Wednesday, May 6, 2020

Reservation of the Blessed Sacrament


William Herbert Freestone, “Alcuin Club Collections,” Volume 21 (The Sacrament Reserved), (London: A.R. Mowbray & Co., 1917), 120-143.


By following the common custom of reckoning the first six centuries together as an age by itself, it has been possible to sum up the evidence of that period, and to come to some tentative conclusions as to the origin and prevalence of official reservation of the Eucharist. This will help to carry us through the two hundred years of transition between the days of Gregory the Great and those of Charlemagne.


The seventh and the eighth centuries form the first half of the period that we have now to consider. This period, the early Middle Ages, is made up of two clearly-marked divisions of approximately equal length: the first is characterized by the ebb in learning and culture that succeeded the high-tide of the Fathers; the second, by the recovery that followed for a while the Carolingian reforms. We will take the evidence of these two divisions separately.


(a) The first division (c. A.D. 6oo–8oo) is, as regards our subject, an age of obscurity. It is still necessary to depend as largely upon supposition here as in the period that has just been discussed, for of direct evidence there is great scarcity. If the considerations proposed at the end of the last chapter have any value, we start with something approaching a conviction that official reservation for clinical communion in the one species of Bread was coming into common use, at any rate in certain localities. It does not seem possible to avoid the conclusion that a method which was so natural a development of the private custom, and had so many points of convenience to recommend it, must have been widely employed. We have found plentiful evidence for the existence of private reservation by the clergy and the religious during this period. Official the supply and ministration of the sacrament are restricted to, and regularized by, the normal ecclesiastical authorities.


Nevertheless, the only direct reference to official reservation appears to be contained in a canon of the Sixteenth Council of Toledo (A.D. 693). This council turned its attention to a number of careless habits that had grown up among the clergy in connection with the bread used in the mass. In the canon dealing with these abuses allusion is made incidentally, but unmistakeably, to the practice of reserving the Eucharist. Whether it was reserved for the use of the sick, or for one of those liturgical ceremonies which have been described in Part I of this work, is open to question. The sense of the relevant passage in the canon is as follows:


No bread shall be prepared for use at the altar other than such as is whole and wheaten, and this shall be made with care. Nor shall it be too large, but of moderate size, according to ecclesiastical custom; so that whatever remains over may be kept for reservation in a small receptacle (ad conservandum modico loculo . . . conserventur) without risk of harm; or else, in case it seem necessary, may be consumed without inconvenience.


For whatever purpose it was intended to be used, it will be noticed that the Bread alone is mentioned as being reserved; and this, so far as it goes, bears out the conclusions reached at the end of the last chapter as to the usage of the preceding period. Some little light is thrown upon the question by the canons of two other councils of this age, which dealt with the ministration of the Eucharist, and issued rulings that touch, though only indirectly, upon the matter of our inquiry. First, an earlier (Eleventh) Council of Toledo (A.D. 67 5) than that to which we have just referred concerned itself with the subject of clinical communion by publishing an explanation of a canon promulgated by the First Council held in the same city nearly three hundred years before (A.D. 4oo). This canon has been noticed in a former place as ordering the expulsion of those who did not immediately consume the sacrament they received at the open communion. Now the later council was at pains to make quite clear the real reason for this regulation—that it was aimed against sacrilege, and was not intended to apply to the case of the sick and others who had difficulty in swallowing the Host. After referring to the physical weakness of persons in extreme sickness, the canon goes on to remark that in many cases “those who earnestly desire the viaticum of Holy Communion reject the Eucharist brought to them by the priest; not because they act in unbelief, but because they cannot swallow the Eucharist that is given them, apart from a draught from the chalice of the Lord.”


The interest of this passage is apparent. First, because the common use of the sole species of Bread is implied; and, secondly, because it is recognized that there are cases in which a draught from the chalice must, for physical reasons, accompany the delivery of the Host. But exactly what is meant by the dominici calicis haustum is not obvious. The Eucharist brought to them by the priest must, from the context, be taken to signify the Host alone; for it is this that the dying person cannot consume by itself. To suppose that the phrase eucharistiam collatam sibi a sacerdote includes the consecrated Wine would be to give to the term eucharistia two different meanings in two consecutive sentences. Moreover, against such an interpretation of the passage we have to consider not only the inconvenience and risk attached to carrying forth the chalice and its contents to any great distance from the church, but also the fact that whatever precise information can up to this point be adduced is practically all on the side of reservation in the one kind. How, then, is the reference to the chalice to be explained There are two alternatives from which a choice may be made. We may suppose that when the council issued this canon it had in mind the substitution of communion at a private celebration, in or adjoining the sick-room, for the regular method of administering viaticum. Such celebrations, though unusual, were, as we have seen, by no means unknown; and they may have been allowed when, for the reasons stated in the canon, the use of the chalice was necessary. But this interpretation hardly suits the phrase, “the Eucharist brought by the priest’’; and if the substitution of a private celebration for the use of the reserved sacrament was intended, it is less clearly expressed than might have been expected.


It is possible, on the other hand, to understand that the draught accompanying the delivery of the Host (in this case reserved) was of unconsecrated liquid; and if this were the sense of the passage, it seems necessary to explain the use of the expression calix dominicus by the theory that contact or admixture of the eucharistic Bread with unconsecrated wine hallowed the contents of the vessel employed. For the existence of this theory at so early a date we have no certain evidence, though it had a very general vogue for a time after the eighth century.


While it must be admitted that no really satisfactory sense of the passage can be determined, it is none the less fairly evident that the use of the reserved species of Bread is regarded as normal in the administration of clinical Communion.


It is reasonable to suppose, however, that there was some diversity of practice. All manner of strange usages in connection with the Eucharist were to be found within the limits of Spain alone. The Third Council of Braga, sitting in the same year (A.D. 675) as the Eleventh Council of Toledo, published a canon concerning certain abuses of this sort, and included among them the use of intincted Hosts for communicating the people. The prohibition of intinction was based upon the fact that according to the Gospel account of the institution of the Eucharist the disciples received the Bread and the Wine separately, and to the traitor alone was given a sop, intinctum panem (St. John xiii. 26, Vulg.).


