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The Imitation of Christ
Thomas a Kempis' The Imitation of Christ, first published in the early 15th century, is one of the most read devotional works. This edition is translated by William Benham, and includes a table of contents.
238 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 1, 1427
About the author
Thomas à Kempis
582 books410 followersThomas Hammerken (or Hammerlein -- both mean "little hammer") / Thomas de Kempis / Thomas Hamerken von Kempen was born at Kempen (hence the "A Kempis") in the duchy of Cleves in Germany around 1380. He was educated by a religious order called the Brethren of the Common Life, and in due course joined the order, was ordained a priest, became sub-prior of his house (in the low Countries), and died 25 July 1471 (his feast is observed a day early to avoid conflict with that of James bar-Zebedee the Apostle).
Thomas is known almost entirely for composing or compiling a manual of spiritual advice known as The Imitation of Christ, in which he urges the reader to seek to follow the example of Jesus Christ and to be conformed in all things to His will.
Thomas is known almost entirely for composing or compiling a manual of spiritual advice known as The Imitation of Christ, in which he urges the reader to seek to follow the example of Jesus Christ and to be conformed in all things to His will.
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October 16, 2009
‘You can get used to anything,’ chuckled a retired SS captain in a documentary recently about his posting to Auschwitz, after he’d described how the bodies in the gas chambers always formed a perfect pyramid, with its apex at the grille in the roof. We might take issue with this particular instance of ‘anything’, but the fact remains that human beings are amazingly adaptable when it comes to pushing the psychological boundaries. The initial shock of a new and unpleasant experience fairly quickly levels out to a plateau that becomes the new norm.
What we today accept as normal, everyday life would have seemed a vision of hell to a man of the Middle Ages: technology run riot; workers enslaved to capitalism; sex, money and power the presiding deities; religion apparently the preserve of the ignorant, the superficial and the deceived.
The airwaves are creaking like an over-laden galleon under the weight of advice on everything from cosmetic surgery and nutrition to beauty therapies and relationships.
I watched a woman on TV last night having liposuction and extensive, invasive surgery to make her feel happier with her body. The lump of flesh on the operating table, drenched in blood and with two huge wings of fat and skin laid out on either side, made her look like the aftermath of a Viking Blood Eagle execution, or the subject of a tortured painting by Francis Bacon.
It seemed a perfect symbol for the way in which we have lost our way in the materialistic jungle, and certainly if I were Satan I’d be celebrating down the pub – mankind has been successfully hoodwinked, flooded and distracted with gadgets, obsessed with youth, beauty, money and sex, all thoughts of salvation gone out the window.
The purity of the original message from any of the great religions seems to get contaminated as soon as it enters the corrupt medium of the world, so that what we end up with is an idea of the ‘Will of God’ - if it exists at all – as one that is wholly bent on evil, as Umberto Eco suggests in ‘The Name of the Rose’.
There is a need for a return, for a restoration of the spiritual balance without which life is a burden and a struggle, a minimalist drama by Beckett rather than a glorious opera by Mozart. Society will go marching on its self-destructive way, but as individuals we can look out for ourselves and try to rectify the psychic disorders by purifying ourselves of the rubbish that is constantly seeking to make inroads.
Thomas à Kempis’s wonderful book is more relevant today than when it was written. You don’t have to be a Christian or even particularly religious to derive nourishment from it. It hasn’t been out of print for six hundred years, and is worth more than a library of modern ‘self-help’ books.
The Imitation consists of four books on general spiritual topics, each divided into subsections dealing with more focused aspects: ‘On trust in God in all trouble’, ‘On knowing ourselves’, etc. After the Bible itself, no other work can compare with its profound wisdom, clarity of thought, and converting power. Christians of such widely differing period and outlook as Thomas More and General Gordon, Ignatius Loyola and John Wesley, Francis Xavier and Dr Johnson are but a few of the thousands who have acknowledged their debt to this work.
Although à Kempis spent most of his life in the cloister, his burning faith and love of God speak to us on the level of shared humanity. As F.R.Cruise says in his authoritative work on a Kempis, ‘Beyond doubt, the Imitation most perfectly reflects the light which Jesus Christ brought down from heaven to earth, and truthfully portrays the highest Christian philosophy.’
What we today accept as normal, everyday life would have seemed a vision of hell to a man of the Middle Ages: technology run riot; workers enslaved to capitalism; sex, money and power the presiding deities; religion apparently the preserve of the ignorant, the superficial and the deceived.
The airwaves are creaking like an over-laden galleon under the weight of advice on everything from cosmetic surgery and nutrition to beauty therapies and relationships.
I watched a woman on TV last night having liposuction and extensive, invasive surgery to make her feel happier with her body. The lump of flesh on the operating table, drenched in blood and with two huge wings of fat and skin laid out on either side, made her look like the aftermath of a Viking Blood Eagle execution, or the subject of a tortured painting by Francis Bacon.
It seemed a perfect symbol for the way in which we have lost our way in the materialistic jungle, and certainly if I were Satan I’d be celebrating down the pub – mankind has been successfully hoodwinked, flooded and distracted with gadgets, obsessed with youth, beauty, money and sex, all thoughts of salvation gone out the window.
The purity of the original message from any of the great religions seems to get contaminated as soon as it enters the corrupt medium of the world, so that what we end up with is an idea of the ‘Will of God’ - if it exists at all – as one that is wholly bent on evil, as Umberto Eco suggests in ‘The Name of the Rose’.
There is a need for a return, for a restoration of the spiritual balance without which life is a burden and a struggle, a minimalist drama by Beckett rather than a glorious opera by Mozart. Society will go marching on its self-destructive way, but as individuals we can look out for ourselves and try to rectify the psychic disorders by purifying ourselves of the rubbish that is constantly seeking to make inroads.
Thomas à Kempis’s wonderful book is more relevant today than when it was written. You don’t have to be a Christian or even particularly religious to derive nourishment from it. It hasn’t been out of print for six hundred years, and is worth more than a library of modern ‘self-help’ books.
The Imitation consists of four books on general spiritual topics, each divided into subsections dealing with more focused aspects: ‘On trust in God in all trouble’, ‘On knowing ourselves’, etc. After the Bible itself, no other work can compare with its profound wisdom, clarity of thought, and converting power. Christians of such widely differing period and outlook as Thomas More and General Gordon, Ignatius Loyola and John Wesley, Francis Xavier and Dr Johnson are but a few of the thousands who have acknowledged their debt to this work.
Although à Kempis spent most of his life in the cloister, his burning faith and love of God speak to us on the level of shared humanity. As F.R.Cruise says in his authoritative work on a Kempis, ‘Beyond doubt, the Imitation most perfectly reflects the light which Jesus Christ brought down from heaven to earth, and truthfully portrays the highest Christian philosophy.’
