Showing posts with label prayer. Show all posts
Showing posts with label prayer. Show all posts

Saturday, March 29, 2025

Dominican Prayer Gestures (3/29/25)

Medieval prayer was not just a matter of words – it was a full-bodied practice, shaped by movement, posture, and gesture. As Jean-Claude Schmitt observes, such “[g]estures do not derive their meaning from their form but from their social use, from the context in which they were carried out” (p. 133). That is, we understand the significance of certain ways of holding the body and arms from the space in which they occur, the person or persons carrying them out, and the framing activities in which they are embedded.

This post briefly explores three twelfth- and thirteenth-century sources that illuminate the role of gesture in Dominican prayer: Peter the Chanter’s reflections on movement in devotion, Humbert of Romans’ structured taxonomy of bows and prostrations, and the treatises on Saint Dominic’s own prayer postures.

Together, these perspectives reveal how physical expression was not only an outward sign of inner devotion but also a communicative act, shaping and reinforcing the experience of prayer for both the individual and the community.

Peter the Chanter (d. 1197) tells us that prayer is a continuous movement. Take, for instance, his praise of the French at the moment of transubstantiation in the mass: 

these god-fearing men, I say, not only bend their head and kidneys but also remove all their hoods and caps from their heads, [and] prostrate themselves and fall on their face during the making and taking of the flesh and blood of Christ.

Four verbs in one short description: prayer for Peter is both active and sequential. Because of this, he considers gesture to be foundational for the act of praying. The positionality of the body matters in appropriately signaling the state of mind and spirit with which the petitioner approaches prayer. Here, Richard Trexler reminds us, we have submission postures. But to gesture, Peter reminds us, is an action, not an attitude. From a modern perspective, it’s a revelation of energy expended as well as engagement with the moment. Even when held in stasis – as with extended kneeling – the petitioner is putting physical energy into the act of prayer to supplement the verbal energy of the spoken prayer itself. Movement matters.

Trexler rightly points to the inconsistencies among the depictions as well as inconsistencies in Peter’s construction of the biblical authenticity for the seven gestures he articulates. Nevertheless, these “devote postures” are crafted to provide models of action in prayer. As Trexler summarizes, 

Peter the Chanter knew that the most sophisticated reader would learn body motions more quickly through pictures, and he wanted clerks to then act out his seven modes of prayer in a fashion which would edify spectators. Depersonalized figures would teach clerks, whose ritual life would then be the "book of the simple" (Trexler, p. 110).

Humbert of Romans (1200-1277) agrees with Peter the Chanter, at least in part: gesture matters, and it is imitable. Humbert, however, is less taken with ideas of movement and more with its visual endpoints. He offers a gestural grammar that explore the patterns of bending bodies in the context of the liturgy. Humbert provides a six-fold matrix of bows (inclinationes), genuflections (genuflexiones), and prostrations (prostrationes):

In his assessment of Humbert’s discussion, scholar Dmitri Zakharine points out that prostrations were an extended form of genuflection – “an amplification of the genuflection in liturgical ceremony.” (Zakharine, p. 349). He notes, however, that all these gestures had communicative power: they meant something to the petitioner, and, equally, they meant something to those who viewed these gestures.

It’s not unlike the teenager, arms akimbo. There is an authority of attitude inherent in these gestures if we see them in their proper context. For that teen with attitude, we’re mere steps away from the eye roll and the snarky comment. For the prayer-giver, we are in an opposite space, one in which the attitude reinforces a petitioning stance in the adoratio of the liturgy.

And Saint Dominic (1170-1221) himself explored a variety of stances in his prayer, at least as recorded in the multiple copies of The Nine [Alt: Fourteen] Ways of Praying of St Dominic. As Schmitt explores in detail, the illustrations to the Dominican treatise give us a wide range of gestures that Dominic was thought to have modeled.

That passive voice is doing some important work, because while the treatises agree in their hagiographical intent, they disagree, at least in part, about which prayer gestures were important enough to include. As Schmitt puts it, “the saint’s gestures quickly escaped pre-established codification of the inclinations” (Schmitt, p. 133).

The discussions of Dominic’s prayer in the treatise make clear that the captured gestures illustrated in the treatise iconography are part of a broader gestural complex. Take Dominic’s act of reading “some book opened before him.” Schmitt quotes the treatise: “He venerated his book, inclined himself toward it, kissed it with love.” In other words, the saint responded emotively and acted out his impulses in a set of actions – kissing the book, but also covering his head with his hood, or turning away from the book as if overwhelmed by its content. (Schmitt, p. 133)

This is important, because, pace Schmitt, the images and texts “offered a type of practical manual, a guide where the images presented more accurately the description of the gestures and moreover, the movement to imitate” (Schmitt, p. 140). In other words, the wise viewer might use the image as a model, for there is an “imitability” between friar and saint, reinforced by the choice of the vernacular. 

