"Sub signis visibilibus": visual theology in Trent's decrees on the Eucharist.
Attempting to move beyond a fragmented analysis of the subject, this paper argues that both decrees embody a renewed emphasis on the visible sacramentality of the Eucharist, that is, the Eucharist as making Christ and his sacrifice present to the world sub signis visibilibus--under visible signs. Although "visible" might denote a variety of sensory concepts, I maintain that the decrees' twofold stress on the permanence of Christ's Eucharistic presence and the timeless act of Christ's sacrifice in the Mass come together to form a particularly visual theology of the sacrament as Christ's tangible yet eternal presence amid the ordinary life of mere mortals. In order to grasp this visual theology, I analyze Trent's two decrees on the Eucharist in light of their historical context. Likewise I also pose (albeit briefly) possible historical manifestations of this theology for further consideration and illumination.
The Decree of 1551: Real Presence
Commencing our study with Trent's first decree on the Eucharist, one immediately finds the crux of its theology in the opening lines of the text. "First of all, the holy council teaches and openly and plainly professes that after the consecration of bread and wine, our Lord Jesus Christ, true God and true man, is truly, really and substantially contained in the august sacrament of the Holy Eucharist under the appearance of those sensible things." (3) What at first glance appears straightforward masks a complex, tumultuous history of theological debate.
As is true for any room full of theologians, method is everything. According to Hubert Jedin, Marcello Cardinal Cervini, the leader of the proceedings, set out to "draw a line of demarcation" between Catholic and Protestant teachings. (4) Protestant theses were compiled into canons for condemnation. This method, Jedin notes, sought to avoid intra-Catholic controversies, such that no one scholastic school triumphed in the end. (5) The "end" of the council, however, was more than a decade away when the council engaged the topic of the Eucharist in 1547, shortly after its milestone decree on justification. To form a Catholic response to Protestants, theologians focused on the ancient practice of Viaticum (as supporting Eucharistic presence outside of the Mass) and, more than anything else, John 6 in relation to the Real Presence and concomitance. (6) Likewise, the use of the word "transubstantiation" was reaffirmed on the grounds that Nicaea also needed a "new" and unbiblical term against Arius (i.e., homoousios). (7) These issues would come to mold the final decree four years later. (8) In March 1547, the council relocated to Bologna due to a plague, and in September, Pope Paul III suspended the council indefinitely. (9) It was not until 1551 that the council reconvened in Trent and finished its work on the Real Presence. After the council tabled the nettlesome topic of communion under both forms (waiting for the Protestants to arrive), the council fathers unanimously confirmed the final decree on October 11, 1551.
If one turns to the decree's eight chapters, a bipartite structure emerges. Chapters I-IV focus on the nature of Christ's presence in the sacrament, and chapters V-VIII clarify its use and veneration. We have already quoted chapter I's primary point of Christ's true, real, and substantial presence in the Eucharist "under ... sensible things." This reality, the chapter continues, is incontrovertible in Christ's words, "hoc est corpus meum" (1 Cor 11:24). The second chapter establishes that Christ invites our "participation" (sumptione) in this mystery so as to "show forth" (annuciare) his death. (10) The third chapter identifies the Eucharist as the most "excellent" sacrament since in it one beholds Christ himself. This encounter, chapter IV notes, is because the "totius substantiae"--the whole substance--of bread and wine is transformed into the Body and Blood of Christ, which "the holy Catholic Church properly and appropriately calls transubstantiation." (11)
At this point of the decree, some secular historians mistakenly conclude that the decree is all about transubstantiation. The remaining four chapters, however, illuminate a deeper meaning behind Trent's theology of the Real Presence. Not only does chapter V specify that the sacrament is worthy of latria--the highest form of worship reserved for God alone--but also that the feast of Corpus Christi should be promoted for the sake of unity.Yet the core of this second half of the decree is chapter VI, reaffirming the "ancient" custom of reserving the Eucharist in a "sacred place," noting that even the Council of Nicaea affirmed this practice in its affirmation of Viaticum. (12) Here one finds Trent's adamant insistence on a permanent Real Presence, a point to which we shall return. Nevertheless, the decree does not relegate the sacrament to something demanding mere genuflection. Alongside chapter VII's admonition for worthy reception (from 1 Cor 11:29), the eighth chapter ends the decree's teaching with a firm exhortation for reception. Although recognizing the benefit of spiritual communion, the decree "beseeches" the faithful, for the sake of unity and peace, to venerate and "frequently receive [this] supersubstantial bread" (13)--an almost radical claim considering that Augenkommunion (ocular communion--gazing at the host as the priest elevated it) was the norm in the sixteenth century. (14)
