Donate books to help fund our work. Learn more→

The Rudolf Steiner Archive

a project of Steiner Online Library, a public charity

Festivals of the Seasons
GA 117

21 December 1909, Berlin

5. The Christmas Tree: A Symbolic Rendering

On this day when we meet to celebrate our Christmas festival, it may be seasonable to depart from what has been our customary routine and, instead of seeking after knowledge and truth, to withdraw inwardly, foregathering for a time with that world of feeling and sensations which we are endeavouring to awaken by the aid of the light we receive through Anthroposophy.

This festival now approaching, and which for countless persons presents a time of joyousness—joyousness in the best sense of that word—is, nevertheless, when accepted in the way in which it must be accepted in accordance with our anthroposophical conception of the universe, by no means a very old one.

What is known as the ‘Christian Christmas’ is not coeval with the dawn of Christianity in the world—the earliest Christians, indeed, had no such festival. They did not celebrate the Birth of Christ Jesus. Nearly three hundred years went by before the feast of His Nativity began to be kept by Christianity.

During the first centuries, when the Christian belief was spreading throughout the world, there was a feeling within such souls as had responded to the Christ Impulse inclining persons to withdraw themselves more and more from contact with the external aspects of life prevalent in their day—from what had grown forth from archaic times, as well as from what was extant at the inception of the Christ-Impulse. For a vague instinctive feeling possessed these early Christians—a feeling which seemed to tell them that this Impulse should indeed be so fostered as to form anew the things of this earth—so forming them that new feelings, new sensations, and, above all things, fresh hopes and a new confidence in the development of humanity should permeate all, in contradistinction to the feelings which had before held sway—and that what was to dawn over the horizon of the vast world-life should take its point of departure from a spiritual germ—a spiritual germ which, literally speaking, might be considered as within this Earth.

Oft-times, as you will be aware, have we in the spirit transported ourselves to those Roman catacombs where, removed from the life of the time, the early Christians were wont to rejoice their hearts and souls. In the spirit have we sought admittance to these places of devotion. The earlier celebrations kept here were not in honour of His Birth. At most was the Sunday of each week set apart in order that once in every seven days the great event of Golgotha might he pondered; and beyond this, there were others the anniversaries of whose death were kept during that first century. These dead were those who had transmitted with special enthusiasm the account of that event—men whose impressive participation in the trend thus given to the development of humanity had led to their persecution by a world grown old. Thus it came to pass that the days upon which these Martyrs had entered into glory were kept as the birthdays of humanity by these early Christians. As yet there was no such thing as a celebration of the Birth of Christ. Indeed we may say that it is the coming—the introduction—of this Christ-Birth Festival, that can show how we in the present day have the full right to say: ‘Christianity is not the outcome of this or that dogma, it is not dependent upon this or that institution—dogmas and institutions which have been perpetuated from one generation to another—but we have the right to take Christ’s own words for our justification, when He says that He is with us always, and that He fills us with His Spirit all our days.’ And when we feel this Spirit within us we may deem ourselves called to an increasing, never-ceasing development of the Christian Spirit. The anthroposophical development of the Spirit bids us not foster a Christianity which is frozen and dead, but a new and living Christianity—one ever quickening with new wisdom and fresh knowledge, an evolution from within, stretching forward into the development of the future.

Never do we speak of a Christ Who was, but rather of an eternal and a living Christ. And more especially are we permitted to speak of this living and ever-active Christ—this Christ Who works within us—when the time is at hand for dwelling on the Birth-festival of Christ Jesus, for the Christians of the first centuries were alive to the fact that it was given to them to imbue what was, as it were, the organism of the Christian development with a ‘new thing’—that it was given to them to add thereunto that which was actually streaming into them from the Spirit of Christ.

We must therefore regard the Christmas Festival as one which was not known prior to the fourth century; indeed, we may place the date of the first ‘Christ-Birth’ Festival in Rome as having taken place in the year 354, and it should, moreover, be particularly borne in mind that at a time less critical than is the present, those who confessed themselves Christians were, imbued with the true feeling—a feeling which impelled them to be ever seeking and garnering new fruits from the great Christian Tree of Life.

This perhaps is the reason why we too feel that at such a season we may do well to rejoice in an outward symbol of the Christ’s Birth—in the symbol of the Christmas-tree now before us and around which through the coming days countless people will gather, a symbol whose true meaning it is the mission of Anthroposophy with ever deepening seriousness to impress upon the hearts and souls of men.

We should indeed almost be coming to loggerheads with the evolution of the times were we to take our stand by this symbol—for it is a mistake to imagine it to be an old one. It would be, however, quite easy to imagine that some such poetic belief giving credence to the Christmas-tree being a venerable institution, might arise in the soul of present-day humanity.

There exists a picture which presents the Christmas-tree in Luther’s family parlour. This picture, which was of course painted during the nineteenth century, perpetuates an error, for not only in Germany during Luther’s days, but also amid the surrounding European countries, there were as yet no such trees at Christmas.

May we perhaps not say, that the Christmas-tree of to-day is something which should be taken rather as the prophetic sign of times to come?—that this Tree may, as the years roll on, be regarded ever more and more as the symbol of something stupendous in its meaning—in its importance? Then, indeed, being trammelled by no illusions as regards its historical age, we may let our eyes rest on this Christmas-tree the while we call before our souls an oft-repeated memory—that of the so-called ‘Sacred Legend.’ It runs as follows: When Adam was driven forth from Paradise (this Legend, I should add, is told after many fashions, and I shall here only put the matter as shortly as possible)—when therefore Adam was driven forth from Paradise, he took with him three seeds belonging to the Tree of Life—the tree of which man had been forbidden to eat after he had once eaten of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. And when Adam died, Seth took the three seeds, and placed them in Adam’s grave, and thus there grew from out the grave a tree. The wood of this tree—so runs the legend—has served many purposes: From it Moses is said to have fashioned his staff; while later on, it is said, this wood was taken to form the Cross which was raised upon Golgotha.

In this way does a legend significantly remind us of that other Tree of Paradise, the one which stood second. Man had tasted of the Tree of Knowledge: enjoyment of the Tree of Life was withheld from him.

Yet within the heart of man has remained for evermore a longing, a desire for that Tree.

Driven forth from the Spiritual Worlds—which are signified by ‘Paradise’—into an external world of appearances, men have felt within their hearts that yearning for the Tree of Life.

But what man was denied unearned and in his undeveloped state, was nevertheless to be his through the struggle of attainment when with the aid of cognition he should in the course of time and through his work upon the physical plane, have made himself ripe to receive and capable of using the fruits of the Tree of Life. In those three seeds we have presented to us man’s longing for the Tree of Life.

