“COVID and the Anti-Vaxxers”
“Covid and Anti-Vaxers”
JK, this is a 13th century picture of Hell from the Florence Baptistry. Europe has experienced many plagues and epidemics over the centuries—and in the Middle Ages (before they had the miracle of vaccines), they believed it was the wrath of God or Satan making their lives miserable. They had no science to ignore—unlike today, when many in our society insist on bringing this avoidable misery upon our community.
Back then, life was “nasty, brutish, and short,” leading medieval people to obsess about the afterword: Shall I go to heaven or hell? And this mosaic made it clear what the fate of the wicked would be. You will be sent to Hell, where souls are eaten by horned ogres, bitten by snakes, harassed by spock-eared demons, and roasted in eternal flames.
The Baptistery of Florence is older than this 13th century mosaic. Built on top of Roman foundations, it is the city’s oldest surviving building – nearly 1,000 years old. The baptistery is famous for its bronze Renaissance doors (including Ghiberti’s “Gates of Heaven”), but its interior still retains a medieval feel. It is dark and mysterious, topped with an octagonal dome of golden mosaics of angels and biblical scenes.
Dominating all this is the Mosaic of Resurrection. Christ sits on a throne, extends his arms, and gives the final thumbs-up and thumbs-down. The righteous go to heaven, the rest go to hell.
Of course, in medieval times no one knew what hell was. Even the Bible lacks specification, describing only a place that is dark, underground, fiery, unpleasant, eternal, and separate from the realm of the blessed.
The mission of the artists who did this mosaic: to bring Hell to life. It is a chaotic world of dismembered corpses, slithering snakes and licking flames. In the center sits a bull-headed monster, with arms outstretched like Christ’s demonic doppelganger. He pounces on one poor soul, grabs the next path with his hands, and stalks two more souls, while snakes emerge from his ears and tail to grab more prey.
Such graphic details were important in pre-Renaissance times. We see the beast’s six-pack abs, braided beard, and frilly red dress that echoes with flickering flames. The damned have natural poses—crouching, twisting, gesturing—and their anguished faces tell a sad tale of eternal torment.
The realism of this mosaic proved highly influential to Proto-Renaissance artists such as Giotto, and the building itself inspired Renaissance architects such as Brunelleschi. And shortly after the mosaic was completed, a young child named Dante Alighieri was immersed in the baptismal font right below it. Dante was well aware of this hellish scene. When he wrote his epic poem, Inferno (“Hell”), he described it with the same vivid scenery: grim scenery, hordes of naked ruffians, a minotaur in the middle, etc. Dante’s drawings inspired other artists over the centuries (such as Giotto and Signorelli) who created altarpieces, paintings, novels and illustrations across Europe. It shaped the imaginations of people around the world. And much of it can be traced back to Florence’s baptistery, and the anonymous artists who labored here in the 13th century, determined to give them hell.
