Lectio Divina, Four, Five or Two Steps?
Summary: This article examines the practice of Lectio Divina, emphasising its true purpose as a dialogue with the living Word of God that transforms the heart and will through the grace of the Holy Spirit. It critiques the common four- and five-step methods, highlighting the risk of dislocating contemplation from action and of overlooking the integral connection with the sacramentality of the Liturgy of the Word. Ultimately, it calls for a return to the Gospel’s simplicity: listening to Christ daily in the readings offered by the Church and putting His Word faithfully into practice.
Note: My aim in this article is not to teach Lectio Divina as such. A proper, clear and systematic teaching on Lectio Divina can be found elsewhere, notably in the book on Lectio Divina, ‘The Method’, or ‘Lectio Divina at the School of Mary’. This point must be stated clearly from the outset. The purpose of the present text is rather to analyse and critically assess a commonly used five-step method, to identify its limitations, and to show where it fails to correspond to the inner supernatural dynamism of the Gospel and of authentic spiritual growth. The intention is not to disqualify readers who practise this method, but to help them move beyond a procedural framework that often proves ineffective, towards steps that genuinely work, because they are rooted in listening to the Word and putting it into practice. It is recommended to read the books indicated above.
Historical Background and Theological Clarification
The following reflection offers a constructive critique, rooted in the Gospel and in the Church’s teaching, of the four- or five-step method of Lectio Divina that is widely proposed today. Over the past few decades, this method has become the dominant explanatory framework, largely due to two influential figures: Enzo Bianchi and Cardinal Carlo Maria Martini. Their contribution has been decisive in shaping contemporary practice, especially after the Second Vatican Council.
It is essential, however, to recognise that before these interventions—dating essentially from the late 1970s onward—there was no codified method of Lectio Divina. In the strict historical sense, Lectio Divina was not a structured “method” but a monastic practice, primarily within Western monasticism. Monks devoted long periods, sometimes several hours a day, to the slow, prayerful reading of Scripture. This practice was embedded in a rhythm of life rather than analysed or systematised.
Significantly, manuals of spiritual theology prior to Vatican II contain no explicit treatment of Lectio Divina as a distinct method of prayer. This absence is not accidental. Lectio Divina was assumed as part of monastic life, not proposed as a universal pedagogical tool for the whole People of God. In this sense, the current widespread promotion of Lectio Divina among the laity, in seminaries, and in houses of religious formation represents something genuinely new in the Church’s history. We are living a unique moment, in which an originally monastic practice has been transposed into a universal ecclesial framework.
The emergence of the four-step structure—Lectio, Meditatio, Oratio, Contemplatio—is generally traced to a medieval text, the Scala Claustralium, attributed to Guigo II, a Carthusian prior of the twelfth century. This text is a short spiritual letter, not a manual. It offers a synthetic description of a lived experience rather than a detailed methodological guide. Guigo writes: “Reading seeks sweetness in blessed life, meditation finds it, prayer asks for it, contemplation tastes it.” The brevity of the text leaves many questions open, particularly concerning the nature of contemplation and what is meant to occur at that stage.
In the twentieth century, especially with the renewal of patristic studies, some authors interpreted “contemplation” within Lectio Divina primarily as the discovery of deeper or spiritual meanings of Scripture. This approach drew on the recovery of the doctrine of the spiritual senses of Scripture, as highlighted by Henri de Lubac in works such as Medieval Exegesis and History and Spirit. Dei Verbum itself encourages this recovery when it states that Scripture must be read “in the same Spirit in which it was written” (DV 12).
However, a serious theological risk emerges here. If contemplation is reduced to an intellectual or hermeneutical discovery—however subtle or elevated—it risks becoming informative rather than transformative. Pope Benedict XVI repeatedly warned against this reduction. In Verbum Domini, he insists that “the word of God is not merely informative but performative” and adds: “It brings about what it says.” Scripture is not given simply to be understood, but to accomplish something in the one who receives it. Detached from this performative dimension, Lectio Divina could unintentionally slide towards a form of spiritual intellectualism, or even a renewed gnosticism, where salvation appears to come through privileged insight rather than through obedient faith and conversion of life.
