We now begin a look at Book One, Chapter 22 of The Imitation of Christ.  This rich chapter is entitled, “Of the Consideration of Human Misery.”  The cause of misery?  Turning away from God, focusing on the material not the spiritual.  We will have opportunity to delve more into different aspects of this in the coming days, but today we take a short paragraph from the first section where, paradoxically, Kempis finds comfort, not misery, in suffering for the Lord.

Jesus Himself was well acquainted with hardship and suffering from the moment of His birth to His last breath on the cross.  He was called the “man of sorrows” by the prophet Isaiah (53:3).  Why did He suffer?  For God’s sake — to fulfill the will of His Father and for the love of God and man.  In today’s Gospel (Lk 4:24-30), Jesus was not about to let his townsfolk of the hook.  He knew their hearts were hardened toward Him.  Truly, familiarity breeds contempt.  For calling them out, instead of repenting, they were about to kill Him right there and then.  But in a scene I liken to Moses parting the Red Sea (since this is the way I always picture it) “he passed through the midst of them and went away.”  He knew His ultimate fate but this was not the time — He still had much work to do in His ministry.  One never gets the sense from Christ that He was particularly perturbed when He was personally attacked, even knowing how He was getting a rise out of the religious leaders.  He was at ease with His mission and remained unafraid during His entire public ministry to call a spade a spade, regardless of the consequences.

We, too, should be at ease with our mission: to live the Gospel and spread the Gospel.  True, these are challenging times when the Good News is militated against by the inverting of truth (see Rom 1:25).  Do we go along to get along or will we be counter-cultural, not counting the cost?  What suffering can come our way that compares to the joy that awaits those of us who keep the faith (see Rom 8:18)?

We will end our focus on Chapter XXI where it began — with the quote above from the first section.  Through sorrow for sin brought on by frequent, thorough, and honest examinations of conscience, the heart is softened and turns into the heart of flesh (see here) that can be penetrated by God’s love and mercy which we then are called to extend to others (see Jn 13:34).

Psalm 95 sums up what fittingly could have been God’s (and Moses’s) appeal to the defiant Israelites newly freed from bondage in Egypt.  This psalm, written hundreds of years after the event, but specifically mentioning this encounter between Yahweh and the  Chosen People, portrays well what should have been the attitude of the people: joy in song, kneeling in worship, standing in thanksgiving.

For us today the challenge is to have a disposition open to the Lord’s voice penetrating to our innermost being.  A deep sorrow for sin, even the slightest indiscretion, a firm purpose of amendment, and avoidance of the near occasion of sin, are all necessary to walk the narrow path to salvation (see Mt 7:13-14).  Frequent and earnest prayer, regular reception of the sacraments, and a resolute heart are needed.

O my God, I am heartily sorry for having offended Thee, and I detest all my sins because of thy just punishments, but most of all because they offend Thee, my God, who art all good and deserving of all my love.

I firmly resolve with the help of Thy grace to sin no more and to avoid the near occasion of sin. Amen.

Kempis reiterates the need for mortification to get closer to the Trinity; in this chapter (1,21) this drawing nearer to the Lord should result from a deep sorrow of heart for offending so good a God with our sins.

Arguably, the most famous parable of Jesus’ is the Prodigal Son that we heard today (Lk 15:1-3,11-32).  This younger son, in essence, tells his dad to drop dead — I want my inheritance now!  He proceeds to live it up, burning through his new found wealth in short order.  Then, when difficult times come, his fair weather, free-loading “friends” are nowhere to be found.  Reduced to tending pigs, a particularly obnoxious line of work for a Jew, he “comes to his senses.”  He decides to go back to his boyhood home, confess his sinful behavior, and beg his father for work.  The patriarch, eagerly awaiting his wayward son’s return, runs out to greet him, welcomes him home, and lavishes upon him the royal treatment.  The older son is livid that his brother is given such fanfare, leading the father to try to help the older son understand the father’s motivation in these actions.

