Love to be Unknown

When most people hear the name, Thomas à Kempis, they immediately think of his book, Imitation of Christ, which is often described as the 2^nd best-selling book of all time (right after the Bible). Given that it was written centuries before people were collecting that kind of data, no one knows for sure how many copies have been sold. Whether or not it is the 2^nd best seller of all time, it was incredibly influential when it was written in the 1400s and remains so today.

The person who probably would have been least concerned with how many books he sold was Thomas à Kempis. Ironically, Kempis was probably best known for not wanting to be known. In the 2^nd chapter of Imitation of Christ, Kempis wrote: “If you wish to learn and appreciate something worthwhile, then love to be unknown and considered as nothing. To think of oneself as nothing, and always to think well and highly of others is the best and most perfect wisdom.” He was so committed to not being known that he didn’t sign the first editions of the book and would even occasionally sign other people’s names to his works. I find this fascinating as I recently co-authored a book and learned how important it is to have a platform and get your name out there. Even if they had social media in the 1400s, there is no way you would have found Thomas à Kempis on it.

Kempis was born in the end of the Middle Ages, on the cusp of the Reformation. During that time there was a bit of a revival going on in the church. While they were not yet attempting to reform the church as an institution, there were those putting more emphasis on personal devotion and bringing more spiritual depth to the laity. Kempis began his religious life in a group called “The Brethren of the Common Life.” They were committed to ascetic life but welcomed laity as well as ordained people. Kempis eventually went to be ordained and become a canon regular which was a group of people who lived within a community under a rule of life. However, unlike a typical monk, they were often associated with a parish and did pastoral work. Kempis dedicated most of his life to copying religious texts, including the Bible—which he copied four times.

Kempis was offered leadership within his community and many universities implored him to come teach for them. Despite his desire to be unknown, his work was both brilliant and accessible, which made him a sought-after spiritual advisor. Yet he was committed to a simple and quiet life. He turned down every position that would have elevated him in the eyes of others.

He formatted Imitation of Christ as a conversation between Christ and the pilgrim—the pilgrim being anyone seeking God’s wisdom.  It’s always a risky endeavor to write as Christ, but Kempis pulled it off because of his extraordinary humility. While he wrote as Christ, he identified as the pilgrim. You can see this in the matters he addressed. Much like a preacher will preach what they need to hear as much as what they think others need, Kempis addressed his own desires and weaknesses. In a chapter about truth, he wrote (as Christ), “When Judgment Day comes, I won’t ask you about the books you have read, the debates you have won, or the good you have done. I will be concerned only with how well you represented me.”

Recently I was talking to a good friend who was describing how stressful the community pool was. She felt that she was judged by the moms whose kids could swim better than hers. My friend has a PhD from an Ivy League university and is a tenured professor—you wouldn’t think she would stress about this. Yet I know she is not alone in comparing herself to others and never feeling quite good enough. I know I grow anxious around moms who seem to have it all together.

Our society tells us in a thousand different ways that we aren’t good enough and that we need to be doing more, earning more, accomplishing more…  Yet imagine how much more content we could be if we just had a little of Thomas à Kempis in us?  We could appreciate what it is to be unknown…to not worry about how many likes we have collected or how well our kids are doing at the pool or in school. What if instead we just focused on representing Christ, rather than representing ourselves better?