Lectio Divina — Fiction

Notice that the apostles’ first and most important duty was simply to “be with him*”—to “waste time” in the presence of Jesus, loving him and being loved by him, learning his ways, letting their hearts become more and more aligned with his.

Mary Healy, The Word Among Us, Oct. 2022

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My job was just to spend twenty minutes with scripture: reading, thinking, and praying as I chose; the fireworks were up to God.

Leah Libresco, Arriving at Amen

Stained glass of the Holy Spirit as a dove
The Holy Spirit helps us pray.

There can be an internal pressure to our prayer time, as if God is grading us on how well we do. In actuality as long as we’re there praying, however we choose to do it, then we’re doing it right. Just the doing of it, the hanging out, our presence is what is required. God will do the rest. 

I want to know Jesus as well as the disciples did. 

In my case, I continually return to lectio divina, which means divine reading. It's a slow, contemplative reading, usually of the Bible. We read, listening for the murmur of God, and contemplate what we find. Here's an article which explains it well.

In my case, God has spoken to me through literature since I became aware that he was a real person. (That's another story.) Last year I began including fiction in my lectio divina. My prayer time became a time that I couldn't wait for. After all, who doesn't love reading a good story and talking it over with a friend?

 I pick fiction that I know is inspirational on some level. Then I read for around 15-20 minutes. I read the book, a chapter a day if possible, from cover to cover. As things strike me, I will stop to appreciate the truth I've just realized. These are my moments to share with Jesus. It can be incredibly fruitful. And sometimes there is nothing but reading the story. That's how prayer goes.  

I began by reading The Lord of the Rings during Lent, It was unbelievably powerful. I went on to read In This House of Brede, The Feast, A Little Princess, Death Comes for the Archbishop, and The Hobbit. Occasionally I will read nonfiction but it is usually telling a story — The Hiding Place, A Song for Nagasaki, and The Smile of a Ragpicker. 

I also read A Beginner's Guide to Dante's Divine Comedy by Jason M. Baxter. It was a sort of a cheat because I really wanted to reread Dante but wasn't quite ready to dive in again. Because it was delving into Dante, it was a rich source of inspiration. This year, might be the Divine Comedy year.

Every book was chosen in the service of hanging out and reading something that captured my interest as a point of conversation with Jesus. There's a real sense of anticipation when my afternoon prayer time comes up now. And if I'm not feeling so eager, it is not a hardship to pick up a book I enjoy. I am soon pulled back into the reading (and conversation) I love so well.

* He appointed twelve, to be with him (Mark 3:14). 

Breathless encounters with the classics

Charles Dickens: A Tale of Two Cities.
With Illustrations by H. K. Browne. 1859. First edition

For of all my discoveries, nearly the most breathless was Dickens, himself. How many of the educated can ever suspect the delight of such a delayed encounter? I think we owned a Collected Works when I was a child. But I had tried David Copperfield too early and had believed all my life that he was not for me. One night last winter I was sleepless and somehow without a book. From our own shelves I took down Little Dorrit, which people tell me now is one of the least beguiling of the lot. But Keats first looking on Homer could have been no more dazzled than I first poring on my Boz. I felt as a treasure-hunter might feel had he tripped over the locked chest that belonged to Captain Kidd.

Phyllis McGinley

I found this quote in a good piece about not being able to understand the classics until we are adults by Tod Worner at Word on Fire. Phyllis McGinley, whose wonderful book Saint-Watching I have loved for some time, echoes precisely my own adult encounter with Dickens in A Tale of Two Cities. I still remember how thrilled I was to see how many of his books were there for me to discover. I went on to read all of them.

It is interesting to think about the classics that I've grown to love as an adult since Uncle Tom's Cabin awoke me to the possibility that maybe classics weren't boring. That was in 2006. From there I went to the afore-mentioned A Tale of Two Cities, The Lord of the Rings, Dante's Divine Comedy, C.S. Lewis's Space Trilogy, and Kim. All are books that I approached with the trepidation borne of early failed attempts. Some I had to approach with audio, print, and commentaries. But I kept going and there was something very worthwhile in them all.

The latest in that struggle was Brideshead Revisited which my book club just discussed this Monday. I do not yet love it, but I now appreciate a book I had cast away twice earlier with distaste. I know I will reread it and can foresee a future where I might love that work. Once I was finished, I appreciated the struggle itself and the fruit it yielded. There was a real sense of satisfaction in working through a challenge successfully. What I found in each was something that enriched my life and mind in new and exciting ways.

All of this is to say that when I feel a book challenge circling my mind I no longer duck and weave to avoid it. I wait to see if it will settle and then approach the book with a certain anticipation, both of the struggle and of the achievement.

Next up? Well, I have been thinking about Augustine's City of God an awful lot over the past few months ... and also Crime and Punishment. We shall see if either of them settles down to roost.