Mass Intentions: The Historical Development of a Practice: [Mass Intentions—Part One]

Introduction

A great deal of liturgical–sacramental theology has been produced since the end of the Second Vatican Council fifty-five years ago. Much of this theology has profited from sustained reflection on the reform of the liturgy which emerged from the Council. But despite the quality and quantity of the theology that has been written, especially on the Eucharist, very little seems to have been done with regard to an issue which has persisted and arguably raises some significant questions. I refer to the practice of having a Eucharist offered for a specific intention. ¹

This question is closely tied to the issue of the benefits or “fruits” of the Mass. Up until the Council itself, as we shall see, there were lively debates among theologians as well as magisterial pronouncements with regard to intentions and the fruits of the Mass. It could be argued that the paucity of attention given to these themes in recent decades might signal that they have been transcended by other theological questions and pastoral issues with regard to liturgical reform. A younger generation unschooled in the pieties of the past may simply let the practice of asking for the Mass to be offered for a particular intention lapse into the mists of time. It is very common, even now, however, to hear or read the words: “This Mass is being offered for” or even to hear a priest say: “I am offering this Mass for.” Despite theology having moved on to more pressing contemporary issues like the relation between liturgy and ethics, liturgy and society, liturgy and ecology, and newer ways of thinking about eucharistic presence and eucharistic sacrifice, ² it seems to me that the practice of offering the Mass for particular intentions has had great staying power. We shall see that this is the case for some very good reasons.

At the same time, however, we need to ask some important questions: What precisely does it mean to offer the Mass for an intention or for multiple intentions? Whom is the Mass benefiting and how? My aim in this article and a subsequent one is to attempt to describe the multiple practices and elements of piety that have brought us to our present use of Mass intentions. I have no intention of arguing that we should do away with asking for intentions to be remembered at the Eucharist, but I do think the practice needs to be rethought and reformed.

In light of these questions, the present article will survey the historical development of bringing particular intentions to the celebration of the Eucharist as well as aim to discover how an attitude and practice of restricting Mass intentions gradually became common practice. ³ I shall then proceed to analyze the theological grounding and discussion of the practice that developed in scholastic and neo-Scholastic theology leading up to but not including the early twentieth-century eucharistic theology of Maurice de la Taille and especially Karl Rahner’s important 1949 essay “Die vielen Messen und das eine Opfer.” ⁴ Beginning with de la Taille and Rahner, a subsequent article will treat twentieth-century theological and canonical material on Mass intentions and the fruits of the Mass with the aim of understanding how this practice might be better dealt with in light of the post-Vatican II liturgical reform and contemporary eucharistic theology.

Perhaps the most sensitive and debated issue to be dealt with in both articles will be the relation between the priest and the offering of the eucharistic sacrifice—in other words, whether and how the celebrating priest’s intention differs from that of the church as a whole and the individuals who make up any particular worshiping assembly. Precisely what does it mean to say that the priest “applies” a particular intention in the celebration of the Eucharist—either as presider or as a concelebrant? As we shall see, an adequate answer to this question depends on taking into consideration a large number of historical factors both in practice and in theological reflection.

I have deliberately not entitled this article “Mass Stipends.” In the first place, the term “stipend” has been done away with in the 1983 Code of Canon Law, and in the second place, although we shall inevitably be dealing with monetary offerings as we try to sort out the practice of Mass intentions, I believe that the monetary question needs to be considered in light of the larger theological issues.

After some brief consideration of petitionary or intercessory prayer in general, I shall turn to how traditional liturgies incorporated intercession, how this was reflected in early Christian literature, especially with regard to remembering the dead, and how this was connected to the support of the clergy. I shall then shift the focus to a major cultural turning point which I shall call “Germanization” in the early Middle Ages. Although the seeds of later practice can be found before Christianity migrated north of the Alps, a Germanic mentality significantly transformed how Christians thought about bringing particular intentions to the celebration of the Eucharist. With these foundations in practice, I will then turn to the contributions of major medieval theologians like Thomas Aquinas and John Duns Scotus, the reaction of sixteenth-century Protestant reformers, the Council of Trent, and some representative post-Tridentine theologians up to the neo-Scholastic consensus on the question of intentions in the early twentieth century.

Praying for the Living and the Dead

There is a profound human instinct to lift up concerns to God in prayer—for oneself and for others including the dead. Such prayer can be found throughout human history. Along with praise, thanksgiving, and repentance, intercessory prayer is naturally a staple of any religious tradition. In the Old Testament, one need only mention the Psalms 28, 67, 74, 83, and 85 as well as Nehemiah 9 and Daniel 9. ⁵ Among the Jews of the New Testament period and later, petitions which constituted most of the Eighteen Benedictions, Tefillah (Prayer) or Amidah (Standing) recited three times daily were standard. ⁶