In the absence of any special statement to the contrary, this prohibition would doubtless be held to apply to clinical communions as well as to communion at the mass; yet, if it be rightly assigned to the First Council of Lestines (A.D. 743), a canon put forth in Belgium in the following century possibly prescribes the use of some sort of intinction where the invalid is unconscious.


The liturgical sources of this age do not greatly help in our inquiry. The Leonine Sacramentary provides no form for the communion of the sick. In the Gelasian Sacra mentary, edited by Wilson, and assigned by him to the seventh century or the early part of the eighth, there is contained a series of prayers which accompany the celebration of mass in a private house,” but there is no mention of sickness made in them, nor is any formula of administration provided. Sickly infants are to be communicated immediately after baptism, apparently with the eucharistic Bread, but the language of the rubric is ambiguous. As to the Gallican rites, the Bobbio Sacramentary gives a similar missa in domo cuiuslibet; the texts of the others are imperfect. No doubt the very simplicity of the rite of administration of the reserved Eucharist may account for the fact that no special directions on this point are to be found in the early sacramentaries. It would only be necessary to use, with whatever modification was necessary, the formulae employed at the delivery of the elements at the public service; and these were assumed to be so familiar that documents of the period do not insert them even in the text of the Liturgy.


Of some importance too is the frequent occurrence at this time of forms for hallowing the chrismal. As this vessel is named among the ornaments of a church, it seems fair to maintain that a receptacle for use in official reservation is intended. From a comparison of the benediction of a chrismal in the Missale Francorum, and the benediction of a turris in the Missale Vesontiomense, it appears that the two receptacles are equivalent, and that both were used in official reservation for some purpose or other, that may include the necessities of the sick.


From the numerous biographical notices of the period we derive again but little aid toward solving the problems which we have set ourselves to consider. The evidence at our disposal gives no warrant for any very definite assertions concerning the manner and form in which the sacrament was administered.


In the story of Caedmon’s end the use of the Host alone is plainly implied, and we gather that it was customary to reserve the Eucharist in the hospital where he died. He conversed with the inmates of the hospital in a pleasant manner for some time, “until it was past midnight, and then he asked whether they had the Eucharist in the house. ‘What need is there of the Eucharist?’ they answered, “for you are not likely to die: you talk as merrily as if you were in the best of health.” “However, he replied, ‘bring me the Eucharist.’ So he received it into his hand, and asked if they were all in charity with him. . . . ‘Then, fortifying himself with the heavenly viaticum, he prepared to enter upon another life.’”


It is rarely, however, that so detailed a picture is drawn as that which Bede has given us in his account of Caedmon’s death. Most descriptions of clinical communion seem to presuppose the use of the reserved sacrament, but positive information as to the mode of administering it is exceedingly scanty. Mention of the two species is, indeed, frequent; but we possess no means of ascertaining the real value of such phrases—that is to say, how far expressions of this sort correspond with actual practice. Moreover, where there is reason to believe that both the Bread and the Wine were actually employed, we are still left to surmise in what form they were administered, whether conjointly or separately. A few instances will suffice to illustrate these remarks.


We meet, of course, with the term viaticum (with or without further specification) scattered through the literature of the time; as, for example, in the story of St. Hild, who according to Bede received after midnight, “the viaticum of the most holy communion.”


Bede often uses the expression, “the Body and Blood of the Lord.’’ He tells of St. Cuthbert that he was asked to send a priest with the corporis et sanguinis domimici sacramenta to the dying wife of an official at the court of King Egfrid; and, when the saint’s own end was upon him, he also received the Body and Blood.


In language similar to this the same author describes the last communion of St. Chad and of Benedict Biscop. The use of the two species seems to be implied again in the Life of St. Eloy of Noyon (+ A.D. 659), which was compiled by his contemporary, St. Ouen; and in the biographies of St. Ansbert of Rouen (+ A.D. 695), of St. Vaast of Arras (+ A. D. 540), and in the eighth-century Life of St. Vincentian, and elsewhere besides.


How was the invalid actually communicated in these cases Doubtless, as most of these people died in monasteries, we may believe that, in some instances at least, they were houselled directly from the altar, either during or immediately after one of the regular masses, or from one that was celebrated for the express purpose of providing viaticum. Such expedients, as we have already noticed, were not unusual in religious houses.


Bede’s story of the child who died in the monastery at Selsey is a case in point. It has already been mentioned in another place; but here we may remark, first, that there was no use of the reserved sacrament on this occasion, and secondly, that whereas the child is bidden in his vision to ask for “viaticum of the Lord’s Body and Blood,” the abbot is represented as sending to him from the mass in the monastic church a “fragment (particulam) of the Lord’s oblation.”? It is hazardous to use these two phrases, as some have done, in argument for the prevalence at this period of conjoint administration of the two species. “viaticum dominici corporis et sanguinis” and similar expressions are probably only common phrases of the time, meaning merely the last communion, without reference to the form in which it was given.


If we turn to the pages of Jonas of Bobbio, who wrote the Lives of St. Columban and the early abbots of Bobbio, we find that he constantly uses language which implies the use of the Host alone as viaticum. A typical passage is to be found, e.g. in his story of the death of another Columban, a companion of the saint who bore the name, where he relates that the dying man received as viaticum the Body of Christ. And once more, in reference to the last communion of a monk named Agibodus, he makes mention only of the one element. Other examples from this writer, showing his frequent use of similar phrases, are subjoined below. The impression left by the perusal of these passages is that Jonas was probably familiar with the form of clinical communion in which the Bread only was employed; and we might adduce in support of this conclusion that passage in the additions to the rule drawn up by its founder for the monastery at Bobbio, wherein participation in the chalice at any time seems to be forbidden to uninstructed novices.


We may therefore sum up the two centuries, c. A.D. 600–8oo, by saying that the sacrament was officially reserved for the needs of sick and dying: that, in some places, at least, the ancient method of extra-liturgical communion in the one species of Bread persisted, although it is likely that wherever intinction was favorably regarded by diocesan or other authority this practice might affect the mode in which the Eucharist was reserved and administered.