It is not uncommon to hear folks (maybe even ourselves) speak of how only when they reached rock bottom in an addiction or other sinful behavior that they finally cried out to God for help.  When things are going well, when the creature comforts are all in place, divine things can far too often take a back seat, the trunk, or not be along for the ride at all.  This is why Kempis’s advice is so wise and so needed, particularly in a time and place in which our every desire can be easily fulfilled.  Let us not get too comfortable with all the comforts and distractions around us; these are all passing.  Rather, like the Prodigal Son, let us come back to the Father, acknowledging our sins and waywardness.  We can be assured that He will bridge the greater distance to welcome us back.

(By the way, let us not fall into the trap of the older son, self-righteously taking offense when someone who has led a wayward life comes home.  Remember God’s mercy to each one of us, personally, and also what Scripture tells us: “Do I find pleasure in the death of the wicked…? Do I not rejoice when they turn from their evil way and live?” [Ezek 18:23])

(An aside: To really dive into this parable in ways you very likely never considered, read the fabulous work by Henri Nouwen, The Return of the Prodigal Son.)

The Return of the Prodigal Son (c. 1661–1669) by Rembrandt van Rijn

Kempis is on target that worldly accolades do much to impede us in the spiritual life (1,21).  This section talks about how our focus is to be on our eternal destiny, but is it not the case that worldly ambition can easily blind us to such concerns?  When we focus on how we are received in this world, the danger of such self-absorption is making ourselves and our status our only concern.  Thus it is easy to increasingly freeze out God and others in our pursuit, making us slow, at best, in receiving divine messages to repent and reform.

Jesus today (Mt 21:33-43,45-46), as in yesterday’s reading, takes a dig at the Pharisees.  His Parable of the Wicked Tenants is a thinly veiled summary of the history of the Chosen People.  God kept sending prophets to the Israelites who, time and again, rejected their message, sometimes even killing them.  The impression one gets from this reading is that the light comes on slowly after Jesus relates the entire story to them and thus we read at the end that they wish to arrest Jesus there and then but were too cowardly to do so because of the pro-Jesus crowd.

Kempis’s message certainly reflects the general attitude of the Pharisees: cold and slow of heart, concerned with their own status, and consumed with being exalted by the people (today we would call it clericalism) (see Mt 23:1-6).  Well, as was mentioned in the first paragraph, we easily can imitate the Pharisees: so caught up in ourselves and our pursuits that not only is God forgotten but He may be considered an obstacle to achieving selfish goals that militate against what is required for salvation.

It is far better for us to stick with the correct order of priorities: God first, others second, us last.

Kempis here describes the eternal consequences of not having sorrow for sin (1,21).  Solitude, frequent examination of conscience, and a firm purpose of amendment are all emphasized as necessary in this life for happiness in the next.

Today’s “parable” (Lk 16:19-31; I’ve heard good arguments against it being a parable, strictly speaking, since it is the only such story that actually gives a proper name to a character [sometimes the wealthy feaster is called Dives, which simply Latin for “rich man,” but his proper name is not in this tale]) is the famous story of the rich man and Lazarus; the person of wealth feasts with no concern for the poor beggar in his midst.  Fortunes are reversed in the next world when Lazarus enjoys bliss but the man of worldly means endures torture.  The burning man asks for a bit of relief but it cannot be provided.  And, while the entire story is directed at the Pharisees, the last line, in response to Dives request to at least warn his brothers, is most poignant for the Lord’s hearers:

If they will not listen to Moses and the prophets, neither will they be persuaded if someone should rise from the dead.

The episode of Lazarus being raised from the dead only appears in John’s Gospel (Jn 11:1-44, but it is worth reading the entire chapter), immediately after which the Sanhedrin meets to put into high gear their plans to have Jesus put to death.  We learn there that Jesus escapes to Ephraim for awhile, but the very next verse tells us that “Passover was near” and then three verses later that it was six days away.  John is a quite different Gospel than the three synoptics, so chronology is particularly difficult to discern with the Beloved Disciple.  Did Jesus relate today’s parable before or after Lazarus actual rising from death?  If before, imagine the Pharisees recalling with varied reactions and emotions this pointed tale when watching Jesus’ friend emerge from his tomb.  If after, picture the seething indignation they must have felt being called out for their lack of faith even after witnessing the long dead come to life (thus making their immediate turn toward plotting against the upstart Rabbi unsurprising).  This is not to mention the infinitely more significant Resurrection that takes place after Jesus is executed and the Pharisees response to that event.

