Eliade, Jābir, & the Alchemical Path

In the exploration of alchemy's profound significance, the interplay between Mircea Eliade's philosophical insights and the contributions of the renowned Islamic alchemist Jābir ibn Hayyan emerges as a rich tapestry of metaphysical inquiry and practical wisdom. Eliade, in his seminal works, posits that alchemy transcends its materialistic connotations, embodying a sacred art intertwined with the divine processes of transformation and regeneration. This perspective resonates deeply with Jābir’s alchemical philosophy, where he perceives the transmutation of base metals not merely as a physical endeavor but as a spiritual journey toward the perfection of the human self and the cosmos. Through a close reading of some key texts and the mystical underpinnings of alchemical practice, I will attempt to elucidate how Eliade's theories provide a compelling framework for understanding Jābir’s contributions within the broader context of Islamic thought.

Further, by situating Jābir within the rich intellectual milieu of the Islamic Golden Age, the discussion may or may not reveal the synthesis of Hellenistic, Persian, and indigenous Arab traditions that informed his work. Central to this comparative exploration is the recognition that the alchemical process, as articulated by Jābir, mirrors the transformative journey of the soul, invoking an imaginal quest for higher consciousness and spiritual enlightenment. Moreover, the following words highlight the enduring legacy of Jābir’s teachings, which continue to inspire contemporary seekers of wisdom, emphasizing that alchemy, in its essence, is an invitation to engage with the divine mysteries of existence. Thus, this study not only illuminates the historical and philosophical dimensions of alchemy but also serves as a clarion call for modern practitioners to embrace the alchemical path as a means of personal and spiritual transformation.

Mircea Eliade, a Romanian scholar of religion (d. 1986), in his exploration of alchemy, traces the roots of the art back to the sacred worldview held by ancient metallurgists, smiths, and potters, who saw their craft as more than mere material manipulation. He noted, that in ancient Egypt and Mesopotamia, the transformation of matter—whether metal or clay—was understood as a divine act, where the artisan was a participant in the cosmic order. Alchemy, in this context, was the highest expression of this sacred knowledge, reflecting the intimate relationship between matter and the unseen forces of creation.

Eliade emphasizes for the student of alchemy that the alchemists of antiquity did not see their work as separate from the processes of nature but rather as a sacred collaboration with it. For these practitioners, the furnace was not merely a tool but a symbolic microcosm of the universe itself, a space where cosmic forces could be concentrated and directed with knowledge of elemental proportions. As the raw materials underwent transformation, they mirrored the processes of birth, death, and renewal that governed the natural world. The alchemist, therefore, stood as both a servant of inspiration and co-creator with the sacred powers that animated the cosmos. Eliade also draws attention to how ancient alchemists understood gold not just as a material substance but as a symbol of divine perfection, a reflection of the eternal light, the metaphysical Sun, that permeated the universe. In their imaginal purview, gold represented the culmination of nature’s striving toward wholeness, embodying the spiritual purity that transcends the mutable world. To transmute base metals into gold was not simply to change their physical shape; it was to accelerate and perfect the natural processes of the earth, aligning the alchemist’s work with the archetypal intelligence that guided the cosmic forms.

This understanding of alchemy as a sacred art finds resonance in various ancient cultures, from the Egyptian mythology and metaphysics to the Greco-Roman, Indo-Chinese, and Islamic Sufism. For all the esoteric dimension of religions believe, that is, know intuitively, that the material world was imbued with a divine spark. Alchemists were gnostics. They sought to unlock this hidden potential through a process that mirrored the cosmic cycles of creation, destruction, and rebirth. Eliade highlights that the materia prima, the raw material of the alchemical opus, symbolized the undifferentiated chaos from which the cosmos itself was formed. In this way, alchemical work became an act of cosmogony—a recreation, a projectio of the primordial act of perpetual creation. Moreover, Eliade connects this never changing process of evolution to the ancient mythologies of death and rebirth, such as the myth of Osiris in Egypt, where the dismemberment and reconstitution of the god mirrored the alchemist’s work of solve et coagula, the breaking down, purifying, and coagulating. Just as Osiris was reborn in the underworld, alchemical transmutation was seen as a process of spiritual regeneration, both for the materials being transformed and for the adept himself. The philosopher's stone, often depicted as the ultimate goal of the alchemist; it was too more than a substance—it was a symbol of knowledge, a consciousness connecting the soul’s journey toward oneness.

