The Imitation of
Christ, which
might be the most popular work of Christian devotion ever written, attracting
innumerable readers from both the Catholic and Protestant traditions, is
traditionally ascribed to the authorship of Thomas à Kempis. The work was
intentionally left anonymous in its initial composition and circulation, but
most scholars are agreed that Thomas à Kempis is the best leading candidate for
the author of this text, for several reasons: it appears to be written from the
perspective of a monk toward his fellow monks, to derive from the tradition of
the “New Devotion,” and to have an author familiar with Dutch idioms. All of
these fit Thomas à Kempis better than the other leading candidates (such as
Jean Gerson, a contemporary theology professor). Kempis himself, born around
1380, was a monk in the Brotherhood of the Common Life, a fairly recent
movement at the time of his joining (the early fifteenth century), based in the
Netherlands and practicing a new wave of re-invigorated spirituality called the
New Devotion. He served most of his life as a monk in the community of Mount St
Agnes near Zwolle, and authored nearly three dozen other devotional works
before his death in 1471.
The Imitation of
Christ is
divided into four books, with the third part forming the core (and largest)
section of the text. The first two books consist of counsel and instructions
for how best to pursue “the interior life” of Christian devotion. The third
book introduces a new form, wherein Christ himself and “the disciple” hold a
dialogue about the monastic life, spiritual growth, and interior contemplation.
The fourth book continues the dialogue format but is unique in that it is
focused entirely on the spirituality of the Eucharist, and how the practice of
Communion assists the disciple in his or her spiritual growth.
Within
these four books, aside from the fourth’s particular focus on the Eucharist,
there is no overarching paradigm to give a sense of framework or progression.
Rather, the text has the feel of a series of talks with a spiritual director.
In the first two books, it is Thomas à Kempis himself giving direct counsel to
the reader; and in books three and four it is a conversation between Jesus and
the disciple. In both cases, however, one gets the sense of the book being a
compilation of short consultations on various subjects, much as a monk in the
New Devotion would have had whenever he went to meet with his abbot, prior, or
spiritual director. Thus, each short section focuses on a separate question of
spiritual perspective or devotional practice. While such a format might lead
one to think that the content of the book would be varied and unconnected, in
actual fact the sections of counsel are bound closely together by repeated
themes, perspectives, and subject matter.
Several
of these repeated themes are worth closer examination. One of the most oft-repeated
themes of The Imitation of Christ is
that sincere personal devotion towards God is more important than theoretical
knowledge of God. Written in an age that was living in the shadow of the
titanic legacy of the scholastic theologians, The Imitation of Christ was clearly intended in part as a
corrective to some of the dangerous tendencies of exalting academic theology
while ignoring individual devotion. Another prominent theme, perhaps connected
to the first (in the sense that the glorification of knowledge can lead to the
very real dangers of pride), is a call to radical humility. There is nothing
revolutionary about regarding humility as a core Christian virtue, but The Imitation of Christ is notable for
the fierce extent to which it counsels Christians to follow the path of
humility. Its advice sounds strange to modern ears, schooled in the value of
self-esteem, but Thomas à Kempis does not hesitate to advise not only that we
must be humble, but that in practical terms this means considering others as
being better than ourselves.
These
themes are part of an overall view in The
Imitation of Christ towards conceiving of true Christian devotion in a
manner that stresses the value of ascetic discipline and continual
self-abnegation, not for the sake of asceticism alone, but for the sake of
inflaming personal love for Christ. Thus Thomas à Kempis advises his readers to
empty themselves not only of the vices of which they are aware, but to guard
against the very root of vices by removing basic consolations from their lives
(physical and relational comforts) and by revoking the authority of their own
individual wills (by entirely submitting their wills to a spiritual director).
Again, though, the primary focus of The
Imitation of Christ is not on these acts of self-abnegation themselves, but
rather on the goal toward which they tend: the soul’s desire for God and
submission to Christ.
The
modern reader will likely have a difficult time with The Imitation of Christ, at least at first. It runs against the
grain of many of our foundational cultural assumptions, such as the importance
of positive self-esteem and the value of the individual will. As such, The Imitation of Christ will strike many
readers as wildly foreign, perhaps even dangerously off-kilter in the way that
it advises a path of complete self-abnegation, to the point of viewing oneself
as “lower than everyone else.” However, when one takes the time to understand
the cultural context of The Imitation of
Christ, and particularly the fact that it was written for use by late
medieval monks, some of the value of this advice comes into clearer focus.
Indeed, a careful reader who is familiar with the Bible will likely find
convicting echoes of the Apostle Paul’s relational theology in these counsels,
reminding us that Paul taught Christians to “not think of yourselves more
highly than you ought,” to “honor one another above yourself,” and that he regarded
himself as “the worst of sinners,” and advised this self-perception as worthy
of all Christians everywhere (Rom. 12:3, 10; 1 Tim. 1:15-16). As such, The Imitation of Christ offers a
necessary and very biblical corrective to some of the dangerous assumptions of
contemporary culture. Likewise, although Thomas à Kempis’ counsels for
self-abnegation might strike us as strange or overreaching nowadays, they are
actually firmly within the mainstream tradition of Christian monastic
spirituality.
Another
criticism sometimes leveled against The
Imitation of Christ is that it does not rise beyond the level of a mere
compilation of spiritual counsels. While there is some basis to this, given the
format of the book and the lack of an overarching structure, there are also
themes that bind the whole together in a cohesive manner. In addition to the
themes already mentioned, perhaps the most important binding theme of the text,
which is brought out in its fullness during the dialogue between Christ and the
disciple in the third book, is the theme from which the work derives its name: Christian
spirituality is all about imitating Christ. Thus, just as Christ emptied
himself, humbled himself, and suffered, so Christians must seek to follow the
same path if they truly want to know Christ. Though this book bears the most
well-known association of all Christian works with the idea of imitating
Christ, largely due to its title, the conception of the Christian life as imitatio Christi was in fact a common
element of the many devotio movements
of the Middle Ages, including the New Devotion, all of which sought to follow a
Christocentric pattern marked by “a peculiarly active or ritual sense of
devotion.”
Nonetheless,
it can be argued that The Imitation of
Christ, in seeking to be a corrective to the lukewarm, prideful nature of
much fifteenth-century monasticism, it might in some cases swing the pendulum a
bit too far to the other extreme. While its counsels against the dangers of
seeking knowledge for intellectual vanity are true enough, one might like to
see this balanced with an admission of the deep value of academic theology for
the church and for individual devotion. Likewise, one of the consolations that
Thomas à Kempis advises his readers to give up is a reliance on earthly
relationships and friendships. While this is not out of the ordinary for
monastic literature (John of the Cross, a century later, wrote very much in the
same vein), one would like to see an admission of the many benefits and
blessings that come from Christian friendship and fellowship. Further, for the
Protestant reader, many of the devotional reflections in the fourth book will
sound exceedingly strange; but this dissonance is due almost entirely to the
difference between Catholics’ and (most) Protestants’ theologies of the
Eucharist. All such critiques, however, are fairly minor when considering the
scope of this work, which retains its well-deserved reputation as one of the
greatest Christian classics of all time due to its singular, unwavering focus
on developing a deep, unselfish, sincere love for Christ as the heart of true
devotion.