The scene changes: It appears that the audience, in this case
me, joins in during the last act. One must kneel down as the
Good Friday service begins: Parsifal enters-slowly; his head covered with a black helmet. The lionshn of Hercules adorns his
shoulders and he holds the club in his hand; he is also wearing
modern black trousers in honor of the church holiday. I bristle
and stretch out my hand avertingly, but the play goes on. Parsifal
tal<:es off his helmet. Yet there is no Gurnemanz to atone for and
consecrate him. Kundry stands in the distance, covering her head
and laughing. The audience is enraptured and recognizes itself
in Parsifal. He is I. I take off my armor layered with history and
my chimerical decoration and go to the spring wearing a white
penitent’s shirt, where I wash my feet and hands without the
help of a stranger. Then I also tal<:e off my penitent's shirt and
put on my civilian clothes. I walk out of the scene and approach
myself-I who am still kneeling down in prayer as the audience.
I rise and become one with myself22I
The Red Book, Jung
l noelle mclaughlin 