The
sphere of the sun is so rich; there is so much I could discuss. First of all it's a dividing line in the
organization of paradise. Dante makes it
clear with a sort of new preamble. Those
inward from the sphere of sun (that is the moon, Mercury, Venus) contain souls
who had some sort of limitation from full completeness. At the sun and then beyond, all souls are
complete, and so there is actually no hierarchy, just diversity. Is there a hierarchy for those inward from
the sun? It's not spelled out but the
further one gets away from the earth, the less distinct the souls features
become. Dante (the character) can almost
make out Piccarda's features at the moon.
Less so for those at Mercury and even less at Venus. Once he reaches the sun, the souls are just
pure light. That would suggest some sort
of hierarchy.
But
if you think of it this way, the light emanating from the sun is so intense
that it obliterates all detail of feature, and the further away from the sun
the more detail is possible. The moon is
the furthest away, so Dante (the character) can almost make out Piccarda's
features. So perhaps there isn't a
hierarchy, distance from the sun. That
would make a two part hierarchy, those before the sun and those from the sun
and after. I'm not sure which of these
two possibilities Dante is suggesting.
Also,
the sunlight causes shadows, and, though we don't have any mention of shadows,
there is a metaphoric shadow, the limitations on the souls in from the
sun. But this only works in one
direction, toward the earth. We can see
the souls at the moon, Mercury, and Venus as casting a shadow, their
limitation. Behind the sun is the same
intense light as at the sun. Shadows are
obliterated.
So
at the sun, we have a major division, and it's noteworthy that it's in the
tenth canto. In Inferno, Dante entered
the City of Dis at the tenth canto. In
Purgatorio, Dante entered purgatory proper at that tenth canto. All three cantica have a divisional
transition at the tenth canto. I have
said how integrated is the Divine Comedy.
Here is another example.
At
the sphere of the sun, there are five prominent characters not including Dante
and Beatrice. There is St. Thomas
Aquinas, St. Bonaventure, Solomon, and though they are only described, St.
Francis of Assisi and St. Dominic de Guzman, both founders of respective orders
and perhaps the preeminent saints of the middle ages. The sphere of the sun are for the souls who
were paragons of wisdom, either through learning-as seen with the souls in the
first garland-or through mysticism-as seen with those in the second
garland.
St.
Thomas is the principal representative of the sphere of the sun, and we know of
his great effort at absorbing all knowledge into his Summa Theologica. Hollander points out a fascinating parallel,
the very first word that Thomas speaks is "Quando," and it's placed
as the last word of a line. Back in
Inferno, the character whose very first word was also "Quando" and
also oddly placed as the last word of a line was Ulysses (see
Inf.XXVI.90). Did I mention how
incredibly integrated is La Commedia?
Indeed, both characters were people who strove for total knowledge,
knowledge of all things in the universe.
They are two characters of same coin.
But
while Ulysses strove only for his own prideful self, Thomas accumulated
knowledge to preach the divine Word. He
strove for no personal honors, and so notice his humility when he speaks. He calls himself a "lamb" when we
know he was nicknamed an ox. When he goes
through his catalogue of saints in the first garland, he puts himself
second. He gives deference to his
"brother and teacher" Albert the Great and to the founder of his
order, St. Dominic. He doesn't say that
he is the greatest of the lights at the sun, but another, Solomon.
Thomas
the Dominican goes on to delineate the virtues of St. Francis of Assisi. Thomas's central point of St. Francis is that
he was the lover of Lady Poverty, and the personification is significant. Indeed, at one point it sounds like almost a
sexual union, "he joined himself to her" (XI.62). When Francis marries Lady Poverty, she is a
widow, her first husband being Jesus Christ.
In embracing Lady Poverty like a bride, Francis has restored virtue to a
church that had become too worldly.
As
a complement to Thomas, St. Bonaventure, the Franciscan, goes on to laud the
virtues of St. Dominic. St. Dominic is
portrayed as taking Lady Faith as his love and bride, and, as a knight fighting
for his lady fair, combats the heresies that taint the virtue of Lady
Faith. He too seems joined in sexual
union ("amorous lover of the Christian faith") with his lady. By embracing Lady Faith, Dominic has restored
has restored truth to the church, traveling "through the vineyard/which
quickly withers if the keeper is corrupt" (l. 86-87). The other controlling metaphor in describing
Dominic is that of a paladin.
'Then, both with learning
and with zeal,
secure in apostolic
office, he went forth,
like a torrent gushing
from its lofty source,
'and fell upon the
tangled weeds of heresy,
attacking with his
overwhelming force
wherever the resistance
was most stubborn. (XII.97-102)
Hollander
points out, and I agree, that Dante (the author) goes overboard with this
imagery of militarism. He says that St.
Dominic was "gentle to his own and savage to his foes" (l.57). Unfortunately the average person knows a lot
less about St. Dominic than St. Francis.
