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Earthly and Cosmic Man
GA 133

2 May 1912, Berlin

5. The Idea of Reincarnation and its Introduction into Western Culture. The Heralding of Christianity.

When we think of all the achievements of the spiritual life, all the insight into the spiritual world and conceptions of the universe which have come to birth during the course of human existence, we have, on the one side, a picture of great and significant progress in the evolution of mankind on the Earth; and when this progress is investigated by Spiritual Science, it becomes clear that the human being—the single individual—participates in this general progress in that he passes through the successive epochs and time-periods in reincarnations; in this way he is able not only to preserve everything that his soul has assimilated in ancient and more recent times, but also to play a real part in the whole evolutionary process. Thus when a man has lived as a being of body and soul in one epoch of culture, he does not vanish from the field of evolution, but remains, in order again to take part in what Earth-existence has later become. In a general sense, progress of this kind is certainly to be perceived. But many of our studies will remind us that this progress is not so straightforward a matter that it could be said to begin with the simple and the primitive, rising from thence into the heights; on the contrary, it will be found that progress—indeed the whole process of evolution—is full of complication.

The First Post-Atlantean epoch of culture after the great Atlantean catastrophe was that of ancient India. Its sublimity and power of vision into the spiritual worlds have never since been equalled, nor will its heights be reattained until the Seventh Post-Atlantean epoch—after the Fifth and Sixth have run their course. Thus in certain forms of spiritual life there is a decline, followed again, in due course, by an ascent. Graeco-Latin culture, for instance, was a most noble expression of the inner union existing between the Greeks and their Art, and of the wise ordering of civic life in Greece and Rome, whereby a certain harmony in the conditions of life on the physical plane was created. But an utterance of a great Greek is also indicative of the character of this epoch: “Better it is to be a beggar in the Upper World than a king in the realm of the Shades.” This indicates that in an epoch of golden prime on the physical plane, men had only very limited consciousness of the significance of the spiritual world lying behind and beyond the physical plane. Since that time the intensity of the union between the human being and life on the physical plane has waned, together with the noblest fruits of that union; on the other hand, however, mankind begins, gradually and perceptibly to ascend once again to the spiritual worlds. This will serve as an illustration of the complicated course taken by human evolution. When emphasis is laid on the blessings and high lights of one particular epoch, this most certainly does not imply that lesser value is to be attached to other epochs which lack certain characteristics. Although we speak again and again of all that Christianity has brought into the world, we know that its impulse is only beginning and that the spiritual heights attained in the East before the coming of Christianity, have not again been reached. All this must be remembered, because there must be no thought or suggestion that in bringing forward the merits of one epoch, we do less than justice to the greatness and significance of others. In this sense I ask you to pay attention to a difference that is neither a merit on the one side nor a failing on the other: I want simply to describe a certain difference between pre-Christian, Oriental culture and Christianity (not Pagan or even ancient Hebrew culture)—a difference which becomes clear when insight into Christianity has been deepened by Spiritual Science.

In typically Oriental conceptions of the world there is a firmly established principle to which repeated allusions are made but to which, up to now, Christianity has paid little heed. Oriental culture has knowledge of the great cosmic Laws revealed today by Spiritual Science, namely, those of the return of the human being in different Earth-lives, and of Karma. Whereas Christianity through the centuries has had eyes only for the life of a man between birth and death, and its continuance in a simple heavenly life, the Oriental world possesses definite knowledge of the return of man in repeated lives on Earth; and the knowledge of this great manifestation of law in the evolution of humanity constitutes much of the profound significance in Oriental teachings. As a result of this, Oriental culture contains teachings regarding the leaders and great heroes of human evolution which differ fundamentally from anything taught in the West. In the Oriental world-conception we find references to Beings of whom it is said from the outset that they return again and again and that the importance of their influence can be measured by their achievements in successive Earth-lives. The very name, “Gautama Buddha” is indicative, for “Buddha” is not a proper name like “Socrates” or “Raphael,” but denotes a rank. The world of thought from which Buddhism has grown speaks of many Buddhas “Buddha” is a rank. Before “Gautama Buddha” the royal son of King Suddhodana—became the “Buddha” of whom Oriental teachings speak, he was a “Bodhisattva.” In other words, the Oriental conception of the world perceives the Individuality who passes through the different incarnations, ascending from incarnation to incarnation and finally reaching the height at which the rank of “Buddha” is attained Such an Individuality is then no longer called by a proper name. In speaking of the characteristics of the Buddha, Buddhism rarely refers to “Prince Siddhartha,” but far more often to a rank, attained not only by him but to which every human being can attain. And so, in pointing to the great leaders, the East points to the Individuality who passes through repeated Earth-lives; the greatness and significance of these leaders are attributed to the merits they acquired through repeated lives on Earth.

And now compare this with characteristic features of western culture. There we are told of the greatness of a Plato, a Socrates, of a figure like Paul; even in the Old Testament, a figure like Moses stands out in strong relief, and, later on, Raphael, Michelangelo, Leonardo da Vinci among many others. The West speaks of the single personality—not the “individuality” who passes through repeated lives on Earth. Attention is directed not to the being who goes on from birth to birth, from death to death, but to the one personality who lived from a certain point of time to another. The East directs its attention more to the onward progress of the Individuality from one incarnation to another, whereas western culture has been little concerned as to who Socrates, for example, could have been in previous Earth-lives, or what becomes of him in later lives. It is the same with Paul and with all the others. This is a very fundamental difference. The matter may be summed up by saying that the whole trend of the West hitherto has been to lay emphasis upon the importance of the personality, of the single life of the human being. Only now, when we are on the threshold of a great change in the spiritual life, are we beginning—having acquired in western culture a gauge as it were for the single personality—to discern a principle of existence which Oriental culture accepts as a matter of course, namely, the development of the Individuality within the single personalities, through many lives. A perspective of the future fraught with great significance is here opened up, of which mankind will stand increasingly in need.

Christian thought has actually lost sight of something which the East has always possessed and knowledge of which has now to be reacquired. The course of evolution is such that certain outworn fragments must be discarded and new elements added; ancient heritages must be rescued again, but in a new form and through a new impulse. In olden times, clairvoyance was a natural gift in humanity. It had to fade away and be replaced by thinking based upon purely external observation and perception; this will be enriched by the clairvoyance of the future and will add something of untold significance to human life. The West had to pass through a period during which mankind was split up, as it were, into separate personalities, but now that men stand on the threshold of a deepening of thought and experience, they will themselves be aware of a longing to find the thread uniting the fragments which make their appearance in the life of the human being between birth and death. The light of understanding will thus be shed on the forces which flow onwards through the stream of spiritual development and human progress. Let us illustrate this by a particular example:—

In the lecture on “The Prophet Elijah in the Light of Spiritual Science”1See: Turning Points in Sprirtual History, by Rudolf Steiner. I spoke of what occult research reveals concerning this prophet. I do not propose to go into further details now, but will only say that in the light of occult knowledge, Elijah was one who proclaimed with power and deep intensity that the primal, original form of what humanity may call the “Divine” can be glimpsed only in the innermost centre of man's being, in the “ I ”. The great prophetic message of Elijah proclaimed that everything the outer world can teach is, at most, semblance and parable, that realisation of the essential nature of man can only arise in the “ I.” Elijah could not, in his time, proclaim the power and significance of the single, human “ I,” but he proclaimed the existence, as it were, of a Divine Ego, external to the human being. Men must recognise this Divine Ego, must realise that it rays into the human “ I ”. That this Divine Ego rises up within the human “ I ” and there unfolds its full power—such is the knowledge won by Christianity. The work and mission of Elijah are therefore a true heralding of Christianity. This can be said when the life of Elijah and his place in the history of human evolution are being described in the light of occult knowledge.

And then we may think of another life, the life of the personality known as John the Baptist. From the mouth of John, humanity was to learn what the immediate future held in store.... “Change the attitude of your souls! Do not look back to the times that are past, when men sought to find the Divine only at the starting-point of evolution; look, rather, into your own souls and into the deepest core of your being and then you will know that the Kingdoms of Heaven are near”.... This, was the substance of the message of the Baptist. In other words: the phase of development has come when, in very truth, the “ I ” can find the Divine within itself. The form in which Christianity was heralded by Elijah has changed with the flow of time. Something altogether different is represented by John the Baptist. But through Spiritual Science and a deepened understanding, we realise that one and the same Being lived in the prophet Elijah and in John the Baptist. We add to our understanding of the single life a principle of knowledge already possessed by the East, only the East did not lay such emphasis upon the power and force inhering in the single personality.

Going further, we can speak of that most remarkable personality who lived from 1483 to 1521, was born on a Good Friday and through this very fact, indicated, as it were, his living connection with the Mystery of Golgotha. I am referring, of course, to Raphael, the great painter. In the western world, as is only to be expected, it is customary to study Raphael as a figure in himself, but it will very soon become clear to deeper insight, that what the West has to say with regard to Raphael has many shortcomings. This figure of Raphael presents a remarkable spectacle to those who aspire for a more profound understanding. It is as though his genius came with him at birth. In a manner of speaking it can be said that he “let himself be born” on a Good Friday, in order to indicate his connection with the Mystery of Golgotha. It is quite obvious that from the very first, his life gave promise of all his subsequent greatness. Orphaned at an early age, he was thrown out into the world, and finally into the brilliance and splendour of Rome; there, within the span of a short life, we see him rise step by step to heights of fame. What is there to be said about this remarkable life? Think of the environment into which Raphael was born—it was in the period at the turn of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. It was a time when disputes in the world of religion were rampant and widespread, when Christianity was scattered into countless sects over the whole Earth, when mighty and also terrible conflicts were being waged in Christendom. And now we turn to Raphael's paintings. It is a strange experience! They seem to make us forget what was happening all around in the Christian world at the time and a kind of jubilation at the power with which Christianity has taken root in human evolution streams out from them. Think of a picture like “The School of Athens” as it is generally called. We see all those remarkable figures, deciphered by pedants with the aid of historical guide-books, as Socrates, Diogenes, and so forth. This, however, means nothing whatever from the point of view of Art. But if we take the New Testament and read the Acts of the Apostles attentively, we feel that in this picture we have before our very eyes the whole vivid difference between the pre-Christian views prevailing in Greece and those of Christianity; we also find this in the picture usually, though erroneously, known as the “Disputa.” “The School of Athens” really depicts the scene in the New Testament when Paul came among the Greeks, saying to them: “Until this day you have heard of many Gods; but the Divine does not express Itself in images. You have spoken great words concerning the living Gods, but there is something still greater: the Glory of the God Who died on the Cross and has risen again!“ We feel the power of the message as we stand before the picture called “The School of Athens,” and look at the remarkable figures of the philosophers listening attentively as Paul speaks. When the picture is actually before us, the pedantic interpretation given to it later on—that the central figures are Aristotle, Plato, and so forth—fades into insignificance. We feel that Raphael was trying to depict the moment when Paul came among the Greeks. If we study the New Testament closely, we shall be able to identify the figure of the man with the hand pointing forward so significantly, as a personality drawn from the New Testament account. The New Testament, therefore, provided the model for a personality depicted in this picture, namely, the personality of Paul.

And so we pass from one picture to another, forgetting all the statements that have been made about the one or the other, for a great force streams out of them; we feel that Christianity is living on in its mightiest power in the paintings of Raphael and that they portray a Christianity in which there can be no strife or splitting into sects. Recent times, however, have had little understanding of the Christianity which pours its living influence through Raphael's paintings. When we look at them even more closely, still another feeling comes to us. It is as though their creator wanted to portray the eternal youthfulness, the eternal power of victory in Christianity. And then perhaps we ask ourselves: In what form did the influence of these paintings live on?