From the outset, it is clear that Christians have offered intercessory prayers for both the living and the dead. As is the case with Jewish prayer, intercessory and petitionary (or impetratory) prayer is found throughout the New Testament—e.g., John 17, Acts 7, 1 Timothy 2:1; James 5:13–18. One of the earliest known post-New Testament texts, the (late first century?) Didache, contains petitions for the church in both of its series of meal prayers. ⁷

In light of our subject, we need to underline the importance of praying for the dead. Ramsey MacMullen has argued that in its first several centuries, popular Christianity was very much associated with the cult of the dead. ⁸ Therefore, it should come as little surprise that early on Christians prayed for their dead in formal liturgies. One of the earliest examples of intercessory prayer at eucharistic celebrations for the dead is found in Tertullian’s De Corona: “Each year, on the day of their birthdays [into heaven], we make offerings for the deceased.” ⁹ Among many others, Cyril of Jerusalem, in describing the celebration of the Eucharist to the newly baptized, mentions offering prayers for the dead. ¹⁰ Perhaps the best-known early example of the Mass being offered for the dead is found in Augustine’s Confessions. Augustine and his mother Monica were returning to Africa and she took ill at Ostia. She asked him to leave her body there but to remember her at the Eucharist: “Put this body anywhere. Do not let care about it disturb you. I ask only this: that you remember me at the altar of the Lord, wherever you may be.” ¹¹ Various chapels found in the Roman catacombs also bear testimony to the fact that the Eucharist was celebrated in them for the dead who were buried there. In doing so the early Christians adapted and Christianized the general cultural customs of holding meals at the graves of the dead. ¹²

The extent to which praying for the dead affected Christian thought and practice has recently been discussed extensively by Peter Brown. Brown focuses particularly on Augustine, who articulated the notion that prayers for the dead needed to be offered not for those in heaven nor in hell, but rather for the great number of Christians who fell in between—the “not altogether good and the not altogether bad” (non valde boni et non valde mali). ¹³ In other words, Christians needed to pray for those who would later be considered (temporary) residents of purgatory. And so, in praying for the dead early Christians presumed the importance of pleading for the forgiveness of their sins.

We have already noted petitions in the proto-eucharistic table prayers of the Didache. In fact, all of the eucharistic prayers that we know from the very beginning include some sort of petitionary prayer—normally for the church and its unity. ¹⁴ From the late fourth century onward at the latest, eucharistic prayers also include intercessions for the living and the dead. We shall limit ourselves to two examples. First, we find the following after the epiclesis in the Egyptian Anaphora of St. Basil:

Remember, Lord, also your one, holy, catholic and apostolic Church; give it peace, for you purchased it with the precious blood of Christ; and (remember) all the orthodox bishops in it.

Remember first of all your servant Archbishop. . .

Remember, Lord, the priests and all the deacons who assist, all those in virginity and chastity, and all your faithful people, and have mercy on them all.

Remember, Lord, also this place, and those who live in it in the faith of God.

Remember, Lord, also the mildness of climate and the fruits of the earth.

Remember, Lord, those who offer these gifts to you, and those for whom they offered them; and grant them all a heavenly reward.

Since, Master, it is a command of your only-begotten Son that we should share in the commemoration of your saints, vouchsafe to remember, Lord, those of our fathers who have been pleasing to you from eternity. . .

Remember likewise all those of the priesthood who have already died, and all those of lay rank; and grant them rest in the bosom of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, in green pastures, by waters of comfort, in a place where grief, sorrow, and silence have fled away.

(To the deacon) Read the names. (The deacon reads the diptychs.)

Give them rest in your presence; preserve in your faith us who live here, guide us to your kingdom, and grant us your peace at all times; through Jesus Christ and the Holy Spirit. ¹⁵

In addition, the Roman Canon, much of which probably stems from the fourth century, contains two passages that intercede for individuals:

Remember, Lord, your male and female servants, and all who stand around, whose faith and devotion are known to you, for whom we offer to you, or (pro quibus offerimus tibi, vel) who offer to you this sacrifice of praise for themselves and for all their own, for the redemption of their souls, for the hope of their salvation and safety, and pay their vows to you, the living, true, and eternal God.

Remember also, Lord, your male and female servants who have gone before us with the sign of faith, and sleep the sleep of peace. We beseech you to grant to them and to all who rest in Christ a place of refreshment, light, and peace. ¹⁶

On certain occasions the Roman Canon also made provision for a special formula specifying prayers for individuals like the newly baptized or a married couple in the prayer penultimate to the institution narrative, the Hanc igitur. ¹⁷

Several further comments are in order with regard to the Roman Canon. First, the italicized phrase (“for whom we offer, or”) in the commemoration of the living is a ninth-century addition which refers to offering the Eucharist on behalf of absent donors. ¹⁸ Second, the commemoration of the dead becomes a fixed part of the Roman Canon also in the ninth century. ¹⁹ Up to this point the commemoration of the dead could be inserted on weekdays but not on Sundays. In a similar fashion, in the Christian East it was common to mention the names of the living and the dead in what are known as the diptychs. ²⁰ Moreover, Masses could be said for any number of intentions, presumably for smaller groups. This is abundantly clear in the third part of the seventh-century “Old Gelasian” Sacramentary which includes Masses for the dead, the salvation of the living, weddings, widows, and even birthdays. ²¹

Specifying particular intentions seems to have been a practice that originated at the latest in the commemorations of the dead in the third century, but in the Roman Canon we note a significant shift toward narrowing the focus of these prayers. We shall turn to a possible reason for this shift below. Nonetheless, praying for individuals at the Mass is a time-honored and consistent feature of eucharistic practice.