September 4, 2011
This is my go-to daily read I've carried around for the last few years, and it never gets old. When I need a good kick in the butt, I read Kempis. His excerpts are short but pack so much truth, and I can't tell you how many times I've just cried over his words as God has used this book to convict me of my self-exaltation and pride, and how the mercy of God meets us in our repentant and contrite hearts.
June 19, 2008
A classic. Not everyone's cup of tea. Demanding and ascetic, the upward road to salvation. No platitudes here and calming words, just the raw grain of uneasy truth. Handle with caution.
March 6, 2023
The Imitation of Christ consists of four ‘books’. One each on:
1.) Good advice on the life of Christian faith;
2.) The interior life of the follower of Christ;
3.) Spiritual comfort; and
4.) Reflections on the Eucharist.
Each of these is further subdivided into anywhere from twelve to fifty-six mini-reflections on related topics. The third and longest book—the one on ‘spiritual comfort’—is my personal favorite. Even though it’s been over forty years since the first time I read Imitation I vividly recall my reaction to ‘hearing’ the ‘voice of Christ’ in these pages. Tears. This book introduced me to the concept of a relationship with Jesus. For a long time after I kept a copy of Imitation close at hand and read (the parts I liked) constantly.
I still cry when I read – or listen to an audio version of – Jesus ‘speaking in the quiet of my heart’ as à Kempis puts it.
Since that first time, I’ve read or listened to this spiritual classic more times than can be remembered. Even when I was turning my back on all things related to God, I went in search of a copy of this book. I was led to a modern translation of it in a little bookstore in Germany, where we were living at the time. That was my favorite translation ever but along the way someone else needed it more, so it’s gone.
I’ve bought this book as gifts for Confirmation and graduation and I’ve tried out several different translations. The older – and yes more literal – ones tend to be a bit off-putting. Thomas à Kempis–the most probable author—was a 14th century monk. It was a different era. They took their spirituality seriously back then. Well some did anyway. If they were genuine and the author of Imitation seems to be the real deal.
So how much of it is applicable to modern people living in the world? I guess it depends on you. You can always get yourself a copy and just read what appeals to you. A place to begin might be where Jesus tells how much He loves you, how good God is and how to look for lasting peace and consolation in Him. Once you fully saturate yourself in the mercy and love of God, then maybe you’ll be ready to move on to some of the more challenging lessons. Nothing says the book has to be read in order.
For some years now I listen to this audio version while driving or crocheting. It’s an excellent modern translation. I can also recommend The Heart and Soul of Imitating Christ: A Fresh Look at the Thomas a Kempis Classic. I keep that with my Bible.
The Imitation of Christ is the most popular devotional after Holy Scripture.
Most highly recommended.
January 2023: I don't know how many versions of this book I have-large print, paperback, hardcover, audio and kindle-but this time around I'm using my small hardbound copy and reading a page or two before bed, as my patron St. Therese used to do. As I got closer to the end, I started to read more than one chapter at a time, one not being enough. It had been more than a few years since I had read this and I do not want to wait so long between reads next time.
1.) Good advice on the life of Christian faith;
2.) The interior life of the follower of Christ;
3.) Spiritual comfort; and
4.) Reflections on the Eucharist.
Each of these is further subdivided into anywhere from twelve to fifty-six mini-reflections on related topics. The third and longest book—the one on ‘spiritual comfort’—is my personal favorite. Even though it’s been over forty years since the first time I read Imitation I vividly recall my reaction to ‘hearing’ the ‘voice of Christ’ in these pages. Tears. This book introduced me to the concept of a relationship with Jesus. For a long time after I kept a copy of Imitation close at hand and read (the parts I liked) constantly.
I still cry when I read – or listen to an audio version of – Jesus ‘speaking in the quiet of my heart’ as à Kempis puts it.
Since that first time, I’ve read or listened to this spiritual classic more times than can be remembered. Even when I was turning my back on all things related to God, I went in search of a copy of this book. I was led to a modern translation of it in a little bookstore in Germany, where we were living at the time. That was my favorite translation ever but along the way someone else needed it more, so it’s gone.
I’ve bought this book as gifts for Confirmation and graduation and I’ve tried out several different translations. The older – and yes more literal – ones tend to be a bit off-putting. Thomas à Kempis–the most probable author—was a 14th century monk. It was a different era. They took their spirituality seriously back then. Well some did anyway. If they were genuine and the author of Imitation seems to be the real deal.
So how much of it is applicable to modern people living in the world? I guess it depends on you. You can always get yourself a copy and just read what appeals to you. A place to begin might be where Jesus tells how much He loves you, how good God is and how to look for lasting peace and consolation in Him. Once you fully saturate yourself in the mercy and love of God, then maybe you’ll be ready to move on to some of the more challenging lessons. Nothing says the book has to be read in order.
For some years now I listen to this audio version while driving or crocheting. It’s an excellent modern translation. I can also recommend The Heart and Soul of Imitating Christ: A Fresh Look at the Thomas a Kempis Classic. I keep that with my Bible.
The Imitation of Christ is the most popular devotional after Holy Scripture.
Most highly recommended.
January 2023: I don't know how many versions of this book I have-large print, paperback, hardcover, audio and kindle-but this time around I'm using my small hardbound copy and reading a page or two before bed, as my patron St. Therese used to do. As I got closer to the end, I started to read more than one chapter at a time, one not being enough. It had been more than a few years since I had read this and I do not want to wait so long between reads next time.
July 28, 2010
Truly, this is a 1.5 star book in my record, but I didn't have the option. Although one of the most popular books in Christian literary history, I found this text difficult to connect with because of the jabbing absolutes and insistence on isolation. Kempis' Christianity resounds with joylessness; and as one member of our book group commented, he comes across as the kind likely to be disappointed by heaven.
The overwhelming theme of the text is suffering, that is, imitating Christ through suffering. Many times in the text, this point crescendos to suffering for the sake of suffering, rather than for any particular religious goal. Perhaps that impression stems from his lack of balance in describing Christian humility and our post-salvation predicament. Kempis endorses a life void of rejoicing in one's salvation, and suggests that to do so would imply haughtiness of spirit and a lack of contempt for sin. He also emphasizes disdain for the world, that the more mature one becomes in their faith, the more one should enjoy suffering and despise both self and world.
While I agree that humility is a difficult virtue to exist alongside human intellect, as humanity is always inventing ways to be impressed with itself, I cannot endorse Kempis' view that the world and self should be completely despised. Scripture tells us that the Kingdom of God is NOW, not just in the future, but occurring since Jesus began his ministry and finding its fulfillment in heaven. Why Kempis avoids this discussion, I do not know. However, if God is able to reside in my own heart, then there is that part of me which should never be despised.
Kempis also insist on solitude in the Christian life, and while it is true that we all eventually fail one another due to our own sinful imperfections, nowhere in scripture do I find solitude and isolation endorsed. Kempis says that one should seek God not above others, but instead of others. Again, this avoids a scriptural discussion on the body of Christ and our needs and obligations to others. Again and again, scripture resounds with the reminder that we cannot exist outside of community. Which, I suppose, is why even the monks retired from the world in the company of others.
