In Erasmus’ dialogue Ciceronianus, Bulephorus describes a sermon he supposedly heard
preached before Pope Julius II on a Good Friday. It is easy to infer , as many
historians have, that Erasmus is recounting for his readers the substance of a
sermon at which he himself was present when he visited Rome in 1509. If that is
the case, the sermon as summarized by Bulephorus exemplifies a most
inappropriate substitution of pseudo-Ciceronian rhetoric and pagan learning for
a central Christian mystery. The exordium and peroration, together almost longer than the body of the sermon
itself, were filled with elaborate praises of the Pope as Jovis optimus maximus, whose power was unlimited and whose
omnipotent right hand brandished a thunderbolt. The preacher used the body of
the sermon to parade before his listeners tedious and irrelevant stories from
Greek and Roman history. Bulephorus finally betrays his disgust by saying, ‘In
such a fine Roman fashion did that Roman speak that I heard not a word about
the death of Christ.’ Our worst suspicions about the quality of religion and
theology at the papal court have thus been confirmed, this time by the prince
of humanism himself.
Subsequent scholarship, when it deigned to take notice of the sermons at the
papal court at all, accorded with Erasmus’ negative assessment. Burckhardt does
not specifically discuss the sermons at the papal court, but his general
evaluation of Renaissance preaching is well known: the sermons were concerned
with problems of conscience, were empty of doctrinal content, and had only a
temporary effect upon the hearers. Savonarola was his chief example. These
sermons typified the difference between southern and southern piety: the former
produced a ‘ mighty but passing impression,’ whereas the latter ‘worked for the
ages.’
Ludwig Pastor [‘History of the Papacy’, Engl. Transl., 1923], who was himself
influenced by Burckhardt, saw in the mendicant ‘preachers of penance’ one of the
‘most cheering signs in an age clouded with many dark shadows’. He esteemed the
moral earnestness of the preachers. Curiously enough, he comments on the
sermons preached at the papal court only occasionally and in the most generic
terms, but he does leave the reader with the impression that by and large in these
sermons classical forms disguised, deformed and displaced Christian substance.
When Pastor calls attention to the Ciceronianus,
it is obvious that he feels Erasmus was not describing an isolated case. His lamentation
over the ‘extravagances’ which some of the Renaissance preachers allowed
themselves would, seem, therefore, to have a certain application to the sermons
preached before the popes:
We
hear of preachers whose sermons were overcharged with vain learning, or
hairsplitting theological questions, and again, of others who condescended too
much to the taste of the populace. The newly revived pagan philosophy was too often brought forward in the
pulpit at the expense of Christianity. Passages from the works of the heathen
poets and teachers replaced the customary quotations from the Fathers. The
glamour of the new learning obscured the old simple doctrines, and heathen
Mythology was mixed up with Christian dogma. Equally objectionable was the
conduct of the new preachers who, instead of aiming at the conversation and
edification of the hearers, thought only of making a name for themselves. Such
men invented all sorts of miracles, sham prophesies and silly fables . . .with
politics and all sorts of worldly matters, and leaving out the one thing that was
necessary.
Since Pastor’s day the sermons preached to the popes during the Renaissance have received even less
attention. The article on “Oratoria sacra’
in the Enciclopedia cattolica passes them over without mention
as does the otherwise informative article on ‘Preaching’ in the New Catholic Encyclopedia. Even more
significant is tye fact thy\at Johann Baptist Schneyer’s recent and impressive Geschichte der katholischen Predigt does
the same. We might easily thereby conclude that no comment on these sermons is
offered because no comment is deserved.
While working on as somewhat different subject last summer, I began to scan
some of the sermons in various Roman libraries.
Gradually I became persuaded that they deserved more attention than they
had hitherto received and that they had significance for the interpretation of
the Roman religious scene in the late Quattrocento (15th C) and
early Cinquecento (16th C). At the very least they provided new
data, for they do not to have been seriously utilized by historians since the
days they were printed . . .
In the Appendix I list the fifty sermons which I am at present prepared to
discuss. Some of these sermons were chosen very deliberately because of
specific themes developed in them, especially the theme of the ‘dignity of man,’ while others were
chosen rather at random simply to give a coverage of various pontificates and
liturgical occasions. To these fifty printed sermons I join a ‘letter’ of Giles
of Viterbo which is found only in manuscript and which until now has been
ignored by scholars. This document is a sermon intended for the eyes of Julius
II . . .
One of the few sermons that Pastor
specifically commented upon was the panegyric in honor of St. John delivered by
the Roman humanist Pietro Marso during the pontificate of Innocent VIII in 1485.
Pastor said ‘The wealth of classical reminiscences which the reader encounters
stands in singular contrast to the subject of the speech, praise of John the
Evangelist.’ Pastor simply could have not read the sermon and passed such a
judgement! The sermon a somewhat abstract rehearsal of John’s virtues,
especially his virginity, is replete with quotations or paraphrases from the
Old and New Testaments, with a special preference shown for St. Paul. Moreover,
there are five or six quotations from St. Jerome and St .Augustine and one from
Gregory the Great. If a ‘singular contrast’ occurs in this sermon, it results
from te juxtaposition of this ‘wealth’ of Christian
‘reminiscences’ along side one brief quotation each from Plato and Seneca and a very
perfunctory mention of Aristotle. No matter what our final judgment of the
quality of this sermon might be, it certainly cannot be criticized for
substituting pagan sources for Christian ones.
