with Scripture is at best superficial.  Contrast that with the Pope's instructions on how to do real lectio divina, which reflect the real monastic tradition, not the pop version often propagated today under its name.

The stages of lectio divina

Pope Benedict XVI suggests, in his Post-Synodal Exhortation Verbum Domini, that there are five stages to the process:

1. Lectio (a terms that literally means reading, but in late antiquity and medieval usage also encompassed translating, thinking about studying the text): The Pope suggests that the fundamental question to be answered at this stage is, 'what does the text mean'?

2. Meditatio (meditation): 'what does the biblical text say to us'?

3. Oratio (prayer): 'what do we say to the Lord in response to his word'?

4. Contemplatio (contemplation): 'what conversion of mind, heart and life is the Lord asking of us'?

5. Actio (action; sometimes the term 'work' is used for this stage in medieval schemas for lectio): Putting it into practice.

Using all of the tools at our disposal to get at meaning

It is at the 'lectio' stage that the Pope proposes the integration of the tools offered by exegesis and theology into the process.

He makes the point that Scriptural interpretation is not just a purely individual matter: we must read it in the light of the faith, and in accordance with the principles the Church as set out.

In particular he points to the importance of:  

• the way the New Testament definitively interprets the Old;
• the witness of tradition: we must read "in communion with the Church, that is, with all the great witnesses to this word, beginning with the earliest Fathers up to the saints of our own day, up to the present-day magisterium";
• drawing on the tools of exegesis;
• with attention to both the literal and spiritual senses of the text (noting that the spiritual is subdivided into three senses which deal with the contents of the faith, with the moral life and with our eschatological aspirations).

The lectio stage, in other words, is not just a matter of reading the text through a few times, but requires serious study.

Meditation through to action

And this intellectual orientation carries through into the other stages of the process. At the meditation stage, for example, he suggests that "we must open ourselves to what God wants to say to us, ‘overcoming our deafness to those words that do not fit our own opinions or prejudices’. The theological implications of the text, in other words, should inform and be the subject of our meditations, prayers and consideration for action.

 It is not, of course, all a matter of intellect. The Pope stresses that lectio divina must be a dialogue with God, involving prayer, as petition, intercession, thanksgiving and praise, so that "the word transforms us".

Dialogue though, involves listening, and listening not just to what we feel personally here and now, but also to what God has said to us through his Church down the ages. Sound advice indeed.

Working from the Vulgate: three good reasons

Most contemporary Scripture scholars tend to take the Greek New Testament, or the Hebrew (generally  the Masoretic Text) as their starting points.  By contrast, on this blog I generally plan to focus primarily (though certainly not exclusively) on the Latin (Clementine) Vulgate text of Scripture. 

Why? 

There are in my view three good reasons for starting from the Vulgate.

1.  Scripture is (mostly) not written in stone: rather the Church has an officially approved version(s) of it, and it is in Latin.

Christians tend to think of 'the Bible' as a fixed text.  The reality is rather different. 

The Bible has been passed down to us in manuscripts copied by fallible scribes who could make errors.  Some of the books of the Bible went through several editorial compilations/drafts, and different traditions have survived in different manuscript families, resulting for example, in legitimate text variants between the 'Septuagint/Vulgate' tradition and the modern-day 'Hebrew' Bible (that is, the Masoretic Text, the oldest manuscript of which dates from the middle ages).  And some of the books of the Old Testament may not have been composed in Hebrew at all, but Aramaic and other languages, so have been subjected to a translation process.

What books of the Bible constitute the canon of Scripture is the result of Tradition and Magisterial decisions. Translations fall into the same category: the Church has always been aware that translation decisions can distort the meaning of Scripture, and thus reserved the right to approve translations for various purposes to itself.

And because the Catholic Church retains Latin as its official language, the official, standard version of its Scripture is actually in Latin, not Greek or Hebrew.  Accordingly, while we can properly draw on other languages to throw light on the meaning of the text, the proper Catholic starting point is the Latin.

2. But which version of the Latin?  The Vulgate has withstood the test of time.

Over the centuries there has been greater and lesser degrees of satisfaction with the version of the Latin used in the liturgy.  Attempts have been made to classicize first the hymns of the Breviary, and in the twentieth century the psalter itself.  But sooner or later, general use has reverted to the Vulgate.  Why is that?