To the ample evidence for eucharistic celebrations in favor of small groups especially in remembrance of the dead, we need to add another factor common to Christian liturgy from at least the mid-second century, namely the bringing of gifts. ²² People would bring not only the bread and wine necessary for the celebration, but also food that was to be distributed to the poor after the celebration. ²³ In fact, offertory processions lasted well into the Middle Ages. ²⁴ In the West, the most thorough description of the practice is found in the early eighth-century Ordo Romanus Primus where the pope collects the gifts from the men and the women at the head of the chancel. ²⁵ Eventually, as we can detect as early as Jerome in the late fourth century, ²⁶ such gifts also included monetary donations for the church and the support of the clergy. I shall connect monetary gifts with the economic support of the clergy as an important factor in the development of Mass intentions below.

A Crucial Turning Point: “Germanization”

We have seen that in the classic eucharistic prayers, intercession was made for many categories of people, including the dead. But even when eucharistic celebrations were focused on a particular group or individual, we can find no sense in which they were considered exclusive of other petitions. M. Francis Mannion has referred to this earlier practice as the “principle of inclusion.” But how then did the practice of isolating a single Mass intention as primary or exclusive develop?

The shorthand answer is “Germanization.” That is, in the early Middle Ages we can note a cultural shift in Christian theology and practice from the classical Mediterranean cultural world to that of the world north of the Alps. One of the first authors to note this shift in mentality was Alexander Gerken, who noted the transformation of thinking about eucharistic presence from a philosophical worldview that was comfortable with Platonism and the concept of symbolic reality associated with it to a more Teutonic or Germanic and pragmatic worldview characterized by quantification, objectification, or quid pro quo. ²⁷ In this way, the tendency to quantify and objectify God’s dealings with human beings grew ever more prevalent. This thesis was expanded by James Russell in his The Germanization of Early Medieval Christianity. ²⁸ A good example of the change was the tendency to regard the Eucharist as the consecrated bread and wine rather than the celebration itself. ²⁹ The consecrated eucharistic elements tended to be treated as objects. The consecrated bread was even at times inserted into the cornerstone of a church building. ³⁰

In terms of the prayers of the Eucharist, the inclusion of the phrase “for whom we offer to you, or” in the Roman Canon (mentioned above) is indicative of a shift whereby absent donors could make a money offering for the Eucharist. ³¹ People continued to offer other material gifts for the sustenance of the clergy, but as we saw above now monetary gifts could be substituted for them. ³² From here it was a short (even if theologically unsustainable) leap to the notion that the Mass could somehow be “paid for.” In fact, phrases that were eventually used were comparatio missae and missam comparare (to buy the Mass).

The “Germanic” process of quantifying sacred benefits also enters in at this point. To be sure the practice of a number of Masses arranged as a series of votive Masses for the dead can be traced back to Gregory the Great (590–604). ³³ This practice, however, became ever more popular as Christianity became more and more “Germanized.” It is possible to exaggerate the discontinuity between the classical world of Gregory the Great and later developments north of the Alps, but indeed a significant cultural shift undeniably did occur.

Private (Votive) Masses

As I have noted above, the practice of praying at the Mass not only for the dead but specifically for the forgiveness of their sins can be discerned rather early on, but as Peter Brown has argued, the post-classical cultural shift shows a greater and greater interest in connecting penance for sins and the celebration of the Mass. ³⁴ That connection became so burdensome that it featured as one of the breaking points in the sixteenth-century Protestant Reformation.

It was in the early medieval period that we find the explicit principle that a priest might receive alms to make a special remembrance of someone at a “private,” that is, votive Mass in the Rule for Canons of Chrodegang of Metz (743–66). ³⁵ A Roman Synod in 853, however, reacted by rejecting the practice of priests accepting alms for a Mass for only one or even a few intentions, thus favoring the notion that the benefits of the Mass could not be limited to a single intention. ³⁶ The question of whether it is legitimate to limit the intentions of a eucharistic celebration remains contested up to the present, and will be a major concern of a subsequent article.

In reviewing the medieval development of Mass stipends, a practice intimately bound up with Mass intentions, Edward Kilmartin cites an important canon from the beginning of the twelfth century, Non mediocriter, which insists that a Mass said for the intentions of a hundred souls has the same effect as a Mass said for one. ³⁷ This is a principle to which we shall return: the effects of the Eucharist are not like dividing up a pie. A similar view of Praepositinus of Cremona (early thirteenth century), often repeated by later theologians, held that a single Mass can have as much effect for many souls in purgatory as for one soul. ³⁸ This view held sway with many theologians for many centuries.