(b) The second division of our present period opens with the story of Charlemagne’s reforms in Church and State. Of all the ecclesiastical reforms made at this period none were more important than the revision of the Church’s service-books which led to the adoption of the so-called Gregorian Sacramentary in preference to any of the rites, Roman or Gallican, previously in use.


Between the years A.D. 784 and A.D. 791 Pope Hadrian sent to Charlemagne the famous document that has had so permanent an influence upon all subsequent liturgical developments in the West.


But those who were charged with the revision and reform of the service-books were not content to accept this new sacramentary in its original condition. Where it seemed to lack, they supplied the deficiency from material contained in the local rites. Thus it came about that there was almost immediately associated with copies of the “Gregorian” sacramentary a varying amount of material from Gallican and from other Roman sources.


Among the things which Adrian’s original lacked appears to have been an office for clinical communion.


The Carolingian ritualists, therefore, inserted services for the sick and dying from rites with which they were already familiar; possibly from the revised Gelasian books which preceded the use of the “Gregorian” sacramentaries.


One of the earliest examples of these mixed sacra mentaries was that of St. Remi of Reims, if (as was claimed) it was written in the last few years of the eighth century. It is unfortunately no longer in existence, for it perished by fire when the Abbey Library was burnt out in 1774. Ménard, however, before this date had examined it, and printed in his edition of the Gregorianum the ordo ad visitandum infirmum provided in the manuscript.


It contains many points of interest. In the first place it presents a very early example of a set of rubrical directions which hereafter occur with great frequency in early mediaeval orders for the communion of the sick.


After instructions for unction and reconciliation there follows: “Let him (i.e. the officiant) communicate the sick person, saying: ‘The Body of our Lord Jesus Christ preserve thee to life eternal. The Blood of our Lord Jesus Christ redeem thee to life eternal. The peace of our Lord Jesus Christ and the communion of the saints be with thee and with us to eternal life. Amen.’”3 Then, comes a prayer, and subjoined to it is this rubric: “And for seven days, or if need be for longer, the patient shall be anointed and houselled; as the Apostle, or rather the Holy Ghost speaking through him, directs: si in peccatis fuerit, dimittentur ei. Moreover the ministers of holy Church are to take care that the daily offices be said in his presence—that is to say, Mattins, Prime, Terce, Sext, None, Vespers, and Compline. And if the bishop be present, he shall give a blessing; if not, the priests present shall say one of the following prayers apiece.” Here the words of delivery suggest the separate administration of both species.


But if the sick man is very weak and near to death, the whole rite of unction, of reconciliation, and of communion, is reduced to a minimum, and another formula of administration is provided. “The Body and Blood of our Lord Jesus Christ preserve (custodial) thy soul to eternal life.” It is noteworthy that, in contrast with the words of administration prescribed in the former office, the two words corpus and sanguis are here joined together, and grammatically form the subject of a singular verb (custodial). It would be too much to assert that this must necessarily mean that the Bread and Wine are given conjointly, but in view of the circumstances for which this rubric provides that seems to be a reasonable conclusion. For the difficulty in swallowing so often experienced by the dying would be obviated by the use of a Host dipped into the contents of the chalice immediately before delivery. If the use of intinction is intended, the language of the rubric itself gives us no information as to which variety of the practice shall be used. The use of a reserved Host previously intincted, and used for hallowing an unconse crated draught, would suit the conditions indicated and be in keeping with the custom of the time. This form of words of delivery, with unimportant variations, is characteristic of a great number of the “Gregorian” sacramentaries.


The constant supply of the reserved Eucharist appears to be definitely ordered for the first time in the Capitula Ecclesiastica issued by a council that met at Aix-la-Chapelle somewhere between A.D. 8 Io–813, wherein it was enacted, “That the priest shall always keep the sacrament in readiness, so that if anyone be overtaken by sickness or a child should be ill, he may give them communion immediately, and none may die unhouselled.”


This injunction reappeared in language almost or quite identical in such documents as the diocesan capitularies of several prelates of this age; for example, in those of Rudolph of Bourges (+ A.D. 866) and of Walter of Orleans (+ A.D. 891); and it was included by Ansegisus, abbot of Fontanelle (+ A.D. 833), and by Regino, abbot of Prüm (+ A.D. 915), in their collections of canons. In the absence of evidence to the contrary we should be compelled to believe that reservation of the single species was intended.


It is during the ninth century, too, that we begin to meet with inquiries, made on episcopal or archidiaconal visitations, as to whether the parish priest provides the reserved sacrament for the communion of the sick, and whether he keeps it in a suitable vessel. Bishop Hincmar of Reims (+ A.D. 858) used to ask on these occasions “Whether he (the priest) has a pyx wherein the sacred oblation may be decently reserved for the viaticum of the sick.” A similar inquiry leaves it doubtful whether the pyx was constantly kept above the altar or to be suspended over it.


The regular renewal of the reserved Eucharist is often dealt with. Ecclesiastical authorities appoint a definite term, sometimes of three, more often of seven, occasionally of fourteen days, at the conclusion of which the Host in the pyx was to be consumed and a newly-consecrated one to be put in its place. Penances of varying degrees of severity are allotted in the penitentials for failure to observe these requirements.


But by far the most interesting injunction of the period is a canon of uncertain date and origin preserved by Regino of Prüm.


Let every priest have a pyx or other vessel worthy of so great a sacrament, in which the Body of the Lord may be carefully stored for the viaticum of those who leave this world. And this sacred oblation ought to be intincted in the Blood of Christ, in order that the priest may be able to say with truth, ‘The Body and Blood of the Lord avail thee.’ And let it always be kept locked up on (or above) the altar, on account of mice or wicked men; and let it be changed every third day; that is to say, the reserved Host shall be consumed by the priest, and another, consecrated on the same day, shall be substituted for it, lest by being kept too long it become mouldy, which God forbid.


This is the one definite statement that we have as to the use at this period of an intincted Host for reservation; and it seems to explain much that would otherwise be ambiguous, including the often incomplete and abrupt directions in many orders for the visitation of the sick.


