THE IMITATION OF CHRIST

The Imitation of Christ


Sir Thomas More, England's famous Lord Chancellor under Henry VIII (and the subject of the film A Man for All Seasons) said it was one of the three books that everybody ought to own. Ignatius of Loyola, founder of the Jesuits, read a chapter a day from it and regularly gave it as a gift. Methodist founder John Wesley said it was the best summary of the Christian life he had ever read, and he translated it for his followers. Thomas Merton, America's best-known writer on the spiritual life, said it was one of the first works to begin his conversion.

The Imitation of Christ, by Thomas à Kempis, has been translated into more than 50 languages, in editions too numerous for scholars to keep track of. (By 1779, there were already 1,800 editions.) Not counting the Bible, it has been the most popular of Christian classics.

If you're going to get serious about prayer, this is one book you'll want to become familiar with.

A Book for Spiritual Novices

''When you read the opening lines of The Imitation of Christ, a clear voice reaches you with a promise that is as compelling today as it was in the fifteenth century." So writes Sally Cunneon in her preface to a recent edition of The Imitation of Christ.


That voice has been heard clearly by people of all stations and callings of life, but it was originally written for a select audience: men who desired to become monks. It was written as a guide to help them mature spiritually. But it wasn't long after its author's death that a larger audience was invited to consider its contents, for it quickly became apparent that the book made a whole lot of sense to anyone seeking to grow spiritually.

The book was written by Thomas à Kempis (13791471), a German monk who spent most of his life in a Dutch monastery with a group called The Brethren of the Common Life. When he became the prior's assistant, à Kempis was charged with instructing novices in the spiritual life. In that capacity, he wrote four booklets that were later collected and named after the title of the first booklet.

À Kempis wanted to help his readers become more like Christ that is, more virtuous, with a fuller interior life and with a closer relationship with God. He does not teach by way of reason (though what he says makes a lot of sense); instead, he attempts to speak to our hearts and our yearning to be like Christ. It's not intellectual insight but spiritual strength and encouragement that he tries to impart.

The power of The Imitation of Christ comes from at least three sources. First, it is an encyclopedia of spiritual wisdom of the ages. It is the fruit of à Kempis' lifelong pursuit of spiritual perfection and his deep reading of the Bible, Augustine, Bernard of Clairvaux, and other great spiritual writers. The book is littered with quotes and paraphrases from rich spiritual resources.


Second, à Kempis expresses his thoughts in language that is unusually simple and to the point. Many writers easily fall into vague language and abstract terminology if they attempt to capture the essence of the spiritual life. Not this one. À Kempis speaks in a language that is accessible to a novice and yet that contains wisdom that the most spiritually advanced can learn from.

Third, à Kempis has a profound understanding of human nature. Some are surprised that one who spent his whole life confined to a monastery could understand the dynamics of human behavior so well. But we forget that monks live in an intense form of human community with all its joys, sorrows, sins, virtues, daily irritations, and profound wonder. And à Kempis happened to have been better than most at expressing the complexities of the human heart.

The Essence of Imitation

A quick overview of the contents may help you decide where you want to dip in first. The Imitation of Christ should not be read like a novel, in which you race through many chapters at a sitting. Instead, it should be read as we read the Bible devotionally, one chapter at a time at most. After that you'll want to meditate patiently on what you've read until the words enlarge you in some way.

Book One is entitled "Helpful Counsels for the Spiritual Life." À Kempis advises us to renounce superficial pursuits and pleasures and to give ourselves to humility as we pursue the interior life.

"If you knew the entire Bible inside and out and all the maxims of the philosophers," he writes, "what good would it do you if you were, at the same time, without God's love and grace? . . . This is the highest wisdom: To despise the world and seek the kingdom of God." (More on this business of "despising" the world in a bit.)

In Book Two, entitled "Directives for the Interior Life," à Kempis develops the themes introduced in Book One. Because the kingdom of God is within, he argues, it cannot be perceived with the senses:

Why look about you? This place is not the place of your rest. Your dwelling place is to be in heaven, and you should view all earthly things as passing shadows. Everything is transitory and so are you. So do not cling to ephemeral things, otherwise you will get caught in their webs and perish.

Or, more positively:

He who sees all things as they really are, and not as they are said to be or thought to be, is truly wise, for God is his teacher and not man. He who knows how to walk with the light from within and makes little of outward things needs no special place nor definite time to perform religious exercises.

Throughout the book, we are told to listen attentively to God's call, and that to do so we need humility, inner peace, pure intentions, a good conscience, and constant attentiveness. À Kempis also spends much ink on what it means to be a friend of Jesus: "Love Jesus and keep him as your friend. When all others forsake you, he will not leave you nor will he allow you to perish on the last day."

Book Three, the longest of the four books, is entitled "On Interior Consolation" and treats the book's themes afresh, just as a composer does with the themes of his symphony. This book is cast in the form of a dialogue between Jesus and the disciple, and it concentrates on the disciple's desire to reach new spiritual heights.

Jesus: My son, you must give all for all and keep nothing back for yourself. Realize that there is nothing more harmful to you in this world than self-love. . . .

If your love be pure, simple, and properly ordered, then nothing can ever hold you captive. Neither desire what you should not have, nor possess anything that could hinder you or rob you of your interior freedom. . . .

Disciple: Uphold me, Lord, with the grace of your Holy Spirit. Give strength to my inner self and empty my heart of all useless cares and concerns.

Finally, Book Four is a guide to preparing for and taking holy communion, and it emphasizes the healing powers of the sacrament.


