Scriptio divina

“Write hard and clear about what hurts. Don’t avoid it. It has all the energy. Don’t worry, no one ever died of it. You might cry or laugh, but not die.” – Ernest Hemingway

I have a love-hate relationship with this blog. I feel compelled to write. Yet, I also feel that quite often I just repeat myself, or say innocuous or obvious things. How many times I want to delete a post!!! But often enough, by some unexpected kindness, I can see good coming through it. And then I think of Chesterton’s encouraging words: “If a thing is worth doing, it’s worth doing badly.”

But in many ways, this blog is really for me.

Cardinal George was once asked for whom he wrote his book, The Difference God Makes. His response surprised me at first, but as I thought on it I realized how true it was. He said, “In a way, I suppose, any author writes a book for himself or herself in some way. I need to clarify my own thinking. Then I put it out there.” Writing helps me work out my thoughts on this or that topic, and knowing I have (mostly silent) conversation partners on my blog transforms the monologue into a dialogue. And dialogue is in truth the garden of all wisdom.

This is why I always reiterate my gratitude for all who read or comment here. Just knowing someone is out there willing to listen and reflect brings something alive in me.

The decision to write regularly many years ago was life-changing. My rule is at least 3 minutes a day writing on matters of substance, mostly on what I have learned that day. Not for public consumption, just to get it down. I have found that some of my most cherished insights come from that commitment.

Especially in the later middle ages, there was great emphasis put on the spiritual value of writing as a form of prayer. The intimate encounter with God called ‘inspiration’ that the biblical authors experienced as they wrote is the same path to intimacy God invites each of us to today. This scriptio divina “divine writing” bears a sense that the same Spirit who gave us the inspired Word would inhabit the act of writing.

Our words have the capacity to refract the one Word of the Father, to enflesh his thoughts and bring about a unity of divine and human minds — in scriptio divina you open yourself to the “mind of Christ” (1 Cor. 2:16), the God-Man. When you ‘write in prayer.’ you in essence say to him, “think your thoughts in me, Lord.” And…he loves when we do the same in him.

Writing uniquely disposes your soul to the living and active Word of God, who is always at work revealing. And though my grasp is fallible, the discipline is transformative.

I can say this transformative experience has occurred on a great number of occasions, whether I’m writing emails, letters, posts or talks. Or even texts! It can really change me.

I always encourage people to keep a journal of some sort that records what they have heard, seen, learned throughout the day. To regularly reflect on and record the wisdom gained, to think through challenging issues in the presence of God — just for a few minutes a day — not only opens insights but grounds wisdom more deeply in your memory. And now and again I find it really helpful to share something of what I write with some trusted person to offer me feedback — friends, a mentor or counselor or spiritual guide.

Back in April, I intentionally chose to write of my dealings with anxiety during an actual severe anxiety attack. That was a first for me, writing during an event. I wanted to capture for myself the inside perspective I have during those moments — which is quite different from retrospection. For those who know this, it’s really hard to do anything of this sort when you are in an attack. The next month, I sent an excerpt to my spiritual director for conversation. And wow it was very helpful, and liberating. A facing of the monster head on.

A last point. St. Athanasius of Alexandria tells us that St. Antony of the Desert counseled monks to write out their “deeds and the movements of the soul as if they were to be read by the other monks, and in this way the monks will form themselves.” Two things I love about this. Write as if some particular person will read what you write, and in doing that you will form yourself. This immediately reminded me of what a friend of mine often says to me when I ask her for advice: “Well, first tell me what advice you would give someone if they were in the same situation as you.” Somehow, doing that allows for the critical distance needed to think through something more objectively, and develops your reflexive good-judgment muscle.

Okay, well that’s all. Thanks for thinking with me today. I hope you can write something with Jesus later, he’s anxious to think with you about things. 🙂