The result of the cultural shift I have called “Germanization” was, as Jungmann observes, that the tangible connection between the faithful as offerers present at the Eucharist, in other words, their active participation, was gradually lost. ³⁹ An indication of the tendency to make the presence of those who presented gifts at the Eucharist superfluous was the introduction of offertory prayers in which the priest uses the singular “I offer” instead of the traditional plural “we offer,” a practice we find as early as the eighth century. ⁴⁰

Another factor related to the proliferation of Masses for particular individuals is the development of the solitary Mass (now commonly referred to as “private”). ⁴¹ The terminological distinction here is significant. A “private” Mass could be one offered with only a few communicants or a few non-communicating participants or even a single server. It was a common practice in religious congregations of men up until the Second Vatican Council. A “solitary” Mass, on the other hand, referred to one said by the priest without any participants whatever. ⁴² The solitary Mass developed despite the inconsistency of using “we” and dialogical formulae in the Mass. The proliferation of these Masses, often simultaneously in the same church, meant that singing was inopportune and thus led to the development of what came to be known as the “low Mass.” ⁴³ Vogel points out that the practice of solitary Masses was encouraged by the appearance of so-called plenary missals—i.e., Mass books which contained everything necessary for the celebration. ⁴⁴ Subsequently every text of the Mass (e.g., each reading) was recited by the celebrating priest regardless of whether other ministers were proclaiming or singing those texts. ⁴⁵ By the time of the Missal of Pius V (1570), the low Mass had become the standard and sung Masses the exception. Here we should note that the practice of many priests celebrating the Eucharist at the same time at different altars was avoided in the Eastern churches, which contained only one altar in each church and abided by the practice of one celebration taking place on any given day. ⁴⁶

A number of theories have been advanced as to the reason these solitary Masses developed. ⁴⁷ For Cyrille Vogel the desire for more and more votive Masses (i.e., Mass for varying intentions), led to ordaining large numbers of monks (hitherto few were ordained) in order to fulfill this need. Ordaining a large number of monks had two unfortunate consequences. First, the ministry of the priest was unmoored from the exercise of pastoral ministry and second, the Mass itself, isolated from its communal context, could become in and of itself an opus bonum, a good work. This development was crucial to the eventual distinction made with regard to Mass intentions, as we shall see. I would argue that what made this possible was the cultural shift I have referred to as “Germanization,” which allowed a reification of the fundamentally relational idea of grace. I shall refer to this as the “objectification of grace.”

This is not to deny, as we have already noted, that from very early on the Eucharist was celebrated, even in smaller groups, for various particular intentions. That much is clear. But the isolation of the Mass as a rite which could be performed independent of participants demonstrates an undeniable cultural shift. The most important shift is the fact that those making gifts and requesting that the Mass be offered for a particular intention need not be present at the celebration. And these gifts by absent donors could be considerable. Vogel goes on to note that by the ninth century at the monastery of Fulda one thousand Masses were said for the emperor Lothair, his deceased father, and for his army. ⁴⁸ Clearly, the more Masses, the merrier. Anyone who has visited European churches can observe that the rich were able to endow foundations or chantries where numerous Masses could be said for their souls or the souls of their loved ones. ⁴⁹

I have noted above that concern for the Eucharist as a means of remission for penance and the punishment incurred by it grew during the Middle Ages. Likewise, Vogel also points out that a motive for the multiplication of private Masses was the ability to substitute (i.e., commute) punishment due to sins of the living as well as the dead by means of Mass donations. ⁵⁰ This development went hand in hand with the increasing concern with purgatory as a state which required expiation for sins. ⁵¹ The church, it was asserted, is the keeper of a “treasury of merit” from which it can bestow the remission of sins—hence the practice of indulgences. ⁵² Below I shall connect this development with the tradition of the support of the clergy.

We can connect this further to the increasing fear in the Middle Ages of punishment in the afterlife. Vogel attributes this fear partially to a loss of an Augustinian understanding of grace that the monks substituted (at least in the practical order) with a Pelagian striving to earn salvation. ⁵³ Since earning salvation by one’s own good works was impossible, as the monks knew, a means had to be found that could assure the graces needed to attain eternal life. Hence the importance of the celebration of the Eucharist—i.e., as many Masses as possible. Until reforms were put into place this encouraged or at least permitted priests to celebrate seven or more Masses per day. ⁵⁴ For Vogel, this was the decisive factor in the need to multiply Masses and therefore priests and therefore private celebrations. He sums all of this up nicely:

One can say with reason that the mysterium tends to becomes officium quotidianum or, if you prefer, that the progressive divinization of the Christian through and in the Eucharist is eliminated in favor by a cultic activity which is nothing more than an instrumental means of salvation. ⁵⁵

We can note a different theory proposed by Otto Nussbaum in which the multiplication of Masses and therefore priests was even more directly related to the popularity of the idea of the Eucharist as an opus bonum, which we mentioned above. ⁵⁶ Here we can observe the influence of the objectifying direction that I have associated with “Germanization.” The commodification of the sacred is nothing new.

