The Christological Dimension of Papal Ceremonies: Alexander VI and the Opening of the Holy Door

Abstract

The aim of the paper will be to examine how Pope Alexander VI used liturgy to underscore his dignity as the vicar of Christ. During the pontificate of Rodrigo Borgia—and indeed throughout the 15th century—papal authority faced ongoing challenges, such as appeals to council, Savonarola’s preaching, and political conflicts with Charles VIII of France. In this context, the concept of the vicariate of Christ served as a crucial justification for the pope’s preeminent position within the Church. The unique bond between Christ and the pope was emphasized through various rites, including the opening of the Holy Door. In its first part, the paper will explore several examples of how Alexander VI portrayed himself as the vicar of Christ. This self-representation was conveyed not only through ceremonies, such as the possesso procession marking the inauguration of his pontificate, but also through artistic representations commissioned at various locations. Subsequently, the study will demonstrate that the opening of the Holy Door during the Jubilee of 1500 was carefully designed to highlight the Christological dimension of papal primacy. Although previous scholarship has addressed aspects of this rite, its political significance has largely been overlooked. By drawing on a variety of sources, this paper will trace the genesis and meaning of the ceremony, which was meticulously shaped by Alexander VI.

1. Introduction

On 24 December 2024, the world’s media captured a poignant moment as pope Francis, seated in a wheelchair, opened the Holy Door at Saint Peter’s Basilica to inaugurate the Jubilee of 2025. This significant gesture linked Francis to a long-standing tradition that dates back to 1500 when Alexander VI (Rodrigo Borgia) first opened the Vatican’s porta sancta. It is a striking paradox of history that the pontiff renowned for his commitment to poverty, simplicity, and humility would partake in a rite initiated by a predecessor often portrayed as dissolute, greedy, and overambitious (DeSilva 2020).

However, this article does not seek to judge or justify Borgia; rather, it aims to delve into the historical context and symbolic meaning of his decision to open the Holy Door at Saint Peter’s Basilica. Prior to 1500, the Holy Door had been opened exclusively at the Lateran Basilica, with the first recorded instance occurring in 1424 under pope Martin V. Alexander VI expanded this tradition by ordering the installation of Holy Doors at three other major Roman basilicas: San Pietro, Santa Maria Maggiore, and San Paolo fuori le mura, presiding personally over the inauguration ceremony in the Vatican shrine (Cannata 1995; Jung-Inglessis 1975).

Thus far, the Borgia’s Jubilee has received relatively limited attention from scholars (Jung-Inglessis 1997, pp. 121–38; Ilari 2000; Weinmann 2004; Fernandez de Córdova de Miralles 2008–2009; Ojrzyński 2022a, 2022b). The few studies dedicated to this event have examined certain aspects, such as the ecclesiastical and civic rites performed on that occasion (Ojrzyński 2022a), the presence of foreign pilgrims in Rome (Żak 2023b), and the architectural transformations undertaken (Ximo Company 2002; Gargano 2016). The opening of the Holy Door has also been addressed, though without a thorough exploration of the rite’s symbolic and political significance (Jung-Inglessis 2001). This paper will argue that the ceremony inauguration at San Pietro held profound Christological significance. Through this celebration, Borgia sought to articulate his vision of papal authority, deeply rooted in the concept of vicarius Christi (Bölling 2023). To provide a comprehensive understanding of this theme, the discussion will first explore the role of Christ’s vicarage in the context of the late medieval and Renaissance papacy, illustrating how this concept was envisioned through liturgical practices during this transformative period.

2. Liturgy of Vicarius Christi

In the Renaissance, vicarius Christi was undoubtedly one of the most frequently employed papal titles (Maccarrone 1952). However, as early as the twelfth century, popes had already adopted this designation to define their specific mission within the Christian community (Erkens 2023, pp. 47–52). Initially, the idea that the bishop of Rome was Christ’s vicar on earth was conveyed primarily through iconographic and symbolic representations (Paravicini Bagliani 2005, pp. 45–63). Over time, these artistic and ritual expressions were supplemented by theological and canonical reflections.

In the late Middle Ages, the frequent use of the title vicarius Christi was a response to challenges to papal authority. During the Western Schism, when Christianity was divided into two, and eventually even three obediences, the conviction emerged that it was necessary to establish a higher authority competent to resolve the conflict between the Roman, Avignon, and Pisan popes. The papacy was perceived as unable not only to end the schism, but also to initiate and implement a program of reform. Many believed that the only institution equipped to renew the fractured Church was a council. The success of the Council of Constance (1414–1418) led many to affirm the supremacy of episcopal assemblies over the pope (Stump 2009). In the theological debate, both defenders of the papal plenitudo potestatis and advocates of conciliarism advanced various arguments in support of their positions (Canning 2021, pp. 61–91). For the former, the foundation of their defense of papal supremacy laid in the title vicarius Christi, asserting that there is no higher authority in the Church than Christ himself, who is represented by the bishop of Rome. The threat of a council being convened to depose a pope and undermine his authority remained a persistent concern for Renaissance pontiffs. (Landi 1997) At times, such appeals to conciliar authority were initiated by cardinals seeking to establish an oligarchical model of Church governance, in contrast to the monarchical vision upheld by the papacy (DeSilva 2008).