Before very long, a despot like Bernini—who accomplished so much for Art—was giving warning against imitation of Raphael; it is even possible to say that Raphael was “forgotten.” In Germany and in the west of Europe during the eighteenth century there is a strange story to tell in regard to men's understanding of Raphael. In the whole of Voltaire's works you will find hardly a mention of Raphael. The name of someone else may also occur to you, although he held a very different view later on. Goethe's experience when he visited the Dresden Gallery for the first time, was a strange one. When you yourselves stand before the “Sistine Madonna” you will probably imagine that the picture must have filled Goethe with enchantment, and this may well be assumed in view of all the eulogies with which he later sang its praises. We have to remember however, what he had heard from the officials of the Dresden Gallery and from those who were the official custodians of the picture. He was informed by them that the Child in the arms of the Mother, the Child Whose eyes express a rare gift of seership, was painted with realistic vulgarity, that it could not be from the hand of Raphael himself but must have been painted over by someone else; and that the little heads of Angels could not possibly have been Raphael's own work. The coming of the Sistine Madonna to Dresden was not crowned with triumph! But at any rate it is to Goethe's credit that after he had learnt to appreciate Raphael, he contributed a great deal towards an understanding of the Sistine Madonna and of Raphael himself.

Now let us think of the course, taken by evolution in the nineteenth century, leaving aside what occurred in Catholic countries and turning our attention to Protestant lands in which the dogma concerning the Virgin Mary is not essential to faith. There, not only the “Sistine” Madonna but all the other Madonnas of Raphael are veritably crowned with glory! Without thinking now of the originals, the many excellent engravings and reproductions are a proof of how men have endeavoured to present Raphael's creations to the world in the most perfect possible form. Few people, after all, have the opportunity of seeing the originals themselves. Naturally, no reproduction can convey the essence of the artistic power in a picture; to suppose any such thing would be ignorant and barbaric. But something else made its way into the evolution of mankind: in regions which would have nothing to do with the dogma of the Immaculate Conception, a form of Christianity independent of all differences of doctrine found entrance. While men have fought for these differences of doctrine in theories and systems, a picture of this great Mystery—in the characters of an “occult script,” as it might be said—found entry in the reproductions of Raphael's Art, filling the Mystery with new life. Here again is a heralding of Christianity from which great and glorious fruits will ripen in the future. And understanding of these things will be quickened by the experiences which have arisen in human beings at the sight of the “Sistine” Madonna, the “Madonna del Pesce” and other Madonnas, or from “The School of Athens,” the “Disputa” and other paintings of Raphael. Without being aware of it, men have in their souls today the feeling of an inter-denominational Christianity, conveyed by this wonderful “occult script.”

Raphael both heralded and established a new impulse in Christianity although, to begin with he was not understood. Occult investigation finds that the same Individuality who once worked in Elijah and later in John the Baptist, lived again on earth in Raphael.2See: On the Meaning of Life, by Rudolf Steiner. This helps us to understand how the forces develop in the same soul from life to life, and to discern the effects of earlier causes. The Baptist was beheaded; his work came to light again in the achievements of his great successor. The new proclamation of the Baptist in the Raphael life was for long ages forgotten. It came to life again in what Spiritual Science teaches concerning the Christ-Impulse. What a light shines in our understanding when we gather up the threads leading through the single personalities, and in what vivid perspective the single personality stands there before us!

I said that the paintings of Raphael are like chants of jubilation at the might of Christianity. Raphael naturally keeps to the accepted events and facts, but out of his feelings he is able to portray them with a unique power. As our eyes wander over his paintings we realise with what majesty and sublimity he portrayed the forces of Christianity, and ask ourselves: What is it that Raphael did not paint? He painted no scene on the Mount of Olives, no Crucifixion. True, he painted a “Bearing of the Cross,” but it was a very poor picture and gives the impression of having been done to order. Neither did he paint any of the scenes leading directly to the Crucifixion. His creative genius begins to reveal itself again only when he portrays the figure of the great successor of John—the figure of Paul in “The School of Athens”; or when, passing over the other events in the life of Christ, he paints “The Transfiguration.” What Raphael has not painted helps us to understand that it was alien to him to portray those events on Earth (not events in the spiritual world) which took place after he was beheaded in his previous life. We realise why it was that Raphael painted fewer pictures of these particular events. When we look at the pictures, we feel that all those which portray events subsequent to the Beheading of John the Baptist, are not, like the others, born of earlier remembrances.

As we think of all this, another feeling, too, may arise in us. In a few more hundred years, what will have become of all the paintings which have been such great and mighty symbols in mankind? True, for some time yet the reproductions will be left to us, but not the originals—for so very long. Anyone who looks today with sorrow in his heart at Leonardo da Vinci's “Last Supper” realises what will become of the physical materials used in these pictures. It dawns upon us, too, that they can only be truly appreciated when, through Spiritual Science, we understand what it is that Raphael has painted, for example, in “The School of Athens” or the “Disputa.” What is to be seen today on the walls of the Vatican in Rome has been ruined by the many restorations. No real idea of the originals is possible, for they have been so grievously spoilt by the restorations. What, then, will have happened in another few centuries? No means of preservation devised by the mind of man will be able to prevent the materials from deteriorating. In another few centuries everything will have vanished. The subjects themselves, of course, will still be known; but the creations of Raphael's own hand will disappear. And then the thought arises: Is the process of human evolution such that things continually come into being only to sink, finally, into non-existence?

Our gaze wanders further and falls upon the youthful figure of a German poet—Novalis. To begin with, we find in his writings a most wonderful and unique resurrection of the Christ-Idea, of which the following may be said. If we steep ourselves in Spiritual Science and with the means it provides, try to understand the coming of the Christ-Impulse into the evolution of humanity, and then turn to Novalis—wherever we look, something seems to spring into life. Inspirations of the greatest grandeur concerning matters of Spiritual Science are to be found everywhere. Inspirations that are like lofty dreams of Science. From Novalis comes something that finds its way into mankind like seed—seed which will spring to life in times to come. Here again is a heralding of Christianity! In spite of all differences, it is again a beginning, just as the work of the Baptist was a beginning. We are drawn irresistibly to the remarkable figure of Novalis, feeling that a stream of living Theosophy goes out from him, inspired by the power of Christianity. We feel that here, too, is a proclamation of Christianity for the future.

Occult investigation finds that in Elijah, in John the Baptist, in Raphael, in Novalis, the same Individuality lived and worked. In Raphael there is a new resurrection of the work of John the Baptist, and it may indeed be said: Raphael himself is able to ensure that his work will not perish when his paintings are no longer to be seen on the walls, just as he was able to prevent other achievements from passing away. Just as he provided for the revival, in a new form, of what it had once been his mission to proclaim, so he will always provide, in incarnations yet to come. Thus does the Individuality bear through eternity what has once been accomplished.

It may be that concrete examples like these, given as illustrations of abstract laws and principles, will do more than the external teachings of Spiritual Science, to render the theosophical conception of human life as intelligible as those things which confront us in the outside world. Deep insight may come to us when, in the light of such concrete examples, we observe processes operating more secretly in the evolution of the human soul. As spiritual research is still a young science, men who have studied Raphael hitherto can naturally know nothing of the power and impulse he bears through the ages. But because the time has come when the idea of the reincarnation of the human being is to dawn, even though nothing concrete is known about it, undefined intuitive feelings may arise here and there. A striking example of this has come again to my mind during the last fortnight. I remembered how Herman Grimm, a most gifted writer on the History of Art and a distinguished student of Raphael, speaks of the painter. Naturally, when Herman Grimm was writing about Raphael, he knew nothing of Spiritual Science and studied only the single life of Raphael. He observed Raphael's fame through the centuries, its decline and subsequent growth, and discerned how, in his creations, Raphael lives on through time. And then there dawned upon Herman Grimm the remarkable thought which he expressed in his work on Raphael (he had wanted to write a volume, but it remained a mere fragment). He says there, expressing an entirely instinctive feeling: When we ponder on the things that will endure in the evolution of mankind, and thus catch a vista of the future, the thought arises that all these things will be lived through again! This is an eloquent indication of how the thought of “re-experience” rises instinctively, like a longing, in the souls of men who observe evolution thoughtfully and sensitively, for the very reason that without such a conception, the rest has no meaning. This is of infinite significance. And when we reflect about these things, an idea that is beautiful and true comes to us of what Spiritual Science will be able to do for the evolution of humanity, and of the enrichment which human life in all its forms will receive through knowledge of the laws on Reincarnation and Karma. But if the life of humanity is to be thus enriched, men will have to learn to observe the Spiritual with the same exactitude with which they observe the Physical; they will have to perceive how repetition in the physical world is a great law of existence, and that recurrence—as in the return of the soul into the body—is also a law governing the return of the fruits of the various lives. Such an experience, however, is always preceded by others—by human longings and hopes, and instinctive knowledge which has been unfolding during recent years. When we think of these things, it seems as though Spiritual Science has been growing and developing without consciousness on the part of human beings, but that they were already dreaming of it, instinctively divining its approach. There are some, however, who have pondered about the spiritual life, and they have indicated what they felt concerning the rhythmic recurrence of phenomena and even concerning the return of the human soul.

It is interesting, here, to speak of a case—which I could multiply a hundredfold—because it is an example of what is alive in all those who have contemplated the picture presented by human evolution and in their life of feeling have discerned the rhythmic recurrence, the rhythmic return of events. I will quote one example, which shows how this thought has taken root, causing something to spring to life in the soul. This writer could not have been a theosophist in the modern sense, for what I am going to refer to is a poem written in the year 1835.3See also: The Art of Recitation and Declamation. Lecture IX. Not yet published in English. The writer could have had no knowledge of the vista of human evolution one day to be opened up by Spiritual Science. Yet something rises up in him that is like a dream of the future of humanity—an instinctive perception of recurrent phenomena in human existence. I am speaking of the poet Anastasius Grün, who in the year 1835 published a poem (Schutt) in which he depicts five recurrences of a certain happening, rhythmic repetitions of the spiritual message working in humanity. The poem depicts how on Easter Day, Christ re-visits the Mount of Olives in the Spirit, in order to look again at the places where He had lived and suffered. The poem speaks of five returns, four of which lie in the past, and the fifth in the future. The first occurs in the period after the destruction of Jerusalem. The second, “when Christ beholds the conquest of Jerusalem by the Crusaders”; as He looks down, Christ sees what is happening in the places He had once known. The third return falls in the period when Islam was spreading its power over Jerusalem; the fourth in the period when humanity, split into countless sects, was quarrelling about the mission of Christ. All this is vividly and graphically described by Grün. Then there opens out the vista of a return of Christ on an Easter Day in the far distant future. Although the picture is dreamlike and Utopian, we cannot fail to discern—apart from the actual content of the poem—something of the blessing experienced by the soul when spiritual knowledge, especially as it has unfolded since the thirteenth century, opens up glimpses of a future when a spiritual culture will spread peace instead of wars and strife. Grün sees the blessings of peace in the culture of times to come and speaks of a future return of Christ to the Mount of Olives on an Easter Day, describing it as it appeared to his imagination. Children are playing on Golgotha; they have been digging in the ground and find a strange thing made of iron, not knowing at all what it can be; it proves, subsequently, to be a sword. And in the mood of exultation which comes upon him, Grün says that there will come a time when the very purpose of such an instrument as a sword will have been forgotten and the sword will be an object of amazement to men. Then he says that the iron will be used as a plough and describes the feeling which the rhythmic return of Christ to the Mount of Olives quickens in him. What has been forgotten and will again be revealed, is a Cross of Stone! It is raised again and Grün says that something happens to the Cross, indicating what part the Cross will play hereafter. In the following verses he describes what feelings arise in him when the children unearth a Cross and set it up for all the world to see—and he speaks, too, of the function and the power of the Cross in mankind:—

Though yet they knew, or knew it not, full-fraught
With blessing and upreared within their breast
It stands and ceaseless calls, while all around
Its Name lies blazoned upon every path.
For what they knew no longer was—a Cross!
The strife they knew not, nor th'ensanguined Sign;
They saw but victory, and the victor's crown.
'Twas but the Rainbow-Glory filled their soul.
In garden fair they set the Cross of Stone—
Relic of bygone ages, strange, and venerable,
Roses entwine and flowers of every hue
Lay their soft arms about Its Stem.
Thus stands the Cross of Golgotha, resplendent,
Glorious—Its meaning heard to find,
Its form all hidden 'neath a rosy veil!
Men see no more the Cross, for roses there.