Through this ahistorical comparative approach, therefore, we can draw parallels between Eliade vis a vis Jābir ibn Hayyan, noting, for example, that not too far fetched goals for them was the production of gold, the attainment of immortality, both in a physical and spiritual sense. This mirrors the Western alchemical focus indeed, not only the Chinese and Indian. Alchemy is the art of perfecting matter and soul. In both Eliade’s and Jābir’s work, we find the adept's inner quest for wisdom. An endeavor of a spiritual path aimed at achieving harmony with the cosmic order and realizing the vocational potential inherent within. Eliade’s examination of alchemy in religious traditions reveals that alchemy was fundamentally a religious act, a sacred science rooted in the belief that the universe was imbued with a divine purpose. It is worth saying again and again that the alchemist’s work was a reflection of this ordering principle, a process that not only transformed matter but also sought to reveal the hidden treasure that loves to be known. Known between the material and spiritual worlds. Whether in the fires of the furnace or in the alchemical texts, the alchemist was engaged in an image process of unveiling the divine mysteries that lay at the heart of creativity.

In this light, Eliade could not stop his pen from writing that alchemical work was a form of hierophany—a manifestation of the sacred in the material world. The transformation of base metals into gold was not merely a technological achievement. It was a ritualized reenactment of the divine process of creation itself. As the alchemist participated in this sacred work, he not only sought to perfect matter but also to perfect the universe, aligning his soul with the ouroboric rhythms of the cosmos and time. Through the mastery of the elements and the knowledge of cosmic cycles, the alchemist aimed to achieve a state of gnosis, where the boundaries between the material and spiritual worlds dissolved, revealing the eternal, unchanging truth at the heart of being and knowing.

To the Arab alchemists, the sacred utterance of al-kīmiyā, الكيمياء, resonated with meaning far beyond its so-called material connotations. Rooted, as scholars would remind us, in the ancient Greek khemia, itself a shadow cast by the Egyptian khem, the "black land," rich and fertile as the Nile’s soil—it is a phrase we see in every alchemical book. But what truly lies beneath? Some thinkers grasp the Egyptian mysteries, or their metaphysical depths, from which, as Jan Assmann suggests, the esotericism of Jewish wisdom was born (see Jan Assmann, Moses the Egyptian).

In the rich Islamic tradition—alchemy is not merely a craft as superficially imaged by some scholars; it stands as the prophetic knowledge or ilm anbiyaʾ, the profound and sacred knowledge of the prophets, as articulated by esteemed scholars such as Peter Kingsley and Henry Corbin. Here, alchemy is no mere artifact that belongs solely to Neoplatonism, Gnosticism, or even Hermetic lore, even though the reverberations of these ancient echoes might faintly hum in its presence. Instead, it is through the revered Shi’i Imams, starting with Ali ibn Abu Talib (a.s), that alchemy takes on a deeper, mystical, and sacred significance. The treasured alchemical knowledge of the old philosophers (Maryānus to Khālid for instance) were indeed transmitted and then translated into Arabic, yet before these translations took firm root, the transformative flame was kindled within the Qur’anic exegesis of the Prophet’s family—who, following the tragic massacre at Karbala, were silenced, murdered, leaving their profound wisdom quietly concealed within the heart of the surviving Imam, Zain ul-Abideen (a.s). Be that as it not a may but a historical fact, we must not dwell too long upon the twists of political chaos within Islam here.

Let me solemnly say that the translation of alchemical texts into Arabic gained true momentum in the 8th century, flowing through both Baghdad and Alexandria. Though Alexandria first shone as a beacon of learning, it was Baghdad, under the Abbasid caliphs, that grew to become the intellectual heart of the Islamic world. The House of Wisdom, Bayt al-Hikma (see Aaron Cheak’s ref. on p. 295 in Alchemical Traditions), rose under Harun al-Rashid and his son al-Ma’mun, where Greek, Persian, and Indian manuscripts were drawn into the Arabic tongue. In these halls, the secrets of alchemy found new life—Sufi masters like Jābir ibn Hayyan, known to the scholars as the father of alchemy, yet a student of the sixth Imam, Jaffar al Sādiq (a.s), wove their theories into the fabric of Islamic thought. And with them, figures such as Hunayn ibn Ishāq translated the ancient medical, philosophical, and alchemical texts that had long whispered of the cosmos’ hidden order.

