“Listen…and incline the ear of your heart.” - The Rule of St. Benedict
“You will indeed listen, but never understand,
and you will indeed look, but never perceive.
For this people’s heart has grown dull,
and their ears are hard of hearing,
and they have shut their eyes;
so that they might not look with their eyes,
and listen with their ears,
and understand with their heart and turn—
and I would heal them.” - Matthew 13:14-15, Isaiah 6:9-10
The news of the Israel-Hamas War continues to be devastating. Grief, rage, and terror are natural reactions to the catastrophic loss of life and an ongoing, worsening humanitarian crisis. Many of us understandably feel an urge to take a stand and to take action.
I have been struggling with how to respond–what to do and what to say. As I read the news, the opinion pieces, the social media posts, as I see the videos and images, and as I attempt to sort through what is real and what is fabricated, my initial instinct is to answer questions: Who do I agree with and who do I disagree with? Which viewpoint is right and which is wrong? What is moral, and what is immoral? As I attempt to comprehend centuries of history and culture that is not my own, I feel the temptation to sit in the judge’s seat, taking account of the evidence and issuing my verdict. Who should be sentenced to death? Who should receive mercy? Who will be on “the right side” of history?
Resisting that initial impulse and turning to my contemplative practice hasn’t been easy or comfortable. I hear Martha calling out urgently, “Lord, don’t you care that my sister has left me to do the work by myself? Tell her to help me!” What about those who do not have the privilege of taking a contemplative pause? I have to trust that the fruits of my contemplative practice will be just action. If I have the benefit of pausing before acting, I am responsible for doing so.
The practice that has resonated most for me this week is the practice of “Lectio Divina.” Lectio Divina is Latin for “divine reading,” an ancient practice instituted by St. Benedict in his rule for monastics in the sixth century. Jean Leclerq tells us that in Benedict’s day, monks always read Scripture out loud, even when reading privately, so they could learn the Bible “by heart.” Benedict’s very first instruction to his monks is to “listen carefully” using the “ear of your heart.” He invites the monks to listen to his Rule and, more importantly, to attend to Scripture in this way:
And with our eyes open to the divine light, let us with astonished ears listen to the admonition of God’s voice daily crying out and saying: “Today if ye will hear His voice, harden not your hearts.”
Our Community reads Scripture every day using this practice. It has completely transformed my relationship with the Bible. That transformation has widened over the years to affect how I read everything, from newspapers to books to social media posts. Most importantly, it has changed my relationship with God, which has taught me how I am called to live in all other relationships.
The first time I read the Bible as an adult (after taking a decade away from having anything to do with the church and its teachings), a group of friends decided to try and read it straight through in 90 days. This reading method challenged my sense of discipline but ultimately did nothing to improve my conscious contact with God. Much of the text was alienating, dull, or downright disturbing. As I crammed the readings into my daily commute, I found that it became a chore to accomplish rather than a spiritual journey. (I fell so far behind that to finish by day 90, I had to read Revelation in two days. I do not recommend this!)
Although I technically completed the task, it might have done more harm than good. I felt that I knew less about God than when I had started. My assumptions about God as the source of all love, mercy, and compassion were challenged. I wasn’t especially keen to return to the Bible–in fact, I was afraid it might ruin my newfound faith!
I decided I needed lots of help with interpretation. And it was easy to find. Theologians, historians, priests, literary scholars, and monastics had been wrestling with these texts for centuries, like Jacob wrestling with the angel and demanding his blessing. Understanding the historical and cultural context of each part of the Bible revealed some of its genius to me–and yes, sometimes its blessing. I was frequently confronted with how little I knew and how, even if I obtained a Ph.D. in Biblical interpretation, there would always be much I would never understand.
More than that, some understanding could not be arrived at intellectually. There was a different form of knowing that I longed for and couldn’t articulate. Historical and cultural context might be a part of building relationships, but a different kind of knowing is available only to our hearts. What I wanted was a relationship with God.
In Lectio Divina, reading Scripture is a heart-opening and heart-breaking exercise. In other words, it is a journey into relationship. I initially read the Bible like a judge collecting evidence for a trial to determine whether God was worthy of my worship. With Lectio Divina, I started reading the Bible in order to form a relationship with God. Relationships require listening, humility, and vulnerability. Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening. What does God want to communicate to my heart with this text? What does love sound like in this reading? Once I have heard, how does my heart respond?
Instead of debating what moral lesson I should take away from the text, I spoke to God about what I heard and what I felt. Whatever my heart experienced in the reading–fear, joy, doubt, hope–I shared that honestly with God. After this conversation, I sometimes would feel called to take a particular action. Other times, I did not arrive at a specific conclusion. But the relationship has grown, and I believe that it is in that relationship that I will find the strength and compassion to act in the world.
When reading today's news, gaining as much intellectual understanding of a situation as possible is still vital to me. I continue to take in evidence and facts and avoid misleading and sensationalized stories. Yet just as I could not grasp the Bible in 90 days of cramming, I will not have a complete handle on a geopolitical conflict overnight. I can continue to learn and grow in understanding without submitting to the pressure of delivering a verdict. I can be willing to listen with a humble heart, to sit in the discomfort of unknowing, and to ask what it means to seek relationship and solidarity amidst great suffering. What does love look like at this moment?
Many people are listening with the ears of their hearts, and their hearts have stirred them to take action. I will look to the broken-hearted, try to walk alongside them and listen before I act.
If you want to practice lectio divina with the Community of the Incarnation, you can join us this Advent for a three-week practice. You can also practice on your own using our instructions for Lectio Divina, found here.
Kristin Vieira Coleman is a co-founder and Program Director of the Center for Spiritual Imagination and a member of its new monastic community, the Community of the Incarnation. Kris has been an active lay minister for over a decade, leading small groups and teaching contemplation, 12-step spirituality, and Scripture classes. She lives in Brooklyn, NY, with her husband Jeremy and their cat Benedict.