Lectio Divina: The Medieval Experience of Reading (Cistercian Studies Series)

Cistercian Studies Series #238

by Duncan Robertson

During the Middle Ages the act of reading was experienced intensively in the monastic exercise of lectio divina 'the prayerful scrutiny of passages of Scripture, savored in meditation, memorized, recited, and rediscovered in the reader's own religious life. The rich literary tradition that arose from this culture includes theoretical writings from the Conferences of John Cassian (fifth century) through the twelfth-century treatises of Hugh of St. Victor and the Carthusian Guigo II; it also includes compilations, literary meditations, and scriptural commentary, notably on the Song of Songs. This study brings medievalist research together with modern theoretical reflections on the act of reading in a consolidation of historical scholarship, spirituality, and literary criticism.

Genres: Spirituality, Medieval, Biblical Studies

272 pages, Paperback

First published November 30, 2011

Reviews

[Brian Dant · Rating 4 out of 5]

In Lectio Divina: The Medieval Experience of Reading, Duncan Robertson engages in a historical survey from Origen (2nd/3rd century) to Guigo II (12th century), in which he examines a broad set of concepts relating to lectio divina. This includes asceticism, hermeneutics, the nature of spiritual experience, exegesis, communal reading, and the relationship between reading, meditation, writing, and prayer. This book is not merely historical, though; instead, it embraces the spirit of ressourcement, in which Robertson attempts to use historical sources to bring insight to our current setting. His motivation is articulated primarily in the first and last chapters, where he partially affirms the reader-response school of the 1980s and 90s (30–31), before lamenting that it “failed to reach the conception of reading toward which... it ideally tended: spiritual freedom” (233). Robertson affirms this school in an attempt to parlay its theory into that of the monastic tradition. Robertson is hopeful that the monastic tradition can accomplish what recent literary theory has failed to do: engender “interpretive confidence, licensed by a spiritual rather than political consciousness of community; an energy impelling the reader to venture beyond the inert littera … into a fullness of active, affective, intellectual, and creative literary participation” (233).

To accomplish his task, Robertson’s first chapter affirms recent scholarly contributions relating to lectio divina, then reviews the reader-response school, before disparaging other contemporary literary theory. Henri de Lubac (1896–1991) made a primary contribution to our understanding of the metaphysical foundation of spiritual interpretation that shaped much of the lectio divina tradition. He did so amidst tumultuous doctrinal battles, a 10-year ecclesial ban, and public battles against anti-Semitism (11–23). Like de Lubac, Jean Leclerq (1911–1993) spent much of his time in ressourcement projects, but contributed in a different way by focusing on monastic theology, communal reading, meditative practices, and literary theory (4–11). Robertson then cautiously affirms Stanley Fish’s reader-response theory, which is one of several “areas of concordance” between medieval and modern theories of reading that “invite further attention” (31). Finally, Derrida and others receive a critique from Robertson, due to their “attack on authorial presence and the resolve to complicate reader accessibility” (35–37).

The second chapter begins to explore the primary sources, extracting key themes related to patristic-era and monastic Bible reading. These themes include: the self-interpreting nature of the Scriptures (39); the Spirit’s ongoing, abiding presence in Scripture (38); the reader’s meticulous care for each word of Scripture (38); and, most importantly, the letter-spirit distinction that underpins all reading. The letter-spirit distinction is born out of the early Christian community’s desire to move beyond “Jewish textualism” (39), seeking instead, with Paul, for a “dimension of transcendence” (40). This dimension would become a foundation for later spiritual interpretation, though authors differ on their appropriation of it. Origen’s contribution comes via his strong focus on the “hidden things” of the text, his mapping of the spiritual levels in the text to his tripartite anthropology (body, soul, spirit), and his close link between heaven and earth (43–50). Augustine contributed his influential sign-thing theory (52), the idea that one should learn the easy parts of Scripture first (56), and a belief that charity is the purpose of all interpretation (50–57). Finally, Saint Gregory the Great, the individualist preacher, contributed the theory of the Spirit as pedagogue, the idea of the text as a deep vineyard in which one can endlessly explore, and the claim that the text’s capacity changes with the reader to accommodate her current spiritual level (57–71).

