Documenti di Didattica
Documenti di Professioni
Documenti di Cultura
The abyss
What is important here is not what is consciously presented to individuals, but
only what so extends the human consciousness that human existence with all its
light and dark sides can be affirmed and shaped, and the meaningfulness of life
can be experienced. (Wehr, 1995, p. 385)
Throughout the Christian era, images of the abyss traditionally have been
symbolic of hell, destruction, or death. Like the sea with which it is so often
linked, the abyss is an expression of our fear of annihilation. Yet, there is
something about the abyss, as there is about the sea that has a strange
attraction for us. That something has to do with origins, both physical and
spiritual.
Jacob Boehme and Carl Jung give witness to this layer of existence. It is
not so much the abyss of hell in the imagery of the Christian tradition that
they encounter as it is more the abyss as a symbol of a unitary reality. The
abyss of the objective unconscious for Jung, like the Ungrund for Boehme,
provides a window to eternity which leads through newly constellated
realities (the Self, and Christ) to the vision of something of the deep that
points beyond itself to a totally transcendent ultimacy.
For Boehme and Jung, the abyss is a realm outside of time and space that
Kathryn Wood Madden, Ph.D., Academic Dean, Blanton-Peale Institute Graduate Program in
Psychoanalysis and Pastoral Psychotherapy; Faculty and Supervisor; Associate Editor of the
Journal of Religion & Health; Diplomate of the American Association of Pastoral Counselors;
Member of the National Association for the Advancement of Psychoanalysis; co-editor of the Ann
Ulanov Festschrift. Dr. Madden is in private practice in New York City.
117
118
is accessible and real. Jung, with his concept of the psychoid layer, helps us to
see beyond our purely psychological beginnings, telling us that he has
even hazarded the postulate that the phenomenon of archetypal configurationswhich are psychic events par excellencemay be founded upon a psychoid base, that is, upon an only partially psychic and possibly altogether different form of being. (1963, p. 351)
Boehme, too, refers to something beyond what we would call the ego, beyond what Jung would identify as the objective unconscious, to the divine,
although he tends to equate the divine with the unconscious. Nonetheless,
what he is referring to suggests a movement of the ego to something positive,
real, and transformative.
While Boehme and Jung meet in these specific ways, there are also some
differences between them that distinguish them as theologian and as depth
psychologist. There remains, for Boehme, the 17th century shoemaker and
mystic, something ineffable in religious experience. At the other end of the
spectrum, Jung, a psychoanalyst steeped in the skeptical modernism of the
20th century, focuses upon manifestations in the clinical encounter, often
skipping over the subject of another layer of existence beyond the objective
unconscious altogether. He does talk, however, about God beyond the objective psyche and thinks we do have a soul that is related to deity that we are
capable of knowing.
119
proved to be watershed events, inspiring in Boehme the production of a lifelong opus of creative work.
Wisdoms child
Jacob Boehme was certainly not the first, nor clearly the last to have had a
vision of the abyss as something other than a hell mouth. As an example, a
vision of psychoanalyst Frances Wickes patient is stunning, even beautiful,
in its stark clarity and mythological feel:
I looked upon space and I beheld darkness. In that darkness moved mysterious
forces. Not like the gods of mans conceiving were they, but strange primeval
beings born before the gods of human form. They were hooded in darkness.
Through their fingers they drew the threads of blackness and ever wove them
back and forth. I saw the rays that they made like the rays that stream inward
from a many-pointed star or the converging of the lines of a many-sided crystal,
but these rays were not of light but of darkness, and the darkness seemed to
draw all things into it. Thus I knew that they were weaving a great void that
had no form nor boundaries. (Wickes, 1950, p. 245)
120
Upon completing his apprenticeship as a cobbler, Boehme began his journeyman travels throughout Upper Lusatia, observing a land torn by dissension,
party strife, and religious unrest. In fact, the conflict was so severe that in
1592, the year Boehmes travels began, Rudolf of Saxony ordered a thoroughgoing religious purge of the area (Stoudt, 1957, p. 47). After several years of
travels throughout this conflicted region, Boehme returned home to Gorlitz
and established himself as a cobbler.