Within the Church, there are today three main, 'official' base texts for Scripture.

The first chronologically and perhaps in terms of priority is the Greek, consisting of the Septuagint translation of the Old Testament made from the third century before Our Lord onwards, and the New Testament as it has come down to us in that language. The Septuagint was originally approved by the Jewish hierarchy (though repudiated in the second century in reaction to Christianity's appropriation of it), was widely used at the time of Our Lord, and is extensively quoted in the New Testament.  Recent scholarship arising from the Dead Sea Scrolls has led to a renewed interest in the Septuagint, because some of the manuscripts found there attest both to the integrity of the Septuagint's manuscript tradition and translation, and to the truth of early Christian allegations of deliberate alteration of the Hebrew Masoretic Text to remove passages that supported Christian tradition. Greek Scripture continues to be used liturgically in Rome and in the Eastern Catholic (and Orthodox) Churches.

The second key text is the Vulgate translation largely made by St Jerome (from the Hebrew in the case of the Old Testament except for the psalms). The Vulgate has stood the test of time, continuing to be used in the '1962', or traditional versions of the liturgy, and the subject of a number of affirmations as to its use by the Magisterium.

The Council of Trent stated that:

“Moreover, the same sacred and holy Synod,--considering that no small utility may accrue to the Church of God, if it be made known which out of all the Latin editions, now in circulation, of the sacred books, is to be held as authentic,--ordains and declares, that the said old and vulgate edition, which, by the lengthened usage of so many years, has been approved of in the Church, be, in public lectures, disputations, sermons and expositions, held as authentic; and that no one is to dare, or presume to reject it under any pretext whatever… But if any one receive not, as sacred and canonical, the said books entire with all their parts, as they have been used to be read in the Catholic Church, and as they are contained in the old Latin vulgate edition; and knowingly and deliberately contemn the traditions aforesaid; let him be anathema.” (Fourth Session)

Vatican I reaffirmed this, stating that:

“The complete books of the old and the new Testament with all their parts, as they are listed in the decree of the said Council and as they are found in the old Latin Vulgate edition, are to be received as sacred and canonical.”

The third is the 'neo-Vulgate' authorised by Blessed Pope John Paul II. This is the current official text of the Catholic Church, used in the novus ordo/Ordinary Form liturgy, and as the base text for translations into other languages.  The Neo-Vulgate, promulgated in 1979, in effect displaces the Clementine Vulgate - but the older Vulgate version of the Vulgate continues to be approved for use in the liturgy courtesy of Summorum Pontificum and previous decrees. 

The main problem with the neo-Vulgate is that it reflects the state of Biblical scholarship at the time it was made.  In most cases the changes it makes move the text closer to the Hebrew 'Masoretic Text', accepting the view that had been building since the Reformation that the Septuagint translators often misunderstood the Hebrew and made frequent errors.  Unfortunately, since that time the scholastic consensus has largely moved on due to study of the Dead Sea Scrolls, with a new found respect for the integrity of the Septuagint/Vulgate, displacing the views that prevailed in the first half of the twentieth century and beyond.

3.  The Vulgate is reflected in the tradition.

A third key reason for using the Vulgate is that this is the version of Scripture that has become part of the Latin tradition. 

If we want to understand how the Church has traditionally interpreted a text, to adopt a 'hermaneutic of continuity', we need to look to the 'monuments of tradition'.  Hundreds, even thousands of chant settings of verses in Office antiphons and other liturgical texts attest to traditional interpretations of the texts. 

In addition, it is the Vulgate that the Western Fathers and Theologians of the Church have generally worked from: using the Neo-Vulgate instead, as the excellent Fr Hunwicke has pointed out, can render their commentaries meaningless.

So what's wrong with modern exegesis anyway?

For much of the last two centuries, Catholic scholars have been determined to adopt approaches to biblical exegesis developed by Protestant scholars.  At first, most were prevented from doing so due to the vigorous efforts of late nineteenth century and early twentieth century Popes concerned with the destructive effects of modernism.  All of that changed when the spirit of Vatican II was allowed to run unfettered.