If we situate this second half of the decree in relation to the first, one encounters a more comprehensive understanding of Trent's vision of Christ's presence in the Eucharist. The affirmation of Eucharistic reservation and extra-liturgical veneration speaks to the Catholic understanding of a permanent presence. Canon IV of the same decree makes this point all the more acute: "If anyone says that after the consecration is completed, the body and blood of our Lord Jesus Christ ... are there only in usu, while being taken and not before or after ... anathema sit." (15) For the council, it is the immutable nature of the consecrated elements that qualifies transubstantiation. Likewise, it is intriguing that a theology of Christ's permanent presence precedes an exhortation to approach the chancel rail, suggesting that the culmination of Eucharistic worship is not with the eye but rather with the tongue.
The Decree of 1562: The Mass as Sacrifice
Before connecting the council's decree on Real Presence with its later decree on the sacrifice of the Mass, it is imperative to return to the council's historical context. Luther and Melanchthon had attacked not only the avarice of private Mass endowments for the dead but also the very idea of the Mass as sacrifice. (16) If a priest could offer an expiatory sacrifice for sins, pleasing God, then the Mass would be a good work earning merit. The sacrifice of the Cross was the one true sacrifice annulling all other sacrifices, and thus the Protestants understood the Eucharist as God's gift to man, not man's offering to God. (17) In response, the council fathers immediately shifted their attention to the topic of the Mass as sacrifice after promulgating the decree on the Real Presence in 1551. (18) Although today we might find this method baffling, both Catholics and Protestants viewed the sacrificial character of the Mass as having more to do with the priesthood than Real Presence. (19) If there was no sacrifice, than there was no "priest," properly speaking. Despite this distinction, however, the Mass as sacrifice was always discussed in tandem with Eucharistic Real Presence, both at Bologna in 1547 and at Trent in 1551. (20)
In the early phases of the debate on this topic, one of the most pressing questions was the nature of the Last Supper. In the draft of 1552, the concept of "two sacrifices"--the Eucharist and the Cross--emerged, an idea the council later rejected. (21) Asked whether the Last Supper was a "sacrifice" in its own right, an emphatic "no" came from the party of Bishop Tommaso Campeggio. For Campeggio and others, this would make the sacrifice of the Cross redundant if not trivial. Rather, the Mass commemorated the offering of the Cross, not the Last Supper--a point later solidified by appealing to Aquinas's identical opinion. (22) The draft was revised, yet by March, Moritz had defeated Charles and the council was suspended in April. It was not until ten years later in July of 1562 that the council reconvened and took up the topic again. In the end, the decree refrained from defining the Mass as a sacrifice in and of itself, additional to the Cross. (23) Rather, the final version of Canon I speaks of a sacrifice "offered" in the Mass, favoring the interpretation that the sacrifice offered is none other than the same sacrifice of the Cross offered by Christ himself. Such an interpretation triumphed after the decree's promulgation in 1562. Four years later, the Roman Catechism would further qualify the Mass as making present and "renewing" the sacrifice of the Cross, the latter never ceasing. (24)
Turning to the decree chapters, one sees how the problem of the Last Supper is resolved. Chapter I states:
Though He was by His death about to offer Himself once upon the altar of the cross to God the Father that He might there accomplish an eternal redemption, nevertheless ... at the last supper ... that He might leave to His beloved spouse the Church a visible sacrifice, such as the nature of man requires, whereby that bloody sacrifice once to be accomplished on the cross might be represented [repraesentaretur], the memory thereof remain [permaneret] even to the end of the world, and its salutary effects applied [applicaretur] to the remission of those sins which we daily commit ... offered up to God the Father his own body and blood under the form of bread and wine. (25)
