Thomas a Kempis and the Modern Devotion

The Imitation of Christ is the most widely read and best-loved religious books in the world, aside from the Bible. As early as 1450, more than 250 manuscript copies had been produced; by 1779, no less than 1,800 editions and translations and today, it is inestimable how many have been circulated.

A #2 all-time spot in history (behind only the Bible, no less) for a book that is six hundred years old is nothing to sneeze at. But what makes a spiritual classic such as The Imitation so timeless and enduring? Even more curious is that while we typically vet works through their authorship (St. Thomas with the Summa, St. Augustine with his Confessions, St. Teresa with the The Interior Castle, etc), Thomas à Kempis is a rather obscure figure in history and his religious monument in The Imitation seems to stand confidently on its own two feet apart from his authorship. He is not recognized as a canonized saint--and yet his insight into and expositions on the Christian spiritual life has formed countless others who have been crowned with glory in the Church Triumphant. "That others may become holier than I, provided that I may become as holy as I should," as prayed in the Litany of Humility.

Born in Kempen, Germany, Thomas Haemerken entered religious life at the monastery of Mount St. Agnes near Zwolle in 1406 and was ordained a priest seven years later at the age of forty-three. But prior to this period he had, as a young boy of twelve, become associated with a community of believers known as "The Brothers of the Common Life," followers of what was referred to as the modern devotion. This was not a religious order, but an association of the faithful determined to live their lives in imitation of the the lives of the early Christians; followers lived in their own homes and their chief aim was to deepen the religious life and promote sound learning as a cure for the religious laxity of the day. They also referred to their way of life as the "modern devotion" to distinguish it from a the pretentious mysticism adopted by many during this period. 

In some interesting parallels, religious life and culture in Germany in the 15th century was not too different from our own today--confusing, tumultuous, and rife with dissensions both in the Church replete with anti-Popes and the monasteries alike. Utrecht was under interdict by Pope Martin V because of episcopal appointment disputes between the citizenry and the Holy See. Thomas' order chose exile rather than disobedience to the Pope and relocated to Harlingen in 1429.    

The influence of the modern devotion of Thomas a Kempis was not without criticism. Though approved by Pope St. Gregory XI in 1376, they were regarded as dangerous reformers by some who were threatened by their sincere way of life. It is also reminiscent of the situation of Fr. Jean Pierre de Caussade, who in the early 18th century seemed to flirt dangerously close in Abandonment to Divine Providence with the heresy of Quietism concerning his idea of the "sacrament of the present moment." The potential for censure of Caussade's writing was compounded by the fact that the Jesuit Miguel de Molinos wrote The Spiritual Guide in a similar vein a few decades prior, and yet actually did fall into this error (unlike de Caussade) and was jailed by the Inquisition for practicing heretical doctrines.      

Others saw the vision and way of life of the Brotherhood of modern devotion as overemphasizing piety while downplaying doctrine and even intellectualism, so that there was, as Fr. Philip Hughes notes in History of the Church "nothing specifically, necessarily, Catholic" about this piety. He goes on to add,

"Once the direction of so delicate a thing as the devotio moderna passes into the hands of those unlearned in theology, all manner of deviation is possible. It can become a cult of what is merely naturally good, a thing no worse--but no more spiritual--than, say, the cult of kindness, courtesy, tidiness and the like. And what the master, unwittingly, is soon really teaching is himself; he is the hero his disciples are worshipping."

Perhaps this is the grace given to à Kempis, for The Imitation of Christ is far from elevating the self or the teaching of the author above the work. If anything, the fact that everyone knows The Imitation but so few know anything about its author is perhaps a testament to this divine shrouding from a cult of personality. It may also be why The Imitation has such widespread appeal to religious believers of all walks of faith--though thoroughly Catholic (and written for monks, by a monk), the intentional emphasis is on distrust of self, piety and devotion, and backed up with over 850 scriptural passages rather than a narrow doctrinal or overtly Catholic framework. Like Abandonment to Divine Providence and its practical, every day mysticism, The Imitation of Christ places its emphasis on the fundamentals at the expense of other things that are no less important but yet are not given primacy of place. This does not make it less Catholic or less orthodox, though one could critique it on those grounds. 

I'm sometimes criticized in my writing for either being too trad-centric or not traditional enough. I find that like a Kempis and Caussade, it can be a tenuous needle to thread and a tough tightrope to walk in the current culture in the Church today where you can get dangerously close to the edge of an abyss. Many in our own day and age, otherwise good and orthodox Catholics, have inadvertently fallen into heresy and error when it comes to what they espouse about the the pope, the papacy, and authority. Others have gone overboard in mystical and apparitional deception, while others have just straight up walked away from the Faith. It's not the 14th century, and our circumstances and challenges may be different, but they are no less difficult to navigate; and not just for me, but all of us.