Increasingly though, this consensus is being challenged.  Pope Benedict XVI's book Jesus of Nazareth Volume 1 contained an extended critique of the historico-critical method, and this was followed up by his Post-Synodal exhortation Verbum Domini.  And other academic theologians are picking up the gauntlet the Pope has thrown down.

Fr Aidan Nichols

Last last year Fr Aidan Nichols OP published a very useful book called Criticising the Critics Catholic Apologias for Today.

Criticising the Critics is a much needed attempt to put together a response to the most dangerous outright heresies, and some of the more problematic directions in the modern Church. One of the particular joys of Nichols' approach is that he doesn't limit himself to outright heresies, but also tackles some of the problematic directions that have led to the predominance of what one might call "Catholic-lite".

His chapter directed at academic exegetes usefully draws together some key points of the emerging critique of the historical-critical method. First Nichols points to the rationalism and historicism inherent in the method that have essentially rendered academic exegesis “existentially irrelevant”. Then he draws on recent critiques that seek a return to the idea that one must read scripture ‘not in splendid isolation but as a disciple in the company of saints’.

Certainly anyone who has suffered through academic Scriptural studies with its tedious preoccupation with questions of authorship, dating, the path of development of the text, and other philological questions will enjoy his citation of Bockmuehl’s view that the reductionism inherent in this method is akin to ‘restricting the study of a Stradavari to the alpine softwood industry of Trentino’.

This book is well-worth buying, and provides a helpful bibliography for those interested in further reading on this subject.

And on the net...

Some other recent articles and materials of interest available online of note include:

• a talk by Fr Marcus Holden on the problems with form criticism, and Pope Benedict's revolutionary agenda, given at the Australian Confraternity of Catholic Clergy July 2011 conference;
• Rev John Hunwicke on text criticism and Anglican humour, citing Fr Ronald Knox's parody on the identity of pseudo-Bunyan' (about half way through the talk), speaking at the Anglicanorum Coetibus Conference in Texas, July 2011 (and do read through the archives of Fr Hunwicke's Liturgical Notes blog for many useful gems);
• the recent New Theological Movement blog post on St Mary Magdalene (and many other excellent articles over there).

Why a particular focus on the psalms?

The psalms are probably the most read, said and sung book of Scripture: they form an important part of the Mass; are the backbone of the Divine Office; and many have been turned into popular hymns. 

Despite this, they are also, paradoxically, amongst the most poorly understood texts of Scripture.

Why have the psalms become so hard for us?

In part the problem is a matter of literary genre: poetry is never easy to understand at the best of times. 

In part because of the bowdlerization of the psalms that has occurred in the modern liturgy, which systematically edits out the 'hard' verses and even entire psalms from the Liturgy of the Hours and the Mass.

In the main though the problem is the psalms have suffered from the same affliction as the rest of Scripture as a result of the popularity of the historico-critical method of interpretation.

There are hundreds of contemporary books that purport to provide commentaries on the psalms. 

Some of these commentaries even claim to be Catholic. 

Yet few of them are in any real sense.

Even standard works such as the New Jerome Biblical Commentary, for example, as Scott Hahn has pointed out (Introduction to Michael Barber, Singing in the Reign The Psalms and the Liturgy of God's Kingdom, Emmaus Road Publishing: Stubenville, Ohio; 2001; pp19), fall into the trap condemned by the Fifth Ecumenical Council, of entirely omitting a Christological perspective on the psalms.

Pope Benedict XVI on the psalms

But some of the reasons why we should devote considerable attention to the psalms are nicely summarized by Pope Benedict XVI when at his General Audience of 22 June 2011, he spoke on the psalms as the prayerbook of the Bible:

"...we shall enter “the book of prayer” par excellence, the Book of Psalms. In the forthcoming catecheses we shall read and meditate on several of the most beautiful Psalms that are dearest to the Church’s tradition of prayer. Today I would like to introduce them by talking about the Book of Psalms as a whole.

The Psalter appears as a “formulary” of prayers, a collection of 150 Psalms which the Biblical Tradition offers the people of believers so that they become their and our prayer, our way of speaking and of relating to God. This Book expresses the entire human experience with its multiple facets and the whole range of sentiments that accompany human existence.

