In America’s National Cemeteries, Timothy B. Spears takes the reader on a grand tour of these singular places of commemoration, the final resting place for more than four million American military personnel who died either in wartime, during their time of service, or after their honorable discharge. His absorbing account—part historical narrative and part travelogue—is enhanced by 180 of his remarkable photographs, which capture the spirit, grandeur, and solemn remembrance to be found in each of the 155 national cemeteries across America and abroad.

Augustine of Hippo, a central figure in the history of Western thought, is also the author of a theory of reading that has had a profound influence on Western letters from the ages of Petrarch, Montaigne, Luther, and Rousseau to those of Freud and our own time. Brian Stock provides the first full account of this theory within the evolution of Augustine’s early dialogues, his Confessions, and his systematic treatises.

Augustine was convinced that words and images play a mediating role in our perceptions of reality. In the union of philosophy, psychology, and literary insights that forms the basis of his theory of reading, the reader emerges as the dominant model of the reflective self. Meditative reading, indeed the meditative act that constitutes reading itself, becomes the portal to inner being. At the same time, Augustine argues that the self-knowledge reading brings is, of necessity, limited, since it is faith rather than interpretive reason that can translate reading into forms of understanding.

In making his theory of reading a central concern, Augustine rethinks ancient doctrines about images, memory, emotion, and cognition. In judging what readers gain and do not gain from the sensory and mental understanding of texts, he takes up questions that have reappeared in contemporary thinking. He prefigures, and in a way he teaches us to recognize, our own preoccupations with the phenomenology of reading, the hermeneutics of tradition, and the ethics of interpretation.

Insight meditation, which claims to offer practitioners a chance to escape all suffering by perceiving the true nature of reality, is one of the most popular forms of meditation today. The Theravada Buddhist cultures of South and Southeast Asia often see it as the Buddha’s most important gift to humanity. In the first book to examine how this practice came to play such a dominant—and relatively recent—role in Buddhism, Erik Braun takes readers to Burma, revealing that Burmese Buddhists in the colonial period were pioneers in making insight meditation indispensable to modern Buddhism.

Braun focuses on the Burmese monk Ledi Sayadaw, a pivotal architect of modern insight meditation, and explores Ledi’s popularization of the study of crucial Buddhist philosophical texts in the early twentieth century. By promoting the study of such abstruse texts, Braun shows, Ledi was able to standardize and simplify meditation methods and make them widely accessible—in part to protect Buddhism in Burma after the British takeover in 1885. Braun also addresses the question of what really constitutes the “modern” in colonial and postcolonial forms of Buddhism, arguing that the emergence of this type of meditation was caused by precolonial factors in Burmese culture as well as the disruptive forces of the colonial era. Offering a readable narrative of the life and legacy of one of modern Buddhism’s most important figures, The Birth of Insight provides an original account of the development of mass meditation.

Between loyalty and disobedience; between recognition of the law’s authority and realization that the law is not always right: In America, this conflict is historic, with results as glorious as the mass protests of the civil rights movement and as inglorious as the armed violence of the militia movement. In an impassioned defense of dissent, Stephen L. Carter argues for the dialogue that negotiates this conflict and keeps democracy alive. His book portrays an America dying from a refusal to engage in such a dialogue, a polity where everybody speaks, but nobody listens.

The Dissent of the Governed is an eloquent diagnosis of what ails the American body politic—the unwillingness of people in power to hear disagreement unless forced to—and a prescription for a new process of response. Carter examines the divided American political character on dissent, with special reference to religion, identifying it in unexpected places, with an eye toward amending it before it destroys our democracy.

At the heart of this work is a rereading of the Declaration of Independence that puts dissent, not consent, at the center of the question of the legitimacy of democratic government. Carter warns that our liberal constitutional ethos—the tendency to assume that the nation must everywhere be morally the same—pressures citizens to be other than themselves when being themselves would lead to disobedience. This tendency, he argues, is particularly hard on religious citizens, whose notion of community may be quite different from that of the sovereign majority of citizens. His book makes a powerful case for the autonomy of communities—especially but not exclusively religious—into which democratic citizens organize themselves as a condition for dissent, dialogue, and independence. With reference to a number of cases, Carter shows how disobedience is sometimes necessary to the heartbeat of our democracy—and how the distinction between challenging accepted norms and challenging the sovereign itself, a distinction crucial to the Declaration of Independence, must be kept alive if Americans are to progress and prosper as a nation.

This book explores the dimensions of medieval monastic meditation, prayer, and contemplation in the heyday of Benedictine and Cistercian spiritual writing, the eleventh and twelfth centuries. Mancia aims to answer the following questions: What did extra-liturgical prayer and meditation look like for medieval monks and nuns in western medieval Europe? When, where, and how was it practised? Was there a set way to engage with monastic meditation, or were there a variety of medieval monastic meditative experiences in the eleventh and twelfth centuries? What did monks and nuns perceive as the limitations of monastic prayer and meditation, and how did they understand their own imperfections and failures to perform "perfect" devotion? What extra-textual tools—art, manuscripts, diagrams, spaces—did monks and nuns rely upon to stimulate their practices of meditation? What does monastic meditation reveal about the emotional lives of Benedictine and Cistercian monks and nuns in the high Middle Ages? And, finally, what does the monastic struggle to pursue a prayerful Christian life have to teach the secular world of the twenty-first century?

