A Reflection on Hilaire Belloc

Old Thunder and the Faith

Politician, poet, writer, sailor, father, and Catholic—Hilaire Belloc remains one of the most prominent voices of the early 20th-century Catholic revival, and for good reason. His vast body of work anticipated many of the challenges we face in modernity. Yet beyond his intellectual legacy, it was Belloc’s unwavering faith that has deeply influenced many, including myself, toward a more authentic Christian life.

Belloc was born on July 27, 1870, in France, but he always considered Sussex, England, his true home—a sentiment reflected often in his poetry and prose. Living through the early 20th century, he witnessed seismic shifts in society and politics, all of which left a mark on his thinking and writing.

From my perspective, three major events shaped Belloc into the writer and Catholic thinker we now revere. First was the papacy of Pope Leo XIII, particularly his writings and encyclicals. Pope Leo is often credited with initiating Catholic Social Teaching, a movement Belloc would go on to write about extensively. Second was the rise of the Bolsheviks, the Russian Revolution, and the spread of Communism—an ideological threat that Belloc saw as deeply tied to the social questions Pope Leo addressed. Finally, there was his friendship with the great Catholic writer and thinker G.K. Chesterton. Thanks be to God that these two men met, for without Belloc, Chesterton may never have found his way to the Catholic faith.

These first two events—the rise of a great pope and the tragedy of a revolution—led to one of the most significant encyclicals ever written: Rerum Novarum. While I won’t delve into the details here, it is a cornerstone of Catholic Social Teaching. I bring it up because it connects directly to what Belloc is perhaps best known for: Distributism. Along with Chesterton, Belloc is considered one of the founding minds behind Distributism. Together, they dedicated countless pages to articulating a vision of a just, faith-infused economy—one far removed from both capitalism and socialism.

As much as I’d love to explore these ideas further, I want to focus on something more personal: the impact Belloc’s faith and writings have had on my own life. He was a staunch Catholic, a fact that cannot be overstated. To emphasize this, here’s a quote from Belloc in 1906 that struck me profoundly when I first read it:

“Gentlemen, I am a Catholic. As far as possible, I go to Mass every day. This [taking a rosary out of his pocket] is a rosary. As far as possible, I kneel down and tell these beads every day. If you reject me on account of my religion, I shall thank God that He has spared me the indignity of being your representative.”

This quote grabbed me by the arm and pulled me into Belloc’s world. Here was a father and layman, like myself—devout, relatable, and boldly Catholic. I could imagine sharing a drink with him at a local Sussex pub. But more importantly, I found in him a model of faith who led me closer to our King, Jesus Christ.

Through Belloc’s firm, traditional, and often challenging writings—so aligned with my own temperament—I began to reassess my life. I realized how much time I had wasted on things that, in the end, didn’t serve Christ. Belloc helped me understand what it means to live the layman’s life for God: to serve Him, to serve my family, my community, and my fellow Catholics. My faith, which I believed was in a good place, was launched into a deeper and more transformative direction because of Belloc’s influence.

If you were to ask my wife who has most shaped my faith outside of Scripture and the saints, she would quickly say, “Oh, that’s easy—Hilaire Belloc.” And she’d be right.

One of Belloc’s most famous books, The Path to Rome, recounts his pilgrimage from central France to Rome, during which he vowed to attend Mass daily and arrive in time for the Feast of Saints Peter and Paul. While he did reach Rome in time, he failed to make it to Mass every day. I don’t mention this to excuse spiritual shortcomings but to highlight how seriously he took his faith. Even in falling short, he shows us that striving for holiness—especially through bold and courageous acts—is what sets us apart in a world that is anything but bold in its faith.

Now, I don’t claim to be a Belloc scholar. Many far more qualified than I have written extensively about him. But I felt compelled to share how his work has shaped my life and faith. His poems, his writings on Distributism like The Servile State, and his deeply Catholic books such as The Path to Rome, Europe and the Faith, and The Great Heresies, have done exactly what I believe God intended them to do: to bring me—and many others—closer to our Heavenly Father.

Through Belloc, I’ve discovered many other great Catholic writers of the early 20th century who helped revive and defend the faith during a turbulent time. I hope to write more about them in the future. But for now, I leave you with just one name: Hilaire Belloc.

Thanks be to God for this great man—and for all the great Catholics of the early 20th century