In the Psalms are expressed and interwoven with joy and suffering, the longing for God and the perception of our own unworthiness, happiness and the feeling of abandonment, trust in God and sorrowful loneliness, fullness of life and fear of death. The whole reality of the believer converges in these prayers. The People of Israel first and then the Church adopted them as a privileged mediation in relations with the one God and an appropriate response to God’s self revelation in history.

Since the Psalms are prayers they are expressions of the heart and of faith with which everyone can identify and in which that experience of special closeness to God — to which every human being is called — is communicated. Moreover the whole complexity of human life is distilled in the complexity of the different literary forms of the various Psalms: hymns, laments, individual entreaties and collective supplications, hymns of thanksgiving, penitential psalms, sapiential psalms and the other genres that are to be found in these poetic compositions.

Despite this multiplicity of expression, two great areas that sum up the prayer of the Psalter may be identified: supplication, connected to lamentation, and praise. These are two related dimensions that are almost inseparable since supplication is motivated by the certainty that God will respond, thus opening a person to praise and thanksgiving; and praise and thanksgiving stem from the experience of salvation received; this implies the need for help which the supplication expresses.

In his supplication the person praying bewails and describes his situation of anguish, danger or despair or, as in the penitential Psalms, he confesses his guilt, his sin, asking forgiveness. He discloses his needy state to the Lord, confident that he will be heard and this involves the recognition of God as good, as desirous of goodness and as one who “loves the living” (cf. Wis 11:26), ready to help, to save and to forgive. In this way, for example, the Psalmist in Psalm 31[30] prays: “In you, O Lord, do I seek refuge; let me never be put to shame... take me out of the net which is hidden for me, for you are my refuge” (vv. 2,5). In the lamentation, therefore, something like praise, which is foretold in the hope of divine intervention, can already emerge, and it becomes explicit when divine salvation becomes a reality.

Likewise in the Psalms of thanksgiving and praise, recalling the gift received or contemplating the greatness of God’s mercy, we also recognize our own smallness and the need to be saved which is at the root of supplication. In this way we confess to God our condition as creatures, inevitably marked by death, yet bearing a radical desire for life. The Psalmist therefore exclaims in Psalm 86 [85]: “I give thanks to you, O Lord my God, with my whole heart, and I will glorify your name for ever. For great is your steadfast love toward me; you have delivered my soul from the depths of Sheol” (vv. 12-13). In the prayer of the Psalms, supplication and praise are interwoven in this manner and fused in a single hymn that celebrates the eternal grace of the Lord who stoops down to our frailty.

It was precisely in order to permit the people of believers to join in this hymn that the Psalter was given to Israel and to the Church. Indeed the Psalms teach how to pray. In them, the word of God becomes a word of prayer — and they are the words of the inspired Psalmist — which also becomes the word of the person who prays the Psalms.

This is the beauty and the special characteristic of this Book of the Bible: the prayers it contains, unlike other prayers we find in Sacred Scripture, are not inserted in a narrative plot that specifies their meaning and role. The Psalms are given to the believer exactly as the text of prayers whose sole purpose is to become the prayer of the person who assimilates them and addresses them to God. Since they are a word of God, anyone who prays the Psalms speaks to God using the very words that God has given to us, addresses him with the words that he himself has given us. So it is that in praying the Psalms we learn to pray. They are a school of prayer.

Something similar happens when a child begins to speak, namely, he learns how to express his own feelings, emotions, and needs with words that do not belong to him innately but that he learns from his parents and from those who surround him. What the child wishes to express is his own experience, but his means of expression comes from others; and little by little he makes them his own, the words received from his parents become his words and through these words he also learns a way of thinking and feeling, he gains access to a whole world of concepts and in it develops and grows, and relates to reality, to people and to God. In the end his parents’ language has become his language, he speaks with words he has received from others but which have now become his own.

This is what happens with the prayer of the Psalms. They are given to us so that we may learn to address God, to communicate with him, to speak to him of ourselves with his words, to find a language for the encounter with God. And through those words, it will also be possible to know and to accept the criteria of his action, to draw closer to the mystery of his thoughts and ways (cf. Is 55:8-9), so as to grow constantly in faith and in love.