Marso’s panegyric is not an exception. Critical
editions of the sermons would be required to determine with a scientific
accuracy the precise incidents of reference to various sources. However, even
without such detailed studies, it is clear that Scripture was the source these
preachers quoted most liberally and that second to Scripture came the Fathers
of the Church, especially Jerome and Augustine. Occasionally in sermons which
deal with a more philosophical subject, such as Marso’s on human immortality,
the references to classical authors are more numerous. But these ‘authorities’ are either rejected as
ignorant of Christian truth or are seen as confirmatory of it. . . .These
preachers were not loath to display their classical learning but there was no question, however, of this learning
swamping a sermon’s them and submerging it.
Scholastic authors are referred to very sparingly by name, and only rarely do
traditional scholastic terms such as potential
absoluta and ordinate, actus and potentia, materia prima and Marso’s puris naturalibus appear. This does not mean the preachers wee
uninfluenced by scholastic doctrine. In some instances, indeed, direct
dependence is obvious. But they eschewed scholastic arguments and scholastic distinctions
in their sermons. Marso explicitly rejects
‘inane disputations’, and Augustinus Philippus Florentinus confesses to
a Socratic ignorance concerning the nature of God. Although the other preachers
are not so explicit as these two, they in general imply that for them living and
loving were far more important than theological subtleties, which in any case
were inadequate to the mysteries being discussed. . . .
One of the fundamental themes of the sermons, no matter what formal category
expressed, was that the universe as God’s creation, was or ought to be a
universe of unity, concord and
harmony. In such a context we should not be surprised that considerable
emphasis is given to the virtue of charity, which had much to recommend it to
the preachers. Marso, once again using a scholastic expression, extols is as
‘the form of all virtue.’ One of the most telling commendations of charity
comes from Ferrariensis. He puts in the mouth of Christ the reproach that what
he found more reprehensible about men was not their delivering him up to death,
but their exercising no mercy or piety towards one another. Although man was to
be restored to the tranquility and concord of Original Justice, he had not been
created that ‘he might pass his days with hands tied, but that he might be
active.’ The activity thus commended often relates directly to the question of
trying to establish peace among the Christian princes and, paradoxically,
taking military measures to contain and defeat the Turks [ though the princes
were reluctant]. But it is more generally viewed in a more specifically
religious context of prayer, acts of
virtue, and diligent praise of God. There is very little, if any, consciousness
of man as the builder of the earthly city, and Marso, indeed, comes close to an
explicit rejection of this idea. What was important, as Florentinus never tired
of reminding his hearers ,was transformation of life . . .
What is certain is that these preachers [above their
ambiguous treatment of the relationship
between grace and free will] hoped to
move the listeners to a better way of life, to encourage them to practice the
art of ‘good and holy living’. This phrase, so often on their lips, was of
course Cicero’s. It’s meaning, however, was translated in terms of Christ’s
example and message. For the rest, the preachers expected their listeners to
react to the great truths they were propounding to them with the appropriate
emotions, emotions which of course varied with the subject matter. However, if
one emotion predominates more than the others, it is that of joy –joy at the
Incarnation, joy over Christ’s abiding presence, joy even over the final
outcome of Adam’s fall and Christ’s death, as interpreted with the liturgical
formula of Holy Saturday’s felice culpa.
Finally, there was joy over the recognition of the marvelous dignity of man, a
dignity which derived from man’s relationship to Christian mystery
The theme of the dignity of man recurs with amazing frequency in these sermons
preached to the pope and his court. .
.We should perhaps not be surprised that this is the case .Most of these
preachers seemed, at the very least, to have been exposed to the humanist
tradition and, therefore, exposed to the dignity-of-man in its humanist form.
Moreover, Renaissance theory that
panegyric was more effective than scolding in producing moral change
might well have had a special attraction for these preachers and they used the
tradition of what Harry Levin calls Renaissance ‘rhetoric of congratulation.’
The range of arguments favoring man’s dignity is broad and subtle, but it can
be reduced tp two general headings: 1) arguments deriving in some way from
man’s nature or his creation by God, 2) and arguments deriving grace or from
man’s redemption by Christ. Charles Trinkaus has convincingly shown the pivotal
role the image-and-likeness verse from Genesis played in the general humanist
tradition on the dignity of man .The preachers at the papal court also latched
onto that verse, and it is quoted or paraphrased frequently. Simply by reason
of his creation man already has a sublime dignity, which indeed prompted Marso
to refer to him in seemingly hermetic terms as divinum animal. ‘Ours is a singular dignity, observes Arzius. In terms
clearly inspired by Pico’s Heptaplus,
he continues: ‘the earth and sea serve man, heaven does battle for him, and the
spirits of heaven care for his salvation and well being.’ Through the nobility
and beauty of the union of body and soul, man was for Ticinensis a ‘microcosm.’