A second decisive development occurred through the pastoral and spiritual contribution of Cardinal Carlo Maria Martini. Deeply shaped by the Ignatian tradition, Martini integrated into Lectio Divina elements drawn from the Spiritual Exercises, particularly discernment, consolation and concrete decision-making. For him, listening to the Word necessarily involved responding to it. The Word of God is not neutral; it calls, judges, and sends.
This emphasis corresponds closely to the Gospel itself. Jesus does not say, “Blessed are those who understand the Word,” but rather: “Blessed are those who hear the word of God and keep it” (Luke 11:28). Likewise, in Matthew 7, Jesus contrasts hearing without action with hearing that leads to obedience: “Everyone then who hears these words of mine and acts on them will be like a wise man who built his house on rock” (Matthew 7:24). The criterion is not depth of insight but transformation of life.
In this light, the introduction of “action” as a decisive step was not an arbitrary addition but a theological retrieval of something intrinsic to biblical revelation. Encountering the Word of God necessarily entails change—conversion of mind, heart, and behaviour. If nothing changes, the encounter has remained incomplete.
This raises a fundamental question that must be faced honestly: are the four or five steps a faithful description of the inner dynamics of the encounter with the Word, or are they pedagogical constructions that risk obscuring what is essential? The Gospel itself suggests a more radical simplicity: hearing and doing, receiving and putting into practice, listening and responding. Any authentic method must ultimately serve this twofold movement, or it risks becoming an end in itself.
In this sense, the contemporary popularity of the multi-step method should be neither rejected outright nor absolutised. It must be evaluated in the light of Scripture, the lived tradition of the Church, and its real capacity to lead to conversion, obedience, and communion with Christ.
The traces of these twentieth-century interventions can clearly be identified in recent official documents of the Church. Dei Verbum first insists on the necessity of reading Scripture “in the same Spirit in which it was written” (DV 12). This affirmation is not incidental. It is one of the major fruits of the rediscovery of the Fathers of the Church and of patristic exegesis, particularly their insistence on Scripture as a living word addressed to the believer rather than a merely historical or doctrinal text.
The Catechism of the Catholic Church (1992) subsequently refers explicitly to the four stages of Lectio Divina. In paragraph 1177 it states: “The reading of Sacred Scripture, accompanied by prayer, should become a dialogue in which God speaks to man and man replies to God.” Elsewhere, drawing implicitly on the monastic tradition, it evokes reading, meditation, prayer, and contemplation as the ordinary movements of this dialogue. The historical source of this fourfold articulation is well known: the medieval letter of Guigo II the Carthusian, Scala Claustralium. What appears in the Catechism, however, is not a critical historical reconstruction but the reception of a spiritual schema that had already become widespread in pastoral practice.
A further and decisive development appears in Verbum Domini. For the first time, an official ecclesial document does not merely allude to Lectio Divina in a summarised way, but offers an extensive reflection on it. Pope Benedict XVI explicitly adds the dimension of action as a constitutive element. He writes: “There is one final step to be taken in the process of Lectio Divina: action (actio), which moves the believer to make his or her life a gift for others in charity” (Verbum Domini 87). This addition is not arbitrary. Its provenance is clear: it reflects the pastoral and spiritual teaching of Cardinal Carlo Maria Martini, who consistently warned against remaining suspended in what he once called “the clouds of a beautiful but sterile contemplation”.
Verbum Domini is itself the fruit of the Synod of Bishops on the Word of God (2008), which for the first time in history gathered testimonies from across the world of communities already practising Lectio Divina in diverse cultural and ecclesial contexts. This Synod revealed that what we now commonly call Lectio Divina is, in fact, a post-conciliar phenomenon. It emerged directly from the recommendations of the Second Vatican Council: to restore the centrality of the Word of God in the life of the Church, to place the Liturgy of the Word at the heart of every sacramental celebration, and to renew the lectionary so that “the riches of the Bible are opened more lavishly” (Sacrosanctum Concilium 51). The reformed lectionary, promulgated in December 1969, marked a decisive turning point.
During the Synod, witnesses spoke not only of four- and five-step practices, but also of seven-step forms, particularly in Africa. These testimonies constituted a major prise de conscience for the Church: an awareness of what the grace of God had quietly initiated immediately after Vatican II. It was, in many respects, a silent revolution. New liturgical calendars, renewed missals, and countless monthly publications offering the daily readings made it possible for the faithful, often for the first time, to pray daily with Scripture.
