Inscribing Devotion between the Medieval and the Modern
In September 1918, the Chaplains’ Aid Association (CAA) received a $100 check from Mr. Henry Esser of Washington, D.C., to sponsor a chaplain’s portable Mass kit. Accompanying the check was a letter noting that the donor wished the kit’s chalice to be engraved with the phrase “for the intentions of the Esser family” before the CAA sent the equipment to a priest in the U.S. Army. The CAA promptly replied, stating that “the chalice is being inscribed as directed,” and promising to send Esser the name of the chaplain who received the kit.
Henry Esser, a widower and German immigrant in his 50s, was one of many Catholic donors who purchased a portable Mass kit through the CAA for a US Army chaplain during World War I. As the August 1917 issue of the Catholic Bulletin explains, the CAA packaged “everything necessary for the celebration of Holy Mass,” including an altar stone, chalice, paten, altar linen, vestments, and crucifix into the kit, having purchased the items from wholesalers with money donated by Catholic citizens like Esser. Esser’s request for the chalice inscription demonstrates that the chaplain’s kit provided not just for the spiritual wellbeing of soldiers in the trenches, but also memorialized the donors, ensuring their remembrance in the prayers of the priests abroad. By inscribing names onto the chalice, the CAA connected donors, users, and the divine through the chaplain’s portable Mass kit.
Esser was not alone in his desire to inscribe his name on his donation. In June 1918, Mary C. Pefferman instructed the CAA to engrave her name on the chalice in the kit provided to Chaplain William McVeigh, and in January 1918 the CAA sent a chaplain’s kit with a chalice engraved “Annie Dacey McCormack” to Monsignor M.J. Splaine for distribution to a priest. The CAA actively encouraged this practice, writing in its bulletin in September 1917, “When an entire outfit is given by an individual, the name of the donor is engraved on the chalice that the priest may be able to remember him by name at the altar of God. Several have been so given as memorials of beloved dead.”
Inscriptions on portable devotional objects is nothing new. The practice of providing devotional objects—and literally inscribing the personal onto the liturgical—has precedents from the medieval past. The donor’s identity was often tied to their devotional object through inscriptions, which fixed the object in a specific moment and with a specific purpose. The great bronze doors on the Church of St. Michael in Hildesheim have such an inscription at their midpoint, stating: “In the year of the incarnation of the Lord 1015, Bishop Bernward (richly remembered) cast these doors he made for the façade of the temple of the angel to hang in his memory.”
Medieval portable altars created in German lands often featured the name of their patron, so donors could solicit prayers and gain recognition for the wealth they gave. Portable altar inscriptions reveal varying levels of donor oversight in the creation and donation of the item. For example, a few state that a donor “ordered this made” (fieri iussit) or “ordered me made” (me iussit fieri). More often, portable altar inscriptions from medieval Saxony highlight the act of giving (dedit) the altar.
Through inscription on the object itself, the donor’s act was permanently connected to the item even after their separation due to distance or death. For example, around 1045 CE, Countess Gertrude I of Eguisheim commissioned two reliquary crosses and a portable altar for the Church of St. Blasius in Brunswick. The three objects, now in the Cleveland Museum of Art, are made of sumptuous materials and contain the relics of several saints. Inscriptions running along the top of the altar and the reverse of the two crosses identify Gertrude as the patron and indicate the donations’ purpose. The top of the altar states, in Latin, “Gertrude offers to Christ this stone that shines with gems and gold [in order] to live joyfully in Him.” The two crosses have inscriptions that list the relics they enshrine, noting also that “[t]his was commissioned by Gertrude for the soul of Count Liudolf” and “Countess Gertrude had this made.” Gertrude intended the altar to glorify Christ and benefit her soul, while the crosses were given in exchange for prayers for her deceased husband.
In medieval Europe, donations to ecclesiastical institutions rested on much broader practices of gift-giving, creating a relationship of reciprocity between the donor and the recipient. As the church historian Arnold Angenendt has pointed out, most medieval charters that detail such gifts to a church include phrases such as “for my soul,” indicating the expected counter-gift for the donation: prayers for the donor’s eternal salvation. Ecclesiastical institutions usually reciprocated gifts by saying the donor’s name aloud during the Mass and calling upon the audience to pray for the donor’s soul. Many donations required ongoing spiritual benefits for a single donation through liturgical commemoration with special Masses on the anniversary of the gift, even after the donor’s death. An early eighth-century charter from the diocese of Utrecht explicitly states that the donor presented land to the archbishop: “I give [this] and want it to be given forever for the annual celebration of prayer and masses [for me].” The charter indicates that the gift will be perhennis (forever); there is no expiration date or expectation for return of the land even after the donor’s death. Repeated performance of a commemorative Mass for a donation ensured the ongoing preservation of the donor’s memory.
Just as an engraved name solicited prayers in the Middle Ages, an inscription on the chalice in a WWI chaplain’s kit prompted the receiving priest to connect personally with the donor. In a 1917 letter to the CAA, published in the Chaplains’ Aid Association Bulletin in October 1917, Chaplain Travers W. Walsh stated, “I would be greatly obliged if you would send me the name of the donor in order that I may make personal acknowledgment. (The chalice is engraved ‘In memory of E.L. Redmond.’).” One chaplain wrote to the CAA with the assurance, “I and my boys do not forget you and the kind donor of this splendidly practical Mass kit,” while another recalled, “I used the chalice, however, this morning, and was mindful before the Lord of the donors. God bless them one and all.” Similarly, Henry Esser probably intended for himself and his family, including his deceased wife and his daughter, to benefit from the prayers of his kit’s chaplain.
The donation of portable Mass kits was a way for non-combatants to participate in the war effort in a way that is uniquely tied to religious material culture. There are myriad parallels between a medieval portable altar, hand-crafted with specific guidelines and carried by a missionary or crusading priest to distant lands, and the modern chaplains’ kit. In particular, portable devotional objects used for the celebration of Mass provided an opportunity for personal devotion and connection through personalized inscriptions. Although probably unaware of the medieval precedent, American Catholics in World War I conceived of devotional objects in similar ways—as spiritually essential, physical items that connected donors, users, and the divine. The continuity of thought about portable devotional objects across centuries provides an intriguing lens into the unifying nature of Catholic material culture between the medieval and modern periods. Although Catholic doctrine has developed and items used for the Mass are made by modern methods of manufacturing, the need for portable devotional items, personalized to the individual, is still central to the Mass. These inscriptions allow for prayers and remembrance to continue, creating a community of Catholic believers that transcends the local and extends it across time, linking together not just the medieval past to the years of the first World War, but to our own day as well.
Dr. Sarah Luginbill is an adjunct professor in San Antonio, Texas, teaching History, Women & Gender Studies, and Writing. Her current book project examines portable devotional objects used by Catholic chaplains in World War I and II.