Apocalypse Lecture 3 – Destruction

Facing the Anxiety of Transformation

By Bob Bongiovanni, MA

BOOK OF HOURS, BOOK I, POEM 15

By Rainer Maria Rilke

Our hands shake as we try to construct you,

block on block.

But you, cathedral we dimly perceive—

who can bring you to completion?

What's Rome? It crumbled.

What is the world? We are destroying it

before your towers can taper into spires,

before we can assemble your face

from the piles of mosaic.

Yet sometimes in dreams

I take in your whole expanse,

from its deepest beginnings

up to the rooftop's glittering ridge.

And then I see: it is my mind

that will fashion

and set the last pieces in place.

Thus far in our lecture series, we have explored the archetype of the Apocalypse, which has appeared across many cultures and eras in human history. This archetype has four faces or aspects: revelation (the disruptive flooding of unconscious contents into consciousness); judgement (coming to grips with shadow); destruction (facing the anxiety of transformation); and coming of a new world (fulfillment of the promise of individuation). This week, we will discuss destruction, again using Edward Edinger’s book, Archetype of the Apocalypse and the New Testament Book of Revelation for our primary sources.

Psychologically speaking, the fear of destruction means that the ego has faced a critical moment of truth and of choice. Through the process of revelation and judgement, the ego comes to realize that there is a purposeful, intelligent force in the psyche greater than itself – what we Jungians would call the Self – and how, to varying degrees, the it has failed to live up to what the Self requires – namely, forming an ego/Self axis so that the Self may become manifest in the human dimensions of time and space. Another way of saying this is that the Self longs to have relationship with the ego, but the ego does not always live up to its obligations for this to occur. As a result, the Self remains cut off from consciousness, and the ego lives a superficial, frustrating life, cut off from its deeper sources of insight, energy, and destiny. Through revelation, the ego becomes convinced of the reality of the psyche and the Self. Through judgment, the ego faces the harsh reality of its mistakes and misalignment. Next, through destruction, the ego endures the fearsome journey of transformation.

It’s not absolutely necessary for transformation to be terrifying, of course. It can be adventurous, even exhilarating. It mostly depends on the attitude that the ego brings to the process. Some egos crave control and certainty, a protective approach that is usually the product of past wounds, which have given rise to dominating complexes. How can I trust a process I am not in charge of? Will it turn out the way that I expect and want? The answer is: no, it probably won’t turn out the way you expect, and you must find a way to trust anyway. Otherwise, every impulse and insight that comes from the Self will be seen as an unwanted intrusion from a frightening stranger. Transformation will still come, but it probably come in an even more terrifying way, even farther from what the ego wants and expects, perhaps even swamping the poor ego, leading to a psychic break. The destruction will be complete, and could include physical death.

Up until now, we’ve been talking about apocalyptic destruction from an individual point of view, the experiences of a single ego. There is an analogous process that occurs on the social, collective level. Cultures face revelations – in the voice of the prophet, a disintegrating economy, the horrors of war, a deepening sense of doom and ennui. Cultures face judgment – who are we?; is this the best we can expect out of life?; is this the future we want to leave for the next generation? Then comes the terrifying stage of transformation. Can we build an economy on completely different premises – sustainability versus unchecked growth, for instance? Are we brave enough to wage peace? Like individual egos, many cultures fall back into familiar patterns, even if they are self-defeating, because we are afraid of the unknown and because we simply can’t see beyond our collective complexes. Better to have the devil we know versus the devil we don’t know. The idea that we could reform the devils seems preposterous.

Going back to Book of Revelation, which is primarily about collective expression of the archetype of the apocalypse, there are several themes I would like to present. The first theme comes from Chapter 14:

Now in my vision I saw a white cloud and, sitting on it, one like a son of man with a gold crown on his head and sharp sickle in his hand. Then another angel came out of the sanctuary, and shouted at the top of his voice to the one sitting on the cloud, “Ply your sickle and reap: harvest time has come and the harvest of the earth is ripe.” Then the one sitting on the cloud set his sickle to work on the earth, and the harvest of earth was reaped.