As a result, many forms of reading the Scriptures blossomed. It is true that even before Vatican II, Gospel groups gathered to read the Bible together, discern, and act. Yet after the Council, physically taking the Scriptures into one’s hands as a habitual form of prayer became a new and widespread experience. This gave rise to a great diversity of approaches. Today, Lectio Divina is often presented simply as a spiritual meditation on a biblical text. The proliferation of books entitled Lectio Divina on the Gospel of… or Lectio Divina on the Letter to… is symptomatic of this shift.
As noted earlier, some authors understand Lectio Divina primarily as the search for new spiritual meanings in Scripture. We are therefore faced with a genuine blossoming, but one that unfolds in many directions simultaneously. This situation calls for discernment—discernment that, historically speaking, has rarely been carried out with sufficient theological precision. Verbum Domini offers several criteria for such discernment, insisting on ecclesial communion, Christological unity, and the performative power of the Word. Yet these criteria must be held together and deepened.
What is still lacking is a fully developed theology of listening, grounded in a robust supernatural anthropology. Without such a framework, it becomes difficult to follow the journey of the Word of God within the human person: how it enters, judges, purifies, converts, and transforms. Without this, one cannot adequately discern what the Word truly accomplishes in us, nor identify the pitfalls that may lead to a sterile—or even distorted—practice of Lectio Divina.
Another indispensable criterion is a genuine return to the simplicity and depth of the Gospel itself, a simplicity already present in the Old Testament: listening and putting into practice. Jesus never proposed a method, whether of four, five, or seven steps. He simply said: listen and act. “Why do you call me ‘Lord, Lord’, and do not do what I tell you?” (Luke 6:46). “My mother and my brothers are those who hear the word of God and do it” (Luke 8:21). The danger of a spiritual life that listens without obedience is expressed with striking clarity in the parable of the house built on sand: storms and floods will inevitably come, but such a life collapses because it is not founded on the rock of the Word put into practice (Matthew 7:24–27).
The Lord’s teaching is marked by radical simplicity and uncompromising exigence. One must truly listen, and one must truly act. Jesus devotes an entire parable—the parable of the Sower, which he himself identifies as foundational (“Do you not understand this parable? Then how will you understand all the parables?”: Mark 4:13)—to revealing the difficulty of listening, the resistance of the human heart, and the arduous process by which the Word becomes incarnate in us and bears fruit. This teaching is not marginal; it is central to the Gospel. Any authentic practice of Lectio Divina must ultimately be judged by its fidelity to this evangelical criterion.
Today, we need to pause and take stock of this unique moment in the history of the Church. At the same time, we must submit all the “methods” currently in use to the scrutiny and discernment of the Gospel itself. The recourse to methods—whether four, five, or seven steps—can easily become a form of spiritual endormissement, a dulling of conscience, and a temptation to miss what is truly at stake in the act of listening to the Word of God and in the immense challenge it represents.
The risk is real. The process is not about ticking boxes. It is not about extracting a few edifying thoughts from a text and reflecting on them. It is not about discovering ever more refined or novel meanings within Scripture. At its core, Lectio Divina is a renewed and demanding effort of conversion, lived daily in the presence of Jesus and under the judgement of his Word. The Word is not there to be mastered or handled safely; it is there to confront, to call, and to change us.
A final and striking tension must be addressed. There is a constant dichotomy that one observes in contemporary presentations of Lectio Divina. On the one hand, all serious authors—biblical scholars, theologians, and the Magisterium itself—consistently insist that Lectio Divina cannot be separated from the liturgy. On the other hand, when it comes to concrete pastoral guidance, very few explicitly state that Lectio Divina ought normally to be practised on the daily liturgical readings.
The Magisterium strongly underlines the sacramentality of the proclamation of the Word. Verbum Domini recalls with force that “the proclamation of the Word of God in the liturgy is a sacramental event” and that Christ himself is present and speaks when the Scriptures are read in the Church (Verbum Domini 52). Yet, in practice, the organic link between the Liturgy of the Word and personal or communal Lectio Divina often remains implicit or even absent. What is lacking is the recognition of a deep, direct, and immediate connection—one that should naturally lead the faithful to open the daily readings when they engage in Lectio Divina.