Fünfter Vortrag

Vergleichen wir, was im Laufe der Menschheitsentwickelung an geistigem Leben, an Anschauungen über die geistige Welt und die Welt überhaupt zutage getreten ist, dann bekommen wir auf der einen Seite wirklich das Bild eines sinnvollen Fortschrittes, eines Fortschrittes der ganzen Menschheitsentwickelung auf der ganzen Erde. Und wir bekommen, wenn wir mit den Mitteln geistiger Forschung und geisteswissenschaftlicher Denkweise diesen Fortschritt verfolgen, den Eindruck, daß der Mensch überhaupt als eine einzelne Individualität teilnimmt an dem Gesamtfortschritt der Menschheit, indem er mit seiner Seele in den aufeinanderfolgenden Wiederverkörperungen seines Daseins die aufeinanderfolgenden Zeiträume und Epochen durchmacht und sozusagen dadurch Gelegenheit hat, auf der einen Seite alles herüberzutragen, was er sich in seiner Seele angeeignet hat in alten und in neueren Zeiten, aber auch andererseits Gelegenheit hat, an allem sozusagen teilzunehmen, wenn er mit seiner Seele in der einen Kulturepoche gelebt hat, für die Gesamtentwickelung der Erde eben nicht zu verschwinden, sondern zu bleiben, um wieder teilzunehmen an dem, wozu es die Erde auch in späterer Zeit gebracht hat. Einen solchen Gesamtfortschritt nehmen wir wahr. Aber wir brauchen uns nur an einiges zu erinnern, was öfter betont worden ist in unsern geisteswissenschaftlichen Betrachtungen, und wir werden sehen, daß der Fortschritt nicht ein so einfach gradliniger ist, daß man sagen könnte, es fängt bei einfachen, primitiven Sachen an und steigt immer fort und fort in die Höhe, sondern daß der Fortschritt und die ganze Entwickelung überhaupt etwas Kompliziertes sind.

Wir haben, wenn wir auf die nachatlantische Zeit Rücksicht nehmen, uns einen Einblick verschafft, wie nach der großen atlantischen Katastrophe zuerst eine Kulturepoche da war, die wir als die altindische bezeichnen, von einer solchen Höhe, von einem solchen Hineinblick in die geistige Welt, wie es seit jener Zeit nicht wieder erreicht worden ist, und wie es erst wieder erreicht werden wird, wenn der fünfte und sechste nachatlantische Kulturzeitraum vergangen sein werden und der siebente wieder da sein wird. So finden wir in bezug auf gewisse Arten der menschheitlichen Geistesentwickelung ein zeitenweises Heruntersteigen, dem dann wieder ein Hinaufsteigen folgt. Wir finden zum Beispiel die griechisch-lateinische Kultur, von der wir sagen, daß sie in einer gewissen Weise ein Höchstes darstellt in bezug auf Vermählung des griechischen Volkes mit der Kunst und in bezug auf Einrichtungen in dem griechischen und römischen Staatsleben, so daß ein gewisses harmonisches Zusammenleben des Menschen mit dem physischen Plan erreicht war. Wir sehen aber auch, daß für diese Epoche charakteristisch ist ein Ausspruch des großen Griechen: Lieber ein Bettler sein in der Oberwelt als ein König im Reiche der Schatten! — Das heißt, es ist für diese Epoche höchsten Menschheitsglanzes auf dem physischen Plan nur ein geringes Bewußtsein vorhanden für die Bedeutung der spirituellen Welt, die jenseits des physischen Planes ist. Und seit jener Zeit sehen wir das Abnehmen des unmittelbaren Verwachsenseins des Menschen mit dem physischen Plan, sehen ein Abnehmen dessen, was in dieser Richtung Großes hervorgebracht ist, sehen aber dafür wieder auch ein allmähliches Hineinwachsen der Menschheit in die spirituellen Welten. Das sei gesagt für die Charakteristik, daß der Gang der Menschheitsentwickelung ein komplizierter ist und daß, wenn man die Vorteile und Lichtseiten der einen Epoche hervorhebt, man damit durchaus nicht zu meinen braucht, daß andere Epochen, die diese Ordnungen nicht haben, etwa im absoluten Sinne geringer anzuschlagen wären. Wenn wir oft von dem sprechen, was das Christentum in die Welt gebracht hat, so wissen wir, daß wir in dieser Beziehung erst in einem Anfange stehen und daß jene spirituellen Höhen, die im Oriente erreicht sind vor der Zeit des Christentums, noch nicht wieder errungen sind. Das alles müssen wir berücksichtigen, damit kein Schein aufkomme, daß wir, wenn wir die Vorzüge des einen Zeitalters hervorheben, etwa ungerecht wären gegen die Größe und die Bedeutung anderer Epochen. In diesem Sinne bitte ich Sie, auch einen Unterschied aufzufassen, der nicht einen Vorteil auf der einen Seite und einen Nachteil auf der andern Seite charakterisieren will. Nur eben einen Unterschied will ich bezeichnen, wenn ich charakterisieren will den Unterschied zwischen gewissen Entwickelungen der nichtchristlichen, auch nicht althebräischen, sondern vorchristlichen orientalischen Kulturentwickelung und dem Christentum selber, dem Christentum namentlich, wie wir es wieder aufgehen sehen durch die geisteswissenschaftliche Vertiefung dieses Christentums.

Wenn wir in die orientalische Weltanschauung hineinblicken, so sehen wir, daß sie eines hatte, auf dem sie fest stand, auf das sie immer wieder und wieder hinwies, worauf das Christentum in seiner bisherigen Entwickelung weniger Rücksicht nahm. Es hatte die orientalische Weltanschauung diejenige Idee, jenes große Weltgesetz, das wir uns heute wieder durch die Geisteswissenschaft erobern: die Anschauung von der Wiederkunft des Menschen in verschiedenen Erdenleben und von dem Gesetz des Karma. Während das Christentum durch Jahrhunderte hindurch nur gerechnet hat mit dem Leben des Menschen zwischen Geburt und Tod und einem - sich daranschlieBend, fortlaufend — auch einfachen Himmelsleben, haben wir in der orientalischen Welt bereits die klare Erkenntnis von der Wiederkehr des Menschen in den wiederholten Erdenleben. Und das Bedeutende, das die orientalischen Weltanschauungen haben, wird immer hervorgeholt aus dieser großen Gesetzmäßigkeit der Menschheitsentwickelung. Dadurch bildete sich in der orientalischen Lehre etwas heraus über die Führer, die großen Lehrer und die Helden der Menschheitsentwickelung, das sich grundsätzlich unterscheidet von allem, was sich innerhalb der abendländischen Entwickelung herausgebildet hat über die großen Führer und Helden. Wir finden innerhalb der orientalischen Weltanschauungen Hinweise auf Wesenheiten, von denen uns von vornherein gesagt wird, daß sie immer wiederkommen und daß das Bedeutungsvolle ihres Wirkens gerade durch das Bedeutungsvolle in ihren aufeinanderfolgenden Erdenleben sich erkennen läßt.

Wir sehen vor uns hingestellt den Gautama Buddha und sehen schon in der Namengebung desselben, worauf es ankommt. Denn Buddha ist kein Eigenname, wie Sokrates, Raffael oder andere Eigennamen sind, sondern es ist ein Rangname. Und auf dem Boden der Weltanschauung, auf dem die Buddhalehre erwachsen ist, spricht man von vielen Buddhas. Buddha ist eine Würde. Wir haben es oft hervorgehoben, daß der Gautama Buddha, bevor er als der Königssohn des Suddhodana eben der Buddha geworden ist, von dem die orientalische Weltanschauung heute spricht, ein Bodhisattva war. Das heißt, es blickt die orientalische Weltanschauung auf die durch die einzelnen Inkarnationen gehende Individualität, sieht hin, wie die Individualität aufsteigt von Inkarnation zu Inkarnation und dann zu jener Höhe kommt, die mit der Buddhawürde erreicht ist. Und dann wird die Individualität mit alledem, was sie Einschneidendes geleistet hat, nicht bezeichnet mit einem Eigennamen. Nur selten wird im Buddhismus, wenn von der Eigenart des Buddha gesprochen werden soll, von dem Prinzen Siddharta gesprochen, sondern meistens von einer Würde, von einer solchen Würde aber, zu der nicht er allein aufgestiegen ist, sondern zu der jeder aufsteigen kann. So weist die orientalische Weltanschauung, wenn sie auf die großen Führer deutet, auf dasjenige hin, was durch die wiederholten Erdenleben durchgeht, und sie führt gerade die Größe und die Bedeutung ihrer Führer auf das zurück, was sie sich erwarben durch die wiederholten Erdenleben.

Vergleichen wir diese Erscheinung mit dem, was sich die abendländische Kulturentwickelung vorgesetzt hat. Da hören wir erzählen von der Größe des Plato, von der Größe des Sokrates. Da tritt uns eine Gestalt wie die des Paulus entgegen. Ja, wir können schon beginnen im Alten Testament, wo uns eine Gestalt wie Moses entgegentritt. Weiter treffen wir Gestalten wie Raffael, Michelangelo, Leonardo da Vinci und andere. Man spricht im Abendlande von der einzelnen Persönlichkeit, und hat nicht im Auge die Individualität, die sich durch die wiederholten Erdenleben zieht. Man wendet den Blick nicht auf das, was von Geburt zu Tod, von Tod zu Geburt geht, sondern man spricht von dem, was als einzelne menschliche Persönlichkeit von diesem Jahr bis zu jenem Jahr dagestanden und gelebt hat. So sehen wir, daß die orientalische Weltanschauung mehr sieht auf die fortlaufende Individualität, die von Verkörperung zu Verkörperung geht, daß aber die abendländische Kultur sich wenig darum gekümmert hat, was zum Beispiel Sokrates war in früheren Erdenleben, bevor er Sokrates wurde, oder was aus ihm werden wird in späteren Leben. Ebenso machen wir es mit Paulus oder anderen. Das ist ein bedeutsamer Unterschied. Es ist eben einfach die Sache so zu charakterisieren, daß man sagt: Das ganze Wesen des Abendlandes hat bisher darin bestanden, auf die Bedeutung der Persönlichkeit, auf die Bedeutung des einzelnen Lebens des Menschen ganz besonders hinzuweisen. Jetzt erst, wo wir im geistigen Leben vor einem großen Umschwung stehen, beginnen wir damit, nachdem wir uns sozusagen innerhalb der abendländischen Kultur einen Maßstab angeeignet haben für die Beurteilung der einzelnen Persönlichkeit, uns wieder aufzuschwingen zu dem, was in der orientalischen Weltanschauung der Betrachtung des Menschenwesens als selbstverständlich zugrunde liegt, uns wieder aufzuschwingen zu dem, was in der einzelnen Persönlichkeit als Individualität lebt und eben von Leben zu Leben gegangen ist. Da erscheint uns denn etwas Eigentümliches als eine bedeutsame Perspektive für die Zukunft. Und diese Perspektive für die Zukunft wird die Menschheit immer mehr und mehr brauchen.