St. Dominic was a gentle soul, hardly savage. One of the first stories about St. Dominic is
how he converted an innkeeper. The
innkeeper followed the Albigensian heresy, and when St. Dominic found out
stayed up all night conversing with the man, and by the break of morning, the
Innkeeper had converted to doctrinal faith.
It has been said Dominic "befriended" an order, meaning his
order grew by his ability to embrace people in friendship. There was no sense of fighting in anything he
did that I know of. Either Dante was
under a wrong impression or he takes his metaphor too far.
This
crisscrossing of Dominican praising a Franciscan and a Franciscan praising a
Dominican is a wonderful touch. It was
said that at this time the two orders were rivals and some bad blood had
developed between the two. I don't know
if that is true, but it sounds correct.
Dante (the author) ends each of the two discourses on the two founding
saints in a similar way. The Dominican,
who has been praising Francis, points out how untrue the Dominicans of today
(Dante's day) have become. And the
Franciscan, who has been praising Dominic, speaks of how the Franciscans of the
day have lapsed from the rule. Dante
(the author) as his custom throughout the Commedia highlights a degeneration
from an ideal height to his day. If the
two orders were quarreling, neither could claim the moral high ground.
It
should be pointed out that Dante (the author) was a Lay Franciscan but one who
was a great admirer of St. Thomas Aquinas.
Indeed, the whole Divine Comedy owes so much to Thomistic thought. Obviously he had read much of St. Thomas'
work. He places St. Thomas as the
central character under the sphere of the sun, and though St. Thomas says that
Solomon is the brightest light, we can see that Thomas is the pinnacle of the
sphere.
The
two garlands of saints is such a wonderful image. It suggests a laurel wreath placed on a
hero's head. The twelve blessed in each
ring suggest the twelve apostles. The
two wreaths heighten a couplet imagery than runs in this section: Thomas and
Bonaventure, Francis and Dominic, learning and mysticism, spirit and
flesh. The couplets could all fit the
metaphor of two wheels of a single chariot (XII.106), the chariot being the
Church. At the end, shattering the
duality that has prevailed, Dante (the author) brings in a third set of
lights.
And just as, at the
approach of evening,
new lights begin to show
throughout the sky,
so faint they seem both
real and yet unreal,
it seemed to me that I
began to see
new subsistences there
that formed a ring
beyond the other two
circumferences.
Ah, true incandescence of
the Holy Breath!
How suddenly its glowing
shone before me,
so bright my eyes could
not endure it! (XIV.70-78)
The
third ring is analogized as being formed like the Holy Spirit is formed, that
is as a function of the love between the Father and the Son. The wreaths are now a Trinity! But who would reside in the third
wreath? Hollander provides a couple of
theories but there is nothing conclusive.
I personally like the thought that Christ's twelve apostles reside in
that third ring.
###
Some
random thoughts on these cantos.
A
motif that’s been running through the entire Paradiso is that of the souls dancing. I think it’s been noted at every sphere so
far. We see here at the opening of Canto
XII when the second wreath approaches the first and “matches it motion for
motion and song for song” (l.6) But what
is the nature of this dance? I think we
get more detail further down:
When the dance and all
the other celebration --
the singing and the
brilliant blaze of flames,
light with light blent in
ardent joy –
came to a stop together
and of one accord,
as eyes, when beauty
moves them,
must open wide or close
as one,
from the core of one of
these new lights,
as the north star makes a
compass needle veer,
rose a voice that made me
turn to where it came from. (XII.22-30)
The
dancers “match motion for motion,” and come “to a stop together of one accord”
like a pair of eyes must open and shut together. What a brilliant simile. Eyes move in unison. All the motion of the dance is in
unison. Medieval dancing was not like
disco dancing where everyone moves to their personal rhythm, or even couples
dancing where each couple differently than another. Here we have twenty-four spirits dancing in
unison. I picture it more like the
Olympic sport, synchronized swimming, where everyone performs the same motion
in harmony.
The
Holy Spirit is a strong presence in these cantos. Dante starts with the Holy Spirit in the
opening lines of Canto X, “Gazing on His Son with the Love/the One and the
Other eternally breathe forth” (l.1-2) and ends with the Holy Spirit as the
third garland suddenly comes forth from the splendor of the other two. Well, that would make sense since the Holy
Spirit is associated with wisdom.
A
motif that runs through this section is that of begetting and fertility. From Canto X:
So brilliant the fourth
family of the highest Father,
who forever gives it
satisfaction, shone,
revealing how He breathes
and how begets. (l.49-51)
The
“fourth family” refers to the fourth sphere, the sun, who the Father pleases by
showing how the Holy Spirit (breathes) and how he creates. I also think there is a pun here on the
Father’s direct and indirect creation.