The Pharisees then, and we today, should take heed with utmost seriousness the lesson Jesus attempted to teach them and attempts to teach persons of all times and places: enjoying the creature comforts while neglecting the least of our brothers is a sure path to, at best, a long stay in purgatory (maybe that’s where Dives was? — think about it based on evidence in the story), or, infinitely worse, eternal damnation.  As Kempis implores, we “would willingly endure work and pain, and fear no austerity” in this life if we “seriously consider” our fate for eternity.

In hindsight, the rich man would have done anything to avoid his fate.  We have no excuse in that we have the advantage of knowing that “someone” who rose from the dead.

So let us listen to the Christ who lives forever and never be so caught up in ourselves that we ignore injustice and the legitimate needs of others.  Another reading of the Judgment of the Nations (Mt 25:31-46) is in order, in case any of us does not appreciate the seriousness of this call.

The Rich Man and Lazarus (medieval illumination)

The next chapter of The Imitation of Christ is called “Of Compunction of Heart” (1,21).  The author, Thomas à Kempis speaks often of compunction, which the Oxford Dictionary defines as “a feeling of guilt or moral scruple that prevents or follows the doing of something bad.”  Kempis is emphasizing that our own sinfulness should be our focus, not the affairs of others.  More on this below.

Today’s Gospel (Mt 20:17-28) is the famous scene in which the mother of apostles James and John asks that Jesus set aside a special place in heaven for her sons.  The other ten apostles express open displeasure about this request that they undoubtedly look upon as meddling or even prideful (maybe to cover up there own hubris?).  Jesus calmly counters this internal dissension by again emphasizing the proper attitude they should adopt, using Himself as the exemplar: humility expressed in service to all.

We should take to heart, as hopefully the apostles did, Jesus message.  Both Kempis and  Matthew bring to mind one of Christ’s most famous sayings directed to those who judge others inappropriately:

You hypocrite, remove the wooden beam from your eye first; then you will see clearly to remove the splinter from your brother’s eye. (Mt 7:5)

When we honestly and frequently examine our own consciences, we should discover many faults and omissions.  This is not to say that we should fall into scrupulosity or despair.  Rather, an honest assessment of our own failings and the struggle to do better should occupy us much more than entangling ourselves with the affairs of others, as Kempis says.  The apostles had such a tremendous privilege in being the closest collaborators of the Messiah (which they likely fully recognized beginning at Pentecost) yet this did not exempt them to falling prey to weakness due to their fallen nature.  Jesus called these men friends (see Jn 15:15).  He calls us friends (can anything be greater!) as well as long as we don’t break our relationship with Him.  Let not the affairs of others, or the blessings they receive, be an impediment to us in our walk with God.  Rather, let us be mindful of our own sins and pray and persevere in overcoming them.

Christ Meeting Sons and Mother of Zebedee (c. 1565) by Paolo Veronese

Kempis makes the case that one can only be a good leader if he has learned to be led (1,20).  This makes sense.  How is a person able to oversee others if he has no appreciation of having been an underling and accepting orders from another?

Jesus, in today’s Gospel (Mt 23:1-12), takes aim once more at the Jewish religious leaders of His time.  Note that Jesus does not decry their God-given position and teaching (“do and observe all things whatsoever they tell you”) but rather their bad example: looking for attention while treating poorly those not in their position and subject to them in religion.  Had their focus been on their Creator, they would have properly felt humility as they should be imitating the One from whom all teaching flows and to whom all glory is to be given.  Had the scribes and Pharisees exhibited servant leadership then they would have been properly aligned with the Lord’s expectations of them.

These men would have securely governed had they lived in subjection to God.  Pride, that deadly sin, would not allow room for the virtue of humility they so desperately needed.  Jesus tried to raise their awareness of this fact time and again only to find that it landed Him on the Cross.  What cross are we willing to bear, to be raised up on, in our subjection to God?  And will those challenges lead us to be servant leaders in truth and love?