We have to remember that the vast majority of believers in the Church today are not theologians or professional religious or mystics. They are lay folks trying to navigate during confusing times in both the world and the Church when both orthodoxy and Catholic identity is in crisis. We need a kind of modern devotion for our age which does not center on cults of personalities or esoteric movements but gets to the heart and root of things, which is not beyond any of us--a devoted prayer life, the Sacraments, works of charity, scriptural reading, reverent worship, deep trust, and bold witness. It is modern because we live in the modern world while living out an ancient faith and imitation. It is devotional because of the One we serve.  

The Imitation of Christ and Abandonment to Divine Providence are different spiritual classics, obviously, but written with a similar ethos. If I could only have two books on my book shelf, it would be these two because more than any other works, they speak to me in my state of life and there is a reason why I go back to both of these books again and again. I'm just a common layperson here on the ground, but I know the hope of Heaven is not beyond me. They also help to remind me more, in my own writing, to try to get out of the way as much as possible. I'm not always good about that, but I'm learning and trying hard. After all, the work is what endures and becomes the monument, even after the author has passed away. 

Related: an interview in which I talk about why I wrote Wisdom and Folly and my vision for a "Third Way" of living out the Faith (just so I don't have to write a separate post)

Shaken, Not Affirmed

About fifteen years ago I was driving to work and came inches from being sideswiped at an intersection. I'm sure my Guardian Angel was working a double that day. When I got into my office it took me an hour or so to calm down--I was visibly shook up from almost being T-boned; my day could have looked very different were something not have stopped me at that intersection before pulling out. Death smelled my cologne, but I was still here. Everything seemed brighter that day.

It occurred to me  that I can't for the life of me remember the last time I came out of Mass feeling that way. And that's an indictment, not a positive. I have never heard a homily from the pulpit that stayed with me, that I couldn't shake, that kept me up at night. Most of what we hear every Sunday and Holy Day is safely forgettable. Why waste your time reading an easily forgettable book; you want one that you throw across the room. 

I don't know why that is apart from the fact that it is easier to deliver middle-road sermons--just enough to make us pause for a moment while still allowing us off the hook so that we don't have to actually change when we leave Mass, all the while avoiding any blow back from parishioners that might not like what you have to say.  

I remember a friend and fellow member of our parish telling me he went to a retreat that Fr. Isaac Mary Relyea was doing at the local Society chapel. He went because his wife told him he should go. He hadn't been to Confession in over thirty years, and yet the opportunity presented itself at this retreat and he moseyed into the confessional. Fr. Isaac reemed him a new one--and it was precisely what he needed to be awoken from his self-assured slumber. He's straight on the narrow now. He got shaken, not affirmed.

In the car on the way home from a friend's house today I had the scriptures on audio as I do when I'm driving. I was listening to the Letter to the Hebrews and the Lord spoke thus,

 

For whom the Lord loveth, he chastiseth; and he scourgeth every son whom he receiveth.

Persevere under discipline. God dealeth with you as with his sons; for what son is there, whom the father doth not correct?

But if you be without chastisement, whereof all are made partakers, then are you bastards, and not sons.

Moreover we have had fathers of our flesh, for instructors, and we reverenced them: shall we not much more obey the Father of spirits, and live?

And they indeed for a few days, according to their own pleasure, instructed us: but he, for our profit, that we might receive his sanctification.

Now all chastisement for the present indeed seemeth not to bring with it joy, but sorrow: but afterwards it will yield, to them that are exercised by it, the most peaceable fruit of justice.

Wherefore lift up the hands which hang down, and the feeble knees,

And make straight steps with your feet: that no one, halting, may go out of the way; but rather be healed. 

(Heb 12:7-13, DRV)

And verses 26-28 (in the KJV version, which is all the library had for the NT):

Whose voice then shook the earth: but now he hath promised, saying, Yet once more I shake not the earth only, but also heaven.

And this word, Yet once more, signifieth the removing of those things that are shaken, as of things that are made, that those things which cannot be shaken may remain.

Wherefore we receiving a kingdom which cannot be moved, let us have grace, whereby we may serve God acceptably with reverence and godly fear:

When Christ expired, the temple was shaken and torn in two. This is what should happen to our souls and consciences at the Holy Sacrifice, by the nature of the sacrifice and the Word, but also by the sermon from the pulpit which is usually nothing but a wasted opportunity to burn and sear the sheep. 

Priests typically see their flock for an hour once a week, and they have ten minutes within that hour to reset a wayward trajectory--and 99% of the time, they let it fall fallow. They let the hands of the parishioners stay comfortably in the lap, rather than shake them so that their hands drop and their knees go feeble (v. 12). Without chastisement, you have no true father--you are a bastard (v. 8). 

I don't care what it is, use it--the sin of contraception, fornication, co-habitation, presumption, receiving Communion in a state of mortal sin, lack of Confession, gossip--there's no shortage of comfortable sins 90% of Catholics are sitting like babies in a warm pool in. Most of your flock are affirmed and gently cajoled and asleep at the wheel careening off a spiritual cliff getting ready to be ejected from the mouth of the Lord (Rev 3:16). For God's sake, use that ten minutes to shake and beat them like a true father. If they are walking out the same way they came in, you are not doing your job, or at least not all of it. 

