Esoteric Coffeehouse

All Rosicrucian or Rosicrucian-based orders in existence today hark back to the 1614 publication of the famous manifests, the Fama Fraternitatis and the Confessio. These anonymously published works claimed that the Rosicrucians were a hidden order of initiates established by an unknown mystic named Christian Rosenkreutz in the 14th century. The publication of the two manifestos caused an intense excitement on the European intellectual scene, an event which is now referred to as the Rosicrucian furor. Thousands of intellectuals from all over the continent sent letters demanding to become members of the obscure organization. No letter was ever answered.

Today, scholars still wonder: did the Rosicrucians really exist? There are many views on these. On one extreme, there are those that claim that there was indeed an organization of the Rose and Cross, whether or not founded by the mythical Rosenkreutz. At the other extreme, there are those that maintain that Rosicrucianism was a big hoax perpetrated by pranksters. At the middle of the scholarly discourse, there are those who believe that Rosicrucianism was a name comprising a heterogeneous group of reformers that had a common goal, but not a common creed.

At the end of the 16th century, there was expectation in the air. The 1500s had been a period of upheaval and questioning, which had resulted in the split of the Catholic Church and the birth of the Protestant Churches. To us today the 16th century was a period of innovation that opened avenues of inquiry previously deemed impossible. However, for the people actually living during those times the change must have been painful and not necessarily positive. There were wars amongst Christians previously unheard of; witch hunts; plagues; persecutions. Within this unstable environment, many intellectuals spent a lot of time thinking how to reform the European society and mend its religious and social fractures. Many offered solutions, but there was a current of thought that was primarily dedicated to religious concord: the Hermetic one. This heterogenous ‘group’ comprised philosophers, Christian Kabbalists, magicians, and especially, alchemists. The latter, devoted followers of Paracelsus, were particularly active at the end of the 16th century and were spreading their beliefs in the philosopher’s stone and the Universal Medicine.

(more…)

At the foundation of Christian Kabbalah stands one man: Giovanni Pico della Mirandola, the original enfant terrible of the European Renaissance. At the tender age of 23, in 1486, Pico wrote and sent to the Pope 900 Theses of theology and philosophy which he proposed to debate with anyone that wished to do so. To these he attached an introductory Oration on the Dignity of Man, which has become a classical statement of the Renaissance worldview. It is regrettable that today he is mostly remembered for this statement of human dignity rather than his other groundbreaking work.

Unfortunately for Pico, church officials were not in a mood for a debate with the young and dashing count, and instead proceeded to analyse the 900 Theses against the Catholic dogma. They found 13 propositions suspicious of heresy, and out of these, one in particular: “There is no science that assures us of the divinity of Christ than magic and the Cabala”. Pico agreed to retract the condemned theses, but later he published an Apology which pretty much re-affirmed all his ideas. This, of course, set the Pope on fire, and Pico had to flee to France to avoid imprisonment. After many other adventures, Pico settled back in Florence, where he died at only 31 years of age, apparently poisoned by a member of the famous house of Medici.

Pico has been called the disciple and pupil of the philosopher Marsilio Ficino. They shared an interest in Neoplatonic, Hermetic philosophy and magic, but Pico didn’t think those were enough. He was attracted to the mysterious art of the Kabbalah, whom Hebrew scholars were talking to him about.

(more…)

Not many people liked Paracelsus during his lifetime, and even after his death his somewhat shady reputation followed him into the modern era. He was not a shy Copernicus who only published his discoveries after his death, or a reluctant Galileo who admitted his faults in front of the Inquisition. It was only too lucky for him that the Inquisition was not in full force then. As it was, he lived his life as a perpetual gypsy, until he found his untimely and somewhat mysterious death in Salzburg, now Austria.

