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FEATURES OF THE MEDIEVAL MASS
Allegory
From the ninth century, the meaning of the mass was made more accessible to the great majority who knew no Latin by highly developed allegorical frameworks, in particular those of Amalar of Metz (780-850), De ecclesiatices officiis; and Guillaume Durand, bishop of Mende (1230-1296), Rationale divinorum officiorum. These two collections remained influential throughout the Middle Ages and even beyond, and were focused particularly on the passion and death of Jesus (for example, the elevation stood for him being raised up on the cross).. The silent Canon was interpreted by reference to the Holy of Holies in the Jewish temple, which only the High Priest was permitted to enter. A famous rubric speaks of the celebrant (who in this case happened to be the pope) ‘entering’ the Canon in silence, as if it were a place.[1]
The allegorical interpretations were so detailed that they must have demanded almost total attention..The opening rites of the mass represented the Incarnation, with the priest taking on the role of Jesus, appropriately enough, as priests were often referred to as alter Christus, ‘a second Christ’. His leaving the sacristy was likened to Jesus coming forth from sitting at the right hand of the Father in heaven, then from the womb of the Virgin Mary. His vestments represented the incarnation, the human nature he had put on. The candles carried by the two acolytes were the Law and the Prophets respectively, predicting his coming. The gospel book, carried in procession, stood for the New Testament, and the sub-deacon carrying it represented John the Baptist, preparing the way for the Lord. The thurifer symbolised humanity praying to God for salvation, the incense rising from the thurible he was swinging being their prayers, rising to heaven. The Introit, sung by the choir during the entrance procession, was specifically the words of prophets and other Old Testament figures, longing for the coming of the Messiah. And that is just the entrance procession.! [2]
Allegorical interpretation of the priest’s vestments was still current in the 1960s and was usually explained in the front of missals. It was markedly influenced by the late medieval cult of the passion and suffering of Christ as the price of our sins, particularly sexual ones, for example, the cincture or girdle which gathered the long white alb (itself a symbol of purity) around the waist, symbolised keeping the passions in check, and when putting it on, the priest prayed accordingly. [3]
Eucharistic piety
The 11th century saw a theological dispute about the Eucharist, which ended with the orthodox position confirmed, and Berenger/Berengarius of Tours (died 1080) condemned for maintaining that the change brought about during mass was a spiritual rather than an actual event. This confirmation of the teaching that the bread and wine become the body and blood of Jesus Christ contributed to the growth of the cult of the Blessed Sacrament, focused on the Consecration and the Real Presence, coupled with infrequent Communion. The medieval faithful wanted above all to ‘see God’ (the host) lifted up at the elevation. They took to their hearts the idea of transubstantiation, itself a product of the resolution of the dispute about the Eucharist, and officially adopted by the church at the Fourth Lateran Council in 1215, the Council, which decided every Catholic, must go to confession and Communion at least once a year.
After the arrival of printing, more people read devotional books during the mass. They had to be attentive enough to stand for the Gospel, the Preface and the Pater Noster and to listen out for the bell announcing the imminence of the consecration. Prayers preparing for that holiest of moments were regular feature of late medieval prayer books. As Duffy puts it, when congregations looked up at the consecrated host, they felt they were present at Calvary.[4] Such was the need to gaze at and adore the host that worshippers would shout out, urging the priest to lift it higher, so they could see it more clearly.[5]
Historians of the liturgy and other critics of the medieval mass speak of it being in a language the people could not understand. This is of course true as far as it goes, but we should remember that there is a difference between saying that the people did not understand Latin and claiming that they did not understand the mass. The understanding the faithful of the Middle Ages had of the mass stemmed from a deeply felt sense of the holiness of Communion and of the divine presence, as well as an understanding of what adoration meant, coupled with a strong consciousness of individual sinfulness. This is not to argue that their view was preferable to the modern one, it does however caution us against condescension across the centuries. Nor was it necessary to know Latin, as the mass was rich in non-verbal communication, including allegories, processions, symbolic posture and gesture, music, the use of incense and vestments, all contributing to the sense of being present at a dramatic and above all holy communal event, whether one received Communion or not.
