Prompted by Michel Foucault's observation that “salvation is first of all essentially subsistence,” this essay explores Gregory of Nyssa's discussion of Christian spiritual formation as a kind of salvific and transformative feeding of infants. This article argues that the prominent role of nourishment—and specifically breast milk—in Gregory's theory of progressive Christian perfection reflects broader Roman era family values concerning the power of breast feeding in the proper development of a child. With particular attention to Gregory's Encomium for Saint Basil, the Life of Moses, and his Homilies on the Song of Songs, this article demonstrates that references to the power of nourishment are no “mere metaphor” but rather represent an intensification of the prominent belief in antiquity that human nature can be altered according to the food a person eats. As such, Gregory employs the female body and its putatively maternal function as a regulatory symbol for Christian identity-formation. Mother's milk is thus offered as a mechanism for preserving and transmitting the ideal form of the Christian community that Gregory found embodied in the ambiguously gendered characters of the Song of Songs. True Christians, in Gregory's account, are identified by the milk on which they were fed and, in turn, the nurturing care they offer to others.

Modern church historians have roundly accepted the ancient pedigree of imperial regalia privileges exercised by the archbishops of Cyprus, yet new research has shown that their origins are actually to be found in the mid-sixteenth century and within a decidedly western intellectual and ecclesial orbit. This article builds on such findings by documenting the modern history of these privileges and their relationship to the emerging political role of the archbishops of Cyprus as ethnarchs as well as archbishops of the Cypriot community under both Ottoman and British empires. Travelling across the boundaries of western and non-western cultures and employing a rich interdisciplinary array of evidence (chronicles, liturgy and liturgical vestments, hagiography, iconography, insignia, painting, cartography, diplomacy, and travel literature), this article presents a coherent reconstruction of the imperial regalia tradition's modern historical evolution and its profound impact on modern Cypriot church history. This study integrates the often compartmentalized English, French, Italian, German, and Greek scholarship of many subfields, producing a new holistic understanding of how the archbishop's ethnarchic aspirations could produce a spiritual culture in which St. Barnabas, the island's founding patron saint and once famous apostolic reconciler, became transformed into an ethnarchic national patriot and defender against foreign conquerors.

In modern scholarship, Pope Gregory I “the Great” (590–604) is often simultaneously considered the final scion of classical Rome and the first medieval pope. The letania septiformis, a procession organized into seven groups that Gregory instituted in 590 in the face of plague and disease (and performed only once thereafter in 603), has similarly been construed as the very moment when Antiquity died and the Middle Ages were born. However, his Roman contemporaries in the papal curia largely ignored Gregory and his purportedly epochal procession. In fact, memory of the procession languished in Italy until the late-eighth century when Paul the Deacon made it the center of his Life of Gregory. At Rome, remembrance of the procession lay dormant in the papal archives until John the Deacon dug it out in the late-ninth century. How then did the letania septiformis come to be judged so pivotal? Over the course of centuries, the letania septiformis was inventively re-elaborated in literature, liturgy, and legend as part of the re-fashioning of the memory of Gregory. Shorn of its context, the letania septiformis gained greater imaginative power, becoming the emblem of Gregory's pontificate, if not also of an historical era.

The Carolingian period, roughly the eighth and ninth centuries, was dynamic and decisive in European religious history. The ruling dynasty and the clerical elite promoted wave after wave of reform that I call “unifying,” “specifying,” and “sanctifying.” This presidential address argues that religion was the key unifying and universalizing force in the Carolingian world; that the Carolingians were obsessed with doing things the right way—usually the Roman way; and that the Carolingians sought to inculcate Christian behavior more than religious knowledge. The address concludes by arguing that the Carolingians put a markedly European stamp on Christianity and that they Romanized Christianity well before the papacy attempted to do so.

