Since the Renaissance, Western civilization has pursued the cult of a rational and conscious ego that believes that it can do, know, and organize everything. Never mind that, for example, a Bismarck, the great German chancellor who tried to follow the slogan "Where there is a will, there is a way" was constantly overcome by fits of crying. Once man, the splendid biped, was placed squarely on the center stage, he could conceive of no other function in this world beyond what his ego defined for him. As a consequence, the larger macrocosmic setting that was always vital for the Greeks receded to the periphery and concurrently all nonrational values, including religion, lost their numinous character. The case of religion is rather instructive: its demotion to a system of collective ethical behavior, interspersed with warm inner feelings, perhaps for the first time made us suspicious that it is possible to become ill from too much morality. This process of narrowing now seems to have run its course. For one thing, gods and demons that modern science had expelled from nature have found a new, though less spacious, abode in the human psyche. Above all it is the reality of evil that has become the source of deep and uncanny fascination for modern man. "That," according to Jung, "is the psychological situation in the world today. Some call themselves Christian and imagine that they can trample so called evil underfoot by merely willing to; others have succumbed to it and no longer see the good. Evil today has become the visible Great Power."1 We must add, however, that fascination with evil and the satanic in general is not necessarily an aberration of a sick mind. It may be the obverse (and neglected) side of the "thing" called religion, trying to attract our attention. Jung suggests that in order to find a way out of this quagmire, we learn not to succumb to anything at all. In particular, we must relinquish the illusion of absolute certainty as to the nature of good and evil.