Talking about Food Versus Eating It
Growing up in the church, I learned to approach the Bible as a source of information. The Bible told me about God. The purpose of reading it was to gain knowledge.
There’s nothing wrong with approaching the Bible this way. But there is a lot lost if this is the only way we read the Bible. Reading the Bible for knowledge about God is a very modern approach, and it has a scientific feel about it. Science divides the world up into objects that can be studied. There is the subject, us, and then there is the object, which is under the microscope or behind a glass exhibit. Science requires a certain distance between us and the object of study. It presumes that the object is separate from us and can be observed in its entirety. The result of this approach, then, is that we treat God as an object, as a thing that is distinct from us, as a thing that we can comprehend in its entirety and perhaps even master—instead of treating God as an experience, a relationship, a mystery in which we live and move and have our being.
Imagine with me a group of people who think they love food. They see a feast, and immediately they start talking about it. They talk about the chefs who prepared it and the recipes that may have been employed; they speculate and debate about the ingredients that were used and the cooking instruments and various methods; they share theories and they debate and they proclaim the greatness of this food, until their mouths are positively watering. But imagine that they do not eat the food themselves. What a sad scene it would be. There they are, proclaiming the greatness of this food right in front of them, yet they remain starving. They might know all about the food, but they have not tasted it, experienced it, enjoyed it.
Reading the Bible for knowledge is a little bit like talking about food instead of eating it. It’s like trying to God see through a microscope, instead of encountering God in the mystery of one’s own life. It’s like reading romance novels but never entering the risk of a real relationship.
Lectio Divina
Since the beginning of the Christian tradition, followers of Christ have read scripture in a much fuller and more profound way. They have not read it for information, but rather transformation. They have not read it for analysis, but for experience. They have read it with the expectation that they would personally encounter the God of all the universe, and that this God would speak to them and embrace them and guide them.
In the 12th century, a monk named Guigo (“Guy”) the Second offered a helpful tool for reading scripture this way. The tool is called lectio divina, or “divine reading,” and I’d like to share it with you today as we read our gospel scripture, which is Luke 10:38-42.
Lectio divina consists of four basic steps, through which I will guide us. Let me say now at the beginning that this practice is entirely voluntary. I will invite you after each step to share a word or a sentence or two with a neighbor around you, but it’s also fine if you prefer not to do that (or you may not have a neighbor sitting nearby).
We begin first with a prayer. Would you join me? Loving God…help us to set aside our thinking, controlling minds. Open us up to your presence in scripture and in our lives. Amen.
1. Now I will read our scripture a first time. Listen for a word that catches your attention, that beckons to you, that makes a special impression on you. Don’t analyze why it draws your attention. Simply abide with it, and let it settle within you. I will leave one minute after the reading for you to identify the word and to sit with it.
[Read scripture. Afterward, wait one minute.]
If you choose, I invite you now to turn to a neighbor (or two, if you happen to be in a clump), and share the word.
2. Now listen as our scripture is read a second time. This time, allow your word to unfold or grow. Notice any images, feelings, or memories that emerge in association with your word. I will leave one minute after the reading before inviting you to share with your neighbor.
[Read scripture. Afterward, wait one minute.]
If you choose, turn to a neighbor (or two, if you happen to be in a clump), and briefly, in one or two sentences, simply name the feelings, images, or memories that emerged.
3. Now listen as our scripture is read for a third and final time. This time, reflect on your word and its unfolding, and consider how God may be speaking through it to you. Is God inviting you to something, calling you, challenging you, asking you a question, declaring something to you? How is God speaking to you through your word? I will leave one minute after the reading before inviting you to share with your neighbor.
[Read scripture. Afterward, wait one minute.]
If you choose, turn to a neighbor (or two, if you happen to be in a clump), and briefly, in one or two sentences, simply name how you sense God’s call through your word.
4. The practice of lectio divina concludes with resting in God’s presence.
I will invite us, then, to pray silently in response to God’s personal call. There is no right or wrong way to pray here. Just be honest with God. Maybe you’ll share your feelings, maybe you’ll ask for help, maybe you’ll express your gratitude…or maybe you have nothing to say. When you’re finished praying, rest in God’s embrace. In one minute, I will say a short blessing to conclude.
Loving God, keep us rooted and grounded in
your love, and in your call to us.
In Christ: Amen.
I would like to share with you the word that grabbed my attention. It was the word “sat.” Mary “sat at the Lord’s feet and listened to what he was saying” (10:39). It reminds me of today’s psalm, which proclaims, “I am like a green olive tree in the house of God. I trust in the steadfast love of God forever and ever” (Ps 52:8). I imagine the psalmist sitting, rooted and grounded in God’s presence.
I wonder: Was Martha wrong not to sit? Was she wrong to stand, to move about, to have her hand among the many tasks of hosting a guest?
In the previous passage in Luke, Jesus tells a story about a good Samaritan who was very active in caring for the beaten and robbed man on the roadside. Caring for others is not wrong. Today’s passage begins by saying that Martha cared for Jesus the way any good host would care for a traveler. She “welcomed” him (10:38). Martha was not wrong to be up and about. Food must be cooked if empty stomachs are to be filled. Places must be prepared if weary souls are to find rest.
It is only when Martha becomes resentful and requests that Jesus rebuke her sister that Jesus gently invites her into his presence. He expresses concern not for the hustle and bustle of her hand but for the hurt and hard feelings in her heart. “Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things; there is need of only one thing” (10:41-42).
The divine call that I hear in this story is not an invitation to physically sit in contemplation like Mary, but rather to live out my responsibilities like Martha all the while remaining present to God. What I hear in this story is this:
There is a way to sit even when I’m not sitting.A way to sit while I’m walking, working, talking, thinking.
This way of sitting is not the absence of activity.
It is activity that is fully present.
This way of sitting while not sitting is activity without an agenda.
It does not try to be productive or successful.
It tries to be faithful.
This way of sitting while not sitting is attentive.
It hears the words that are spoken.
It sees what is not spoken.
It knows the needs of a situation.
This way of sitting while not sitting is certainty—
Not certainty with the head,
But certainty with the heart;
Not the certainty of knowledge,
But the certainty of commitment.
It knows the peace of God that surpasses all understanding (Phil 4:7).
It knows the love of Christ that surpasses all knowledge (Eph 3:19).
There is a way to sit while I’m walking, working, talking, thinking.
Loving God, let us be like a green olive tree in your house.
Keep us rooted and grounded in your love, and in your call to us.
In Christ: Amen.
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