The prohibition of intinction by the Council of Braga was evidently transitory and local in its effect, and probably had no immediate influence upon the practice of the Church in Gaul and elsewhere. By the tenth century intinction had come to be a common way in which communion was given to the people at the mass. The injunction quoted above shows that the sacrament was also in a conjoint form of reservation, and in this form was spoken of as the corpus dominicum as well as in terms that express the presence of both elements.


It is thus that we may explain the rubric contained in the order for communion of the sick in the Leofric Missal. The order is part of the original tenth-century sacramentary that forms the bulk of the missal, and the rubric contains elements of the usual “Gregorian”, sort, ordering the recitation of the daily offices on behalf of the sick person. But the minister of viaticum is bidden to dip the Host in wine or water, and to say as he does so, or as he communicates the invalid with the saturated sacrament: “May the commixture and consecration of the Body and Blood of our Lord Jesus Christ be to us and to all who receive for the remission of all sins and for eternal life.” We may suppose that the Host which is intended for use has been previously prepared in the way prescribed by Regino’s canon, and that the immersion in wine or water is to facilitate the swallowing of the sacrament. Still another method of preparing and storing intincted Hosts for viaticum is suggested elsewhere. Instead of a pyx, a chalice seems to have been used sometimes for the purpose of reserving the conjoint species. We are told, in the ninth-century Life of the Alsatian Abbess Odilia (+ A.D. 720) that her companions feared that she had died unhouselled, and that she was restored to life in answer to their prayers. Then she asked for the chalice wherein the sacrament—”the Body and Blood of the Lord”—was kept, and so made her communion.” There is no hint in the narrative that she sent at mass time for the Eucharist, and the natural sense of the passage is that the sacrament was reserved conjointly in both kinds in a chalice.


Here brief note may be taken of the Celtic Orders, collected by Warren, since it seems safe to place them all within the limits of the period. According to Duchesne they are essentially Roman in origin, that is to say “Gregorian” with varying admixture of Gallican details. The orm prescribed in the “Stowe Missal” closely resembles those that are found in the early group of mixed sacramen taries represented by that of Noyon. The fragment preserved in the Book of Deer has a vernacular rubric, “Hisund dubar sacorſaice dau,” i.e. “Here give him the sacrifice.” In these and in the fragments written in the Books of Moling and of Dimma mention is made of the two species, either in the words of delivery or in prayers associated with the act of communion. The order in the Book of Moling uses the formula, “The Body with the Blood of our Lord,” etc., and all seem to assume the use of the sacrament conjointly administered. It seems highly probable too that it was reserved in an intincted state.


Hitherto we have followed in this section the evidence provided mainly by ecclesiastical legislation and liturgical documents. For the purpose of illustrating these injunctions and directions we may select from the abundant historical and biographical sources of the period a few instances in which allusion is made to viaticum. The fidelity with which the rubrics found in sacramentaries of the St. Remi type were carried out in practice is seen in the story of how St. Rembert of Hamburg (+ A.D. 888) was prepared for his end. A contemporary but unknown hand has preserved his history. “On the seventh day preceding his death they began to administer to him the unction with holy oil, and also the communion of the Body and Blood of the Lord; until the day of his soul’s departure from the body he daily received this salutary remedy.”


More often the narratives are less detailed, but mention of two species is frequent. For example, St. Peter Urseolus (+ c. A.D. 997), who had once been Duke of Venice and Dalmatia, but spent his later years in the monastery of St. Michael, at Coxano in Catalania, made his last commu nion thus: “Knowing beforehand the time of his departure, he called the brethren with the father (i.e. the abbot) of the monastery, and said good-bye to them, and gave them the kiss of peace. Then he received the Body and Blood of the Lord, and blessing and absolution (absolutio piatica), and was laid in ashes and sackcloth” to await the end. This one instance must serve as a specimen of many similar passages. Again, reference is made to both species in a canon issued by the ninth-century Synod of Pavia (Regia Ticina), which laid down that penitents under public discipline were not to receive unction unless they had been granted reconciliation, and so were fit to receive the communion of the Body and Blood of Christ.


In many biographies, such as that of Charlemagne, the accounts of the passing are very meagre; it is merely stated that the dying were accorded unction and viaticum.” More interesting, perhaps, are some scattered passages which seem to imply the use of the one species of bread.


The capitular of Isaac, bishop of Langres (+ A.D. 880), contains a reference to the “sacrosanctum corpus,” without any mention of the other species. “If anyone be over taken by sickness, let him not end his life without commu nion, nor let him lack unction with the sacred oil : rather, when he sees death approach, his soul shall be commended to God by the priest, with prayers and the most holy Body.”


So again the ninth-century author of the Life of St. Walfrid (+ A.D. 765) says that the saint kissed the brethren one by one and blessed them; and then bade the Body of the Lord be brought, and so made his communion. Such expressions may refer to the use of intincted Hosts, for in the canon quoted by Regino, “corpus dominicum” is used for the sacrament in conjoint form. But the same canon suggests (by insisting upon the correspondence of actual practice with the formula employed) that the words, “The Body and Plood of our Lord avail thee,” were sometimes used to accompany the delivery of a non-intincted Host. This is important. For unless the allusion is to mere disregard of existing practice on the part of individual priests, the canon seems to be aimed against the perpetuation of the usage that was in vogue before the introduction of intinction, where the Bread alone was held to suffice in clinical communions.



The conclusions to which this review of the first ten centuries lead are briefly these. The definite directions as to constant reservation that first appear in the era of Carolingian reform do not introduce a new or unfamiliar practice. They merely insist upon due observance being maintained of existing custom, and appear to have given sanction in certain areas to modifications of the primitive type of official reservation. The most important of these modifications was the substitution of an intincted for a simple Host.


Saturday, May 2, 2020

Concerning Communion in the Hand - Matias Augé


Concerning Communion in the Hand*

Matias Augé



In the span of two years [1989-1990], five editions of a small book by Enrico Zoffoli regarding communion in the hand were published.[1] The little work was intended to be an introduction to a critical understanding of the practice of receiving communion in the hand, a practice which had begun some years previously in Italy [December 3, 1989].[2] The author himself states this when he affirms that his position “expresses a critical conscience, without having the spirit or the tone of a dispute” [p. 123].