By the 11th and 12th centuries, the great torrent of translation had slowed, for the Islamic world had already absorbed the vast treasures of alchemical wisdom. The alchemists no longer required the tongues of foreign lands to unveil the mysteries—they held in their hands the keys to a sacred corpus, a legacy that would continue to illuminate the subtle paths of psyche and matter, revealing the divine mysteries that threaded through both realms.

Yet the alchemists of the 8th to 10th centuries, those heirs of an older tradition, saw themselves as co-creators, partners in the hidden processes. They believed they could hasten what the ancestors themselves would take millennia to achieve. To aid and honor them in their legacy was not only a scientific act but a spiritual one, for in their view, Prophetic knowledge was the very handiwork of the divine archetypes or angels. Even now, in the practices of Sufi masters, this alchemical heritage endures. Only a few understand the coniunctio of practical mastery with the mystical pursuit of hikmah, divine wisdom.

For figures like Jābir ibn Hayyan, alchemy was not just a manipulation of metallurgical theories or a crude laboratory experiment in material transformation. No, for Jābir, alchemy represented a sacred art, the middle path of wisdom. It was an imaginal journey of transmutation, both within and without—paralleling the perfection of the soul with the refinement of the body. To purify the body was to purify the self. Thus, from the ancient Egyptians to the Hellenistic sages and down through the Islamic masters, alchemy was understood as a hieratic art. Not only a craft, but an esoteric practice that united the transformation of the material world with the ascent of the spirit. To manipulate matter was to participate with the organizing principle and to ascend in consciousness, and to draw nearer to God who is both the Source and the End of all transformation. In this sacred union of matter and spirit, alchemy revealed its deepest truth—that by transmuting the world without, one could achieve a higher state of being within.

The Sacred Forge: Eliade’s Vision of Alchemy, Creation, and Spiritual Transformation

In his book The Forge and the Crucible (1956), Eliade writes that the alchemist, like the smith and potter, is a “master of fire.” Fire allows him to change matter quickly. The first potter, using live embers to harden clay shapes, must have felt the excitement of creating something new. He discovered a way to transform materials much faster than natural processes would allow. This excitement or as Eliade says,“demiurgic enthusiasm,” comes from realizing that the key lies in working faster than nature to harness cosmic forces safely. This notion, which Eliade gives us, is thought-provoking and evokes the image of Hephaistos, the Greek fire god, as if, shaping myths into reality (see Rod Blackhirst’s chapter in Alchemical Traditions). Eliade's note regarding this enthusiasm highlights the timeless fascination with transforming ordinary objects into something remarkable, a pursuit that has fascinated both philosophers and alchemists. Beneath this quest, there was a deeper aim: to understand and explain this demiurgical process.

Mircea Eliade, in his profound meditations on the alchemical tradition, reveals that the alchemist's work was viewed as a divine participation in the slow, secret rhythms of the cosmos. Nature, in her own quiet patience, labors to transmute base metals into gold, following a hidden blueprint of perfection that stretches across the ages. The alchemist, however, dares to enter into this divine process, not as a disruptor but as an agent of acceleration. Through his sacred art, he seeks to quicken the pulse of nature, to ripen what would otherwise require millennia under the patient hands of time.

This act is no mere technical feat, but a deeply mythopoetic one—a weaving together of the alchemist’s will with the silent will of the gods. The furnace, where lead turns to gold, becomes a symbolic hearth, a miniature sun. This is where celestial and terrestrial forces meet in union. Here, the alchemist does not impose upon nature. He first listens to her rhythms, learns her language, and guides her processes toward meaning. In speeding up the natural course, the alchemist imitates the archetypal patterns, drawing down the eternal into the temporal. He is illuminating the hidden golden essence that lies dormant in that which he is working with, the materia prima. Through this collaboration, time collapses, and for a moment, the alchemist glimpses the divine mystery of creation. The mundane world is imbued with the light of transcendence. Many years before James Hillman, Mircea Eliade reminded us that it is in this mystical fusion of man, nature, and the spirit of time that alchemy unfolds its greatest secret—not just the making of gold, but the making of soul.

