LUDOLPH of SAXONY. The Life of Jesus Christ: Part One – Volume 1, Chapters 1-40, translated and introduced by Milton T. Walsh. Cistercian Studies vol. 267. Collegeville, MN: Cistercian Publications, 2018. Pp. xlvii + 781. $79.95 cloth. ISBN 978-0-87907-267-6. Reviewed by Patrick F. O’CONNELL, Gannon University, Erie, PA 16541.

The Vita Christi of Ludolph of Saxony (or Ludolph the Carthusian as he is perhaps better known) may be most familiar as one of the two books (the other being the Legenda Aurea of Jacques de Voragine) read by Ignatius of Loyola as he was recovering from his wounds sustained at the siege of Pamplona, books that played a crucial role in his conversion. One might wonder how much of this massive fourteenth-century compendium of meditations on the gospels, the culmination of a developing tradition dating back at least to the twelfth century, Ignatius actually managed to read during his convalescence. Consisting of two parts, the first including a prologue and 92 chapters, the second, beginning with Peter’s confession of faith in Jesus as Messiah and having 88 chapters plus a conclusion, the work contrasts strikingly with the spare notations of points for meditation that constitute the bulk of the material in Ignatius’ own Spiritual Exercises, which was deeply indebted to Ludolph’s work. 

Now Milton T. Walsh has dedicated himself to the arduous labor not only of making the first complete English translation of this influential work but of providing a thorough set of marginal annotations (along with frequent explanatory notes), identifying all its known sources, those explicitly cited (correcting the erroneous ascriptions of numerous works current at the time Ludolph wrote) and the many unattributed borrowings, particularly from earlier works in this genre. He has also written a succinct but thorough introduction (xxiii-xlv), incorporating the few facts known about the life of its author, a one-time Dominican who transferred to the Carthusians in 1340 and died in 1378; a survey of the development of the “Life of Christ” genre, not biography but series of detailed reflections on the story of Jesus found in the Gospels (harmonized to create a coherent sequence from the different versions) intended to lead the reader to a response of personal commitment to Christ through vividly concrete depictions of gospel scenes and expansive commentary on successive passages; an overview of the structure and the sources of Ludolph’s Vita; his own principles of translation; and a brief conclusion emphasizing both the historical value of the work in providing a perspective on late-medieval Christian sensibility and spirituality, and its perennial worth as a prophetic, sapiential and mystagogical treatise, challenging readers with its insights into the mystery of Christ, a message that “transcends the historical, exegetical ambience of the past to speak directly to the heart” (xlv). This first of four volumes includes in its 781 pages of text the first forty chapters of part 1, from the Johannine prologue on the eternal generation of the Word through the call of the first disciples and the Sermon on the Mount. There is much more to come!

 In his prologue (3-25), Ludolph provides an overview of the approach he will be using throughout his Vita, drawing (second-hand, through the little-known and never cited Vita Christi of his predecessor Michael de Massa [d. 1337]) on three major sources – none of them named but all identified and described by Walsh. From the De Contemplatione of his thirteenth-century Carthusian forefather Guigo de Ponte came the idea of meditation leading to contemplation; from the widely read Meditationes Vitae Christi, attributed to St. Bonaventure but written by a fellow Franciscan, John de Caulibus, an emphasis on the use of the senses to draw the reader into a vivid imaginative participation in Gospel scenes; and from the De Exterioris et Interioris Hominis of David of Augsburg, a focus on the moral application of each passage being considered to the reader’s own life.

Ludolph’s typical procedure in each of his chapters is to begin with a (usually expanded) citation of a Gospel passage, further developed by a discursive explanation of its meaning, usually reinforced by lengthy quotations from patristic and medieval sources and often including lists of specific points to be drawn from the story (e.g. ten reasons for Christ’s circumcision in chapter 10 [197-98]; sixteen reasons for choosing twelve apostles in chapter 32 [598-99]); at times readers will be encouraged to picture the scene in their minds as concretely as possible so that it becomes “real” enough to engage their thoughts and feelings; when appropriate the events being described are related to analogous Old Testament stories to illuminate the ethical and spiritual significance of both for the readers’ own lives (e.g. prefigurations of the Magi in chapter 11 [221-22]; baptismal typology in chapter 21 [439]); this emphasis on the moral lessons to be recognized and put into practice is a major focus in each of the chapters, which then conclude with a brief prayer responding to what has been learned. Thus the successive reflections draw, though not in any rigidly systematic way, on the traditional medieval understanding of the various meanings of scripture, which Ludolph explicitly mentions in his discussion of the wedding feast at Cana in chapter 25: “Note that the wedding has four meanings according to the four senses of Scripture: literally, it refers to the conjugal union of man and woman; allegorically, to the divine incarnation; tropologically, to the spiritual nuptials of the soul; anagogically, to the fruition of beatitude” (515). His general procedure is simply to incorporate whichever of these levels may be most relevant to a particular passage, with the moral or tropological meaning being most prominent. He also implicitly utilizes the progression from lectio – receptive reading; to meditatio – reflective consideration of the meaning and personal application of a passage; to oratio – the colloquy with the Lord (or occasionally a saint, as with Mary in chapters 2 and 3 [54, 65] and John the Baptist in chapters 4 and 17 [75-76, 355]) that concludes each chapter; the final stage, contemplatio – mystical union with God beyond thought and feeling – is not generally considered directly.