This interests us, not only because the study has had, to all appearances, a remarkable diffusion, but also because it is clothed with a certain scientific gravity – he cites no less than 127 authors between ancient and modern – and, as the subtitle says, purports to tell the “true history” of communion in the hand.


With our contribution we do nothing other than follow the invitation addressed by the author to his readers at the end of the book, where he makes use of Saint Thomas’ words: “If someone [...] should wish to counter all that we have stated, let him not speak in dark corners or address unlearned people [...] but let him go ahead and write, if he has the courage to do so...” [quoted on pp. 124-125].


Zoffoli is not an unknown author: a member of the Pontifical Academy of Saint Thomas, he has published numerous and voluminous works of philosophy, theology, Passionist hagiography, and also a book on the Holy Mass.


In the Preamble to the fifth edition, the author says that he has been induced to edit and augment this new edition of his book “encouraged by the flattering judgments of eminent members of the hierarchy.” And he adds: “One illustrious theologian, for his part, deigned to define the treatise as aureus” and added: ‘It will be a milestone in the history of this last part of the century’.” The reader is intrigued by these complimentary phrases, although he or she does not know just who the “eminent personalities of the hierarchy” are, nor the “illustrious theologian,” who have so generously praised this little work.


To give a certain direction to our exposition, we will first summarize the contents of the booklet and then move on to its critical highlights, which will focus exclusively on the historical part which constitutes, without a doubt, the pivotal point of the author’s arguments.


The book displays on its cover an illustration taken from the Bible of Saint Louis from the 13th century [Toledo], in which Christ gives communion on the tongue to his apostles. The choice of this illustration is no doubt programmatic, as will be seen.


After the Preamble mentioned above, the text is divided into 17 short chapters: the origin of the new praxis, sense of the concession, unilateral and insufficient motivations, negative results, the thought of the Church, evolution of Eucharistic devotion, essential terms of the dogma, the reason for its rejection, “physical” and “anthropological” concepts of the consecrated bread, education for Eucharistic devotion, profanations, inevitable dropping and scattering of the fragments, demands of hygiene, from freedom-of-choice to anarchy, praise of the hand? (sic), balance, by way of a summary: give and take.


There follows a conclusion, a brief mention of bibliographic resources, and the index of persons. There is no doubt, as already mentioned, that the most important part, given the nature of this little work, is the historical one; to it the Passionist priest dedicates seventeen pages (35-51). It’s time to devote our attention to it.


Father Zoffoli’s thesis can be summed up using his own words: “thorough investigations[3] have shown that the practice of communion in the hand did not at all remain in force until the end of the 9th century, as J.A. Jungmann argued, followed by A. Bugnini [...] Such a position is entirely arbitrary, historically untenable…” [p. 38]. Later, Zoffoli offers us a series of data on the history of the minister of communion together with some other data on the history of communion on the tongue and in the hand – the only data relevant to the case.


After a brief exposition of this data, the author exclaims: “What is striking, insofar as it illuminates the historical context in which everything happened, is that the new liturgical practice, derived from the Rome of Saints Eutychian, Innocent I, Leo, Agapitus, and Gregory the Great, was adopted by the synod of Rouen for reasons of greater reverence toward the Eucharist...” [p. 41]. These words offer us the arrangement to follow in our critical reflections.


The text of Pope Saint Eutychian (275-283) says: Nullus praesumat tradere communionem laico vel foeminae ad deferendum infirmo.[4] Clearly, the text in question does not prove anything about the practice of giving communion in the hand or on the tongue; it simply forbids the laity to take communion to the sick.


The passage concerning Saint Agapitus, who was Pope from 535 to 536, speaks of the healing of a paralyzed mute at the moment when the Pontiff placed the host on his tongue: ...Cumque ei dominicum corpus in os mitteret, illa diu muta ad loquendum lingua soluta est…[5] We do not know which thorough investigations Zoffoli might have consulted, but clearly he did not read, among others, F.X. Funk,[6] because, if he had read him, he would have been aware that the German scholar had previously observed about that episode: “The case is such a singular one that whoever might want to deduce something from it regarding the common practice – which is precisely Zoffoli’s case – would clearly be making a mistake. Here we have the case of an extremely weak man, and from that point of view it is understood that the Eucharist could not have been given to him in the hand.”[7] What’s more, communion had to be given in a visible way in order for it to be perceived as the cause of the mute man’s tongue being unbound; for this reason it was logical to place the host on his tongue.[8]


As far as Gregory the Great is concerned, the episode that John the Deacon narrates about Gregory in the Life is well known: the pontiff, seeing the irreverent attitude of a matron at the moment of communion, immediately withdrew his hand from the mouth of the woman.[9] This episode is reported by Zoffoli in support of his thesis.


We believe, however, that our author did not read Jungmann well, whom he cited as an adversary to be opposed, because if he had read it, he would not have presented the episode as a clear witness of the new rite, as if the Austrian liturgical did not know it, but he would have tried to refute the argument of Jungmann, who writes precisely about this: “The famous anecdote narrated by John the Deacon must be eliminated from consideration (of single notices from the earliest period), Vita S. Gregorii II, 41, the story about the matron who in receiving the sacrament from the hands of the pope begins to laugh, because she recognized the bread that she herself had offered, at which the pope quickly withdrew his hand ab eius ore.”[10]


Jungmann considers the episode a legend, interpolated, from the 9th century.[11] But even if the fact were true, the explanation that John the Deacon, in his narration, made use of rites common in his time is more than probable. In the episode in question it would demonstrate the formula used in offering the Eucharist: it is a formula from the 9th century.[12]


We note, finally, that in these episodes we are always dealing with exceptional cases, that is, always and only of the sick.


But our author seems to be more pleased with other, more ancient witnesses. On page 40 he states: “In 404, under Innocent I (+ 417), a synod was celebrated which, among the various canons, also imposes the rite of communion on the tongue.” This statement has no bibliographical reference provided. We have tried to determine the accuracy of this claim and, as a result of our investigations, it can be said that under Innocent I two Roman synods were celebrated: the first in 402 and the second on January 27, 417.[13] None of the canons of these two synods speaks of communion on the tongue.