The emphasis on suffering was a good reminder that adversity is, indeed, a guarantee of the Christian life (of any life, for that matter); and Kempis' insistence on faithfulness in the experience of suffering is a needed reminder for today's feel-good age. Also enjoyable, and boosting my review from 1 to 1.5 stars, is the end portion on communion. Reading Kempis' guide to communion preparation reminds the spirit of what a contrite posture feels like, and helps one bend into that impossible pose.
Overall, this is not a book I enjoyed reading, but my own disagreements with the text were quite stimulating. Perhaps that is the aim of Thomas a Kempis' impossible absolutes.
The overwhelming theme of the text is suffering, that is, imitating Christ through suffering. Many times in the text, this point crescendos to suffering for the sake of suffering, rather than for any particular religious goal. Perhaps that impression stems from his lack of balance in describing Christian humility and our post-salvation predicament. Kempis endorses a life void of rejoicing in one's salvation, and suggests that to do so would imply haughtiness of spirit and a lack of contempt for sin. He also emphasizes disdain for the world, that the more mature one becomes in their faith, the more one should enjoy suffering and despise both self and world.
While I agree that humility is a difficult virtue to exist alongside human intellect, as humanity is always inventing ways to be impressed with itself, I cannot endorse Kempis' view that the world and self should be completely despised. Scripture tells us that the Kingdom of God is NOW, not just in the future, but occurring since Jesus began his ministry and finding its fulfillment in heaven. Why Kempis avoids this discussion, I do not know. However, if God is able to reside in my own heart, then there is that part of me which should never be despised.
Kempis also insist on solitude in the Christian life, and while it is true that we all eventually fail one another due to our own sinful imperfections, nowhere in scripture do I find solitude and isolation endorsed. Kempis says that one should seek God not above others, but instead of others. Again, this avoids a scriptural discussion on the body of Christ and our needs and obligations to others. Again and again, scripture resounds with the reminder that we cannot exist outside of community. Which, I suppose, is why even the monks retired from the world in the company of others.
The emphasis on suffering was a good reminder that adversity is, indeed, a guarantee of the Christian life (of any life, for that matter); and Kempis' insistence on faithfulness in the experience of suffering is a needed reminder for today's feel-good age. Also enjoyable, and boosting my review from 1 to 1.5 stars, is the end portion on communion. Reading Kempis' guide to communion preparation reminds the spirit of what a contrite posture feels like, and helps one bend into that impossible pose.
Overall, this is not a book I enjoyed reading, but my own disagreements with the text were quite stimulating. Perhaps that is the aim of Thomas a Kempis' impossible absolutes.
April 27, 2012
It would be difficult to overstate the impact this book has had on me. Yes, it's really, really Catholic. Yes, it's ascetic. No, it's most definitely not pro-woman. Even so, I think Jesus meant it when he said to deny ourselves and take up our crosses daily but mention that to a modern evangelical and watch them recoil in horror. This little book calls the reader to a life of intensity and discipline in following Christ. It's not comforting or particularly warm and it makes no accommodations. You need to do that yourself. it took me 4 years to finish this book because every passage is so incredibly rich that I couldn't take in too much at any one time. Honestly I can't even recommend it to very many people because it's so hard core. If you're a nominal Christian who likes feel-good sermons and that book about the little boy who goes to Heaven, bless you but skip this one. Try Dennis Okholm's "Monk Habits for Everyday People" if you want to get all monastic but think denying yourself means not sleeping in on Sunday. I'm serious, it's a good book. I think I gave it 4 stars. But if you're 100% serious about following Jesus, if knowing God is the highest priority in your life, if you get the concept of willingly plucking out your eye to keep yourself out of Hell, then get this book and read it slowly and carefully. There's a lot of chaff, let that go but hold on tightly to the wheat. It will nourish you.
February 13, 2009
Currently reading and re-reading (for the rest of my life). Anyone who embraces the wisdom in this book and lives by its precepts, will be a happy and content person. Imitation of Christ was written by a Benedictine monk around 1429. The truth he writes of transcends centuries and applies as much to today's modern man/woman as it did back then because it addresses the issues and attitudes that lie in the human heart. Our world will never change until we, collectively, change our heart attitudes.
March 16, 2014
This book is said to be written by a monk for monks. So, it talks about things that a normal human being like me, or probably like most of us who read for pleasure, hard to implement. Common, who among us can abandon our comfortable lives, pack another pair of clothes and join a religious organization just like what St. Francis of Assisi, Beatified Mother Teresa or the disciples of Jesus? For me they are the super-humans who are different from all of us.
I will never claim that I am religious and that I always doubt that if I die now, I will go straight to heaven. Why? Because one thing that I find hard to do or will never ever do is to abandon what comforts I am enjoying now like living away from my wife and daughter and join the monks to pray and serve my fellowmen. I mean, what will happen to my wife and daughter? Especially my daughter who is still studying? She still needs my support and I have a responsibility to her as her father. Jesus said in Mark 20:25 that it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of the needle than for someone rich to enter the kingdom of God. And since it was Jesus who said that that basically is what the first part of The Imitation of Christ, "Helpful Counsels of the Spiritual Life" is all about. Well, aside from the importance of solitude and silence that I always find to have especially during the early mornings when I wake up to urinate and I could not sleep, I grab the rosary in my side of the bed and pray.
The second book "Directives for Inner Life" tells us that we are all passers-by in this world and that being passers-by, we should attribute everything to God. We should take up our cross just like the way Jesus did. If it is work that we consider us our cross, we should work hard and dedicate everything we do in the office to Him rather than to our boss. Everything is fleeting and ephemeral. Everything will pass. Your boss, who does not see your hard work and who is focused on himself or his own agenda will also pass. The job that you think you need will also pass and you will move on. Everything happens for a reason and the important thing is that you live your life based on what God has designed for you. We should open our hearts and accept him. However, again, that is easier said than done. Again, read Mark 20:25.
The third book is my favorite mot only because it is in the form of a dialogue between Jesus and one of his disciples but it can be summarized by one of my favorite biblical passages, John 14:16 that says "I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me." Nothing else is important. If you boss scolds you, refuse to talk back and think of Jesus being the more important person than them (if they are wrong). What Jesus thinks of you is more important than what your boss thinks about you even if he thinks that you suck and you are deserved to be sacked. Don't worry, Jesus who sees the real you will show you the way.
The fourth and final book "On Blessed Sacrament" is also in the form of dialogue just like the third book but it is focused more on the sacraments as the practices that should remind us of Jesus Christ when he was still on earth like the holy mass and the sacred communion. It is through the sacraments that we can form union with Jesus and it is through following Him, through imitating Him that we can have share an eternal life with Him.