The theological disputes over the pope’s power were closely followed by lay rulers who, when politically expedient, did not hesitate to question papal authority (Chambers 2006). In such circumstances, the concept of the vicarage of Christ became a crucial instrument for defending the pope’s authority: since Christ is the King of kings, no earthly monarch has the right to gainsay papal supremacy. However, the title was not used exclusively in apologetical contexts. Monarchs sometimes relied on the pope’s authority to legitimize their actions. In such instances, they acknowledged the supreme power of the bishop of Rome and its Christological foundations, requesting papal intervention as a mediator in political disputes or seeking the concession of rights to newly discovered territories (Fernandez de Córdova de Miralles 2005).

The title vicarius Christi was also significant in shaping the relationship between the papacy and the faithful, who regarded the pope as the source of spiritual authority. In the fifteenth century, the number of petitions addressed to the Holy See increased considerably, as people sought various graces, privileges, and dispensations (Jaritz et al. 2004). Requests from even the most remote regions were sent to Rome, seeking the dissolution of marriages, permission to be ordained despite canonical impediments, the right to use a portable altar, or authorization to celebrate Mass in territories under interdict. The pope, as the representative of Christ, was regarded as the dispenser of these spiritual favors. Many believers would have identified with the declaration made by the Dominican friar Sebastiano Angeli when he met Alexander VI in 1495: “Most Blessed Father, I know with certainty that you are Christ”.1

It is therefore unsurprising that Pius II, in his Commentarii, employed the expression vicarius Christi—along with its variations vicarius Dei, vicarius Iesu Christi, and vicarius Salvatoris—no fewer than forty-eight times when discussing the dignity of the papacy, whether his own or that of his predecessors. By contrast, he referred to the title successor beati Petri only five times. For Piccolomini, as well as for other pontiffs of the period, emphasizing the bond between them and Christ served as strong apologetic tool, particularly when papal supremacy was contested (O’Brien 2015). In the third book of his Commentaries, Pius II criticizes those opponents who sought to appeal to a council, convinced that such an assembly held greater authority than the pope. On the contrary, Pius emphasizes, no higher authority exists on earth than the bishop of Rome, for he is the vicar of Christ:

“There had long ago crept into the Church of God a fatal custom directed against the censures of the Pope. For those convicted and condemned by apostolic sentence would appeal to a future council and thus evaded the judgment of the Apostolic See. They appealed to a judge who did not exist and assumed a superior to the pope of Rome who cannot be found on earth, and though they allowed no appeal from their own decisions, they agreed that appeal from Christ’s Vicar should be permitted”.2

The unique bond between Christ and the bishop of Rome was frequently expressed through liturgical rites, both in exceptional ceremonies held on special occasions and in the more routine rites that formed an integral part of daily life at the papal court. Among the liturgies regularly celebrated in the chapel of the Apostolic Palace, the most significant was, of course, the Eucharist (Paravicini Bagliani 2015, p. 3). Papal Masses gathered a diverse assembly of noble attendees, both lay and clerical, many of whom were foreign visitors who had traveled to Rome from distant lands (Bölling 2004). The Eucharist provided an ideal opportunity to convey crucial political and theological messages, not only to these distinguished guests but also to officials of the Roman Curia. Through its carefully orchestrated rites, the liturgy reflected and reinforced the internal hierarchy of the papal court.

The celebration of the Eucharist offered numerous opportunities to visually express the pope’s dignity as Christ’s vicar through liturgical symbols and ritual gestures. According to the Caeremoniale of Agostino Patrizi Piccolomini and Johann Burchard, the pope, when attending mass, wore white (alb) and red (cope) vestments—unless he was the celebrant, in which case his vestments followed the liturgical colors of the season (Dykmans 1982, vol. 2, p. 259). As Agostino Paravicini Bagliani has observed, these two colors carried profound Christological significance: red evoked Christ’s Passion, while white symbolized His innocence and purity (Paravicini Bagliani 1994, pp. 121–25). This theological symbolism was well understood within the curial milieu. Pius II, for instance, referred to the white alb he received upon his election to the papacy as “alba Christi tunica” (van Heck 1984, vol. 1, p. 106). Similarly, in the Rationale, a thirteenth-century commentary on the liturgy by Wilhelm Durandus—widely read and copied at the Renaissance papal court (Żak 2023a, p. 387)—the red cope of the pope was interpreted as a symbol of Christ’s self-sacrificial offering for the salvation of His flock (Darvil and Thibodeau 1995, p. 238).

However, the symbolism of papal vestments was not the only liturgical element that underscored the connection between the pontiff and Christ. During every mass, the cardinals recited the so-called ad circulum prayers alongside the pope (Żak, forthcoming). While chanting the Introit, Kyrie eleison, Gloria in excelsis Deo, Sanctus, and Agnus Dei, the cardinals moved from their seats and stood in a semicircle around the papal throne. This custom, which likely originated during the Avignon period, had acquired a Christological interpretation by the fifteenth century. According to Paris de Grassi, master of ceremonies, this rite evoked the apocalyptic vision of the twenty-four elders who prostrate themselves before Christ enthroned in heavenly glory (Rev. 4.8–10).3 Consequently, the ceremony visually presented the pope as an image of Christ, before whom the cardinals—like their biblical counterparts—demonstrated obedience. The celestial hierarchy of the heavenly court thus found a parallel in the internal structure of the papal court, as made manifest through the liturgy.