Pope Benedict XVI expressed this link with great clarity. He stated that Lectio Divina “prepares the celebration of the liturgy, accompanies it, and prolongs it in life” (Verbum Domini 86). He even draws a precise parallel: just as Eucharistic adoration flows from the celebration of the Eucharist and leads back to it, so Lectio Divina stands in a living relationship with the Liturgy of the Word. To detach Lectio from the liturgical proclamation is therefore to weaken its ecclesial and sacramental grounding.
Examining the Five-Step Method
It is on the basis of these criteria that I propose, in what follows, a critical re-reading of contemporary methods. These criteria are, above all, the two fundamental movements indicated by the Gospel itself—listening and putting into practice—and a supernatural anthropology capable of following the descent of the Word of God within us. The Word first enters the mind, illumining and judging it; it then reaches the will, converting it; finally, it gives birth to an act—often an interior act, but one that is nonetheless real and transformative.
I will begin by taking as an example a widely circulated presentation of the four-step method, which remains the most common framework today. I will analyse it carefully and highlight its limitations, not in order to dismiss it, but in order to guide the reader back towards the fundamental evangelical movement of hearing and doing.
We will first read this presentation as it stands—acknowledging that some may disagree with certain elements of it—and then I will apply to it the different criteria proper to a theology of listening. The text that follows is not my own. It is reproduced here solely for illustrative purposes and as the object of the subsequent analysis that is mine. Here is the text (in red):
“What does “Lectio Divina” mean?
Lectio Divina means “prayerful reading of the Word of God”; it is a dialogue with Him that challenges our life. It is a method of prayer that gives rise to a personal encounter with God, a way that teaches us to read, meditate on, and live the Word.
When we read a passage of the Bible, it invites us to come to know Jesus in a more personal way, by entering into his person in the different circumstances of everyday life. In this way, it helps us, by learning from his life, to respond to our own, challenging our thoughts and our way of acting.”
Analysis: It is important to explain the very nature and purpose of Lectio Divina. The first main fruit of the Incarnation is that the Eternal inaudible Word of God, the second person of the Trinity, not only assumed human nature but also, in a sense, became words—coming to give us words of a unique character. These words are spirit and life; more precisely, they are Holy Spirit and Divine Life. Through his unique words, he desires to heal us, shed his light, transform us, change us, purify us, and free us from sin and darkness. Of course, this can only happen if we receive them, if we experience them, and recognise, with the help of the Holy Spirit, their transformative power. In this sense, God is the one who takes the initiative in Lectio. He desires to come and give us the daily Word that can help us grow in holiness and be transformed each day. The risen Lord comes during the Liturgy of the Word to give us the Bread of his Word, and Lectio is the moment when we respond to Jesus’ call—Jesus who comes to our place to give us today’s bread, the bread of his transformative Word. Jesus has the initiative, and Lectio is the time we take to answer this call. Lectio is a way that allows Christ to speak to us, guide us, purify us, and change us: spiritual growth is the fruit of Lectio Divina.
The text says: “When we read a passage of the Bible, it invites us to come to know Jesus in a more personal way.” Yes, this is true, but it is the Lord who wants to speak to us and wants to change us. The text continues: “entering into his person in the different circumstances of everyday life. In this way, it helps us, learning from his life.” Yes, but let us remember that it is He who teaches us. The text continues: “to respond to our own, challenging our thoughts and our way of acting.” Jesus is the one who proposes the act to be done; He knows what bread we need today, and He offers it to us so that we can be transformed into the bread of his Word.
“Preparation: I become aware of the place. I ask God for help. I take the Bible into my hands with love, as if it were a treasure. With a pure heart and with humility, I invoke the Holy Spirit; I ask that he make himself present with his gifts.”
Analysis: I become aware of the desire the Lord has to speak to me. Not only this, but also I become aware that in today’s Liturgy of the Word, He came to my parish to speak to me. There is a grace I do not want to lose. It is the initiative of the Lord. Lectio cannot be separated from the Liturgy of the Word of today’s Mass. It is not a personal exercise alone, isolated from the Church, from the liturgy. Therefore, it is not a question of “one or more passages of the Bible” as written below, but of today’s readings, which I did not choose, but which the Church, God, chose.
