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REPRESENTING MYSTERY: PANIS ANGELICUS IN ART

By Elizabeth Lev

After the curtains closed on the Year of the Eucharist and the lights on the Eucharistic synod dimmed, Catholics were left with a lingering question: How can we keep the spirit of this grace-filled time alive? How shall we maintain our focus on the Eucharist as "source and summit" of the life and mission of the church?

Over two thousand years of Church history, those questions have arisen again and again. And some of the most illuminating, beautiful, and lasting answers emerged after the close of Council of Trent in 1563. The Council fathers had faced tremendous threats to the Eucharist in the wake of the Reformation. In fact, denial of the Real Presence was the gravest heresy of the era. The Tridentine fathers responded emphatically, underscoring Christ's real presence in the Eucharist, and strongly encouraging adoration of the Blessed Sacrament just as "all the angels of God adore him" (See Council of Trent, Session 13 [Oct. 11, 1551] chs. I, V).

While further recommending Liturgy, Reconciliation and the active celebration of feast days as means to concentrate the attention of the faithful on the Eucharist, the last Tridentine session analyzed another tool for stimulating Eucharistic piety---art.

In their December 1563 meeting, the Tridentine Council Fathers reflected on the use of sacred images. They lauded the pastoral benefits of sacred images "not only because the people are thereby admonished of the benefits and gifts bestowed upon them by Christ," but also they "may be excited to adore and love God, and to cultivate piety." (Trent Session 25, Dec. 4, 1563)

As the twenty-year long council closed, art had been affirmed as a means of educating the faithful to the importance of the Eucharist. But the question remained: how that would translate into effective imagery or architecture.

Fortunately, like the Holy Spirit at Pentecost setting the disciples aflame with their apostolic mission, artistic inspiration was not long in coming. It spread through high-ranking prelates, new religious orders, lay associations and artists, propelling them to create new designs and images emphasizing the Eucharist. The ensuing period not only produced some of our greatest art treasures, but a veritable visual catechesis.

St. Charles Borromeo, Archbishop of Milan (1538-1584), immediately proposed some practical guidelines for religious art. He composed the Instructiones Fabricae et Supellectilis Ecclesiasticae, a handbook for applying the Tridentine decrees to sacred architecture. In this popular text, St. Charles Borromeo emphasized that the church should be prominently situated, have high windows and be large enough to welcome pilgrims on feast days. He pays special attention to the sanctuary and the Eucharist. The nave must focus on the main altar where the Blessed Sacrament should be kept. The sanctuary of the main altar should be raised up on a platform, reached by stairs and separated from the rest of the church by a railing. The sacred Host ought to be visible to all but at the same time hold a distinctive place of honor in the church.

The 2005 Synod fathers, echoing St Charles, also stress the importance of the tabernacle. In Proposition 28, they state that the Eucharist "must have a noble, clearly visible place in the church, artistically pleasing and conducive to prayer."

Borromeo's treatise found its greatest physical expression in the Jesuit church of the Gesù, built from 1568 to1584. Designed by renowned architect Vignola, the funding for this project was mainly provided by Cardinal Alessandro Farnese, who had served on Tridentine commissions with St. Charles Borromeo. An initial tug-of-war between Cardinal's desire for grandeur and the Jesuit's more pragmatic concerns resulted in a revolutionary plan, which would become the model for many churches built over the next century.

During the construction, Cardinal Farnese began a personal journey to holiness, forsaking a self-indulgent, luxurious lifestyle for a life of ascetic austerity described as "tutto spirituale," (all spiritual) by his astonished contemporaries. The Jesuits were ever present, assisting the Cardinal in his radical spiritual conversion.

The Gesù's design included a large barrel-vaulted nave intended to hold a huge congregation. Indeed, it was the largest building made in Rome since the sack of the city in 1527. The high, curved ceiling not only conferred majesty to the edifice but also channeled the attention of the faithful towards the tabernacle on the main altar. The building plan also incorporated side chapels to accommodate Masses offered for the souls of the dead, a practice strongly encouraged by Trent. These interconnecting chapels create a sort of side aisle and consequently never detract from the main axis of nave and altar.