Infrequent Communion
Infrequent Communion was a long-standing phenomenon. A synod at Agde in the South of France was trying to enforce the reception of Communion at least three times a year as early as the year 506, specifying Christmas, Easter and Pentecost, as the feasts when the faithful should receive. We can therefore conclude that most people went less often than three times. In the seventh century, there was a concerted attempt to reintroduce Holy Communion on Sundays in the Carolingian (Frankish) Empire, especially during Lent, but its effects did not last.[7#
Viewing the consecrated host (and it was specifically the host, the elevation of the chalice followed later) came to be regarded as a sacramental act. A priest complained in Alsace in 1485 that crowds arrived at the church just in time for the Consecration, then left immediately afterwards[8], while in cities they rushed from church to church, trying to take in as many consecrations as they could.[9] The intense devotional need behind the enthusiasm was recognised by the official church through the introduction of the feast of Corpus Christi (the Body of Christ) during the 13th century. Originating in modern Belgium as a result of the mystical experiences of a female visionary, Juliana of Liege (d 1250), it became a feast throughout the church in 1264. Processions in honour of the Blessed Sacrament on the feast day arose spontaneously during the succeeding decades until they became generalised.[10]
The name of the feast reminds us that when they did go to Communion, they were restricted to the host, a trend which became evident during the 12th and 13th centuries, the chalice being officially reserved for the clergy from 1415, according to a decision of the Council of Constance. This was partly the result of theological disputes as to whether Christ’s body and blood were separately present in both the bread and wine. The heightened respect for Holy Communion also meant that when the faithful did receive it, they did so kneeling (from the 10th century), the host being placed on their tongue without their touching it from the ninth. (It would have been difficult for communicants to drink from the chalice while kneeling.) Great care was taken to prevent any fragments of host falling to the ground and in recovering any that did, while spillages from the chalice would have been less easy to clean up. These (over-) scrupulous outward signs of respect were still current in the early 1960s, Recipients prepared for the sacrament by fasting and going to Confession. The frequency of Communion was therefore affected by access to Confession, and by the requirement of penance and self-denial, including restrictions reminiscent of Old Testament rules on 'uncleanness'. The faithful had to abstain from the consumption of meat, and married people from sexual relations for several days before receiving Holy Communion. Menstruating women were not allowed to receive it at all.[11]
The liturgical consequence of infrequent Communion was that the Consecration became even more the centre and high point of the mass, a perception reinforced by the elevation and the priest’s genuflections before and after each one (which began to appear from the late fifteenth century). People confessed once a year at Easter time as the church required, the minimum having become the norm, and they naturally wanted to receive Communion as soon as possible afterwards, having just obtained absolution for their sins. At the end of the sixteenth century in Lille, women are described going to Confession during mass and then immediately hurrying straight to the altar to ensure they received Communion while still in a state of grace. [12
Through the rest of the year, the faithful usually practised what can be termed an indirectly expressed Eucharistic piety, honouring the sacrament by worshipping the consecrated bread and wine. The medieval laity’s experience of the mass was certainly different from the clergy’s, but it had its own logic. Nobody can doubt the piety of the Catholics of the late medieval church, a piety demonstrated by their very reluctance to receive Communion. Liturgists who dismiss their worship as being guilty of ‘individualism’ forget that the context of the medieval mass was intensely communal. It was experienced with their family and among all their neighbours in the same church every Sunday and on all major feasts, which were also usually marked by (often boisterous) secular popular customs. Guilds and fraternities were a significant element of both religious and community life, unselfconsciously combining social activities with devotion to the sacrament and charity. They did not restrict their activities to members but provided housing for the poor, built hospitals and schools as well as looking after local infrastructure for the common good, such as bridges. The community was not restricted to the living, and fraternities prayed for deceased members.[13] From the fourteenth century, the veneration of the sacrament was communally expressed by Corpus Christi guilds and the processions for which they were responsible following the introduction of the feast. The procession involved the priest carrying the consecrated host displayed in a monstrance accompanied by all of the faithful of the parish along a route with ‘stations’, or stopping points, at which he blessed all four points of the compass with it.[14]]
Votive masses
One of the many features of medieval Catholicism criticised by both the Protestant reformers and modern Catholic liturgists is the votive mass, prevalent from the ninth century, and another import from the Frankish church. These were offered up for a private intention of an individual not usually present, who paid a fee for what was a service. Such masses proliferated: there were so many priests, all obliged to say mass once a day, so the typical votive mass was said without a congregation, which was represented just by a server, and celebrated at a side-altar rather than the high altar (it was quite possible for several masses to coincide or overlap). Churches therefore needed side-altars: Magdeburg Cathedral had no less than forty-eight of them in 1500.[15]
Yet it was the stripped-down private votive mass, which was to become the standard form as the missa lecta or Low Mass. The medieval sung Roman liturgy was expensive in people and in resources, requiring at least three priests (celebrant, deacon and sub-deacon) accompanied by other clerics, as well as acolytes and lectors, cantors and professional-standard clerical choirs (scholae).
NOTES
[1] LANG (3) 133
[2] MONTI 29 (a composite drawing on several allegorical works)
[3] On allegorical practices and beliefs associated with vesting and vestments, see JUNGMANN vol 1 276-290
[4] DUFFY (1) 91
[5] JUNGMANN (1) 121, note 101.
6] JUNGMANN (2) 361.
7] JUNGMANN (2) 207
8 JUNGMANN (1) 121
[10] MONTI 502-504
[11] JUNGMANN (2) 215
[12] MARTIN 265
[13] PICKSTOCK 145
[14] On Corpus Christi Processions see MONTI 502-518
20 JUNGMANN (1) 224