Sometime during the Spring of 1600, after an unusually long, cold winter,
Boehme was to have one of the most significant of his illuminations, a shattering mystical experience which became the vital center of his life and
thought (Stoudt, 1957, p. 56). The experience was as profound as it was
brief, lasting a mere fifteen minutes. Nonetheless, it provided Boehme with
material for thought and writing for years to come. As he, himself, described
the experience,
the gate was opened unto me, that in one quarter of an hour I saw and knew
more than if I had been many years together at a University; at which I did
exceedingly admire, and I knew not how it happened to me; and thereupon I
turned my heart to praise God for it. (Waterfield, 1989, pp. 6364)
As recounted in Aurora, his first major writing produced some twelve years
after the vision, my spirit directly saw through all things, and knew God in
and by all creatures, even in herbs and grass . . . In this light my will grew in
great desire to describe the being of God. (Boehme, 1915, xix, 13).
What was the nature of this experience that revealed to Boehme the Being
of all Beings, the Byss (the ground or original foundation), and Abyss (that
which is without ground, or bottomless and fathomless) . . . (Waterfield,
1989, p. 64)? It is described in the following passage by Hans Martensen, one
of Boehmes biographers.
Sitting one day in his room, his eye fell upon a burnished pewter dish, which
reflected the sunshine with such marvelous splendor that he fell into an inward
ecstasy, and it seemed to him as if he could now look into the principles and
deepest foundations of things. He believed that it was only a fancy, and in order
to banish it from his mind he went out into the green fields. But here he noticed
that he could gaze into the very heart of things, the very herbs and grass, and
that actual nature harmonized with what he had inwardly seen. (Martensen,
1949, p. 5)
121
[A]t last I fell into a very deep melancholy and heavy sadness, when I beheld and
contemplated the great deep of this world, also the sun and stars, the clouds,
rain and snow, and considered in my spirit the whole creation of this world.
Wherein then I found to be in all things, evil and good, love and anger, in the
inanimate creatures, viz. in wood, stones, earth and the elements, as also in men
and beasts . . . But finding that in all things there was evil and good, as well in
the elements as in the other creatures, and that it went as well in this world
with the wicked as with the virtuous, honest, and Godly; . . . I was thereupon
very melancholy, perplexed and exceedingly troubled, no Scripture could comfort
or satisfy me, though I was very well acquainted with it, and versed therein.
(Boehme, 1915, pp. 485487)
It was then in the context of this intense inner struggle, perhaps mirroring
the religious storms in the outside world in which Boehme lived, that he was
able to penetrate to another layer of being. He continues in Aurora.
But when in this affliction and trouble I elevated my spirit (for I then understood very little or not at all what it was), I earnestly raised it up into God, as
with a great storm or onset, wrapping up my whole heart and mind, as also all
my thoughts and whole will and resolution, incessantly to wrestle with the love
and mercy of God, and not to give over, until he blessed me, that is, until he
enlightened me with his holy spirit, whereby I might understand his will, and be
rid of my sadness. And then the spirit did break through. (Ibid., pp. 485487,
italics mine)
122
anterior to God and anterior to being. Recalling his vision of the eye in the
pewter dish, Boehme says that the Ungrund lies in the eye, the core of God
and creation (Boehme, 1969, 3:1, 16:16). The Ungrund is eternally a mystery
to God because it is what God was before God became conscious of Gods Self.
Inspired by the image of the Ungrund, he expanded upon a new creation
myth that complemented the Genesis story. It is in Aurora that he first
broaches this theme of beginnings (Ibid., pp. 500501). Perceiving both a vacuum and a need to fill it, he takes on the self-identified calling of describing
the true ground of God in the balance of his opus. In Signatura Rerum,
Boehme speaks of the Grand Mystery of All Beings.
[U]nderstand this of the divine essence; without nature God is a mystery, . . . for
without nature is the nothing, which is an eye of eternity, an abyssal eye, that
stands or sees in the nothing, for it is the abyss; and this same eye is a will,
understand a longing after manifestation, to find the nothing; but now there is
nothing before the will, where it might find something, where it might have a
place to rest, therefore it enters into itself, and finds itself in nature. (1969, p.
22)
The Ungrund is not the personal creator God but the absolute-in-itself, a
moment at the commencement of the divine life and process of self creation
and revelation of being and the divine (Boehme, 1965, 1:1). Boehme pursued
this theme over and over in work after work, including his magnum opus, the
three volume Mysterium Magnum which was written in the last years of his
life. In the following passage, however, Boehme introduces a new theme. Here
he equates the nothing with the all.