The Legend tells us that in the wood of the Cross was contained that which came from the Tree of Life, and through the entire development there has been a feeling, a consciousness that the dry wood of the Cross did nevertheless contain the germ of the new spiritual life—that there had been ordained to grow forth from it that which, provided man enjoyed it in the right way, would enable him to unite his soul with the fruit of the Tree of Life—that fruit which should bestow upon him immortality, in the truer sense of the word, giving light to the soul, illumining it in such manner as to enable it to find the way from the dark depths of this physical world to the translucent heights of spiritual existence, there to feel itself as indeed participator in a deathless life.

Without, therefore, giving way to any illusion, we—as beings filled with emotion (rather than as historians)—may well stand before the tree which represents to us the tree of Christmas-tide, and feel the while we do so, something in it symbolical of that light which should dawn in our innermost souls, in order to gain for us immortality in the spiritual existence; and turning our gaze within we feel how the spiritual tendency of anthroposophical thought permeates us with a force which permits of our raising our eyes to behold the World of the Spirit. Therefore, in looking upon this outward symbol—the tree of Christmas-tide—we may indeed say: ‘May it be a symbol to us for that which is destined to illumine and burn within our souls, in order to raise us thither—even to the realms of the Spirit.’

For this tree, too, has, so to speak, sprouted forth from the depths of darkness, and only such persons might be inclined to cavil at so unhistorical a view, who are unaware that the thing which external physical knowledge does not recognise has nevertheless its deep spiritual foundations. To the physical eye it may not be apparent how gradually this Christmas-tree grows, as it were, to be a part of the outward life of humanity. In a comparatively short time, indeed, it has come to be a custom that brings happiness to man, one which has come to affect the world’s intercourse in general. This, as I have said, may pass unrecognised, yet those who know that external events are but impressions of a spiritual process, are bound to feel that there may possibly have been some very deep meaning at work, responsible for the appearance of the Christmas-tree upon the external physical plane; that its appearance has emanated from out the depths of some great spiritual impulse—an impulse leading men invisibly onward—that indeed this lighted tree may have been the means of sending to some specially sensitive souls that inspiration of the inward light whereof it furnishes so beautiful an external symbol. And when such cognition awakens to wisdom, then indeed does this tree—by reason of our will—also become an external symbol for that which is Divine.

If Anthroposophy is to be knowledge, then it must be knowledge in an active sense and permeated with wisdom—that is to say, it must ‘gild’—external customs and impressions. And so even as Anthroposophy warms and illumines the hearts and souls of men, present and future, so too must the Christmas-tree which has become so ‘material’ a custom recover its ‘golden glint,’ and in the light of this true knowledge rise once more to illustrate its true symbolical meaning in life, after having spent so long a time amid the darkened depths of men’s souls in these latter days.

And if we delve down even a little further and presuppose a deep spiritual guidance to have placed this impulse within the human heart, does this not also prove that thoughts bestowed upon man by the aid of the Spirit can attain to even greater depths of feeling when brought into connection with this luminant tree?

It used to be ancient custom common in many parts of Europe to go t into the woods some time before Christmas and collect sprigs from all kinds of plants, but more especially from foliage trees, and then seek to make these twigs bear leaf in time for Christmas Eve. And to many a soul the dim belief in ‘Life unconquerable’—in that life which shall be the vanquisher of all death—would thrill exultantly at the sight of all this sprouting greenery, branches artificially forced to unfold their tender leaves over-night at a time of year when the sun stands at its lowest. This was a very old custom—our Christmas-tree is of far more recent date. Where, then, have we in the first place to look for this custom?

We know how earnest was the language used by the great German mystics, more especially the impression created by the words of Johannes Tauler, who laboured so assiduously in Alsace; and anyone who allows the sermons of Johannes Tauler to ‘work upon him’ with the sincerity so peculiar to them will understand how at that time—a time when Tauler was more especially concerned in deepening the feeling of men for all that lay hidden within the Christian Belief—a peculiar, unique spirit must have prevailed, a spirit which of a truth was suffused with the Mystery of Golgotha. In those days when Johannes Tauler was preaching his sermons in Strasbourg, the passionate sincerity with which he delivered his ‘words of fire’ may well have sunk into the soul of many a listener, leaving there a lasting impression, and many such impressions may well have been caused by what Tauler was wont to say in his wondrously beautiful Christmas sermons. ‘Three times,’ said Tauler, ‘is God born unto men: Firstly, when He descends from the Father—from the Great All-World; again, when having reached humanity He descends into flesh; and thirdly, when the Christ is born within the human soul, and enables it to attain to the possibility of uniting itself to that which is the Wisdom of God—enabling it thus to give birth to the higher man.’

At all such seasons when the gracious habit of celebrating the Festivals prevailed, Johannes Tauler might be found round about the neighbourhood of Strasbourg dwelling earnestly upon the meaning of these deep verities, and more especially did he do this at the Christmas season. Indeed the words sinking at such times into receptive souls may have echoed on—for feelings, too, have their traditions—and what was felt within some soul’s depths in the hush of such an hour may—who knows?—still stir responsive chords from one century to the other. And so the feeling once possessing souls passed to the eye, and gave to this a capability of perceiving in that external symbol the resurrection—the birth of man’s spiritual light.

Taken from the point of view of material thought the coincidence may be deemed a pretty one: but for those who know the manner in which spiritual guidance permeates all that is physical it becomes far more than a coincidence to learn that the first record of a Christmas-tree having stood in a German room comes from Alsace, and indeed from Strasbourg in Alsace, while the date may be given as 1642.

How ill German Mysticism has fared at the hands of a Christianity wedded to outward forms may be seen in what happened to the memory of Master Eckhard, the great forerunner of Johannes Tauler, since posterity branded him a heretic after death—having omitted to do so while he lived!

Nor did the burning words of Johannes Tauler, words which flamed up from a heart fired with Christian passion, meet with much response; the outward Christianity of the times lacked the spiritual depth of the teachings proclaimed by these men, and this may fully account for the fact that in recording the news of this first Christmas-tree the ‘eye-witness’ alludes to it as ‘child’s play,’ and observes that ‘people would do better by going to places where the right Christian teachings could be proclaimed to them.’

The further progress of the Christmas-tree was a slow one. We see it figuring here and there about Middle Germany during the eighteenth century, but not till the nineteenth century did it become practically a regular ‘spiritual’ decoration intimately associated with the Christmas season—a new symbol of something that had survived throughout the centuries of time.

In such hearts, therefore, where the glory of all things can be truly felt—not in the sense implied by a Christianity ‘made up of words,’ but by the force of a true, a spiritual Christianity—sentiments of the highest human kind were ever prone to kindle in the tree’s illumined presence.