At the heart of this quotation is the identification of the Last Supper--and thus the Mass and the institution of the priesthood--with a visible sacrifice. In the decree's logic, the sacrifice of the Cross is made visible since man's nature requires the sensible. Moreover, it is a bloodless "new Passover," a "clean oblation" in which Christ offers himself "sub signis visibilibus"; that is, under visible signs. (26) Chapter II augments this point, stating that same Christ as victim offers himself through the priest in the sacrifice of the Mass, the "manner alone of offering being different." (27) Moreover, the fruits of the sacrifice on the Cross are received through the bloodless sacrifice of the Mass, expiatory and thus efficacious both for the living and for the deceased. This final point of efficacy completes the decree's original trajectory: that which is represented also remains until Christ's return as the efficacious application of the salvific fruits of his sacrifice.
At this point in the decree, attention shifts to the intricacies of the Mass itself. Again the secular historian is likely to be befuddled, seeing a mere pragmatic treatment of liturgical norms. Chapters III-VIII pertain to the ceremonies and rites of the Mass, such as the priest's tone, the mixing of water with the wine, and the use of the vernacular. (28) A theological eye will notice, however, that these latter, pragmatic considerations strike at the heart of the decree's theology of a visible representation of the invisible sacrifice of the Cross. The Mass is a visible sacrifice participating in the eternal, invisible sacrifice, making the mystery present for mortal eyes. Although Christ no longer hangs on the Cross in history, the Mass makes this invisible reality once again visible, extending the wonder of the Cross to the senses of man--which, as the decree states above, "the nature of man requires."
Nevertheless, Trent is yet again careful not to leave the sacrament suspended as a mere thing for the eye to behold. As witnessed in the first decree, here again the decree on sacrifice converges on a final point of communion. What has been made visible and thus sensible is also to be received. Chapter VI not only reaffirms the first decree's call for "frequenter" communion; now the council fathers qualify frequency as "in signulis missis"--in each Mass. (29) (One wonders if the Jansenists ever read Trent's decrees on the Eucharist.) And yet, these decrees come together not only on the point of communion but even more so on the point of the sacrament's visible nature. The first decree's teaching on "participation" in the mystery as well as "showing forth" or "announcing" Christ's death is now framed in terms of the visual renewal of Christ's sacrifice. Together the decrees speak of Christ incarnate, now resurrected with a glorified body, as invisibly yet substantially present in the Eucharist, made permanently present and thus visible to the world in the sacrificial offering of bread and wine.
Thus we arrive at a more complete vision of Trent's theology of the Eucharist, harmonizing both decrees. Trent's theology of the Christ's Real Presence touches upon the permanent nature of the sacrament as worthy of visible veneration. Likewise, the second decree understands the sacrifice of the Mass as visibly representing the continual application of the fruits of Christ's Cross, offered in persona Christi. An emphasis on a visual Eucharistic theology is at the heart of both decrees. One might even say that the second decree completes the first. If one recalls from above, Trent's theology of liturgical sacrifice is one of representing, remaining, and applying. The first decree focuses on what the Eucharist qua sacrament represents, that is, the real body and blood of Christ. The second decree defends the idea of the Mass as a sacrifice applying the redemptive merit of the Cross. The middle concept of "remaining" bridges both decrees. For this verb the Latin reads "permaneret" to designate Christ's intention in the Last Supper and, by extension, the institution of the Mass.(30) In a sense, the sacrifice of the Mass "makes permanent" Christ's Real Presence in the world, found in the permanent transformation of the consecrated elements. Moreover, it would be too simplistic to eschew this rendering of the Eucharist as dangerously static, since its theology does not cease with a mere visual reality. Indeed, Trent's exhortation for frequent communion in both decrees suggests the exact opposite. Rather, Trent's visual theology of the Eucharist seeks to make Christ continually and thus permanently present to the world via Christ's visible presence and renewed sacrifice in the drama of the Mass.
