They argued so much. That was my overriding impression of the early church when I saw the book of Acts on a movie screen for the first time. All churches have disagreements, they always have. But when the arguing turns to strife, watch out.
Two recent experiences brought this to mind. The first was when something I said was met with criticism (say you are shocked). But it wasn’t the disagreement that surprised me; it was the sharpness of it. There seemed little charity and instead harshness and even enmity. It was out of all proportion to both the words and the context.
The second came when I chose to reascend the great mountain of Dante’s Divine Comedy. Like all truly great works, it always repays greatly upon its rereading.
One scene from The Inferno struck me more than all the others this time. It is a harrowing portrayal of a disagreement gone wrong.
When he gets to near the very bottom of hell, Dante meets a man whose name is Ugolino who tells him his story. He was the city manager of Pisa, placed there by Ruggieri, the archbishop. Ugolino was a Guelf, and Ruggieri was a Ghibeline. The Guelf-Ghibeline battle was literally devouring Italy at the time, and the two formed a secret alliance from opposite sides.
The deal was simple. Ruggieri the archbishop would name Ugolino as city manager of Pisa, and in return Ugolino would undermine the Guelf control of the area from the inside and gain authority for the archbishop. It was a plot to seize power and betray the city of Pisa.
What happened is a devastating story of betrayal, counter-betrayal, and treachery. Almost immediately after Ruggieri gives Ugolino his new position, the archbishop realizes he has made a mistake. He then seeks to undermine the very person he has just named to his new position. Ugolino recognizes what is occurring and retaliates.
The brutal battle gets so bad between them that eventually Ugolino is captured by the archbishop and, along with his descendants, imprisoned in a tower. Then one day, at the time when they normally receive their food, Ugolino hears the door of the room being nailed shut. He now knows he and his offspring will be slowly starved to death.
As time wears on Ugolino starts eating his hands out of hunger, and his offsping offer to allow him to eat them instead. In agony he refuses. After four days, one son throws himself with outstretched hands at his father’s feet begging for help. Ugolino then tells us what happens next:
There he died; and, as thou seest me,
I saw the three fall, one by one,
between
The fifth day and the sixth; whence
I betook me,Already blind, to groping over each,
And three days called them after
they were dead;
Then hunger did what sorrow could
not do.
What did hunger do? Dante depicts here a man who in total desperation devours his own children’s dead flesh so as to sustain himself just a little while longer. In the context it is clear that as he is eating, his life has become nothing more than focusing on his hatred of, and desire for vengeance upon, the archbishop who betrayed him.
And what is Ugolino doing when Dante meets him in hell? He is gnawing upon the head of Ruggieri. Both men are encased in ice up to their necks.
Beneath every disagreement is the possibility of enmity and strife that can kill. Saint Paul knew that, which is one reason he pleaded for his readers to “put on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make no provision for the flesh, to gratify its desires.” Dante knew it too, which is why he provides his shocking portrayal of Ugolino and Ruggieri in hell.
I am praying that we may relearn it so as not to become encased in icy hearts seeking to devour others.
— The Rev. Canon Dr. Kendall S. Harmon is Canon Theologian of the Diocese of South Carolina and Convenor of this blog