Beyond the celebration of the Eucharist, the pontifical ceremonial provided numerous other occasions to affirm the pope’s dignity as vicarius Christi. Events unrelated to the mass offered even greater opportunities to communicate the Christological dimension of papal authority to a broader audience. From the very beginning of his reign, Alexander VI was particularly adept at showcasing his unique relationship with Christ, which served to legitimize his power. He seized every available occasion to emphasize this connection, employing both ceremonial and artistic representations to reinforce the sacred foundation of his authority.

3. Alexander VI: Alexander the Great, Julius Caesar or Jesus Christ?

From the very outset of his pontificate, Alexander VI demonstrated that the concept of the vicarage of Christ was central to his vision of papal authority (Quattrocchi 2001). This theological principle, however, was articulated not through explicitly biblical language but rather through deliberate allusions to ancient history (Visceglia 2002; Gargano 2001). The inscriptions carved on the triumphal arches erected along the route of his possesso procession explicitly emphasized both the connection between the pope and Christ and Alexander VI’s ties to imperial Rome. Notably, some inscriptions referred to the pontiff as divus, a title traditionally applied both to Christ, as the Son of God, and to Roman emperors, who presented themselves as the embodiment of divinity (Corio 1857, pp. 466–68).

One inscription, emblazoned in gold letters on the façade of a house, underscored this comparison between the rulers of antiquity and the new pontiff: “Cesare magna fuit, nunc Roma est maxima/Sextus regnat Alexander, ille vir, iste deus” (ibid., p. 468). Other inscriptions similarly attributed to the new pope qualities traditionally reserved for both God and ancient rulers: “invictissimus, pientissimus, magnificentissimus, Alexandro in omnibus maximo honor et gloria” (ibid.). Another inscription reinforced the idea that the restoration of Rome’s former glory, along with peace and prosperity, was not the work of mere human agency but rather of the new representative of God: “Libertatis pia iusticia et pax aurea, opes quae sunt tibi Roma novus fert deus iste tibi” (ibid.).

As Irene Fosi (2002) has aptly noted, the possesso procession of a newly elected pope served not only to convey theological concepts but also to articulate the guiding principles of his reign. In the case of Alexander VI, the ceremonial framework made it clear that he sought to emphasize his military ambitions. The prominence of armed forces in the procession reinforced this message, with cannon fire and the conspicuous presence of soldiers creating a spectacle of power: “Then many artillery pieces fired from the castle [of Sant’Angelo], from each merlon of which stood a man-at-arms”.4

The decorations of the triumphal arches left no doubt as to the pope’s intentions. One arch, explicitly modeled after that of Constantine near the Colosseum, symbolized Alexander’s aspiration to vanquish his personal and the Church’s enemies:

“[The arch] was similar to that near the Colosseum, with four massive and tall columns on either side. Above the capitals stood four armed men in the manner of ancient barons, holding naked swords in their hands. Atop the arch and above the heads of the men was the arch’s crown, bearing the pope’s coat of arms.”5

Yet there was a fundamental distinction between the ancient monuments of Rome and the temporary structures erected for Alexander VI’s possesso. The former, though splendid, were relics of a distant past, whereas the latter, adorned with the papal coat of arms and guarded by soldiers, appeared alive with contemporary significance. The revival of imperial grandeur was not merely commemorative—it was embodied in the figure of the new pope himself. This message was further reinforced by a striking element of the procession: the pontiff was preceded by a cleric carrying the Eucharist (Schimmelpfennig 1974, p. 262). In this way, the celebration underscored that the pope’s power was derived not merely from military strength but primarily from Christ, to whom he was inextricably bound.

The contrast between ancient Rome and the Rome of Alexander VI was also highlighted by Girolamo Porcari, a canon of Saint Peter’s Basilica, who wrote a commentary on the coronation feast of the new pontiff. Describing the moment when Borgia left the Leonine City and entered the Urbs, blessing the Roman people, Porcari writes: “Pontificalibus aureis ornamentis Alexander Christi vicarius benedicens populum ingreditur urbem” (Porcari 1493, f. 27r; Meserve 2021, p. 282). To his eyes, Alexander appears as a new emperor—suggested by the reference to golden vestments—yet one whose power is not founded on military strength but rather on the divine office entrusted to him as the true vicar of Christ. If the pontiff must undertake a military campaign, he does so not out of violence or a thirst for power but solely to defend the Christian people. For this reason, according to Porcari, organizing a crusade is not merely a strategic choice but a moral duty:

“But you will say that a grave war and danger have been brought upon the Christians by the most powerful prince of the Turks. The Vicar of Christ neither wishes nor is able to avoid this. We read that the kingdom of the Greeks and all its dominion are in his power, that many Christian cities have been burned, and that Hungary is in fear. Even our faith does not rest safely in peace”.6

The interweaving of two seemingly irreconcilable models of the papacy—that of the warrior-pope and that of Christ’s vicar—was a recurring theme throughout Alexander VI’s reign. Beyond his possesso, he employed similar symbolism in other public ceremonies, including solemn processions and even the Corpus Domini liturgy (Żak, forthcoming). However, the prominent display of military force during papal celebrations was not universally accepted. Many critics viewed this practice as more befitting a secular prince than the head of the Church. Filippo Valori, the Florentine orator, offered a particularly scathing critique of Alexander’s procession to Santa Maria Maggiore on 27 February 1493:

