Last Sunday, I visited Savonarola in Florence. I’m really not a fan of his, but I wanted to think about this whole topic of a change of faith. So I went to visit the plaque that marks the spot where Savonarola was burned by the Florentines on May 23, 1498.
Although I’m keeping this post light, I am, in fact, always moved by those who die for their beliefs, even if I disagree with them. Savonarola is a mystery. Was he a megalomaniac? A tragic figure? Did he die because of his true faith or his lust for power?
It was tough to get a picture of the plaque because thousands of tourists a day tromp over the spot.
Savonarola was a Domenican friar, a persuasive speaker who captured the Florentines’ imagination with his visions and prophecies. The upper class Florentines were living pretty well. Their banking and merchant economy gave a whole lot more of them money to spend on jewelry and art. Not to mention those great Renaissance clothes.
However, there were pesky problems. The recurring plague, unrest within the city, and that annoying Charles VIII of France who had invaded Italy and was threatening Florence. A lot to worry about.
The way to power and riches, my uncle used to say, is to “create a fear and provide the solution.” Savonarola did not have to create the fears—they already existed. But he did have the solution. If the Florentines wanted to stay safe, they needed God’s protection. The way to achieve that was to repent of their lavish lifestyles, their vanities like jewelry and mirrors and art. He began to encourage Florence’s citizens to bring their luxuries to the big public square known as the Piazza della Signoria and to throw them into a fire—a bonfire of the vanities.
This portrait was made the year he died. A dark guy with a dark story.
If they would do this, Savonarola promised, God would forgive the Florentines all their sins and bless the city as never before. Florence would be the New Jerusalem, the center of Christianity, “richer, more powerful, more glorious than ever”. Did anyone mark the irony that he asked them to burn their vanities so they could grow richer? It was the ultimate “Health and Wealth Gospel” combined with a puritanical asceticism.
Savonarola created what we call today a “cult.” His followers were called Piagnoni or “weepers.” (Probably, they were thinking about their lost stuff.) He indoctrinated Florence’s youth and organized boys and young men to patrol the streets to curb immodest dress and behavior. He himself assumed more and more power. A political party comprised of his followers controlled the city.
The purpose of this post is not to make any judgments about any form of religion or faith. (Well, okay, maybe I’m not too convinced by Savonarola.) But the truth is that many, many people have moved away from the doctrines in which they were raised or in which they once strongly believed. This is a powerful thread in many memoirs and an important part of many people’s journeys.
So I’m very happy that one of the speakers at our online Memoir Summit will be Ruth Wariner, author of the book The Sound of Gravel, a memoir about growing up as the thirty-ninth of her father’s forty-two children in a polygamist family in rural Mexico.
Maybe your story is not as dramatic as Ruth’s. But rethinking your faith as you grow up and older is a common thing to do. The Florentines did. They decided they didn’t believe Savonarola. Drunk on his own vision of himself as a great prophet, he began to hint that he could work miracles but never provided any. Plus the pope, who had tried at first to reign in Savonarola, finally excommunicated him and threatened all of Florence if they didn’t stop harboring him. Undoubtedly, this threw a lot of people into a moral dilemma.
Finally, in the great spirit of excess for which this period of time is known, if they weren’t going to burn their vanities, the Florentines decided they’d just burn Savonarola. (I am comforted to know that they hung him first.) Maybe they were annoyed more at themselves for falling for his line and tossing that original Botticelli into the flames. (It’s thought by some scholars that Botticelli, himself a follower of Savonarola’s, burned some of his own paintings.)
Savonarola’s execution in the same piazza where he had held his bonfires of the vanities.
A lot of Savonarola’s story is a cautionary tale about mass hysteria and the way people can get caught up in a crowd mentality and an emotional frenzy. Savonarola was hot at the height of his popularity and hot at the end of it, and there had to have been people who were part of the mob at both times. The thing about dogma is that it relieves you of any personal responsibility. You just do as you’re told.
But within that population, there must also have been some thoughtful people, struggling to find some truth that made sense. And doubtless among those children indoctrinated by Savonarola, there were some who grew up to see the inconsistency in his thinking and his actions, but who still carried that emotional baggage and the need to unpack it.
Ok, this is a little scary.
This is the stuff of memoir. In fact, when I first started the Village Writing School, this was the most popular topic among people coming to our workshops. Whether they were writing straight-up memoir or disguising their feelings in a novel, the evolution of faith in some direction or another, ran through many stories.
Faith is the perfect topic for a memoir because it is both highly personal and of universal concern. A memoir might reflect a faith journey (toward or away from), a crisis of faith, or even a bonfire of the vanities, for there are many ways to renounce our treasures. When you think about your story, what part, if any, does religion play?
Finding our stories . . . and ourselves.
–Alison