“1st. Jesus Truth (Reading)
In a first moment, the reading (lectio) of one or more passages of the Bible is carried out; in this reading we try to understand the text as it presents itself, through careful consideration and attentive observation; we keep it in its context, but without the pretension of immediately extracting messages and conclusions from it. We repeat words and phrases that we see are important for us at that moment. We keep our hearts open and available to listen to the Lord, for it is our God who is speaking to us.”
Analysis: What is recommended here is of utmost importance, and we can only concur: “in this reading we try to understand the text as it presents itself.” We must respect the literal sense of the text, not twist it to suit our preferences or agenda, not instrumentalise the Sacred Text for our own purposes, and not extract a passage from its context in order to make it say what it does not say.
“2nd. Jesus Way (Meditation)
Afterwards comes meditation on the text, “to chew and ruminate”, in order to penetrate and scrutinise the Word of God. “…and what does this passage say to me, what does it commit me to, and how does it challenge me?” MEDITATION is entering into the text, deepening it, not remaining with the information received in the reading, but going beyond it, making an attentive rereading, seeing the meaning of the passage, seeking the message it conveys, updating that message to our personal, communal, and social reality. MEDITATION is going beyond what has been heard in the reading; it is seeking the richness it contains; it is discovering the current, living, and demanding message that the Lord transmits to us through his Word, which is always living and effective, sharper than a two-edged sword (Heb 4:12).
MEDITATION starts from the text, is about the text, and proceeds from the text, in order to meditate on what is seen, discovered, known, and felt from the text of Scripture.
Afterwards, each person briefly begins by responding to the question: What does God say to me through this text? We try to listen to God who speaks to us: we welcome his voice and examine our life in the light of his Word.”
Analysis: This entire second step (meditation) is not always immediately clear within us, and clarity is needed to allow the Lord to speak. Above all, it is essential first to understand what the text actually says (which is step one: Reading). Trying to go further too quickly by “meditating” on it can sometimes interfere with the Lord’s initiative to speak to us. And if we go further by meditating, the fruit of our meditation can remain first in our mind, creating an obstacle to what the Lord wants to say, which could be different.
One thing is to read—and to read repeatedly—trying to understand what the text wants to say. Going further too soon can prevent the sacramentality of the Word from functioning. Let me explain: the letter of the Word, the letter of the text, is like stained glass. The goal of Lectio is first to clarify the text by understanding it, and then to let the light of the Lord shine through it and speak to us. Another image is the piece of cloth that protects the piano keyboard. Understanding the text (through reading, but not yet meditating) is like removing the cloth. Then the Lord can come and play. Each key is a word, and removing the cloth from each key is like allowing the Lord, afterward, to play freely on it and say what He wants.
Meditation—in general always legitimate—is a further effort to extract insights or lights from the text, our minds are very clever and capable of producing many ideas. Our minds can become attached to one or more of these ideas. This is not bad in itself outside of Lectio, but if pushed too far during Lectio, it can prevent the capacity needed to listen to the Lord rather than to our own clever mind. This is why it is preferable at this stage to focus on reading carefully and repeatedly, trying to understand the text, without going further. Meditation can be done at another time, and it is indeed useful, but the priority is to let the Lord speak first.
In this sense, I would cancel this step for its ambiguity and leave only reading, stressing reading many times and insisting on trying to understand what the text actually says. This process can easily take twenty minutes or more.
Note: For a person who does not yet have Jesus in their life, meditating—that is, reflecting—on the text, pondering on it, is important and necessary. But for a person who has Jesus in their life, the decisive point is to let Him speak and not allow our own thoughts to choose.
Note: Even here, our desires and projections onto the text can be activated and interfere. Furthermore, a person who has never read, meditated and studied in their adult life, on the Gospels, the Letter to the Romans, Genesis, Exodus, or Isaiah, would do well to do so first.
In conclusion: one must know exactly what is meant by “meditation” and distinguish it clearly from what is reading and understanding the sacred text. I would simply eliminate this step to avoid ambiguity, interference and blocking of the supernatural process of listening.