I will never claim that I am religious and that I always doubt that if I die now, I will go straight to heaven. Why? Because one thing that I find hard to do or will never ever do is to abandon what comforts I am enjoying now like living away from my wife and daughter and join the monks to pray and serve my fellowmen. I mean, what will happen to my wife and daughter? Especially my daughter who is still studying? She still needs my support and I have a responsibility to her as her father. Jesus said in Mark 20:25 that it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of the needle than for someone rich to enter the kingdom of God. And since it was Jesus who said that that basically is what the first part of The Imitation of Christ, "Helpful Counsels of the Spiritual Life" is all about. Well, aside from the importance of solitude and silence that I always find to have especially during the early mornings when I wake up to urinate and I could not sleep, I grab the rosary in my side of the bed and pray.
The second book "Directives for Inner Life" tells us that we are all passers-by in this world and that being passers-by, we should attribute everything to God. We should take up our cross just like the way Jesus did. If it is work that we consider us our cross, we should work hard and dedicate everything we do in the office to Him rather than to our boss. Everything is fleeting and ephemeral. Everything will pass. Your boss, who does not see your hard work and who is focused on himself or his own agenda will also pass. The job that you think you need will also pass and you will move on. Everything happens for a reason and the important thing is that you live your life based on what God has designed for you. We should open our hearts and accept him. However, again, that is easier said than done. Again, read Mark 20:25.
The third book is my favorite mot only because it is in the form of a dialogue between Jesus and one of his disciples but it can be summarized by one of my favorite biblical passages, John 14:16 that says "I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me." Nothing else is important. If you boss scolds you, refuse to talk back and think of Jesus being the more important person than them (if they are wrong). What Jesus thinks of you is more important than what your boss thinks about you even if he thinks that you suck and you are deserved to be sacked. Don't worry, Jesus who sees the real you will show you the way.
The fourth and final book "On Blessed Sacrament" is also in the form of dialogue just like the third book but it is focused more on the sacraments as the practices that should remind us of Jesus Christ when he was still on earth like the holy mass and the sacred communion. It is through the sacraments that we can form union with Jesus and it is through following Him, through imitating Him that we can have share an eternal life with Him.
July 24, 2008
This book is going to forever be in either of two places in my home; my coffee table or my bedside. Reading this book this morning was like drinking deep of Christ's love. Thomas a Kempis wrote this devotion in such a way to fan the flame in our soul with beautiful gentle words. It is a book that calls one deeper and farther in to the heart of God.Psalm 42:7 sums it up: "Deep calls unto deep at the sound of thy waterfalls; All thy breakers and thy waves have rolled over me.
November 13, 2012
For someone who goes so far wrong sometimes (and he really does), when a Kempis gets things right, he hits the nail dead on the head. There were definitely things that I didn't agree with in this book, but the main, overarching themes -- the supreme importance of God, dying to self, not attaching oneself to earthly things, not pursuing knowledge for knowledge's sake -- are absolute, incontrovertible truth. These ideas can certainly be wrongly applied, and he did definitely stray too far in the direction of asceticism and dualism, but he's still absolutely right when he says, "Help me to know continually that there can be no true happiness, no fulfilling of thy purpose for me, apart from a life lived in and for the Son of thy love." All in all, this was an incredibly helpful and timely book to me, in reminding me where my priorities and affections need to be, and on Whom my security/stability needs to be founded. In spite of its flaws (I won't even get into his ideas about the Eucharist), it spoke to me where I was at, and the Lord used it to solidify some very important lessons in my mind. You just have to chew the meat and spit out the bones -- and after all, that's going to be true of even the best books by the most orthodox authors.
"Oh, if men bestowed as much labor in the rooting out of vices and planting of virtues as they do in proposing questions, there would neither be such great evils and slanders in the world, nor so much looseness among us. Truly, when the day of judgment comes, we shall not be examined as to what we have read, but what we have done (Matt. 25); not how well we have spoken, but how we have lived."
"Oh, if men bestowed as much labor in the rooting out of vices and planting of virtues as they do in proposing questions, there would neither be such great evils and slanders in the world, nor so much looseness among us. Truly, when the day of judgment comes, we shall not be examined as to what we have read, but what we have done (Matt. 25); not how well we have spoken, but how we have lived."
October 12, 2009
If anyone can claim the credentials to be a "card carrying evangelical", it's me. Born and raised Church of the Nazarene. Saved at grandma's Methodist church camp. Baptized, second-act-of-grace santicfication, Youth for Christ trained, Billy Graham crusade foot soldier. It is a membership that lasted well over forty years. But by the end of the 2004 presidential campaign, if there had been somewhere I could go and turn in my card, I would have gladly done so. By that time the word "evangelical" had pretty much lost any sense of religious identification for me. It had been almost completely co-opted by Republican political operatives and Christian Fundamentalists with whom I had little or no sense of theological community.
In retrospect, my departure from mainstream evangelicalism had starting years earlier, when I discovered the Social Justice wing of the church, which, in my own view, remained Protestant and Wesleyan. But as I grew old and crusty, my faith journey started to take some strange twists and turns. In retropsect, the mile stones in this journey became marked by a reading list that grew ever wider from the boundaries of my Protestant upbringing and education.
This book shelf, "Evangelical Escape Pod" is actually a literary history of books that have brought me to a place that would probably send my Nazarene Sunday School teachers into a frenzy of Wednesday night Prayer Meeting intersession (or possibly intervention). It began with this book, "The Imitation of Christ", which I first read probably sometime in the late 80s. It was the first sharp departure from my Prtotestant Reformation comfort zone, and began a long, slow and still evolving transformation
In retrospect, my departure from mainstream evangelicalism had starting years earlier, when I discovered the Social Justice wing of the church, which, in my own view, remained Protestant and Wesleyan. But as I grew old and crusty, my faith journey started to take some strange twists and turns. In retropsect, the mile stones in this journey became marked by a reading list that grew ever wider from the boundaries of my Protestant upbringing and education.
This book shelf, "Evangelical Escape Pod" is actually a literary history of books that have brought me to a place that would probably send my Nazarene Sunday School teachers into a frenzy of Wednesday night Prayer Meeting intersession (or possibly intervention). It began with this book, "The Imitation of Christ", which I first read probably sometime in the late 80s. It was the first sharp departure from my Prtotestant Reformation comfort zone, and began a long, slow and still evolving transformation
July 7, 2024
O nestemată a literaturii creștine pe care am citit-o pe îndelete și care mi-a fost de folos în ceea ce privește devoțiunea personală. Autorul oferă moduri de educare a sufletului pentru umblarea zilnică pe calea credinței, avându-L pe Hristos ca model. Cartea e alcătuită mai ales din îndemnuri, cugetări, maxime. Capitolele nu au neapărat o strânsă legătură între ele. Cred că o singură citire nu ,,îi face dreptate”.