He breathes life in Adam (direct creation) but has created the means for
populating the world, indirectly creating life through begetting. And when St. Thomas first speaks later in the
canto, he refers to love as being “increased” and “multiplied in you”
(l.84-85). “Multiplied” echoes Genesis
command to go out and multiply.
We
see the fertility imagery with the saints Francis and Dominic, each married to
their Lady, and begetting virtue and faith in the Church. We see fertility of the garden—both Francis
and Dominic are referred to as gardeners, growing fruit and crops for the sheep
to fatten on.
Ingesting
food to fatten is another motif that runs here.
Francis, for instance, finds the Muslims (those under the Sultan)
“unripe for conversion” while he returns “to reap the harvest of Italian
fields” (XI.106). Dante even has Solomon
speak in these cantos, echoing his Song of Solomon (XIV.37-60), which describes
a physical love. All these motifs seem
to coordinate together. Physical love
leads to begetting, which is an indirect creation, which require proper
ingesting of the harvest, both physical and spiritual, which require Francis
and Dominic to lead them to heaven where eventually they will reunite with
their flesh. And while on earth in their
earthly flesh, they will need a wise ruler—Solomon being the wisest—to rule
them so they don’t need to scatter like lost sheep. This is Dante (the author) painting a picture
of Edenic ideal.
I
loved the way the souls jump for joy at the thought of the return of the
flesh.
As, impelled and drawn by
heightened joy,
dancers in a round may
raise their voices,
their pleasure showing in
their movements,
so, at that eager and
devout appeal,
the holy circles showed
new joy in wheeling
as well as in their
wondrous song. (XIV.19-24)
And
then they go one to sing a song of praise to the Trinity. I think we today have become much more
gnostic in that we emphasize the spirit over the flesh. Perhaps this is a reaction to the today’s
secular emphasis on pleasure, but Christianity properly understood is a union
of the flesh and spirit. This is why in
these passages Dante alludes to the Annunciation, the moment Christ became
man. And this is why Solomon is so
important. He was the wisest ruler who
guided fleshly beings, a ruler who properly combined the spiritual with the
material.
That
image of what souls will be like when their flesh returns is spectacular:
But like a coal that
shoots out flame
and in its glowing center
still outshines it
so that it does not lose
its own appearance,
'just so this splendor
that enfolds us now
will be surpassed in
brightness by the flesh
that earth as yet still
covers. (XIV.49-54)
The
flesh will be like a piece of coal that is burning hot, the glow permeating the
material. Wow!
At
the end of Canto XIII, Thomas Aquinas in chastising rash judgement, recalls a
ship.
and once I saw a ship,
which had sailed straight
and swift upon the sea
through all its voyage,
sinking at the end as it
made its way to port. (136-138)
That’s
an allusion to Ulysses who back in Inferno,
recounts his final, disastrous journey where he sinks his ship and crew. Not only is Thomas contrasted against Ulysses
but so is Solomon, who is prudent, not rash, and who governed well so that his
people did not perish.
The
closing image in Canto X of the heavens as a “glorious wheel in motion” fits
the harmony of the universe and the creator, and fits the aesthetics of the
entire Commedia. Dante compares it to a clock with cogs
pulling wheels and driving others, “chiming its ting-ting with notes so sweet”
(139-148). Hollander points out that
this may be the first reference to a clock in all of literature.
I
should point out the Cristo rhymes. In
all of Inferno, the name of Christ is
never spoken. I think he was referred to
indirectly. The name of Christ comes up
in Purgatorio, but never at the end
of a line. If it comes up at the end of
a line, it needs to be rhymed. Hollander
points out that in a previous work Dante rhymed Cristo with tristo (distraught) and malo acquisto (ill-gotten gains) and in
retrospect it left a bad taste in his mouth.
But what then to rhyme Cristo with?
Dante solves it here by rhyming Cristo only with itself.
'He was called Dominic,
and I shall speak of him
as that laborer chosen by
Christ
to help Him dress and
keep His garden.
'He seemed indeed a
messenger and intimate of Christ,
since the first affection
manifest in him
was for the initial
precept taught by Christ. (XII.71-75)
You
can check the corresponding Italian.
Dante does this four times in Paradiso:
XIV.104-108, XIX.104-108, and XXXII.83-87.
Finally
I should note that St. Thomas Aquinas’ complement is St. Bonaventure. St. Bonaventure is probably the Franciscan
Order’s greatest intellectual saint and was a fellow teacher with Thomas at the
University in Paris. He wrote a work
called The Journey of the Mind into God. It’s supposed to be one of the great works of
mysticism, and perhaps was the inspiration for the entire Commedia. As we see
throughout the Divine Comedy, Dante
(the character) is on a journey into God.
It’s only 60-ish pages. We should
read this in the book club one day.
I’m
going to have to end it here. This is
getting long. I didn’t even discuss the
saints included in the two catalogues of saints. I said this was a rich section.
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