For Eliade, the alchemist is a craftsman. But he is also an active participant in the sacred drama of creation. Eliade sees the alchemist not as one who simply manipulates matter, but as one who collaborates with nature in her slow flamed, hidden work—accelerating a divine process that, left to its own course, would unfold over a long period of time. Again, and this is important to understand, mother nature, in her subterranean womb, quietly and imperceptibly transforms matter, a labor as ancient as the cosmos itself. Yet this transformation occurs on a timescale far beyond the reach of human perception, shrouded in mystery and veiled from the everyday world. So, it is here, Eliade tells us, that the alchemist steps in, not to interrupt but to assist—to quicken nature’s rhythms and align his sacred art with the invisible processes that guide the universe. Through his rituals, knowledge, and deep attunement to the metaphysical laws of the cosmos, the alchemist is able to “ripen” matter, helping it achieve the perfection toward which it naturally tends. This ripening is not a crude forcing of the earth’s hand, but a sacred collaboration, where the boundaries between man and cosmos blur, and the alchemist becomes a channel through which divine forces flow. But through this process, the alchemist’s act of transforming matter is not without changing himself. Matter takes form through him. For Eliade, this alchemical process is more than a technical achievement. It is through this sacred art that the alchemist mirrors the divine creation of the world, compressing not only time, bending it to reveal eternity in a fleeting moment of transformation, but also, able to connect with himself through symbols. In the furnace, the alchemist not only shapes metals but also glimpses the eternal mystery of forms becoming, of matter, and spirits, descending, and ascending in a dynamism toward perfection. Here, the human and the divine meet, in the imaginal, and through the alchemist’s hands, the ancient dream of transforming the world becomes a reality—a brief opening into the timeless gate, where gold is not just a metal, but a symbol of cosmic and spiritual illumination.

Mircea Eliade delves deeply into the rich symbolic nature of metallurgical and alchemical processes. Like C. G. Jung, he offers a more expansive and nuanced view of alchemy as a profound form of spiritual transformation. He explains that the ancient blacksmiths and metalworkers—who can be seen as early forerunners of the alchemists—were regarded as magicians. They possessed a unique and intimate relationship with nature itself. Their work with metals was perceived not simply as manual labor but rather as a sacred craft that mirrored the complex processes of cosmic creativity. They skillfully harnessed the immense power of fire and air, elements viewed as both destructive and purifying, to transform raw materia into something new, meaningful, and valuable. For the ancients, fire was revered as divine, and the act of smelting, forging, and transmuting metal became a kind of sacred ritual, symbolizing not only the physical transformation of matter but also a deeper psychological transformation of the human self, revealing the interconnectedness of body and vital realms.

I believe that this understanding of metallurgical work as a spiritual process was at the root of later alchemical traditions. Muslim alchemists inherited this vision, viewing their attempts to transmute base metals into gold as mirroring the cosmic process of transformation, a religious participation in the unfolding of creation by God through his angels. The furnace or crucible in which metals were melted and purified became a powerful metaphor for the alchemist’s own being—a place where inner impurities were “burned away” to reveal a purified, enlightened state of being. This perspective highlights the inherently sacred dimension of alchemy, where the outer work of transforming matter was always tied to an inner, self transformation, or simply put, inner work.

Eliade draws attention to the initiatory nature of the alchemical process, where the practitioner underwent trials akin to those of a religious or spiritual initiation. The alchemist's journey into the nigredo, albedo, and rubedo stages of the Great Work or magnum opus was not merely a chemical process thus but a reflection of the stages of death, purification, and rebirth in and of the human soul. The alchemical work or inner opus became a metaphor for the sacred journey of the human enthusiasm toward enlightenment, represented the attainment of a transcendent consciousness.

To me, Mircea Eliade’s work is important for alchemy students, particularly his book The Forge and the Crucible, which illuminates the spiritual and cosmological dimensions embedded within the craft of the blacksmith from a mythic sensibility. For Eliade, the forge is more than just a power of technical activity. It is a sacred space and time where/when primal elements—earth, fire, air, and water—are united to give shape, quality, and form to matter. The blacksmith, and by extension the alchemist, is an archetypal figure who imitates the cosmogonic act of creation. He shapes raw, chaotic matter into something new, ordered, just, beautiful, a process Eliade views as a symbolic reenactment of the divine creation of the world-soul.

Eliade emphasizes that the transmutation of metals was a spiritual operation, one that paralleled the inner transformation of the practitioner. The furnace, or crucible, where metals were melted and purified, symbolized the purification of the soul through suffering, trial, and contemplation. In alchemical terms, this operation is often referred to as solve et coagula—the dissolution of form followed by its reconstitution into a higher, purer state. The alchemist’s labor in the forge was thus not simply the work of a technician but the work of a spiritual seeker aiming to achieve a deeper unity with the cosmos.