At this point, the historian is poised to ask how these decrees might have been manifested in history. Naturally, this question lies beyond the scope of this article, and consequently we must content ourselves with mere conjectures. Nevertheless, they are worth considering. To begin with, Trent's consistent emphasis on the Eucharist's visual nature may explain the developments of baroque Catholicism in all its varieties. What the modern eye might deem gaudy or even pompous in the baroque interplay of elaborate vestments, dramatic rituals, emotive music, and dizzying art and architecture may in fact be the organic embodiment of Trent's emphasis on the visual. Perhaps the most fascinating example is found in liturgical architecture after Trent. Here one encounters the almost universal merging of the tabernacle of reposition and the altar of sacrifice in new church architecture. Although this trend antedated the council, (31) it thrived and eclipsed all other models after Trent. (32) Many art historians attribute this development to the legislated reforms of St. Charles Borromeo (1538-84) in Milan and its promotion among the Jesuits. (33) One need look no further than the mother church of the Jesuit order, the Chiesa del Gesu, the archetype of baroque Catholicism. (34) The Jesuits quickly reproduced this visual model in their churches in Italy and over the Alps in Munich and Antwerp. (35) In the centuries that followed, the same arrangement of the tabernacle upon the altar emerged in such far off places as Mexico, Peru, India, China and, of all places, Milwaukee, where in the early twentieth century one could also find a Jesuit church simply named "Gesu." (36)
All in all, a final possible manifestation is worth consideration, one arising most notably in Milan and among the Jesuits. (37) If one recalls how Trent's decrees on the Eucharist begin with veneration and culminate with communion, one witnesses a similar trajectory in the seventeenth century rise in frequent communion alongside the promotion of Corpus Christi processions and Lenten fortyhours Eucharistic devotion. (38) The precise correlation between Eucharistic veneration and reception is a topic for another study, yet this historical trend does seem to suggest that Trent's decrees and its emphasis on a visual theology of the Eucharist did not fall on deaf ears. At the very least, such historical trends challenge any strict Trent--Vatican II dichotomy, if for one simple reason: the exhortation to receive what one sees, as found in Trent, is not far removed from the additional call to become what one receives. Bearing in mind Henri de Lubac's famous axiom published in 1944 that the "Eucharist makes the Church," (39) one might posit that behind Vatican II's emphasis on a visible ecclesiology is Trent's own emphasis on a visible Eucharist. But then, this too is another story.
In sum, this study has maintained that one must read Trent's two decrees on the Eucharist together as a theological whole. Although textually separate, the decrees were historically formulated side-by-side, answering different questions about the same sacrament. In terms of content, the two decrees converge on a visual theology of the Eucharist, culminating in a joint exhortation for frequent communion. Both focus on how Christ remains visibly present amid the humdrum of humanity. Together the decrees form a vision of the real, true Christ permanently making himself present by offering the eternal sacrifice of his Cross. Above all else, Trent inquires into how the invisible, ascended Christ continues to dwell and act among us.This merging of a permanent Real Presence with an eternal sacrifice fostered a visual theology for the faithful, one potentially inspiring manifold manifestations in baroque piety and art. Overall Trent's vision of the Eucharist seeks to articulate the sacrament in a manner intelligible not only to the mind and the heart but also the eye. In the end, the decrees seek the Christ among us, the Christ present under visible signs, the Christ whose presence is anything but what it seems to be.