“3rd. Jesus Life (Prayer)
Afterwards comes prayer, humble supplication. What does this text invite me to say to God? Biblical reading takes place only in a dialogue of faith: God speaks, we listen, we receive and respond to God and speak to him. This step, which is called PRAYER, is placed here, seeking that the word which was read and known in the READING, which was deepened and reflected upon in the MEDITATION, which served as a means for the heart-to-heart encounter with the Lord in the CONTEMPLATION, may now illuminate our personal or communal life in the light of that Word, asking for the grace to live it, or giving thanks for the gift that it represents, or praising the Lord for what his revelation or his person has implied. The text can give rise to various types of prayer: praise, thanksgiving, adoration, petition, forgiveness… We continue with the prayerful reading, contemplation. We return personally to the text; we dwell in the Word in order to savour it. We deepen our understanding of the mystery of God and of his plan of love and salvation. We conclude by disposing ourselves to welcome into our concrete life what the Word teaches us, renewing our good resolutions. It is a matter of returning to what God has said to us in meditation–contemplation, formulating a commitment of life, so that the Word may guide our life.”
Analysis: Yes, these words are key: “God speaks, we listen, welcome, and respond to God and speak to Him.” At this stage, it is crucial to understand the nature of prayer, of petition. The movement of prayer begins with the Lord; the risk is to make it start from ourselves.
Let me explain. If I say, “Lord, help me in this matter” or “give me your light on this matter,” the prayer begins from me. I am directing it; I am directing the Lord. He is not the guide; I am simply using his light to clarify what I already want to understand. What is needed instead is to allow the Lord to guide our life.
Think of it this way: often our prayer is like a list—“give me this, do that”—and only at the end do we add, “may your will be done.” This inverts the true order of the spiritual life. It is like sitting in the driver’s seat of a car, while the Lord sits beside us, and we tell him where to go according to our understanding, asking him to make everything work well. Who is really leading? Us.
Lectio, and prayer in general, must begin in Jesus, not in us. This is why we need to invert the movement by asking: “Lord, what do you want from me?” “What do you want to change in me?” “What do you want me to do?” In this way, He decides, He guides, He has the initiative. This is true listening—not a self-delusion about listening. Our heart must act purely; our prayer must be pure.
“4th. Jesus Life (Contemplation)
CONTEMPLATION is in itself the deepest and most personal form of prayer. Here it is no longer a matter merely of knowing or understanding things from the Bible, but of a personal and direct encounter with the Lord. What counts here is no longer the information one possesses, but how all that is known about God is used, no longer to speak about the Lord but WITH him. In CONTEMPLATION one starts from the text that has been read and meditated upon; everything that has been said, heard, and known now serves as a means to speak to the Lord heart to heart. CONTEMPLATION seeks that the experience the sacred writer had in communicating the revealed text may be actualised in oneself on the basis of what has been known. It is to know the Lord in a lived, experiential way, not only intellectually, but by entering into the heart of God, seeking to know what is known and intuited from the text. TO CENTRE ON JESUS, TO VISUALISE. In that situation of mutual gaze, being inundated by the love that the Lord gives, one seeks dialogue with him, the colloquy of heart to heart. From what has been said, this serves to go beyond the text, to be able to question and know the Lord, to ask him about what he feels, why he does what he does or says what he says. To share with him what one feels in the face of that situation, what one thinks about what he said or did, and to allow this to generate dialogue with him: to speak to him, tell him, ask him, but at the same time to give him time to respond and to make himself known. There, prayer of silence takes place: listening, paying attention, hearing the Lord in the deepest part of the heart, where only those who wish to hear him can hear him, for he speaks in the depths of the soul and his voice is clear to those who have an open heart. This is what is called CONTEMPLATION.
Analysis: The text says: “What matters there is no longer the information one possesses, but how all that is known of God is used—not to speak about the Lord but WITH Him.” I am rather inclined to say: it is not about “speaking with the Lord”; it is rather letting Him speak to us. When I pray to Him saying, “Tell me what you want from me,” I am expecting Him to speak. It is not a conversation of equals; He is my guide, and I need to wait—while praying—until He reveals His will.
The text says: “It is to know the Lord experientially, not just intellectually, but by entering into the heart of God, seeking to know what is known and intuited from the text.” I find this not sufficiently clear. We ask Him to tell us what He wants from us today, and He will do so through the text. This stage is about encountering the living and present Word, which acts in us, guides us, and purifies us.