,,Viața celui credincios trebuie să fie împodobită cu toate virtuțile, ca să fie și înăuntrul său așa cum se arată în afară. Ba încă înăuntru trebuie să fie mult mai bun decât pare în afară, căci Dumnezeu Se uită la inimă.”
,,Nu lăsa ca gândurile să-ți fugă în multe locuri. Dimineața, pune-ți în minte ceva bun de făcut, seara cercetează-ți purtarea din timpul zilei: ce ai gândit, ce ai vorbit, ce ai făcut [...] Nu fi niciodată neocupat, ci citește sau scrie, sau roagă-te, sau cugetă la lucruri duhovnicești, sau lucrează cu mâinile la ceva bun.”
,,Viața celui credincios trebuie să fie împodobită cu toate virtuțile, ca să fie și înăuntrul său așa cum se arată în afară. Ba încă înăuntru trebuie să fie mult mai bun decât pare în afară, căci Dumnezeu Se uită la inimă.”
,,Nu lăsa ca gândurile să-ți fugă în multe locuri. Dimineața, pune-ți în minte ceva bun de făcut, seara cercetează-ți purtarea din timpul zilei: ce ai gândit, ce ai vorbit, ce ai făcut [...] Nu fi niciodată neocupat, ci citește sau scrie, sau roagă-te, sau cugetă la lucruri duhovnicești, sau lucrează cu mâinile la ceva bun.”
May 4, 2021
It was great, but it rambled on sometimes.
July 31, 2022
One is noble in so far as one feels that one has metaphysical obligations to rise up to — that one has something above one's self, calling "you, — weak, lazy creature — rise up to me!". That voice, that obligation, that honor of living up to one's noble lineage, is what characterized our ancestors.
Its antithesis is the voice of lethargy, apathy, and "do as thou wilt" — the voice of Satan. It is the voice that tells you, "that's alright", and consoles you when you fail your duties. It is the voice that encourages dissipation and revolt from what you know is right. It seduced Eve to send mankind into eternal slavery on this earth. Its modern listeners care not about rising to a higher state — they are too focused on video games, pornography, endless scrolling, and Netflix to realize they are failing themselves.
The ancient Greeks and Romans thought that this voice calling us upwards was an abstract principle — not materially tangible, but Platonically real. By reaching such a True, Good, Beautiful, and Strong state we will exercise those virtues and thus rejoice in their exercise. Thus we keep in mind exemplars of these principles and use their example to encourage us to rise upwards. When we are lazy and whining, we bring to mind the steadfast Spartans in their defense against the hordes upon hordes upon Persians; when we become fat and soft, we bring to mind the great Grecian statues with supple and hard bodies, calling us to rise to our potential; when we absorb ourselves in the stupid pursuit of ever-more money, we bring our minds to the barrel-living Diogenes, mocking the endless nature of worldly goods.
We rise to abstract principles through specific examples. The word "strength" does not inspire anyone in its abstract and lifeless state; but Michaelangelo's David calls us to the strength of our ancestors. When we lift weights and feel the immense challenge of one more repetition, we picture the eternal effort of Sisyphus, the herculean strength of the Spartans, the Stoic Vikings endlessly exploring and conquering across frigid seas, the conquistadors adventuring into unknown lands and toppling an empire — all of these examples of manly strength and courage fill our minds and hearts and thus encourage us to rise upwards towards them.
But Christianity takes this a step further. All example that one can rise up to is to be found in Christ's life. Instead of that love for the abstract principles of honor, duty, and strength mentioned above, we have a personal love for Christ. By love, I mean that image-devotion of ourselves in times of weakness; that adherence to the personal example through complete rising-out-of-self into the object of our love. Christ is the object of that love; through the inspiration He inculcates in us we feel our hearts driven to rise up to Him.
So when we feel the temptation of the loins, that temptation to retardedly masturbate to a fake image that will drain us of energy and purity in the future — when this occurs, we bring to mind the image of Christ wading through the lands of the Devil, tempted in all places, and overcoming that evil seduction. When we are put in a tough situation, seemingly hopeless and making us un-agents, we bring to mind Christ's saying, "the kingdom of God is within you", meaning that through our choices we rise or fall. Through our response to the given situation we make ourselves like the self-sufficient, never needy God of ours or like the eternally shaking demons.
Christ is the form of God. He is the specific example that provides all the principles that the lifeless abstractions of "perfectly Good, perfectly Just, all-eternal", etc. cannot bring. Only through Christ can we reach that emotional connection to God — to that Being above us, saying, "rise up to me through Christ!". Christ is the Way, the Path, the great Example that leads us to God. Through His example and His conquering of death, we are saved.
This world is a great battlefield, with Evil increasing its territory day by day. How can one find the inspiration to be strong, beautiful, good, and just without Christ? Why would it matter to be those things without the example of Christ and His great promise of salvation? Where we live now is a testing ground, a sieve that separates the wheat from the chaff. Each day we make the choice to rise up to that God-implanted conscience within us, or to ignore it until it withers like a neglected plant. Reading about macro-political happenings does not change you, nor does endless whining about the state of today. One must accept the evil world as a premise. Despite that lowly premise, we must say, "So be it! Through my choices in response to this world, I rise or fall; through them, I imitate Christ or fall to the wicked state of anxiety, depression, and degeneracy. Each day I make this choice. Today, God help me, I make the right one!"
Its antithesis is the voice of lethargy, apathy, and "do as thou wilt" — the voice of Satan. It is the voice that tells you, "that's alright", and consoles you when you fail your duties. It is the voice that encourages dissipation and revolt from what you know is right. It seduced Eve to send mankind into eternal slavery on this earth. Its modern listeners care not about rising to a higher state — they are too focused on video games, pornography, endless scrolling, and Netflix to realize they are failing themselves.
The ancient Greeks and Romans thought that this voice calling us upwards was an abstract principle — not materially tangible, but Platonically real. By reaching such a True, Good, Beautiful, and Strong state we will exercise those virtues and thus rejoice in their exercise. Thus we keep in mind exemplars of these principles and use their example to encourage us to rise upwards. When we are lazy and whining, we bring to mind the steadfast Spartans in their defense against the hordes upon hordes upon Persians; when we become fat and soft, we bring to mind the great Grecian statues with supple and hard bodies, calling us to rise to our potential; when we absorb ourselves in the stupid pursuit of ever-more money, we bring our minds to the barrel-living Diogenes, mocking the endless nature of worldly goods.
We rise to abstract principles through specific examples. The word "strength" does not inspire anyone in its abstract and lifeless state; but Michaelangelo's David calls us to the strength of our ancestors. When we lift weights and feel the immense challenge of one more repetition, we picture the eternal effort of Sisyphus, the herculean strength of the Spartans, the Stoic Vikings endlessly exploring and conquering across frigid seas, the conquistadors adventuring into unknown lands and toppling an empire — all of these examples of manly strength and courage fill our minds and hearts and thus encourage us to rise upwards towards them.
