Villers-Bocage was destroyed during the Battle of Normandy in 1944. The village that stands today is modern — rebuilt from the rubble. Very little evidence remains of what it was. And yet life returned. The stones fell. New stones rose. The village is a parable standing in plain sight.
Kempis would see it immediately: if I am left to myself, behold I am nothing. But if suddenly You look upon me, immediately I am made strong. What was destroyed can be rebuilt. What was leveled can rise. The hand that rebuilds is not human. And the soul that rests in God above all things — she is not destroyed when the stones fall. Because the rest was never in the stones.
Above all things and in all things you shall rest always in the Lord, O my soul, for He Himself is the eternal rest of the saints.
Grant me, most sweet and loving Jesus, to rest in You above every creature, above all health and beauty, above all glory and honour, above all power and dignity, above all knowledge and skilfulness, above all riches and arts, above all joy and exultation, above all fame and praise, above all sweetness and consolation, above all hope and promise, above all merit and desire, above all gifts and rewards which You can give and pour forth, above all joy and jubilation which the mind is able to receive and feel;
in a word, above Angels and Archangels and all the army of heaven, above all things visible and invisible, and above everything which You, O my God, art not.
On the eve of June 6th, in a village that was leveled and rebuilt from nothing, Kempis brings the passage that places God above everything. And the list is relentless — not above the bad things only, but above the good things. Above health and beauty. Above glory and honour. Above knowledge and skilfulness. Above riches and arts. Above joy and exultation. Above all sweetness and consolation. Above Angels and Archangels and all the army of heaven.
And the last phrase gathers the entire created order in a single breath: above everything which You, O my God, art not. Kempis cannot list enough. So he draws the line at existence itself: whatever exists that is not God — God is above it. France is not God. Brittany is not God. The rebuilt village is not God. The beaches are not God. The sacrifice of the young men is not God. All sacred. All honored. All below Him.
At the D-Day beaches when we visited last year, you could picture the young men dying as they tried to take the beaches. It is a place of much reverence and tears.
For You, O Lord, my God, art best above all things; You only art the Most High, You only the Almighty, You only the All-sufficient, and the Fulness of all things; You only the All-delightsome and the All-comforting; You alone the altogether lovely and altogether loving; You alone the Most Exalted and Most Glorious above all things; in Whom all things are, and were, and ever shall be, altogether and all-perfect.
And thus it falls short and is insufficient whatsoever You givest to me without Yourself or whatsoever You revealest or do promise concerning Yourself, while You are not seen or fully possessed: since verily my heart cannot truly rest nor be entirely content, except it rest in You, and go beyond all gifts and every creature.
The tears at the beaches and the tears before dawn come from the same place — the heart that recognizes the cost of something.
Those young men — eighteen, nineteen, twenty years old — came across an ocean to a beach they had never seen, and they gave everything. Not above health and beauty — they gave health and beauty. Not above life — they gave life. And the village Le is sitting in this morning — Villers-Bocage, destroyed and rebuilt — exists because they did.
Kempis, speaking from a monastery where no bullet ever flew, says the same thing from the interior: my heart cannot truly rest nor be entirely content, except it rest in You, and go beyond all gifts and every creature. The young men went beyond every creature on that beach. They went beyond self. They went beyond survival. And the liberty they purchased — sacred, honored, worth every tear — is temporal liberty. But the liberty Kempis describes goes further still. The rest that is in God endures when the stones fall. The rest that is in God endures when the villages burn. The rest that is in God is the eternal rest of the saints who gave everything.
Whatsoever You givest to me without Yourself falls short. France is a gift. Brittany is a gift. The rebuilt village is a gift. The freedom purchased on the beaches is a gift. But without Him inside the gift — it falls short. The heart cannot rest in the gift. It can only rest in the Giver. And the Giver is above all things — above the beaches, above the sacrifice, above the tears, above the rebuilt stones. In Whom all things are, and were, and ever shall be.
All things which we have in the soul and in the body, and whatsoever things we possess, whether outwardly or inwardly, naturally or supernaturally, are Your good gifts, and prove You, from whom we have received them all, to be good, gentle, and kind.
Although one receives many things, and another fewer, yet all are Yours, and without You not even the least thing can be possessed.
He who has received greater cannot boast that it is of his own merit, nor lift himself up above others, nor contemn those beneath him; for he is the greater and the better who ascribeth least to himself, and in giving thanks is the humbler and more devout; and he who holds himself to be viler than all, and judgeth himself to be the more unworthy, is the apter for receiving greater things.
Kempis closes the morning with the arithmetic that has governed this entire journal. He who ascribes least to himself is the greater. He who holds himself to be viler is the apter for receiving greater things. The downward path leads up. The smaller the self, the larger the gift. The more unworthy the soul considers herself — the more she receives.
This is the 500 denari arithmetic. The one who was forgiven more loved more. The one who ascribes least to herself receives the most. The one who holds herself to be viler — not as performance, not as false humility, but as honest sight — she is the one God fills.
And the proof of the Giver is in the gifts: all things prove You to be good, gentle, and kind. Not just the blessings. All things. The destroyed village that was rebuilt — it proves Him good. The beaches where freedom was purchased — they prove Him good. The morning before dawn — it proves Him good. The road through Normandy on the eve of June 6th — it proves Him good, gentle, and kind.
Twenty-three days of Kempis. One hundred and two entries. From Caldas da Rainha to Villers-Bocage. From a good life refreshes the mind to above all things — above everything which You, O my God, art not. The journey is not finished. But the eyes — the eyes are where they need to be. On the Lord. 🙏
"My heart cannot truly rest nor be entirely content, except it rest in You, and go beyond all gifts and every creature."
Thomas à Kempis · The Imitation of Christ · Villers-Bocage · The eve of June 6thDestroyed and Rebuilt
Villers-Bocage was leveled in 1944 and rebuilt from nothing. The village is a parable: the rest was never in the stones. What was destroyed can rise — because the hand that rebuilds is not human.
Above All Things
Above health, beauty, glory, honour, knowledge, riches, joy, Angels, Archangels — above everything which You, O my God, art not. The relentless list that places God above the entire created order.
The Beaches — Reverence and Tears
Young men who gave everything. The liberty purchased on those beaches is sacred — and temporal. The eternal rest endures when stones fall, when villages burn. In Him all things consist.
Apter for Greater Things
He who ascribes least to himself is the greater. He who holds himself viler is apter for receiving more. The 500 denari arithmetic — the smaller the self, the larger the gift.