Over the course of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, Christian thinkers turned rhetorically to the biblical servant Hagar (Genesis 16 and 21) to establish, or at least support, specific policies restricting Jewish interaction with Christians. Referencing St. Paul's allegorical interpretation of Abraham, Sarah, and her servant Hagar in his Epistle to the Galatians, they transformed a longstanding association of Hagar with the old law, synagogue, or a vague Jewish “other” into a figure representative of Jews living in their midst. The centrality of St. Paul's allegory in western Christian liturgical and exegetical traditions made it a useful framework for thinking about contemporary Christian-Jewish relations. This article is a consideration of the intertwining of biblical typology and history; an examination of the way one particularly rich typological reading came to give meaning to relationships between real Christians and Jews in medieval Europe. A proliferation of Hagar imagery in word and image offered a structure for thinking about Jewish policies in a way that moved beyond Augustine's insistence on toleration. The association of living Jews with the haughty, disrespectful, ungrateful servant sent away by Abraham provided an effective support for increasingly harsh treatment of Jews in Christian society.

Two of the most famous Catholic histories written during the early modern period were the Annales ecclesiastici of Caesar Baronius (d. 1607), a year-by-year chronicle of the Catholic Church from the birth of Christ to the twelfth century, and the Istoria del concilio tridentino of Paolo Sarpi (d. 1623), a scathing critique of the Council of Trent that argued the famous council had only made religious problems worse. Rather than comparing either of these works with similar histories written by protestants—thereby investigating inter-confessional Reformation debates—this article sets Baronius's Annales and Sarpi's Istoria side by side to explore disputes within Catholicism itself. By analyzing how the authors examine four topics in their histories (Peter and the papal primacy, the relationship between the local and universal church, the history of ecumenical councils, and the relationship between secular and ecclesiastical authorities), as well as considering both historians' actions during the Venetian interdict crisis of 1606, this essay argues that Sarpi and Baronius fundamentally disagreed about the origins and exercise of both secular and ecclesiastical authority. These two modes of Catholic history-writing reveal how Sarpi and Baronius drew from contemporary political models, such that “ecclesiastical history” could have significant political ramifications.

This article examines the biography of a twelfth-century English holy woman, the Life of Christina of Markyate—particularly its account of a vision that she had in which she was crowned in the likeness of a bishop's miter—within the context of campaigns undertaken by English monasteries in the late eleventh and twelfth centuries to obtain the papal privilege of full exemption from the sacramental and juridical control of their diocesan bishop. Reading Christina's vision in view of the bids for independence made by St. Albans—the community responsible for commissioning and writing her biography—especially helps to shed light on why the Life seems to figure her in a distinctly episcopal cast. Significantly, the Life's account of this vision may have been shaped by a miniature cycle of the passion and miracles of St. Edmund, produced by Bury circa 1125, seemingly in an effort to provide further confirmation of the abbey's exempt status. In a miniature depicting Edmund's apotheosis, the saint divinely receives a miter-like crown, which is nearly identical in its ornamentation to the one that Christina would later receive. Ultimately under investigation in this article is whether St. Albans' campaign for exemption was one of the influences dictating the composition of the Life of Christina.

This article examines early protestant efforts to confront the belief that souls in purgatory appeared to or haunted the living. It demonstrates that a series of Articles on the Conjuration of the Wandering Dead (1521 or 1522) long attributed to Andreas Bodenstein von Karlstadt were actually written by Martin Luther or a close disciple. More importantly, it shows that these Articles participated in an extended effort by Luther to realize the doctrinal foci of the Reformation in the daily lives of believers as they encountered apparitions and poltergeists, worried about lost loved ones, and faced their own deaths. Luther aimed, in particular, to discipline Christians’ senses of hearing and sight. Relating inward and outward senses, and explaining the apparent wandering dead as demons in disguise, Luther counseled Christians to hear the Word rather than the dead, to see Christ rather than the devil. Karlstadt also sought to realize doctrinal concentration, but in a manner shaped by his conception of faith as knowledge. Addressing anxiety about those who died before the Reformation, Karlstadt explained the wandering spirits as ignorant souls, destined for salvation but still needing to learn the right way. These wanderers spurred the living to diligent study of God's will.