Finally, we should mention the theory proposed by Angelus Häussling, who attributed the multiplication of Masses, and thus the proliferation of private Masses understood as small group celebrations, to the votive Masses celebrated in Roman churches and shrines, especially at the graves of the dead. The “model” Roman stational arrangement of churches and shrines was imitated in the various monasteries north of the Alps. ⁵⁷ In that “stational” system on any particular day, the main Eucharist of the city was celebrated at a different church by the pope or his representative. ⁵⁸ In other words, monasteries could not build the number of churches that made up the complex liturgical system of Rome. Therefore, the monks constructed multiple altars in their churches in imitation of the Roman practice. The very multiplication of altars encouraged Christians in their desire to celebrate the liturgy for their particular intentions, which in turn led to the multiplication of priests and Masses.

The Support of the Priest

At this point we can turn to another piece of the puzzle, namely the economic support of the clergy. It is clear that from very early on, perhaps even as early as the New Testament period, those who were considered ministers received support from the community. St. Paul writes: “Do you not know that those who are employed in the temple service get their food from the temple, and those who serve at the altar share in what is sacrificed on the altar? In the same way, the Lord commanded that those who proclaim the gospel should get their living by the gospel” (1 Cor 9:13–14). ⁵⁹

Speaking of “the elders who rule well” especially in preaching and teaching, the author of 1 Timothy mentions that they are deserving of a double portion. He goes on to quote the saying “the laborer deserves his wage” (1 Tim 5:17–18). ⁶⁰ We know from Justin Martyr that Christians brought the gifts for the eucharistic celebration as well as gifts to be distributed to the poor. ⁶¹ Since the clergy were supported by the church, we can presume that eventually a share of these gifts was given to them just as the priests of the Temple themselves received a portion of the sacrifices (1 Cor 9:13). By the mid-third century, Cyprian of Carthage argued that clergy should refrain from secular activities and accept community support. ⁶² In addition, St. Jerome witnessed to the fact that money offerings could be made in conjunction with the Eucharist. By the eighth or ninth century, it was commonly accepted that the clergy were supported economically at least in part by donations that people made in order for the Eucharist to be celebrated for their particular intentions.

Up to this point, I have been describing the various factors that eventually fed into the system of Mass intentions as we have known it since the later Middle Ages. These have included: petitionary liturgical prayer, prayers offered for the living and the dead, intercessory prayers at the Eucharist, Mass offerings, the cultural shift known as “Germanization,” the development of private (votive) Masses, and the support of the priest. My point here is that the practice of Mass intentions did not arise so much from sustained or systematic theological reflection as it did from a variety of practices. Only eventually, as we shall see, did this turn into a theory.

The Fruits (Benefits) of the Mass or the Medieval Synthesis: From Practice to Theology

As from early on, praying for specific intentions implied that some benefit accrued to the object of the intention. The benefits were called the fruits of the Mass. What we have come to experience still today as honoring Mass intentions achieves a kind of synthesis in the course of the Middle Ages. That synthesis is more or less settled in the theological explanation given by John Duns Scotus at the end of the thirteenth century, which was for the most part taken for granted by the Council of Trent with its affirmation of the effectiveness of the Mass as intercession for the living and dead. Subsequent post-Tridentine theologians further speculated on the issue of the “fruits of the Mass,” and it remained a topic for theological reflection, especially among the neo-Scholastics, well into the twentieth century. As I suggested at the beginning of this article, the topic of the fruits of the Mass and Mass intentions seems to have faded from view in most contemporary theologies of the Eucharist. I will speculate on that further in a second article, but in the meantime we need to trace the development of the medieval synthesis and its heirs.

One of the natural and reasonable developments in theological reflection on the Eucharist concerned the effectiveness of the Mass. In other words, what is the purpose of the Eucharist and how is that purpose effective for the church and for individuals? To be sure after the eleventh-century Berengarian controversy over the presence of Christ in the Eucharist, as well as the questions that arose about real presence within the heretical movements like the Cathars and Albigensians, theological reflection on the real presence became a crucial focus in thirteenth-century Scholastic theology. It is no exaggeration to say that reflection about the real presence achieved a kind of peak of sophistication in the theological work of St. Thomas Aquinas. ⁶³ As is normally the case with theology, the most pressing issues take up most of the air in the room.