The synod of 402 issued 16 canons concerning the ordination of bishops and clerics, several impediments to marriage and virginity. The synod of 417 dealt with Pelagius and Celestius, as can be deduced from various letters of Pope Innocent I, sent to several bishops of Africa who had asked him to validate, with the apostolic authority, the decisions taken by them at the synods of Milevum and of Carthage in 416.


Our scholar, again on page 40, then quotes a text of Pope Saint Leo the Great (440-461), for which, however, he gives an inaccurate bibliographical description. This is a passage taken from a sermon of the pontiff in which Leo, speaking of those who do not profess a correct faith in the Eucharistic presence, affirms: Hoc enim ore sumitur quod fide creditur, et frustra ab illis AMEN respondetur, a quibus contra id quod accipitur, disputatur.[14] To present this text as a witness in favor of communion on the tongue is possible only if one makes a superficial interpretation of the Latin text. The expression ore sumitur and similar ones are frequent in the ancient and modern liturgical texts: already in the Veronese Sacramentary, the oldest document of the Roman liturgy, we find the classic prayer after communion that is expressed in these terms: Quod ore sumpsimus, domine, quaesumus, mente capiamus…[15]It is established that ore sumere simply means “to receive [the Sacrament],” which, naturally, is received through the mouth and therefore does not affirm in itself any rite in particular; even receiving the host in the hand, it then is necessarily carried to the mouth![16] Therefore, the affirmation in question can be contemporary to the usage of communion on the hand and, in any case, does not prove that Pope Leo the Great distributed communion on the tongue.


Continuing, the author offers us [cf. p. 41] a witness that, according to him, confirms that the Roman usage [!] of receiving communion on the tongue was passed to the regions of Gaul in the 7th century. In support of this, he quotes the bishop of Rouen Audoenus (610-684), who, after seeing the aforementioned practice in Rome, is supposed to have imposed it in his diocese at the Synod of Rouen, celebrated – it is our author speaking – between 649 and 653. In this regard he quotes MANSI X, 1199-1200, where the canon in question is reported, at number 2: ... nulli autem laico aut foeminae Eucharistiam in manibus ponat, sed tantum in os eius cum his verbis...[17]


We observe, though, that the same Mansi, in a note, states that the practice of communion in the hand vix ante saeculum nonum prohibitum fuisse and that therefore, as many scholars affirm, the aforementioned canon of the synod of Rouen canonibus antiquis adversari notum est. Palazzini takes up the same observation stating about this synod: “... Some historians think of King Louis the Stammerer, who died in 879, and therefore put this council in the second half of the 9th century, but above all for the contents of the canons, which they hold to belong to the period after the seventh century,” and adds: “There is no doubt [...] that some canons are of a Carolingian inspiration.”[18]


Of the aforementioned synod, other authors have recently studied it. Odette Pontal, speaking of the council of Rouen of 688/9 writes: “This council has nothing to do with another council of Rouen, dated to 650 or 878/80, to which some canons in the collections come to be attributed. Even today it has not been clarified if and when this supposed council took place.”[19]


In an even more recent work, Wilfried Hartmann, in the course of studying “some synods of the Frankish kingdom of the West, before and around 900, that were up for discussion,” writes on that of Rouen: “In the synodal manual of Reginald di Prum, bearing the title ‘ex concilio Rotomagensi’ are eight canons for which it is not possible to indicate a source.”[20]


Other witnesses could be quoted that confirm the date of this synod. At any rate, the research, even though halted, as noted by Pontal regarding the results of E. Seckel, is inclined – “historian” Zoffoli permitting – toward the mid-ninth century.


And it is precisely because of this conviction that neither J. Gaudemet in Sources Chrétiennes 353 nor C. De Clercq in Corpus Christianorum, Series Latina 148 and 148A mention the canons of the synod of Rouen. On the contrary, the latter in his edition states: “In the province of Rouen in this period (that is, between 511 and 695) no mention is made of any council.”[21] Things being thus, we think that our author should have evaluated the critical difficulties before making solemn and definitive statements.


Our conclusion then sounds quite different: it is not possible to prove, with the texts used by Zoffoli, that in 5th – 6th century Rome communion was distributed in the mouth nor that in the 7th century this practice passed into the regions of Gaul.


What is most striking in this “true history” is the omission of extremely clear witnesses from the ancient tradition that speak without a shadow of a doubt about communion given in the hand. We’re talking about documents known to historians of the liturgy, which Jungmann collected in his classical work Missarum sollemnia.[22]


In order not to repeat things already noted before regarding “thorough investigations,” we limit ourselves here to recalling some of the most important texts of the 6th-7th centuries, which bear witness to the usage of communion given on the hand both in the East and in the West.


In the year 692 the important synod called in “Trullo” was celebrated in Constantinople, at which more than 200 eastern bishops took part. In Canon 101, receiving communion in hands arranged in the form of a cross is obligatorily prescribed; criticized were those who believed they were doing better by receiving it in small containers and vessels of gold, silver, or other precious materials, as if inert matter were more worthy to welcome the body of Christ than the image of God, that is, than the human body.[23] This canon proves in an irrefutable way that at the end of the 7th century it was common usage in the East to distribute communion in the hand. The irony of this case is that Zoffoli also quoted from this council, which he called “ecumenical,”[24] as a way of recalling that “…it is forbidden, in the presence of a bishop, a priest or a deacon, for the laity to communicate themselves; in that case, they would be excommunicated” [p. 37]. The reference is to canon 58. I spoke of the irony of this case, because in it the zealous author sees his attempts come to nothing to prove that the faithful should not receive communion in the hand, because it was forbidden to them per se.


The Trullan council of 692 is clear proof that communion in the hand is spoken of, and thus it is acknowledged, and that at the same time the laity are forbidden to communicate themselves. Even if this council was not approved by Rome, it still reflects the usage of the eastern church at the time.