I make the analogy that since so many people are blind and asleep, you need to throw cold water in their face to shock them, then split em open. When the temple is torn in two, lob the seed of the Gospel in with the might of your arm so that it drops down in a deep recess. When they come to and are sewn back up by the world, that seed is going to sprout from somewhere deep--it may not be that day or that year, but when God calls it forth. Your job is not to sprout the seed--it's to rototill with your sermon, split the earth and sow in the furrow. 

Be a father; don't tell them what they want to hear, or what won't rock the boat, or what will keep the donations flowing. Split them open, shake the hell out of them, let them leave. We get enough affirmation from the world, we don't need it from the pulpit. You shake them now so that they will not be shaken later. For the Lord will remove those things that are shaken, that those things that can not be shaken will remain (Heb 12:27). 

On The Lack of Solace And Comfort

"It is not hard to spurn human consolation when we have the divine. It is, however, a very great thing indeed to be able to live without either divine or human comforting and for the honor of God willingly to endure this exile of heart, not to seek oneself in anything, and to think nothing of one’s own merit.

Does it matter much, if at the coming of grace, you are cheerful and devout? This is an hour desired by all, for he whom the grace of God sustains travels easily enough. What wonder if he feel no burden when borne up by the Almighty and led on by the Supreme Guide! For we are always glad to have something to comfort us, and only with difficulty does a man divest himself of self.

The holy martyr, Lawrence, with his priest, conquered the world because he despised everything in it that seemed pleasing to him, and for love of Christ patiently suffered the great high priest of God, Sixtus, whom he loved dearly, to be taken from him. Thus, by his love for the Creator he overcame the love of man, and chose instead of human consolation the good pleasure of God. So you, too, must learn to part with an intimate and much-needed friend for the love of God. Do not take it to heart when you are deserted by a friend, knowing that in the end we must all be parted from one another.

A man must fight long and bravely against himself before he learns to master himself fully and to direct all his affections toward God. When he trusts in himself, he easily takes to human consolation. The true lover of Christ, however, who sincerely pursues virtue, does not fall back upon consolations nor seek such pleasures of sense, but prefers severe trials and hard labors for the sake of Christ.

When, therefore, spiritual consolation is given by God, receive it gratefully, but understand that it is His gift and not your meriting. Do not exult, do not be overjoyed, do not be presumptuous, but be the humbler for the gift, more careful and wary in all your actions, for this hour will pass and temptation will come in its wake.

When consolation is taken away, do not at once despair but wait humbly and patiently for the heavenly visit, since God can restore to you more abundant solace.

This is neither new nor strange to one who knows God’s ways, for such change of fortune often visited the great saints and prophets of old. Thus there was one who, when grace was with him, declared: “In my prosperity I said: “˜ I shall never be moved.’” But when grace was taken away, he adds what he experienced in himself: “Thou didst hide Thy face, and I was troubled.” Meanwhile he does not despair; rather he prays more earnestly to the Lord, saying: “To Thee, O Lord, will I cry; and I will make supplication to my God.” At length, he receives the fruit of his prayer, and testifying that he was heard, says “The Lord hath heard, and hath had mercy on me: the Lord became my helper.” And how was he helped? “Thou hast turned,” he says, “my mourning into joy, and hast surrounded me with gladness.”15

If this is the case with great saints, we who are weak and poor ought not to despair because we are fervent at times and at other times cold, for the spirit comes and goes according to His will. Of this the blessed Job declared: “Thou visitest him early in the morning, and Thou provest him suddenly.”16

In what can I hope, then, or in whom ought I trust, save only in the great mercy of God and the hope of heavenly grace? For though I have with me good men, devout brethren, faithful friends, holy books, beautiful treatises, sweet songs and hymns, all these help and please but little when I am abandoned by grace and left to my poverty. At such times there is no better remedy than patience and resignation of self to the will of God.

I have never met a man so religious and devout that he has not experienced at some time a withdrawal of grace and felt a lessening of fervor. No saint was so sublimely rapt and enlightened as not to be tempted before and after. He, indeed, is not worthy of the sublime contemplation of God who has not been tried by some tribulation for the sake of God. For temptation is usually the sign preceding the consolation that is to follow, and heavenly consolation is promised to all those proved by temptation. “To him that overcometh,” says Christ, “I will give to eat of the Tree of Life.”17 Divine consolation, then, is given in order to make a man braver in enduring adversity, and temptation follows in order that he may not pride himself on the good he has done.

The devil does not sleep, nor is the flesh yet dead; therefore, you must never cease your preparation for battle, because on the right and on the left are enemies who never rest.

(Imitation of Christ, Book 2, Chapter 9)