CONCLUSION

Given the differences in what they have to say, Peter, Humbert, and Dominic give us a rich view of medieval prayer gesture. For Peter the Chanter, the action is at the center of the gesture. These gestures reinforce the embodied nature of the petitioner, the life behind the words on the page or spoken into the air. For Humbert, the grammar of gesture is a central concern. He’s trying to think through the categories of meaningful acts, to give us the geometry of suitable self-abnegation, as the petitioner humbles him or herself before god. For Dominic, gesture is part of an almost theatrical construct, a staging in which bodily responses reinforce and make manifest the affective power of prayer.

Much like the implicit codes of modern body language, medieval prayer gestures carried with it meaningful information, shaping and being shaped by those who performed and witnessed them. Schmitt makes the point that prayer gestures were open to scrutiny by all – that one could see the forms of the prayer even if the words were only sub-vocal. Even in silence, the body spoke, making devotion visible to all who had eyes to see.


RESOURCES

Humbert of Romans. “Expositio super constitutiones fratrum praedicatorum.” In Opera Omnia, edited by Joachim Joseph Berthier, vol. 2: 160-167. Stuttgart: Klett Cotta, 1888-1889.

Schmitt, Jean-Claude. “Between Text and Image: the Prayer Gestures of Saint Dominic.” History and Anthropology 1 (1984): 127-162.

Trexler, Richard C. “Legitimating Prayer Gestures in the Twelfth Century. The De Penitentia of Peter the Chanter.” History and Anthropology, 1 (1984): 97-126.

Zakharine, Dmitri. “Medieval Perspectives in Europe: Oral Culture and Bodily Practices.” In Body - Language - Communication, Volume 1, edited by Cornelia Müller, Alan Cienki, Ellen Fricke, Silva Ladewig, David McNeill, Sedinha Tessendorf, pp. 343-364. Handbücher zur Sprach- und Kommunikationswissenschaft, 38,1. Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 2013.

Sunday, March 2, 2025

The Seelengärtlein (Hortulus animae)

The title, Hortulus anime, with an elaborate first initial

The Little Garden of the Soul stands as one of the central prayerbooks of the 16th century, printed and reprinted, translated, and circulated not only in print but also in manuscript. It had first appeared in its Latin guise in 1498, and the German version emerged in 1501. We know it in its German form mostly by the title – Seelengärtlein – taken from a manuscript version (Cod. bibl. pal. Vindob. 2706), which Friedrich Dörnhöffer issued as one of the significant facsimiles of the 20th century. Published in 1911 as a 3-volume set, that facsimile is the standard “footnote me” work for early modern German prayer, famous for its art and for its extensive historical introduction.

But, alas, I did not happen to buy a 3-volume book printed more than 50 years before I was born. Neither, alack and alas, did my University library. And though the book is out of copyright, it’s not readily available in places I have looked.

What to do? Nerd out, of course! My goal as a practical person back in the day was to find a digital reproduction of one of the many early modern prints of the prayer collection. Finding relevant incunabula often has the added advantage of having woodcuts to help with navigation. And who doesn’t love a picture book?

FINDING PRINTS
For the world I inhabit – German language prints pre-1600 – working on such things means consulting the Verzeichnis der Drucke 16. Jahrhundert, also known as VD16 (Register of printed works of the 16th century) 
    http://www.gateway-bayern.de/index_vd16.html

Normally, I would have also gone to the ISTC (Incunabula Short Title Catalogue) – and I did, when I initially worked on this project. But ISTC is a British Library resource and thus was knocked out by the October 2023 cyber-attack. Still, it should come back some day:
    https://www.bl.uk/catalogues/istc/

Then there’s the GW (Gesamtkatalog der Wiegendrucke), the complete catalog of incunabula, but I find it much easier to go there with a printer, place, or year in mind.
    https://www.gesamtkatalogderwiegendrucke.de/

To be honest, the format of the VD16 is the easiest for me to navigate, especially since its display supports clicking through to the full text of the items I’m most curious about.

SEARCHING CREATIVELY
If you search “Hortulus” on VD16, and then ask for the results in chronologically ascending order, you’ll see just how many editions there were!  (Of course, you have to weed out the Hortulus elegantiarum and the Hortulus Musices if you’re looking for editions of the prayer book.)

