On Meditation — The Sixteenth Method
Meditation 1 — or Contemplation, or the affective exposition — is a narration bursting forth, from the inmost and fervent affections of a glowing spirit, into living and ardent words; which certain devout expositors are especially wont to use, who direct all their efforts to this one end: that they may rouse and provoke themselves to the love of the things they read and explain; that they may in a manner transform into themselves what they handle, and, by the living experience of affections and works, may feel what they set forth in words — always with
…always dwelling with God in pious thoughts, sweet meditations, ardent desires, and fiery colloquies; ever aspiring, sighing, and panting after those things which, in explaining the divine scriptures, by the enlightening of the Spirit they have learned, and now within themselves, by the enkindling of the same Spirit, have begun to experience. This Exposition many, briefly defining it, call a soliloquy of the soul speaking with God about the divine scriptures; or thus: Meditation is the most secret speech of the expositor with God, and the most ardent contemplation of the divine darkness. Now this divine kind of explanation — scarcely known to very few — is accomplished chiefly by three exercises, 2 that is, by Ascent into God, Descent into oneself, and Return into God. For example, if that saying of Paul to the Colossians is to be explained — In Christ are all the treasures of the wisdom of God 3 — etc.:
First, the expositor will lift up his mind into God, and will piously contemplate how great and how admirable is the wisdom of God; and, with all the splendor of speech he can, he will display the treasure of the divine wisdom, which by a single and unceasing gaze always beholds and surveys all things — not only the greatest and noblest, but each least and meanest thing; to whom all the stars of heaven and all the sands of the sea are numbered; to whom every mind and every will speaks; to whom lies open every thought however hidden; and whom no secret escapes, reaching even to the inmost and impenetrable and unsearchable recesses of the human heart.
When the expounder has long and much revolved these things in wondering mind, in the second place let him turn his pen upon himself, and, descending into himself, let him meditate how that God, who beholds all things, directs his eyes even upon him, and considers all his thoughts and desires, his words too, and all his deeds, and continually observes them. After he has weighed these with himself in utmost reverence, he will apply all that he had already conceived of God to his own person, in this manner: O how great a necessity of doing well lies upon me, who do all things in the eyes of God who beholds all! O that I, a sinner, might find grace and good-will in the eyes of Christ Jesus, whose knowledge knows me and whose wisdom perpetually beholds me! O that I may please him! O that I may ever do the things that offend not his sight!
Thirdly, returning into God, whence he had descended, he will frame his explanation, in the manner of a prayer, thus supplicating: O Savior of men, Christ Jesus, in whom are all the treasures of the wisdom and knowledge of God — you who deign to look with the eyes of your supreme wisdom upon me, a most vile little worm, from whom none of my thoughts are hidden, with whom the groaning of my heart and the desire of my wretched will is not concealed — grant me, your servant, that I may do nothing unworthy of the sight of your majesty.
Most renowned in this form of expounding were Bernard the Abbot, Peter of Ailly, cardinal of Cambrai, Jerome Savonarola, and Franciscus Titelmannus.
An Example of Meditation, on Psalm 116
That highest Good, than which nothing greater can be conceived, is — as the most wise son of Sirach says — greater than all praise; 4 for its essence is incomprehensible, its majesty inaccessible, and its name utterly ineffable — which no creature can conceive in mind, much less express in words. Yet God himself commands, and bids, and wills to be praised by the mouth of men: and now especially, in the present Psalm, through the mouth of David he calls together all the peoples of the Hebrews and all the nations of the Gentiles to his own praises. What then shall I do? With what words, with what tongue shall I — a mute little worm — praise the unpraisable God? Though all the members of my body should be turned into tongues, and all my limbs should resound with a human, nay even an angelic, voice, I could say nothing worthy of his divine loftiness: before whose sight all praise falls silent, and every encomium ends in silence. Shall I then be silent? and despise the voice of God, crying to me through the mouth of David, and provoking me to praise my Creator? Far be it. I know what I shall do. I will fall down at the feet of him whom the Cherubim, the Seraphim, and all the hosts of angels ceaselessly praise together with heavenly hymns; and from my inmost heart I will say to him: O most clement Almighty God, whose incomprehensible majesty cannot be praised — grant that at least I may offer you some praises for your works, which can be celebrated; but especially for the mercy which you have shown to me, a wretch, and for the truth of your promises, which you have fulfilled in me. Do not leave me an orphan, but confirm your mercy over me: that your truth — Christ, my life — may remain with me for ever, and unto age of age. Amen.