Following Borromeo's guidelines, the sanctuary stands on a platform approached by three steps and surrounded by a railing. In 1550, St. Phillip Neri imported the custom of the 40 Hour's Devotion from Milan. Gesù's marvelous stone tabernacle by Giacomo della Porta (today in the Thurles Cathedral) furnished a magnificent setting for this beloved practice.

The 27th Proposition made by the 2005 Synod fathers explains that church architecture, "translates the spiritual meaning of the Church's rites into comprehensible and concrete forms." Moreover, they state, the study of sacred art "can illuminate theological reflection, enrich catechesis and awaken that taste for symbolic language that facilitates sacramental mystagogy." In this light, the Gesù's importance as a visual education in church design becomes apparent.

But once the worship space was established, what of the artwork to illustrate the importance of the Eucharist in Christian life? Again, Post-Tridentine Rome produced a solution. Two Roman altarpieces poignantly express the centrality of the Eucharist.

In the 700-year-old church of Santa Maria sopra Minerva, Pope Clement VIII built an elegant chapel in honor of his mother and father. For the altarpiece, the Pope called painter Federico Barocci out of semi-retirement in Urbino to execute the work. Barocci labored on the canvas from 1603 until 1607, producing one of his last masterpieces. Barocci found the commission difficult from the start, disturbed that he was to paint the Institution of Eucharist at the Last Supper for a tall, narrow space, when ordinarily the subject called for a broad expanse of wall, like Leonardo da Vinci's version in Milan. At the Pope's insistence, Barocci reorganized the subject and created a new manner of focusing on the Host.

One of the most gifted painters of the Counter-Reformation, Barocci came to Rome at the age of twenty where he met Michelangelo who praised and encouraged him. A deeply religious man, Barocci also spent time with St. Phillip Neri who loved his paintings, finding them very conducive to meditation. Barocci's ability to clearly represent a holy scene while using vivid color to excite the senses and emotions, earned him the title among art historians of the first Counter-Reformation painter.

In his Institution of the Eucharist, Barocci translates Borromeo's architectural ideas into painting, creating a progressive focus on the Blessed Sacrament. The composition is divided into three triangles framing the Host. The base of first triangle spreads along the lower canvas anchored by two busy servants carrying grapes and washing pots. The grapes introduce the imagery of the Eucharist as originating in wine, which will become the blood of Christ. The servants stand on three steps, a reminder of Borromeo's instructions regarding the sanctuary. The apex of all three triangles is the head of Christ, which emanates three rays of light--- the culmination of the triangular symbolism of the Trinity.

The Apostles Peter and John kneeling before Christ form the second pyramid. John bows low as Peter gazes adoringly at the Host. Their gray tunics are covered by bright mantles in fiery yellows and oranges. These bright flashes amid darkness underscore the ardent desire of the faithful for Communion with God.

Jesus' face and arms comprise the third triangle. He holds the Host before His heart, and the shining, white disc stands out against the red of his robe. The use of scarlet reinforces the idea of the Christ's Body and Blood. Pope

Clement VIII requested that the painting represent the Last Supper at night, to utilize the striking chiaroscuro contrasts recently developed by Caravaggio. Barocci rose to the occasion. Bright light streams in from the left, illuminating the robes of John and Peter to breathtaking effect. Judas sits alone on the right, framed by the worldly elements of the setting, wearing dim, mustard-colored robes. Silver plates lined across the walls mirror the silver pieces in Judas' hand. Barocci had originally included the devil tempting Judas in the painting, but the Pope wanted the figure removed. Careful observers can still descry a faint hand on Judas' shoulder and a shadowy head whispering in his ear.

