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Monthly Archives: January 2015

A Monastic Contribution: Mediation, Contemplation, and the ‘Lectio Divina’

19 Monday Jan 2015

Posted by ryan5551 in Contemplation, Lectio Divina

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Contemplation, Introspection, Lectio Divina, Meditation, Origen, Rule of St Benedict

After receiving questions on the relationship between contemplation and meditation (and other spiritual practices), I thought I would write a short post to clarify the relationship. Ultimately, I will use the example of the monastic practice of lectio divina in order to describe the similarities and differences. The example will also serve as a holistic lens by which to understand the method or practice of contemplation.

While contemplation is related to and overlaps with other spiritual practices such as meditation and introspection, there is a firm distinction. For example, meditation seeks to saturate one’s mind with God’s Word and ruminate those words within. Introspection specifically seeks to understand the self (especially in terms of exposing sin). I would understand contemplation as the larger practice that organically integrates both elements as it actively seeks to understand and appraise the person’s union with God through Christ Jesus. Contemplation does not only seek reflective understanding of sin (introspection) or the text (meditation); it also seeks personal, intellectual, and practical integration of the gospel by mind-saturated, comprehensive, and cohesive rumination. Contemplation includes meditation and introspection, but not necessarily the other way around.

To use the example from last week’s post on Psalm 145: meditation is what we do when we absorb and apply God’s words through David, and contemplation is what David was doing as he ruminated on the unsearchable and mysterious greatness of God while also applying this truth to the world around him. Meditation’s content or object is Scripture, while contemplation’s object is God himself, especially as he is understood through the lens of the gospel. While they overlap in many ways, contemplation can be seen as the larger category with meditation as part. This difference was also implicit in Calvin’s heretofore seen distinction between meditation (of Scripture) and contemplation (of the acts of God, i.e., the gospel).

While one might disagree with my distinctions here, they go back to the earlier church. One can see a similar distinction within the lectio divina, an expression of the earlier Rule of St. Benedict.[1] The lectio divina involves a synthesis of the love of letters (of Scripture) and the desire for God. It sought to understand Scripture, not so much as a text to be studied, but as the living Word with Christ as the center. Founded upon the tradition set forth by Origen, Benedict, and Gregory I, the process included up to four steps: read, meditate, pray, and contemplate. The last stage was often seen as the final end or purpose of the whole practice, that is, to see and savor the Lord (cf. Guigo II).

Read, meditate, pray, contemplate. The first stage consists of a prepared stillness wherein one asks for the Spirit to come alongside as he/she thoughtfully reads the passage (cf. Ps 46:10; 1 Cor 2:9-10). The second stage involves, after several readings, a deep and multi-perspectival pondering of the text as it relates to the gospel in Christ (cf. Ps 19; 119). The third stage prays such a meditation to God as the reader asks to live out the meaning of the passage. The fourth stage involves the total experience and appreciation of the person in communion with God.

While there may have been some less helpful forms of the lectio divina, the ancient practice helpfully clarifies the purpose and progression of reading Scripture. One must take a bite (lectio), chew (meditatio), savor the essence (oratio), and then digest and absorb and thereby imitate (contemplatio). The monastic reading was thus meditative and reflective, as the person’s goal was to experience the divine realities in Scripture (hence the term from Benedict and others, “divine readings”).[2] In this sense, I would include meditation and introspection under the larger umbrella of this reading unto contemplation.

A concise example would help to express the intent of the lectio divina. Take, say, John 6:35: “Jesus said to them, ‘I am the bread of life; whoever comes to me shall not hunger, and whoever believes in me shall never thirst.’” A more modern analytical reading would approach the text descriptively (e.g., what Jesus meant by “bread,” how his audience would interpret this kind of statement, the literary context of John’s organization, authorial intention, etc.), which accounts for why modern commentaries are so darn dry and boring. A lectio divina reading would ask other questions. After reading the passage aloud in context several times, the person would ruminate (lit.: masticate) on the passage, perceiving connections between Jesus words here and Israel’s wilderness wanderings, for example. Using words from the passage as a sort of concordance hook for the rest of Scripture, the person would continue to pray the Scripture for the world and their own life in God. In other words, they would not so much intellectually dissect the meaning of “Bread of life” but rather ingest, chew, and digest Jesus Christ as the bread. They wanted to know Scripture, certainly; but they wanted this knowledge to intersect and change their hearts.

(Notice, I am not advocating the mutual exclusion of the analytical and monastic methods.)