The Peter Schöffer d.J. edition of 1513 confirms the German name, though with a suitably creative period spelling:

Hortulus anime.|| Zů teütsch genant der || selen g#[ae]rtlin.||

Hortulus animae. In German, known as the “Selen Gärtlin.”

But a remarkable number of the editions are either listed solely by the Latin title (and may in fact be the Latin edition, of course) or just give the Latin title and then say “in German.” But, using the spelling that Schöffer used, “Selen” (for modern-German “Seelen,” Souls), up pop a number of other versions – though the Seelengärtlein, our “Little Garden,” is not to be confused with the Selen Wurzgarten (The soul’s herb-garden), a book which starts with a dramatic picture of a hell-mouth with the devils descending thither:

München, Bayerische Staatsbibliothek -- 2 P.lat. 1766  Der Seelen Wurzgarten Augsburg
1504, VD16 S 5276


It’s dramatic, but it isn’t prayers; the Wurzgarten is narrative, and features an awful lot of devils.

Our prayerbook version – the regular garden, not the herb one – can be found in a German translation by Brant, published in Straßburg in 1501 by Johann Wähinger (VD16 H 5078) and again in 1502 (VD16 ZV 8229). In that 1501 version, Brant stakes a strong claim to authorship:
 

Ortulus anĩe. Der selen gärtlin wurd ich genent ... || Zu Straßburg in sym vatterlant || Hat mich Sebastianus Brant || Besehen vnd vast corrigiert || Zum tütschem ouch vil transferiert

[H]Ortulus anime. I was called the selen gärtlin ... || In Strasbourg in his fatherland || Sebastianus Brant || Inspected me and corrected me a lot || Also transferred to the German.

Brant inspected and corrected – extensively, he claims! – and “transferred” it into German. It’s a big project, so perhaps his over-the-top claims are warranted.

And from there, as we have seen, the prints spread and spread. There are a lot of them, and one could spend years comparing them all. But that isn’t my particular rabbit hole.

ACCESSING THE PRAYERS OF THE SEELENGÄRTLEIN
Because I was interested in accessing the prayer-texts themselves, and not just the digitized version, I worked through the list of editions on VD16 for one that had an OCR version as well as an online visual representation. During pandemic times (back in 2020), I settled on Johannes Knoblouch’s edition of the Seelengärtlein (Hortulus animae) from Straßburg, 1507 [VD16 H 5082]. That version was available in two ways:

1) directly from the BSB: urn:nbn:de:bvb:12-bsb00009026-0 – use the URN resolver: https://nbn-resolving.org/gui/urn to navigate there
2) from Google Books: https://books.google.com/books?id=AdhCMsIz-jkC.

With both copies in hand, and time hanging heavy on my hands, I indexed the volume. The index was built starting from the volume’s Register (found on fols. 243v-247v), and adopts the foliation conventions from the BSB copy. Since Knoblouch himself used a combination of signature (Sig) and folio (fol) in the register in order to show location within the gathering structure of the volume, I preserve them in columns 2 and 3 of the index.

Overall, I decided that the subsections of prayers – sections which might spin out and be transmitted independently or might migrate into another prayer complex – needed to be included, but I greyed out all but the first section, so one can readily see which is the starting prayer (white) and which the subsections (grey) in a multi-partite prayer.

A sample from the index -- the rubric is in red, the first segment is white, and the subsequent sections are greyed out


To round out my work, I gave brief descriptions of the 73 woodcuts from the perspective of navigating the volume. Thus, I list St Gertrude, but not her cats -- or are those the mice that she banished? None of the animals made my description, for it is St Gertrude herself who is the navigational marker, setting the reader up for the next prayer "Seyest gegrůßt heilige iungfraw sant Gerdrut die du geboren bist von königlichem stammen..." [Hail, holy virgin Saint Gertrude, born of royal descent].

For those who are intrigued, I have made the index available through google sheets:

https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/14UgeWOq9iPZ88uQiWw6a0PnPCrADabp5YqrGazk6Tuk/edit?usp=sharing

You too can play with the index by sorting columns this way and that way, and use it to navigate within the digital covers of the book itself.


AND IN CONCLUSION:
The Seelengärtlein may have begun as a 16th-century prayerbook, but its history is one of persistence, adaptation, and circulation across languages, formats, and centuries. My deep dive into its editions—navigating catalogs, parsing digital copies, and building an index—reflects the same impulse that shaped its transmission: the desire to make these prayers accessible, ordered, and usable. Whether in manuscript, print, or digital form, the Seelengärtlein continues to grow, much like the metaphorical garden it evokes. 


Managing Bibliography By Spreadsheet

In this post, I walk through how I structure and use a bibliography spreadsheet—from initial setup to prioritization, assessment strategies,...