So sehen wir, daß wir in der Tat in der christlichen Weltanschauung etwas verloren hatten, was der Orient schon hatte, und was wir uns erst jetzt wieder beginnen zu erobern. Der Gang der Menschheitsentwickelung ist überhaupt so, daß gewisse alte Stücke abgeworfen werden müssen, daß neue hinzukommen und daß das Alte durch das Neue wieder erobert wird. So hatte die ganze Menschheit einst in Urzeiten ein Urhellsehen. Das mußte abgeworfen werden. Es trat dann an seine Stelle die rein äußere Wahrnehmungsanschauung. Und es wird später wieder zu der Wahrnehmungsanschauung das hinzukommen, was zukünftiges Hellsehen ist. So im Großen und so im Einzelnen, aber ein ungeheuer Bedeutungsvolles wird der Menschheit dadurch erwachsen. Es mußte schon einmal so sein, daß für das Abendland die Betrachtung der Menschheit in einzelne Persönlichkeiten auseinandergefallen ist. Aber nachdem die Menschheit heute davor steht, sich notwendigerweise zu vertiefen, wird sie schon von selbst die Sehnsucht finden, die einzelnen Stücke, die hervortreten im Leben des Menschen zwischen Geburt und Tod, miteinander zu verbinden. Und dann wird ein ungeheures Verständnis davon ausstrahlen für den Fortschritt, für die Kräfte, die sich hindurchentwickeln durch den Strom des einzelnen und auch des Menschheitsfortschrittes. Wir können das an einem einzelnen Falle prüfen.

Sie erinnern sich an den Vortrag «Der Prophet Elias im Lichte der Geisteswissenschaft» vom 14.Dezember 1911 in Berlin. Sie erinnern sich, daß ich dazumal darauf hingewiesen habe, wie dutch eine okkulte Forschung dieses Prophetenbild in einer ganz merkwürdigen Weise vor uns erscheint. Ich will auf die Einzelheiten nicht weiter jetzt eingehen, will nur sagen, wie an diesem Prophetenbilde durch die okkulte Forschung herausgekommen ist, daß Elias es war, der mit einer besonderen Intensität und Kraft darauf hingewiesen hat, daß das, was die Menschheit ein Göttliches nennen kann, eigentlich nur zu erblicken ist in seiner ureigenen Gestalt - und zwar im tiefsten Zentrum des Menschen -, im eigentlichen Ich des Menschen. So daß wir, zusarnmenfassend, das große Prophetenwort des Elias so charakterisieren können: Von ihm ist die Erkenntnis ausgegangen, daß alles, was uns von der Außenwelt gelehrt werden kann, nur ein Gleichnis ist, und daß die Erkenntnis über die eigentliche Natur des Menschen nur aufgehen kann im eigenen Ich. — Nur ist Elias nicht dazu gekommen, die Kraft und die Bedeutung des einzelnen Ich zu erkennen, sondern er stellte gleichsam ein außer dem Menschen stehendes göttliches Ich auf. Aber erkennen sollte man dieses göttliche Ich, erkennen sollte man, daß es hereinstrahlt in das menschliche Ich. Daß es im menschlichen Ich aufersteht und seine volle Kraft entfaltet, das ist die Eroberung dann des Christentums. So erscheint die Wirksamkeit des Elias als etwas wie eine Heroldschaft für das Christentum. So etwa kann man sprechen, wenn man mit den okkulten Mitteln forscht und das einzelne Leben des Elias, wie es dasteht in der Geschichte der Menschheitsentwickelung, charakterisiert.

Man kann dann darangehen, wieder ein anderes Leben zu charaktetisieren, das Leben derjenigen Persönlichkeit, die Sie kennen als Johannes den Täufer, und hat die Möglichkeit zu erfahren, wie aus dem Munde Johannes des Täufers die Menschheit erfahren sollte, was in unmittelbarer Nähe kommen sollte. «Ändert die Seelenverfassung!», so ungefähr waren die Worte des Täufers, «schauet nicht mehr in die Zeiten rückwärts, wo man das Göttliche nur am Ausgangspunkte der Menschheitsentwickelung gesucht hat, schauet in die eigene Seele und in das, was am tiefsten in ihr ist, dann werdet ihr erkennen, daß die Reiche der Himmel nahe herbeigekommen sind!» Das heißt, daß die Entwickelung vorliegt, daß das Ich tatsächlich in sich das Göttliche finden kann. Wir sehen eine Art Heroldschaft des Christentums verändert gegenüber dem Elias durch den Lauf der Zeit. Wir sehen, wenn wir die äußere Persönlichkeit des Johannes des Täufers charakterisieren, wie er uns eigentlich ganz anderes darstellt. Aber nun haben wir durch die Geisteswissenschaft erfahren und leben uns in diese Dinge immer mehr und mehr hinein, daß es dieselbe Wesenheit ist, die in dem Propheten Elias dagestanden hat und die in Johannes dem Täufer wieder auflebte. Wir fügen, um das einzelne Leben zu verstehen, das hinzu, was der Orient schon gehabt hat. Nur hat er nicht das Kraftvolle der Einzelpersönlichkeit in einer so außerordentlichen Weise betont.

Wir gehen weiter. Wir haben dann die Möglichkeit, jene merkwürdige Persönlichkeit zu charakterisieren, die zwischen dem Jahre 1483 und 1520 gelebt hat, die am Karfreitag des Jahres 1483 geboren ist und gleichsam dadurch sich hineinstellte lebendig - um schon durch ihre Geburt das anzukündigen - in das Mysterium von Golgatha. Wir lernen also kennen die Gestalt des großen Malers Raffael. Man ist in der Betrachtung des Abendlandes selbstverständlich gewohnt, nun Raffael wieder für sich zu betrachten. Aber gerade, wenn heute die Gestalt Raffaels betrachtet wird, muß man sagen, einer umfassenderen, tieferen Weltbetrachtung gegenüber wird es bald erscheinen, daß eigentlich die abendländische Betrachtung gegenüber Raffael kaum ausreicht. Sonderbar erscheint da dem, der tiefer die Dinge zu betrachten strebt, diese merkwürdige Gestalt des Raffael. Es ist, wie wenn seine Begabung unmittelbar mit ihm geboren ist. Wir sehen ihn, wie er sich an einem Karfreitag — man kann es so sagen — «geboren werden läßt», um gleichsam zu zeigen, wie er sich in das Mysterium von Golgatha hineinstellt. Dann sehen wir, wie wir gar nicht anders können als ihn so ähnlich zu betrachten, wie wenn gleich in seiner allerersten Anlage alles sich angekündigt hat, was in seiner späteren Größe wieder aufgetreten ist. Früh verwaist, ist er in die Welt hinausgeworfen, in den römischen Glanz und die Herrlichkeit hineingeworfen. Da sehen wir ihn Schritt für Schritt aufsteigen in einem kurzen Leben zu einer ungeheuren Höhe.

Was ist nun dieses Leben Raffaels? Merkwürdig erscheint es uns. Wir brauchen nur ein wenig die Umgebung zu betrachten, in die Raffael hineingeboren ist. Denken Sie, daß er hineingeboren ist in die Wende des 15. zum 16. Jahrhundert, in eine Zeit der umfänglichsten Streitigkeiten auf religiösem Gebiete, wo das Christentum zerspalten war in Sekten über Sekten über die ganze Erde hin, in denen die mächtigsten, aber auch furchtbarsten Kämpfe stattfanden in bezug auf das Christentum. Wir betrachten nun seine Bilder. Sonderbar, wie uns seine Bilder erscheinen! Wir können sie nicht betrachten, ohne zu vergessen, was dazumal rund herum im Christentum vorgegangen ist, und sehen etwas höchst Eigenartiges uns entgegenleuchten: den Jubel über die Größe der Kraft des Christentums, wie es eingegriffen hat in die Menschheitsentwickelung! Wir stellen uns heute vor ein solches Bild wie die «Schule von Athen», wie man sie gewöhnlich nennt, wir sehen da jene merkwürdigen Gestalten, welche die Philister dadurch entziffern, daß sie den Baedeker in die Hand nehmen und nun wissen: das eine ist der Sokrates, das andere der Diogenes und so weiter, während es uns für die Kunstbetrachtung gar nichts sagt. Aber eines fühlen wir, wenn wir lediglich das Evangelium in die Hand nehmen und namentlich die Apostelgeschichte aufmerksam lesen, daß in einem Bilde vor uns steht die ganze Kraft des Unterschiedes, der da war zwischen den vorchristlichen Anschauungen in Griechenland und denen des Christentums selber. Das tritt uns auch entgegen in dem anderen Bilde, in der «Disputa », wie man sie nennt, aber nicht nennen sollte. Es ist wahr, man hat in der «Schule von Athen » jene Szene aus dem Evangelium vor sich, wo die Griechen vernehmen, daß eine Persönlichkeit ankam, die da sagt: Ihr habt bisher gehört von allerlei Göttern. Aber das Göttliche drückt sich nicht aus in Bildern. Großes habt ihr von den lebenden Göttern gesagt. Es gibt noch Größeres: das Große von dem Gotte, der am Kreuz gestorben und auferstanden ist! - Und wir fühlen seine Kraft und treten vor das Bild, das man die «Schule von Athen» nennt, und schauen die merkwürdigen Philosophenköpfe, die aufmerksam zuhören, als Paulus spricht. Und es vergeht uns dann vor dem unmittelbaren Anblick die philiströse Ausdeutung, die erst später gegeben worden ist: daß man es da zu tun habe in der Mitte mit Aristoteles, Plato und so weiter. Wir fühlen, daß Raffael eigentlich jenen Moment hinstellen wollte, da Paulus unter die Griechen trat. Ja, wenn Sie genau im Evangelium nachsehen, so finden Sie sogar in jener Gestalt mit der bedeutsam weisenden Gebärde eine Persönlichkeit aus dem Evangelium. So daß man im Evangelium sogar das Modell für eine Persönlichkeit dieses Bildes schen könnte: nämlich für die Persönlichkeit des Paulus!

