The Rainbow: A Layman's Guide to Managing Spiritual Crisis with 'The Confessions' of Jacob Boehme
In my latest book titled The Rainbow: Managing Spiritual Crisis with ‘The Confessions' of Jacob Boehme (Ninaki's Highlights, 2025), I have updated an existing English translation compiled and edited by W. Scott Palmer in 1920, whose text now resides in the public domain. However, Palmer's edition has been rewritten to bring it more in line with modern English usage, since the autobiographical writings of the Lutheran mystic Jacob Boehme (1575–1624) continue to help people dealing with mental health issues such as anxiety, depression, particularly if they come from a faith background and find little meaningful help and support from their peers. The reason is simple: Boehme experienced these states himself, and openly wrote of them.
In The Confessions, Boehme vividly recounts his profound struggle with his faith, a personal journey marked by struggles that often left him depressed. His fear of insignificance in the world led to the repeated testing of his faith. This struggle resonates with the universal human experience, evoking a sense of connection to a more significant spiritual truth. He observed that everything possesses both good and evil, love and wrath inherent within..
Boehme was born to a family of smallholders in Silesia, Germany, and was not formally educated. As a teenager, he was apprenticed to a cobbler and remained a journeyman shoemaker for life. He married Iin 1594 and had four sons. Despite his family commitments, he wrote over thirty books between 1612 and his death in 1624, reflecting on the nature of existence and the existence of the spirit world. At age twenty-five, he had an epiphany while walking in the meadows on the Sunday after Pentecost. Upon returning home, he saw a beam of sunlight reflected on a pewter dish, a significant experience for him because it revealed the spiritual reality hidden in ordinary, natural light. Interpreting this as a sign from the supernatural world, in 1612, he wrote a compilation of his revelations and meditations titled Aurora. In this work, he attempted to explain the origin of life through spiritual causes and the existence of good and evil by observing elementary proofs in nature
“… my spirit broke through the doors of Hell, and penetrated even unto the innermost essence of its newly born divinity where it was received with great love, as a bridegroom welcomes his beloved bride …. No word can express the great joy and triumph I experienced, as of life out of death, as of a resurrection from the dead …. While in this state, as I was walking through a field of flowers, in fifteen minutes, I saw through the mystery of creation, the original of this world and of all creatures … Then for seven days I was in a continual state of ecstasy, surrounded by the light of the Spirit, which immersed me in contemplation and happiness. I learned what God is, and what is his will. … I knew not how this happened to me, but my heart admired and praised the Lord for it.”
Boehme, Aurora, 1612
Boehme would later write in The Confessions that,
“The sensation I had was of a fiery love arising within me, rekindling the bitter, astringent, cold, dark, and dead powers within me and enveloping me in the most caring and loving way. I have always had to fight my inner demons every hour of every day. I sometimes get the better of them, and they of me. Yet even when they get the upper hand, they cannot fully overcome me because when I fall, the power of God within makes me stand up again and fight.”
Boehme, Confessions, Ch.2
Following this experience, Boehme was mentored by a local physician who was also a practical alchemist, Abraham Behem. Behem was familiar with the works of the great sixteenth-century alchemist Paracelsus. From Paracelsus via Behem, Boehme learned the value of alchemical symbolism as a framework for describing and understanding his mystical experiences. This, in turn, enabled him to interpret the scriptures in a new way and to perceive the inner light that would ‘crystallise the earth into transparent gold' in the world to come (Revelation 21:21).
Like the alchemists before him, Boehme viewed death and decomposition as the separation of spirit or light from physical matter. He observed the vitality or force of life departing from the gross elements in the birth of new, altered states. On the other hand, reintegration involves the unification of Spirit with the Divine Essence, which is essentially comprised of the same thing but vibrating at an entirely higher and much finer frequency than the base elements. Similarly, in occult schools, it is believed that as the Spirit ascends, it becomes purer and more unified with its origin. For Boehme, our work to reunite with the Essence of God was achievable by merging with the Principal Cause or Divine Light concealed within us, thereby forever balancing it with the Darkness within. His goal was to awaken the spiculum vitae (soul life) and our capacity to perceive the spirit contained in nature. He once wrote
“There is every assistance in the centre of everyone, and thus, this reintegration process occurs in this life and the next. it is the most profitable thing for man in this world that he can search for and seek after; for herein he learns to know himself, what matter and substance he is of; also from whence his understanding and sensibility is stirred, and how he is created out of the Substance of God.”
Boehme, The Three Principles of the Divine Essence, 1618-19
e universal human experience, evoking a sense of connection to a more significant spiritual truth. He observed that everything possesses both good and evil, love and wrath inherent within.