Kempis, continuing to rail against vanity and distractions in the spiritual life, implores his readers to pray to overcome sins of omission and commission (1,20).  Frequent examination of conscience, in a quiet place, helps one to make progress in virtue.

The Book of Daniel was written about a character who lived during the sixth century BC and was captured and taken from Jerusalem during the Babylonian exile (see here for more background).  In today’s excerpt (Dn 9:4b-10), Daniel, gleaning from Scripture the coming lengthy exile of the Israelites in his own time, petitions the Lord on behalf of the people, acknowledging their corporate sin and trusting in God’s “compassion and forgiveness” despite that.  The whole book is meant to be a consolation to second century Israelites living through their own persecution but helping them to realize that appealing to God in humility will eventually end their troubles, just as it happened time and again in the past.

We should not be surprised when our own sinfulness causes difficulties in our spiritual and physical lives.  The troubles that come our way that cause us to regret our shortfalls in our relationship to God are a gift in and of themselves: instead of wading deeper into sin we are given the stark realization of our dependence on God and thus the opportunity to extract ourselves from the morass and come back to the Lord in repentance.

Sin should make us shamefaced.  It should also drive us back to God in a prayer of sorrow and apology with a firm commitment to make amends and to avoid sin in the future, imploring God’s help (grace) to do so.  Scripture from beginning to end is a testament of God’s mercy and forgiveness (seven times infinity) for those who truly desire it.  No one is beyond God’s love — He Himself tells us through the Spirit and St. Paul that He “wills everyone to be saved and to come to knowledge of the truth” (1 Tim 2:4).

Let’s not miss the opportunity no matter how bad we’ve been or how many times we ask.

Fear of the Lord does not mean we are to cower in expectation of severe punishment for sin (real or imagined) at every turn.  This healthy fear, rather, recognizes the awesomeness of God and our littleness comparatively (see here).  Kempis brings this up (1,20) in the context of a clear conscience and the virtues and grace the great saints exhibited — safeguarding their “security” in an honest assessment of their status in God’s friendship was the humility that must accompany these gifts of the Almighty.

The psalmist also recognizes this (Ps 33:4-5, 18-19, 20, 22).  The refrain, which happens to be the last line of the psalm, summarizes the entire psalm perfectly:

Lord, let your mercy be on us, as we place our trust in you. (v. 22)

Father God wants our complete trust.  He wants us humble so He can raise us up (see Lk 14:10-11 and Mt 19:30 among many examples in Scripture).  When our perspective is in proper alignment (God is God and we’re not), then we wish to do God’s will, not our own, placing Him above all things and accepting everything that comes our way in complete trust in His wisdom and mercy.

Chapter XX of Book I of The Imitation of Christ (IC 1,20), one of its lengthier chapters,  lauds solitude and silence as the way to grow ever closer to God.  Above, the attraction of vanity is decried, so solitude is a safeguard against being too caught up in the world and oneself.

Moses, in today’s short excerpt from Deuteronomy (26:16-19), continues to be a mouthpiece for the Lord to the Chosen People just recently freed from exile in Egypt.  He conveys to them the nature of the covenant God has made with them: they will be set apart and be widely praised, renowned, and glorified if they keep the commandments that Moses has conveyed to them for most of this fifth book of the Torah.  They adopted many evil ways from pagan Egypt while they were in bondage there, but God requires a complete renunciation of their former ways and a whole-hearted turning to Him.  We know, as we read on in Scripture, as challenging (miraculous, really) as it was to free the Israelites, taking them out of Egypt turned out to be much easier still than taking Egypt out of them.  Their vanity, their lack of humility, their idolatry, thinking they knew best, would be their downfall time and time again as they failed consistently to “look to the things which God has commanded.”

The message from Kempis and Scripture apply just as well to us today.  Does self-interest and modern-day idolatry (holding material possessions and secular desires above God) deter us from fully keeping the commandments or even knowing what they are?  We have no excuse for being ignorant of Scripture (thus being ignorant of Christ, as St. Jerome wrote).  The gift of the Church provides a sure guide to help us, as well.  Make this Lent a special time to read the Bibleand the Catechism of the Catholic Church daily, a practice that would be well worth keeping throughout the year.