A Larger Hope 2
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McClymond seeks to strengthen his case by arguing that, in his late work Mysterium Magnum, Böhme’s theology softened and opened up to a kind of salvific inclusivism, taking in those heathen, Jews, and Muslims who “remain within the light principle” (DR, 481). But inclusivism addresses the question of how one is saved, not how many are saved. Inclusivists can be universalists, but there is no reason why they must. Similarly, universalists can be inclusivists, but they do not have to be. Böhme’s late inclusivism is neither universalism nor in itself a step closer to it.
McClymond further points out that some passages in Böhme’s late text The Election of Grace indicate that he later started to see God as pure love and as containing no darkness. Now, if Böhme did change his mind and end up moving away from his earlier claims about eternal light and dark in God, then fair enough. But the extent to which he did so is the extent to which his theology took a step in a less problematic direction. And if the answer to the question of how Böhme was the ancestor of universalism is “Because he eventually rejected his earlier views and came to teach that ‘God is light and in him there is no darkness at all’ (1 John 1:5)” then this is either uninteresting or harmless, because in effect all it is saying is that he inspired universalism by abandoning his earlier gnostic-like ideas and ended up promoting an ancient and orthodox Christian teaching.
Finally, McClymond points to a passage from The Signature of Things, chapter 16, in which Böhme argues that what is good or evil is relative to the subject. Thus, hell is evil for angels and good for demons; heaven is good for angels and evil for demons. McClymond argues that this subjectivization of good and evil leads to a view that heaven and hell are simply subjective perceptions and then it becomes hard to maintain a “no exit” view of hell because all that one needs to do to move from hell to heaven is to change one’s mind. His claim is not that Böhme went in this direction—he did not—but that the potential was there in his thought for others to exploit. The first problem here is that the followers of Böhme that embraced universalism did not do so for this reason. The second problem is that Böhme seems to be speaking about good and evil being relative to created natures: “Hell is Evil to angels, for they were not created thereunto” (italics mine), and it is good for demons because they were created for that environment. Think about the way that living underwater is good for a fish and bad for a cat. That does not mean that cats simply need to change their mind about how they experience water to be able to take the plunge. So, this is seemingly part of Böhme’s eternal cosmic dualism. It does not obviously convert into universalism in the way that McClymond suggests without some significant tinkering elsewhere in Böhme’s system.14
In sum, I repeat, one searches McClymond’s analysis in vain for a convincing exposition of how Böhme’s teachings led to a belief in universal salvation. If there is a pathway, McClymond has failed to illuminate it.
Now universalists certainly drew other ideas from him—for instance, William Law’s use of Böhme to develop an anti-deistic account of how Christ transforms us from within15—but, to repeat, they did not get universal reconciliation from him, either directly or indirectly. Universalism is to all appearances incompatible with Böhme’s own system of thought as he himself presented it. To incorporate it properly, one needs to modify some important aspects of his theology. This too McClymond acknowledges: “Böhme identifies good and evil as ‘one thing’ . . . Yet later reception of Böhme’s thought indicate that this idea did not play well. . . . It was too radical a notion for many of those who appreciated other aspects of Böhme’s thought” (DR, 479). Instead, many admirers of Böhme swapped out this troubling idea for one in which God is unqualified love, light, and goodness. In so doing, they rejected Böhme’s important idea of an eternal dualism of light and dark (DR, 479–80). This major move was necessary for the coherent affirmation of non-eternal hell and universal salvation.
William Law exemplifies the widespread shift very clearly with his strong declarations of God’s goodness and love and his fervent denial of wrath in God (DR, 480).16 Understood against the background of Böhme’s duality of wrath and mercy in God one could plausibly see Law’s declarations as a distancing of himself—whether intentional or not—from this important aspect of Böhme’s teaching. Alternatively, he may simply be interpreting Böhme through a theological grid that filtered out ideas of duality and latched on to Böhme’s declarations about God’s goodness, mercy, and love.17 Alan Gregory observes that “without referring to it in any way, Law abandons all the most obviously heterodox elements in Boehme’s theology.”18 And we should note that it was Law’s version of Böhmism that was such an inspiration for many of the nineteenth-century universalists like George MacDonald and Andrew Jukes.
