The Piazza Limbo, Florence
Chiese di Santi Apostoli © A. Harrison
A city as old as Florence has so many layers of age, a patina of history and culture laid down over centuries. Before Julius Caesar granted the farmland around the Arno to his retiring soldiers, the Etruscans had settled in Fiesole and the surrounding valley, with evidence of a pre-Roman settlement around Florence. Since the birth of the Christian era, traders and pilgrims, kings and emperors, armies, and tourists have flocked to Firenze.
I love walking along the Arno and then diving into the back streets just near the Ponte Vecchio. The roads here are narrow and winding, following the line of the old Roman Port. They also reflect a forgotten corner of theology.
During Medieval times babies who died without receiving the Sacrament of Baptism could not be buried in the consecrated grounds of a church. As they were too young to have sinned (I’m not sure of the age cut off here!), their souls weren’t condemned to Purgatory to atone for their sins, but instead spent the time waiting until the Final Judgement in Limbo.
A tondo on the Ospedale degli Innocenti, where unwanted babies were once left © A. Harrison
Walking from the Piazza Sante Trinite to the Santi Apostoli, it’s noticeable how much lower the cobblestones of the Piazza Limbo are to the surrounding streets. The piazza is named for the unbaptised babes buried here, outside the Chiese di Santi Apostoli. My heart aches for those parents who were not even allowed to grieve their babies over a proper grave.
The church’s age is apparent in that it lies so much lower than the road — indeed, Charlemagne is said to have laid the foundations in 786 AD. A plaque in the courtyard marks the height the Arno reached during the floods of 1966.
In his ‘Inferno’, Dante placed the likes of Plato and Socrates here, along with other ‘virtuous’ pagans and philosophers. Yet by 1992, when the Catholic Church published its official catechism, there was no mention of the place. I’m not sure where these ‘virtuous’ philosophers, along with the babies, have vanished in this theological conundrum.
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May I suggest my novel:
The God’s Themselves:
A monk with writer's blog.
Death returns from stress leave.
A peasant who preaches silently after flying to Heaven.
An illiterate knight bears book with a new numeral.
An angel who carves statues.
Just an average day in Medieval France.
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