Just as our words are not only words but teach us a real and conceptual world, so too these prayers teach us the heart of God, for which reason not only can we speak to God but we can learn who God is and, in learning how to speak to him, we learn to be a human being, to be ourselves.

In this regard the title which the Jewish tradition has given to the Psalter is significant. It is called tehillîm, a Hebrew word which means “praise”, from the etymological root that we find in the expression “Alleluia”, that is, literally “praised be the Lord”. This book of prayers, therefore, although it is so multiform and complex with its different literary genres and its structure alternating between praise and supplication, is ultimately a book of praise which teaches us to give thanks, to celebrate the greatness of God’s gift, to recognize the beauty of his works and to glorify his holy Name. This is the most appropriate response to the Lord’s self manifestation and to the experience of his goodness.

By teaching us to pray, the Psalms teach us that even in desolation, even in sorrow, God’s presence endures, it is a source of wonder and of solace; we can weep, implore, intercede and complain, but in the awareness that we are walking toward the light, where praise can be definitive. As Psalm 36[35] teaches us: “with you is the fountain of life; in your light do we see light” (Ps 36[35]:10).
However, in addition to this general title of the book, the Jewish tradition has given many Psalms specific names, attributing most of them to King David. A figure of outstanding human and theological depth, David was a complex figure who went through the most varied fundamental experiences of life. When he was young he was a shepherd of his father’s flock, then passing through chequered and at times dramatic vicissitudes, he became King of Israel and pastor of the People of God. A man of peace, he fought many wars; unflagging and tenacious in his quest for God, he betrayed God’s love and this is characteristic: he always remained a seeker of God even though he sinned frequently and seriously. As a humble penitent he received the divine pardon, accepted the divine punishment and accepted a destiny marked by suffering. Thus David with all his weaknesses was a king “after the heart of God” (cf. 1 Sam 13:14), that is, a passionate man of prayer, a man who knew what it meant to implore and to praise. The connection of the Psalms with this outstanding King of Israel is therefore important because he is a messianic figure, an Annointed One of the Lord, in whom, in a certain way, the mystery of Christ is foreshadowed.

Equally important and meaningful are the manner and frequency with which the words of the Psalms are taken up in the New Testament, assuming and accentuating the prophetic value suggested by the connection of the Psalter with the messianic figure of David. In the Lord Jesus, who in his earthly life prayed with the Psalms, they were definitively fulfilled and revealed their fullest and most profound meaning.

The prayers of the Psalter with which we speak to God, speak to us of him, speak to us of the Son, an image of the invisible God (Col 1:15), which fully reveals to us the Father’s Face. Christians, therefore, in praying the Psalms pray to the Father in Christ and with Christ, assuming those hymns in a new perspective which has in the paschal mystery the ultimate key to its interpretation. The horizon of the person praying thus opens to unexpected realities, every Psalm acquires a new light in Christ and the Psalter can shine out in its full infinite richness.

Dear brothers and sisters, let us therefore take this holy book in our hands, let us allow God to teach us to turn to him, let us make the Psalter a guide which helps and accompanies us daily on the path of prayer. And let us too ask, as did Jesus’ disciples, “Lord, teach us to pray” (Lk 11:1), opening our hearts to receive the Teacher’s prayer, in which all prayers are brought to completion. Thus, made sons in the Son, we shall be able to speak to God calling him “Our Father”. Many thanks."

Towards a New Exegetical Movement?

Those who love the faith are constantly presented with reminders of the destructive effects of contemporary biblical exegesis, and particularly the historico-critical method, on what Catholics believe.  

As Pope Benedict XVI's post-synodal Apostolic Exhortation Verbum Domini points out, instead of supporting Catholics attempts to deepen their faith as they read Scripture, much contemporary exegesis, infected by modernism and rationalism, serves rather to undermine it.  Instead of being the soul of theology, most contemporary exegesis is completely irrelevant to the concerns of modern theology and apologetics.

As well as sharing original work, this blog aims to highlight the efforts of those who have rejected the current fascination with modernist historico-critical methods, and are attempting to counter the artificial separations that have arisen between exegesis and theology; between exegesis and prayer; and between exegesis and the Tradition of the Church.