Another reason for placing the advent of the Christmas-tree at so recent a date may be seen in the fact that Germany’s greatest poets had left it unsung: had it been known in earlier times we may be sure that Klopstock, to mention only one, would have chosen this symbol for poetic treatment. And we may, therefore, gather additional certainty from this omission to strengthen our statement as to its being a comparative innovation.

More especially might we then dwell upon this symbol when the feeling of the spiritual truth of the awakening Ego wells up within our souls—that Ego which senses the spiritual bond ’twixt soul and soul, feeling it with intensified strength where noble human beings are striving in a common cause. And I will but mention one instance of how the fight of the Christmas-tree has streamed in to illumine the soul of one of humanity’s great leaders.

It was in the year 1821 that Goethe (whom we so often meet wherever we regard the life of the spirit in the light of Anthroposophy) was bringing his Faust to its close, and in so doing he came to find how essential the Christian symbols were in order to present his poetic intentions—that, in fact, they became the only possible ones. Goethe, indeed, experienced at this time most intensely the way in which Christianity weaves the noblest bond for joining soul to soul; and how this bond has to lay the foundations of a brotherly love not dependent upon the tie of blood, but on that of souls united in the spirit. And when we dwell on the close of the Gospels we are able to feel the impulse yet dormant within Christianity.

Gazing downward from the Cross upon Golgotha, Christ beholds the mother—beholds the son; and in that moment did He found that community which hitherto had only existed through the blood.

Up to that time no mother had had a son, no son a mother, without the tie being that of blood relationship. Nor were blood ties to be eliminated by Christianity; but to these were to be added spiritual ties, diffusing with their spiritual light those ties created by the blood.

It was to these ends, then, that Christ Jesus on the Cross spoke the words: ‘Woman! behold thy son!’, and to the disciple: ‘Behold thy mother!’ What had been instituted as a blood-tie became through the mediation of the Cross a bond of the spirit.

Wherever Goethe perceived a noble effort in furtherance of this spiritual union being made, he was moved to turn towards the true Christian spirit, and what possessed the heart soon yearned for outward expression. The year 1821 gave him a special opportunity for giving utterance to this desire. The residents of the little Duchy of Saxe-Weimar, to the interests of which Goethe dedicated so great a measure of his powers, had united forces in order to found a ‘Bürger-schule’. The undertaking was, in fact, to be a ‘gift,’ as it were, to the Grand Duke of Saxe-Weimar, and Goethe, desirous of celebrating in some suitable manner the spiritual impulse that had led to so progressive a step, called upon various members to give poetic expression to thoughts respecting this undertaking they all had at heart. These verses Goethe then collected in a volume for which he himself wrote an introductory poem which was recited by Prince (later Grand Duke) Karl Alexander, then three years old, who presented the book to his father, Grand Duke Karl August—this little ceremony taking place beneath the Christmas-tree. So we see that the tree was, by the year 1821, already a customary symbol of the season and by this act did Goethe indicate the Christmas-tree as being the symbol of a feeling and sentiment for spiritual progress in things both great and small. His introductory poem written for this little volume is still preserved in the Weimar Library and runs as follows:

‘Bäume leuchtend, Bäume blendend,
Uberall das Süsse spendend,
In dem Glanze sich bewegend,
Alt—und junges Herz erregend—
Solch ein Fest ist uns bescheret,
Mancher Gaben Schmuck verehret;
Staunend schaun wir auf und nieder,
Hin und her und immer wieder.
Aber, Furst, wenn dir’s begegnet,
Und ein Abend so dich segnet,
Dass als Lichter, dass als Flammen
Vor dir glänzten allzusammen
Alles, was du ausgerichtet,
Alle, die sich dir verpflichtet:
Mit erhöhten Geistesblicken
Fühltest herrliches Entzücken.’1 The first verse is descriptive of the earthly joys—the union, of friends and the gifts interchanged at Christmas; while the second hints at the spiritual significance of the ceremony, the flames of light giving rise to feelings and sentiments which respond to Higher Planes.—Translator's Note.

The above verses of Goethe are the first of what we might call Christmas poems, and when in connection with Anthroposophy we speak of ‘symbols’ we may well say that such symbols, which in the course of time surge up involuntarily within men’s souls, are indeed gilded over with the gold of wisdom.

We have seen that the first Christian Christmas was celebrated during the fourth century in Rome. It would seem, furthermore, a matter of divine dispensation that this Feast of Christ’s Birth has—as far as Middle and Northern Europe are concerned—been introduced at the very time when a most ancient feast—that of the Winter Sun, when the shortest days are chronicled—was also wont to be celebrated.

Now it must not be imagined that this change of the old time-honoured Festival into the new Feast, the Christmas Festival, was brought about in order, as it were, to conciliate the nations. Christmas was born purely and simply out of Christianity, and we may say that the way in which it became accepted by the more Northern lands was a proof of the deeply spiritual relationship connecting these peoples as well as their symbols with Christianity.

In Armenia, for instance, the Christmas Festival has never become customary, and even in Palestine the Christians were for a long time averse to its celebration, and yet it soon found a home in Europe.

And now we will try to understand in the right way the Christmas Feast itself when taken from the anthroposophical view—doing so in order that we may also be enabled to apprehend the Christmas-tree in its symbolic sense.

When, during the course of the year, we meet together, we allow those words—which should not be mere words, but rather forces—to permeate our soul in order that the soul may become a citizen of eternity. Throughout the year do we thus assemble allowing these words—this Logos—to sound upon our ears in the most varied manner, telling us that Christ is with us always, and that when we are thus assembled together the Spirit of Christ works in upon us, so that our words become impregnated with the Spirit of Christ. If only we enunciate these things being conscious that the word becomes a ‘carrier on wings,’ bearing revelations to humanity, then indeed do we let that flow in upon our souls which is the Word of the Spirit. Yet we know that the Word of the Spirit cannot entirely be taken up by us—cannot become all it should be to us if we have only received it as an outward and abstract form of knowledge. We know that it can only become to us that which it should be if it gives rise to that inner warmth through which the soul becomes expanded—through which it senses itself as gushing forth amid all the phenomena of world-existence—in which it feels itself one with the Spirit—that Spirit which itself permeates all that is outwardly apparent.

Let us, therefore, feel the Word of the Spirit must become to us a power—a life-force—so that when the season is at hand at which we place that symbol before us, it may proclaim to our souls: ‘Let a new thing be born within you. Let that which giving warmth can spread the Light—even the Word—rising from those spiritual sources, those spiritual depths—be born within you—born as Spirit-Man!’