According to Boehme, all life is derived from a generative process derived from the ‘first Principle' or Godhead Itself. According to Boehme, evil is attributed to the energy of negation (‘separation'), representing the principle of contradiction in God. Consequently, in Boehme's metaphysics, two opposing actions from the Divine Unity coexist simultaneously. These actions manifest as darkness and light. The coexistence of good and evil, truth and falsity, creates a desire in man to choose between good and evil. The term ‘evil' can be understood as any force working against the will of God.
As the psalmist cried, ‘Out of the deep have I called unto thee', so does the everyday man or woman silently cry when consumed by life's troubles. Indeed, calling out to a divinity who listens, let alone one who cares yet apparently remains deafeningly silent, is the most profound mystery of faith. Most people who admit to having ‘faith' also adhere to a particular religious tradition or set of doctrines, with most believing in an inherently good God. A common thread is how belief influences their perception of the self and others. Observers of those who profess faith are tempted to think that persistent low moods or depressive disorders are a crisis of faith.
The ‘two masters' of whom Christ spoke[1] are not God and money but two emotions: love and fear. These are called judgment and mercy or chaos and order in the esoteric tradition. The result is confusion because both conditions must be balanced to achieve stability. They continue to oppose and resist one another unless balanced, leading to division. Indeed, fear and love are likened in the Christian mystical tradition to darkness and light—the great metaphor defining spiritual experience. Yet everyone from time to time, of all faiths and none, suffers from fear, imbalance, and mental confusion. Yet, it is rarely ‘evil'.
One of the key reasons is because of the condition termed ‘narcissism'. Healthy (or even moderate) narcissism exists as an expression of self-love or high self-esteem.
Selfish instincts, per se, are not wrong because they are required for survival from the moment we are born and begin to develop our personalities. ‘Looking out for ourselves' is a natural and normal part of a person's hardwiring. The problem arises when a disconnect occurs between the emotional and material needs of the self and sympathy with others, in which case narcissism may manifest as a pathological self-centred personality trait. Like fear, selfishness stifles love and tends to excessive imbalance.
Pathological narcissism is destructive. It is not evil but results in unkindness and an absence of love, from which evil can manifest if left unchecked. Unhealthy narcissism feeds into fear because it fails to recognise that our needs and emotions are not unique. Everyone has similar core basic needs and desires. It helps no one to describe fear as ‘weakness',[2] or as something which serves no useful purpose.[3] Neither statement is accurate, and the problem with them (and much else besides) is that such language is often used in a misguided attempt to comfort people. Such states, which vary massively in degree and severity from one person to another, ultimately arise from fear and have always existed in human beings.
For his part, Boehme dared to write on a topic into which most theological thinkers in the Western religious tradition have feared to tread: the origin of God. He wanted to get to the very core of this question because he believed it contained the answer to everything else there was to know. For him, God was both everything and nothing at the same time. The ungrund (God) signified the original and indistinguishable unity in a state of absolute negation, devoid of ontological status. Thus, he wrote of God as the ‘Abyss' who is neither light nor darkness, love nor fear. Yet, Boehme's God was simultaneously all of these things too:
“When you observe the depths, the stars, and the earth, you see and understand your God within them. However, what you perceive with your eyes first is death and then the anger of God. Although the bright and pure divinity is present in all these things, when you look at the depths, the stars, the elements, and the earth, you do not comprehend them with your eyes. Instead, you first see and understand death and then God's anger. But if you elevate your thoughts and contemplate the location of God, you will begin to perceive the celestial movements, which represent the interplay of love and anger. Having faith and approaching the holy ruler in this realm, you will grasp God within his sacred heart. Once this is achieved, you will become like God, who encompasses the heavens, the earth, the stars, and the elements.”
Boehme, The Confessions, ch.5
Reading Boehme, we begin to understand how the paradox of God, present in both Abyss and Paradise, clarifies stories in the Old Testament by revealing the nature of the Divinity as an admixture, just like us. For Boehme, evil operated as chaos, infringing on happiness and disrupting peaceful harmony and order.
Christianity has primarily focused on addressing the doctrine of Original Sin, but Boehme's unique contribution lies in his description of what preceded it. A decade after writing his first treatise, Boehme received a revelation about the divine order of nature. He was inspired to write down what had been shown to him. He revealed that the trinity of Father, Son, and Holy Spirit consists of seven different states, similar to the primary colours and the seven basic musical tones, or the ‘seven planes of existence' identified in classical philosophy with the seven planets, which correspond to the seven states of consciousness in humans. We can observe these in the remarkable biblical character of Mary Magdalene. In the Gospel of Mark 16:9, it is written that Christ ‘appeared first to Mary Magdalene, out of whom he had cast seven devils'. In Luke 8:2, we read, ‘a certain woman, who had been healed of evil spirits and infirmities, Mary called the Magdalene, out of whom he sent seven devils'.