For Arzius and Vasques he was, as citizens of the heavens an as lord of the
earth, the true binding force of the universe; mundi copula et hymenaeus [the world's bond and their marriage]. .
. .
One of the most marvelous qualities of human nature is its thirst for the divine.
God is not so cruel as to deny us of the quenching of this thirst, maintains
Totis, and He calls us to his Friendship. But part of man’s dignity consists in
the fact that he was endowed with free will, that the Creator deigned to share
His causality with him, that he in some mysterious way can choose to fulfill or
to frustrate his desire for God. The argument thus gradually moves from man’s
excellence as created in the image and likeness of God to his transformation or
even ‘deification’ as redeemed by Christ and subject to the workings of grace.
The image and likeness, deformed by sin, is restored and even perfected by the
grace of the Redeemer, so that man becomes more truly a son of God than ever
before. He is, in fact, divinized.
For Ferrariensis nothing is more conducive to man’s dignity than to be able to
do those good and just things which others are incapable of doing. This
capacity derives from grace and constitutes man’s dignity. Through the
sacraments, according to him, the charity of God has been poured into our
hearts by the Holy Spirit, who now dwells within us. In another sermon he
reminds his listeners that God created their souls in love, and that through
love they will transform themselves into gods. The emphasis is not on the
depths of man’s depravity which would require such a salvation, but upon the
immense quantities of God’s love which inspired it. They assess Adam’s sin as
the felix culpa, a truly ‘happy sin’
because it merited so great a Redeemer; as the result of the benefits conferred
upon man by Christ’s redemption, man was in a better condition than he would
have been if Adam had not sinned. .
. .
Conclusion
First
of all, we must resist the impressions
about the content and quality of the sermons at the papal court which we
inherited from Erasmus, Burckhardt, and Pastor; a significant body of that
literature does not correspond to what those authors led us to believe.
Whenever the classics played a role,
they were subordinated scriptural and patristic sources. Although there was a
vigorous element of moral exhortation in these sermons, not even the mendicants
could be described as ‘preachers of penance’. They avoided scholastic arguments
and showed a decided preference for Christian
doctrines which preoccupied thinkers during the patristic era. They tried to
relate these doctrines, abstract and abstruse though they sometimes were, to
the lives of their hearers. If the papal court during the Renaissance was in
many respects ‘pagan’ or ‘exceedingly worldly’ it certainly was not so in the
quality of the sermons it heard.
What was the nature of religion or piety proposed in
these sermons? It was doctrinal and attitudinal It did not rest on the performance
of innumerable and specified external practices of devotion, such as
pilgrimages and the veneration of relics,
nor was a great deal of emphasis placed on the sacraments themselves . . .there
is an amazing little in them that is supportive of ecclesial institutions. Despite
the important ethical concerns expressed in the sermons, the religion they
propound cannot be described principally as ethical, if by that term simply the
performance of morally correct acts. The preachers invited their hearers to
contemplate with them some of the central Christian mysteries, and the hoped to
evoke from the same hearers the proper attitudinal and affective response-
belief, wonder, joy, gratitude, love. They realized full well, however, that the
love or charity with which the Christian life should inspire was not theirs to
give. It was poured into the hearts of their listeners by the Holy Spirit. . .
If Erasmus did not hear about Christ in the Good Friday sermon in 1509, he listened
to a sermon very different from the ones we have been investigating. My researches
confirm Trinkaus’ thesis about the
basically religious, and even theological, inspiration of the theme of the dignity
of man in the Italian Renaissance for the period under discussion. It is in this
theme as propounded by the preachers I studied, we find the data to support
Trinkaus’ assertion that the Renaissance vison of man was based on ’possibly
the most affirmative view of human nature in the history of thought and expression’
. It was a vision projected ‘within the inherited framework of the Christian faith.
What I am trying to say, at a minimum, is that this style of religion and
religious discourse can be clearly distinguished from scholasticism and from the
crude devotional and juridical piety
which Erasmus so often decried for us in scathing terms. The emphasis on inner
attitude and especial the emphasis on God’s charity, which is the basis for the
continuation or restoration of pax and
concordia in the universe, are specific
characteristics which are common in these speeches. Also common is the strong
Christocentism, which qualified and specifies the description ‘anthropocentric’
sometime applied to humanist religion. Perhaps most important of all is the
viewing of the process of the individual’s response to the great mysteries of
his religion’ as the transformation of a total personality through love.’
Bouwsma sees such an emphasis on this transformation as characteristic of the
spirituality of the Italian Renaissance. Our sermons certainly confirm that judgment.
Finally we might submit, that Trinkaus’ term, ’rhetorical theology’, is an accurate
and suggestive one for describing this spirituality. The terms serves to distinguish
this style of religion and religious discourse from ‘monastic theology’ and ‘scholastic
theology’. More important, it suggests that it is a body of literature held
together by certain common presuppositions about the nature and truth of
religion, and tat its ultimate objective as ‘practical’ and ‘active,’ persuasional.
Not abstract speculation, but transformation of life was its goal.