In the mid-1600s, the Jesuit Antonio Ruiz de Montoya reported that man-eating jaguars were helping to convert Guaraní Indians to Catholicism. This article tests his claim by aggregating multiple mentions of jaguars found in the accounts and letters of Jesuit missionaries in the reductions of Paraguay and the Moxos from the seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries, including the writing of Jesuits Antonio Ruiz de Montoya, François-Xavier Eder, Alonso Messia, and Martín Dobrizhoffer. Cumulatively, their predator sightings and references suggest that, indeed, the actions of real jaguars were transforming local religious beliefs. The presence of jaguars in Jesuit records also reveals the complexity of missionary and indigenous attitudes towards animals. Jesuits often associated jaguars with pre-Christian jaguar-shaman rituals, but also considered them to be divine instruments. Indigenous peoples sometimes preserved older practices, but also occasionally took real jaguars as an impetus to convert to Christianity. Both Jesuits and indigenous peoples reacted to jaguar incursions with violence as well as spiritual reflection. Most importantly, the prominence of active jaguars on this contested religious frontier suggests that animals should be viewed as more than symbols in Christian history. Jesuit records indicate that jaguars were key third players in zones where Europeans and indigenous populations met.

The renewed interest in John Wyclif (d. 1384) has brought this late medieval figure back into the spotlight of historians, giving rise to numerous studies evaluating his thought and its implications in the context of late fourteenth century England. However, it is not possible fully to appreciate Wyclif's importance in late medieval European culture without understanding the legacy of his ideas on the continent. According to the accepted narrative, John Wyclif's thought was mediated to the continent through the scholarly contacts between the universities in Oxford and in Prague, and re-emerged in the Latin writings of Jan Hus. This article argues that John Wyclif's thought, especially his critique of the church's doctrine of transubstantiation, found a larger audience among the rural clerics and laity in Bohemia, whom it reached through Peter Payne, who simplified and disseminated the works of the Oxford master. Wyclif's critique of transubstantiation sparked a nationwide debate about the nature of the Eucharist, generating numerous treatises, both in Latin and in the vernacular, on the subject of Christ's presence in the sacrament of the mass. This debate anticipated, a full century earlier, the famous debate between Luther and Zwingli and the Eucharistic debates of the sixteenth century Reformation more generally. The proliferation of vernacular Eucharistic tractates in Bohemia shows that Wyclif's critique of transubstantiation could be answered in a number of different ways that included both real presence (however defined) and figurative theologies—a fact, which, in turn, explains the doctrinal diversity among the Lollards in England.

Religious controversy swept across England during the revolutionary decades of the 1640s and 1650s. Historians have studied the attendant ecclesiological debates meticulously. The piety as practiced by the puritans has also been carefully examined. Yet generally, these two subjects of ecclesiology and piety have been kept as separate compartments of analysis. The plethora of tracts that rolled off the press during the initial years of the 1640s, nevertheless, shows that many contemporary polemicists were keen to tie the two themes together. The Presbyterian and Independent polemicists were no exception. As this article seeks to demonstrate, a common feature of their publications was the belief that their preferred ecclesiastical polity best served the purpose of promoting individual piety and creating a godly society. Thus the Presbyterian and Independent conflict waged not only over issues of ecclesiology proper such as categories of church offices and of governing councils or composition of church membership to which historians have directed their attention hitherto, but also over questions of how ecclesiology affected piety. Such conflict was a reflection of the commitment of Presbyterians and Independents to their respective vision of reformation for the country. More broadly, this article shows a facet of religious controversy that ultimately led to the disintegration of the godly community and weakened the base of support for the Commonwealth and the Protectorate.

The pious layman Robert Nelson's 1704 tract A Companion for the Festivals and Fasts of the Church of England was arguably the most popular and important Anglican devotional work of the eighteenth century. Ostensibly a simple guidebook to the Anglican liturgical calendar, Nelson's Festivals and Fasts was, in fact, a précis of Anglican theology and ecclesiology. What has been less clearly recognized, however, was the extent to which Nelson's Festivals and Fasts was also a sharply polemical work. This article considers Nelson's tract as a defense of “the sacred” as demarcating a socially and cognitively distinct sphere of life. Nelson's work takes great pains to maintain the spaces, offices, festivals and personnel of the church as “set apart” from the commerce of everyday life; and nearly every page exudes a fear of encroachment on the sacred. Nelson's conception of the sacred, and the manifold threats to its differentiation, provokes a reconsideration of the prevalent narratives of religious transformation in the early English enlightenment. Most importantly, it underscores the serious limitations of the current debate over secularization in this period.

