Although the European Middle Ages are often viewed as a period of intellectual stagnation, due to the malign influence of the Church, the reality is more complex. Indeed, despite the limits set by the Church, the medieval period can be characterized as one of considerable intellectual ferment. Indeed, as Nancy R. Pearcey and Charles B. Thaxton point out: "From the twelfth century on, the Western mind was stimulated by a progressive recovery of ancient texts. The first to become available was Aristotle's philosophy, which theologians struggled masterfully to incorporate into Christian philosophy" (The Soul of Science: Christian Faith and Natural Philosophy, p. 60).
One of the most influential ideas of Aristotle among medieval scholars was his doctrine of Forms. As Pearcey and Thaxton explain: "Aristotle concluded that all forms of motion or change (all natural processes, as we would say) are directed by a built-in goal or purpose--a so-called final cause, which he also called an object's Form" (p. 60). Medieval scholars attempting to integrate Aristotle's' philosophy into Christian theology "reinterpreted the Forms as God's purposes in nature, injected by God at creation" (p. 31). However, for some, Aristotle's notion of Forms, even if "Christianized," was problematic. Pearcey and Thaxton explain why:
The concept [of Forms] appeared to limit God's creative activity, as if God had to make due with the prescribed properties of matter. For example, some Christian Aristotelians argued that the "nature" of the heavens demanded circular motion by its inner law of rational necessity--as though God's hand were restrained by some inherent necessity in the structure of things. (p. 31).
In other words, due to the existence of the Forms, there were some things that even God could not do. Not surprisingly, this idea was seen by some, including churchmen, as a challenge to Christian orthodoxy.
Consequently, in his condemnation of 1277, Bishop Tempier rejected various theses derived from Aristotle's philosophy, including the notion that "God could not allow any form of planetary motion other than circular" (Pearcey and Thaxton, p. 31). Tempier's condemnation of Aristotelianism helped inspire a theological view known as voluntarism. For voluntarists, the laws of nature were not to be understood as Aristotelian Forms existing within nature but as divine commands imposed from outside of nature. That is to say, the laws of nature are not necessary, but contingent.
So, what does this controversy among medieval theologians have to do with modern science? According to Pearcey and Thaxton, "one of the most important consequences of voluntarist theology for science is that it helped to inspire and justify an experimental methodology. For if God created freely rather than by logical necessity, we cannot gain knowledge of [nature] by logical deduction (which traces necessary connections). Instead, we have to go out and look, to observe and experiment" (p. 32). And observation and experimentation are at the heart of modern science. This is illustrated by one of the most famous of the early modern scientists, Galileo. Rather than using reason to determine whether a ten-pound weight would fall more quickly than a one-pound weight, Galileo "dropped two balls from the leaning tower of Pisa and watched what happened. We cannot presume to know how God thinks, Galileo argued; we must go out and look at the world He created" (Pearcey and Thaxton, p. 34).
Note also that it was a debate among Christian philosophers and theologians that (arguably) led to the rise of modern science. Contrast this situation with that of Islam. On the one hand, like Christian scholars of the time, Muslim scholars in the Middle Ages were very conscious of the ideas of Aristotle and other ancient Greek thinkers. In fact, as social historian Rodney Stark tell us: "Throughout the centuries when Christian Europe knew virtually nothing of Greek learning, it was alive and deeply appreciated in Islam" (The Victory of Reason: How Christianity Led to Freedom, Capitalism, and Western Success, p. 21). On the other hand, the response of Muslim scholars to Aristotle differed somewhat from that of Christian scholars. While some became "intransigent and doctrinaire Aristotelians" (Stark, p. 21), others developed an Islamic version of voluntarism, arguing that everything in the universe occurs as a result of God's will. Notice, however, that this Islamic voluntarism differed from Christian voluntarism in that the former held that the universe operates through the direct intervention of God, while the latter held that God usually operates in the world indirectly through the natural laws He has established (but not always since miracles are still possible). Thus, in light of these differences between Islam and Christianity, it should not be surprising that modern science first emerged in the West and not the Islamic world.
In short, it can be argued that in trying to rein in what he viewed as heresy, Bishop Tempier unintentionally helped launch modern science. This is not to say that there were not other factors responsible for the emergence of science as we know it today. Nevertheless, it is certainly possible that modern science might not have emerged, or taken longer to emerge, had it not been for the bishop!
Postscript: It is also interesting that another one of the theses that Tempier condemned was the idea that the universe has always existed, in contrast with the orthodox Christian belief that the universe had a beginning. Given the findings of modern cosmology (think "the Big Bang"), it appears the bishop was right to reject view that the universe is eternal!
Image from integratedcatholiclife.org