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Date: 2007-07-19

Post-Trent Churches; Vatican Bookworms

Structures Reflect the Tridentine Liturgy

By Elizabeth Lev

ROME, JULY 19, 2007 (Zenit.org).- Benedict XVI's long-awaited apostolic letter "Summorum Pontificum" on the use of the missal promulgated by John XXIII finally came out this month to a myriad of reactions and commentary. Some have been offering Masses of thanksgiving since July 7, the day the letter was released, some have been openly critical, and others think that really not much will change.

In this document, the Holy Father decreed that any Roman Catholic priest is permitted to celebrate Tridentine Mass. Parishioners may request Masses celebrated in the "old" form.

Last week, on the anniversary of the apostolic constitution "Quo Primum," issued July 14, 1570, as a papal bull by Pius V, it struck me how many of Rome's astounding churches were built after the codification of the Tridentine Mass.

In this light, the return of the older form of the liturgy can help to understand and appreciate the grandeur of these churches.

In the wake of the Council of Trent, 50 new churches were built in Rome. But the one that best represents the Tridentine age is the Gesù built from 1568-1584.

Fruit of the collaboration between the newly-formed Jesuit order and Cardinal Alexander Farnese, the Gesù embodies St. Charles Borromeo's prescriptions for sacred edifices to showcase the new spirit of the liturgy.

One of the primary concerns was acoustics, as the solemn Masses were completely sung and the sound of the chants was meant to fill the church. Trent's decision to retain Latin as the sole language of liturgical prayer underscored the universality of the Mass in a world of ever-expanding horizons. The rites in Asia, America, Europe and Africa used the same language as Rome and linked the most far-flung areas to the See of Peter.

Sound also mattered because preaching became more important during this period. The Jesuits were instrumental in introducing greater emphasis on homilies and in the huge nave of the Gesù, there was space for hundreds to gather around the pulpit to hear their stirring preachers.

Rood screens, which separated the presbytery from the nave, were removed after Trent, to allow the congregation to see the altar and liturgy more clearly. The altar was raised up on steps and the sanctuary defined by a low rail. The faithful were awed to see the majesty of the Mass; the priest, deacon and sub deacon lined up at the altar, the clouds of incense sweetening the air and the elaborate marble tabernacle nestled in the apse. For the Rome of 1585, the Gesù was a revolutionary structure while still respecting the tradition of the early Christian Church.

The liturgy and the Church worked together to emphasize the re-presentation of the sacrifice of Christ. At the altar, placed against the wall, the celebrant recited the Eucharistic prayer in silence. From the nave, the faithful saw the priest's numerous gestures; 27 signs of the cross, five genuflections and most significantly, the raising of the Host amid incense and ringing bells.

The altar was a block of stone, resembling a tomb or sepulcher, vividly reminding the flock of Christ's death and burial. In the Gesù, Giovanni Battista Gaulli frescoed the initials of the Latin translation of Holy Name of Jesus -- "IHS" -- in a burst of light above the altar. This glorious image helped the people to understand Christ's triumph over sin and death.

With the same intensity of St. Ignatius' spiritual exercises, the Tridentine churches and liturgies invoked all the senses, exhorting the faithful to " love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength" (Mark 12:30).

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A 3-Year Goodbye

While school children and college students gleefully deserted their libraries and study halls for summer vacation, this week scholars bid a sad goodbye to the Vatican Library. This year's summer closing, which began July 13, will last until 2010.

The extended closing is due to the pressing need for restoration and consolidation of the library structure and collection. By the time the works are complete, the Vatican library will be more modern and user-friendly for the hundreds of researchers from all over the world who consult the treasure trove of manuscripts and documents.

The idea of the Vatican Library was formed by Pope Nicholas V in 1450 when the Pope started collecting and organizing manuscripts. But the actual foundation took place under Pope Sixtus IV della Rovere who appointed the first "gubernator et custos," Bartolomeo Platina, in 1475. This visionary Pope, who also built the Sistine Chapel, swelled the collection to 3,500 volumes, the largest library in Italy at the time.

The immense collection was given its home by Pope Sixtus V (1585-1590) who built the present library palace in the Belvedere courtyard and decorated the stunning reading room still visible in the Vatican Museums today.

The library was raided by Napoleon in 1797 and one can still discern the faint stamp of the Bibliotèque Nationale Française under the Vatican Library mark in several of the more precious volumes.

Today the collection numbers 1.6 million texts and 75,000 manuscripts. While laughable compared to the Library of Congress in the United States, it is the quality, not the quantity that counts here.