Summarizing the basic difference between this monastic method and scholastic theology (more akin to analytic methods), Jean Leclercq notes, “Rather than speculative insights [in scholastic theology], it gives them a certain appreciation, of savoring and clinging to the truth and, what is everything, the love of God” (4; cf. 72-73). Benedict, for example, wanted his monks to experience the gospel in their “divine reading;” the best way to do so, he believed, was by reading Scripture as speaking (not only to the ancient context but also) to them. As Leclercq says again, “Theology, spirituality, cultural history: these three realities were not separated in the real life of the monks, and they can never be dissociated” (6; cf. 28-34). It is no wonder that Benedict preferred the pastoral and personal writings of Origen and Gregory I over other more intellectual and esoteric writings. It is also no wonder that the monks—along with many other Christians in that day—interpreted Scripture through the fourfold witness (Scripture as literal, allegorical, tropological, and anagogical), but this is another topic for another time.

In total, reading Scripture includes and encompasses the holistic human capacity. This is in fact part of the reason that the ancient always sounded out the words while reading, weighing all words and releasing their full flavor. Without the lectio divina, I fear, one may easily fail to read Scripture in light of its intent and goal: the personal and reflective knowledge of Jesus Christ as your Lord. Without the lectio, or at least the contemplative and personal aspects of it, one simply reads to understand the meaning of Scripture and not necessarily its direct intent for you. Reading Scripture is—and ought to be—inescapably bound with personal meditation and gospel contemplation.

[1]The Rule of St. Benedict: In Latin and English with Notes, ed. Timothy Fry (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical, 1981), chapter 48 (pgs. 249-252).

[2]See Jean Leclercq, The Love of Learning and the Desire for God: A Study of Monastic Culture, trans. Catharine Misrahi (New York: Fordham University Press, 1982), 16-22; D. Rees, Consider Your Call (London: SPCK, 1978), 261-273; D. Gorce, La Lectio Divina (Paris: Picard, 1925).

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Exciting Development: Amandus Polanus’s “A System of Christian Theology” (10 vols.) will be published in English

13 Tuesday Jan 2015

Posted by ryan5551 in Uncategorized

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A System of Christian Theology (10 vols.)

One of my favorite Reformed theologians is Amandus Polanus. He is well-known for his logical distinctions and his ability to summarize and systematize the Reformed tradition before him. I was excited to hear that his work, the Syntagma, is being published (by download only).

The Syntagma has influenced the giants of the Reformed tradition, like John Owen, Charles Hodge, and B. B. Warfield, and was consistently relied upon by such theologians as Herman Bavinck and Karl Barth. In his Post-Reformation Reformed Dogmatics, Richard A. Muller cites and refers to Polanus and the Syntagma nearly 600 times to illustrate classic Reformed orthodoxy. An invaluable resource for scholars, pastors, students, and interested lay-people, the Syntagma is the chief representative of Reformed orthodoxy in the generation following the Reformation, coming at last in English as A System of Christian Theology.

And…

Lexham Press is pleased to announce the first ever English translation of Amandus Polanus’Syntagma Theologiae Christianae, or, A System of Christian Theology. Using the Pre-Pub Process for this project allows us to invest in translating Syntagma Theologiae Christianae, in proportion to community demand. With Pre-Pub, books that have hitherto only been available to specialists will soon be accessible to everyone. As the scope of the project becomes clearer (for example, once we announce the translator and begin production), the price may increase. That means users who pre-order right away will get the best price.

I’d encourage you to buy it. It is a must-own for those who love Reformed theology.

See the series on the Logos website here.

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Contemplating the Acts of God: Psalm 145

12 Monday Jan 2015

Posted by ryan5551 in Contemplation

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Calvin, Contemplation, David, Martha, Mary, Psalms

In the previous post, I suggested that the importance of contemplation may be discerned in the story of Mary and Martha. Among other things, like Mary, we ought to be at the feet of Jesus absorbing his word.

The importance of contemplation may also be discerned in the psalms. The psalms of course include many dimensions of human speech and activity, including hymns of praise, adoration, lament, supplication, thanksgiving, etc. It makes sense that contemplation would also find expression in the psalms. God, the central subject of the psalms, is a mighty and mysterious God. As he claims through the psalmist, “Be still, and know that I am God” (Ps 46:10). The psalmist thus often seeks a quiet and contemplative disposition to know the Lord (Ps 39:2), oftentimes expressing itself as a composed submissive posture before God in which the believer acquiesces to the promises of God (62:1ff.; cf. Eccl 3:7; Isa 30:15). As David likewise reflects, “One thing I asked of the Lord . . . to behold the beauty of the Lord” (Ps 27:4).