For Eliade, this process of transformation was universal. It was found not only in the alchemical traditions of Europe and the Middle East but also in the myths and rituals of cultures around the world. From shamanic traditions in Siberia to the rites of ancient Egypt, the theme of transformation through fire—whether literal or symbolic—appeared time and again. Alchemy, then, was part of a larger spiritual current, one that saw the material world as a mirror of the spiritual world, and the transformation of matter as a path to the transformation of the soul.

Eliade also draws significant attention to the profound and intricate concept of time. Just as in the ancient practice of alchemy, where various metals undergo a slow and steady process of refinement and transformation, so too does the human soul evolve and grow through repeated cycles of destruction and renewal. Moreover, for Eliade, alchemy reflects a sacred understanding of time as being inherently cyclical, as each new phase of existence brings one ever closer to the divine essence. The process of transmutation is, in essence, a ritualized path toward spiritual ascent, with the furnace serving both as a literal and metaphorical gateway to deeper understanding and enlightenment.

Jābir ibn Hayyān and the Alchemical Path: A Synthesis of Science, Spirit, and Soul

Jābir ibn Hayyan approached alchemy as both a science (in the Aristotelian sense) and a spiritual practice, blending practical experimentation in ‘dispersion of knowledge’ (tabdīd al-’ilm) with mystical and philosophical insights (See Nasr, S. H., ch. 2 in An Anthology of Philosophy in Persia, Vol. 2). One of his most significant contributions, according to Jābirian scholars such as Kraus and Ruska, was the systematic approach he took to the study of substances and their transformations. He developed a theory of chemical reactions based on the concept of balance and the interactions between different elements. This was a precursor to later chemical theories and practices, making him one of the earliest figures to move alchemy beyond symbolic speculation into the realm of empirical science.

Jābir’s alchemical writings, collectively known as the Jābirian Corpus, include hundreds of treatises that explore the transformation of substances, the properties of metals, and the creation of elixirs. He introduced key concepts such as the al-iksīr (sacred water, a metaphor for the spirit of God) and the philosopher’s stone, which became central to both Islamic and Western European alchemy. One of Jābir’s most important theoretical contributions was his development and expansion of the sulfur-mercury theory of metals. According to this theory, speculated much earlier by Zosimos of Panopolis, all metals are composed of two primary elements: sulfur, which represents combustibility or the masculine principle, and mercury, representing fluidity or the feminine. The varying proportions of these two elements, Jābir claimed, determined whether a metal was “base” (such as lead, copper, tin) or “noble” (such as silver, gold). This theory laid the groundwork for later alchemical and chemical theories of matter (concerning the balances of the bodies).

The sulfur-mercury theory, while seemingly inaccurate from the perspective of modern chemistry in terms of elemental and atomic physics, holds profound symbolic meaning in the context of Jābir’s alchemical philosophy. For Jābir, a devoted Muslim and likely a Sufi and perhaps a Shi’a follower (having studied under the sixth Imam, Ja'far al-Sādiq a.s.), alchemy was inseparably linked to his spiritual and mystical beliefs. He viewed the transformation of metals as a mirror to the spiritual transformation of the soul. Just as lead could be transmuted into gold through purification, the human soul could also be refined and elevated to attain divine perfection. This idea resonated deeply with Sufi practices, which emphasize inner transformation and the attainment of divine knowledge through a metaphysical and spiritual 'opus.'

The sulfur-mercury theory, when seen through the lens of Eliade’s notion of metals being alive, suggests that these elements possess spirit and soul. This brings us to a critical inquiry: What distinguishes the soul from the spirit?

Spirit and Soul

In alchemical philosophy, the distinction between soul and spirit is profound and mirrors broader metaphysical and esoteric traditions. While the terms can sometimes overlap depending on the context, alchemists typically approached them as distinct but interconnected aspects of the cosmos, each serving different roles in the transformation processes.