But there are two other aspects of the Eucharist which were not ignored, even if they seemed secondary to the question of real presence: the relation between the celebration of the Mass to the sacrifice of Christ, on the one hand, and the reception of holy communion, on the other. Unfortunately, as the decrees of the Council of Trent demonstrate, all three of the major issues of eucharistic theology tended to be treated separately over time. ⁶⁴ Part and parcel of these is the question of the effectiveness of the Eucharist and the fruits of the Mass. Here we shall limit ourselves mainly to the theology of Thomas Aquinas before we go on to the more detailed development of the fruits of the Mass in John Duns Scotus. ⁶⁵

Thomas Aquinas

Thomas Aquinas takes up the question of the effects of the Eucharist in Question 79 of Part Three of his Summa Theologiae. Earlier scholastic theologians had distinguished three aspects of the sacraments in order to analyze how they worked: sacramentum tantum (the sacrament as such), res et sacramentum (reality and sacrament), and res (the reality or grace). Briefly, the sacramentum refers to the actual celebration with all that is needed for its validity—i.e., form, matter, the proper minister, and the intention to do what the church intends. The res et sacramentum is the reality immediately produced by the sacrament itself. For example, in the case of baptism, it is the permanent change (or character) in the individual. In the case of the Eucharist, it is the real presence of Christ. The res, however, is the ultimate goal of the sacrament. In the case of the Eucharist, the goal or point or grace of the sacrament is union in and with Christ, which is to say communally (in) and individually (with). ⁶⁶ The effects of the sacrament are intimately related to this last aspect, the res.

For Thomas, the Eucharist is effective primarily in two ways: as sacrament through reception and as sacrifice through offering. To the objection that the sacrament does not give grace, he responds that the Eucharist contains Christ who has been united to humanity through the Incarnation, that it presents Christ’s passion, nourishes the soul just as food and drink nourish the body, and (quoting St. Augustine) brings about unity through the nature of bread and wine being shared. ⁶⁷ But for him, there is nothing magical or automatic in all of this, since in light of its ultimate goal (union in and with Christ) together with the bestowal of grace, the Eucharist impels us to charity, to love. ⁶⁸ Receiving the sacrament cannot achieve its effect in the unworthy (i.e., those guilty of mortal sin) precisely because they lack charity.

When he reaches the issue of how the Eucharist relates to satisfaction for sin, Thomas makes a distinction which for our purposes goes to the heart of the matter. Although the sacrament of reconciliation absolves the penitent of his/her sins, the tradition held that in justice some punishment for sins was due—either by penitential acts in this life or by suffering (purgatory) in the life to come. Prayers and the offering of the Eucharist were a means to make up for or satisfy for the punishment due to sin. Here he needs to distinguish between the Eucharist as sacrament and sacrifice. It renders satisfaction to the recipient of the sacrament insofar as it increases his or her charity. But it effects satisfaction as sacrifice in proportion to the devotion of the one making the offering. ⁶⁹

Finally, he comes to a question which has even greater relevance for understanding the practice and theory of Mass intentions: Does the sacrament benefit others besides recipients? He answers that it cannot benefit others as a sacrament—i.e., by reception. On the other hand, he appeals to liturgical practice, the lex orandi, as the basis for his affirmation that the Eucharist is effective for the salvation of others as sacrifice. Here he cites the offering formula (“for whom we offer, or who offer to you. . .”) of the Roman Canon. But this effect too is directly related to the devotion of the offerers: “As Christ’s Passion benefits all, being sufficient for the forgiving of sins and the attaining of grace and glory, though it produces no effect save in those who are united to his Passion through faith and charity, so likewise this sacrifice, which is a memorial of the Lord’s Passion, has no effect save on those who are united to the sacrament through faith and charity. . . . Others, however, are helped, some more, some less, according to the measure of their devotion.” ⁷⁰

Does multiplying Masses mean more grace, more benefits? Here he says: “As for the offering of sacrifice, however, that is multiplied in many masses, and so the sacramental and sacrificial effect is increased.” ⁷¹ I am assuming that this is because it represents an increase in devotion, but unfortunately he does not elaborate. Perhaps it is because he is relying fundamentally on practice, as he frequently does with regard to other questions. He does not mention offering of the Mass for the dead directly here, but his continuator, Reginald di Piperno, does in the Supplement to which we turn.

Question 71 in the Supplement to the Third Part of Thomas’s Summa (on eschatology) deals with questions regarding prayer for the dead. As one would expect, Reginald argues that prayers for the living and the dead are efficacious. Like his mentor, he appeals a number of times to the practice of the church. ⁷² Second, he frequently mentions that prayers (especially the Mass) arise from charity, which we have already seen is essential to the efficacy of the Eucharist. ⁷³ After discussing whether prayers profit those in hell (no), purgatory (yes), limbo (no), or the saints (no), he proceeds to the question of offering the Mass for the dead—i.e., Augustine’s the not entirely good and the not entirely bad. His answer is simple and direct: “the suffrages of the living profit the dead in so far as the latter are united to the living in charity, and in so far as the intention of the living is directed to the dead.” ⁷⁴ The Mass is efficacious both on the basis of its being a sacrifice and on the basis of prayers for the dead which are appointed by the church (practice again). As we saw above with regard to the effects of the Eucharist, the efficacy of the prayers is directly related to the devotion of the offerers. This is why he can argue that the intensity of the prayer is lessened if the one praying prays for many rather than one because a prayer has a “finite efficacy.” ⁷⁵

Since the question we have just considered is part of the treatment of eschatology, there is no focus on the role of the priest in applying the intention, except to take it for granted—practice yet again. ⁷⁶ To address the issue of how the priest relates to the Mass intention, we need to turn to the Franciscan theologian who refined the theology of the fruits of the Mass, John Duns Scotus.

