The archetypal drama associated in astrology with the action of the planet Neptune unfolds between two figures: the redeemer and the one who seeks redemption. On one side, we find ourselves as sinners, longing to encounter a purer and more spiritually elevated Other—someone who can cleanse us of the imperfections and bodily desires with which we were born, and through the experience of union with whom we may return once again to the bliss of Paradise. On the other side, we encounter ourselves again, this time identified with the role of the Savior, wishing to become that impeccably pure and holy being who, through compassion and purity of heart, can contribute to the salvation of the Other—or of others.
For the non-religiously minded individual, words such as sin, guilt, and redemption often fail to evoke emotional resonance or genuine understanding. In order to connect with the archetype that underlies them, we need to understand how it manifests on a psychological level—where recognition becomes possible. This is precisely what Liz Greene succeeds in doing in her book The Astrological Neptune and the Quest for Redemption.
She begins by presenting the myths associated with this watery god (Part One: The Mythology of Neptune). She then proceeds to explore the various concrete psychological forms that the archetype behind Neptune may assume in our lives (Part Two: The Psychology of Neptune). Here she also examines its distorted and pathological expressions, through which this archetypal energy may likewise manifest (the chapters The Discovery of the Unconscious, The Psychoanalytic Neptune, and The Death of Love).
The book then expands its scope to the broader stage of political and social life, helping us to make sense of irrational social movements, fanatical political ideologies, and cultural phenomena (Part Three: Neptune and the Collective). The final chapter is devoted to the astrological interpretation of Neptune’s placement in the individual natal chart.
Following the Introduction, I now share an excerpt from the third section of the First Chapter, The Coming of the Redeemer, which belongs to the mythological part of the book. This chapter introduces the central theme of the Neptune archetype—the quest for redemption—through psychological interpretations of various pre-Christian gods (Osiris, Dionysus, Orpheus, Mithras, Attis) as well as Christian symbols (the Virgin Birth, the Holy Spirit, the liturgy, baptism, the crucifixion, and redemption itself).
The following passage continues this exploration and is presented in an English translation from Bulgarian.
Redemption requires the office of a redeemer.
By its very nature, the longing for redemption presupposes a sense of something within the human being from which he or she must be saved—some sin or flaw that must be redeemed, cleansed, or transformed.In Neptune’s world, sin is associated with the transgression of separateness, which leads to the loss of Eden. Usually it is the instinctual nature and the earthly world inhabiting the body that are held responsible for this evil. Like the Gnostic cults, the Neptunian personality experiences matter as the domain of the demons of darkness. Thus, the redeemer is usually conceived as a figure who, in psychological terms, is not governed by affects. He or she is someone purer, better, and more forgiving; asexual, or at least not dominated by sexual needs; devoid of anger and aggression; unconditionally loving; and entirely willing to make any sacrifice for the sake of the lost souls under his or her care. These are the attributes of the idealized good mother seen through the eyes of the infant, although the redeemer in myth is usually—though not entirely—a man.
One of the earliest figures of the suffering redeemer can be found, as we have already seen, in Egyptian myth: the god Osiris, who is dismembered by his brother (or mother) and who, stripped of his phallus, becomes the ruler of the underworld and the guide of the souls of the dead. The image of the emasculated or celibate redeemer is one we will encounter in various guises among the figures we are about to examine. Here, in symbolic form, is the freedom from the impurity of the corporeal which, for Neptune alone, can reopen the locked gates of Heaven.
At the heart of the symbol of kingship lies the unity of the redeeming god and the king. The king was understood not as a political ruler, but as a divine vessel; and in prehistoric times this mythic interpretation of kingship was concretely enacted through the ritual sacrifice of the ruler at regular intervals, in order to secure the favor of the gods, the fertility of the Earth, and the survival and prosperity of the people. The irresistible fascination that royalty still holds for the modern world—despite the loud claims that it is obsolete and consumes too much of the taxpayers’ money—points to the power of this symbol of the redeemer of the nation: mortal like the rest of us, and yet mysteriously the mouthpiece of the gods who will redeem the debt of sinful humanity. It was this archetype that nurtured Hitler, enabling him to control the collective psyche of the German people through their projection onto him of the ancient myth of Siegfried. Thus, the king is also priest and sacrifice—a messiah, an “anointed one.”