“Beyond what was customary for other pontiffs, His Holiness had three squads of light horsemen armed with all manner of weapons before him, and the guards, clad in cuirasses with cuirass belts, partisans, and shields, so that the cross carried in front was scarcely visible. Two more squads of armed men followed His Holiness, with long lances as if they were going into battle. No other pontiffs, even in times of war, have ever done this. All of Rome spoke of this manner of appearance, generally condemning it, not only because it was unprecedented but also because it seemed unbefitting a pontiff on his way to a devotional act”.7

Significantly, the pope’s visit to the Liberian Basilica was purely devotional in nature, as it coincided with the prescribed statio at Santa Maria Maggiore during Lent (de Blaauw 1994, pp. 64–65). This suggests that for Alexander VI, the presence of military elements was in no way at odds with an act of personal piety. Rather, he saw both as belonging to the same sphere, where religious and political aspirations were inseparably intertwined. Both the possesso procession and the solemn visit to the Marian shrine conveyed a unified message to Romans, Curial officials, and the many foreign visitors—pilgrims, ambassadors, and merchants—present in the city. By reviving the imagery of ancient imperial power while underscoring his divine mandate, Alexander VI positioned himself as a ruler whose sovereignty was as absolute as that of the great emperors of antiquity, from Julius Caesar to Alexander the Great.

However, it appears that Borgia sought to convey the same message through the frescoes commissioned from Bernardino Pinturicchio, both in the Apostolic Palace (within the renowned Borgia Apartments) and in Castel Sant’Angelo. Shortly after his election in 1492, Alexander VI undertook the fortification of Castel Sant’Angelo by constructing defensive structures, including a round tower at the entrance to the bridge (D’Onofrio 1971, pp. 206–13; Testa 1999, pp. 57–69). This tower was connected to the pope’s personal apartment and featured a private garden. Unfortunately, the Borgia section of the castle, decorated with Pinturicchio’s frescoes, was demolished by Urban VIII in September 1628. Nevertheless, through the writings of the German humanist Lorenzo Beheim, who transcribed the inscriptions beneath the images, we know the content of these frescoes which depicted the most significant moments of Charles VIII’s visit to Rome in January 1495 (Cavallaro 2001). Some of the frescoes illustrated elements of the papal rites in which the French king participated, underscoring the pope’s supremacy over secular rulers. In the first two frescoes, Pinturicchio represented Charles VIII paying homage to Borgia by kissing his foot.8 In the fourth fresco, he illustrated a mass celebrated by Alexander VI, during which the king washed the hands of the pontiff in the presence of the College of Cardinals.9

Borgia had Charles VIII’s visit depicted as a great triumph of papacy, even though the arrival of the French army had frightened him so much that he fled the Apostolic Palace and took refuge in Castel Sant’Angelo (de Jong 2013, pp. 28–43). However, for Alexander VI, it was not historical accuracy that mattered in designing the iconographic program of the frescoes, but rather the ideological message behind it: the pope, as the vicar of Christ, is the sovereign of the world, and all monarchs should be subject to him. Particularly noteworthy is that Alexander VI chose to depict liturgical events (including the mass) to assert his papal dignity. This choice indicates that, for the pope, sacred rites (including the Eucharist) provided a fitting occasion to highlight his role as vicarius Christi.

The unique bond between the pope and Christ was also highlighted in the frescoes Pinturicchio painted in the pope’s private apartments in the Apostolic Palace. Among the various elements of the rich iconographic program, the fresco of the resurrection in the Hall of Mysteries stands out (Poeschel 1999, pp. 94–108). At the center of the image is Christ, dressed in white, holding the banner—symbolizing His paschal victory—in one hand and making the gesture of blessing with the other. The Savior, accompanied by cherubs, is surrounded by a nimbus with rays that seem to emanate from His glorious body. At Christ’s feet lies an empty tomb, with four astonished and terrified soldiers kneeling before the risen Lord.

What is most striking in the fresco, however, is the portrait of Alexander VI, kneeling to the left of the uncovered tomb (Maddalo 2008–2009). The pope is clad in a rich cope, his head uncovered, with his hands clasped in prayer; beside him on the ground lies the papal tiara. This magnificent fresco clearly illustrates Alexander VI’s vision: the source of all power is the risen Christ, the sole sovereign of the world, who shares his supremacy with His vicar, the pope. This power is primarily spiritual (expressed through the blessing gesture in the fresco) but also temporal (represented by the soldiers kneeling before Christ).

In 2006, during the restoration of the Borgia Apartments, another significant detail in the Resurrection fresco emerged. In an article published in L’Osservatore Romano, Antonio Paolucci, an art historian and director of the Vatican Museums from 2007 to 2016, highlighted a small detail that became more visible thanks to the restoration work led by Maria Pustka: in the background, behind the soldier struck by the miraculous event, there are figures of naked men adorned with feathers, who appear to be dancing. According to Paolucci, these figures correspond to Christopher Columbus’ descriptions of the indigenous people he encountered, as recorded in his writings. The dates also coincide: Pinturicchio’s fresco cycle was completed at the end of 1494, after Columbus’ return from America and following the famous Treaty of Tordesillas (Paolucci 2013; Rubiano 2021).