John Duns Scotus

Rahner claims that it is not possible to trace the three-fold distinction of the fructus generalis (general benefit), fructus specialis (specific benefit), and fructus generalissimus (most special benefit) to any theologian before Scotus. ⁷⁷ All the same, Scotus’s distinction of the fruits or benefits of the Mass is not entirely surprising. As Edward Kilmartin has pointed out, Scotus’s differentiation of the fruits of the Mass is dependent on his opinion that the Eucharistic sacrifice is not offered directly by Christ because he offered himself once-for-all in his sacrifice on the cross. The Mass is offered directly by the church and so its effects are limited intrinsically by the devotion of the church. ⁷⁸ As Scotus writes:

When the Eucharist is offered, it is accepted (by God) only in a measure proportioned to the good will of the offerer. . . . Now this acceptance is not proportioned directly to the Will of Christ as offerer, since although he is offered, being the reality contained in the sacrifice, yet he is not here the proximate offerer of the sacrifice. As we read in Hebrews ix, ‘nor does he make a repeated offering of himself’; and again, ‘Christ was offered once’—that is, with himself as offerer. ⁷⁹

Kilmartin explains:

One of the basic reasons why Scotus appealed to the self-offering of the universal Church was his conviction that every valid Mass infallibly produces fruits which are a participation in the graces derived from the sacrifice of the cross. This was the common doctrine of contemporary theology. To explain this efficacy of the Mass, theologians often appealed to the concept of the efficacy of the sacraments ex opere operato and applied it to the Mass in an analogous fashion. However, Scotus was able to explain this presumed infallible effect by appealing to the concept of the application of the devotion of the saints of the universal militant Church who associate themselves with the Masses of the world. Since there are always some saints in the Church on earth, their participation in the Masses of the world by their intention secures the infallible efficacy of each Mass for the living and the dead. ⁸⁰

And so, a general benefit (fruit) comes to the whole church from the celebration of the Eucharist. This is clearly the case on the basis of Christ’s all-sufficient sacrifice which Christ entrusted to the Church to be celebrated in the Eucharist. We can add that one can come to the same conclusion on the basis of the prayers (especially the Eucharistic prayer) of the Mass themselves.

We can also affirm that what Scotus calls a special fruit is based on the church’s venerable tradition of praying for specific purposes or persons (living or dead) at the Eucharist—i.e., votive Masses. The most special fruit or benefit given to the priest himself seems to be a distinction that is new to Scotus. It is, however, a logical consequence of the fact that in the course of the Middle Ages participation in the Mass by the faithful was all but irrelevant. What counted was the priest’s ability to consecrate and his unique role in offering the eucharistic sacrifice. And often enough, he was the sole communicant even when other members of the faithful were present.

The first benefit—the general fruit—is not controversial. The second and third benefits, however, need further examination. The general fruit is sanctioned by tradition, but the fact that the priest himself can limit this intention simply because he is the presiding celebrant is theologically dubious, as I shall argue in a subsequent article. There I hope to show that the complex development with regard to the role of the priest, which is also tied to the practice of private and solitary Masses, needs even more scrutiny, especially in light of modern eucharistic theology. All the same, it seems that by the time of Scotus the idea that the priest himself had the power to determine a particular intention for the celebration of the Eucharist was taken for granted.

Scotus did not win the day entirely. We can note here that the Council of Trent explicitly rejected his position by insisting on the identity of the Mass and Christ’s sacrifice in the mode of representation. ⁸¹ Even prior to Trent, the distinguished Thomist Dominican theologian Thomas de Vio (Cajetan) had espoused a view that differed from Scotus: Christ is the primary offerer of the eucharistic sacrifice which differs from the sacrifice of Calvary only in that it is unbloody. For Cajetan, as with Aquinas/Reginald in the Supplement to the Summa, the limitation of the fruits of the Mass is determined only by the devotion of the offerers, because the priest offers in the person of the church (in persona ecclesiae). ⁸² After Trent, the Jesuit theologian Gabriel Vasquez adopted the position of Cajetan. ⁸³

The Reformation, Trent, and After

At this point we can turn to the sixteenth-century reformers and their criticism of the late medieval theology of the fruits of the Mass, to the Catholic response at the Council of Trent, and to the reflection of some Catholic theologians after Trent up to the early twentieth century.

Martin Luther’s disputation on indulgences, the Ninety-Five Theses of 1517, was part and parcel of an entire theological program that called the whole medieval understanding of penance into question. For Luther penance meant not so much doing something to receive the forgiveness of sins as it did the faith that led to conversion, which means accepting the forgiveness of sins. The whole edifice of the penitential system needed to be de-constructed. Within that edifice, the medieval understanding of the fruits of the Mass and thus Mass intentions (and stipends) was essential and thus intimately related to Luther’s project.