But Christianity takes this a step further. All example that one can rise up to is to be found in Christ's life. Instead of that love for the abstract principles of honor, duty, and strength mentioned above, we have a personal love for Christ. By love, I mean that image-devotion of ourselves in times of weakness; that adherence to the personal example through complete rising-out-of-self into the object of our love. Christ is the object of that love; through the inspiration He inculcates in us we feel our hearts driven to rise up to Him.
So when we feel the temptation of the loins, that temptation to retardedly masturbate to a fake image that will drain us of energy and purity in the future — when this occurs, we bring to mind the image of Christ wading through the lands of the Devil, tempted in all places, and overcoming that evil seduction. When we are put in a tough situation, seemingly hopeless and making us un-agents, we bring to mind Christ's saying, "the kingdom of God is within you", meaning that through our choices we rise or fall. Through our response to the given situation we make ourselves like the self-sufficient, never needy God of ours or like the eternally shaking demons.
Christ is the form of God. He is the specific example that provides all the principles that the lifeless abstractions of "perfectly Good, perfectly Just, all-eternal", etc. cannot bring. Only through Christ can we reach that emotional connection to God — to that Being above us, saying, "rise up to me through Christ!". Christ is the Way, the Path, the great Example that leads us to God. Through His example and His conquering of death, we are saved.
This world is a great battlefield, with Evil increasing its territory day by day. How can one find the inspiration to be strong, beautiful, good, and just without Christ? Why would it matter to be those things without the example of Christ and His great promise of salvation? Where we live now is a testing ground, a sieve that separates the wheat from the chaff. Each day we make the choice to rise up to that God-implanted conscience within us, or to ignore it until it withers like a neglected plant. Reading about macro-political happenings does not change you, nor does endless whining about the state of today. One must accept the evil world as a premise. Despite that lowly premise, we must say, "So be it! Through my choices in response to this world, I rise or fall; through them, I imitate Christ or fall to the wicked state of anxiety, depression, and degeneracy. Each day I make this choice. Today, God help me, I make the right one!"
March 12, 2018
There are nearly two billion people who worship Christ as God incarnate, and over a billion more who venerate him as one of the last and greatest of God’s prophets. But in the two thousand years since his ascension to the right hand of his Father there have been only an exceptional few—a half-mad, much-afflicted, quixotic few—who have truly used the life of Christ as a model for their own; and with good reason.
The life of Christ was like life in the Hobbesian state of nature: solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short. Christ was a stranger to the world, a hater of its ephemeral comforts and consolations. He gave his life to deliver a message few could understand and fewer could accept. He went to his death hated by the masses, mocked by the powerful, and abandoned by his friends. As the incarnated God, he could have condemned the whole world and remained without blemish, but instead he condemned himself in order to save it.
How are we supposed to do likewise? It’s one thing to venerate Christ; to express gratitude for his redemptive act of creative self-sacrifice. It’s quite another to imitate him. We’re not God, after all—or are we? We don’t have the power to condemn the world or to save it—or do we?
Is it possible that we use our veneration of Christ to shield ourselves from having to follow him? Are Kierkegaard and Dostoyevsky’s Grand Inquisitor right to say that the Church exists not to propagate the Gospel, but to protect us from it? Perhaps we’ve forgotten what the ancients knew innately: that our image of God is also our highest image of ourselves. God is the pole star by which we navigate a fundamentally tragic existence. We accept the being of God when it comforts us, but not when it challenges us; not when it impresses upon us the profound moral burden of being alive, and the vale of tears we must traverse to find peace.
So our author writes:
“Our peace in this present life should not depend on absence of adversity but on humble acceptance. Those who accept suffering will enjoy peace. Such a person is a conqueror of the self, a ruler of the world, a friend of Christ and an inheritor of heaven.”
If Christ is the Way, the Truth, and the Life; if no one comes to the Father except through him; then the way to God is to take responsibility for the world instead of condemning it from behind the fortress walls of your own psychological subjectivity. To imitate Christ is to make the entire world your problem. It’s to demolish the barrier between the pious pretensions of your ego and the fullest implications of your inherited humanity, both at their most noble and at their most dire, as expressed by God through the life and the moral sensibility of everyone who has ever lived.
William Blake wrote that “everything possible to be believed is an image of truth”; it’s also the case that everything human beings have ever done is an image of what human beings are, and by extension, of what you are yourself. It’s flattering to see oneself in the beautiful, the noble, the wise, the intelligent, and the altruistic; it is somewhat less so, but no less necessary, to see oneself in rapists, mass murderers, slave drivers, and perpetrators of genocide. It’s necessary because, like those who invite the repetition of history by remaining ignorant of it, those who don’t understand the depths of their own depravity are most likely to be possessed by it. The worst offenses are committed by people who are perfect in their own eyes. To put it another way, such people commit a form of idolatry by idolizing themselves.
Suffice it to say, the imitation of Christ is not to be undertaken lightly. Christ said we could do works as great as his if we took on the burdens he did.
But do we dare?
The life of Christ was like life in the Hobbesian state of nature: solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short. Christ was a stranger to the world, a hater of its ephemeral comforts and consolations. He gave his life to deliver a message few could understand and fewer could accept. He went to his death hated by the masses, mocked by the powerful, and abandoned by his friends. As the incarnated God, he could have condemned the whole world and remained without blemish, but instead he condemned himself in order to save it.
How are we supposed to do likewise? It’s one thing to venerate Christ; to express gratitude for his redemptive act of creative self-sacrifice. It’s quite another to imitate him. We’re not God, after all—or are we? We don’t have the power to condemn the world or to save it—or do we?
Is it possible that we use our veneration of Christ to shield ourselves from having to follow him? Are Kierkegaard and Dostoyevsky’s Grand Inquisitor right to say that the Church exists not to propagate the Gospel, but to protect us from it? Perhaps we’ve forgotten what the ancients knew innately: that our image of God is also our highest image of ourselves. God is the pole star by which we navigate a fundamentally tragic existence. We accept the being of God when it comforts us, but not when it challenges us; not when it impresses upon us the profound moral burden of being alive, and the vale of tears we must traverse to find peace.
So our author writes:
“Our peace in this present life should not depend on absence of adversity but on humble acceptance. Those who accept suffering will enjoy peace. Such a person is a conqueror of the self, a ruler of the world, a friend of Christ and an inheritor of heaven.”
If Christ is the Way, the Truth, and the Life; if no one comes to the Father except through him; then the way to God is to take responsibility for the world instead of condemning it from behind the fortress walls of your own psychological subjectivity. To imitate Christ is to make the entire world your problem. It’s to demolish the barrier between the pious pretensions of your ego and the fullest implications of your inherited humanity, both at their most noble and at their most dire, as expressed by God through the life and the moral sensibility of everyone who has ever lived.