If Paolucci’s interpretation is correct, not only do we find the first image of native Americans, but, more importantly, we also encounter an iconographic representation of the concept of the papacy that is reflected in the papal bulls concerning the discovery of the New World and its evangelization (Hernando 2004; del Vas Mingo 1995; Fernandez de Córdova de Miralles 2005, pp. 478–97). As Paolo Prodi (2003) rightly noted, in the documents where Alexander VI divided the entire world between the rulers of Spain and Portugal, there is a clear reference to the concept of the vicariate of Christ:

“we, of our own accord, not at your instance nor the request of anyone else in your regard, but of our own sole largess and certain knowledge and out of the fullness of our apostolic power, by the authority of almighty God conferred upon us in blessed Peter and of the vicarship of Jesus Christ, which we hold on earth, do by tenor of these presents, should any of said islands have been found by your envoys and captains, give, grant, and assign to you and your heirs and successors, kings of Castile and Leon, forever, together with all their dominions, cities, camps, places, and villages, and all rights, jurisdictions, and appurtenances”.10

The document presents the pope as the sovereign of the world, entirely free in his decisions and actions, exercising power over all lands because, as Peter’s successor, he is the vicar of Christ, and his authority is rooted in auctoritate omnipotentis Dei.

Both official documents, as well as artistic representations and solemn ceremonies, confirm that Alexander VI consciously and consistently presented himself as the vicarius Christi, and this concept was the foundation of his vision of the papacy. The frescoes in Castel Sant’Angelo reveal that he regarded liturgy and ceremonial as an appropriate occasion to emphasize his sovereignty. As will be demonstrated, also the liturgy of the opening of the Holy Door provided Alexander VI with an opportunity to present the close bond between the pope and Christ.

4. The Opening of the Jubilee of 1500

The first bull concerning the Jubilee was issued as early as 12 April 1498 (Consueverunt Romani Pontifices). In this document, Alexander VI suspended all plenary indulgences previously granted to churches, monasteries, hospitals, religious orders, universities, and individuals (Jenks 2018, pp. 376–78). Following the example of Sixtus IV, he sought to encourage the faithful to journey to Rome and obtain indulgences there. This same provision was reiterated in another bull dated 28 March 1499 (Inter multiplices) (ibid., pp. 379–82). In both documents, Alexander VI justifies the revocation of earlier privileges by invoking his authority as vicarius Christi.

The bull that solemnly proclaimed the Jubilee was issued only a few days before its opening, on 20 December 1499 (Inter curas multiplices) (ibid., pp. 382–86). In it, the pope declared that, in order to obtain the indulgence, the faithful—having confessed and shown contrition—were required to visit the four major basilicas (thirty times if they resided in Rome, fifteen times if they came from elsewhere). The indulgence was also extended to pilgrims who had set out for Rome but were prevented from arriving or died along the way. Moreover, the document allowed for indulgences to be obtained on behalf of the deceased: their relatives were instructed to visit the designated churches and make an offering in the cassette in St. Peter’s Basilica, intended for the church’s renovation. Alexander VI also issued a special bull for confessors (20 December 1499, Pastores aeterni), granting them the faculty to absolve sins normally reserved to the Holy See (ibid., pp. 387–90). During the Holy Year, the pope modified the original provisions, allowing indulgences to be gained in locations outside Rome (Dompnier 1999). Such privileges continued to be granted even after the Jubilee’s conclusion. For instance, a bull issued in 1503 for the Polish diocese of Poznań designated specific churches where the faithful could obtain indulgences (Ojrzyński 2022b, pp. 232–38).

For Alexander VI, the ceremony of opening the Holy Door was undoubtedly of central importance. This rite was explicitly announced in the bull proclaiming the Jubilee. According to account of Johannes Burchard, a master of papal ceremonies, preparations for the inauguration ceremony began only a few days before the event, scheduled for Christmas Eve (24 December 1499) (Weinmann 2004; Ojrzyński 2022a). On December 18, Alexander VI summoned the penitentiaries of St. Peter’s Basilica to determine the conditions required to gain the plenary indulgence during the Jubilee, and held a meeting with Burchard to discuss the inaugural liturgy (Celani 1907–1942, vol. 2, p. 179). The pope privately visited the Basilica, where the master of ceremonies showed him the location in pope John VII’s Marian oratory where the Vultus Domini was kept (Ballardini and Pogliani 2013). Burchard informed the pontiff that, according to the canons of St. Peter’s, there was a walled-up golden door in the chapel that was only opened during Jubilee years. Borgia approved the idea of using the Holy Door and opening it solemnly on the day of the inauguration. He therefore ordered the wall to be removed to allow pilgrims to pass through the door and commissioned architectural elements (such as a tympanum) to adorn it.

As Christoph Frommel (2001) has observed, it is unlikely that the portal constructed to embellish the Holy Door was built in just five days. The scholar has suggested that pre-existing elements were used in its construction. However, there may be another explanation. In his diary, Burchard frequently portrayed himself as a wise and creative advisor in matters concerning the performance of papal liturgies (Żak 2023a, pp. 383–85). He often highlighted his own skills and contributions, and when something went wrong during the ceremonies, he tended to blame others for not following his prudent instructions. It is thus plausible that, in the preparations for the Jubilee, Burchard took all the credit, presenting himself as the true architect of the ceremony, when, in reality, the plan for the celebration may have been devised by others, and possibly before his meeting with the pope, to which he refers. This hypothesis may explain how the masons were able to construct the portal in such a short time. In fact, the work may have begun well before Burchard’s meeting with Alexander VI.