It is perhaps ironic that the move to embrace universal salvation among some of Böhme’s admirers and to reject Böhme’s teaching on eternal hell and evil’s origin in God’s dark principle was precisely the move that brought sections of “Böhmism” closer to Christian orthodoxy.
2. Jane Lead and the shift to universalism
So what happened? McClymond is correct in arguing that the shift to universalism took place principally in and through the English Böhmist Jane Lead (1624–1704), “whose most important departure from the teaching of Jakob Böhme, by her own admission, was her affirmation of universal salvation” (DR, 503). It was she who had a life-changing vision that led her to embrace “the everlasting gospel.” It was her influence that set off a chain reaction that eventually worked its way through the international networks of Böhme’s admirers so that the Böhmian “tradition,” such as it was, shifted in significant part in universalist directions.
What is somewhat obscured in McClymond’s account is just how major this shift was—at least once it had reconfigured Böhme’s thought around itself. To start with, Lead incorporated the idea within an insufficiently modified version of Böhmism, one that still sought the principles of light and dark in God, yielding a system that was now inconsistent. However, its full integration required a fundamental alteration to Böhme’s doctrine of God. This was made explicit in Francis Lee (DR, 505), Lead’s follower, who was clear that a dualism of darkness and light in God is incompatible with the temporal hell taught by Jane Lead. Universalism works best with a non-dual vision of the Deity (DR, 505). And such is what we find in the universalisms that trace their original spark back to Jane Lead.
We also need to observe that Jane Lead was very well aware that, with universal salvation, she was introducing an unexpected new idea to Böhme’s readers. Their natural response would be this: If Böhme was inspired by God, why had God not made this truth clear to him? Indeed, why did he teach eternal hell? Thus, she felt the need to offer an apologetic for the move. “I must own that Jacob Behmen did open a deep Foundation of the Eternal Principles, and was a worthy Instrument in his Day. But it [i.e., the revelation of universal restoration] was not given to him, neither was it Time for the unsealing of this Deep.”19 This, she claimed, was a new insight into the meaning of Scripture, given for the church of the last days.
In sum, universalism did not arise naturally as an entailment of Böhme’s thought—indeed, it is hard to imagine it doing so. Rather, it was introduced into the communities of his admirers as a new idea from outside that purportedly came via a divine revelation. And its introduction led fairly rapidly to a shift in the doctrine of God away from that taught by Böhme to a theology in which God is pure light and love in God’s essence. So it seems odd to describe Böhme as one who laid the foundation for modern universalism.
3. How Böhmist are McClymond’s Böhmist universalists?
McClymond’s thesis is that Böhme is the hidden inspiration behind vast swathes of Christian universalists since the seventeenth century. He lists twenty-five people in his Appendix G, and explores them and others in various degrees of depth in the main text. The implication is that the inspiration behind their universalism was his
mystical theology. There are several things to say here.
First, McClymond is absolutely right to highlight that Böhme was read by many people, universalists and others, and was influential in some intellectual and religious circles. But of course, there is no neat link between Böhme and universalism. For starters, as McClymond himself shows, one could arrive at universalism without any Böhmist influence. James Relly (1722–78) and John Murray (1741–1816) strongly disliked Böhme, as did Charles Chauncy (1705–87) (DR, 564). Not all universalists got to their views through religious groups with Böhmist influences. As such, universalist ideas cannot be considered to sink or swim with Böhme’s mysticism, but must be considered on their own theological merits and demerits.