Its aim is to help promote the continuity of tradition, while at the same time addressing modern concerns.  Its aim is not to return to some supposed golden age of the past, but to work towards something new, something on a sounder foundation.

I was tempted to call this blog the New Exegetical Movement, to parallel the excellent 'New Liturgical Movement' and 'New Theological Movement' blogs that aim to recover tradition and orthodoxy.   This blog will, however, be a rather more modest affair I suspect than those group blogs, so I've decided instead on an allusion to one of my favourite psalms, since the psalms are my current preoccupation, and will thus feature heavily here!

At the moment, the blog mainly consists of what I hope my fellow students of Scripture (and shouldn't that be all catholics?!) will find to be useful links.  But it will, I hope, quickly grow...

Still looking for a Lenten penance? How about saying the penitential psalms?**

The Penitential Psalms were traditionally prayed communally each day during Lent - indeed, Pope Innocent III (1198-1216) ordered them to be prayed at this time.

Accordingly, the following series of posts is intended to help those following this tradition to penetrate the meaning of this set of psalms more deeply.

What are the penitential psalms?

The listing of the penitential psalms - Psalm 6, Psalm 31 (32), 37 (38), 50 (51), 101 (102), 129 (130) and 142 (143) - was firmed up by Cassiodorus, a sixth century contemporary of St Benedict.

You can find them with the antiphon normally used in most missals, in the Monastic Diurnal, or on the web here.

Ideally one says them all every day - but there are various alternative approaches one could take, such as one a day, or just saying them on Fridays. Or you could use them as a basis for lectio divina, focusing on one of the seven psalms each week.

And click here for the first set of notes, on Psalm 6.

**This a revised version of a post from Australia Incognita Blog.

Psalms of Holy Week Tenebrae: Masterpost

The Divine Office during the Sacred Triduum, which is identical in the (modern) Benedictine and Roman Rites, is quite differently structured to that of the rest of the year.  And the high point of those three days is surely the Office of Tenebrae, Matins and Lauds, sung in the darkness.

The psalms of Tenebrae very much trace the Church's take on the events of the Triduum, and so make a great source of Lenten meditation.  And of course, if you are going to in or attend this office, useful to get a flavour of the psalms involved by way of preparation.

The Office of Tenebrae is structured into three Nocturns of three psalms each (Matins), followed by (in the post-1911 version of the hour) five psalms (one of which is a canticle, or psalm from outside the book of psalms) for Lauds.  In addition each of the Nocturns has three readings and a responsory (not covered here), and the Benedictus is sung with an antiphon at Lauds.  The Office ends with the antiphon Christus factus est pro nobis, with an additional phrase being added each night.

This series of posts on that Office was originally presented for Lent 2013.  The first post was an Introduction to the series.  An asterix indicates a psalm that is repeated on one or more occasions (only one post per psalm has been provided on these).

Maundy Thursday 

(Matins)

Psalm 68
Psalm 69
Psalm 70

Psalm 71
Psalm 72
Psalm 73

Psalm 74
Psalm 75*
Psalm 76

(Lauds)

Psalm 50*
Psalm 89
Psalm 35
Canticle: Exodus 15
Psalm 146

Good Friday

Psalm 2
Psalm 21
Psalm 26*

Psalm 37
Psalm 39
Psalm 53*

Psalm 58
Psalm 87
Psalm 93

Psalm 50*
Psalm 142
Psalm 84
Canticle of Habaccuc
Psalm 147

Holy Saturday

Psalm 4
Psalm 14
Psalm 15

Psalm 23
Psalm 26*
Psalm 29

Psalm 53*
Psalm 75*
Psalm 87*

Psalm 50*
Psalm 91
Psalm 63
Canticle: Isaiah 38
Psalm 150


In the older version of Tenebrae, now restored in some places, the psalms of Lauds were as follows:

Psalm 50
Thurs: Ps 89; Fri: Ps 142; Sat: Ps 42
Psalm 62
Psalm 66
OT canticle -  Thurs: Ex 15; Fri: Hab 3; Sat: Is 38
Ps 148-150