THOMAS A KEMPIS

THOMAS HAMMERKEN, born in 1380 at Kempen, Germany, lived his long life, from age twelve to age ninety-one, in a monastery. It was there, isolated from the business of the world, that Thomas grew in wisdom and spirit – exploding once and for all the notion that man must perform actions in the world in order to live a full and successful life. Thomas’ success lay in the world of the spirit, carrying out the commands which God dictated to him through the heart. And from these travels in the country of his heart, he produced a phenomenally successful book, a book which has gone through more than six thousand editions, has been translated into at least fifty languages. and is second only to the Bible in popularity. It is called The Imitation of Christ. He wrote it as a handbook of spiritual instruction meant primarily for the monks of his order, but so fundamental and incontrovertible is its message that people of every age, in every walk of life, in every country, have been and still are profoundly moved by its teachings.

Thomas’ father, John, was a poor man and a silver­ smith- hence the name Hammerken which means “little hammer.” His mother, Gertrude, devout and intelligent, helped the family finances by running a nursery school for the children of the town. There was one other son, John, who was thirteen years older than Thomas. Their parents gave the boys a careful religious training, and John very early left home to enter a religious school.

The school to which he went and to which Thomas would follow him later, was at Deventer, Holland. It had been established by an inspired lay preacher, Gerhard Groot, and was the first belonging to a number of com­ munities known as the Brothers of the Common Life. Thomas was later to write a biography of Groot and an account of the life of these lay brothers.

Groot was converted from a luxurious, secular and selfish life to one of meditation and prayer, and from this contemplative state he emerged to be a brilliant preacher. According to Thomas, people left their businesses and their meals to hear him preach and the churches could not hold the crowds. Groot had been to visit the beautiful and serene mystic, Ruysbroek, and was greatly attracted to the life of the community which Ruysbroek had gathered around him. There he got the idea for his Brothers of the Common Life, an establishment for devout men to live together without monastic vows. The first house was founded at Deventer, and about a hundred others followed later. These brothers lived lives of poverty, chastity, and obedience. They did not beg, but worked at jobs and placed all earnings in a common fund. Their ambition was to live as the early Christians did, simply, in the love of God and neighbor, with humility and devotion. Thomas probably never heard Gerhard Groot preach. He was only four years old when Groot, at forty-four, died of the plague.

Groot’s idea was carried forward by Florentius Radewyn, and it was to Radewyn that Thomas’ brother John sent him when, at the age of twelve, Thomas left home and trudged off to Holland. Radewyn was greatly drawn to the young boy. He treated him as a son, kept him in his own home for a while, then found him board and lodging, helped him with his school fees and gave him books. Thomas was seven years at the Deventer school. There, according to the fashion of the time, he dropped his family name and became just Thomas from Kempen (a Kempis). There he developed the two accomplishments which seemed to have given him the most satisfaction- singing and the art of manuscript copying. His other great satisfaction was the presence of Radewyn, whom he not only admired, but revered. “The mere presence of so holy a man,” he wrote, “inspired me with such awe that I dared not speak.

“On one occasion it happened that I was standing near him in the choir and he turned to the book we had and sang with us. And standing close behind me, he supported himself by placing both his hands on my shoulders, and I stood quite still, scarcely daring to move so astonished was I at the honor he had done me.”

It was Radewyn who advised him that the monastic life would suit him best. By his own admission, Thomas was the kind of man who was happiest “in a little nook with a little book.” So at twenty, he joined the Augustinian Order and entered the monastery of Mount St. Agnes at Zwolle where his brother John was already prior.

LIFE was busy within the walls. Thomas took his tum at hauling water and fuel, working at kitchen and other household tasks. There was choir singing, and of course, the lifelong business of copying manuscripts. Of this latter work, he noted that to the monk, writing was far more than just a trade. He is quoted as saying, “If he shall not lose his reward who gives a cup of water to a thirsty neighbor, what will not be the reward of those who, by putting good books into the hands of those neighbors, open to them the fountains of eternal life? Blessed are the hands of such transcribers.” Manuscript copying was ever his favorite work and he is known to have made one copy of the whole Bible, which took him fifteen years.