Contemporaries noted that Barocci approached his art with slow and prayerful deliberation. His personal reflections, shaped and assisted by papal instruction, resulted in a painting carefully structured around the Eucharist, but simultaneously infused with an element of emotive mysticism which induced the faithful to contemplate the mystery of the Eucharist.

A short time later, another Eucharistic painting was commissioned, this time for the Church of San Girolamo della Carità owned by the confraternity of St. Jerome. This lay association dedicated to good works had gained tremendous prestige after St. Phillip Neri had lived on the church premises for 33 years. The Bolognese painter Domenichino obtained this important commission in 1611 through the offices of a powerful prelate, Bishop Giovanni Battista Agucchi. Domenichino lived in the Agucchi household in Rome and the two men had recently collaborated on a treatise on painting.

The subject of the commission was a very rare one. The Last Communion of St. Jerome represents St. Jerome receiving Holy Communion immediately before his death. The scene underscored St. Jerome's own warning that it is "dangerous to try to get to heaven without the Bread of Heaven," a theme dear to Trent.

Domenichino returned briefly to Bologna to study a version of the same subject executed by his former master Agostino Carracci. As he analyzed Carracci's work, Domenichino had no way of knowing that 10 years later his great rival, Lanfranco, while competing for a lucrative commission at Sant'Andrea della Valle, would accuse Domenichino of plagiarism. Nobody took the accusation seriously and art historians have long since acquitted the maligned painter. A comparison of the two works demonstrates that the originality of Domenichino's version lies precisely in his presentation of the Eucharist.

While both paintings contain a multitude of figures, the abundance of people in Carracci's version ultimately obscures the Host, which is tucked between a deacon's face and the priest's sleeve, while Domenichino effectively isolates the white Host against a dark background. As he organized the group, the nervous, fluttering followers of Jerome on the left contrast with the solemn, dignified poses of the priests on the right, placing the Eucharist in the center.

Carracci painted an aged yet robust St. Jerome, with taut muscles and strong gestures. Domenichino's Jerome, by contrast, is lifeless, legs crumpled beneath him while his upper body must be supported by his friends. Only the saint's eyes register life, as he gazes yearningly at the Host. Here, Domenichino accentuates the urgency of viaticum for the moribund Jerome.

Moreover, in Domenichino's painting, everyone is riveted on the Eucharist. Nobody seems distracted or looks away. Each figure, from flying angel to humblest disciple draws attention to the Blessed Sacrament.

The fundamental difference between the works stems from Domenchino's concentration on the content of the work, harnessing all his efforts to highlight the Eucharist, whereas Carracci was more interested in stylistic variations and novelties.

Not surprisingly, Domenchino was also a very devout man. His self-discipline was legendary. While his fellow artists Guido Reni and Francesco Albani were out gaming and drinking, Domenichino always retired early. Like Barocci, he worked in a slow, deliberate manner, prompting some of his rivals to call him "ox-like." But the painter always countered that he painted first and foremost "with his intellect." The Last Communion of St. Jerome gained such renown that Napoleon requisitioned it for his own collection in 1797. Returned to the papacy in 1815, it went to the Vatican Museums where it remains today. St. Jerome's fame among art connoisseurs has unfortunately obscured its true purpose as a valuable meditation on the Eucharist. St. Peter's Basilica, however, displays a mosaic copy for one of its altars so that the faithful attending Mass can still experience how art enhances the liturgy.

Among the many propositions of the recent Eucharistic synod, art understandably plays a minor role. The synod fathers do, however, suggest that "a deep knowledge of the forms that sacred art has been able to produce through the centuries" can help architects and artists to design for the service of Eucharistic life. (Proposition 27)

Over the past few centuries very little great art has been produced to celebrate the Eucharist, and even less has been done to promote such art. Yet the power of images to persuade and stimulate is more evident in our time than ever before. While we hopefully await the appearance of great new works of Eucharistic art, we could begin by renewing our appreciation of the ones we have.

Elizabeth Lev is an art historian in Rome.