Then shall we feel what is the meaning of that which passes over to us as the Word of the Spirit. Let us earnestly feel, at such a moment as the present, what Anthroposophy gives to us as warmth, as light for the soul, and let us try to feel it somewhat in.the following manner:

Look at the material world of to-day with all its perpetual activity, consider the way in which men hurry and worry from morning till evening, and the way in which they judge everything from the materialistic standpoint, according to the measure laid down by this outward physical plane—how utterly oblivious they are that behind all there lives and works the Spirit. At night people sink to sleep oblivious of aught else than that ‘unconsciousness’ enwraps them, and in the morning they similarly return to a sense of the consciousness of this physical plane. Thoughtlessly, ignorantly, man sinks to sleep after all his labours and worries of the day—never even seeking enlightenment as to the meaning of life.

When the anthroposophist has become imbued with the Words of the Spirit he knows that which is no mere theory or dogma: he then knows what can give warmth as well as light to his soul. He knows that were he day by day to take up naught but the presentments of the physical life, he would inevitably wither—his life would be empty and void. All he came by would die away were he to have no other presentments than such as the physical plane is able to place before him. For when of an evening you lie down to sleep you pass over to a world of the Spirit—the forces of your soul rise to a world of higher spiritual entities, to whose level you must gradually raise your own being. And when of a morning you wake again, you do so newly strengthened from out that spiritual world, and thus do you shed spiritual life over all that approaches you upon this physical plane, be it done consciously or unconsciously. From the Eternal do you yourself rejuvenate your temporal existence each morning.

What we should do is to change into feeling this Word of the Spirit, so that we may when evening comes be able to say: ‘I shall not merely pass over to unconsciousness, but I shall dip into a world where dwell the beings of eternity—entities whom my own entity is to resemble. I therefore fall asleep with the feeling, ‘Away to the Spirit!’, and I awaken with the feeling, ‘Back—from the Spirit!’ In doing this we become permeated with that feeling into which the Word of the Spirit is to transform itself, that Word which from day to day, from week to week, has been taken up by us here. Let us feel ourselves connected with the Spirit of the Universe—let us feel that we are missionaries of the World-Spirit which permeates and interweaves all outward existence—for then we also feel when the sun stands high in summer and directs its life-giving rays earthward that then too is the Spirit active, manifesting itself in an outward manner, and how—in that we then perceive His external mien, His outward countenance, mirrored by the external rays of the sun—His inner Being may be said to have retired beyond these outer phenomena.

Where do we behold this Spirit of the Universe—this Spirit whom Zoroaster already proclaimed—when only the outward and physical rays of the sun stream in upon us? We behold this Spirit when we are able to recognise where it is He beholds Himself. Verily does this Spirit of the Universe create during summer-time those organs through which He may behold Himself. He creates external sense organs! Let us learn to understand what it is that from Springtime forward decks the earth with its carpet of verdant plants giving to it a renewed countenance. What is it? ’Tis a mirror for the World-Spirit of the sun! For when the sun pours forth its rays upon us, it is the World-Spirit Who is gazing down on earth. All plant-life—bud, blossom and leaf—are but images which present the pure World-Spirit, reflected in His works as they shoot forth upon this earth:—this carpet of plants contains the sense-organs of the World-Spirit.

When in the autumn the external power of the sun declines, we see how this plant life disappears—how the countenance of the World-Spirit is withdrawn—and if we have been prepared in the right manner we may then feel how the Spirit which pulsates throughout the universe is now within ourselves. So that we can follow the World-Spirit even when He is withdrawn from external sight, for we then feel that though our gaze no longer rests upon that verdant cover, yet has the Spirit been roused in us to so great a measure that He withdraws Himself from the external presentments of the world. And so the awakening Spirit becomes our guide to those depths whither Spirit life retires and to where we deliver over to the keeping of the Spirit germs for the coming Spring. There do we learn to see with our spiritual sight, learning to say to ourselves:

‘When external life begins gradually to become invisible for the external senses, when the melancholy of Autumn creeps in upon our soul, then does the soul follow the Spirit—even amid the lifeless stones, in order that it may draw thence those forces which in the Spring will once more furnish new sense organs for the Spirit of the World.’

It is thus that those who having in their spirit conceived the Spirit come to feel that they too can follow this World-Spirit down to where the grains of seed repose in winter-time.

When the power of the sun is weakest and when its rays are at their faintest—when outer darkness is at its strongest—it is then that the Spirit within us united to the Spirit of the Universe feels and proclaims that union in greatest clearness, by filling the grains of seed with a new life. In this way we may indeed say quite literally that by the power of the seed we also live within and permeate—as it were—the Earth. In Summer-time we turn to the bright atmosphere about us, to the budding fruits of the earth, but now we turn to the lifeless stones, yet knowing that beneath them reposes that which shall in its turn again enjoy external life, and our soul follows in the spirit those budding germinating forces which, withdrawing themselves from outward view, lie dormant amid the stones in Winter-time.

And when Winter-time has reached its central point—when the darkness is deepest—then is the time at hand when we may feel that the exterior world is nevertheless not capable of counteracting our union with the Spirit—when within those depths to which we have withdrawn we feel the flashes of the Spirit-light—that light of the Spirit for which the greatest Impulse received by humanity was given by Christ Jesus. In this way we are enabled to sense what the Ancients felt when they spoke of descending to where the grain of seed lay dormant in Winter-time in order that they might learn to know the hidden powers of the Spirit.

We then come to feel that Christ has to be sought for amid that which is hidden—there where all is dark and obscure, unless we ourselves kindle the light in the Soul—that Soul which becomes clear and illumined when penetrated by the Light of Christ. At Christmas-tide, therefore, we may well feel an ever-increasing sense of strength—strength due to that Impulse which, grace to the Mystery enacted on Golgotha, has permeated the human race. If truly experienced in this way the Christ Impulse becomes for us indeed the most powerful incentive, strengthening year by year this life which is leading us into the Spiritual Worlds where death—as known in the physical world—does not exist.

It is in this way that we are enabled to spiritualise a symbol which to present-day materialistic-thinking persons is no more than a token of material joy and pleasure, and we thus may also feel within our hearts what Johannes Tauler really meant when he spoke of Christ having to be born three times: once as God the Father Who permeates the world—once as Man, at the time when Christianity was founded—and since then again and again, within the souls of those who can awaken the Word of the Spirit within their innermost being. For without this last birth Christianity would not be complete, nor would Anthroposophy be capable of grasping the Christian Spirit did it not understand that the Word brought home to us year after year is not intended to remain theory and dogma, but is to become both Light and Life—a force, indeed, by which we may contribute spirituality to life in this world as well as gather spirituality for ourselves—and so be one with the other—incorporated with the Spirit for all Eternity.