Another angel, who also carried a sharp sickle, came out of the temple in heaven, and the angel in charge of the fire left the altar and should at the top of his voice to the one with the sharp sickle, “Put your sickle in, and harvest the bunches from the vines of the earth and put it into a huge wine-press of God’s anger, outside the city, where it was trodden until the blood that came out of the winepress was up to the horses’ bridles as far away as sixteen hundred furlongs. (14:14-20)

Setting aside the horror of this image for the moment, what could this idea of “harvesting” mean psychologically, on both the individual and collective levels? The idea is that something that was once planted is now ripe and ready for its end, to fulfill its ultimate purpose. Grapes are planted, tended, and then harvested to become wine. Similarly, human beings are endowed with a soul, are seeded with a bit of divinity, if you will. Our lives are about growing and nurturing this soul, cooperating with the Self so that our destinies are fulfilled in our lives. Then comes the harvest – every human life comes to an end, eventually. Then what? The passage from Revelation suggests that we then face a process of assimilation. Our illusion of separation is completely obliterated, and we merge with the Self from which our souls originally arose – we all go into the press and become wine. Of course, that is a very scary proposition for the ego, which by its very nature defines individual identity and elevates it to the first priority. The ego says, “Here is who I am, separate from all other, and my survival comes first.” So, particularly for the rigid ego, the idea of giving up separateness and personal history is the ultimate fear – the fear of annihilation. But, from the point of view of the Self, this illusion of separation was only a means toward an end. It produced a suitable container for the Self to experience limitation in time and space, and to grow in wholeness as a result. But, at death this is now longer necessary. It’s time for the harvest.

Another common image of destruction in the Book of Revelation is the idea of destruction by fire. For instance, in Chapter 14 we read the following:

A third angel followed, shouting aloud, “All those who worship the beast and his statue, or have had themselves branded on the hand or forehead, will be made to drink the wine of God’s fury which is ready, undiluted, in his cup of retribution; in fire and brimstone they will be tortured in the presence of the holy angels and the Lamb and the smoke of their torture will rise for ever and ever. There will be no respite, night or day, for those who worship the beast or its statue or accept branding with its name.” (14:9-11)

Again, some pretty disturbing imagery, to say the least, but a deeper significance can be discerned. According to Edinger, “eternal torture by fire refers to the fate of one who is wholly identified with the primordial psyche . . . When the Self is activated in an individual who is identified with [the primordial psyche] then that person will be ‘tortured’ by compulsive desires for pleasure and power.” (page 120) There’s a further passage by Jung from Mysterium Coniunctionus which makes this point:

You too are infected with this collective sickness. Therefore bethink you for once . . . and consider: What is behind all of this desirousness? A thirsting for the eternal, which as you see, can never be satisfied with the best because it is Hades in whose honor the desirous go mad and rave. The more you cling to that which all the world desires, the more you are Everyman, who has not yet discovered himself and stumbles through the world like a blind man leading the blind with somnambulistic certainty into the ditch. Everyman is always a multitude. Cleanse your interest of that collective sulfur which clings to all like a leprosy. For desire only burns in order to burn itself out, and in and from this fire arises the true living spirit which generates life according to its own laws . . . This means burning in your own fire and not being like a comet or flashing beacon, showing others the right way but not knowing it yourself.

So, then, the Beast represents everything for which the ego burns with desire but which, ultimately, leads nowhere. It can be the pleasure of ownership, or exploitation, of physical satisfaction through food, drink, sex, and so on. How interesting to think that the “brand of the Beast” might be Tommy Hilfiger, Coca Cola, Nike, or the myriad of other logos that emblazon our modern clothing. This desire must burn itself out, even if it takes an entire lifetime, before the soul can be truly nurtured and come to its fulfillment. Over time, it takes more and more to achieve less and less – the heart of addiction – and that which once satisfied becomes a tantalizing torture.

Let’s turn now to one of the most famous passages in the Book of Revelation – the so-called Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. These figures embody four patterns of psychic life that most threaten the ego, can preoccupy the ego, and also contain the potential for ego destruction. The biblical passage can be found in Chapter 6:

I watched as the Lamb broke the first of the seven seals, and I heard one of the four living creatures say in a voice like thunder, `Come!' There before my eyes was a white horse, and its rider held a bow. He was given a crown, and he rode forth, conquering and to conquer.

The Lamb broke the second seal, and I heard the second creature say, 'Come!' Out came another horse, which was red. Its rider was given power to take away peace from the earth that men might slaughter one another; and he was given a great sword.

He broke the third seal, and I heard the third creature say, `Come!' There, as I looked, was a black horse, and its rider was holding in his hand a pair of scales. ⁶1 heard what sounded like a voice from among the four living creatures; it said, ‘A day's wage for a quart of flour, a day's wage for three quarts of barley-meal! But do not damage the olive and the vine.

He broke the fourth seal, and I heard the fourth creature say, `Come!' 'There, as I looked, was another horse, sickly pale; its rider's name was Death, and Hades followed close behind. To them was given power over a quarter of the earth, power to kill by sword and famine, by pestilence and wild beasts.

From the outset, it’s clear that there are alchemical parallels here. Three of the classic colors associated with alchemical transformation are present in this passage – red, black, and white. Added to these three colors is a fourth color – pale, or as some translators have it, green.