Und so gehen wir von Bild zu Bild, vergessen, was sich rings ereignet hat, weil eine große Kraft aus den Bildern spricht, und wir haben die Empfindung: Da lebt das Christentum in seiner größten Kraft in den Bildern fort, die Raffael geschaffen hat, da lebt ein Christentum, über das kein Streit sein kann, da lebt ein Christentum, über das man sich nicht in Sekten zerspalten kann. — Man weiß in der nächsten Zeit nur nicht viel von diesem Christentum, das lebendig durch die Bilder des Raffael wirkt. Wenn man sie noch genauer anschaut, dann hat man ein anderes Gefühl noch, ein Gefühl, wie wenn derjenige, der diese Bilder gemalt hat, die ewige Jugendlichkeit, die ewige Siegeskraft des Christentums hätte malen wollen. Und dann fragen wir uns vielleicht, wenn wir so diese Bilder anschauen: Wie war nun die Fortwirkung dieser Bilder? |

Wir brauchen uns nur zu erinnern, daß bald die Zeit kam, in der ein solcher Kunstdespot wie Bernini, der so Ungeheures für die Veräußerlichung der Kunst getan hat, warnte vor der Nachahmung Raffaels; man kann sogar von einem Vergessen Raffaels sprechen. Und in Deutschland und Westeuropa sah es im 18. Jahrhundert sonderbar aus mit Raffael und dem Verständnisse Raffaels. Lesen Sie den ganzen Voltaire, und Sie werden kaum einiges über Raffael finden. Sie können noch einen anderen sich anschauen, der später allerdings zu anderer Anschauung gekommen ist. Sie können nachdenken darüber, wie merkwürdig es Goethe gegangen ist, als er das erste Mal die Dresdener Galerie besucht hat. Vielleicht werden Sie voraussetzen, wenn Sie vor die «Sixtinische Madonna » hintreten, daß da ein lichtes Entzücken über dieses Bild in Goethes Seele aufgegangen sei. Sie könnten es voraussetzen nach all den Lobeshymnen, mit denen er später über die «Sixtinische Madonna» gesprochen hat. Aber wir müssen uns erinnern, was er gehört hatte von den Dresdener Galeriebeamten und von denen, welche die offiziellen Hüter dieses Bildes waren. Da hörte er, daß das Kind in den Armen der Mutter, dem wir das ungemeine Hellsehen in den Augen ansehen, gemein realistisch gemalt sei; es könnte nicht von Raffael herrühren, sondern müsse von einem andern übermalt worden sein. Und besonders könnten die kleinen Engel nicht von Raffael herstammen. Es war nicht ein Siegeszug, als die «Sixtinische Madonna » in Dresden einzog. Allerdings ist es dann ein Verdienst Goethes gewesen, daß er, nachdem er zu einer Würdigung Raffaels gekommen war, zum Verständnisse der «Sixtinischen Madonna» und Raffaels überhaupt beigetragen hat.

Schauen wir jetzt den Gang der Entwickelung im 19. Jahrhundert an. Nehmen wir einmal davon Abstand, was sich in den katholischen Ländern zugetragen hat und sehen wir nur auf protestantische Gegenden, denen das Dogma der Maria konfessionell fern liegt. Sehen wir da, was für ein Siegeszug nicht nur mit der «Sistinischen Madonna », sondern mit allen Raffaelschen Madonnen sich vollzogen hat. Da können wir dann bemerken, selbst wenn wir jetzt nicht die Originale im Auge haben, sondern an die vielen, in bester Art hergestellten Stiche denken, wie sich die Menschen bemühen, Raffaels ganzes Schaffen in möglichst vollkommener Art vor die Menschheit hinzustellen. Wenige Menschen haben doch Gelegenheit, immer die Originale an den Ursprungsstätten zu sehen. Man kann selbstverständlich an einem Stiche nicht sehen, was das eigentlich Künstlerische ist; das zu glauben, wäre eine rohe Barbarei. Aber da ist etwas anderes eingezogen in die Entwickelung der Menschheit: da ist in die Gegenden, die überhaupt nichts wissen wollten von dem Dogma der unbefleckten Empfängnis, ein Christentum eingezogen, unabhängig von allen konfessionellen Unterschieden. Die Leute haben die konfessionellen Unterschiede in Theorien und Systemen verfochten. Und während sie dies taten, ist ein einheitliches Bild dieses großen Mysteriums — man möchte sagen: in okkulten Schriftzügen - in den Nachbildungen der Raffaelschen Kunst eingezogen, dieses Mysterium wieder belebend. Ein Herold des Christentums steht wieder vor uns. Großes und Ungeheutes wird sich in Zukunft daraus noch entwickeln. Und wenn wir Verständnis dafür haben, werden uns zu Hilfe kommen die Empfindungen, die in die Menschheit eingedrungen sind: was herunterstrahlt von dem Bilde der «Sixtinischen Madonna», von der «Madonna mit den Fischen» und anderen Madonnen oder von der «Schule von Athen», der «Disputa » und andern Bildern von Raffael. Ohne daß sie es wissen, haben heute die Menschen in ihren Seelen die Gefühle eines interkonfessionellen Christentums, das da lebt in dieser wunderbaren okkulten Schrift.

Wieder hat einer verkündet und vorherbegründet wie ein Herold einen neuen Aufschwung des Christentums: Raffael, nachdem ihn zuerst die Menschen nicht verstanden haben. Wir lernen durch die okkulte Forschung, daß dieselbe Individualität, die einst in Elias und später in Johannes dem Täufer wirkte, wieder auf der Erde gelebt hat in Raffael. Wir lernen dadurch verstehen, wie die Kräfte sich hindurchentwickeln von Leben zu Leben in derselben Seele, und wir lernen manches verstehen als Wirkung früherer Ursachen. Der Täufer wurde enthauptet. Sein Werk ging erst wieder auf in dem, was sein großer Nachfolger tat. Vergessen wurde die neue Heroldschaft des Täufers in Raffael durch lange Zeiten hindurch. Wieder auf ging es in dem, was wir auch geisteswissenschaftlich über den Christus-Impuls wieder zu sagen haben. Wie unendlich lichtvoll wird unser Verständnis gefördert, wenn wir verbinden die Charakteristiken dessen, was durch die einzelnen Persönlichkeiten hindurchgeht, und wie anschaulich wird uns dann die einzelne Persönlichkeit!

Ich sagte, die Bilder des Raffael erscheinen uns wie ein Jubel über die Kraft des Christentums. Raffael steht selbstverständlich auf dem Boden der Ereignisse der christlichen Tatsachen; aber in einer ganz eigenartigen Weise verkörpert er das, aus bestimmten Gefühlen heraus. Wir lassen den Blick schweifen und fragen uns: Raffael hat so Großes geleistet in bezug auf die künstlerische Verkörperung der christlichen Kraft; was hat Raffael nicht gemalt? — Er hat keine Szene auf dem Ölberg gemalt, er hat keine Kreuzigung gemalt. Als er eine Kreuztragung gemalt hat, ist es ein sehr schlechtes Bild geworden: wir sehen, daß es wie in einem Auftrage entstand. Er hat auch nichts gemalt von den Szenen, die der Kreuzigung vorangegangen sind. Erst da erhebt sich Raffael zu voller Größe, als er zu verkörpern hat die Gestalt des großen Nachfolgers des Johannes: die Gestalt des Paulus in dem Bilde der «Schule von Athen», oder wenn er, mit Übergehen der übrigen christlichen Ereignisse, die Transfiguration malt. Aus dem, was Raffael nicht gemalt hat, gewinnen wir ein gewisses Verständnis dafür, wie es ihm ferne lag, dasjenige zu malen, was sich erst als Ereignis auf der Erde zugetragen — nicht auf die spirituelle Welt bezieht sich das -, nachdem er in seinem vorhergehenden Leben enthauptet war. Man empfindet es unmittelbar, warum Raffael weniger diese Bilder gemalt hat. Ja, wenn man diese Bilder anschaut, so hat man an allem, was aus der Zeit nach der Enthauptung des Johannes stammt, die Empfindung, daß es nicht so, wie es bei den andern Bildern der Fall ist, aus der früheren Erinnerung hervorgegangen ist.

Wenn man das alles zusammennimmt, kann man aber wieder eine andere Empfindung haben. Man kann dann die Empfindung haben: Was wird einstmals in der Menschheit in zukünftigen Jahrhunderten, man braucht nicht einmal an Jahrtausende zu denken, mit all den Bildern, die als so große, gewaltige Symbole gewirkt haben? - Man wird gewiß lange Zeit die Reproduktionen haben, aber nicht mehr lange die Originale. Wer heute mit Wehmut das Bild Leonardo da Vincis «Das Abendmahl» anschaut, der bekommt eine Anschauung, was aus der physischen Substanz dieser Bilder einst wird. Ja, man bekommt auf der andern Seite noch eine Anschauung: daß man erst, wenn man sich aus der Geisteswissenschaft heraus eine Anschauung dafür verschaffen kann, was Raffael zum Beispiel in der «Schule von Athen» und in der «Disputa » gemalt hat, eine richtige Würdigung dieser Bilder bekommt. Denn, was man heute an den Wänden im Vatikan zu Rom sieht, das ist ja durch die vielen Aufbesserungen und so weiter schon etwas ganz Verdorbenes. Man kann nicht die ursprüngliche Vorstellung der Originale mehr haben; denn durch die vielen Aufbesserungen ist jetzt schon Ungeheures verdorben. Wie wird es also damit in wenigen Jahrhunderten sein? Alle Erhaltungskünste der Menschen werden nicht ausreichen, um das Material der Bilder vor dem Verfall zu schützen. Hingeschwunden wird es in wenigen Jahrhunderten sein. Man wird die Motive kennen, gewiß; aber was damals Raffael als sein Ureigenes geleistet hat, das wird hinschwinden. Da geht uns der Gedanke auf: Ist die Menschheitsentwickelung nun wirklich nichts anderes, als daß die Dinge fortwährend entstehen, um dann ins Wesenlose hinunterzusinken?

Unser Blick schweift weiter und wir kommen zu der jugendlichen Gestalt des deutschen Dichters Novalis. Wenn wir uns auf Novalis einlassen, sehen wir erstens in seinen Schriften das wunderbare Auferstehen des Christus-Gedankens in einer eigenartigen Weise, aber in einer ganz merkwürdigen Weise, die wir uns vielleicht so charakterisieren können: Wenn wir uns heute in die Geisteswissenschaft hinein vertiefen und mit allen Mitteln, welche sie uns gibt, zu verstehen suchen die Hineinstellung des Christus-Impulses in die Menschheitsentwickelung, und zu verstehen suchen, was wir alles brauchen, um den Christus-Impuls zu begreifen, und uns dann zu Novalis wenden, so sehen wir überall etwas, was wir nur anzufassen brauchen, um es aufgehen zu lassen in unserer Seele. Es finden sich überall die großartigsten Inspirationen über geisteswissenschaftliche Dinge, die sich ausnehmen wie die größten wissenschaftlichen Träume, die aber aufgehen können in unserer Seele und dort weiterleben können. Da können wir sehen, daß er etwas gibt, was wie Samenkörner sich hineinlebt in die Menschheit und in Zukunft aufgehen kann. Wieder etwas wie eine Heroldschaft für das Christentum! In ähnlicher Weise ein Anfang, trotz aller Verschiedenheit, wie das ein Anfang war, was der Täufer geleistet hat. Und wir selber finden die Veranlassung, uns zu der merkwürdigen Gestalt des Novalis zu stellen, und wir fühlen, wie da lebendige Theosophie herausströmt, aber überall unter christlichen Inspirationen. Dann fühlt man, daß wieder etwas da ist, was für das Christentum Heroldschaft für die Zukunft ist.

Die okkulte Forschung zeigt uns: es ist dieselbe Individualität, die in Elas, in Johannes dem Täufer, in Raffael gewirkt hat, die in Novalis wiedererscheint. Wir fügen wieder hinzu, was als die Individualität dutch die einzelnen Persönlichkeiten hindurchgeht. Wir finden für das Werk Johannes des Täufers bei Raffael ein neues Auferstehen und sagen uns: Dafür, daß das Werk Raffaels nicht untergehe, trotzdem das, was Raffael auf die Wände gemalt hat, untergeht, dafür kann Raffael selber sorgen, wie er dafür gesorgt hat, daß das andere nicht untergegangen ist. Ja, wir können sagen: Wie er gesorgt hat, daß eine neue Art dessen, was er den Menschen einst zu verkünden hatte, wiederauferstanden ist, so wird er dazu immer wieder imstande sein, in seinen folgenden Wiederverkörperungen.

So vermag die menschliche Individualität dasjenige weiterzutragen, was sie einmal geleistet hat, durch die Sphäre der Ewigkeit.