No matter the step of evolution upon which we stand—we can nevertheless feel what was felt at all times by those who had been initiated and who therefore really did in this Holy Night descend at the midnight hour to gaze upon the spiritual Sun in the darkness of the Christmas Night—when that spiritual Sun could call forth from apparently dead surroundings and waken into life all budding nature, bidding it burst forth and proclaim a new Springtide.

This is the Christ Sun we should feel behind the physical sun: to it we ourselves must rise—rise to experience and see that which, by grace of those new forces man may develop, shall unite him with the Spirit—then shall it also be for us to

See the Sun
About the midnight hour,
And build with stones
Amid the lifeless clay,
Finding that as we pass
To the dark night of Death
Creations new come forth—
Young morns arise to power—
The heights above reveal
The Gods’ eternal Word,
And depths below shall guard
The peaceful Place of Rest.

Dwelling in Darkness,
Oh! create a Sun!
And while ye weave the web,
Oh I recognise
The blissfulness of Spirit.

Der Weihnachtsbaum — Ein Symbolum

An diesem Tage, der uns das Fest der Weihnacht darstellen soll, ist es wohl angemessen, ein wenig unsere sonstigen Gepflogenheiten dahin zu ändern, daß wir absehen von dem Suchen nach Erkenntnis und nach Wahrheit und statt dessen Einkehr halten in jene Gefühls- und Empfindungswelt, welche auferweckt werden soll durch jenes Licht, das wir aus der Geisteswissenschaft heraus erhalten.

Jenes Fest, das nun wieder herannaht und das unzähligen Menschen ein Fest der Beseligung im schönsten Sinne des Wortes ist, es ist in dem Sinne, wie es aufgefaßt werden muß durch unsere anthroposophische Weltanschauung, noch nicht ein sehr altes Fest. Was man die christliche Weihnacht nennt, war nicht sogleich da, als das Christentum in die Welt eingezogen ist. Die ersten Christen hatten ein solches Weihnachtsfest noch nicht. Sie feierten nicht die Geburt des Christus Jesus. Und es vergingen fast drei Jahrhunderte, bevor das Geburtsfest des Christus Jesus innerhalb der Christenheit gefeiert worden ist.

In den ersten Jahrhunderten, als das Christentum sich durch die Welt verbreitete, da war es entsprechend den Empfindungen und Gefühlen in den Seelen derer, welche den Christus-Impuls gefühlt hatten, daß sich diese Menschen recht sehr zurückzogen von dem in der damaligen Zeit statthabenden äußeren Leben, wie es sich seit alten Zeiten heraufverpflanzt hatte und wie es zur Zeit des ChristusImpulses geworden war. Denn als eine dunkle Ahnung stieg es in den Seelen der ersten Christen auf, daß sie entstehen lassen sollten den Impuls zu einer Neugestaltung der Erdendinge, zu einer solchen Gestaltung der Erdendinge, welche durchzogen ist gegenüber dem Früheren von neuen Empfindungen, neuen Gefühlen, vor allem aber von einer neuen Hoffnung und einer neuen Zuversicht für die Menschheitsentwickelung. Und was dann heraustreten sollte auf den Horizont des großen Weltendaseins, das sollte seinen Ausgangspunkt nehmen wie ein geistiger Keim - wir können sagen «buchstäblich» — im Innern der Erde.

Wir haben uns ja schon öfter im Geiste versetzt in die römischen Katakomben, wo abgeschlossen von dem damaligen Leben die ersten Christen feierten die Feier ihrer Herzen und die Feier ihrer Seelen. Wir haben uns im Geiste hineinversetzt in diese Andachtsstätten. Da wurden zuerst nicht Geburtsfeste gefeiert; höchstens waren es die Sonntagsfeste jeder Woche, um jede Woche einmal zu gedenken des großen Ereignisses von Golgatha. Und außerdem wurden noch gefeiert in den ersten Jahrhunderten die Totenfeiern derjenigen, die mit besonderer Begeisterung, mit tiefem Gefühl von diesem Ereignis von Golgatha gesprochen hatten, und die in bedeutungsvoller Weise eingegriffen hatten in den Gang der Menschheitsentwickelung, so daß sie verfolgt wurden von der altgewordenen Welt. Die Todestage der Märtyrer, da diese Märtyrer eingezogen waren in das Geistesleben, wurden in den ersten Jahrhunderten als die Geburtstage der Menschheit von den ersten Christen gefeiert.

Damals gab es auch noch kein Christgeburtstagsfest. Aber gerade die Entstehung dieses Christgeburtstagsfestes kann uns zeigen, wie wir auch heute noch ein volles Recht haben, zu sagen: Das Christentum ist nicht mit diesem oder jenem Dogma, mit dieser oder jener Einrichtung einmal da, und diese Einrichtungen und diese Dogmen haben sich nur fortzupflanzen von Geschlecht zu Geschlecht -, sondern wir haben ein Recht, uns zu berufen auf Christi Ausspruch, daß er bei uns ist, daß er uns mit seinem Geiste erfüllt alle Tage. Wenn wir diesen Geist bei uns erfüllt fühlen, so dürfen wir uns berufen halten zu einer stetigen und nimmer aufhörenden Fortentwickelung des christlichen Geistes. Und gerade durch die anthroposophische Geistesentwickelung sind wir berufen, nicht ein totes, starres Christentum fortzupflanzen, sondern ein immer neues Christentum, das immer neue Weistümer und Erkenntnisse hervortreibt aus sich selber, in die Zukunft hinein zu entwickeln. Niemals sprechen wir von dem gewesenen Christus, sondern immer von dem ewig lebendigen Christus. Und wir dürfen uns an den ewig lebendigen, den ewig wirksamen Christus, an den in uns arbeitenden Christus insbesondere dann erinnern, da wir sprechen von dem Geburtsfest des Christus Jesus. Schon in den ersten Jahrhunderten fühlten es die Christen, daß sie durften Neues einprägen dem Organismus der christlichen Entwickelung, daß sie hinzufügen durften dasjenige, was ihnen aus dem Geiste Christi wirklich zuströmt.

So ist denn das Weihnachtsfest erst eine Einrichtung des 4. christlichen Jahrhunderts. Wir können sagen, im Jahre 354 wurde in Rom die erste christliche Weihnacht gefeiert. Und es zeigt sich uns insbesondere, daß in einer weniger kritischen Zeit als die unsrige es ist, die Bekenner des Christentums durchdrungen waren von der richtig ahnenden Erkenntnis, daß sie dem großen christlichen Lebensbaum immer neue Früchte entlocken sollten. Deshalb dürfen wir vielleicht dabei auch gedenken eines äußeren Symbols der Weihnacht, des Symbols des Weihnachtsbaumes, das wir hier vor uns haben, das unzählige Menschen in den nächsten Tagen vor sich haben werden und welches die Geisteswissenschaft berufen ist, immer tiefer und tiefer in seiner besonderen Bedeutung den Herzen und Seelen der Menschen einzuprägen.