The eternal divine understanding is a free will, not arisen either from any thing
or by any thing; . . . but it is A L L, and yet as a Nothing. For there is in itself no
contemplation, sensation or perceivancy whereby it might find a likeness in itself. (1965, p. 217)
Even though it contains all the antinomies, all the contradictions are still
in harmony. They are only potential and not yet differentiated. At the deepest
123
Thus, the abyss, for Boehme, is a place beyond time and space from which
emanate all possibilities. In Boehmes visions, these eternal contrarieties exist and emerge together. All creation arises from an eternal speaking of
God, a breathing out of Himself. This breathing speaks through the static
ground of life and is a likeness of the divine breathing (Boehme, 1978, p.
209).
Analogous to the nothing-something, hidden-manifest dynamic of his creation myth, Boehme experiences creation arising in and through the static
ground of melancholy in the human psyche. As the soul seeks direct experience of God in the stillness of the abyss, and relinquishes its self-image, God
breathes out a likeness of Gods self into human brokenness. Boehme intimately reveals something about his early experience in The Way to Christ, a
series of treatises written toward the end of his life:
If it were possible for him to remain quiet for an hour or less in his inner selfwill and speaking, the divine will would speak into him. Through this inspeaking, Gods will forms His will in man in Himself, and speaks into the formed,
natural, essential, external life of reason and smashes the earthly formation of
the rational will, and enlightens it so that immediately the supersensual divine
life and will sprouts in the rational will and centers itself in it. (Ibid., p. 209)
124
These statements would indicate that the concept was inspired from the
experience as opposed to being reasoned through the rational mind. Boehme
seems directly to connect his illuminative experience with the concept of the
abyss or the Ungrund. In finding the Ungrund at the very depth of God, we
might say that Boehmes vision is a kind of mystical depth theology.
Mystical visions or madness
Boehme may have been accused by his detractors of being delusional and
even a drunk, but these were only attempts at discrediting him for his original and provocative writings that put him, some said, at serious odds with
orthodox Christian theology. Despite these unfortunate and costly accusations, Boehmes writings were not the rantings of a madman. They were
rather his process of unpacking and integrating for himself and for others
what was revealed to him during his visions.
What might a psychological analysis say about Boehmes experiences of the
abyss? While these visions may have followed a disintegrating period of melancholy or psychic disturbance, the visions, in the end, led to healing rather
than disintegration. These were humbling not inflationary experiences, leaving Boehme with a feeling of awe and gratitude.
Think of Boehme in this way: He retrieved into consciousness and culture
an awareness of the chthonic spirit at the very time when post-Reformation
Christianity was becoming increasingly cut off from the feminine and the
notion of the presence of spirit in matter. His extensive exploration of the
Virgin Sophia in his writings could be seen as compensating, consciously or
unconsciously, for the Protestant reaction against the cult of the Virgin Mary
as well as the subsequent demotion from her position as mother of God altogether.
Further, the most immediate thing we notice is that his experiencesat
least as far as they have been recorded in his writings and those of others
give us no indication of a psychotic break. Beginning in 1600, Boehmes visions were noetic; they opened a gate to inner knowledge and gnosis and
125
produced a significant compendium of work. Also, Boehme exhibited a diminution rather than an inflation of ego in the way he speaks of the inner-self
giving over to the divine will (Ibid., p. 209).
What is the map we are given here from the lens of analytical psychology?
Themes of oppositionof feminine and masculine, creation and destruction,
good and evil, Christ and Lucifer, Ungrund and Sophia, eros and aggression,
life and deathabound in Boehmes map. If we were to apply his insights to
that of modern depth psychology, these themes locate the original problem
which so troubled him and his work squarely in the realm of analytical psychology and the notion of Jungs Self-field, where all naturally occurring oppositions of the psyche are encountered, united, and held in harmonic tension.
126
type of order, as an innate and potential bridging reality links the material
and psychical, inner and outer in one reality. We may go in an out of this
reality, but once we know it is there and that it is real, it makes a difference.
Marie-Louise Von Franz (1997), Erich Neumann (1989) and others refer to
the Self as a field, or simply the Self-Field. Ann Belford Ulanov speaks of the
Self as an ordering force in the unconscious, saying,
The Self exists in us as a predisposition to be oriented around a center. It is the
archetype of the center, a primordial image similar to images that have fascinated disparate societies throughout history. It is, like all the archetypes, part of
the deepest layers of our unconscious which Jung calls collective or objective
to indicate that they exceed our personal experience. We experience the Self
existing within our subjectivity, but it is not our property, nor have we originated it; it possesses its own independent life. (Ulanov, 1997, p. 298)
The Self archetype unites oppositions and, according to Ulanov, orders our
whole psyche. When we enter into an experience of unitary reality, or when
we
cooperate with the approaches of the Self, it feels as if we are connecting with a
process of centering, not only for our deepest self but for something that extends
well beyond our psyche into the center of reality. (Ibid., p. 299)
Neumann seems to echo this when he tells us that the field of the Self is
beyond, or a regulatory field superior to, the archetypal field (1989, p. 20).
