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By the 11th century, however, this special devotional attachment to the Passion began to spread beyond the cloister, as a new emphasis on affective (emotional) spirituality spread in the church. John of Fécamp (d. 1078), for example, begged Jesus to grant his desire that, because of the blood he shed, John's eyes would flood with tears, his heart being made contrite. Anselm of Canterbury (d. 1109) asked Christ to forgive him "for not having kissed the place of the wounds where the nails pierced, for not having sprinkled with tears of joy the scars."

Soon a new atonement theology came on the scene, one fit for the new emotional piety. Its author was Peter Abelard (d. 1142/43), who stressed that the Crucifixion provides not satisfaction for wrongs committed (as had Anselm) but rather the supreme example of Christ's love and forgiveness. Abelard wanted to foster in the unbeliever emotions of horror and godly sorrow when confronted by this death.

The 12th century's focus on affective devotion found its most important promoter in Bernard of Clairvaux (d. 1153). But the most vivid example of Passion-centered piety was still to come. This was Francis of Assisi, whose all-consuming imitation of Christ seemed rewarded on September 17, 1224, in the hermitage on Mt. Alverno, when he is said to have received the gift of Christ's wounds in his own flesh—the stigmata.

Francis's disciples in the next two hundred years brought the humanity and sufferings of Christ into the mainstream of devotion. From portable outdoor pulpits and within chapels whose walls were often covered with life-sized Passion scenes, the preaching friars stressed as never before the emotions of Jesus during his ordeal—and the answering emotions of the worshiper.

They also championed an ascetic approach that sought to follow Paul, who said, "In my flesh I am completing what is lacking in Christ's afflictions for the sake of the church" (Col. 1:24). In the late-medieval heyday of Passion piety that followed, many monks, nuns, and layfolk tried in various ways to imitate Jesus' passion or to experience something of the same extreme suffering as had their Lord.

At the same time, the laity picked up another spiritual practice that had once been the preserve of the monastics: the regular discipline of private prayer. The wealthy commissioned beautiful Books of Hours and other aids to help them meditate on the Crucifixion.

According to medievalist Richard Kieckhefer, 14th-century Passion literature was supposed to evoke four primary reactions: gratitude, penance, compassion, and imitation. But these did not appear simply or discretely. Rather, terror, awe, sorrow, and joy might mix in one experience. At the center of all this emotion was the single goal that every believer sought; in the words of Kieckhefer, "a sense of profound contact with the deity that was joined with [Christ's] humanity."

Christians throughout the period from Bernard through Loyola wrote and read increasingly elaborate accounts of the Passion events. The man whose exegetical work opened the floodgates to these newly detailed narratives was Rupert of Deutz (d. 1129). A Belgian who died an abbot in Germany, Rupert mined not only the gospel accounts and a number of apocryphal accounts—all of which had been used before his time to tell the story of the Passion—but also a host of obscure passages in the Old Testament.

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March 2004, Vol. 48, No. 3