Vielleicht mehr als an den bloßen äußeren geisteswissenschaftlichen Lehren, an der Betrachtung der Gesetze bloß, geht uns an solchen konkreten Fällen, die ja immer mehr und mehr hinzukommen werden zu den bloßen abstrakten Gesetzen, das auf, was theosophische Welt- und Lebensbetrachtung der Welt und Menschheit sein wird: verständlich wie diejenigen Dinge, die uns in der äußeren Welt entgegentreten. Und man bekommt dann ganz merkwürdige Gefühle und Empfindungen, wenn man gerade solchen konkreten Beispielen gegenüber das betrachtet, was sich mehr im geheimen der menschlichen Seelenentwickelung zuträgt. Natürlich haben die Menschen, die bisher Raffael betrachteten, da die geistige Forschung selbst eine junge Offenbarung ist, nichts wissen können von dem, was Raffael durch die Zeitenwende trägt, was seine Kraft ist. Aber da jetzt aufgehen muß die Idee der Wiederverkörperung der menschlichen Wesenheit, auch wenn man nichts weiß im Konkreten, so kann es vorkommen, daß einem ein unbestimmtes Gefühl aufsteigt, als ob da etwas mitspielte.

Dafür trat mir in den letzten vierzehn Tagen ein merkwürdiges Beispiel auf. Es fiel mir wieder ein, wie ein sehr bedeutender RaftaelForscher über Raffael spricht: der geistvolle Kunsthistoriker Herman Grimm. Als er über Raffael sprach und ihn charakterisierte, wußte er ja selbstverständlich nichts von Geisteswissenschaft und betrachtete Raffaels eines Leben, betrachtete Raffaels Ruhm in den verschiedenen Jahrhunderten, sah seinen abnehmenden und wieder aufsteigenden Ruhm, und im Zusammenhange damit das Fortleben Raffaels in den verschiedenen Jahrhunderten in seinen Schöpfungen. Da kam Herman Grimm der merkwürdige Gedanke, den er hineingeheimnißte in sein Buch über Raffael, das er schreiben wollte, das aber Fragment geblieben ist. Da sagte er, eine Empfindung ausdrückend, ganz instinktiv: Wenn man alles betrachtet, was da fortleben soll in der Menschheitsentwickelung, und sich eine Perspektive verschafft für die Zukunft, so könnte einem der Gedanke kommen, daß man alles das wiedererleben wird! — Eine solche Sache ist unendlich bezeichnend, bezeichnend dafür, wie in denen, die gedankenvoll und gefühlvoll die Menschheitsentwickelung betrachten, instinktiv der Gedanke des Wiederlebens wie in einer Sehnsucht in den Seelen auftaucht, weil er sich ergibt als etwas, ohne das das übrige keinen Sinn hat. Das ist so unendlich bedeutsam. Und wenn man solche Dinge betrachtet, bekommt man eine Idee, eine schöne und berechtigte Idee, was Geisteswissenschaft der Menschheitsentwickelung wird geben können und ihr zu geben hat, und welche Bereicherung das Menschenleben in allen seinen Formen durch eine solche Erkenntnis des Gesetzes von Reinkarnation und Karma erfahren wird.

Wenn allerdings die Menschheit eine solche Bereicherung des Lebens wird erfahren sollen, dann wird sie sich daran gewöhnen müssen, Geistiges mit derselben Genauigkeit zu beobachten, wie man sonst nur das Physische beobachtet, wird beobachten müssen, wie die Wiederholungen des Physischen ein großes Gesetz sind alles Daseins, und daß die Wiederholung - wie die Wiederkehr des Seelischen in den Leibern — auch ein Gesetz ist der Wiederkehr der verschiedenen Lebensinhalte. Aber auch dazu gibt es durchaus Vorbereitungen, auch dazu gibt es durchaus, man möchte sagen, menschliche Sehnsuchten, menschliche Hoffnungen, menschliches instinktives Wissen, das sich nach und nach in den letzten Jahren heranentwickelt hat. Wir brauchen nur daran anzuknüpfen und es erscheint uns Geisteswissenschaft so, als wenn sie sich heranentwickelt hat, als ob die Menschen nicht wissen, daß sie schon davon träumten, sie instinktiv fühlten. Aber da, wo sie nachgedacht haben über das geistige Leben, da haben sie hingewiesen auf das, was sie fühlen konnten von dem großen rhythmischen Gang der Wiederkehr der Erscheinungen, und von der Wiederkehr der Erscheinung der menschlichen Seele selber.

Da ist es interessant, wenn wir eine Erscheinung hervorheben wollen, die ich leicht ins Hundertfache vermehren könnte, weil sie uns entgegentritt bei allen Geistern, die den Gang der Menschheitsentwickelung auf sich haben wirken lassen und dabei ein Gefühl bekamen, was das rhythmische Wiederholen, was die rhythmische Wiederkehr der Ereignisse ist. Auf eines sei hingewiesen, um zu zeigen, wie dieser Gedanke Platz greift, aber zugleich in der Seele etwas auftreibt, obwohl der Betreffende noch nicht moderner Theosoph sein konnte. Denn die Erscheinung, die ich erzähle, ist in einem künstlerischen Werke aus dem Jahre 1835 enthalten. Er konnte es noch nicht wissen, wie sich die Zukunft der Menschheitsentwickelung im Sinne der Geisteswissenschaft darstellt. Dennoch quillt ihm etwas auf, was wie ein Traum ist, was sich ihm ergibt als Menschheitszukunftsperspektive, was sich gründet auf die Betrachtung der Wiederholung der menschlichen Erscheinung. Es ist der deutsch-österreichische Dichter Anastasius Grün, den ich meine; er hat im Jahre 1835 seine Dichtung «Schutt» veröffentlicht, in der sich eine Darstellung findet, wo er durch fünf Wiederkehrungen eine Erscheinung verfolgt: das Wiederkehren in gewissem Rhythmus der geistigen Botschaft, die in der Menschheit wirkt. Anastasius Grün weist darauf hin, wie der Christus jedes Jahr am ersten Ostertage geistig wieder besucht den Ölberg, um alle die Stätten zu sehen, an denen er gelebt und gelitten hat. Von fünf solchen Wiederkehrungen, von denen vier in der Vergangenheit liegen und die fünfte in der Zukunft spielt, redet Grün in seiner Dichtung «Schutt». Die erste spielt in der Zeit, nachdem Jerusalem zerstört ist. Die zweite, so meint er, ereignet sich, «da der Christus anschaut, wie die Kreuzfahrer Jerusalem erobert haben», und hinunterschaut, wie es zugeht an den Stätten, die er einstmals betreten hat. Die dritte Wiederkehr fällt in die Zeit, da der Islam seine Macht über Jerusalem ausbreitet, die vierte in jene Zeit, da die Menschheit in allerlei Sekten gespalten ist und sich kämpfend verhält in bezug auf das, was von dem Christus ausgegangen ist.

Das alles beschreibt Grün mit einer gewissen Anschaulichkeit. Dann geht ihm eine Perspektive auf von einer weit, weit, fernliegenden Wiederkehr des Christus einmal an einem ersten Östertage. Wenn das auch äußerlich träumerisch, wenn das auch utopistisch ist, so muß man doch sehen, daß die Empfindungen — von dem Inhalt abgesehen etwas enthalten von dem Beseligenden, was die Menschenseele erhalten kann, was ihr durch die okkulte Forschung, namentlich seit dem 13. Jahrhundert, werden kann, wenn sie hinblickt auf die Zukunft, wo durch die große spirituelle Kultur Segen verbreitet wird gegenüber den Kämpfen und Verwüstungen. Und Grün sieht das Beseligende in der Zukunftskultur und malt eine künftige Wiederkehr des Christus an einem ersten Ostertage am Ölberg und schildert sie, wie sie sich ihm darstellte in seiner Phantasie. Er stellt sich vor, wie Kinder auf Golgatha spielen, wie sie die Erde umgegraben haben und eine merkwürdige Sache-aus Eisen finden, von der sie nicht wissen, was sie ist; später stellt sich heraus, daß es ein Schwert ist. Und die beseligende Empfindung überkommt ihn, daß er sich sagt: Es werden Zeiten kommen, in denen man vergessen haben wird die Bestimmung, die ein solcher Gegenstand hatte, der einem Schwert ähnlich ist. Man wird das Schwert wie einen sonderbaren Gegenstand anstaunen. Und dann sagt er: Es wurde das Eisen zur Pflugschar verwendet. — Und Grün malt sich das Gefühl aus, das ihm quillt aus der rhythmischen Wiederkehr der Erscheinung des Christus am Ölberge. Dann graben die Kinder weiter, und was sie ausgraben, was man auch schon vergessen hat, was man aber wieder in der Erscheinung gewinnen wird, ist ein steinernes Kreuz! Man hat es schon vergessen. Man nimmt es wieder auf und er sagt, daß man mit dem Kreuz etwas Besonderes tut, um anzudeuten, welche Rolle von jetzt ab das Kreuz haben wird. Und so stellt er dasjenige dar, was er empfindet, als die Kinder bei der Wiederkehr des Christus ein Kreuz ausgraben und dann dieses Kreuz der ganzen Menschheit zeigen, und wie dann die Funktion und die Kraft sein wird, welche das Kreuz für die ganze Menschheit haben wird:

Ob sie’s auch kennen nicht, doch steht’s voll Segen
Aufrecht in ihrer Brust, in ew’gem Reiz,
Es blüht sein Same rings auf allen Wegen;
Denn was sie nimmer kannten, war ein Kreuz!
Sie sahn den Kampf nicht und sein blutig Zeichen,
Sie sehn den Sieg allein und seinen Kranz.
Sie sahn den Sturm nicht mit den Wetterstreichen,
Sie sehn nur seines Regenbogens Glanz!

Das Kreuz von Stein, sie stellen’s auf im Garten,
Ein rätselhaft, ehrwürdig Altertum,
Dran Rosen rings und Blumen aller Arten
Empor sich ranken, kletternd um und um.

So steht das Kreuz inmitten Glanz und Fülle
Auf Golgatha, glorreich, bedeutungsschwer:
Verdeckt ist’s ganz von seiner Rosen Hülle,
Längst sieht vor Rosen man das Kreuz nicht mehr.

Fifth Lecture

If we compare what has come to light in the course of human evolution in terms of spiritual life, views of the spiritual world, and the world in general, we get, on the one hand, a picture of meaningful progress, of progress in the entire evolution of humanity throughout the world. And when we follow this progress with the means of spiritual research and spiritual scientific thinking, we get the impression that human beings as individual beings participate in the overall progress of humanity by passing through successive periods and epochs with their souls in successive reincarnations of their existence, and thus have the opportunity, so to speak, on the one hand, to carry over everything he has acquired in his soul in ancient and more recent times, but also, on the other hand, to participate in everything, so to speak, when he has lived with his soul in one cultural epoch, so that he does not disappear for the overall development of the earth, but remains in order to participate again in what the earth has achieved in later times. We perceive such overall progress. But we need only recall a few things that have been emphasized frequently in our spiritual-scientific observations, and we will see that progress is not so simple and straightforward that one could say it begins with simple, primitive things and rises ever higher and higher, but that progress and the whole of development are something complicated.

