Lectio Divina
Memorial of Saint Bonaventure, Bishop and Doctor of the Church
Theme: “Hidden”
1. Lectio
Gospel: Matthew 11:25
“I give praise to you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, for although you have hidden these things from the wise and the learned you have revealed them to the childlike.”
Saint Bonaventure was one of the greatest minds in the Church’s history. His writings shaped theology for centuries, yet he insisted that the deepest knowledge of God belongs not to the most learned, but to those who approach God with the humility of a child. The intellect can illuminate the path, but only love walks it.
What knowledge of God is being hidden from me because I choose to be wise and learned instead of childlike?
Perhaps the Kingdom is hidden not because God conceals it, but because I search for Him in complicated ways while He quietly waits in the simple ones.
2. Meditatio
One hidden character of The Glenn is Eleanor the cat.
Whenever someone asks about the animals on the farm, I immediately mention the sheep, the livestock guardian dogs, and—usually with a little hesitation—the pigs. Eleanor almost never enters the conversation. In fact, I usually forget she is here at all.
Yet rarely does a day pass that I don’t look up from whatever project occupies me and discover Eleanor quietly sitting nearby, observing everything in her catlike way.
The more I think about it, the more remarkable she becomes.
She may be the only creature with unrestricted access to the entire Glenn. She patrols every pasture, every barn, every fence line. She quietly keeps mice out of the feed, discourages rats from settling into the grain, and even keeps the bird population in balance. She serves the farm faithfully without ever asking to be noticed.
I have never bought her a food bowl.
I rarely feed her.
She finds water where she can.
She hunts what she needs.
During the winter she often curls up among the pigs in the warmth of the barn.
She simply receives the gifts creation provides.
Her hidden life reminds me that, from the beginning of the world—and especially through the Incarnation—the mystery of Christ has been quietly at work throughout creation without destroying its own integrity. Creation is not merely a collection of useful things; it is a quiet witness to its Creator.
Perhaps Eleanor has been teaching me something all along.
I spend much of my time noticing what is large, impressive, or demanding. Yet Christ often works through what is unnoticed, ordinary, and faithful. The hidden life is not an empty life; it is often the place where grace does its deepest work.
Saint Bonaventure saw all creation as a pathway to God. Every creature, however small, bears some trace of its Creator. The problem is not that God hides Himself. The problem is that I become too occupied with my own projects to notice the signs He has quietly placed before me.
If I become childlike enough to stop, look, and wonder, perhaps I will discover that Christ has been walking beside me all along—in the silence of the pasture, in the sheep, in the zinnias, and even in an overlooked barn cat named Eleanor.
3. Oratio
Lord Jesus,
Give me the humility to seek You with the heart of a child. Through the prayers of Saint Bonaventure, help me to love You more than I love appearing wise. Open my eyes to Your hidden presence in Scripture, in creation, and in every person I meet.
Amen.
4. Contemplatio
Magnifica Humanitas warns against the subtle ideology that measures people by efficiency, achievement, or usefulness, as though each person must earn the right to possess dignity.
The Gospel reveals the opposite.
The Father delights in revealing His Kingdom to the childlike because they receive life as gift rather than as accomplishment. Eleanor contributes quietly to The Glenn without ever proving her worth. She is valuable not because she demands attention, but because she faithfully lives according to the nature God has given her.
How often do I measure myself by what I produce? How often do I assume my value depends upon how much I accomplish or how many people notice?
Saint Bonaventure reminds me that wisdom begins with humility, not achievement. My dignity, like every person’s, was given before I accomplished anything at all. I do not have to earn God’s love; I am called simply to receive it and then quietly reflect it.
Perhaps the most hidden truth of all is that the people—and even the creatures—least noticed by the world often reveal the heart of God most clearly. The childlike are able to see this because they have not yet learned to confuse greatness with visibility.