Introduction
First published in 1960, The Morning of the Magicians (Le Matin des magiciens) by Louis Pauwels and Jacques Bergier is an unconventional work that blends science fiction, esoteric traditions, fringe science, and philosophy. Though often categorized as “occult” or “speculative,” the book became a cult classic in post-war Europe for its daring exploration of ideas at the margins of mainstream thought.
In its introduction, Pauwels and Bergier reflect on the profound transformation of modern philosophy and science. Citing French philosopher Maurice Merleau-Ponty, they touch on a theme that still resonates today: the fading illusion that the world is ultimately understandable. Instead, we are left with the sense that the world might be, at its core, radically contingent—without final explanation.
In the context of the Jubilee in Rome, this philosophical insight takes on renewed meaning.
— Merleau-Ponty, quoted in The Morning of the Magicians
“Modern atheism no longer seeks, as it did in 1900, to explain the world ‘without God’; instead, it claims that the world is inexplicable, and the rationalism of 1900 appears to it as nothing more than secularized theology.”
In the heart of Rome—where every stone echoes age-old questions about God, destiny, and the human condition—modern thought no longer focuses on denying God’s existence. Rather, it questions whether the world can be explained at all. This is one of the great philosophical shifts of our time: from the ambition to understand everything, to the humble recognition of mystery.
At first glance, such a view may seem out of step with the spirit of the Jubilee—a celebration that draws millions of pilgrims in search of reconciliation and renewed faith. Yet it is precisely this acknowledgment of mystery, of what some call the “radical contingency” of the world, that opens a new space for the sacred. Interestingly, even contemporary theology increasingly shares this awareness with secular thought: not everything can be grasped by reason.
Rome, long seen as a city of dogma and certainties, now finds itself facing a philosophical moment that turns post-Cartesian rationalism on its head. And perhaps this very shift brings us closer to the heart of the Jubilee. Not as an event that provides all the answers, but as an invitation to dwell in the question, in the silence, in presence.
In a world that can no longer pretend to fully understand itself, Rome remains a place where the inexplicable can still be encountered—and where the sacred is not a conclusion, but a threshold.
Conclusion
The Jubilee invites us not only to reflect on faith, but to rediscover the sacred space of uncertainty. In a time where information is abundant but meaning often elusive, perhaps mystery is not something to be solved—but something to be welcomed. In this sense, Rome becomes more than a destination. It becomes a threshold between what we know and what we long to understand.

Good article