Thomas à Kempis and the Modern Devotion

The Imitation of Christ is among the most widely read and best-loved religious books in the world. As early as 1450, more than 250 manuscript copies had been produced; by 1779, no less than 1,800 editions and translations existed; 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 Aquinas with the Summa, St. Augustine with his Confessions, St. Teresa with 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 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 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 à 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 A 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—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.  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.Tweet This

I’m sometimes criticized in my writing for either being too trad-centric or not traditional enough. I find, like à Kempis and Caussade, that 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 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 for 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 layfolk trying to navigate during confusing times in both the world and the Church when both orthodoxy and Catholic identity are in crisis. We need a kind of modern devotion for our age which does not center on cults of personality 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 both are written with a similar ethos. If I could only have two books on my bookshelf, it would be these two. 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.