Then the text says: “Focus on Jesus, visualise.” I would recommend “visualising” in faith, and not too much by relying on our imagination, but rather with the help of the Holy Spirit.
Sometimes people approach Lectio Divina from an experience of the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius. However, how a person understands the Spiritual Exercises is sometimes left to personal perception and not always aligned with what St. Ignatius intended. Consider this passage from the text:
“Being in this mutual gaze, being flooded by the love the Lord gives, seek dialogue with Him, the heart-to-heart conversation. From what was said, let it serve to go beyond the text, being able to question and know the Lord, asking Him about what He feels, why He does what He does or says what He says. Share with Him what one feels in that situation.”
I find that this back-and-forth can become an unnecessary interference in the process of listening. Some imperfect residues of an experience of the Spiritual Exercises seem to linger here.
One can fully approve of the following part of the text: “Give Him time to respond and reveal Himself, and there is the prayer of silence, of listening, of paying attention, of hearing the Lord in the deepest part of the heart, where only those who want to hear Him can hear, for He speaks in the depths of the soul, and His voice is clear for those with an open heart.”
“5th. Jesus Life (Action)
What is going to change? It is always good to remember that the Word of the Lord is not only to be known, but must be made life (Mt 7:21), and must be the foundation of our attitudes and our actions (Mt 7:24–27), for blessed are those who “…hear the Word and put it into practice…” (Lk 11:28). This is the foundation of the fifth step of Lectio Divina: ACTION, living, making into life what has been reflected upon and prayed. If there has truly been a heart-to-heart encounter with the Lord, one cannot remain the same; something must change, and in some way what has been known must become visible. ACTION is looking at oneself; it is seeking the attitudes and the way of living the message that has been encountered and that is proposed for me, today, here and now.
We sincerely hope that this helps you to walk with Jesus every day.”
Analysis: Often, the connection between the stages of “contemplation” and “action” is not clearly recognised. In reality, these two stages are profoundly united by the same unique Word that Jesus gives us, which runs through both. What the Lord reveals in contemplation is precisely what we are called to do in action—it begins as an internal transformation in our will. We may not have been able to act before, but by allowing the Word to enter our hearts and wills, and with the grace of the Holy Spirit, we are enabled to put it into practice. This is a true work of God in us.
Sometimes, in the way the five-step method is presented, “action” appears as an external or almost artificial addition (added to the four steps as a remedy), only loosely connected with what preceded it. In the four-step method, one can be lifted up to the clouds into a taste of the Scriptures that touches the heart but does not naturally lead to action. In the five-step method, we may feel compelled to find an application through our own effort, rather than allowing the Lord to guide the outcome. In both cases, the supernatural flow from listening to the Word to acting on it can be interrupted, and the transformative power of the Word is not fully realised. I am not sure we measure the supernatural transformative loss here.
The true relationship between contemplation and action must flow organically. Contemplation is not an end in itself—it is intended to prepare the heart for a concrete response. As St. James warns: “Do not merely listen to the word, and so deceive yourselves. Do what it says. Anyone who listens to the word but does not do what it says is like someone who looks at his face in a mirror; he sees himself, then goes away and immediately forgets what he looks like. But whoever looks intently into the perfect law that gives freedom, and continues in it—not forgetting what they have heard, but doing it—they will be blessed in what they do” (James 1:22–25). This principle reminds us that listening to a word without acting up it risks turning lectio into an intellectual exercise rather than a transformative encounter.
In trying to understand “action”, it is important that we do not approach the Word with our own projections, trying to make it illuminate our lives according to our plans. True change occurs when we allow Jesus to show us what He wants to accomplish in us today. The clarity He brings is often sudden, as St. Ignatius notes, and it is precisely in this openness to His guidance that transformation happens.
Some traditional formulations, such as “Looking at oneself is seeking the attitudes and the way of living,” risk dislocating the flow of lectio if understood as a purely human effort disconnected from contemplation of the Word he gave us.
Lectio comes to us from the Gospel, not from copying medieval (four steps) or Renaissance texts (adding action) without comprehension. The Gospel is simple and clear: “listen to my word today and put—this same word—into practice.”