(1.) Such a view, I would argue, is found in Giuseppe Alberigo, "From the Council of Trent to 'Tridentinism,'" in From Trent to Vatican II: Historical and Theological Investigations, ed. Raymond F. Bulman and Frederick J. Parrella (New York: Oxford University Press, 2006), 19-37 (especially pages 28-29). With respect to the Eucharist, such a tension has become all the more pronounced with Pope Benedict XVI's motu proprio Summorum Pontificum (July 7, 2007) relaxing previous restrictions on the Tridentine rite. For a view challenging Alberigo's arguably monolithic understanding of "Tridentinism," see Harm Klueting, "Tridentinischer Katholizismus--Katholizismus nach dem Konzil von Trient," Schweizerische Zeitschrift fur Religionsund Kulturgeschichte 103 (2009): 13-26.
(2.) This is not to say that most authors refer to only one decree or the other, but that in most works scholars tend to focus either on Trent's theology of transubstantiation or its theology of sacrifice. In the first category one finds the social-historical work of Josef Wohlmuth, Realprasenz und Transsubstantiation im Konzil von Trient: Eine historisch-kritische Analyse der Canones 1-4 der Sessio XIII (2 vols; Frankfurt am Main: Peter Lang, 1975). In Catholic scholarship, the majority of recent works on Trent and the Eucharist address the topic of sacrifice as an ecumenical problem. See, for instance, David N. Power, The Sacrifice We Offer: The Tridentine Dogma and its Reinterpretation (New York: Crossroad, 1987). Edward Kilmartin and Robert Daly offer a much more negative assessment of Trent on sacrifice, arguing that Trent's doctrines are ecclesiologically problematic since it is the Church and not the priest who "makes" the Eucharist. For Kilmartin, Trent presents a "history-of-religions" expiatory model of sacrifice that does not appropriate the radical redefinition of sacrifice brought about by the "Christ event." Edward J. Kilmartin, The Eucharist in the West: History and Theology, ed. Robert J. Daly (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 1998), 169-78. Daly places Trent's outdated view of sacrifice at the feet of Robert Bellarmine. Robert Daly, "Robert Bellarmine and Post- Tridentine Eucharistic Theology," Theological Studies 61 (2001): 239-60.
(3.) Canons and Decrees of the Council of Trent: Original Text with English Translation, trans. H. J. Schroeder (St. Louis, MO: B. Herder, 1941), 73. All English translations in this study are from Schroeder.
(4.) Hubert Jedin, History of the Council of Trent, vol. 2, The First Session at Trent: 1545-47, trans. Ernest Graf (New York: Thomas Nelson and Sons, 1961), 374, 380. It is important to note that decrees of Trent more or less function accordingly: "doctrinal chapters" come first, then "canons" with anathemas. In the case of this session, Jedin points out that the doctrinal chapters (Lehrekapiteln) were derived from the canons, despite the ordering of the final text. For my purposes, I will focus almost exclusively on the doctrinal chapters, limiting my analysis to the decree's positive dogmatic content.
(5.) Ibid., 391. "The canons rested on the theological foundation laid by scholasticism, but in themselves they were not scholasticism but definitions of things that must be believed."
(6.) Herbert Jedin, Geschichte des Konzils von Trient, vol. 3 Bologneser Tagung (1547/48)--Zweite Trienter Tagungsperiode (1551/52) (Freiburg: Herder, 1970), 37.
(7.) Ibid., 41.
(8.) Ibid., 280. Although separate articles had been drawn up in 1551, the council eventually reused the Bologna articles at the proposal of the papal legate. These became the canons such that, once again, the decree was derived from the canon
(9.) Robert Bireley, The Refashioning of Catholicism, 1450-1700: A Reassessment of the Counter Reformation (Washington, DC: Catholic University of America Press, 1999), 50.
(10.) Canons and Decrees, 74, 351.