Centered on understudied manuscript sources located in the Archive of the Francke Foundations, this essay argues that defenses of slavery among eighteenth-century protestants developed from a longstanding tradition of providential thought and narration. This tradition of providential thought and narration was informed by protestants’ transatlantic missionary efforts. Far from encouraging human passivity, faith in God's providential direction motivated protestants to wide-ranging evangelistic endeavors. By focusing on the correspondence and writings of George Whitefield, August Hermann Francke, Gotthilf August Francke, and several missionary Pietists in the colony of Georgia, the essay shows how eighteenth-century protestants confirmed God's providential oversight through the practice of retrospective reflection in their writings and publications. The providential pulse of these writings was integral to knitting together a transatlantic community of protestants in their evangelical zeal and encouraging them to new efforts. Whitefield and the Pietists continued to rely on this providential faith and narrative style as they interpreted their acceptance of slavery in terms of God's direction over the success of their missions, the decisions of temporal authorities, and the conversion of slaves to Christianity.

Though a Catholic country, Italy has been distinguished by the presence of a deeply-rooted Socialist Party. At the beginning of the twentieth century, encouraged by the economic and social changes taking place as well as by a new and growing awareness, a number of Catholics decided to open up to a dialogue with the socialist world. Some, such as Don Murri, identified Turati's party as a possible political interlocutor, in the conviction that the programmes of the democratic Catholics and those of the left had many elements in common. Others sensitive to modernist issues, particularly in intellectual circles, believed that Christianity at its origins and the early forms of socialism shared the same basic identity. Thus some scholars (including Father Ernesto Buonaiuti) chose to focus on the origins of the church, convinced that examples could be found there of how the world could be changed according to Christian ethics. The response of left-wing culture to these ideas was varied. Some, such as Camillo Prampolini, an exponent of “evangelical socialism,” appeared to be interested in a dialogue, like those socialists who were ready to accept idealist inspiration. The party leadership, instead, barred any suggestion of debate, convinced that Marxism was an alternative to Christianity.

After setting forth a wider context of the role of prophecy for German medieval women, the dual medieval tradition of prophecy as visionary and as interpretation of scripture, and the protestant emphasis on prophecy as interpretation of scripture, this essay demonstrates that Argula von Grumbach, Katharina Schütz Zell, and Marie Dentière not only echoed the appeals to the priesthood of all believers made by contemporary male reformers, they also embraced the teachings of these same male reformers that viewed prophecy as interpretation of scripture. In this way, prophecy became a significant lens by which Argula von Grumbach, Katharina Schütz Zell, and Marie Dentière conceived of themselves and their ministries—an understanding often lacking in the secondary sources that study these women. Specifically, it will be shown that each of these women employed Old Testament prophecy in ways that parallel contemporary male reformers' use of prophecy: presenting herself as speaking God's Word and not her own, locating her ministry within a larger biblical prophetic tradition, interpreting contemporary situations in the light of biblical prophecy and to distinguish between true and false prophets. The article concludes by exploring whether the male reformers actually intended this application of their teachings for women and exploring what is distinctive in these women's views and uses of prophecy.

By the mid-seventeenth century, radical protestant tolerationists in Britain and the British Atlantic began to conceive of religious liberty as a civil liberty applicable to all subjects, in contrast to contemporary puritans who limited toleration to orthodox protestants. This essay seeks to explain why certain puritans, however small in number, came to adopt radical views on toleration in contrast to the religious mainstream in the Anglophone world. Drawing upon a longer history of ecclesiastical independence than considered in the existing scholarship on religious toleration, it identifies a hitherto unexplored relationship between ecclesiastical independence in England and the Atlantic World.