In Chapter 3, Reading and Meditation, Robertson exposits classical Greek pedagogical foundations, namely a strong focus on reading, memorization, and writing as a means for social development of the human person. The classical understanding of these concepts would come to affect the later monastic tradition as the ideas passed through Quintilian to Jerome (73–76). John Cassian, Jerome’s contemporary, though not necessarily influenced by the same sources, made a primary and lasting contribution to lectio divina through a study of monastic wisdom in the east. From this study, Cassian created a framework of reading, meditation, and continual repetition that enables the Biblical text to serve as the ascetic foundation for spiritual progress. It is a framework with a strong focus on experience (experientia) that cultivates affect (affectus), allowing the reader to re-author the text for himself as he moves toward wordless prayer and contemplation of God (81–88). Robertson then shows that the principle themes of Cassian and Jerome made their way into the later monastic rules; e.g., Pachomius, the Asceticon of Basil, Augustine’s rule, and most influentially in the Rule of St. Benedict. These rules expanded on the principle ideas of Cassian and Jerome, while formalizing them to fit the monastic community (88–102).

Chapters four and five study several sources, considering the literary works that flowed from the principles and practice of lectio divina. For example, Isidore of Seville (ca. 560–636) and Smaragdus (ca. ~816) both created texts that exemplify earlier reading, meditative, and prayerful principles, but represented a new genre in the history of lectio divina (112–113). These texts are compilations of patristic sayings and passages of Scripture, meant for simple meditation and prayer. The simplification resulted in modification of earlier themes, moving toward a greater focus on action (115), a disparaging of the intellect (119), and a general “dumbing down”—a step away from scholarship (120). Robertson then covers the liturgy and the daily offices, which appropriate the themes of lectio divina while dealing with the delicate balance between personal and communal worship (120–124). Chapter 5, The Extension of Meditation, highlights another form of text, birthed via the eleventh-century spiritual revival that brought a renewed focus on subjectivity. This resulted in an extended form of meditatio, seen in the works of John of Fécamp and Saint Anselm. These works stand out for the way in which they appropriate meditatio and oratio amidst deeper theological reflection (133–155).

Robertson then moves back to examining exegetical questions by probing the usage of the Song of Songs in the works of Origen, Gregory the Great, and Bernard of Clairvaux. These three authors, unsurprisingly, overlap in many ways (seen earlier in chapter two), primarily in their search for something deeper, something spiritual—but each holds his own distinctives. Origen’s close link between heaven and earth, along with his focus on spiritual realities, guided him to a quick allegorizing of the breast, heart, and neck referenced in the Song (162–163). Gregory is contrasted with Origen because he did not see the difficulties of the text as a stumbling block prohibiting spiritual progress (inconventia), but rather as a mere help to move from known to unknown (170–175). Bernard relied on Origen, but is ultimately closer to Gregory, due to his strong focus on love (affectus). The core subject, for Bernard, is love, and he highlights lack of affection as the primary issue that disrupts spiritual discernment (183–184).

The final two chapters serve Robertson’s project by first demonstrating two authors that codify the tradition, and then restating his hope and motivation in this project of ressourcement. The twelfth-century monk, Guigo II, codified the tradition of lectio divina (224) by stating the importance of intent focus in reading (intentio) (225); deeply felt experience derived from reading (226); an abhorrence of superficiality and arrogance (229); and reading for self-transcendence (230). Hugh’s perspective was more academic, in which lectio (the reading step) refers more toward “academic studies” (214), meditatio becomes more rationally-oriented (217), and a new variation on the traditional four steps emerges (adding operatio after oratio) (217). In Guigo and Hugh’s codified version of the tradition, we see what this “monastic pedagogy” has to do with “reading in the modern world” (231). It is Robertson’s belief that “the study of medieval spiritual literature could lead to the rediscovery and reopening” of “a fullness of active, affective, intellectual, and creative literary participation” (233).

[Christian · Rating 5 out of 5]

A good overview of the development of lectio divina up to the 12th century.