In the West, we have the testimonies of Saint Cesarius of Arles (+ 542), and of the synods of the regions of Gaul from the 6th-7th centuries, that confirm the same practice. Men received communion on the bare hand, but women on the hand covered with a veil. The text of Saint Cesarius of Arles is clear: Omnes viri, quando communicare desiderant, lavant manus suas; et omnes mulieres nitida exhibeant linteamina, ubi corpus Christi accipiant.[25] The synod of Auxerre of 561-605 also mentions this custom, forbidding women to receive communion on their bare hands: Non licet mulieri nudam manum eucharistiam accipere[26] It should be noted that Saint Cesarius of Arles was always attentive to Roman usages in liturgical matters. We have an example from the synod of Vaison of 529, chaired precisely by the Bishop of Arles, in which the chant of the Kyrie was introduced in the Mass and in the morning and evening prayers to follow the usage of the apostolic see.[27]


In the 8th century we have very clear testimonies according to which communion in the hand was always in force both in the East and in the West. Saint Bede the Venerable [+735], speaks of a monk who at the moment of receiving Viaticum, “holding the Eucharist in his hands, asked pardon of the confreres of the community.”[28] Saint John Damascene (+ 749), in describing the rite of communion, exhorts the faithful in these terms: “Let us draw closer to him with ardent desire and let us receive the Body of the crucified Lord with our hands open one upon the other in the form of a cross.”[29]


Zoffoli several times in his work identifies communion on the tongue as a respectful way of receiving communion, and communion in the hand as a disrespectful way of receiving communion.[30] On page 49 he comes to affirm: “The custom of placing the Eucharist in the hand, experienced for centuries and recognized realistically as dangerous, because it exposed the Blessed Sacrament to all profanations of negligence and of disbelief, represents in the history of eucharistic devotion a past that the Church has had the right-duty to move beyond, approving and favoring the contrary one.”


Even the limited data that we have presented here demonstrate instead that the faithful of the first eight centuries, receiving communion in the hand, were invited to do so with great respect: washing of hands for men, a veil on the hand for women, their hands arranged in the form of a cross as directed by the synod “in Trullo” and by Saint John Damascene... The danger of desecration was always taken into account. The ancient council I of Zaragoza, in the year 380, says in canon 3: Eucaristiae gratiam si quis probatur acceptam in ecclesiam non sumsisse, anathema sit in perpetuum.[31] This canon is taken up later by the council I of Toledo, years of 397-400, and a few centuries later, by the council XI of Toledo, in the year 675.[32] On the subject of these dangers, Browe writes: “In many Penitenziali of the VII-X centuries we find this penance imposed: Quicumque sacrificium perdiderit et nescit ubi sit, annum peniteat. Originally such a prescription was related to the custom of giving the host in the hand; later the paragraph is directed against priests.”[33]


But more than the danger of desecration, it was the growing veneration for the Eucharistic sacrament that led to the new rite of communion in the mouth. One must be aware of another piece of information, judged to be decisive by some authors: the passage from communion in the hand to communion in the mouth coincides with the passage from leavened bread to unleavened bread. The fine particles of unleavened bread, which already in the 9th century takes on a roundish shape and becomes ever thinner, adhere much better to the mouth than do the solid pieces of leavened bread.[34]


We are in agreement with the author that growth is one of the essential properties of the church. In its history, the church of God has undoubtedly progressed in its comprehension of the Eucharistic mystery and therefore a return to ancient usages is not always and necessarily an enrichment. We note, however, that the progress in this case, as in others, was not always linear, but it was, in fact, frequently at the mercy of doctrinal polemics.


The positive reassessment of the dimension of the real presence in the mid-ninth century, and the consequent increase in the manifestations of respect and of adoration toward the eucharist, proceed apace with a conspicuous distancing from actual eucharistic communion. Respect becomes distancing!


The current recovery of a respectful “familiarity” with the Eucharist is positive; without denying the progress of history, it purifies it at the same time of polemical excesses.


We have done some critical highlighting in Zoffoli’s little work. We could do so further. That said, though, we believe that it is enough to make the readers understand the development of the discourse in the volume in question. In conclusion, one more emphasis on the theological method that guides the author in his reflections.


In the chapter on the “essential dogmatic terms,” in which he proposes to sketch briefly the essential lines of eucharistic doctrine that make his case, he begins with these words: “To the quotation of the biblical texts known to all, and to that of the witness of the Fathers [which would oblige us to exceed the pre-set limits] we prefer to recall the definitions of the magisterium” [p. 52].


We are amazed at this way of doing theology. Scripture, fathers, and magisterium are connected and conjoined, and so they cannot subsist independently in a true theological discourse. Starting immediately and only with the magisterium, one risks interpreting it inadequately with Scripture and the fathers. The magisterium then does not make the other factors of doctrinal progress superfluous.


After what has been said, the reader will judge if Zoffoli’s book deserves to be called aureus, and if the illustrious theologian who defined it as such is right when he adds: “it will be a milestone in the history of this last part of the century.”


To us it seems, though, that this little volume is simply a classic example of that literature that betrays the lack of full acceptance of the liturgical reforms by some sectors of the Church; a literature that sometimes emphasizes minor novelty rituals, making dogmatic problems out of them, because it does not know the “true” history and the traditional meaning.


That this is the author’s position is evidenced by the insistence with which he speaks in the book’s conclusion of “purity of faith,” “heretical theological currents,” “defense of dogma,” etc. [p. 124].


In the Preamble of this little volume that we dealt with, the author writes: “I know that I make myself unpopular with some; but I also feel that the cause to which I have pledged myself is worthy of the sacrifice of life” [p. 6].


With all due respect for the good intentions of the Passionist priest, I believe that it is not worth sacrificing oneself for a cause based on reasoning that is so unsolid – indeed, from a historical point of view, so difficult to sustain.