Wir könnten fast mit der Zeitentwickelung in Widerspruch kommen, wenn wir uns gerade an dieses Symbolum hielten. Es wäre ein Irrtum, zu glauben, daß dieses Symbolum ein altes sei. Es könnte ja leicht in der Seele des heutigen Menschen der Glaube entstehen, der poetische Tannenbaum in der Weihnacht sei eine uralte Einrichtung. Es gibt ein Bild, welches darstellt den Weihnachtsbaum in der Familienstube Luthers. Dieses Bild, das natürlich erst im 19. Jahrhundert gemalt worden ist, stellt etwas durchaus Falsches dar, denn im weiten Umkreis der deutschen Lande wie auch in den andern Gegenden Europas gab es einen solchen Weihnachtsbaum zu Luthers Zeit noch nicht. Er ist erst ein späteres Symbolum. Gerade dieser Weihnachtsbaum zeigt uns vielleicht etwas ganz Merkwürdiges. Können wir nicht vielleicht auch so sagen, daß der Weihnachtsbaum heute etwas ist, was in dem Sinne als zukunftverheißend aufgefaßt werden könnte, daß die Menschen immer mehr in diesem Weihnachtsbaum sehen könnten, vielleicht nach und nach sehen könnten ein Sinnbild für etwas außerordentlich Bedeutungsvolles und Wichtiges?

Da dürfen wir die Blicke auf diesen Weihnachtsbaum richten, wenn wir uns keiner Illusion in bezug auf sein historisches Alter hingeben und dürfen uns dabei in gewisser Weise in Erinnerung rufen, was uns schon öfter vor die Seele getreten ist, die sogenannte Heilige Legende. Sie erzählt uns: Als Adam aus dem Paradiese vertrieben worden war — die Legende erzählt es in der mannigfaltigsten Weise, wir wollen es jetzt nur so kurz als möglich wiedergeben -, da habe er mitgenommen drei Samenkörner von dem Baume des Lebens, wovon die Menschen nicht essen sollten, nachdem sie von dem Baume der Erkenntnis des Guten und Bösen gegessen hatten. Als Adam dann gestorben war, nahm Seth diese drei Samenkörner und senkte sie in Adams Grab, und daraus wuchs aus dem Grabe Adams heraus ein Baum. Aus dem Holze dieses Baumes - so erzählt die Legende - ist mancherlei gebildet worden: Moses habe aus diesem Holze seinen Stab gebildet, und später sei aus diesem Baume auch das Holz genommen worden zu dem Kreuze von Golgatha.

So erinnert uns eine Legende in bedeutsamer Weise an jenen Paradiesesbaum, der als der zweite dastand: Die Menschen hatten genossen von dem Baume der Erkenntnis, entzogen wurde ihnen der Genuß vom Baume des Lebens. Aber es blieb in den Herzen der Menschen immerdar eine Sehnsucht, ein Trieb nach jenem Baum. Hinausgetrieben aus den geistigen Welten, die mit dem «Paradiese» bezeichnet werden, in die äußere Erscheinungswelt, fühlten die Menschen in ihren Herzen den Trieb hin zu dem Baume des Lebens. Was sie nicht haben durften ohne ihr Verdienst, ohne ihre Entwickelung, das sollten sie sich dadurch erringen, daß sie sich nach und nach mit Hilfe der Erkenntnis Verdienste erwarben, daß sie nach und nach durch ihre Arbeit auf dem physischen Plan sich reif und fähig machten, die Früchte des Baumes des Lebens zu empfangen.

Jene drei Samenkörner repräsentieren uns die Sehnsucht nach den Früchten des Baumes des Lebens. Die Legende erzählt uns, daß in dem Holze des Kreuzes dasjenige enthalten war, was aus dem Baume des Lebens stammte. Und man hat ein Bewußtsein dafür gehabt durch die ganze Entwickelung hindurch, daß das dürre Kreuzesholz dennoch den Keim des neuen geistigen Lebens enthält, daß daraus hervorwachsen soll dasjenige, was die Menschen, wenn sie es in der richtigen Weise genießen, mit ihrer Seele vereinigen können als die Frucht vom Baum des Lebens, als die Frucht, die ihnen Unsterblichkeit gibt im wahren Sinne des Wortes, die ihnen das Licht der Seele anzündet und die Seele so erleuchtet, daß sie den Weg findet aus den dunklen Tiefen der physischen Welt in die lichten Höhen des geistigen Daseins und sich dort fühlt als Angehörige eines unsterblichen Lebens.

Ohne daß wir uns einer Illusion hingeben, dürfen wir - wenn auch nicht als Historiker, so doch als fühlende Menschen - in dem Baume, der als Weihnachtsbaum vor uns steht, etwas fühlen wie ein Symbolum jenes Lichtes, das im Inneren unserer Seele aufgehen soll, damit es uns die Unsterblichkeit im geistigen Dasein erwerbe. Wir blicken in unser Inneres, und wir fühlen uns durch die anthroposophische Geistesströmung durchdrungen von jener Kraft, die uns in die geistige Welt hinaufblicken läßt. Wir sehen dann auf jenes äußere Symbolum, das wir als den Weihnachtsbaum vor uns stehen haben, und dürfen uns sagen: Er sei uns ein Symbolum für das, was in unseren Seelen leuchten und brennen soll, um uns hinaufzutragen in die geistige Welt!

Dieser Baum ist sozusagen auch entsprossen wie aus dunklen Tiefen. Nur jene Menschen mögen eine solche unhistorische Anschauungsweise tadeln, wie sie eben gekennzeichnet worden ist, die nicht wissen, daß dasjenige, dessen äußere Gründe physisches Erkennen nicht einsieht, dennoch seine tieferen geistigen Gründe hat. Dem äußeren Auge mag es sich entziehen, wie dieser Weihnachtsbaum sich merkwürdig hineinschleicht in das äußere menschliche Leben. Er hat sich in verhältnismäßig kurzer Zeit als ein beseligender Brauch eingeführt in den allgemeinen Weltenverkehr. Äußerlich mag es sich dem Auge entziehen; aber wer da weiß, daß alle äußeren Ereignisse Abdrücke eines geistigen Werdeganges sind, der muß fühlen, daß auch vielleicht ein besonderer tieferer Grund im äußeren physischen Plan vorlag für das Auftreten des Weihnachtsbaumes: daß das Auftreten des Weihnachtsbaumes herausgekommen ist wie aus einem tiefen geistigen Impuls, der unsichtbar die Menschen führt und vielleicht sogar unfühlbar einzelnen recht empfindenden Seelen die Inspiration eingegeben hat, das innere Licht, das in der Welt leuchten soll, in dem wunderschönen Weihnachtsbaum zum äußeren Ausdruck zu bringen. Und wenn ein solches Wissen zur Weisheit erwacht, dann kann dieser Baum durch unseren Willen ein äußeres Symbolum auch für das Höchste werden.