At thirty-four he entered the priesthood, and after that he began to preach. His sermons were fervent and thoughtful. The fame of his eloquence spread, and he preached to crowded audiences. In 1425 he was pro­ moted to superior, which meant spiritual adviser and instructor. Later his brothers elected him prefect of the monastery, but it turned out that he was too simple­ minded in business, too absent-minded, and altogether temperamentally unsuited to the administrative job. He went back very happily to his old position.

Besides his sermons, he found time to write many tracts on the monastic life: The Discipline of Cloisters, The Life of the Good Monk, Sermons to Novices, The Solitary Life, and so forth. From these, and from contemporary accounts of him, we get a fairly rounded picture of the man. He was diligent, kind, most reserved, but not anti-social. He enjoyed religious talks with his brothers and was eloquent and inspired in the subjects of God and the soul; but whenever the subject turned to mundane matters, he grew uncomfortable. “My brothers,” he would say, “I must go. Someone is waiting to converse with me in my cell.” About his physical appearance it is written that he had a sweet expression and lustrous, at times, intense brown eyes. His complex­ ion to the day of his death was fresh-colored, vivid. He must have stooped a little from so much bending over his desk, for it is mentioned that he straightened up when singing, even rose upon his toes with his face turned upward. He worked to the last days of his life and never needed spectacles for even the most delicate trading.

His reading was wide. Besides the scriptures he read the writings of St. Bernard, St. Gregory, St. Ambrose, St. Thomas, but also Aristotle, Ovid, Seneca, and Dante. However, his experience was entirely bookish, his life entirely within. The turbulent world outside the monastery, wars and revolts, the split in the church and two popes anathematizing each other, one in Rome, one in France, futile church councils trying to restore peace, left him undismayed. He believed that all problems could be solved by retiring into Christ. If life is lived with the sole purpose of drawing near to God, then, no doubt, the fever of living dies down. It is this glimpse of a fruitful peace within the endless, futile turmoil of worldly life that gives The Imitation its perennial appeal.

Shortly after he was ordained as a priest, Thomas began work on his great book. It was to occupy him for ten years. He wrote it meticulously m the finest medieval Latin and in a rhythmical style that suggests he intended it to be chanted. The book is a miracle of simplicity and straight-thinking. There is very little theology. “Of what use is your subtle talk about the Blessed Trinity if you are not humble?” he asks. He goes right to the heart of Christianity, of all religion. And the heart of the matter is, as Henri Bergson put it, that this universe is nothing but a machine for the making of gods. This is not a book for the pretender, the dilettante, nor the faint-hearted. “Heaven help us if we find easy reading in The Imitation of Christ!” exclaims Monsignor Knox, one of its translators. But any sincere aspirant, wondering how self-purification is to be accomplished, can take a course in sainthood here.

HE starts out in Book I in a most businesslike manner. Here is a man who knows what he is dealing with, and he is dealing with psychology. After a short chapter of propaganda for the godly life, he begins searching out every comer of the human psyche for weaknesses and falsities. The chapter headings show what he is about: On taking a low view of oneself; About immoderate passions; How to get rid of self­ conceit; About useless gossiping; Why it is good for us not to have everything our own way; On putting up with other people’s faults; How temptations are to be kept at bay.

Where human behavior is concerned, he is shrewd.

“How can a man expect to have peace when he is always minding other people’s business?” Prune away your own bad habits now, he urges, for nothing will be more con­ solation to you than a clean conscience. “Forgive an injury with your whole heart.” More than forgive, be indifferent to it. How is this to be done? Live in the inner world. “Tum to God and you will be lifted out of yourself and rest in Him contentedly.”