William Blake wrote that “everything possible to be believed is an image of truth”; it’s also the case that everything human beings have ever done is an image of what human beings are, and by extension, of what you are yourself. It’s flattering to see oneself in the beautiful, the noble, the wise, the intelligent, and the altruistic; it is somewhat less so, but no less necessary, to see oneself in rapists, mass murderers, slave drivers, and perpetrators of genocide. It’s necessary because, like those who invite the repetition of history by remaining ignorant of it, those who don’t understand the depths of their own depravity are most likely to be possessed by it. The worst offenses are committed by people who are perfect in their own eyes. To put it another way, such people commit a form of idolatry by idolizing themselves.
Suffice it to say, the imitation of Christ is not to be undertaken lightly. Christ said we could do works as great as his if we took on the burdens he did.
But do we dare?
December 10, 2012
When I do not remember who to be, or how to live, or what to think, then it is best for me to recall this book. But perhaps all the times I have not done so have made the moments where the mists clear and I do find it all the better.
I do not think it is possible to create a piece of art that could help people as much as this book. That is no loss, though. The same thing does not need to be said a thousand times - it only needs to be really heard, and then lived. This is, for me, the summation of human talent and wisdom. What is philosophy, or science, or politics, or art, or culture for, if not to live well? Almost every discussion I've seen of living well has lacked so terribly much. Thomas à Kempis illustrated it perfectly. It is difficult. It is, perhaps, impossible. But the path he points to seems, to me, to be the most true. And perhaps that is why it so hard, because we do not want to hear the truth. Still we can know it, for its frailest fruits are more valuable, peaceful, brave, and beautiful than the greatest cities of luxuries.
I do not think it is possible to create a piece of art that could help people as much as this book. That is no loss, though. The same thing does not need to be said a thousand times - it only needs to be really heard, and then lived. This is, for me, the summation of human talent and wisdom. What is philosophy, or science, or politics, or art, or culture for, if not to live well? Almost every discussion I've seen of living well has lacked so terribly much. Thomas à Kempis illustrated it perfectly. It is difficult. It is, perhaps, impossible. But the path he points to seems, to me, to be the most true. And perhaps that is why it so hard, because we do not want to hear the truth. Still we can know it, for its frailest fruits are more valuable, peaceful, brave, and beautiful than the greatest cities of luxuries.
November 29, 2011
This is one of the heaviest books I've ever read in the realm of christian thought. Each 1-4 page chapter has to be digested individually (thus the snail's pace taken to get through it) and meditated upon afterwards in order to get the full effect. It's definitely a book to own, as I could easily see how you could read it once a year for the rest of your life and still get something meaningful and enlightening out of it each time.
It just occurred to me to revisit the preface and sure enough I discovered my justification in slow reading pace and heaviness of text:
"We offer a final word about the act of reading these spiritual classics. From the very earliest accounts of monastic practice it is evident that a form of reading called lectio divina was essential to any deliberate spiritual life. This kind of reading is quite different from that of scanning a text for useful facts and bits of information, or advancing along an exciting plot line to a climax in the action. It is, rather, a meditative approach, by which the reader seeks to taste and savor the beauty and truth of every phrase and passage."
It just occurred to me to revisit the preface and sure enough I discovered my justification in slow reading pace and heaviness of text:
"We offer a final word about the act of reading these spiritual classics. From the very earliest accounts of monastic practice it is evident that a form of reading called lectio divina was essential to any deliberate spiritual life. This kind of reading is quite different from that of scanning a text for useful facts and bits of information, or advancing along an exciting plot line to a climax in the action. It is, rather, a meditative approach, by which the reader seeks to taste and savor the beauty and truth of every phrase and passage."
May 17, 2019
The solipsistic faith enjoined in this book doesn't resonate with me at all. The basic thrust is that a person's mortal life is nothing but garbage compared to the glories awaiting those who erase themselves and express enough love toward God. Whereas this book instructs the devout to eliminate all relationships and attachment to "the world," I believe in a Christianity that calls for deeper human connection to each other and to God's present creation.
June 6, 2019
This book is the most influential Christian writing second only to the Bible. For nearly 600 years it has guided Christians on their spiritual journey of renouncing worldly vanities and embracing eternal truths reiterating the timeless Christian message of how to live a virtuous life in Christ.
August 30, 2016
I read this back in 2006. Although I don't agree with much of the theology presented by a Kempis, I found the book beautiful and moving. The man loved God and he pours out his heart on the pages. He also writes what he believes Jesus tells him in response. The book brought tears to my eyes a few times.
November 12, 2023
Everyone should read this book whether you're Catholic or protestant!
February 23, 2014
No wonder people get the wrong view of Christianity
10 April 2010
I read this book for church history and I really did not like it. In a nutshell, it says that to get to heaven you have to be like Christ. That is not entirely correct. Okay, call me one-eyed, but as for my reading of the scriptures, it is not being good that get's one to heaven, because if it came down to being good, then we all loose out. Rather, it is through God's grace that he allows us into his presence, and this is something that is completely missed in this book. Many say that the reformers actually liked his work, but, well, I don't, so I guess I will leave it at that.
10 April 2010
I read this book for church history and I really did not like it. In a nutshell, it says that to get to heaven you have to be like Christ. That is not entirely correct. Okay, call me one-eyed, but as for my reading of the scriptures, it is not being good that get's one to heaven, because if it came down to being good, then we all loose out. Rather, it is through God's grace that he allows us into his presence, and this is something that is completely missed in this book. Many say that the reformers actually liked his work, but, well, I don't, so I guess I will leave it at that.
November 7, 2019
I may be an outlier when it comes to The Imitation of Christ. I don’t find it so engaging, either as a devotional or as a guide. This was my second read and it remains at three stars.
Yes, there are parts that very spiritual. That’s why it’s three stars and not one. But there are also parts that are dry, very dry, parts where the advice is extremely ascetic, parts where the recommendations require disengagement from the world, and parts I felt that were semi-gnostic. One has to balance the spiritual with the corporeal, and not everything involved with the corporeal is bad or harmful for one’s soul. Ultimately, if we are granted heavenly existence, our bodies will be reunited with our souls, and so our bodies are not inherently base. In many places à Kempis presents the flesh as detestable. This didn’t sit well with me.
Perhaps part of the extreme ascetic and disengagement from the world was because of the times it was written. In the early 15th century, Europe was still undergoing the Black Plague, the Church was in schism, and there was a lot of social turmoil. It was a difficult time, and what is strange is that in a time of declining monasteries, the authors of were advocating a return to monastic life. This was completely understandable. It was the Benedict Option of its day. One can understand it but it feels anachronistic for today.
Besides disengagement, the authors (there are more than one under the Thomas à Kempis nom de plume) do provide consolation for a devout life. They do coach and inspire. This is the most read devotional in the Christian world other than the Bible, and is a must read.