For the time being, we are going to skip the white horseman and return to him later. Let’s consider the red horseman first. Being associated with red, we might expect him to have to do with the alchemical process of rubedo, which has to do with the power of emotion, particularly emotion that has been long repressed and has resultantly heated up and in danger of bursting into flames at any moment. This is the horseman that threatens to take away peace and set people at odds with one another. Psychologically, this means a pattern of psychic life where an inflated ego seeks domination over other people, the will to power, and, indeed, fiery emotions are very near the surface in such a pattern. The ultimate expression of this pattern is war, the slaughter of human lives. On smaller scales, this is the pattern of interpersonal conflict, violence, mistrust, betrayal, divorce, and so on. Many egos and cultures are dominated by this pattern, hoping to find fulfillment in full and complete power, which can never be actually achieved. Pursuit of this power brings about destruction through disappointment, isolation, and ultimately bringing about the enslavement of onself rather than the enslavement of others.

Let’s now consider the black horseman. He is associated with the alchemical process of nigredo, which is a descent into darkness, into depression and withdrawal of psychic energy from consciousness. In the Book of Revelation, it’s interesting that this horseman carries a set of scales and food in exchange for labor. Although this horseman is traditionally associated with famine, there seems to be a deeper process going on here, having to do with score-keeping and commerce, meeting one’s physical needs by exchanging one’s talents. Of course, the marketplace is also one of the areas where the ego seeks fulfillment, often in vain. The dehumanizing aspects of the modern economy are well-known to us – how awful to reduce every life to monetary values, rationing exorbitant amounts of wealth to a select few, while denying even basic sustenance to millions, who have nothing of value to sell. Even those wealthy few face a paradox. Depression is far more prevalent among the wealthy, as is suicide. When you have all that you could ever want materially, and you are still unsatisfied, it can be a shattering experience for an ego or a culture that has no depth or spiritual container.

Concerning the pale or green horse, he is associated with death and will the fear of Hades. Why green? Historically, pale green is the color of cadavers; hence we have here the very embodiment of human death. The psychic pattern associated with death is actually quite complex. On the one hand, we have those who find death terrifying and do anything possible to deny or delay it. They are pre-occupied with keeping the body youthful and vibrant, verging on hypochondria. They make no preparations for death, pretending that they will be the first humans to become immortal – all in vain, of course. Then there are others who know they are going to die, but want their ego will to survive them. They may build material monuments – pyramids or a new wing in the art museum – hoping to be remembered. They have children and attempt to ensure that their children continue the dreams and aspirations of their parents. Finally, there are those who are morbidly fascinated with death, taking death-defying risks for the exhilaration of it. All of this, of course, is doomed to failure. Death will come when it will, regardless of the ego’s plans and whims. Eventually, even the pyramids will crumble to dust, and the memory of their builders will crumble far sooner. Children defy parental legacies. The body will eventually age and will fail. If death does eventually overtake the risk-taker, there’s noting particularly thrilling about it. This horseman is also associated with Hades, the fearsome afterlife, which is a lot of what this death anxiety is all about. The ego hates uncertainty, and here is the biggest uncertainty of all.

Now, we turn to the consideration of the white horseman. Traditional associations with this horseman are all over the place. Some say this is the apocalyptic Christ, come with a vengeance to collect his faithful. Others have said this is the anti-Christ, the one who will come to try to usurp the rightful place of God by rallying the peoples of the earth in a secular kingdom with its roots in the devil. Alchemically, since the color is white, we suspect it might have something to do with albedo, the whitening or purification process whereby all the moistness is dried away, leaving a fine powder. Psychologically, the process might be thought of as the elevation of human ideals and perfectionism to purest form, with all the ensuing consequences, many of which are very negative. And these forces are given full reign over humanity, being given the crown of dominion. So, the white horseman might represent religion or political ideology, in which many seek purpose and meaning, but which ultimately prove intolerant of human nature and even viciously destructively.

Can this utter destruction be avoided, on the individual and collective levels? I would like to end with a quote from Edinger:

These matters are relevant to our apocalyptic age. The "coming of the Self" is imminent; and the process of collective "individuation" is living itself out in human history. One way or another, the world is going to be made a single whole entity. But it will be unified either in mutual mass destruction or by means of mutual human consciousness. If a sufficient number of individuals can have the experience of the coming of the Self as an individual, inner experience, we may just possibly be spared the worst features of its external manifestation. I cannot state that possibility with certainty but merely as a hypothesis for which we do have, as already noted, some psychological data. Yet this is how we might lessen the dynamic urge in the collective psyche to manifest the "Apocalypse" collectively and concretely in its most extreme form. (page 174)