 Ludolph frequently incorporates large swaths of material from his predecessors without attribution. Thus his presentation of the allegory of the “Four Daughters of God” in chapter 2 (42-45), based on Psalm 84[85], is drawn from the pseudo-Bonaventurean Meditationes Vitae Christi; likewise this work, by way of Michael of Massa’s Vita, is the unacknowledged source of such passages as the first invitation to imaginative participation in the Gospel scene in chapter 9, on the nativity: “You too should now go to see the Word made flesh for you; kneel and adore the Lord your God . . . . kiss the feet of the child Jesus . . . . Take him in your arms and hold him close to you. Gaze lovingly into his face and reverently kiss him; find your heart’s delight in him” (182); Ludolph almost never makes such invitations independently. Some of the more rhetorically elevated passages also owe their presence to this or similar works, as in the lyrical paean later in the same chapter: “Today God is adored in the likeness of sinful flesh. Today we are born together with Christ because his nativity is the origin of the Christian people. Today two miracles occur that are infinitely beyond our understanding and can only be grasped by faith: God is born and a Virgin gives birth. Today a whole host of miracles is made known” (189). Such borrowings should not be considered plagiarism in the modern sense, but rather assimilating and participating in an ongoing, developing tradition. Ludolph does seem somewhat reluctant to refer explicitly to more “modern” works generally (other than Aquinas), as he also fails to identify, for example, his borrowings from Bonaventure’s authentic Commentary on Luke’s Gospel. Conversely he makes sure his readers are aware of the identity of the great patristic and early medieval authors he quotes profusely throughout – particularly the Four Latin Fathers – Augustine, Ambrose, Jerome and Gregory the Great, along with their Greek contemporary John Chrysostom, and later masters such as Bede, Anselm and Bernard. Not all these citations are accurate (much of Chrysostom and almost all of Anselm are misattributed, for example) but they are based on the best information available at the time. He clearly intends to make his readers aware of the richness of the spiritual and theological insights of the major figures of the Christian past, so that the Vita is, among other things, a marvelous anthology of great passages of classic commentaries on the scriptures.  

Ludolph makes relatively little use of apocryphal materials, except in the early chapters on the birth and upbringing of the Virgin Mary, where he relies on the traditional and widely accepted details of the parentage of Joachim and Anne, her upbringing in the Temple, her betrothal to Joseph after his selection through miraculous signs and their mutual decision to remain celibate – some of which dates back to the second-century Protoevangelium of James, augmented by various later elaborations. He is not supportive of the tradition that Joseph was an older man with previous children (58), though certain later details indicate that he drew on some of the sources in which at least the difference in age was found. Basically he avoids most legendary details not supported by the scriptural text (one exception, drawn from “Anselm” – actually Aelred of Rievaulx – is the appealing story in chapter 13 [270] that the Holy Family on the way to Egypt is saved from robbers by the brigand chief’s young son, who asks the Christ Child to remember him should the occasion ever arise – which it does when he turns out to be the “good thief” crucified with Jesus). What chiefly impresses the reader is Ludolph’s sober tone, his clear organization, and his comprehensive, though in fact not exhaustive, commentary (there is surprisingly little discussion of the Magnificat, for example, beyond the opening words [123-24]; Matthew’s genealogy gets far more attention than Luke’s [134-44]). The author shows a fine sense of balance and proportion: the first sixteen chapters [26-329] bring the story up to the point where the public ministry is about to start; the next sixteen [330-603] move from John’s mission and Christ’s baptism through the temptations, the call of the first disciples and the early preaching and signs (drawing on both John and the Synoptics, especially Matthew’s account); the final eight chapters included in this volume, 178 pages (604-781), are devoted exclusively to the Sermon on the Mount, with detailed reflections on the Beatitudes (604-29), the command to love one’s enemies (654-74) and the Lord’s Prayer (688-710), incorporating much of the rich patristic commentary tradition on the Pater.

In his final reflections on the Sermon, which make an apt conclusion for this first volume of the translation, Ludolph focuses on the power of Jesus’ words, a proclamation of the good news fulfilling and transcending the traditions of the elders, the power “to make an impression and turn the hearts of his listeners to him” because unlike the scribes and Pharisees, he spoke with authority, “subject to no one” (780). Drawing once again (via Massa) on the Meditationes Vitae Christi, he urges the reader to “watch the Lord Jesus as he delivers this sermon, and contemplate him,” joining with the disciples who “devote their entire attention to Christ, listening to his marvelous discourse and committing it to memory. . . . Contemplation of this scene should bring joy to you, too, as you watch and listen – it is as if you were really seeing him and hearing him speak” (780). This encouragement to make not only the message but the experience of the gospel one’s own goes a long way toward explaining the popularity of this dauntingly long work for Ludolph’s contemporaries as for later readers such as Ignatius, and the reason why its translator and annotator has been willing to take on the comparably daunting task of making its insights newly available for a very different era, but one equally in need of hearing that message and sharing that experience.