This article examines how religious controversy affected antebellum Kentucky's legal culture and helped construct the relationship between church and state. It incorporates legal theory to broaden conceptions of law and argues that Baptist churches served as important legal sites for their communities. More than simply punishing moral transgressions, churches litigated disputes that under common law and within county courts would be considered criminal or civil law. By acknowledging that individuals produced law outside of state institutions, the article illuminates a more complex and fluid trans-Appalachian legal culture, one in which church members and non-members alike possessed a capacious vision of law. During the late 1820s and 1830s, Kentucky Baptists faced years of discord emanating from Alexander Campbell's “Reformation.” Amidst a religious backdrop of doctrinal controversy and schism, afflicted churches witnessed a decline of disciplinary activities as individuals' ceased to envision their churches as sites for neutral dispute resolution. The failure of church courts to contain internal dissension and curtail schism led to contentious court battles over rights to local meetinghouses. As judges reviewed church disciplinary records and litigants debated religious doctrine at the courthouse, these church property disputes highlight the process of redefining church-state relations in the post-establishment era.

Studies concerned with modernity, mission Christianity, and sexuality generally address how western, Christian gender ideologies have affected women or how they have affected modernization. This article approaches the nexus of modernity, Christianity, and sexuality from a different angle. One of the notable consequences of modernization was that young people in industrializing nations began demanding the right to choose their own spouse and marry for love. Several scholars have noted the connection between modernization and spouse self-selection, but none have explored the relationship between Christianity's endorsement of spouse self-selection and its global appeal during the mid-twentieth century. This article examines a collection of letters written by young Africans to missionary Walter Trobisch after reading his popular 1962 book, I Loved a Girl. These letters suggest that Christianity's endorsement of spouse self-selection and marrying for love gave it a kind of modern appeal for young people who were eagerly adopting the modern values of individualism and self-fulfillment. The practice of prayer provided relief to young people who were struggling to navigate the unfamiliar realm of dating in the modern world.

During World War I, American political, military, and religious leaders sought to foster the view that protestants, Catholics, and Jews were equal stakeholders in society. Crucial in shaping the embrace of this “tri-faith” ideal were leading members of all three traditions, who used their connections to the federal government to ensure that many facets of national life reflected this new conception of the nation's religious character. The military chaplaincy put these ideals into practice, and interfaith activity became commonplace in the army. Protestant, Catholic, and Jewish chaplains worked closely together, and provided pastoral care or offered religious rites to wounded and dying soldiers from different faith traditions. This article examines how the wartime break from political and social normality, the desire to project a particular image of the nation abroad, and Americans' firsthand encounter with religion in Europe all contributed to idealizations of the inclusive nature of American civil religion during World War I. Yet, as this essay demonstrates, the transitional nature of wartime culture and the strong role of the federal government in fostering these values prevented this outlook from firmly taking root. The experience did, however, provide a critical precedent for subsequent idealizations of a protestant-Catholic-Jewish nation.

At the 2015 Winter Meeting of the American Society of Church History, the panel “Futures of the American Religious Past” examined two of the most provocative and influential recent analyses of antebellum American protestantism—Mark A. Noll's America's God and John Lardas Modern's Secularism in Antebellum America. In one sense, the pairing is odd. The two books appear drastically different, stylistically and methodologically. Modern's highly original monograph constructs a genealogy of antebellum American secularism, illuminating ways in which this cultural force haunted the historicity of American protestantism. His analysis interweaves the theoretical and discursive approaches of cultural studies and religious studies. Noll's book, on the other hand, constructs a more traditional, though deeply creative, history of protestant religious ideas, attentive to the agency of individual thinkers and institutions. Both books are brilliant, yet they exist at two opposite disciplinary poles in the study of American religions. Their juxtaposition embodies what Laurie Maffly-Kipp in her 2013 American Society of Church History Presidential Address called our “transitional moment” in American religious history, as theoretical developments of religious studies confront traditional church history paradigms.