By Isabel Pellegrino
My apartment used to be a convent dating back to the 15th century. I can’t help but wonder about the way the nuns lived here. I wish I was able to go back in time to better understand their lives and how they perceived Florence and its future.
I wish I had been in Firenze when nuns gathered in my apartment’s kitchen. In the 15th century, my apartment was a convent. It is hard to picture this space as home to a religious community. While I try to embrace the Italian culture in all of it’s beauty and class, I am not sure the way I live could ever be compared to the grace of a Renaissance nunnery. Yet, here I am. Through an old wooden door, rod iron gates and a few flights of stone stairs, you will find us cooking and practicing our Italian; sometimes we feel like it’s the best we can do to connect with those who occupied this space before us.
During the 15th century, Florentine convents were evolving from small communities to large institutions, according to historian Sharon T. Strocchia in her book “Nuns and Nunneries in Renaissance Florence.” It became common practice for highly- educated unmarried women to congregate in convents. As a result, nunneries became hubs for research, academic dialogue and political influence. As I sit at the kitchen counter of my apartment, I dream of traveling back in time to speak with these women. I can see them now gathering around tables with their noses in books and crosses around their necks. Question after question would flow from me: What is it like to be women leaders of a religion often dominated by men? What do you see your legacy as? What does Firenze mean to you and your faith? How can I honor your lives in my time?
But more than anything else, I wish I had the chance to roam the Florentine streets with them and see the city through their perspective. In the midst of the Renaissance, I wonder how they felt about the art and how it influenced their faith. I wonder if they had any idea of what the convent space would become in the centuries afterwards. While I will never have a time machine during my fleeting few months in Italy, my roommates and I have pledged to take time every day to be grateful for our apartment and our lives in Italy. When we sit around our dinner table and discuss culture, religion, politics and philosophy, it’s almost as if we have been transported back in time by the everlasting art of conversation. I like to imagine the nuns doing exactly this, just centuries ago. Our apartment bridges our times together. So maybe, we aren’t all that disconnected after all.
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