On Not Despising Thomas

Before we consider a sample chapter, I should address a couple of matters that will probably concern modern readers. Some, for example, may find à Kempis' exclusive use of male pronouns a problem. Then again, à Kempis meant them literally: He was writing to monks. Besides, plenty of female saints, including Theresa of Lisieux, have been able to translate the material so that it has become meaningful for them.

Then there is à Kempis' stark dualism between this world and the kingdom of God, with the repeated instruction to "despise" the world or one's self, to forsake human friendship, and so on. Before we reject such extreme counsel too quickly, we might first consider Thomas's reason for speaking so forcefully and look for the grain of truth. It may be that à Kempis has taken things a bit far after all, we are commanded in the Bible to love ourselves, to thank God for his creation, and to seek the solace of friends. Then again, we may be clinging to creation so tightly that we may be unable to experience the creator.

Finally, there is à Kempis' economy of expression. He often says things that demand elaboration and then he doesn't bother to elaborate. He acts as if we know exactly what he was talking about.

For example, in Chapter 13, "How to Resist Temptation," he says, "Many attempt to flee temptation, but they only sink more deeply into them. Conflicts are not won by running away; rather it is by humbly and patiently standing up to them that we gain strength against all our enemies."

This is a profound thought, but it leaves a number of questions unanswered: What exactly does it mean to "flee" temptation? How is "standing up" to it different? How can we "gain strength" from standing up to temptation if we don't feel we have the strength to stand up to it in the first place? And so on.

Thomas speaks so tersely and leaves so many questions unanswered that we will be tempted to toss the book aside as the idealistic ramblings of a medieval mystic.


But we mustn't read à Kempis, or any deep writer, as we would a modern how-to book (like this one!). How-to books are intended to explain. Books of spiritual devotion are intended to prod, probe, and force us to pray more deeply. The best ones will sometimes leave us wondering, pondering, and even a little irritated that we can't quite get a handle on things. That tension is precisely the thing that makes us want to give up or that allows us to go deeper than we could have imagined.

Love of the Alone

To give you a flavor of The Imitation of Christ, let's look more closely at one of the chapters, "The Love of Silence and Solitude" (Chapter 20, in Book One). This chapter directly concerns the theme of this book, and I'd like to work through it as I would a prayer journal. This will give you one example of how to use The Imitation of Christ in your prayer life. Thomas's words (the really good stuff) are indented; my reflections are in italic.

Set aside an opportune time for deep personal reflection and think often about God's many benefits to you. Give up all light and frivolous matters, and read what inspires you to repentance of soul and not what just entertains the mind.


Lord, on the one hand, I'm not very good at thinking about the "many benefits" you bestow on me. On the other hand, I'm pretty good at reading what inspires "repentance." But I'm tired of doing things that way. It's so self-punishing. I'm not doubting that there's a lot to repent of, and to repent of time and again (greed, lust, sloth, selfishness, and so on). It's just that it's a vicious cycle. Perhaps if I focused more on the many blessings you grant me, I'd be more joyful and have more energy to deal with repentance issues.

If you abstain from unnecessary conversation and useless visiting, as well as from listening to idle news and gossip, you will find sufficient and suitable times for your meditations. The great saints avoided the company of men as much as they could, because they wanted to live for God in silence.

Lord, there is wisdom here, but I'm confused how to put it into practice. I am indeed weary of "useless visiting" and "listening to idle news and gossip," but it does seem to be what many people want to talk about. If I refuse to participate in such conversations, I'll seem aloof, won't I? People won't think I really want to talk with them because I think they are superficial. But isn't one of the gifts of life to enjoy "useless" conversation with friends? Does everything I do and say have to be "useful''?

Then again, there is enough truth here to move forward. I admit to spending too much time in useless and unnecessary activities, and they do take time away from you. Help me to be better disciplined with my time.

If you aim at a fervent spiritual life, then you too must turn your back on the crowds as Jesus did. The only man who can safely appear in public is the one who wishes he were at home. He alone can safely speak who prefers to be silent. Only he can safely govern who prefers to live in submission, and only he can safely command who prefers to obey.


Lord, at first I balked at the sentence about Jesus. For it seemed to me that this turning his back on the crowds is precisely what Jesus did not do. And then I remembered that there were definite moments when he got off by himself, away from the crowds and even away from the disciples. And then he just prayed all through the night, no less.

I tend to think of Jesus as a man of the people and a man of action. But I forget that he was a man of prayer first. I keep seeing the world in dichotomies that don't exist as if one could not be a person of prayer and a person of action. It's not either/or, but both/and.


I go through periods where I yearn to be one or the other. Sometimes I want to become a monk and pray the rest of my life. Other times, prayer seems like such a waste of time compared to writing or building a bookcase. Maybe if I could get some balance in my life with an ongoing and steady diet of both prayer and action I wouldn't swing back and forth as I do.

Recommended Editions

You get the idea: À Kempis' The Imitation of Christ is a wise book that can provoke you into deeper thought and prayer.

As I mentioned, there are many editions and many translations of The Imitation of Christ. You'll probably find more than one edition at your local library alone, not to mention your local bookstore.


Read through a chapter or two before you choose an edition. Read also the introductory material, and notice the type of footnotes or end notes the edition has. Make sure they are at the level (some are more scholarly, some more devotional, some are nonexistent!) that you desire.

There is no one right edition, of course, but I've enjoyed (and used in preparing this chapter) the one published by Vintage, in the Vintage Spiritual Classic series. This Imitation was edited and translated by Joseph N. Tylenda, S.J., and includes a splendid preface by Sally Cunneen; it was most recently published in 1998.