Second, it is worth noting that not all on the list of “Böhmist universalists” are obviously influenced by Böhme at all. Take Gerald Winstanley. We have no direct evidence that he read Böhme or was influenced by his ideas, for he never refers to, quotes from, or alludes to the Teutonic mystic. However, McClymond speculates that he was influenced (DR, 494). We know that one of his associates in the Diggers, William Everard, knew John Poradge, the English Böhmist. So there is a potential indirect connection. And Winstanley’s publications certainly have an esoteric flavor, like Böhme’s. However, McClymond’s suggestion is weakly founded. Winstanley’s universalist book was published in 1648, while Böhme’s works were only published in English in London from 1645 to 1662. So Winstanley would have had to have been at the very cutting-edge of positive reception of Böhme. Add to this the fact that, during the time of his writing, he had little financial means, so likely had few books. Ariel Hessayon, in a study of the dissemination and reception of Böhme’s work in England during the seventeenth century, argues that “it seems certain that Winstanley did not consult any of Boehme’s works while writing his own. It also seems very probable that he never read Boehme. The disparities between them [in content, vocabulary, and style] are far too great.”20 More to the point, even if there was some influence, Winstanley’s universalist book was published almost fifty years before any Böhmists had moved to embrace universal salvation, so Winstanley’s universalism was his own, not Böhme-inspired.
Third, we need to be attentive to the very different degrees to which Böhme’s thought influenced those whom McClymond classifies as Böhmist universalists. Some were paid-up, card-carrying admirers and followers. Here one thinks of Anne Conway, Jane Lead, William Law, and Richard Roach, among others. (Though, to repeat, even in most of these cases, some of the more problematic aspects of the mystic’s thought were toned down or eradicated or construed in more orthodox-friendly directions.) Others that McClymond considers to be Böhmist universalists were arguably only very marginally influenced by his ideas. All of them were people who had likely read something by Böhme (or by later Böhmists) and indeed had appreciated aspects of what they read, but to classify them as Böhmists would be misleading. In the whirling atmosphere of seventeenth-century Protestant thought, drawing some influences, direct and indirect, from esotericism (e.g., alchemy, Kabbalah, Böhme) was not at all unusual. But there is a big difference between suggesting some influence—perhaps a few ideas or some terminology—and seeing such sources as providing important or even structural elements.21 As an example, take Puritan universalist Peter Sterry. Sterry found profit in reading Böhme, encountering “rich Depths, Sweet Heights” in his texts. However, he also warns, “1. The Lord have him [Böhme] his Spirit by measure leaving much Darkness mingled with his light. 2. They yt reade him, had neede come to him well instructed in ye Mystery of Christ. . . . Others will bee perverted by him.”22 This ought to serve as a warning against the simplistic and hasty move of classifying anyone who drew inspiration from Böhme as a “Böhmist.”
Consider Jeremiah White, another Puritan universalist. McClymond places him in the “Böhmist universalist” category (DR, 81, 1131) yet it is interesting that he does so without reference to anything in White’s book save a posthumous introduction written by (we think) Richard Roach, a follower of Jane Lead (DR, 508). This may well suggest some links between White and people in Böhmist networks. But McClymond makes no mention of the content of the White’s book and its arguments. Yet if one reads the book, one finds oneself in a very different world from that of Jakob Böhme. White’s text owes far more to Puritanism, Reformed theology, and Scripture than it does to visions and esotericism. McClymond’s readers would remain oblivious of this fact and would come away thinking of White in the same camp as Lead.
Another example: Elhanan Winchester. McClymond describes him as “the most wide-ranging and successful evangelist in early American and British universalism” (DR, 592). It is fascinating that, out of Winchester’s massive publishing output, only the content of a single sermon is mentioned by McClymond—“The Seed of the Woman Bruising the Serpent’s Head” (1781). This is the very first universalist publication from Winchester, and it does indeed contain some Böhmist themes (e.g., an androgynous Adam, heavenly Sophia, the principles of fire, water, and nature).23 What is striking, however, is that if one was to read the rest of Winchester’s considerable and important output of universalist books, one is immediately struck by how anomalous this first sermon is. I have not found Böhmist themes in any of his other works. He seemed to briefly toy with them before losing interest. Instead, what one finds is a passion with mainstream evangelical theological themes of his day and with the interpretation of the Bible (understandable given that Winchester’s shaping background was the Evangelical Revival, as a Baptist preacher). But readers of McClymond’s book would have no idea at all of the way that Winchester sought to carefully build his case for universal salvation from Scripture, interpreted more or less in the plain sense. Instead, Winchester too would be seen as another example of an off-the-peg esoteric universalist.