The spirit often corresponds to the more volatile, dynamic, and active aspect of the substance. It is associated with movement, energy, and breath—akin to the principle of life that animates matter. Alchemically, the spirit is often linked to the mercurial principle, given mercury’s symbolic fluidity and transformational power. It is the mediator between the body and soul. It is what allows the transmutation process to occur, enabling the passage from lower to higher states. In alchemical processes, spirit represents the unseen force that brings life, motion, and potential for transformation, and in the human, it aligns with consciousness or the vital life force (rūh in Arabic). Spirit in alchemy is often associated with air or fire, both of which are elemental forces of transformation. Al-kohol or ether was sometimes called "spirit" due to its volatility and capacity to lift matter into a more refined state.

The soul, on the other hand, represents the inner essence and the subtle vehicle of consciousness that connects the material realm to the divine. It is closer to the fixed and stable principle compared to the volatility of the spirit. The soul is spirit materialized. The soul is matter spiritualized. Alchemically, the soul is associated with the sulfur principle, representing warmth, desire, and the essence that gives substance to existence. The soul is seen as the seat of consciousness and the inner drive for transmutation—it carries the memory and purpose of the individual or substance. Alchemy is often referred to as the purification of the soul because it is through the soul that one connects to the divine. The soul's journey involves a purification process to bring it closer to its prima materia or original essence.

Imagistically, the soul can be represented by the element of water or sometimes fire, as it is associated with the ability to dissolve impurities and refine. Water cleanses, but it also nurtures growth, symbolic of the soul's role in personal and spiritual development.

So, the spirit is often seen as the bridge between the soul and the body, though philosophically the soul more often takes the middle position. The soul holds the memory and essence of a person or substance’s divine origin, while the spirit activates and propels the transformation. Without the spirit, the soul remains inert, and without the soul, the spirit lacks purpose and direction. This distinction between soul and spirit is deeply influenced by Neoplatonic thought and other esoteric traditions, where the soul is often seen as the higher, individualized aspect of being that seeks reunion with the divine (the One), while the spirit operates as the active, energizing force that bridges the divine and material worlds. In Sufi thought, similar distinctions exist between rūh (spirit) and nafs (soul), where the spirit is the breath of divine life and the soul requires purification and refinement.

The ultimate goal of alchemical transformation—whether applied to matter or the self—is to purify and elevate the soul through the guiding and transformative forces of the spirit, leading to the union of opposites (like sol and luna) and achieving the Philosopher’s Stone—the perfected state.

In the opus of alchemy, the spirit plays an initial role in dissolving the crude materials (calcinatio and solutio), while the soul is subjected to processes of purificatio and coagulatio, where its true essence is revealed and refined (through processes like sublimatio and then coagulatio). The final stage is the coniunctio of spirit and soul, resulting in the perfected state (often symbolized by the Hermetic androgyny).

The Alchemical Path

For Jābir, the alchemical work or process rather represented a profound path (tarīqa) toward achieving hikma, or divine wisdom. It encompasses a holistic understanding of existence. This sacred journey promised a deeper and more nuanced comprehension of the microcosmic understanding, by engaging the creative imagination, a vital function of the All-Knowing ordering principle or creator that resides within each individual. In his insightful view, mercury, with its elusive and mutable qualities, symbolized this divine intelligence or wisdom. For sufis like Jābir, this intelligence could be understood (through the act of imitatio dei) as the soul, embodying that which is inherently able to receive forms and manifestations. This mystical wisdom ultimately became the defining characteristic of Islamic alchemy, which, in contrast to its later European counterpart, decisively maintained the inseparability of the material and the psychological realms. Within the Islamic worldview, the exploration and study of the material world remain consistent still—whether viewed through the lenses of modern chemistry, medicine, or ancient practices of alchemy—as a legitimate pathway to perceive the divine order of creation. This brief exploration serves as a reflection of the principle of tawhid (the oneness of God), which emphasizes the unity and interconnectedness of all things.

While the scientific contributions of Jābir ibn Hayyān and other Muslim alchemists are undeniably significant, here, I want to reemphasize the spiritual dimension of Jābir’s work that resonates most deeply within the alchemical tradition. The inner opus, known as the Great Work was not only an intellectual or theoretical exercise but a deeply personal and experiential journey. Jābir’s furnace corresponds to the inner fire, for purification, burning away the gross of worldly attachments and egoistic desires and attitudes, leaving behind the pure essences. This process mirrors the stages of nigredo (blackening), albedo (whitening), and rubedo (reddening) in alchemical symbolism, which represent the stages of spiritual death , purification, and rebirth.