Soll Anthroposophie Weisheit sein, so darf sie tätige Weisheit sein und weisheitsvoll durchdringen, das heißt, vergolden die äußeren Eindrücke und Gebräuche. So darf vielleicht Anthroposophie, indem sie nach und nach erwärmend und erleuchtend sich ausbreitet über die Herzen und Seelen der Menschen der Gegenwart und der Zukunft, auch den so materialistisch gewordenen äußerlichen Gebrauch des Weihnachtsbaumes vergolden, mit ihrer Weisheit durchdringen, und mag ihn zu einem wichtigsten Symbolum machen, nachdem er wie aus dunklen Untergründen der Seele im Laufe der allerletzten Zeiten in das Erdenleben seinen Einzug gehalten hat. Und wenn wir dennoch vielleicht etwas tiefer schürfen und voraussetzen, daß eine tiefere geistige Leitung die Impulse gelegt hat in die menschlichen Herzen, erweist es sich uns auch nicht ganz ohne Grund, wenn die Menschen die Gedanken, die ihnen von einer geistigen Leitung eingegeben sind, ausleben in tieferen Empfindungen an dem brennenden Baum.

Es ist ja ein alter Gebrauch auch schon in den verschiedensten Ländern Europas gewesen, daß man die ganzen Wochen vor dem Weihnachtsfest gesucht hat nach allerlei Baumsprossen, nach allerlei Sträuchern, die meistens Laubpflanzen entnommen waren, welche in der Christnacht zum Aufbrechen oder wenigstens zum Sprossentreiben gebracht werden konnten. Und in gar mancher Seele entstand etwas von der Ahnung des niemals besiegbaren Lebens, jenes Lebens, das Sieger sein soll über allen Tod, wenn in der Christweihnacht die sorgfältig gesammelten Sprossen oder Zweige der Bäume in der Stube feierlich standen und künstlich in der Nacht des tiefsten Sonnenstandes zum Aufbrechen gebracht worden sind. Das war ein alter Gebrauch. Aber der Weihnachtsbaum selber ist jüngeren Datums. Wo haben wir den Gebrauch des Weihnachtsbaumes zuerst zu suchen?

Wir wissen von der eindringlichen Sprache, die unsere großen deutschen Mystiker geführt haben, insbesondere von Johannes Tauler, der im Elsaß gewirkt hat. Wer die Predigten Johannes Taulers mit ihrer tiefen Innerlichkeit, mit ihrem unendlichen Gefühlswert auf sich wirken läßt, der wird sich sagen, daß dazumal im Elsaß, als Tauler die Vertiefung und Vergeistigung, sogar die Verherzlichung des Christentumes anstrebte, ein ganz besonderer Geist umging, der überall die Seele suchte, die erfüllt war von dem Mysterium von Golgatha. Als Tauler seine Predigten zu Straßburg gehalten hat, da haben sich seine eindringlichen Feuerworte tief in die Seelen hinein versenkt, und mancher bleibende Eindruck mag manchmal in den Seelen der Menschen ersprossen sein. Mancher Eindruck mag von dem gekommen sein, was Johannes Tauler auch oft in seinen wunderschönen Weihnachtspredigten gesagt hat. Dreimal, so sagte er, wird der Gott für die Menschen geboren: zuerst, indem er abstammt von dem Vater, von dem großen Weltenall; dann, indem er zu den Menschen heruntergedrungen ist und menschliche Hüllen angenommen hat, und zum drittenmal wird der Christus in jeder menschlichen Seele geboren, die in sich selber die Möglichkeit findet, dasjenige, was Gottesweisheit ist, mit sich zu vereinigen und in sich einen höheren Menschen zu gebären.

In allen möglichen schönen, feierlichen Wendungen sprach Johannes Tauler gerade in der Gegend von Straßburg die tiefste Weisheit aus, insbesondere am Weihnachtstage. Gerade eine solche tiefe Weisheit mag sich in die Seelen gesenkt haben, und sie mag geblieben sein und nachgewirkt haben. Auch die Gefühle haben ihre Traditionen. Von Jahrhundert zu Jahrhundert mag nachgewirkt haben, was dazumal in die Seelen gesenkt worden ist. So mag das Gefühl, das sich dazumal in die Menschenseelen gesenkt hat, es mag wie alle wirklichen, vom Geist durchdrungenen Gefühle sich gedrängt haben in Auge und Hand, mag dem Auge das Gefühl eingegeben haben, auch im äußeren Sinnbild zu schauen die Auferstehung, die Geburt des menschlichen Geisteslichtes. Deshalb ist es vielleicht für das materialistische Denken ein schöner Zufall, aber für den, der weiß, wie die geistige Führung durch alles Physische durchgeht, ist es mehr als ein bloßer Zufall, wenn wir hören, daß die ersten Nachrichten von einem Weihnachtsbaum, der in einer deutschen Stube gestanden habe, aus dem Elsaß stammen, und zwar aus Straßburg. 1642 haben wir die allererste Nachricht darüber, daß ein solcher Weihnachtsbaum in einem Hause gestanden habe zur inneren Beseligung derer, die an einem äußeren Sinnbild sehen wollten das Licht, das in uns selber erweckt werden soll durch die Aufnahme der geistigen Weisheit.

Wie die deutsche Mystik von jenem Christentum, das an den äußeren Formen klebt, schlimm aufgenommen ist, das sehen wir zum Beispiel an Meister Eckhart, dem großen Vorgänger Johannes Taulers: er wurde noch nach dem Tode zum Ketzer erklärt, nachdem man vergessen hatte, es bei seinen Lebzeiten zu tun. Und die Feuerworte Johannes Taulers, die aus einem wirklichen christerfüllten Herzen hervorgegangen sind, fanden auch wenig Anerkennung. Wie jenes äußere Christentum, das nicht an den wirklichen Geist glaubt, zu der Vertiefung des Christentums durch Meister Eckhart, Johannes Tauler und so weiter sich gestellt hat, das sehen wir daraus, daß uns die erste Nachricht vom Weihnachtsbaum verkündet wird von einem geistigen Gegner. Der Betreffende meinte, das wäre ein Kinderspiel; die Leute sollten lieber dahin gehen, wo sie hörten, wie ihnen die richtige Lehre verkündet wird.