He does not pretend that all this is going to be easy. He says, “The conquest of self-demands the hardest struggle of all; but this has got to be our real business in life, the conquest of self.” Because, “Once a man is integrated, once his inner life has become simplified, all of a piece, he begins to attain a richer and deeper knowledge – quite effortlessly, because his knowledge comes from above.” How beautiful are these words of his:

“Speak, 0 Lord for thy servant heareth. Silence, all ye teachers!

And silence, ye prophets! Speak Thou alone, 0 Lord, unto my soul!”

This would be the effortlessness of the athlete integrally trained for the moment of contest. One who has earnestly tried to follow Thomas a Kempis through such a strenuous preparation must come from this pitiless paring away and rooting out and exercise of will with a feeling of cleanness, power, exhilaration, “rejoicing as a strong man to run a race.” Many tired and jaded people of the world might consider this state of health enough reward. But to Thomas this was just a prelude. He had something more in mind.

Book II, which is much deeper, follows naturally and logically. It deals with the compensations, consolations, and joys of living an interior life. Here he discusses peace, purity, singleness of purpose, and God’s grace. “You must make room deep in your heart to entertain Him as He deserves; it is for the inward eye, all the splendor and beauty of Him; deep in your heart where He likes to be. Where He finds a man whose thoughts go deep, He is a frequent visitor; such pleasant converse, such welcome words of comfort, such deep repose, such intimate friendship are well-nigh past belief.” And “the more a man dies to himself, the more he begins to live in God. So then, when we have made an end of reading and studying, this is the conclusion we should reach at last.”

IN BOOK III the character of The Imitation changes. The format changes, too. It becomes a dialogue between God, whom Thomas calls The Beloved, and the human soul, whom he calls The Disciple or The Leamer. In it God instructs, exhorts, encourages, promises. The disciple reveals his doubts and discouragements, has his questions answered, is even allowed to put God to the test. The intimate friendship between Thomas and God is touching. He complains to God with utter familiarity, “Lord, what a state thing have got into these days!” And God answers him as reassuring father and friend, “Stand your ground, son, and trust in Me.”

It is no wonder that in the course of this long dialogue, the disciple falls in love with God and breaks forth again and again into hymns of praise and adoration.

“If anyone has this love, he will know what I mean. A loud cry in the ears of God is that burning love for Him in the soul which says, ‘My God, my love, You are all mine and I am all Yours.”‘

“Let me sing the song of love and follow You, my Beloved, to high heaven. Let my soul grow faint in praising You, rejoicing in Your love. Let me love You more than myself, love myself only for Your sake; let me love in You all who truly love You.”

But the great value of Book III for spiritual aspirants is that we can identify with the learner. The disciple’s doubts are our doubts. He asks the questions that are in our hearts. And the answers come surely from God to every question, from every angle. The Imitation becomes a handhold in the swamp of our life, a handhold to help us up and out of the mire.

Book IV is a short discussion of the Holy Communion. Thomas raises the subject above ritualism and puts it where it belongs on the lofty and universal basis of mysticism. “This most high and adorable Sacrament is the health of body and soul, the remedy for every spiritual disease.” The Beloved advises us: “If you have no wish to drown in the deep gulf of doubt, don’t busy yourself with useless attempts to analyze this deep Sacrament. There are many people who in their desire to fathom mysteries too deep for them, have lost all feeling of devotion. He is a happy man who can simply tum away from the uncharted ways of theological discussion and walk ahead by the sure and open road of God’s commandments. What God wants of you is faith and a life of unalloyed goodness, not loftiness of understanding … Do you, then, if you would be my disciple, offer yourself to Me in this Sacrament, together with all the powers of your heart.”

TOWARD the end of the great dialogue, God says, as a kind of summing up, “It is a pure heart that I look for; that is the place in which I rest.” And Thomas, from his long lifetime of friendship with the Lord, has these final, warm words of advice:

“Go forward, then, with simple, unfaltering faith. Leave your worries behind and trust in Almighty God. God never misleads you.”

by Nancy Pope Mayorga