We know that alchemy has often been misunderstood as merely a primitive attempt to turn base metals into gold or achieve material riches. Yet, as both modern scholars and ancient practitioners have shown, the true significance of alchemy transcends the physical. It is a, mythical, spiritual, and philosophical tradition that seeks nothing less than the transformation of the human psyche. So, by briefly exploring these two critical figures who reveal the deeper layers of alchemy for us, namely, Mircea Eliade and Jābir ibn Hayyan, we uncovered the process of transmutation.

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While Eliade’s contributions are perhaps primarily theoretical in the sense that his work is historical and anthropological in nature, Jābir ibn Hayyan offers a comprehensive framework for understanding alchemy from both practical and philosophical perspectives. Living during the 8th century amidst the flourishing cultural and intellectual environment of the Abbasid Caliphate, Jābir emerged as a remarkable polymath whose extensive contributions to the fields of alchemy, chemistry, and philosophy significantly shaped the intellectual landscape of the era. His alchemical philosophy was deeply influenced by metaphysics, particularly the Neoplatonic idea that the material world serves as a reflection of higher, subtle realities. For Jābir, the intricate process of transmuting metals was not merely a technical endeavor but rather an imitation of the divine act of creation that brought the universe into being. He regarded alchemy as a sacred or divine science, one that possessed the potential to unlock the profound mysteries of existence by illuminating the inherent unity that exists between the material and the spiritual realms.

Furthermore, central to Jābir’s extensive body of work, in addition to his renowned sulfur-mercury theory, was the revolutionary idea that everything in the material world, including various metals, is fundamentally composed of a delicate balance of four primary qualities: hot, cold, dry, and moist. These remarkable qualities (Aristotelian principles) could be skillfully manipulated through intricate alchemical processes to cause the transformative effect of one substance into another cause. By thoughtfully altering the precise balance of these qualities found in a base metal, as noted above, the alchemist could achieve the elusive transmutation of that metal into gold. But again, this manipulation of the elemental forces was not merely a physical exercise but rather a profoundly metaphysical endeavor, reflecting the alchemist’s deep and abiding understanding of the intricate microcosmic order that governs the universe.

For Eliade, the alchemist’s forge is a symbol of the sacred, a place where the raw elements of the earth are purified and made divine. For Jābir, the laboratory is a microcosm of the universe, where the alchemist can manipulate the hidden forces of creation and uncover the mysteries of existence. Both thinkers highlight the essential unity between the material and spiritual dimensions of alchemy, and both see the alchemist’s work as a path to self-knowledge. As we move forward in our exploration of alchemical work, it is important to remember that alchemy is not just a historical curiosity. It remains a powerful symbol of the human capacity for growth, change, and spiritual ascent. By understanding the philosophies of figures like Mircea Eliade and Jābir ibn Hayyan, we can begin to see alchemy not as a relic of the past but as a living tradition that continues to inspire those who seek to transform themselves and the world around them. To me, the philosophies of Mircea Eliade and Jābir ibn Hayyan reveal that-Alchemy is not just a practice but a universal spiritual discipline, one that remarkably transcends cultural and historical boundaries across the ages. Whether viewed through Eliade’s rich symbolic lens, which emphasizes archetypal patterns, or Jābir’s practical and metaphysical framework, which focuses on experimentation and transformation, alchemy emerges as a transformative process that operates simultaneously on both the material and psychological planes of existence. It reflects the deep human desire to transcend the inherent limitations of the physical world, ultimately striving to achieve a higher state of consciousness and understanding life and death.

A Deeper Dive: Alchemical Temporality and the Eternal Return 

Albeit manifested in distinct yet complementary ways, the concept of sacred time holds significant importance in the realms of religious and metaphysical thinking for both Eliade and Jābir. While Eliade, through his extensive and insightful studies of comparative religion, articulated the cyclical and regenerative aspects of sacred time as experienced in various religious traditions, Jābir’s profound alchemical writings reflect a temporal structure that is deeply rooted in cosmological cycles and metaphysical transformation. By thoughtfully examining the intersection of sacred temporality in their influential works, we can identify how each thinker approached the notion of time not merely as a simple linear sequence, but as a richly transformative process intricately tied to the soul's journey toward a greater divine unity and deeper understanding of existence of the self.