This particular post will focus on David’s contemplative song of praise in Psalm 145. I am writing this to show the existence and necessity of contemplation as I have defined it in the previous posts. Contemplation is gospel-centered thinking that seeks to understand and appraise the person’s union with God in Christ. As David further displays in his song, contemplation may also involve a close reflection of God’s works or acts (e.g., creation and governance).

He reflects (vv. 1-7):

1 I will extol you, my God and King,

and bless your name forever and ever.

2 Every day I will bless you

and praise your name forever and ever.

3 Great is the Lord, and greatly to be praised,

and his greatness is unsearchable.

4 One generation shall commend your works to another,

and shall declare your mighty acts.

5 On the glorious splendor of your majesty,

and on your wondrous works, I will meditate.

6 They shall speak of the might of your awesome deeds,

and I will declare your greatness.

7 They shall pour forth the fame of your abundant goodness

and shall sing aloud of your righteousness.

The psalmist’s words clearly communicate that, while God’s greatness is unsearchable, and while he is great beyond searching, one can reflect upon something that is visible and more concrete, that is, the manifest works or acts of God through the splendor of his workmanship. As David reflects, he wants to “meditate” on God’s wondrous works to declare his greatness.  David contemplates the beauty and majesty of God through his creation.

Calvin, among many other examples, also sensed the necessity of contemplating God in his works.  As he reflects in these verses, we are “called to a knowledge of God:” not one that is “content with empty speculation” or “flits in the brain,” but rather one that “takes root in the heart” (Institutes, 1:5.9). What is the way or manner of this more profound and impactful knowledge? As the psalmist suggests, Calvin reflects, it is “not for us to attempt with bold curiosity to penetrate to the investigation of his essence, which we ought more to adore than meticulously to search out, but for us to contemplate him in his works whereby he renders himself near and familiar to us, and in some manner communicates himself” (Ibid.; cf. his commentary on Psalms, 3:271-284).

In other words, we ought to adore God in his incomprehensible essence, but also we ought to contemplate him in his works (thus again suggesting that contemplation is content based, as I argued before). This is why after David acknowledges God’s greatness (Ps 145:3), he contemplates God in his works (vv. 5-6; cf. Ps 40:5). This is also why, among other things, Paul avers that God is not far from each of us, for he created and sustains our very being (Acts 17:27-28). It is no wonder that writers of Scripture often find analogy in creation of the sovereignty, beauty, and goodness of the Lord. One cannot gaze at the sublimity of the Grand Canyon or ponder the intricacies of the quark without the acknowledgement of God, however suppressed it may be.

Returning to the psalms text, David continues to contemplate God’s works through the previous revelation of his word: “The Lord is gracious and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love. The Lord is good to all, and his mercy is over all that he has made” (vv. 8-9; cf. Exod 34:6). David’s thoughts seamlessly travel from God’s revelation in creation to his Scripture, from his works to his words. His meditation’s purpose is to know and love God more, to perceive his works as a reflection of his majesty (v. 10) and as evidence of his power and sovereignty over the nations (vv. 11-13).

His majesty and power are no more visible than in his benevolent care of all peoples (vv. 14-21). God upholds those who are falling. He provides all creatures with food and every desire in each season. He is righteous and kind. He is a God who is present and listening. God preserves his people.

In short, David’s song of praise is a contemplation and application of the fact that all things belong to the Lord. He is, in effect, applying the truth that “my God is the Lord” to all areas of life. While the two were separated across history, I’m sure David would enthusiastically approve of Kuyper’s often quoted remark: “There is not a square inch in the whole domain of our human existence over which Christ, who is Sovereign over all, does not cry, Mine!”

Contemplation of God’s works is central to knowing God. “It is also fitting, therefore,” as Calvin concludes, “for us to pursue this particular search for God [in contemplation], which may so hold our mental powers suspended in wonderment as at the same time to stir us deeply” (1:5.9). Contemplation of God’s works leads to our constant awe and thanksgiving. (How much more Calvin’s words apply to contemplation of God’s acts through Christ Jesus.)

Herein again lies the importance of contemplation. It is, among other things, the process by which the mind understands, connects, and applies gospel truth to all areas of life—whether emotions, thought patterns, and even one’s awareness of existence itself. Contemplation is central to knowing and loving the gospel.

In the next post I will further differentiate contemplation from other related concepts (e.g., meditation). Thanks for reading.

