On Franz Bardon, Faith and Hermeticism

In the rush to judge others, I’ve found it serves me well to attempt (often very imperfectly) to redirect that instinct inward. This little rule is more aspirational than anything. I certainly can’t take credit for its wisdom.

The 20th century Hermeticist Franz Bardon‘s writings are regarded far differently than the dignified, ancient works of the Corpus Hermeticum. There is not much in the way of academic attention to Bardon. Most religion scholars discussing Hermeticism only begrudgingly acknowledge the place of modern contributions in its long arc of philosophy. Despite Bardon’s lack of critical treatment, he’s a hero to contemporary practitioners of Hermeticism and high magick.

His book Initiation Into Hermetics encourages initiates to set very high standards for themselves. Yet they must be tender with others. For Bardon to hold fast to this outlook must have taken tremendous grace—he was held hostage by the Nazi party. Bardon wouldn’t yield to their insistence that he share his occult talents. History is riddled with tyrants attempting to influence infernal or heavenly realms with a hellish agenda. Metaphysics were often weaponized in attempts to expand empires. Germany was no exception. Bardon was not cooperative, though. As a result he was kept in a concentration camp until USSR soldiers liberated him. Years later he was arrested again, this time for being a “charlatan.” He died in police custody—not an unusual fate for a magician.

Bardon showed remarkable courage in his resistance. It cost him dearly. But what is courage if not faith that overrides our fears? Could anything less be expected from him?

It’s nearly a century later and another cycle of genocide is occurring; a terrible waltz humanity insists on repeating. What is the role of a spiritual leader in a time like this? In an era of sponsorships and paid partnerships, there is scarcely a popular figure who will speak truth to power. A figure like Bardon, both beloved by a following and absolutely brimming with integrity, is rare and precious. The relationship between truth and privilege is intertwined, and not always for good. Yet it is easy to judge the silence of others without having anything to lose. Obscurity can be cruel, but it can also be a form of freedom. I remind myself this when I am inclined to judge the silence of others.

Some survivalist instinct hardwires us to have the least generous assumptions. We imagine closets filled with skeletons but never angels, chock full of secret good deeds instead of bad ones.

Often those in leadership positions have mouths to feed. They have causes and people to care for. A delicate balance must be carefully negotiated. I understand this perspective more as I encounter people in these tight spots. This is perhaps not the wisest direction to cast my empathy, yet I know that love is not finite. Still, for those who take on a role of spiritual leadership—whether it was asked for or not—there are rules attached.

We cannot approach Truth and Wisdom lightly. What are these things without faith? Without it, they are empty vessels. When we find ourselves lacking faith, it is time to seek it out. This may mean we have to take a pause from our work, leave others with unfulfilled expectations for a time. There’s a chance the search will feel very much like abandonment. Even those with answers need time to question and be lost. A flock that is abandoned finds light in the darkness. The eternal spirit of Hermeticism will reach us all, as it always does. We are mere messengers. We will all return to each other in faith.