Eliade’s understanding of sacred time is deeply rooted in his broader theory of the eternal return, a profound concept that he elaborated upon in influential works such as The Myth of the Eternal Return (1954) and The Sacred and the Profane (1959). Eliade argued that, for archaic societies, sacred time is distinctly different from profane or linear historical time due to its inherently cyclical nature. It is a unique time of myth, wherein primordial events are reactualized through various religious rituals, thereby creating a return to the “time of origins,” a pivotal moment when divine actions shaped the cosmos and established the foundation of existence. Sacred time is experienced during transformative festivals, sacred rites, and intricate alchemical processes, serving as a suspension of ordinary chronological flow. This unique experience allows the individual to actively participate in the divine acts that echo throughout history. Eliade (1959) implies that to truly live as a human being means to exist in harmony with the sacred rhythms of the universe's religiousness. This existence requires stepping outside of the relentless passage of time and into a timeless space, where the sacred continuously renews and revitalizes the world around us. Through the repetition of archetypal acts—whether expressed through ritual practices or symbolic transmutations—the religious individual effectively escapes the grasp of profane time and participates in sacred time. Eliade perceives this as a return to cosmogony, the very moment of world creation, reinforcing the idea that the pattern of cyclical renewal can be illustrated in alchemical processes. In these transformative practices, changes are not merely chemical alterations but profound metaphysical shifts that reflect the regenerative dynamics present within the cosmos. Thus, alchemy functions not just as a practice but as a sacred endeavor aimed at returning the individual to a primordial state of unity, wholeness, and divine knowledge.

Jābir’s alchemical texts reveal a deep awareness of sacred cosmological cycles, similarly reflecting a worldview that resonates with Eliade’s conception of sacred time. Jābir's alchemical theories, such as the mercury-sulfur theory, the theory of balances, and also numerology, underscore the process of returning to a primordial state of cosmic equilibrium. Hence, for Jābir, time is intimately linked to the cyclical movements of nature [which is the function of the soul as Eliade (1959) puts it], reflecting the divine rhythms of creation and dissolution. The alchemical process of transmutation—transforming base metals into gold—symbolizes the cyclical transformation of the soul. The journey of the world soul, akin to the alchemical work, involves descending into multiplicity (profane time) and returning to unity (sacred time). In Jābir’s writings, the temporal aspect of alchemy corresponds to cycles of purification and ascent, much like Eliade’s idea of returning to cosmogony through sacred ritual. The connection to sacred time in Jābir’s work is most evident in his treatises that align alchemical operations with planetary cycles, astrological influences, and the movements of the heavens. Again, for Jābir, the alchemical process is not bound by ordinary time but cyclical time, where the soul undergoes its own purification and transmutation, paralleling the transmutation of metals. His work thus reflects an esoteric understanding of time that mirrors the cosmogonic cycles of the universe.

The comparison between Eliade and Jābir highlights the universal theme of sacred time as a vehicle for spiritual transformation. Both thinkers propose that the ritual or alchemical act is a means of escaping the limitations of profane time and entering into a timeless dimension, where the individual reconnects with divine principles. Eliade emphasizes this through religious festivals and rituals that repeat the archetypal actions of gods during cosmogony, whereas Jābir applies this to the alchemical process, where the transformation of matter mirrors the cyclical movements of the cosmos.

Moreover, Eliade’s concept of the “Great Time” finds a parallel in Jābir’s notion of the soul’s alchemical ascent and descent through cosmic cycles. In both cases, the individual is not merely a passive observer of time but an active participant in the divine work of transformation, whether through ritual or alchemical practice. This intersection emphasizes the initiatory nature of sacred time: both thinkers suggest that by aligning oneself with the sacred rhythms of the universe, one can achieve a deeper knowledge of the self making and the creative process of the cosmos—a state of ma’rifa or gnosis.

The philosophical convergence between Eliade and Jābir on the concept of sacred time reveals to us how different traditions articulate a common understanding of temporality as cyclical, regenerative, and spiritually significant. For Eliade, sacred time provides a means of returning to cosmogonic origins through ritual (for time here is “reversible in the sense that, properly speaking, it is a primordial mythical time made present”), while for Jābir, the alchemical process mirrors the cyclical rhythms of creation and transformation found in the cosmos. In both frameworks, time is not merely linear or profane but serves as a mystical path toward spiritual knowledge and being. Through a deeper examination of sacred time, we uncover a shared metaphysical vision that transcends religious orthodoxy and cultural boundaries, offering insights into the universal dynamics of regeneration and understanding.

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