Lectio divina is Latin for divine reading. In the 12th century, a Carthusian monk named Guigo formally described and recorded the stages traditionally considered essential to practicing lectio divina: lectio, meditatio, oratio, and contemplatio.

The LOVE the Word™ method retains the fundamental monastic practice and discipleship in scripture reading, meditation, and prayer that constitutes traditional lectio practice, but without the confusing Latin terms. Learn the history of lectio, and how, instead, to simply LOVE like Mary!
Study Audio

LOVE the Word™ is a Bible study method based on Mary’s own practice. This week’s LOVE the Word™ exercise is based on a Augustinian* personality approach. Go on! Try it!

Listen (Receive the Word)

Jesus entered Jericho and was passing through. And there was a man named Zacchaeus; he was a chief tax collector, and rich. And he sought to see who Jesus was, but could not, on account of the crowd, because he was small of stature. So he ran on ahead and climbed up into a sycamore tree to see him, for he was to pass that way. And when Jesus came to the place, he looked up and said to him, "Zacchaeus, make haste and come down; for I must stay at your house today." So he made haste and came down, and received him joyfully. And when they saw it they all murmured, "He has gone in to be the guest of a man who is a sinner." And Zacchaeus stood and said to the Lord, "Behold, Lord, the half of my goods I give to the poor; and if I have defrauded any one of anything, I restore it fourfold." And Jesus said to him, "Today salvation has come to this house, since he also is a son of Abraham. For the Son of man came to seek and to save the lost." Luke 19:1-10

Observe (Connect the passage to recent events.)

Jericho, an enormous city rich on trade to the East, is surrounded by date palms and scented with almond flowers. Cumin, cassia, myrrh, and essential oils feed a continuous caravan of exports streaming away from the city like ant trails. For the Roman government, the city is an engorged center of taxation. Plump. Ripe. Spilling over with revenue. Knee-deep in the harvest are the tax collectors, making sure what is Caesar’s is rendered unto Caesar, and in the process, a denarius or ten rendered unto themselves.

It’s early spring and Jesus is passing through Jericho; if He is not stopped, He will keep going. Where will He pass me by today if I do not stop Him?

The crowd swells as the curious vie for position. But for one man, curiosity isn’t enough. He is Zacchaeus, a small man.

Zacchaeus must have learned early how to survive in a big world, as one who probably got pushed around and bullied and teased for his size. Maybe he learned to compensate, to laugh at the jokes, to stay invisible, and to bide his time until he was standing tall at the top where payback is hell.

In the difficult process of growing up, maybe a tender part of his childhood was trampled underfoot and crushed, squashed under the clumsy and often cruel feet of the big and tall. As he climbed the professional ladder, he must have carried that crushed bit of himself everywhere he went. Don’t you?

Did he also step on anyone who stood in his way, anyone on the next rung up, until he arrived at the top where people finally fear him? Not just tax collector, chief tax collector. That the scriptures say he is rich is redundant. The modern equivalent is something like the drug boss with the gold grille, both in his mouth and on his car, filthy and rich on all that ruins lives. Zacchaeus has power; he has wealth. But he’s despised and corrupt and alone; and now he’s up a tree looking for Jesus.

What he sees up there, draped over the limb like drying laundry, is the total lack of a great Messiah-king’s pomp or ceremony, and yet,