(11.) Ibid., 75, 352.
(12.) Ibid., 77, 353-54.
(13.) Ibid., 78, 355.
(14.) A thorough treatment of "spiritual communion" in the Middle Ages that dispels many modern misconceptions about its practice and purpose can be found in Charles Caspers, "The Western Church during the Late Middle Ages: Augenkommunion or Popular Mysticism?" in Bread of Heaven: Customs and Practices Surrounding Holy Communion: Essays in the History of Liturgy and Culture, ed. Charles Caspers, Gerard Lukken, and Gerard Rouwhorst (Liturgica condenda 3; Kampen, The Netherlands: Kok Pharos, 1995), 83-98.
(15.) Canons and Decrees, 79.
(16.) Smalcald Articles of 1537, sec. II, art. 2. Theological debates over the sacrificial nature of the Mass had a long history prior to the Reformation. For an enlightening summary of the various scholastic schools on the matter, see Nicholas Thompson, Eucharistic Sacrifice and Patristic Tradition in the Theology of Martin Bucer, 1534-46 (Boston: Brill, 2005), 33-72.
(17.) J. F. McHugh, "The Sacrifice of the Mass at the Council of Trent," in Sacrifice and Redemption: Durham Essays in Theology, ed. S. W. Sykes (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1991), 162. For a more nuanced analysis of the Protestant understanding of the sacrifice of the Mass, especially with respect to Martin Bucer and the Regensburg Colloquy of 1541, see Thompson, Eucharistic Sacrifice, 167-205.
(18.) Preliminary discussions on Eucharistic sacrifice had already occurred at Bologna in 1547. Erwin Iserloh places these nascent developments within the context of the final decree in "Messe als Repraesentatio Passionis in der Diskussion des Konzils von Trient wahrend der Sitzungsperiode in Bologna 1547," in Liturgie: Gestalt undVollzug (Munich: M. Hueber, 1963), 138-46. Iserloh shows how even the earliest debates entertained the idea that the Eucharistic sacrifice participates in the sacrifice of the Cross and, in a sense, represents it as "Realmoment." According to McHugh, this is the understanding of Eucharistic sacrifice that came to dominate Catholic theology after the council, despite the decree's ambiguity. McHugh, "Sacrifice," 174.
(19.) McHugh, "Sacrifice," 159. For instance, the decrees of Session XXII and XXIII emphasize Christ's lineage in the priesthood of Melchizedek as the biblical foundation for the sacrament in terms of sacrifice.
(20.) Iserloh, "Messe," 142-43.
(21.) McHugh, "Sacrifice," 169.
(22.) Ibid., 170. In fact, it was Cardinal Girolamo Seripando, one of the few members who lived through the council's proceedings from beginning to end, who informed the papal legates about Aquinas's opinion, thus hoping to resolve the theological debate on the matter.
(23.) Ibid., 174. When a draft was presented on August 6, 1562, the nature of the Last Supper came to the fore again. Was the "first mass" a sacrifice? At this point in the records, McHugh pinpoints a fascinating development that determined the final decree. The first canon of the original August 6 decree read: "If anyone should say that the mass is not a sacrifice ... anathama sit." The revised canons from the September 5 decree effectively reinserted Campeggio's opinion from 1552 and read: "If anyone should say that in the mass there is not offered to God a true and proper sacrifice."
(24.) Ludwig Ott, Fundamentals of Catholic Dogma, ed. James C. Bastible, trans. Patrick Lynch (St. Louis, MO: B. Herder, 1960), 407.
(25.) Canons and Decrees, 144-45. Emphasis added.
(26.) Ibid., 145, 417-18.
(27.) Ibid., 146, 351, "sola offerendi ratione diversa:" these words--at least conceptually--may come directly from Aquinas. See Thompson, Eucharistic Sacrifice, 53.