When we consider the post-Atlantean period, we gain an insight into how, after the great Atlantean catastrophe, there was first a cultural epoch which we call the ancient Indian epoch, of such a high level, with such insight into the spiritual world, as has not been attained since that time, and as will only be attained again when the fifth and sixth post-Atlantean cultural epochs will have passed and the seventh will be here again. Thus, with regard to certain types of human spiritual development, we find a periodic descent, followed by an ascent. We find, for example, the Greek-Latin culture, which we say represents in a certain sense a high point in terms of the marriage of the Greek people with art and in terms of the institutions of Greek and Roman state life, so that a certain harmonious coexistence of human beings with the physical plane was achieved. But we also see that this epoch is characterized by a saying of the great Greek: Better to be a beggar in the upper world than a king in the realm of shadows! — This means that in this epoch of the highest human splendor on the physical plane, there is only a slight awareness of the significance of the spiritual world that lies beyond the physical plane. And since that time, we have seen a decline in humanity's immediate connection to the physical plane, a decline in the great things that were achieved in this direction, but we also see a gradual growth of humanity into the spiritual worlds. This is said to characterize the fact that the course of human development is a complicated one and that, when one emphasizes the advantages and bright sides of one epoch, one does not thereby mean that other epochs that do not have these characteristics are to be considered inferior in an absolute sense. When we often speak of what Christianity has brought into the world, we know that we are only at the beginning in this respect and that those spiritual heights attained in the East before the time of Christianity have not yet been regained. We must take all this into account so that no one gets the impression that, when we emphasize the advantages of one age, we are being unfair to the greatness and significance of other epochs. In this sense, I ask you to understand that I am not trying to characterize one side as having an advantage and the other as having a disadvantage. I merely wish to point out a difference when I characterize the difference between certain developments in non-Christian, not even ancient Hebrew, but pre-Christian Oriental cultural development and Christianity itself, namely Christianity as we see it reemerging through the spiritual-scientific deepening of this Christianity.

When we look into the Oriental worldview, we see that it had something on which it stood firm, to which it pointed again and again, and which Christianity in its previous development took less account of. The Eastern worldview had that idea, that great world law, which we are now regaining through spiritual science: the view of the return of the human being in different earthly lives and of the law of karma. While Christianity for centuries has only reckoned with human life between birth and death and a simple life in heaven following it, we in the Eastern world already have the clear knowledge of the return of the human being in repeated earthly lives. And the significance of the Eastern worldview is always drawn from this great law of human evolution. This has given rise in Eastern teaching to a view of the leaders, great teachers, and heroes of human evolution that is fundamentally different from everything that has developed in the Western world about great leaders and heroes. Within Eastern worldviews, we find references to beings who, we are told from the outset, always return and whose significance can be recognized precisely through the significance of their successive earthly lives.

We see Gautama Buddha standing before us and already in his name we see what is important. For Buddha is not a proper name, as Socrates, Raphael, or other proper names are, but a title denoting rank. And on the basis of the worldview in which the Buddha's teaching arose, one speaks of many Buddhas. Buddha is a dignity. We have often emphasized that before Gautama Buddha became the Buddha of whom the Eastern worldview speaks today, he was a bodhisattva. This means that the Eastern worldview looks at the individuality that passes through the individual incarnations, sees how individuality rises from incarnation to incarnation and then reaches the height that is attained with the dignity of Buddha. And then individuality, with all that it has achieved, is not designated by a proper name. In Buddhism, when speaking of the Buddha's individuality, it is rare to speak of Prince Siddhartha, but rather of a dignity, a dignity to which he did not ascend alone, but to which everyone can ascend. Thus, when the Eastern worldview points to great leaders, it points to that which passes through repeated earthly lives, and it attributes the greatness and significance of its leaders precisely to what they have acquired through repeated earthly lives.

Let us compare this phenomenon with what Western cultural development has set itself as its goal. We hear stories about the greatness of Plato, about the greatness of Socrates. We encounter figures such as Paul. Indeed, we can already begin in the Old Testament, where we encounter a figure such as Moses. Further on we meet figures such as Raphael, Michelangelo, Leonardo da Vinci, and others. In the West one speaks of the individual personality, and does not have in mind the individuality that runs through repeated earthly lives. People do not turn their gaze to what goes from birth to death, from death to birth, but speak of what stood and lived as an individual human personality from this year to that year. Thus we see that the Eastern worldview sees more of the continuous individuality that passes from embodiment to embodiment, but that Western culture has cared little about what, for example, Socrates was in earlier earthly lives before he became Socrates, or what will become of him in later lives. We do the same with Paul or others. This is a significant difference. It is simply a matter of characterizing it by saying that the whole essence of the West has hitherto consisted in emphasizing the importance of personality, the importance of the individual life of the human being. Only now, when we are standing before a great upheaval in spiritual life, are we beginning, after having acquired a standard within Western culture, so to speak, for judging the individual personality, to rise again to what in the Eastern worldview is taken for granted as the basis for the consideration of the human being, to rise again to what lives in the individual personality as individuality and has passed from life to life. Something peculiar then appears to us as a significant perspective for the future. And humanity will need this perspective for the future more and more.

So we see that we had indeed lost something in the Christian worldview that the East already had, and that we are only now beginning to regain. The course of human development is such that certain old elements must be discarded, new ones added, and the old conquered by the new. Thus, in primeval times, all of humanity once had a kind of primal clairvoyance. This had to be discarded. It was then replaced by purely external perception. And later, what will be future clairvoyance will be added to perception. This is true in general and in particular, but it will bring about something immensely significant for humanity. It had to be this way once, that the West's view of humanity fell apart into individual personalities. But now that humanity is on the verge of necessarily deepening itself, it will naturally find the longing to connect the individual pieces that emerge in human life between birth and death. And then an immense understanding will radiate forth of progress, of the forces that develop through the stream of individual and also of human progress. We can test this in a single case.

You remember the lecture “The Prophet Elijah in the Light of Spiritual Science” given on December 14, 1911, in Berlin. You remember that I pointed out at that time how occult research reveals this image of the prophet to us in a very remarkable way. I will not go into the details now, but only say how occult research has revealed in this image of the prophet that it was Elijah who pointed out with particular intensity and power that what humanity can call divine can actually only be seen in its original form — namely, in the deepest center of the human being — in the true self of the human being. So that, in summary, we can characterize Elijah's great prophetic words as follows: From him came the realization that everything that can be taught to us from the outer world is only a parable, and that knowledge of the true nature of the human being can only arise in one's own I. But Elijah did not come to recognize the power and significance of the individual self; instead, he posited a divine self standing outside of human beings. But this divine self must be recognized; it must be recognized that it shines into the human self. That it rises up in the human ego and unfolds its full power is the conquest of Christianity. Thus, the effectiveness of Elijah appears as something like a heralding of Christianity. This is how one can speak when researching with occult means and characterizing the individual life of Elijah as it stands in the history of human development.

One can then proceed to characterize yet another life, the life of the personality you know as John the Baptist, and has the opportunity to learn how, through the mouth of John the Baptist, humanity was to learn what was about to come in the immediate future. “Change your soul state!” were roughly the words of the Baptist, ”Look no longer back to the times when the divine was sought only at the starting point of human development, look into your own soul and into what is deepest in it, then you will recognize that the kingdoms of heaven have come near!” This means that the development has taken place, that the I can actually find the divine within itself. We see a kind of heralding of Christianity that has changed over time compared to Elijah. When we characterize the outer personality of John the Baptist, we see how he actually presents himself to us in a completely different way. But now, through spiritual science, we have learned and are living more and more into these things, that it is the same being who stood in the prophet Elijah and who lived again in John the Baptist. In order to understand the individual life, we add what the Orient already had. Only, it did not emphasize the powerful force of the individual personality in such an extraordinary way.

Let us continue. We then have the opportunity to characterize that remarkable personality who lived between 1483 and 1520, who was born on Good Friday in 1483 and, as it were, thereby placed himself alive — in order to announce it already through his birth — into the mystery of Golgotha. We thus get to know the figure of the great painter Raphael. When considering the West, one is naturally accustomed to looking at Raphael again for himself. But precisely when Raphael's figure is considered today, it must be said that, when faced with a more comprehensive, deeper view of the world, it soon becomes apparent that the Western view of Raphael is actually hardly sufficient. To those who strive to look more deeply at things, this strange figure of Raphael seems strange. It is as if his talent were born directly with him. We see him, as it were, “being born” on Good Friday, as it were, in order to show how he places himself in the mystery of Golgotha. Then we see that we cannot help but regard him as if everything that would later emerge in his greatness had already been foreshadowed in his very first sketches. Orphaned at an early age, he was thrown out into the world, into the splendor and glory of Rome. There we see him rise step by step in a short life to tremendous heights.

What, then, is this life of Raphael? It seems strange to us. We need only consider the environment into which Raphael was born. Consider that he was born at the turn of the 15th to the 16th century, at a time of widespread religious disputes, when Christianity was divided into sects upon sects across the entire world, and when the most powerful but also the most terrible battles were being fought in the name of Christianity. Let us now look at his paintings. How strange they seem to us! We cannot look at them without forgetting what was happening in Christianity at that time, and we see something highly peculiar shining out at us: the jubilation over the greatness of the power of Christianity as it intervened in the development of humanity! Today, when we stand before a painting such as “The School of Athens,” as it is commonly called, we see those strange figures, which the philistines decipher by picking up a Baedeker guidebook and knowing that one is Socrates, the other is Diogenes, and so on, while it says nothing to us as art connoisseurs. But when we take the Gospel in our hands and read the Acts of the Apostles attentively, we feel that before us stands a picture of the whole power of the difference that existed between the pre-Christian views in Greece and those of Christianity itself. This also strikes us in the other image, in the “Disputa,” as it is called, but should not be called. It is true that in the “School of Athens” we have before us that scene from the Gospel where the Greeks hear that a personality has arrived who says: You have heard of all kinds of gods. But the divine cannot be expressed in images. You have said great things about the living gods. There is something greater: the greatness of the God who died on the cross and rose again! And we feel his power and stand before the painting called “The School of Athens” and look at the remarkable heads of philosophers listening attentively as Paul speaks. And then, at the sight of it, the philistine interpretation that was given later, that one is dealing here with Aristotle, Plato, and so on, disappears. We feel that Raphael actually wanted to depict the moment when Paul stepped among the Greeks. Yes, if you look closely at the Gospel, you will even find a personality from the Gospel in that figure with the significant pointing gesture. So that one could even find the model for a personality in this picture in the Gospel: namely, the personality of Paul!

And so we go from picture to picture, forgetting what has happened around us, because a great power speaks from the pictures, and we have the feeling: Christianity lives on in its greatest power in the pictures that Raphael created, a Christianity about which there can be no dispute, a Christianity about which one cannot split into sects. — In the near future, however, not much will be known about this Christianity that lives on through Raphael's paintings. If you look at them more closely, you get another feeling, a feeling as if the person who painted these pictures wanted to paint the eternal youthfulness, the eternal victorious power of Christianity. And then, when we look at these paintings, we might ask ourselves: What was the lasting impact of these paintings?

We need only remember that soon the time came when an artistic despot like Bernini, who did so much to trivialize art, warned against imitating Raphael; one could even speak of Raphael being forgotten. And in Germany and Western Europe in the 18th century, things looked strange with Raphael and the understanding of Raphael. Read all of Voltaire, and you will hardly find anything about Raphael. You can look at another one who later came to a different view. You can think about how strange it was for Goethe when he visited the Dresden Gallery for the first time. Perhaps you will assume, when you stand in front of the “Sistine Madonna,” that a bright delight arose in Goethe's soul at the sight of this painting. You might assume this after all the praise he later showered on the “Sistine Madonna.” But we must remember what he had heard from the Dresden gallery officials and from those who were the official guardians of this painting. He heard that the child in its mother's arms, whose eyes reveal extraordinary clairvoyance, was painted in a crudely realistic style; it could not have been painted by Raphael, but must have been painted over by someone else. And in particular, the little angels could not have been painted by Raphael. The arrival of the “Sistine Madonna” in Dresden was not a triumphal procession. However, it was to Goethe's credit that, having come to appreciate Raphael, he contributed to the understanding of the “Sistine Madonna” and of Raphael in general.