Nowadays, when chemistry, biology or medicine look back at him, they find themselves at odds on how to integrate this pivotal figure in their textbooks. It is clear that Paracelsus was instrumental in changing the nature of medicine and ‘chemistry’ (then it was simply alchemy), but he did so in his idiosyncratic ways. Paracelsus was not a scientist, nor could he have been in that age; science as we now call it dates from the late 17th or even the 18th century. His methods and intentions were far too different to those of the later science, and no attempt at ‘recuperating’ Paracelsus for science would actually work. Hence, most scientific textbooks either avoid him or mention him for having destroyed the Galenic-Aristotelian worldview.

This was no mean feat in itself, and only Paracelsus’ ambiguous image probably prevented him from being hailed as a revolutionary of the likes of Copernicus, Galileo or Newton. Surely, the astronomical revolution was spectacular through its change of the paradigm of the earth as the centre of the universe. However, Paracelsus’ efforts of challenging the view of the composition and structure of the universe were also grandiose projects.

(more…)

I have intended for sometime to write a little piece on the stages of alchemical work. There are several books on alchemy, but I’m afraid not very many talk in a clear manner of the alchemical process itself. Surely, throughout the centuries alchemical techniques underwent a natural evolution, and matters are complicated by the personal touch each alchemist set on the process. However, it appears that the Western alchemical tradition maintained a consistency of four phases expressed in colors: nigredo (blackness), albedo (whiteness), citrinitas (yellowing) and rubedo (redness). This habit of expressing alchemical change through color was called ‘dyeing’ and underlay a belief that colors expressed fundamental stages of nature (1). Carl Jung thought this sequence originated with Heraclitus, although no reference from the ancient Greek philosopher is given (2).

Alchemical work was rooted in the philosophy of a gradual but irreversible process of improvement in nature. Perhaps the best summary of the worldview pervading alchemy was Mircea Eliade’s lesser known work The Forge and the Crucible. According to him, alchemical practice was rooted in a primordial human impulse as homo faber (3). The fundamental idea was that Nature was perfectible and that it was in a perpetual process of self-improvement. All metals tend, or wish, to become gold, and they do so over centuries of change. However, man can intervene and quicken the process of natural growth. This human implication into the course of Nature was accompanied by a feeling of sacredness and reverence toward her. This was not inert, inferior matter: but matter hiding the very seeds of divinity. It was by delving deep into the heart of Nature that the alchemist discovered the secrets of Creation and immortality.

(more…)

I have spent my last few weeks researching the German theosophist Jacob Boehme, and I thought – why not write an introduction to this esotericist who has influenced so much of modern thinking, including Romanticism, Hegel or Schopenhauer?

Boehme (1575-1624) is mostly known and revered today as the forerunner of modern theosophy, a major esoteric movement made famous by Helena Blavatsky, Rudolf Steiner and Krishnamurti (the latter two in their early years). As conceived by Boehme, theosophy was an eclectic mixture of Christian theology, natural philosophy and mysticism. He perceived the Bible as containing esoteric knowledge about God that he felt he had a duty to reveal.

It all started with a mystical revelation. In 1600, at age 25, Boehme was a rather prosperous shoemaker in the eastern German town of Gorlitz. He had just married, acquired his license to practice shoemaking, and all was set for him to become a respected and average citizen of Gorlitz. But, the legend goes, Boehme was not a happy man; he was depressed and often fell into melancholy. One day, however, as Boehme was sitting at home, he suddenly saw the light of the sun reflected in a tin dish. In one flash, Boehme experienced a mystical vision of God which changed his life forever.

Moved by such a powerful revelation, Boehme began to write his first book, Aurora, which he only finished twelve years later. He never abandoned his ‘day-job’, so to speak: he continued to work as a shoemaker until l613, when he began a yarn business. Yet his mystical-esoteric side got him into trouble with the local Lutheran church, which pronounced him a heretic and forbade him to write. That, of course, did not happen; his Aurora became very popular in several influential circles and subsequently Boehme wrote more than fifteen thick books, which expanded on the first revelations of Aurora.

(more…)