* Translated from Italian by Franciso Schulte, OSB. Original: “A proposito della communione sulla mano,” Ecclesia Orans 8 (1991), 293-304.
[1] E. ZOFFOLI, Comunione sulla mano? Il vero pensiero della chiesa secondo la vera storia del nuovo rito, fifth revised and expanded edition, Roma 1990, p. 131.
[2] The decree of the Italian Episcopal Conference is from 19 July 1989. See the text in Rivista Liturgica 76, (1989) 555.
[3] It is a cause of objection that the author, when he should do so, never does quote the sources that are supposed to be the foundation of his assertions, but he settles for generic affirmations such as thorough investigations and the like. Investigations by whom? By the authors quoted in the brief mention of bibliographic resources? It only takes a quick glance to realize that those authors mostly form part of those nostalgic little groups which, in liturgical matters, diminish – often and gladly – the historical data.
[4] EUTICHIAN, Exhortatio ad presbyteros: PL 5, 165.
[5] GREGORY THE GREAT, Dialog. III, 3: edited by A. DE VOGUÉ - P. ANTIN, in Sources Chrétiennes 260, Paris 1979, 268-271; PL 77, 224. The episode is read even now in the Greek Orthodox morning office on the feast of Saint Agapitus, April 17 (cf. J. HOFMANN, Der hl. Papst Agapit I. und die Kirche von Byzanz, in Ostkirchliche Studien 40, 1991, 128-129). Hofmann holds that the source of the text is the Dialogues of Gregory the Great, translated quite early into Greek (cf. HOFMANN, l.c., 130-131).
[6] F.X. FUNK, Der Kommunionritus, in Id., Kirchengeschichtliche Abhandlungen und Untersuchungen 1, Paderborn 1897, 293-308.
[7] O.c., 299.
[8] Cf. ib.
[9] “... Ille continuo dexteram ab ejus ore convertens...” (John the Deacon, S. Gregorii Vita II, 41: PL 75, 103).
[10] 10 J.A. JUNGMANN, Missarum sollemnia II, Wien 1948, 463 note 51; Spanish edition (BAC 68), Madrid 1963, 949 note 52.
[11] Cf. o.c., 38 note 2 and 473 note 117; Spanish edition, 579 note 2 and 958 note 119.
[12] Cf. o.c.,: 473 note 117; Spanish edition, 958 note 119.
[13] Thus J.C. HEFELE, Histoire des Conciles II, 1, Paris 1908, 136-137.187; Ph. JAFFÉ, Regesta Pontificum Romanorum I, Graz 1956, 44-49; P. PALAZZINI (ed.), Dizionario dei Concili IV, Roma 1966, 147-148.
[14] LEO THE GREAT, De ieiunio septimi mensis, 3: CCL 138A, 566; PL 54. 452. See the same text in the edition edited by R. DOLLE in Sources Chrétiennes 200, Paris 1973, 127.
[15] 15 Sacramentarium Veronense n. 531: ed. L.E. MOHLBERG-L. EIZENHOFER-P. SIFFRIN, Roma 1956, 70.
[16] Cf. A. BLAISE, Le vocabulaire latin des principaux thèmes liturgiques. Work revue by A. Dumas, Turnhout 1966, 407-408, § § 261-262.
[17] According to the edition of Wasserschleben, the canon sounds like this: “Nulli autem laico aut feminae eucharistiam in manibus ponat, sed tantum in ore cum his verbis...” (REGINONE, Libri duo de synodalibus causis et disciplinis ecclesiasticis I, 202, ed. F.W.H. Wasserschleben, Leipzig 1840, 102-103).
[18] P. PALAZZINI (ed.), Dizionario dei concili IV, Rome 1966, 332.
[19] O. PONTAL, Die Synoden im Merowingerreich (Konziliengeschichte, Reihe A: Darstellungen), Paderborn-München-Wien-Zürich 1986, 204. And in a note he refers to the study by E. SECKEL, Die altesten Canones von Rouen: Historische aufsatze. Karl Zeumer zum 60. Geburtstag dargebracht..., Weimar 1910, 611-635, sustaining that up to now, the research has not gone beyond the results of the German scholar.
[20] W. Hartmann, Die Synoden der Karolingerzeit im Frankenreich und in Italien (Konziliengeschichte, Reihe A: Darstellungen), Paderborn-München-Wien-Zürich 1989, 385. On this same page, no. 34, the author indicates the canons: They are: Reginone I, 202; II, 1.67.68.165.395.411.419... Again by the same author, cf. Die karolingische Reform und die Bibel, in Annuarium Historiae Conciliorum 18 (1986) 72.
[21] CCL 148A, 417.
[22] See also the historical synthesis of A. BUGNINI, Sulla mano come in trono, in Notitiae 9 (1973) 289-291.
[23] Cf. MANSI XI, 985-988; J.C. HEFELE, Histoire des Conciles III, 1, Paris 1909, 575; P. Palazzini (ed.), Dizionario dei Concili, I, Rome 1963, 339.


[24] An elementary knowledge of church history suffices to know that this council is not ecumenical, indeed it has never been approved by Rome. If, as Zoffoli says, it were an ecumenical council, its canons would have universal value!
25
[25] Cesarius of Arles, Sermo 227: CCL 104, 899-900.
[26] Syn. Autissiodorensis, can. 36: CCL 148A, 269. In this regard, cf. the study of P. BROWE, Kommunion in der gallikanischen Kirche der Merowinger-und Karolingerzeit, in: Theologische Quartalschrift 102 (1921) 47-48.
[27] Cf. Conc. Vasense, 3: CCL 148A, 79.
[28] “... afferte mihi Eucharistiam. Accepta in manu...” (BEDE, Historia ecclesiastica IV, 24: PL 95, 214).
[29] We present here the Latin text of PG: “Accedamus ad eum ardenti desiderio, compositisque in crucis formam manibus, crucifixi corpus suscipiamus...” (John Damascene, De fide orthodoxa IV, 13: PG 94, 1150).

[30] This attitude leads the author to offer a piteous list of profanations that, according to him, are on the rise in our days due precisely to communion in the hand (pp. 74-78). It amazes us that all of Zoffoli’s information on this point should be so deficient and so one-way. A list of profanations of this type could be made up from witnesses belonging to the period in which communion was received only on the tongue.
[31] The text is taken from the edition of J. VIVES, Concilios visigóticos e hispano-romanos (España cristiana, textos 1), Barcelona-Madrid 1963, 17.
[32] Cf. o.c., 23 and 363-364.
[33] P. BROWE, Die Kommunion..., 48.
[34] Cf. J.A. Jungmann o.c., 468; Spanish edition, 949. See also A. BUGNINI, Sulla mano come in trono..., 292.