Franciscan nonsense. Benigni contradicted by Giotto on ‘diplomacy’ and by the history of Manichaean Christianity

The Basilica of Santa Croce in Florence is well known to Roberto Benigni, who, from the churchyard, recited and taught his interpretation of Dante to the (television) audience. However, a few details of art and history preserved behind him may well have escaped the great Franciscan preacher’s notice. The Bardi Chapel, to the left of the high altar, featuring the ‘Stories of St Francis’ frescoed by Giotto twenty years after his time in Assisi, has recently been reopened following a major restoration. One of the episodes in the cycle is entitled ‘The Trial by Fire before the Sultan’ and tells a story somewhat different from Benigni’s trivialisation – and, to tell the truth, not just his: ‘He is the man of firsts; he invented diplomacy’. On the right is Francis, standing before a crackling fire. In the centre, seated on his throne, is Sultan Al-Malik al-Kamil, who with one hand orders his priests to accept the Poverello’s challenge and step into the fire with him: whoever survives the ordeal and does not burn will have proven that theirs is the true faith in the true God – such was Francis’s proposal. To the left of the scene, the Sultan’s wise men are fleeing. So much for diplomacy.

“When Blessed Francis, for the sake of his faith in Christ, wished to enter a great fire alongside the priests of the Sultan of Babylon; but none of them wished to enter with him, and immediately they all fled from his sight”, as St Bonaventure writes precisely. It is known that the Sultan did not convert, but showed respect for that poor Christian, to quote Silone. The aim of that journey overseas was not to negotiate peace or a truce, but to proclaim the Gospel for the conversion of the Sultan and the Muslims. Furthermore, as Antonio Musarra explains in his book Il mondo secondo Francesco d’Assisi—one of the most up-to-date studies on the subject—the Poverello, as a man of his time, was not even opposed to the idea of the Crusades, whose penitential aspect he also recognised. Reducing his adventure to pacifism and diplomacy is therefore somewhat simplistic; but ultimately, this fault lies less with Benigni than with many others – politicians and non-politicians alike – who try to turn that great journey (not to the Holy Land, but to Egypt) into a ‘prophetically’ political affair.

The scene depicting the clothes being thrown in the father’s face is also a little slapdash. The story probably unfolded in a less colourful manner: the decision to take such a dramatic step was reached gradually, meaning first and foremost a departure from civil jurisdiction, without any certainty of being accepted by the religious authorities. But even this, after all, is a venial sin, and on this occasion Benigni adheres faithfully to Bonaventure’s Legenda maior, the sanitised and authorised version of Francis’s biography.

What is surprising, however – and far more embarrassing – is a passage from the preview that Corriere published on Sunday of Benigni’s book, Il cantico, published by Einaudi Stile Libero. With his famously passionate fervour, Benigni says: “What do you mean, revolutionary? – you might ask – ‘Has no one ever thought of praising the world and all of creation?’. ‘No, it was the first time! It was an absolute novelty!’ Even the Pope at the time, Innocent III, had written a book entitled De contemptu mundi, which means: On the Contempt of the World.” Setting aside the fact that the author was in fact the future Innocent III – the Pope who approved the Rule of St Francis – the serious issue is that Benigni makes this far-fetched claim: “Because in Francis’s time it was believed that God was the creator of the spirit, whilst the devil was the creator of matter, and therefore also of the world. Writing a poem, as Francis had done, on the beauty of creation was like writing a poem on the beauty of the devil! In short, the Canticle was a veritable revolution.” Such a statement, however, is difficult to reconcile with the historical record.

As Antonio Socci noted on X, having read several of his books, the praise of all creatures was already present in the Song of the Three Young Men in the Fiery Furnace in the Book of Daniel, where the exhortation ‘bless’ appears some forty times and the word ‘Blessed’ (God) six times. Moreover, Jesus himself had taught that not even Solomon, in all his glory, was clothed like the lilies of the field, and that everything one eats is pure. It is important to note that the condemnation of the Docetist heresy, which despised the world, dates from the first century, while the excommunication of the Cathar heresy (which was followed by a tragic massacre: this was, after all, the Middle Ages), which despised matter, regarding it as originating from the evil principle, was issued by Pope Alexander III some decades earlier, in 1179. To disseminate such misinformation, portraying Christianity as the opposite of what it is and reducing it to a Manichaean heresy, is truly perplexing. It is also surprising that no one has corrected this error. Above all, Francis and his Canticle remain what they are precisely because they stand as the antithesis of the moralising tone on which Roberto Benigni relies; a style that preachers, not only those on television, are particularly fond of.