(28.) Canons and Decrees, 146-48. Likewise, after the canons one finds a curious, seemingly appended decree on the removal of avaricious, idolatrous, and superstitious practices from the Mass that might obscure its true nature. See, "Decree concerning the things to be observed and avoided in the celebration of mass," 150-52.
(29.) Ibid., 148, 421.
(30.) Ibid., 418. Here I play with the words, cognizant that "permaneret" literally means "would remain" rather than "make permanent." Nevertheless, there is at least a conceptual correlation between continuing something and making that same thing permanent as it is continued.
(31.) In her dissertation and translation on Charles Borromeo's influential Instructiones, Evelyn Voelker notes that the same liturgical model of tabernacle and altar is found in the Constitutions of Gian Matteo Giberti (1495-1543), bishop of Verona and influential Catholic reformer. Evelyn C. Voelker, "Charles Borromeo's Instructiones Fabricae et Supellectilis Ecclesiasticae, 1577: A Translation with Commentary and Analysis," (PhD diss., Syracuse University, 1977), 165. This fact would suggest that Borromeo, who promoted this tabernacle-altar model after the council, was influenced by prior liturgical and architectural models in Italy. Robert Senecal argues that Borromeo's 1575 visit to Rome for the jubilee year also influenced his Instructiones. Robert Senecal, "Carlo Borromeo's Instructiones Fabricae et Supellectilis Ecclesiasticae and Its Origins in the Rome of His Time," Papers of the British School at Rome 68 (2000): 244.
(32.) Edward Foley, From Age to Age: How Christians Have Celebrated the Eucharist (Rev. ed.; Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 2008), 276.
(33.) As hinted above, art historians credit the influence of Borromeo's Instructiones (1577), a two-volume treatise on liturgical and architectural norms in his monumental work, Acta Ecclesiae Mediolanensis. John O'Malley confirms the influence of Borromeo's Instructiones by way of its popularity among the clerical elite in "The Council of Trent: Myths, Misunderstandings, and Misinformation," in Spirit, Style, Story: Essays Honoring John W. Padberg, S.J., ed. Thomas M. Lucas (Chicago: Loyola Press, 2002), 222. Borromeo had a deep, personal relationship with the Society of Jesus as noted in R. Po-Chia Hsia, The World of Catholic Renewal 1540-1770, 2nd ed. (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005), 112.
(34.) On the significance of the Gesu, see Gauvin Alexander Bailey, Between Renaissance and Baroque: Jesuit Art in Rome, 1565-1610 (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2003), 224-60; and Aurelio Dionisi, Il Gesu di Roma: Breve storia e illustrazione della chiesa-madre dei gesuiti, 3rd ed., ed. Gualberto Giachi (Rome: ADP, 2005).
(35.) On the St. Michaelskirche of Munich, see Jeffrey C. Smith, SensuousWorship: Jesuits and the Art of the Early Catholic Reformation in Germany (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2002), 57-102.
(36.) Hsia, World of Catholic Renewal, 168.
(37.) On the Jesuit promotion of frequent communion, see John O'Malley, The First Jesuits (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1993), 152-57. O'Malley also notes its early promotion in Milan under Antonio Maria Zaccaria (152). On the rise of frequent communion in general, see Andreas Heinz, "Liturgical Rules and Popular Religious Customs Surrounding Holy Communion between the Council of Trent and the Catholic Restoration in the 19th Century," in Bread of Heaven, 122-24.
(38.) Dieter J. Weiss, Katholische Reform und Gegenreformation: Ein Uberblick (Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 2005), 171-72.
(39.) Henri de Lubac, Corpus Mysticum: The Eucharist and the Church in the Middle Ages, ed. Laurence Paul Hemming and Susan Frank Parsons, trans. Gemma Simmonds and Richard Price (London: SCM, 2006 ), 88.
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|Author:||Monson, Paul G.|
|Publication:||Logos: A Journal of Catholic Thought and Culture|
|Date:||Sep 22, 2012|
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