Listening to the Word means listening to Jesus in the present moment, seeking to understand what He asks of us today. “Give us today our daily bread”: the bread of Your Word, which we are called to live. Listening is a supernatural act that requires the work of the Holy Spirit. With His help, the human being who has listened can put the Word into practice.
Ultimately, the meaning of lectio must be expressed in its evangelical simplicity. The profound unity of lectio under the received Word must be emphasised, showing that listening, receiving, and acting form a continuous, transformative movement guided by the Lord Himself.
If one wants to keep the four/five steps, one can keep in mind the following diagram and the key visual metaphors:
Diagram: The Transformative Flow of Lectio Divina
- Reading (Lectio)
- Focus on the text itself.
- Repeated reading to understand the Word as it is, without projecting personal ideas.
- The Word enters the mind and heart; the Holy Spirit begins His work.
- Contemplation (Contemplatio)
- Heart open, listening to what Jesus wants to say today.
- Not a conversation of equals: it is Him speaking to us, not us speaking to Him.
- Experiencing the living Word, allowing it to act, guide, and purify.
- Internal Transformation
- The Word begins to shape our will, desires, and intentions.
- Change is first internal, subtle, often sudden—guided by the Holy Spirit.
- Action (Actio / Practicing the Word)
- Putting the Word into practice in concrete, daily life.
- Actions flow naturally from what was received in contemplation.
- The Gospel’s Word is realised in our attitudes and decisions.
- Prayerful Response Throughout
- At every stage: listening, silent attention, and asking “Lord, what do You want from me today?”
- Prayer is primarily receptive, allowing the Lord to lead.
- The Holy Spirit ensures that the Word transforms us, not merely our clever reflections.
Key Visual Metaphors
- The Word is like light through a stained glass: understanding the text clarifies the “glass,” then the Lord’s light shines through it, illuminating our hearts.
- The Word is like keys on a piano: understanding (reading) removes the cover; then the Lord can “play” freely, producing the harmony of transformation.
Conclusion
In conclusion, the practice of Lectio Divina must be approached with both clarity and discernment, always rooted in the Gospel and in the initiative of Christ. Historical methods—whether the four-step or five-step approaches—offer useful guidance, but they risk obscuring the fundamental reality: Lectio is not about human cleverness, intellectual discovery, or even structuring steps for their own sake. Its true power lies in listening to the living Word, allowing it to enter our heart and will, and responding in faithful action.
Reading is not merely an intellectual exercise; it is an invitation to encounter Jesus personally. Contemplation is not about producing insights for our own agenda, but about receiving the Word and letting it transform us internally. Action is not an afterthought, nor a human invention; it is the natural fruit of the Word working in us by the grace of the Holy Spirit. Each stage—reading, contemplation, transformation, action—is unified and inseparable, guided by the Spirit, and grounded in the simple yet demanding call of Christ: “Listen to my word today and put it into practice” (James 1:22–25).
A crucial dimension often overlooked is the inseparable connection between Lectio Divina and the sacramentality of the proclamation in the Liturgy of the Word. Lectio cannot be abstracted from the daily Mass or the Church’s liturgical life; it must take the readings that the Church presents, allowing Christ to speak to us today through His Word. Dislocating Lectio from this sacramental context risks reducing it to a private exercise of personal insight, disconnected from the living, communal, and sacramental life of the Church.
Ultimately, Lectio Divina is a profound dialogue between God and the soul, where the Lord initiates, speaks, and transforms, and we respond in faithful obedience. The Church, through Scripture, tradition, and the lived experience of the faithful, continually reminds us that this practice is both deeply personal and inseparably connected to the liturgy. To practise Lectio well is to allow the Word to dwell within us, illuminate our hearts, and bear fruit in concrete acts of love, mercy, and fidelity. In this way, Lectio Divina is not merely a method but a path to ongoing spiritual formation and intimate union with Christ.
Jean Khoury
Our Lady of Lourdes, 11 Feb 2026
Read Also
Lectio Divina: Origins and the Theology of Listening (+ Lectio Divina Prior to Guigo)
Guigo’s Letter About Contemplative Life
Four Steps to Nowhere: Exposing the Misleading Shortcut in Lectio Divina