Furthermore, even some of those closer to the Böhmist flame draw little on such mystical speculations in their universalist theologizing. Take Paul Siegvolck’s influential book, The Everlasting Gospel (German, 1700; English, 1753). It was written, as McClymond notes, by a German Radical Pietist who inhabited circles in which Böhme’s writings were much admired. But if one reads the book itself—and again McClymond says almost nothing about its actual content—it reads as a book primarily concerned with fairly mainstream issues in the Christian theology of its day and the interpretation of biblical texts and themes. To describe it as a “Böhmist tract” (DR, 486, 564) is as endarkening as it is enlightening.24
The danger with McClymond’s thesis is that he approaches each universalist looking for any and every connection he can make between them and Böhme. He draws attention to their awareness of Böhme’s work and any possible Böhmian ideas and terminology in their work. This is interesting and worthwhile. The problem, however, is that on various occasions certain important question are not asked: What role do these ideas from Böhme play in the overall thought of this universalist? Are they central, peripheral, or something in between? Are they related to the notion of universal salvation in this thinker? If so, how? Instead, once a link with Böhme is found, the universalist is classified as a Böhmist and the implication drawn is that their universalism is built upon heterodox mystical speculations. But a careful study of their works indicates that the foundations of their universalist idea are not constructed in this way, so the theory can sometimes lead to searching for confirmatory evidence and ignoring the bread and butter of the books mentioned.25
At times, I wondered whether the Böhmist metanarrative was made to appear more powerful than it is by passing over significant universalist publications that do not fit the model. For instance, Charles Chauncy’s The Mystery Hid from Ages and Generations (1784) received some passing mentions, but no discussion. Chauncy, who could not tolerate Böhme, became a universalist through his studies of the Bible, and his book was an unusually scholarly attempt to defend that thesis from Scripture. As such, it arguably warrants attention for being somewhat diffe
rent from many others, as most universalist writers of the period were not academically trained. The same could be said about George Stonehouse’s three publications (1761, 1768, 1773), which only receive a single footnote reference in McClymond.26 Yet Stonehouse was a serious biblical scholar and arguably deserved some attention for his attempt to demonstrate the scriptural nature of universalism. Of course, McClymond could not possibly explore every person who published on universalism, and he rightly makes no attempt to do so, but that he did not discuss the merits of the two most academically rigorous eighteenth-century attempts to demonstrate the biblical nature of the idea is a little surprising.27
I have no intention of denying that Böhme’s ideas exercised some influence on many universalists in the late seventeenth to early twentieth century, for it is clear that they did. In some cases, it was a strong influence; in others, a minor one. But in no cases did the universalist idea itself emerge from Böhme’s thinking. Rather, Böhmist ideas were accommodated around a universalism that had other roots. And in most cases, the justifications offered for universalism were drawn from the Bible and Christian theology.
Perhaps you think I protest too much. After all, surely the recurring presence of Böhme, whether as a major or minor influence, must be more than a coincidence. Of course it is. After the universalist shift that came with Jane Lead, many of those who admired Böhme become universalists, so it is no surprise that the streams that flowed on from them were streams that carried versions of universalism influenced by varying degrees of (modified) Böhmism. One would expect to find many universalists also sympathetic to Böhme. His recurring presence does not mean that “in modern Christian universalism, almost all roads lead back to Böhme” (DR, 563), or that he “laid the foundation” for the various buildings of modern universalism. I think he is more like the person who provided some builders with important elements like a wall, doors, windows, and a chimney, others with wallpaper and carpet, still others with a few decorations, while some builders kicked him out on his backside.