In describing the stages of ego consciousness in relation to the archetypal
field and to the Self-field, Neumann says that we find at a certain layer of
reality a unitary reality existing beyond and before the primal split (consciousness from unconsciousness) that inevitably occurs in which our conscious minds develop into a polarized reality. Except in cases of severe
trauma or developmental injury, he believes that most of us have experienced
this unitary reality in some form while we were in the mothers womb or at a
very early stage of development:
The prenatal egoless totality is associated with an unconscious experience
which can, however, be recalled in later life as a dim memoryof an acosmic
state of the world. In this totality there exists a pre-psychic nebular state in
which there is no opposition between the ego and the world, I and Thou, or the
ego and the self. This state of diffusion of the world-soul and the corresponding
emptiness of the world is a borderline experience of the beginning of all things
which corresponds to the mystics experience of the universal diffusion of the unitary reality [emphasis mine]. (Ibid., p. 74)
Neumann believes that in the case of the mystics experience too, the dissolution and overcoming of the ego results in what he is calling a borderline
experience (to be distinguished from the DSM diagnostic category, border-
127
128
129
Soul meets spirit through the activity of the deeper self as we are penetrated by that transcendent factor that is dynamic and free. The fact of an
130
131
Boehme, J. (1915). The Aurora (J. Sparrow, Trans.). London: John M. Watkins.
Boehme, J. (1965). Mysterium Magnum (Vols. 12) (J. Sparrow, Trans.). London: John M. Watkins.
Boehme, J. (1969). The Signature of All Things. Cambridge: James Clarke & Co., Ltd.
Boehme, J. (1978). The Way to Christ (P. Erb, Trans.). New York: Paulist Press.
Jung, C.G. (1921). Psychological Types. In CW 6. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press.
Jung, C.G. (1960). The Structure and Dynamics of the Psyche. In CW 8. New York: Pantheon
Books.
Jung, C.G. (1963). Memories, Dreams, Reflections. In A. Jaffe (Ed.). New York: Random House.
Jung, C.G. (1988). Nietzsches Zarathustra. In J. Jarrett (Ed.). Princeton: Princeton University
Press.
Martensen, H. (1949). Jacob Boehme, Studies in His Life and Teaching. (T.R. Evans, Trans.).
London: Rockliff.
Neumann, E. (1989). The Place of Creation. Princeton: Princeton University Press.
Samuels, A., Shorter, B. & Plaut, F. (1986). A Critical Dictionary of Jungian Analysis. New York:
Routledge & Kegan Paul.
Stoudt, J.J. (1957). Sunrise to Eternity. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press.
Swainson, W.P. (1940). Jacob Boehme. In A.E. Waite (Ed.), Three Famous Mystics. Philadelphia:
The David McKay Company.
Ulanov, A. (1997). Jung and religion: the opposing Self. In P. Young-Eisendrath & T. Dawson
(Eds.), The Cambridge Companion to Jung. (pp. 296313). Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press.
Ulanov, A. (1999). Religion and the Spiritual in Carl Jung. Mahweh, NJ: Paulist Press.
Versluis, A. (1999). Wisdoms Children. Albany: State University of New York Press.
von Franz, M-L. (1997). Archetypal Dimensions of the Psyche. Boston: Shambhala.
Waterfield, R. (Ed.). (1989). Jacob Boehme: Essential Readings. Wellingborough, UK: Crucible.
Wehr, Gerhard. (1995). C. G. Jung in the Context of Christian Esotericism and Cultural History.
In A. Faivre & J. Needleman (Eds.), Modern Esoteric Spirituality (pp. 381399). New York:
Crossroad.
Wickes, F. (1950). The Inner World of Man. Boston: Sigo Press.
Wood, D.K. (1982). The Twentieth-Century Revolt Against Time: Belief and Becoming in the
Thought of Berdyaev, Eliot, Huxley, and Jung. The Secular Mind. In W. Wagar (Ed.). New
York: Holmes and Meier Publishers.
Copyright of Journal of Religion & Health is the property of Springer Science & Business Media B.V. and its
content may not be copied or emailed to multiple sites or posted to a listserv without the copyright holder's
express written permission. However, users may print, download, or email articles for individual use.