The Descent Before the Ascent: Reading Jung, Pages 11–20

I am now reading pages 11 through 20 of Jung’s Archetypes of the Collective Unconscious. These pages are not easy ones. They are dense, full of images that resist quick interpretation, and at times you may find yourself rereading a line again and again. That has been my experience too. But here is the gift of Jung: once the meaning begins to emerge, his words stay with you. They are not only ideas, they are experiences, images that work on the soul. I find myself underlining entire passages, filling the margins with notes, and realizing that these pages are food for the inner life.

In this section, Jung focuses on a truth that runs through scripture as well: there can be no ascent without descent. Growth does not come by avoiding the depths but by entering them. Before the mountaintop, there is the valley. Before resurrection, there is the cross. And before transformation, there is the confrontation with the shadow.

The Descent into the Gorge
Jung illustrates this by recounting a dream. A theologian dreamed of climbing toward a mountain on which stood a castle of the Grail. The image is powerful: the mountain and the Grail, symbols of ultimate spiritual fulfillment. Yet as he approached, he discovered a deep gorge separating him from the goal. At the bottom of the gorge, Jung says, there was “underworldly water rushing along the bottom” (CW 9i, §41).

The meaning is clear. Before one can ascend to the mountain of God, one must first go down into the depths. Jung comments, “The descent is the indispensable condition for climbing higher” (CW 9i, §41). That sentence alone is worth carrying with us. The way up is the way down.

This truth is everywhere in scripture. Paul writes of Christ, “Though he was in the form of God, he did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, but emptied himself, taking the form of a servant, being born in human likeness. And being found in human form, he humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death—even death on a cross. Therefore God also highly exalted him” (Philippians 2:6–9). Exaltation comes only after humiliation. Resurrection comes only after crucifixion.

Jung presses the point further. He notes that “the prudent man avoids the danger lurking in these depths, but he also throws away the good which a bold but imprudent venture might bring” (CW 9i, §41). How often do we choose prudence over courage? We avoid the descent into our own pain, our own unconscious, because it seems too risky. But in doing so, we forfeit the treasures that can only be found in the depths. The soul’s gold is never discovered on the surface.

Spirit and the Body
From here Jung turns to the nature of spirit, and he challenges a false way of thinking about it. Many people imagine spirit as escape, as something purely lofty, light, and detached from the earth. Jung describes it as “a soaring over the depths, deliverance from the prison of the chthonic world” (CW 9i, §41). This kind of spirituality seeks to fly away from the body, to deny instinct and passion, to be “pure spirit.”

But Jung insists this is not the whole truth. Spirit is not found only in escape but in entering the depths. The symbol of water, which represents the unconscious, is not just heavenly. Jung writes, “It is earthy and tangible, it is also the fluid of the instinct-driven body, blood and the flowing of blood, the odour of the beast, carnality heavy with passion” (CW 9i, §41). The spirit is not opposed to these things. It is discovered within them.

This is the very heart of the gospel. “The Word became flesh and lived among us” (John 1:14). Spirit does not float above humanity. Spirit enters humanity. God does not remain aloof from our passions and sorrows. God takes them on, shares them, redeems them. Jung’s psychology and John’s gospel are saying the same thing: spirit is incarnation, not escape.

The Loss of Symbol
Jung then shifts to a critique that cuts close to home for the church. He writes, “We are surely the rightful heirs of Christian symbolism, but somehow we have squandered this heritage” (CW 9i, §28).

What he means is that the great symbols of Christianity—the cross, the resurrection, baptism, communion—were given as treasures of the soul. They were never meant to be dry ceremonies or abstract dogmas. They were meant to carry the full weight of the mystery of God into our lives. But when symbols lose their vitality, they no longer speak to the soul.

Jung warns that when this happens, “the vacuum gets filled with absurd political and social ideas” (CW 9i, §28). In other words, when people are not fed by living symbols, they will feed on substitutes. We see this everywhere today. People search for ultimate meaning in politics, in consumerism, in self-help slogans. None of these can bear the weight of the soul.

The wisdom of scripture agrees: “Where there is no vision, the people perish” (Proverbs 29:18). When symbols die, the imagination starves, and the soul grows thin.

The Vessels That Hold Us
Jung makes his point vivid by recalling the story of Brother Klaus, a mystic who was nearly destroyed by a terrifying vision of divine wrath. The vision was so overwhelming that it almost broke him. What saved him was not denying the vision but giving it a vessel. Through prayer, ritual, and symbol, he was able to contain and assimilate what would otherwise have consumed him.

This is why we need symbols. They are not optional ornaments. They are containers strong enough to hold the fire of God. Jung notes, “It is necessary for man to assimilate the symbol, otherwise he will be torn in two by the opposites” (CW 9i, §44). Without symbol, vision shatters us.

This is why Moses had to hide in the cleft of the rock when God’s glory passed by (Exodus 33:22). Without that cleft, he would not have survived. Symbols are those clefts for us. They are the ways God shelters us from being overwhelmed.

The Mirror of the Soul
Finally, Jung gives us one of his most haunting images. “Whoever looks into the water sees his own image, but behind it lives something else… the mirror does not flatter, it faithfully shows whatever looks into it” (CW 9i, §43).

To look into the unconscious is to look into a mirror. At first, we see only our own reflection. Often it is not flattering. We see our shadow, our repressed desires, our hidden fears. But Jung says there is more. Behind the image lives “something else.” If we stay with the mirror, if we do not turn away, we begin to glimpse the deeper life that animates us, the presence of God waiting to be revealed.

Paul says, “Now we see in a mirror dimly, but then we will see face to face” (1 Corinthians 13:12). For now the mirror confronts us with dim and difficult truths. But if we dare to keep looking, we prepare ourselves for the fuller vision of God’s face.

Why It Matters
Reading pages 11 through 20 of Jung has reminded me that faith is not about soaring above life. It is about entering it fully, even the parts we would rather avoid. It is about descending into the valley before we climb the mountain. It is about letting the Spirit inhabit our flesh rather than trying to escape it. It is about holding on to the living symbols that can contain God’s presence. It is about looking honestly into the mirror of the soul, even when the reflection is painful.

These are not abstract ideas. They touch everyday life. Descent looks like facing the grief you keep avoiding. Spirit in the flesh looks like discovering God’s presence in the middle of an ordinary argument or a kitchen full of dirty dishes. Living symbols look like slowing down enough in worship to let baptism, communion, or the cross really speak to you. The mirror looks like seeing yourself honestly in the words of your child, or in the pain of someone you have hurt, or in the dream that unsettles you.

A Reflection for the Week
Ask yourself this week: where am I being invited to descend? What mirror has been placed before me? What symbol have I taken for granted that I need to let speak again?

Write it down. Pray with it. Do not turn away too quickly.

The psalmist says, “If I make my bed in Sheol, you are there” (Psalm 139:8). Even in the depths, Christ has gone before us. And over the waters, the Spirit still whispers, “Let there be light.”