The Vatican Library contains some of the rarest manuscripts in the world, including Cicero and Virgil as well as Gospel fragments dating as far back as the second century. It also boasts exquisitely illuminated works and a tiny papyrus note book, the oldest book in existence. The Codex Vaticanus, the fourth-century Greek translation of the Bible, is one of the oldest Bibles in the world.

The library also has an immense numismatic collection, featuring 300,000 coins and medals.

The three-year restoration project aims to create more space for the ever-growing number of scholars that need its resources as well as restoring and rendering more modern its 16th-century home. A climate-control system will be installed, the restoration labs renewed and the manuscript depository has to be brought up to standards of the European Union.

It is a difficult sacrifice for researchers, especially those who are in the middle of working on doctoral theses or books. During this period, however, Archbishop Raffaele Farina, the prefect of the Vatican Library, has promised that personnel will be available through e-mail correspondence for photographic or digital reproductions, and that they will continue to put manuscripts online. More information can be found on the library Web site.

Many disappointed tourists, teachers and students who gazed up at scaffolding during the Sistine Chapel's 10-year restoration discovered that the long sacrifice was well worth the wait. Hopefully, the restoration of the Vatican Library will be as fortunate.

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Rags to Red Cross

Some saints really stand the test of time. No matter how many centuries may divide us, certain saints lived through struggles and difficulties that we, many centuries later, can still relate to. This is particularly the case of St. Camillus de Lellis, whose feast falls on July 18.

Benedict XVI has already made this observation, citing St. Camillus in his first encyclical, "Deus Caritas Est," among St. Francis of Assisi, St. John of the Cross, Teresa of Calcutta and others as "lasting models of charity for all people of good will."

What makes St. Camillus unique among this holy lineup, is that up until the age of 32, no one would have guessed that the strange-looking, troubled young man had such a glorious destiny.

Camillus de Lellis was born in 1550 the son of a mercenary soldier. His mother died when Camillus was still a child. His father was a poor role model. An inveterate gambler, he was indifferent to which side he fought for; he even took part in the sack of Rome of 1527.

Raised in what modern jargon would dub a "dysfunctional home," young Camillus grew up with little education, chronic foot abscesses and a gambling addiction. To pay his debts, he followed in his father's footsteps, also becoming a soldier of fortune. At one of his lower moments, he lost his sword, gun and powder flasks -- the tools of his trade. Camillus was destitute in body and spirit.

The conversion of Camillus did not come overnight. He tried to join the Franciscans, failed and returned to his old ways. He rose and fell many times before setting his feet firmly on the right path.

Rome played a big part in Camillus' conversion. He came to the hospice of St. James of the Incurable, a few steps from today's shopping mecca of the Spanish Steps, looking for treatment for his feet. In return he offered to help care for the sick and dying in the hospital.

As he gave more of his time, love and attention to the ill, he began to heal both spiritually and physically. He stopped gambling and his infirmities bothered him less.

Providence sent Camillus an extraordinary spiritual director. St. Phillip Neri met the lost young man and took him under his wing.

Camillus found himself wanting to become more, so he could offer more. The 6-foot-6-inch lanky wastrel went to school, learning his grammar lessons along the bright-eyed school boys of the Jesuit Roman College. In this setting, he learned not only letters, but humility.

He was finally ordained a priest in 1584 and founded his order, the Brothers of a Happy Death. Although he treated the sick and poor, he gave special attention to comforting the dying.

His checkered past served him in his work. No case was too far gone for him to take an interest, because he remembered how lost he had been. He could recognize the signs of addictions immediately and thus was able to understand and help people who would be dismissed by others.

In "Deus Caritas Est," the Holy Father reflected that saints demonstrate how "those who draw near to God do not withdraw from men, but rather become truly close to them." St. Camillus' "self-help" -- to put it in contemporary terms -- focused on seeing Jesus in other people rather than brooding over himself; counsel that serves well in our own age.

The Brothers of a Happy Death in plague areas, disaster zones or hospitals were easily distinguished by the red crosses they wore on the front of their uniforms.

Even today, the Red Cross is synonymous with medical aid, although the origin of the modern symbol is apparently different. The founder of the modern Red Cross, Henri Dunant, was Swiss. He witnessed the suffering of the wounded during the battle of Solferino in 1859 and recruited nearby villagers to help tend to the fallen.

The initiative of Dunant was ratified during the Geneva Convention and the red cross on a white field, the inverse of the Swiss flag, was chosen as their symbol in honor of Dunant's origins.

Whether the two symbols are related or not, for half a millennium, the red cross has brought hope to the afflicted and solace to the suffering.

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Elizabeth Lev teaches Christian art and architecture at Duquesne University's Italian campus. She can be reached at lizlev@zenit.org.