This magical process by which a mortal becomes a vessel or vehicle for something immortal is one of the characteristic dynamics of Neptune in projection. The ordinary person—movie star, guru, political leader, pop musician, fashion model, lover—is somehow merged with that divine mana which carries the promise of redemption. Therefore, merging with the vessel—sexually, spiritually, or both—is synonymous with merging with God. The nature of Neptunian idealization is truly an experience of mystical complicity with the archetype of the redeemer. This process is inherently unconscious; all that remains is the feeling of exaltation that comes only with the presence of the chosen one.
Nostalgia for the idealized lost love, against which all potential new loves are measured and found wanting, is a characteristic Neptunian pattern.
Yet self-castration is a powerful Neptunian motive, and is often enacted on a psychological level by those who cannot or will not face the painful process of separation from the mother in order to experience the separating emotion of passion. Passion requires sufficient self-formation to desire another as other, and therefore one must risk rejection and suffering. The word passion in fact derives from the Latin passio—to suffer. Passion is therefore a form of hell. Neptune’s erotic longing is strangely passive; fusion contains no passion. For the individual confronted with the dilemma of a powerful Neptune combined with the strong passions of astrological significators such as Aries, Scorpio, or a dominant Pluto or Mars, symbolic self-castration—sexual impotence, debilitating illness, addiction, or a general passivity and self-victimization in life—may appear to be the only solution to the conflict.
Psychologically, all god-redeemers are “real.” Christianity, like any other religious approach, has many variations and hybrids offering different emphases and interpretations of the basic elements of the story. We must therefore consider the symbols themselves; for the archetypal figure of the victim-redeemer, encrusted with pagan as well as Christian motifs, will be unconsciously fused with those people, institutions, and ideologies onto which we project Neptunian longing. If we approach the Redeemer not as an actual past or future messiah, but as an image belonging to the psyche of each individual, then the story of Christ’s birth, life, crucifixion, and resurrection—as well as Christian ritual—acquires great significance as the enactment of an inner journey.
Sanctification, therefore, involves the transformation of worldly substance into the substance of the Redeemer. The yellowed valentine is transformed into the absent beloved; the dusty teddy bear becomes the love and warmth of a vanished childhood; the skull in the glass case of an abandoned church becomes the faith, courage, and healing power of a dead saint. We are in the realm of Neptune, and we have projected something into the object that in turn changes something in us—but what is it? Bread becomes flesh; wine becomes blood. This involves a miracle at the moment of transformation. The bread and wine are quite ordinary, and the priest is merely a man—or, more recently, a woman. The members of the congregation are also ordinary people, carrying their daily burden of sin. Yet the ritual of the liturgy takes this ordinary reality and transforms it step by step; and in that moment, for the believer, Christ is present in time and space through the Holy Spirit—consumed by the participant and spreading the miracle of redemption through his or her mind, body, and heart. The liturgy creates a mystical unity, infusing the living presence of Christ into the priest, the congregation, the bread, the wine, and the incense. Thus the rite presents, in condensed form, the life and sufferings of Christ.
In Christian doctrine, the crucifixion is an event that is foreknown and accepted. The man Jesus embraces this destiny for the sake of humanity held captive; and we are presented with the theme of compassionate sacrifice—a shared experience of human destiny offered in atonement for the sins of the children of Adam and Eve. From this central symbol we can understand much about the strangely passive way in which the Neptune-dominated individual so often tolerates and even revels in his or her misery. This is usually deeply confusing both to the person concerned and to the astrologer or psychotherapist attempting to offer help. Sometimes it seems that all the insights and positive suggestions in the world cannot dislodge Neptune’s addiction to pain. Yet the voluntary embrace of suffering by the redeemer on behalf of his wandering flock tells us something about the unconscious pattern at work on a personal level. Whether the “acting out” of the myth of the redeemer’s sacrifice truly resolves the pain of separateness so acutely experienced by those with strong Neptune remains a question to be explored in greater depth later. But such personal martyrdom is an unconscious identification with the Redeemer, as well as an appeal to him—however irreligious the individual may be in conscious life.
It is clear that the theme of voluntary suffering and the renunciation of earthly happiness lies at the heart of the Christian vision of redemption. The descendants of Adam and Eve can regain entry into Paradise only by fully embracing the misery inflicted upon them by life.
— Based on passages from Liz Greene, The Astrological Neptune and the Quest for Redemption, Chapter One (English translation from Bulgarian)