Yes, there are parts that very spiritual. That’s why it’s three stars and not one. But there are also parts that are dry, very dry, parts where the advice is extremely ascetic, parts where the recommendations require disengagement from the world, and parts I felt that were semi-gnostic. One has to balance the spiritual with the corporeal, and not everything involved with the corporeal is bad or harmful for one’s soul. Ultimately, if we are granted heavenly existence, our bodies will be reunited with our souls, and so our bodies are not inherently base. In many places à Kempis presents the flesh as detestable. This didn’t sit well with me.
Perhaps part of the extreme ascetic and disengagement from the world was because of the times it was written. In the early 15th century, Europe was still undergoing the Black Plague, the Church was in schism, and there was a lot of social turmoil. It was a difficult time, and what is strange is that in a time of declining monasteries, the authors of were advocating a return to monastic life. This was completely understandable. It was the Benedict Option of its day. One can understand it but it feels anachronistic for today.
Besides disengagement, the authors (there are more than one under the Thomas à Kempis nom de plume) do provide consolation for a devout life. They do coach and inspire. This is the most read devotional in the Christian world other than the Bible, and is a must read.
January 14, 2023
At some points, this book moved me and encouraged me with its beautiful, warm piety. It was everything I could hope for in a devotional work. At other points, this book fell completely flat with statements I take significant issue with theologically. Regardless, I am glad to have finally read this classic of the Christian faith.
(The Literary Life Podcast 2023 Reading Challenge – Devotional or theological work)
(The Literary Life Podcast 2023 Reading Challenge – Devotional or theological work)
March 25, 2020
Extraordinarias consideraciones y diálogos con el Señor, que dan cimiento y alimento al esfuerzo de todo cristiano por identificarse con el Redentor.
________
Extraordinary considerations and dialogues with the Lord, which give foundation and sustenance to the effort of every Christian to identify with the Savior.
________
Extraordinary considerations and dialogues with the Lord, which give foundation and sustenance to the effort of every Christian to identify with the Savior.
July 31, 2016
No me extraña que san Ignacio de Loyola llevara siempre este librito con él. De hecho, según iba leyéndolo, había muchas ocasiones en las que me daba cuenta de hasta qué punto este libro había influido en los Ejercicios Espirituales de san Ignacio.
January 27, 2026
Meh. This is basically medieval Jesus Calling, putting unbiblical words into the mouth of Christ.
There are good devotional thoughts on humility and adversity, but plenty of Catholic ideas as well. For example, there is a strong emphasis on the duality between the sacred and natural: Earthly things must be rejected so you can be close to the Lord (59), including the "fellowship of men" (103). The Lord's Supper is viewed as the celebration of Mass and consecration of the Body of Christ (142). He even speaks of "meriting" heaven" (27, 76) and the impossibility of assurance of salvation (30).
Overall, I'm not sure why this book became a classic and has endured since 1420. My recommendation: Skip it.
There are good devotional thoughts on humility and adversity, but plenty of Catholic ideas as well. For example, there is a strong emphasis on the duality between the sacred and natural: Earthly things must be rejected so you can be close to the Lord (59), including the "fellowship of men" (103). The Lord's Supper is viewed as the celebration of Mass and consecration of the Body of Christ (142). He even speaks of "meriting" heaven" (27, 76) and the impossibility of assurance of salvation (30).
Overall, I'm not sure why this book became a classic and has endured since 1420. My recommendation: Skip it.
April 25, 2014
One of my parents' closest friends, who has remained one of my close friends even after watching me grow up (she's a saint), has recently started posting memes on facebook of the "religion is what you have when you fear the world; spirituality is what you have when you love life" variety. Now, there is something to be said for skepticism about organized religion. But this book accidentally makes an argument for skepticism about disorganized religion.
The Imitatio has been very influential, so I thought I'd give it a read, more or less for its historical interest. I have no idea how this might work as actual spiritual food, but I do know what it looks like intellectually: massive, disturbing, self-righteous selfishness. The focus of the books' authors (there are four books in here, and I'm pretty sure they're by different people, just due to the shifts in tone and form) is on *you*, dear reader, and how *you* can get through the veil of tears and enter the kingdom of heaven. A large part of doing so, it turns out, is ignoring everyone else and looking into yourself. There is literally *nothing* in here about helping others. No doubt the authors didn't intend to make such a statement--my second suspicion is that the book really was meant to be more like 'tips for how to get along in a religious community' than 'groundwork for spiritual practices.' But whether they intended it or not, the Imitatio mainly counsels a rejection of all other human beings, since they are just stumbling blocks in your way to paradise.
This edition is very well done; it reads clearly, the notes are exhaustive and even if you know literally nothing about the middle ages, bible or Christianity you will rarely be lost.
But I think I'd rather read an Imitation of St. Martin.
The Imitatio has been very influential, so I thought I'd give it a read, more or less for its historical interest. I have no idea how this might work as actual spiritual food, but I do know what it looks like intellectually: massive, disturbing, self-righteous selfishness. The focus of the books' authors (there are four books in here, and I'm pretty sure they're by different people, just due to the shifts in tone and form) is on *you*, dear reader, and how *you* can get through the veil of tears and enter the kingdom of heaven. A large part of doing so, it turns out, is ignoring everyone else and looking into yourself. There is literally *nothing* in here about helping others. No doubt the authors didn't intend to make such a statement--my second suspicion is that the book really was meant to be more like 'tips for how to get along in a religious community' than 'groundwork for spiritual practices.' But whether they intended it or not, the Imitatio mainly counsels a rejection of all other human beings, since they are just stumbling blocks in your way to paradise.
This edition is very well done; it reads clearly, the notes are exhaustive and even if you know literally nothing about the middle ages, bible or Christianity you will rarely be lost.
But I think I'd rather read an Imitation of St. Martin.
August 26, 2014
No wonder this book is such a spiritual classic! The writer offers some amazing insight and wisdom into the devotional life. One of the best chapters is "The Different Motions of Nature and Grace". This book is itself subdivided into four books. The first three are solid, 5/5, but the last section, on Holy Communion, is what brings the overall rating down to a 4/5. As well, the books' teachings are more ascetic than need be (though it increases its rhetorical power) "For everything created by God is good, and nothing is to be rejected if it is received with thanksgiving, for it is made holy by the word of God and prayer" (1 Tim. 4-4:5). The book is right to make us humble, to tell us to order our loves so that the Lord is our foremost, but at the same time, God created good and I believe He delights along with us when we have strawberries and cream.
January 25, 2025
This is a devotional classic that collects advice for the inner life. Today we train the body with sport and the mind with psychologists. Nobody talks about training the will. And this is where the book becomes interesting. Being a book from the 15th century, it filters a lot of current media noise. The resulting meditations are profound, focusing on the essential: those ultimate truths that give meaning to life. We can read Chesterton when life offers us wine and roses, but in this valley of tears, the soul needs wise and comforting reflections like those in this book.
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