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Becoming a Mary of Christ: The Importance of Contemplation

05 Monday Jan 2015

Posted by ryan5551 in Contemplation

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Contemplation, Luke, Martha, Mary

In the last post I defined contemplation as the intellectual and ruminating aspect of our communion with Christ. I said that contemplation is a gospel-centered (and thus content-based) cognition of the mind that seeks to understand and appraise the person’s union with God in Christ. With this general definition in mind, I will now briefly demonstrate why contemplation is important to the Christian life through the story of Mary and Martha (Luke 10:38-42; cf. John 12:1-8):

Now as they went on their way, Jesus entered a village. And a woman named Martha welcomed him into her house. And she had a sister called Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet and listened to his teaching [lit., “his word”]. But Martha was distracted with much serving. And she went up to him and said, “Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me to serve alone? Tell her then to help me.” But the Lord answered her, ‘Martha, Martha, you are anxious and troubled about many things, but one thing is necessary. Mary has chosen the good portion, which will not be taken away from her.’ (ESV)

In writing a short post, of course, I am not going to deal with all the textual and literary issues here (for a good discussion see Marshall’s commentary, 450-454); rather I want to focus on what this passage says about contemplation. Now, the passage certainly does not intend to prioritize the ‘contemplatives’ (e.g., Mary) over the ‘servants’ (e.g., Martha), as Origen supposes. It does, however, teach us something about seeing and savoring Jesus, actions that are at the forefront of contemplation. As Marshall aptly notes, Luke understood his recorded story in a “spiritual” sense, and thus its historical occasion has practical implications (450).

The contrast between Martha and Mary should already be apparent. While Martha strives to be hospitable to her guest, Mary would rather listen to Jesus’ “word” (v. 39), which is Luke’s technical term for the gospel itself. Mary wants to know and love the Lord. She is “taking in” Jesus, so to speak. After Martha complains, Jesus lightly rebukes her and affirms Mary’s choice of the “best portion,” that is, the right meal that is the word of God (cf. Luke 4:4; Deut 8:3). I like how Robert Stein highlights the contrast: “There is a need to focus on what is most important, for although serving is good, sitting at Jesus’ feet is best” (Luke, 321). Jesus here reflects what Paul later summarizes as “setting your minds on things that are above” (Col 3:2). To hear and appropriate the gospel is key.

The story thus reflects the importance of contemplation. At the risk of sounding like a cliché sermon, we too often become ‘Marthas’ as we fail to perceive and give notice to the creator, sustainer, and redeemer of all things. We often fail in our theologies as we focus on our own framing of Scripture while ignoring its framing of us. We likewise cause harm in our commentaries as we seek merely to find the ‘objective’ meaning of the Bible, forgetting that this very meaning is directed to us in Christ. We also overlook the truth in our lives as we “eat, drink, and be merry” (Luke 12:19); but we all the while fail to recognize that God is the originator and upholder of all good things, and his redemption secures all enjoyment therein. It is easy to focus on the externals of life; easy to believe that our limited perception is ultimate reality itself.

Contemplation keeps the gospel foremost. It keeps us sane.

I hope an analogy will suffice to stress more concretely the importance of contemplation. It will also serve as a conclusion. Before I was married to my lovely wife, Laura, I was once told to remember to boast about her from time to time (tastefully, of course). While it may seem mundane and even melodramatic, it works. If I speak highly of my wife’s positive qualities, if I note her treasure to others, I will more cogently perceive her beauty myself. I am sure that the same applies to our perception of God. The more we “boast” about him—in word and thought (i.e., contemplation)—the more we see the greatness of his majesty. Herein lays the importance of contemplation. The more we think God, the more we sense him; the more we see him, the more we treasure him; and the more we treasure him, the more we, by his grace, live out the gospel with our hearts, souls, and minds.

“You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind” (Matt 22:37). Contemplation is not the whole gospel, but it is certainly a big part of it. It is the intellectual ruminating and practical appraising of who God is and why it matters for us. Therefore, in large part, contemplation involves thinking both God and ourselves and correlating the two through the gospel. (As a side note, if I had time, I would interact with Calvin’s famous opening epistemological statement in this context. To be continued another time. . . .)

As Martha and Mary teach us, we ought to be livers of life and servers of people; but also, and more fundamentally, we ought to become partakers of the gospel, sitting quietly and humbly at the feet of Jesus. Contemplation, therefore, is one manner in which we become ‘Marys’ of Christ.

Go to His feet.

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