If not Burchard, then who proposed the installation of the porta sancta at San Pietro? In previous Jubilee years, the Holy Door had certainly been opened in the Lateran Basilica (Cannata 1995; Jung-Inglessis 1975). The earliest known reference, identified so far by scholars, appears in a letter from a Florentine merchant dated 23 March 1400, written during his stay in Rome (Jung-Inglessis 2001, p. 59). In the letter, he reports that one of the doors of the Lateran church, normally kept closed, had been opened that year. According to him, people believed that passing through the door three times granted absolution of sins and remission of punishment. He further claims that this door is opened every fifty years, and notes that during the previous Jubilee, celebrated in 1390, the pope did not allow it to be opened (Melis 1970, p. 354). This testimony suggests that the idea of opening a holy door—and the spiritual graces associated with entering it—originated as a popular belief among the faithful, which the papacy later began to regulate and institutionalize.

In fact, on the occasion of other Jubilee years, it seems that the pontiffs did control the rite. Niccolò della Tuccia, in his Chronicle of Viterbo, notes that: “Then pope Martin had the door of St. John opened, and the indulgence lasted for a year, in 1424. A great many people came to Rome for the indulgence”.11 Giovanni Rucellai, a wealthy Florentine merchant and eyewitness to the Jubilee of 1450, described the Lateran Basilica in these terms:

“Of those five doors, there is one that remains continuously walled up, except in the Jubilee year, when it is unsealed at Christmas, marking the beginning of the Jubilee. Such is the devotion people have for the bricks and mortar that, as soon as the door is unsealed, they are carried away in a rush by the crowd, and those from beyond the Alps take them home as holy relics. It is said that Our Lord Jesus Christ passed through this door (…), and out of this devotion, everyone who comes for the indulgence passes through it, after which it is immediately walled up again once the Jubilee ends”.12

Rucellai added an important detail: it was believed that the Jubilee Door was the one through which Christ himself had passed. For this reason, it was considered holy, and its veneration ensured the forgiveness of sins.

Although the sources tell us that in 1425 and 1450, respectively, Martin V and Nicholas V opened the Holy Door—sometimes referred to as the Golden Door—only in the Lateran Basilica (Jung-Inglessis 1975, p. 475), in the second half of the fifteenth century, we also find references in pilgrim guidebooks (especially those for pilgrims coming from Germany) indicating that St. Peter’s Basilica also had a Holy Door. This door was said to be the one through which Christ himself had passed, and the pope would open it on the occasion of Jubilees. Nikolaus Muffel, a patrician from Nuremberg who came to Rome in 1452 in the entourage of emperor Frederick III, wrote in his Beschreibung der Stadt Rom:

“Moreover, behind the altar, to the right of those entering, where the Holy Veronica is kept, there is the Golden Gate, through which Christ passed carrying the Holy Cross. It is made of precious marble and was brought to Rome by Titus and Vespasian. In past times, it remained open. If a man who had committed murder passed through it, his sin and crime would be forgiven (…). Then the pope intervened and ordered the doors to be walled up, saying: ‘No one should put God to the test and sin in this manner.’ Thus, the doors were to remain sealed forever”.13

According to Muffel, in the chapel where the Veil of Veronica was kept, there was the Golden Door through which Christ passed while carrying the Cross. Made of precious marble, it was brought to Rome by Titus and Vespasian. In ancient times, the author recounts, it was believed that if a man who had committed murder passed through it, his sin would be forgiven. To prevent the spread of this false belief, the pope ordered the door to be walled up.

This information was reiterated by an anonymous German author of the guidebook In dem puechlein stet geschrieben wie Rome gepauet ward, published in 1472 (Jung-Inglessis 1975, pp. 475–76). However, the first author to mention the Holy Door of St. Peter’s was Felix Hemmerlin, a cleric from Zurich, in his Dyalogus de anno jubileo, written in 1449 in anticipation of the Holy Year of 1450:

“To this gate, therefore, we shall make a most fitting comparison with the Golden Gate of Rome, which will be opened during the solemnity of our Jubilee at St. John’s and at the Basilica of Blessed Peter, Prince of the Apostles, as for now, it has been firmly walled up for fifty years”.14

It is unclear whether the authors of these three books were actually in Rome during the Jubilee and, consequently, whether they personally saw the Holy Door at St. Peter’s. Muffel certainly did not participate in the Jubilee, as he arrived in Italy with Frederick III a year after the conclusion of the Holy Year. Hemmerlin was likely in Rome in 1425, but we have no definitive evidence (Reber 1846, p. 71). The author of the last book remains anonymous, and his biography is unknown. If the authors were not present in the Eternal City during the Holy Year, this implies that they did not see the door firsthand and merely reported information provided to them by others.

The fact that the authors may not have recounted their personal experiences of the Jubilee at St. Peter’s but rather the accounts they heard from others is further supported by the discovery made during the renovations commissioned by Alexander VI in the oratory, where no trace of the Holy Door was found. Burchard informs us that the masons discovered that “there had never been a gate before, but rather a wall with the customary altar in the same aforementioned location, which we called a gate”15.