Christian persons today might seek spiritual development and ponder the benefit of mindfulness exercises but also maintain concerns if they perceive such exercises to originate from other religious traditions. Such persons may not be aware of a long tradition of meditation practice in Christianity that promotes personal growth. This spiritual tradition receives a careful formulation by Christian mo- nastic authors in the twelfth century. One such teaching on meditation is found in the treatise De consideratione written by St. Bernard of Clairvaux (d. 1153) to Pope Eugene III (d. 1153). In textual passages where St. Bernard exhibits a clear concern for the mental health of the Pope (due to numerous ongoing ecclesial, political, and military problems), St. Bernard reminds Eugene III of his original monastic vocation and the meditation exercises associated with that vocation. The advice that St. Bernard gives to Eugene III can be received today in a way that provides a structure for Christian meditation practice which is relevant for personal develop- ment, spiritual direction, and civil psychotherapy that integrates a client’s spirituality into the course of treatment. St. Bernard thus might be interpreted as a teacher of a kind of Christian mindfulness that can benefit both a person’s mental health as well as a person’s relationship with God. Meditation as Spiritual Therapy examines the historical context of Bernard’s work, his purpose for writing it, as well as the numerous Christian sources he drew upon to formulate his teaching. Bernard’s teaching on the course of meditation itself is explored in depth and in dialogue with his other treatises, letters, and sermons. Lastly, a contemporary summary of Bernard’s teaching is provided with reflections concerning the relationship of this teaching to contemporary spiritual direction and spiritually integrated civil psychotherapy.

These quiet, surprising, amazing poems deliver to the reader fresh contact with wisdom for life––lessons we should have known had we paused a little more and looked, things we may have known and lost track of, insights we perhaps sense and now can finally grasp with these words of Moling––of Paul Murray––sharing with us his thoughts, his prayers, his stories of struggle and grace. These poems are “the hidden lost language of the soul” revealed.
Jeremy Driscoll, O.S.B. Abbot of Mount Angel Abbey
 
Paul Murray’s poetry is always a miracle of compression and economy without ever seeming sparse or austere. These luminous meditative pieces have the richness that comes from an intent focus on the everyday and the material as carrying immeasurable grace.
Rowan Williams, Former Archbishop of Canterbury

The present work contains poems and meditations voiced by Paul Murray for Moling, an Irish monk and poet of the 7th century. In the Irish tradition, Moling is the figure who most resembles St Francis of Assisi. He is a man, a saint, whose presence resists linear history, who yet walks toward us in wonder and myth. In Moling in Meditation, the poems, though quiet in their form and expression, represent nevertheless a fresh and, at times, bold exploration of states of soul and psyche which, in almost every age, accompany the spiritual journey. 
 

This book’s six essays pertain to the “piercing of the clouds,” or the experience of heavenly mysteries, which characterizes lectio divina practiced well. Moreover, these peer-reviewed essays give special attention to the practice of lectio divina during preparation for ministry, especially the ministry of Catholic priests. That being said, any current or prospective Bible-reader may profit from this book; most of its content applies to Catholic seminarians and literate Christians alike. Here follow brief descriptions of each chapter. Laurence Kriegshauser, OSB, begins the book with a chapter on the Western monastic tradition of lectio divina and seminary formation, including an historical survey of lectio divina, a description of its characteristics, and reflections on its practice in seminaries. Michael Magee reflects upon the implications of exegetical method for lectio divina, with a comparison and critique of three commentaries’ treatments of John 6. Konrad Schaefer, OSB, advocates for fostering growth and formation through lectio divina, beginning his chapter with a description of its theological underpinnings and then taking up some practical considerations for students. Marcin Kowalski focuses on meditatio of lectio divina following upon exegesis-informed lectio, with an examination of Romans 7:7–25 as a test case. Daniel Keating examines oratio and contemplatio (and actio) of lectio divina, giving attention to theologians from twelfth-century Carthusian Prior Guigo II to Pope Benedict XVI. Anthony Giambrone, OP, contributes the final essay, on searching the Scriptures and the mystery of preaching. For him, exquisitio (intellectual engagement) leads to supplicatio (prayerful supplication), which culminates in praedicatio (preaching).

Since we discovered that, in Tocqueville’s words, “the incomplete joys of this world will never satisfy the heart,” how have we Americans made do? In The Real American Dream one of the nation’s premier literary scholars searches out the symbols and stories by which Americans have reached for something beyond worldly desire. A spiritual history ranging from the first English settlements to the present day, the book is also a lively, deeply learned meditation on hope.

Andrew Delbanco tells of the stringent God of Protestant Christianity, who exerted immense force over the language, institutions, and customs of the culture for nearly 200 years. He describes the falling away of this God and the rise of the idea of a sacred nation-state. And, finally, he speaks of our own moment, when symbols of nationalism are in decline, leaving us with nothing to satisfy the longing for transcendence once sustained by God and nation.

From the Christian story that expressed the earliest Puritan yearnings to New Age spirituality, apocalyptic environmentalism, and the multicultural search for ancestral roots that divert our own, The Real American Dream evokes the tidal rhythm of American history. It shows how Americans have organized their days and ordered their lives—and ultimately created a culture—to make sense of the pain, desire, pleasure, and fear that are the stuff of human experience. In a time of cultural crisis, when the old stories seem to be faltering, this book offers a lesson in the painstaking remaking of the American dream.