It also highlights that this duality is an essential aspect of the energetic force that sustains and rejuvenates life in the physical world, as Boehme wrote ,
“Everything is so at odds with itself, as we see it to be not only in the living creatures, but also in the stars, elements, earth, stones, metals, in wood, leaves, and grass, there is a poison and malignity in all things; and it is found that it must be so, or else there would be no life, nor mobility, nor would there be any colour nor virtue, neither thickness nor thinness, nor any perceptibility or sensibility, but all would be as nothing.” (De Signatura Rerum)
This dualism or capacity for darkness and light reflects the relationship between the physical and spiritual worlds. The absence or impairment of love leads to imbalance, often manifesting as either depression or depressive anxiety. However, it is critical to understand that healthy love cannot exist without fear; how else can obsession, possessiveness, overwhelming jealousy, or retrospective jealousy be held in check? Without limitation on love, such destructive tendencies would stifle free will and eliminate self-expression. What is good would become evil. Balance is imperative. Thus, depressive feelings should not be dismissed out of hand as unnecessary or without purpose because they are alerting us to imbalance. The problem is in their too-frequent recurrence. The necessity of fear in the balance of life validates our experiences and helps us navigate our journey, and Boehme's vision of the nature of a God progressing through stages helps in this process.
This was important for Boehme because it held the key to understanding the origins, purpose, and nature of evil, as well as the significant disparity between good and bad things in the world (the way things ‘should be' in a perfect world with an omnipotent God and the way things are). The key to understanding Boehme is the appreciation that both good and evil and pleasure and suffering must exist.
The importance of Boehme's metaphysical experiment therefore lies in its explanation of a God who shares in our suffering and has an inherently dual nature before we even get to discussions about the Incarnation of Christ into the microcosm as man. He introduces us to the idea that love is complementary to fear because it mollifies it; indeed, it draws out the potential in fear to drive aspiration. For Boehme, this is a process toward self-knowledge. On the macrocosmic level, this is the Divinity; on the microcosmic level, it is our species; and beyond even this, it is our individuated conscious and unconscious selves. Boehme was inevitably accused of heresy. On one occasion, he equated Mary, the Mother of God, with Wisdom, the Holy Sophia. In his writings, Wisdom closely resembled a quaternary persona within the Godhead. This was contrary to the Church's Trinitarian doctrines and centuries of Mariological dogma. Such accusations were based on a misunderstanding and misreading of his deeply mystical works, which were never really at odds with orthodox Christianity. However, as with most mystics, the exoteric Church treated him with grave suspicion.
What we have learned to term ‘anxiety' in the twenty-first century results from a range of experiences (for want of a better word) characterised by unpleasant emotional and often physiological reactions. Anxiety can lead to phobias such as panic disorder, claustrophobia, agoraphobia, social anxiety, or generalised anxiety disorders (collectively referred to as ‘GAD'). Boehme could only understand these feelings within a seventeenth-century context, but we read that he was tormented with ‘absurd ideas' in times of great suffering.
In The Confessions, there is prescience in his remark that eliminating all bad feelings would make a person almost endowed with godlike omniscience. Suffering limits pride and overconfidence which safeguards against unfaithfulness to God, for ‘There is nothing closer than heaven, paradise, and hell'. It is a matter of balance for Boehme, as our true nature has two eternal destinies: love and wrath, each with its own outcomes. For example, nowadays, we know that anxiety can lead to the more debilitating state of ‘depressive anxiety'.
Depressive anxiety is based on the concept that every person has an internalised, mostly unconscious world of ‘relationships' built on a person's environment and, more importantly, the people close to them or ‘objects'. It is a psychoanalytic theory in which potential manifestations of negative feelings, such as fear, arise. Indeed, anxiety and depression alike can be described as pain associated with feelings of disconnectedness. For example, the fear or terror of ageing or death can lead to phobias of either or both of them. Yet, neither ageing nor death can ultimately be avoided in nature. Nevertheless, the subject still develops negative feelings, which cause self-isolation and sorrow.
The late psychiatrist and pioneer in near-death studies Elisabeth Kubler Ross once observed that,
“All positive emotions come from love, all negative emotions from fear. From love flows happiness, contentment, peace, and joy. From fear comes anger, hate, anxiety[,] and guilt. It's true that there are only two primary emotions, love and fear. But it's more accurate to say that there is only love or fear, for we cannot feel these two emotions together, at exactly the same time. They're opposites. If we're in fear, we are not in a place of love. When we're in a place of love, we cannot be in a place of fear.”
– Kubler-Ross, On death and Dying, 2008
In summary, the idea that we can reduce the range of all emotions to love and fear is intriguing, as it opens all sorts of possibilities for a better understanding of the treatment of anxiety and depression. Above all, it takes us full circle to the metaphysical reasoning of Jacob Boehme.
Biblical References
[1] Matthew 6:24
[2] Matthew 6:30: ‘But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which today is alive and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you, O men of little faith?'
[3] Matthew 6:25, 6:27, 6:31, and 6:34
This article is the copyright (c) of M.R. Osborne, 2025