It seems that the tradition of the porta sancta in the Vatican Basilica was created by the clergy of that church and should be understood in the context of the rivalry between the Lateran and Vatican priests (Jäggi 2020). As previously mentioned, according to Burchard, it was the canons of St. Peter’s who insisted on the existence of the Holy Door in the chapel where the Veil of Veronica was kept. Most likely, the Vatican clergy sought to respond to the efforts intensified in the second half of the fifteenth century by the Lateran clergy to gather relics associated with the Passion of Christ (Horsch 2020). Among these relics were those believed to have come from the palace of Pilate, such as the stairs Christ ascended to meet the Roman procurator, the column that cracked at the moment of Jesus’ death, and the very door through which Christ passed. Thus, it seems that the creation of the legend surrounding the porta sancta at the Vatican was a response to the attempts by the canons of the Basilica of St. John to transform the Lateran complex into a Roman Jerusalem, a sanctuary of relics connected to the life of Jesus, purportedly brought to the Eternal City from the Holy Land.

Even though during the building works the porta sancta hadn’t been found, Alexander VI chose to affirm the legend about its existence with his papal authority and ordered the construction of the door in the location where tradition held it should be. Why did Borgia decide not to refute the legend? The first reason is surely the one mentioned by Burchard: the pope did not wish to disturb the devotion of the faithful, who believed that the Holy Door existed in the Vatican Basilica and that passing through it could grant them the forgiveness of their sins (Celani 1907–1942, vol. 2, p. 180). However, in our view, Alexander VI may have had another motivation. According to tradition, the Golden Door at St. Peter’s was the same one that had stood in the palace of Pilate in Jerusalem and had been crossed by Christ himself while carrying the Cross. By opening and passing through the door, the pope would have been imitating the Savior, a gesture that would have made him even more Christ-like. This could also explain why Borgia had forbidden, under pain of death, anyone to cross the door before he himself had done so (ibid., p. 187).

Another important reason for the installation and opening of the Holy Door at St. Peter’s Basilica lies in the role this church played within Alexander VI’s vision of the papacy. After the Avignon period, popes—Alexander VI included—no longer resided in the Lateran complex but in the Apostolic Palace, adjacent to St. Peter’s. As a result, visiting this basilica became not only an act of veneration toward the Apostle, but also a symbolic homage to his successor (Kuntz 2019). For this reason, Alexander VI took various measures to attract pilgrims to this particular shrine. First, all liturgical celebrations presided over by the pope and open to the faithful were held in St. Peter’s. Second, Alexander ordered the construction of the Via Alessandrina, a new street that led to St. Peter, designed to facilitate access for pilgrims (Gargano 2016). The papal penitentiaries—endowed with the faculty to absolve sins reserved to the pope—also heard confessions there (Jenks 2018, pp. 387–90). Finally, it was in St. Peter’s alone that the pope personally opened the Holy Door.

Although not all pilgrims visiting the basilica in 1500 had the opportunity to see the pope, they could nonetheless admire a new organ commissioned by Alexander VI, which conveyed an artistic program emphasizing the connection between the pontiff and St. Peter (Antinori 1997). Built in 1495, five years before the Jubilee, the organ stood near the right pillar of the triumphal arch, not far from the tomb of the Apostle—the focal point of pilgrims’ devotion. Its platform, with a wooden casing, rested on six porphyry columns supporting an entablature (of either stone or wood) adorned with the Borgia bull, the pope’s personal emblem. Behind the supporting columns stood a chapel, later dedicated to the Madonna under Pope Paul III. This space eventually housed the famous bronze statue of St. Peter, attributed to Arnolfo di Cambio. According to Aloisio Antinori, it was likely Alexander VI who first moved the statue to this location, although Tiberio Alfarano attributes the relocation to Paul III (Antinori 1997, p. 130; Alfrano 1914, p. 62). Moreover, Alexander VI commissioned the decoration of the organ’s casing with scenes of the martyrdom of Saints Peter and Paul, as well as the story of Simon Magus, all incorporating his papal insignia (Roser 2005, p. 136–7). These frescoes were executed by Amico Aspertini. Thus, pilgrims approaching the tomb of the Apostle were confronted with an image—rich message reinforcing the connection between St. Peter and the reigning pope—who, like every pontiff, traced the foundation of his authority to Petrine succession.

Nevertheless, in the ceremony of the opening of the Holy Door, it was not the pope’s bond with Peter that was emphasized, but rather his bond with Christ. The ceremony began before the Christmas Vespers with a solemn procession, accompanied by the ringing of all the bells in Rome. Alexander VI, wearing the tiara, proceeded to the Basilica’s portico and struck the door three times, or more, with a hammer, before sitting on a throne to wait while the masons uncovered the door (Celani 1907–1942, vol. 2, p. 190). The act of knocking on the door was undoubtedly borrowed from the liturgy of the church’s dedication, during which the bishop would strike the door of the new church three times with his crosier. William Durandus, the author of a well-known commentary on the liturgy, explained this act as follows: “rightly, therefore, doth the bishop ought to smite the doors three times, because that number is most known and most sacred”.16 For Durandus’, the rite had a primarily Christological significance:

“the trine striking on the lintel of the door signified the threefold right which Christ hath in His Church why it ought to be opened unto Him. For it hath from Him Creation, Redemption, and promise of Glorification. For the bishop represented Christ”.17

The opening of the Holy Door thus brought the pope closer to Christ, not only because he passed through the same door that Jesus had crossed before His Passion, but also because he struck it with the hammer, evoking the salvific work of the Savior who created the world, redeemed it, and will glorify it on the day of His coming. Through the act of opening the door, Alexander VI presented himself as the vicar of Christ, His true representative on earth.

