that used deductive logic, the Breviloquium was not typical of the theological treatises of its era. Bonaventure forewent the quaestio method he employed in his Sentence Commentary, and penned instead a cogent and authoritative treatise that invited neither debate nor argument.42
While the Breviloquium is not a work of exegesis per se, the authority of Bonaventure’s authorial voice emerges from his assumption that he is presenting the essential wisdom of Christian scripture, rather than engaging in a kind of specific philosophical or theological inquiry. Scripture, Bonaventure points out in his prologue, is not restricted (coarctatus) by reason or philosophical condition. Rather, it deals with every aspect of the universe pertinent to salvation.43 While modern readers might see salvation as a limiting factor to philosophical discussions, this was not the case among Bonaventure’s contemporaries—at least in theory. Bonaventure elsewhere was quite caustic in regard to philosophical speculation, especially Aristotelian philosophical speculation, which had no spiritual aims, though he was happy to employ Aristotelian logic and principles when useful.
Fortunately for this discussion, the creation of the physical world did pertain to salvation, and hence makes up the subject of the second part of the Breviloquium. After dealing succinctly with any possible opinions contrary to the notion that God made the universe from nothing (an argument against Aristotle’s claim that the cosmos was eternal), Bonaventure proceeds to outline the six days, listing the things created on each (day 1, light; day 2, firmament; day 3, separation of the waters to make land; day 4, heaven adorned with celestial bodies; day 5, air and water filled with birds and fish respectively; day 6, the land gets animals and human beings). Bonaventure is keen to note that the six days allow for many groupings of threes, which he regards as a sign of the Trinity.44 The religious symbolism, however, does not detract from his focus on the physical description of the cosmos, but rather relies on it. “The creation of the world is like a kind of book, in which the Trinity, its artificer, shines forth, is represented, and is read.”45 Bonaventure regards the world not merely as a creation to be praised, but as a manifestation of God.46
In the Breviloquium, Bonaventure reads the book of the world quite literally. Having detailed the six days, Bonaventure describes the present world schematically, by creating a series of subdivisions. The first division is between the heavenly (caelesti) and the terrestrial (elementari). Heaven he subdivides into, not surprisingly, “three principal (tres principales)” categories, the empyrean, the crystalline, and the firmament. This does not include the starry heaven, which is somewhat awkwardly tacked on to the “principal” categories, until he promptly divides it into seven parts for the seven planets. Therefore, when Bonaventure later states that the world is perfectly ordered, part of his argument rests on the implicit correspondence between significant Christian numbers and the observable world. Bonaventure also notes the traditional four elements as terrestrial spheres. His discussion of the elements is interesting, for even though the elements are changeable and prone to degradation, Bonaventure notes that they too are part of the perfect order as they allow for a diversity of forms to exist.47
Bonaventure is particularly concerned about the relationship between heaven and earth, which he understands to be mediated by the planets. Therefore, like Peter Abelard before him, Bonaventure uses his reading of Genesis to make some statements about astrology. While Bonaventure objects to the concept of fate, he does hold that the seven planets correspond to the three heavens and the four elements.48 The effect of celestial bodies on the terrestrial world is his focus here. Celestial influences, according to Bonaventure, affect “the production of generable and of corruptible things, such as minerals, plants, sentient creatures and human beings.”49 The relationship between the celestial and the terrestrial will be discussed in much more detail in the following chapter, but here it demonstrates Bonaventure’s attention to the “facts” of the observable world, as well as to the meaning of the structure of the cosmos.
While it might seem that Bonaventure is traveling fairly far afield from Genesis, it is quite clear that he understands Genesis to lead to and perhaps require a natural philosophic analysis. Reading the Book of the World to find the vestiges of God requires examining the world in detail, not simply overlooking the physical in favor of the spiritual. Perhaps sensing this objection, he turns in the fifth chapter of the Breviloquium to a discussion of how we arrive at a discussion of natural philosophy even if the Bible itself does not tell us about “the distinction of the spheres, nor the heavens, nor the elements.”50 While he goes on at some length to answer the question, the basic upshot is that scripture ought to be understood in comparison to the Book of the World. Scripture, for Bonaventure, is about the revelation of Christ and his teaching. It is redemptive or repairing. The Book of the World, namely creation, is a book about the Father, the Creator. Thus, scripture includes only what readers need to know about redemption, and should not be seen as somehow closing off knowledge of the world. Scripture is sufficient, but not all-encompassing.51
The Book of the World, however, is mostly closed, according to Bonaventure. While the order of the created world might once potentially have led human beings to the divine (as it did in the Garden), postlapsarian human beings are not so fortunate.52 In his Collations on the Six Days, a treatise where creation serves a metaphorical purpose, Bonaventure is quite clear that people cannot simply observe nature and know God, that is, there is no sense of any kind of natural religion.53 Bonaventure argues, then, that the role of scripture is to begin to repair what was lost to human beings at the fall, namely, their “eye of contemplation (oculum contemplationis)” as Hugh of St. Victor called it.54 God endowed humanity at creation with an eye of flesh, an eye of reason, and an eye of contemplation. The eye of flesh allows people to see around them; this is the literal function of an eye. The eye of reason is what allows one to see inside oneself, that is, to think. The eye of contemplation, however, is what allows the other kinds of eyes to look heavenward in an anagogical sense. With the contemplative faculty damaged after the fall, the physical world can be seen, described, catalogued, and theorized, but it does not ultimately lead, as it should, to the manifestation of God.55 Through recalling the beauty and goodness of God, scripture (along with grace) aids in the repair of the senses, so that the science of creation reveals its author.56
What Bonaventure adds to the Franciscan understanding of nature is a sense that the kind of immediate sacrality felt by Francis in his apprehension of God in creation can also emerge through reason, philosophy, and theology. It is implied that the saintly Francis was able to read the Book of the World, and immediately see its truth. Bonaventure’s path is more deliberate, but it embraces every kind of knowledge about the natural world that leads to the divine. The four elements and three heavens are not biblical in origin, yet to the Christian who also reads the scriptures, they can be seen to refer to the seven days of creation, or (in the case of the heavens) to the Trinity. That said, natural philosophy is not an end in itself. Even when it leads to knowledge of the Creator, it is not the highest kind of knowledge. Bonaventure reserves that for the kind of mystical union discussed in the earlier part of this chapter. Bonaventure’s distinct celebration of the natural world, however, would resonate in the next generation of Franciscan scholars. We turn now to one of those, Peter Olivi.
Creation as a Mirror of the Trinity: Peter of John Olivi
Peter of John Olivi’s reputation has grown recently, thanks to a great deal of scholarly work that has more firmly established the context of his life and thought. In particular, scholars such as David Burr, David Flood, O.F.M., and Kevin Madigan have read Olivi in the context of his era rather than through the lens of later Spiritual Franciscans and fraticelli who appropriated his views. Olivi is now considered one of the premier intellects of the Franciscan Order at the end of the thirteenth century. The marginalization of his ideas was a product of historical contingency rather than a reflection on their relative merit. Olivi’s allegiance to the exegetical methods (and apocalyptic fears and hopes) of twelfth-century abbot Joachim of Fiore certainly had much to do with opposition to his ideas in his own