There are two main places where Luther launches this attack on the fruits of the Mass. The first is a 1520 piece entitled “A Treatise on the New Testament, that is, the Holy Mass” and the second, his better known, “The Babylonian Captivity of the Church” (also 1520 and slightly later). Luther’s main point in both of these is that the Mass is a testament or a proclamation of the gospel of the forgiveness of sins and not a good work that humans use to placate God. The one benefit (fruit) of the Mass is accepting the forgiveness of sins, which comes from Christ’s promise. ⁸⁴ Thus, what counts in receiving the fruits of the Mass is the faith of the individual and not the action of the priest, since all offer the sacrifice in concert with Christ. ⁸⁵ Since Luther rejects the idea of the Mass as a good work, he also denies that it is a work of satisfaction. ⁸⁶ He adds that one cannot offer the Mass for another anymore than one can be baptized for another. ⁸⁷ Furthermore, the priests and monasteries have taken the offerings of the faithful for themselves instead of distributing them to the needy, as was the original intention behind the practice of bringing offerings to the Eucharist. ⁸⁸

Luther was not alone in criticizing votive (“private”) Masses and the limitation on the fruits of the Mass to specific persons. John Calvin, for one, made a similar criticism, especially with regard to the sale of Masses and the idea that they could be directed to particular intentions. ⁸⁹

The Catholic response to the Reformation critique came in the “Decree and Canons on the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass” of the Twenty-second session of the Council of Trent in 1562. As with many of their doctrinal statements, the council fathers were careful not to take sides in theological disputes but rather remained content to define what they considered the minimum necessary to combat the criticisms of the Reformers. Hence the decree affirms that the eucharistic sacrifice is “truly propitiatory” (vere propitiatorium) but without going into detail as to what “propitiatory” means or how that is applied in the Mass. The decree goes on the state that the Lord is “appeased” (placatus) by the eucharistic sacrifice. With regard to the fruits of the Mass, the Council affirms rather laconically: “The fruits of this oblation (the bloody one, that is) are received in abundance through this unbloody (oblation). By no means, then, does the latter detract from the former [can. 4]. Therefore, it is rightly offered according to apostolic tradition, not only for the sins, punishments, satisfaction, and other necessities of the faithful who are alive, but also for those who have died in Christ but are not wholly purified [can. 3].” ⁹⁰

The council issued reform decrees as well as doctrinal ones. In the same session, it promulgated a decree on things to be observed and avoided in celebrating Mass. These included several items relevant to our study. ⁹¹ After several drafts which named even more abuses with regard to stipends in general and votive Masses, the final decree decried greed among priests in demanding requests for alms or “every element of trade” as well as the superstition of arranging for a fixed number of Masses or candles on the altar. ⁹²

As we have noted, the Council did not attempt to resolve disputes among Catholic theologians with regard to the nature of Eucharistic sacrifice or the effects of the Mass beyond affirming that it is legitimate to offer Mass for the living and the dead and that it is a propitiatory sacrifice. This debate was left up to post-Tridentine theologians, like the Jesuits Francisco Suarez and Juan de Lugo who supported what had become the commonplace division of the fruits of the Mass and, therefore, the limitation of intentions in the mode of Scotus. ⁹³

There was some negative reaction to the practice of Mass intentions in the eighteenth-century Catholic Enlightenment and especially the Synod of Pistoia (1786). That will figure in the subsequent article. At this point, however, we can move very briefly to the neo-Scholastic theology of the fruits of the Mass at the beginning of the twentieth century. This theology is ably summed up in the classic textbook of Joseph Pohle. Pohle regarded the following issues as settled Catholic teaching:

The Mass as such has an intrinsically infinite value because it is the act of Christ. The Mass is both propitiatory (appealing to God’s goodness) and impetratory (appealing to God’s mercy). That the Mass remits venial sins and the temporal punishment due to sin for the living and the dead. The fruits of the Mass can be divided into three categories as in the theology of Scotus. Active participants in the Mass (priest and people attending) benefit according to their disposition (devotion). That it belongs to the priest alone to apply the intention of the Mass. ⁹⁴

With regard to the question of whether a greater or lesser number of individuals can benefit from an intention being applied at a particular Mass, Pohle finds that the minority held that plural intentions are of equal value while the “overwhelming majority” held the opposite position; in other words, to use our terminology, the question of Mass intentions is a matter of dividing up a pie.

The present article has laid the historical groundwork for a more systematic treatment of the issue of Mass intentions. We have seen that a number of factors coalesced in the High Middle Ages to produce a practice and understanding of Mass intentions which has lasted, at least on a pastoral level, until today. A subsequent article will pick up this question with some significant twentieth-century Roman Catholic theologians and attempt some conclusions and suggestions in light of their work as well as the implications of the post-Vatican II liturgical reform.