In our view, Pope Borgia found inspiration for the rite not only in the legends related to him by Burchard or the canons of St. Peter’s, but also in the liturgy of the church dedication. This ceremony must have been particularly important to Alexander VI, as he had already incorporated elements from it in the tableau vivant staged during the Corpus Christi procession of 1462 in Viterbo (Pollastrelli 2006). It seems that Alexander VI employed the rites of the consecration of a new temple, as interpreted by Durandus in a Christological framework, to symbolically express his dignity as Christ’s representative.

5. Conclusions

The article has demonstrated that the rite of opening the Holy Door, celebrated by Alexander VI at the outset of the Jubilee of 1500, aimed to underscore the exceptional and central bond between the pope and Christ. For Alexander VI, the bishop of Rome was above all the vicarius Christi, endowed by Christ himself with supreme authority in both spiritual and temporal matters. The emphasis on this title was undoubtedly influenced by the various challenges he faced during his pontificate. His authority was contested by numerous adversaries—including certain cardinals (notably Giuliano della Rovere, the future Julius II), monarchs (such as Charles VIII), and charismatic preachers (like Savonarola) (Mallett 1969, pp. 135–62). To defend his position, Alexander VI invoked the Christological foundation of his office. This is why he readily adopted the concept of the vicarius Christi, developed in the High Middle Ages, and expressed it through various means—for example, in artistic representations such as Perugino’s frescoes or the possesso ceremony, where the Christological message was inextricably intertwined with ancient and imperial motifs.

As recent scholarship has shown, the liturgy served as a privileged medium through which the papacy transmitted both political and theological messages, including the idea of Christ’s vicarage (Bölling 2023; McCahill 2013, pp. 137–67; Paravicini Bagliani 1994). The primary recipients of these rites were regular participants in papal ceremonies—cardinals, Curial clergy, members of the Roman nobility, and diplomatic envoys—some of whom were opponents of the pope and challenged his authority. It is therefore unsurprising that even in ordinary liturgies, such as the Mass, popes often presented themselves as vicarii Christi. However, certain feasts—such as the possesso or the Corpus Christi procession—offered the opportunity to engage a broader public. Through these elaborate ceremonies, the pope was able to reach not only the political and ecclesiastical elites of the city but also the ordinary faithful.

The Jubilee, however, allowed the pope to extend his message to an even wider audience. The inauguration of the Holy Year presented a unique opportunity for Borgia: the event attracted countless pilgrims from across the Christian world, eager to obtain indulgences. For this reason, from the very beginning of the Jubilee—the opening of the Holy Door at St. Peter’s—Alexander VI sought to emphasize his bond with Christ, the foundation of his supreme authority. By participating in this and other grand liturgical events, pilgrims not only received the spiritual graces they sought, but were also reminded of the pope’s role as the true vicarius Christi on earth.

In addition to the Holy Door at St. Peter’s Basilica, Alexander VI ordered the opening of a porta sancta at St. John Lateran—thus preserving earlier tradition—and, in an unprecedented innovation, at St. Paul Outside the Walls and St. Mary Major (Ojrzyński 2022a, pp. 404–6). His directive to clear the porticos of all four major basilicas and to prohibit the sick from lingering there reveals his intent to ensure a smooth flow of pilgrims into these sacred spaces (Celani 1907–1942, vol. 2, p. 179). By instituting the opening of Holy Doors in all four major basilicas, Alexander VI aimed to establish a new devotional tradition—one that would become a central feature of the Roman pilgrimage experience.

This article has focused on a single rite celebrated by Borgia during the Jubilee of 1500, limiting the scope of analysis to its political and theological dimensions. However, Borgia’s liturgies could be studied from a variety of perspectives and through diverse methodological lenses, such as the history of the senses (examining liturgy as a multisensory performance) or gender studies (exploring male and female participation in rites). These approaches have thus far been rarely applied to the study of Renaissance papal ceremonies (Kuziow 2024).

The history of the papacy continues to evolve. While Pope Francis has preserved the late medieval tradition of opening the Holy Door, he has imbued it with a markedly different theological emphasis. The Christological dimension of the pope’s dignity no longer occupies center stage; instead, Francis presents the Church as an open house for all. This shift was powerfully illustrated by his decision to open another Holy Door just days after the ceremony at St. Peter’s—this time in the Roman prison of Rebibbia. With this gesture, he emphasized that no one, not even those guilty of grave crimes, is excluded from God’s mercy. For Francis, the image of the pope as a compassionate father awaiting the return of the prodigal son is more compelling than that of the pontiff as vicarius Christi. Tellingly, this title is no longer in common use: in the Annuario Pontificio (Segreteria di Stato Vaticano 2025, p. 24), the Holy See’s official annual directory, vicarius Christi now appears among the “historical titles”.

Despite this shift in symbolic meaning, the Holy Door remains a potent sign that continues to draw millions of pilgrims to Rome. Throughout history, it has captivated the faithful, even as successive popes have used it to convey differing theological visions.