Let us now look at the course of development in the 19th century. Let us leave aside what happened in Catholic countries and look only at Protestant areas, where the dogma of Mary is far removed from the confession. Let us see what a triumphal procession not only the “Sistine Madonna” but all of Raphael's Madonnas have undergone. Even if we do not have the originals before our eyes, but think of the many engravings produced in the finest manner, we can see how people strive to present Raphael's entire oeuvre to humanity in the most perfect way possible. Few people have the opportunity to always see the originals in their places of origin. Of course, one cannot see what is actually artistic in an engraving; to believe that would be crude barbarism. But something else has entered into the development of humanity: in regions that wanted nothing to do with the dogma of the Immaculate Conception, a Christianity has emerged that is independent of all denominational differences. People have defended denominational differences in theories and systems. And while they were doing so, a unified image of this great mystery—one might say in occult script—has entered the reproductions of Raphael's art, reviving this mystery. A herald of Christianity stands before us once again. Great and tremendous things will develop from this in the future. And when we understand this, the feelings that have penetrated humanity will come to our aid: what radiates from the image of the “Sistine Madonna,” from the “Madonna with the Fish” and other Madonnas, or from the “School of Athens,” the “Disputa,” and other paintings by Raphael. Without knowing it, people today have in their souls the feelings of an interdenominational Christianity that lives in this wonderful occult writing.

Once again, someone has proclaimed and justified, like a herald, a new upswing of Christianity: Raphael, after people did not understand him at first. Through occult research, we learn that the same individuality that once worked in Elijah and later in John the Baptist has lived again on earth in Raphael. We learn to understand how forces develop from life to life in the same soul, and we learn to understand many things as the effects of earlier causes. The Baptist was beheaded. His work was only revived in what his great successor did. The new heraldship of the Baptist in Raphael was forgotten for a long time. It arose again in what we also have to say about the Christ impulse from a spiritual scientific point of view. How infinitely enlightening it is for our understanding when we connect the characteristics of what passes through the individual personalities, and how vividly the individual personality then becomes for us!

I said that Raphael's paintings appear to us as a celebration of the power of Christianity. Raphael naturally stands on the ground of Christian facts, but in a very unique way he embodies this out of certain feelings. We let our gaze wander and ask ourselves: Raphael achieved so much in terms of the artistic embodiment of Christian power; what did Raphael not paint? — He did not paint a scene on the Mount of Olives, he did not paint a crucifixion. When he painted a carrying of the cross, it turned out to be a very poor picture: we can see that it was done as a commission. He also painted nothing of the scenes that preceded the crucifixion. Only when Raphael has to embody the figure of John's great successor, the figure of Paul in the painting “The School of Athens,” or when he paints the Transfiguration, passing over the other Christian events, does he rise to his full stature. From what Raphael did not paint, we gain a certain understanding of how far removed he was from painting what had first happened as an event on earth—this does not refer to the spiritual world—after he had been beheaded in his previous life. One immediately senses why Raphael painted fewer of these pictures. Indeed, when one looks at these pictures, one has the feeling that everything that comes from the time after John's beheading did not arise from earlier memories, as is the case with the other pictures.

When you take all this together, however, you can have a different feeling. You can then have the feeling: What will happen to humanity in future centuries, not even thousands of years, with all these pictures that have had such a powerful symbolic effect? Reproductions will certainly remain for a long time, but the originals will not. Anyone who looks at Leonardo da Vinci's “The Last Supper” with melancholy today gets an idea of what will once become of the physical substance of these pictures. Yes, on the other hand, one also gains an insight: that only when one can gain an insight from spiritual science into what Raphael, for example, painted in “The School of Athens” and in “The Disputation,” can one truly appreciate these paintings. For what we see today on the walls of the Vatican in Rome is, due to the many repairs and so on, already something quite corrupted. One can no longer have the original idea of the originals, for through the many repairs, something tremendous has already been corrupted. So what will it be like in a few centuries? All the preservation techniques of mankind will not be enough to protect the material of the paintings from decay. It will have vanished in a few centuries. People will know the motifs, certainly; but what Raphael achieved as his own original work will disappear. This leads us to the thought: Is the development of humanity really nothing more than things continually coming into being only to sink back into nothingness?

Our gaze wanders further and we come to the youthful figure of the German poet Novalis. When we engage with Novalis, we first see in his writings the wonderful resurrection of the Christ idea in a unique way, but in a very strange way, which we can perhaps characterize as follows: When we immerse ourselves in spiritual science today and seek to understand, with all the means it gives us, the place of the Christ impulse in human evolution, and seek to understand what we need in order to comprehend the Christ impulse, and then turn to Novalis, we see everywhere something that we need only touch in order to let it blossom in our souls. Everywhere we find the most magnificent inspirations about spiritual scientific things, which appear like the greatest scientific dreams, but which can blossom in our souls and live on there. We can see that there is something that lives its way into humanity like seeds and can blossom in the future. Once again, something like a herald of Christianity! In a similar way, despite all the differences, it is a beginning, just as the work of John the Baptist was a beginning. And we ourselves find the motivation to stand alongside the remarkable figure of Novalis, and we feel how living theosophy flows out of him, but everywhere under Christian inspiration. Then one feels that there is something there again that heralds the future for Christianity.

Occult research shows us that it is the same individuality that worked in Elas, in John the Baptist, in Raphael, that reappears in Novalis. We add again what passes through the individual personalities as individuality. We find a new resurrection in Raphael's work on John the Baptist and say to ourselves: Raphael himself can ensure that his work will not perish, even though what he painted on the walls will perish, just as he ensured that the other things did not perish. Yes, we can say: just as he ensured that a new form of what he once had to proclaim to human beings was resurrected, so he will always be able to do so again in his subsequent reincarnations.

In this way, human individuality is able to carry on what it has once achieved through the sphere of eternity.

Perhaps more than in the mere external spiritual scientific teachings, in the consideration of the laws alone, it is in such concrete cases, which will always be added to the mere abstract laws, that we realize what theosophical world and life view of the world and humanity will be: understandable like those things that confront us in the outer world. And one then has very strange feelings and sensations when one considers, in the light of such concrete examples, what is happening more secretly in the development of the human soul. Of what Raphael carries through the turning point of the age, what his power is, people who have hitherto looked at Raphael could of course know nothing, since spiritual research itself is a young revelation. But now that the idea of the reincarnation of the human being must dawn, even if one knows nothing concrete, it can happen that an indefinable feeling arises, as if something were at work.

A strange example of this occurred to me in the last fortnight. I remembered how a very important Raphael scholar, the insightful art historian Herman Grimm, spoke about Raphael. When he spoke about Raphael and characterized him, he knew nothing, of course, about spiritual science. He looked at Raphael's life, at his fame in different centuries, saw his fame decline and rise again, and in connection with this, Raphael's continued existence in his creations throughout the centuries. Then Herman Grimm had a strange thought, which he secretly included in his book about Raphael, which he wanted to write but which remained a fragment. Expressing a feeling, he said quite instinctively: “When you consider everything that is to live on in the development of humanity and gain a perspective on the future, the thought may occur to you that we will experience all of this again! Such a thing is infinitely significant, significant in that, in those who contemplate the development of humanity thoughtfully and sensitively, the idea of rebirth arises instinctively, like a longing in the soul, because it presents itself as something without which the rest has no meaning. This is infinitely significant. And when one considers such things, one gets an idea, a beautiful and justified idea, of what spiritual science can and must give to human evolution, and of the enrichment that human life in all its forms will experience through such knowledge of the law of reincarnation and karma.

However, if humanity is to experience such an enrichment of life, it will have to accustom itself to observing the spiritual with the same precision with which it otherwise observes the physical, to observing how the repetitions of the physical are a great law of all existence, and that repetition — like the return of the soul to the body — is also a law of the return of the various contents of life. But there are also preparations for this, and there are also, one might say, human longings, human hopes, human instinctive knowledge that has gradually developed in recent years. We need only pick up where they left off, and spiritual science appears to us as if it had developed on its own, as if people did not know that they had already dreamed of it, felt it instinctively. But where they have thought about spiritual life, they have pointed to what they could feel of the great rhythmic course of the return of phenomena and of the return of the phenomenon of the human soul itself.

It is interesting to highlight a phenomenon that I could easily multiply a hundredfold, because it confronts us in all spirits who have allowed the course of human development to work upon them and have thereby gained a feeling for what rhythmic repetition, what the rhythmic recurrence of events is. One thing should be pointed out to show how this idea takes hold, but at the same time stirs something in the soul, even though the person concerned could not yet be a modern theosophist. For the phenomenon I am describing is contained in an artistic work from 1835. He could not yet know how the future of human development would unfold in the sense of spiritual science. Nevertheless, something wells up in him that is like a dream, that presents itself to him as a perspective for the future of humanity, based on the observation of the repetition of human phenomena. I am referring to the German-Austrian poet Anastasius Grün, who published his poem “Schutt” in 1835, in which he describes how he follows a phenomenon through five repetitions: the return in a certain rhythm of the spiritual message that works in humanity. Anastasius Grün points out how Christ spiritually returns to the Mount of Olives every year on the first day of Easter to see all the places where he lived and suffered. Grün speaks of five such recurrences in his poem “Schutt,” four of which lie in the past and the fifth in the future. The first takes place in the time after Jerusalem has been destroyed. The second, he believes, occurs “when Christ looks down and sees how the Crusaders have conquered Jerusalem” and looks down to see what is happening in the places he once walked. The third return takes place at the time when Islam is spreading its power over Jerusalem, the fourth at the time when humanity is divided into all kinds of sects and is fighting over what came from Christ.

Grün describes all this with a certain vividness. Then a perspective opens up for him of a far, far distant return of Christ on the first day of Easter. Even if this seems dreamy and utopian, one must nevertheless see that these feelings — apart from their content — contain something of the bliss that the human soul can receive, which has become possible through occult research, especially since the 13th century, when it looks to the future, where the great spiritual culture will spread blessings in contrast to the struggles and devastation. And Grün sees this blissful element in the culture of the future and paints a picture of the future return of Christ on the first day of Easter on the Mount of Olives, depicting it as it appeared to him in his imagination. He imagines children playing on Golgotha, digging up the earth and finding a strange object made of iron, which they do not know what it is; later it turns out to be a sword. And he is overcome by a blissful feeling, saying to himself: There will come a time when people will have forgotten the purpose of such an object, which resembles a sword. People will marvel at the sword as a strange object. And then he says: “The iron was used to make a plowshare.” And Grün paints a picture of the feeling that wells up in him from the rhythmic recurrence of the appearance of Christ on the Mount of Olives. Then the children continue digging, and what they dig up, what has already been forgotten but will be regained in the apparition, is a stone cross! It has already been forgotten. It is picked up again, and he says that something special is done with the cross to indicate the role it will have from now on. And so he depicts what he feels when the children dig up a cross at the return of Christ and then show this cross to all of humanity, and what the function and power of the cross will be for all of humanity:

Though they do not know it, it stands full of blessing
Upright in their hearts, in eternal charm,
Its seed blossoms all around on every path;
For what they never knew was a cross!
They did not see the battle and its bloody sign,
They see only the victory and its crown.
They did not see the storm with its thunder and lightning,
They see only the splendor of its rainbow!

The stone cross, they set it up in the garden,
A mysterious, venerable antiquity,
Around it roses and flowers of all kinds
Climbing up and around it.

So stands the cross amid splendor and abundance
On Golgotha, glorious, full of meaning:
It is completely covered by its veil of roses,
Long since the cross can no longer be seen through the roses.