Langsam hat sich zunächst dieser Weihnachtsbaum verbreitet. Wir sehen ihn in Mitteldeutschland auftreten um die Mitte des 18. Jahrhunderts, aber auch da nur an einzelnen Orten. Erst gegen das 19. Jahrhundert zu wird der Weihnachtsbaum dieser immer häufigere geistige Schmuck der Weihnacht, ein neueres Symbolum für etwas, was durch Jahrhunderte hindurch gelebt hat. Bei denjenigen, welche so recht fühlen konnten alle Dinge im Glanze, nicht des Wortchristentums, sondern im Glanze des echten geistigen Christentums, bei denen war es immer so, daß der Weihnachtsbaum auslösen konnte schöne menschliche Gefühle. Und Sie werden es ohne weiteres glauben, daß der Weihnachtsbaum so jungen Datums ist, wenn Sie sich vor die Seele führen, daß die größten deutschen Dichter kein Gedicht geschrieben haben über den Weihnachtsbaum. Wäre er schon früher dagewesen, so würde ein Klopstock zum Beispiel sich gewiß über dieses Symbolum haben dichterisch vernehmen lassen. Daher sei uns auch dieser Weihnachtsbaum eine Bürgschaft dafür, daß Symbole für das Höchste und das Größte neu erstehen können. Und diese Symbole können uns besonders dann vor die Seele treten, wenn wir fühlen die geistige Wahrheit von der Auferweckung des Ich in der Menschenseele, jenes Ich, das die geistigen Bande fühlt von Seele zu Seele, und sie besonders dann recht fühlt, wenn edle Menschen zusammen wirken.

Nur ein Beispiel sei erwähnt, an dem wir sehen können, wie in die Seele eines großen Menschheitsführers das Licht des Weihnachtsbaumes hineingeleuchtet hat. Im Jahre 1822 war es, daß Goethe, dem wir so oft schon da begegneten, wo wir das Geistesleben im Lichte der Anthroposophie betrachteten, beim Abschlusse seines «Faust» so recht fühlte, wie die christlichen Symbole die einzig möglichen waren, um seine poetischen Intentionen darzustellen. Und er fühlte auch so recht, wie das Christentum die edelsten Bande schlingen muß von Menschenseele zu Menschenseele, wie es jene Bande der Bruderliebe zu begründen hat, die nicht an das Blut, sondern die an die Seele gebunden sind, die an den Geist gefügt sind. Wir fühlen, was in dem Christentum noch als Impuls liegt, wenn wir an den Schluß der Evangelien denken. Vom Kreuz von Golgatha herab sieht der Christus Jesus die Mutter, sieht den Sohn, und da stiftet er jene Gemeinschaft, die vorher nur durch das Blut gestiftet worden ist. Ein Sohn wurde der Mutter, eine Mutter wurde dem Sohn vorher nur durch das Blut gegeben. Die Blutsbande sollen nicht durch das Christentum aufgehoben werden. Bleiben sollen die Blutsbande. Aber die geistigen Bande sollen hinzukommen, welche die Blutsbande überstrahlen mit geistigem Lichte. Daher sprach der Christus Jesus vom Kreuz herab die Worte: «Weib, siehe, das ist dein Sohn!», und zu dem Jünger: «Siehe, das ist deine Mutter!» Was früher nur die Blutsbande gestiftet haben, das wird vom Kreuz herab gestiftet durch geistige Bande.

Wo der Geist in edler geistiger Gemeinschaft lebt, da fühlte sich auch Goethe immerdar gedrängt, hinzublicken zum echten christlichen Geist. Für ihn war es auch ein Bedürfnis, diesen christlichen Geist vom Herzen in die Augen dringen zu lassen. 1822 hatte er einen besonderen Anlaß dazu. Die Menschen jenes Fürstentums, dem Goethe so viel seiner Kraft gewidmet hat, hatten sich zusammengetan, um eine höhere Bürgerschule zu begründen. Es war gleichsam ein Geschenk, das dem Fürsten von Weimar gemacht wurde. Goethe hat nicht besser gewußt diesen kleinen Impuls des geistigen Fortschrittes zu feiern, als daß er vor dem Weihnachtsfest eine Anzahl von Menschen aufrief, diesen Fortschritt des Geistes in einzelnen Dichtungen zu feiern, wie sie es nach ihrem Können imstande waren. Dann sammelte er diese aus dem Volke entsprungenen Dichtungen, gab ihnen selber eine poetische Vorrede, und der spätere Großherzog Karl Alexander, der damals ein dreijähriger Knabe war, mußte das Büchlein dem Fürsten Karl August unter dem Weihnachtsbaum überreichen. Denn der Weihnachtsbaum war 1822 bereits ein ständiges Symbolum.

Goethe hat mit dieser kleinen Tat angezeigt, daß ihm der Weihnachtsbaum ein Symbolum ist für das Fühlen und Empfinden des geistigen Fortschrittes im Kleinen und im Großen. Und in der poetischen Vorrede, die er diesem kleinen Büchlein gegeben hat, das heute noch in der Bibliothek zu Weimar vorhanden ist, hat Goethe den Weihnachtsbaum als dieses Symbol besungen mit den Worten:

Bäume leuchtend, Bäume blendend,
Überall das Süße spendend,
In dem Glanze sich bewegend,
Alt- und junges Herz erregend —
Solch ein Fest ist uns bescheret,
Mancher Gaben Schmuck verehret;
Staunend schaun wir auf und nieder,
Hin und her und immer wieder.

Aber, Fürst, wenn dir’s begegnet
Und ein Abend so dich segnet,
Daß als Lichter, daß als Flammen
Vor dir glänzten allzusammen
Alles, was du ausgerichtet,
Alle, die sich dir verpflichtet:
Mit erhöhten Geistesblicken
Fühltest herrliches Entzücken.

Wir dürfen dieses Gedicht unseres Goethe sozusagen mit unter die ersten Weihnachtsdichtungen zählen. Wenn wir auf dem Felde der Geisteswissenschaft von Sinnbildern reden, dürfen wir auch davon sprechen, daß Sinnbilder, die wie unbewußt oder unterbewußt heraufdringen in die Seelen der Menschen, hineintreten in den Lauf der Zeit, vergoldet, mit Weisheit umkleidet werden dürfen.

So sehen wir im 4. Jahrhundert erst die christliche Weihnacht entstehen, sehen, wie sie dazumal zuerst in Rom gefeiert wurde. Und fast wiederum wie eine Schickung muß es angesehen werden, daß in ein uraltes Fest hinein — nicht auf äußerliche materialistische Weise, sondern durch eine geheimnisvolle Schickung — das Weihnachtsfest hineingeschoben wird für die Gegenden Mittel- und Nordeuropas in eine Zeit hinein, wo seit alters her der tiefste Sonnenstand gefeiert wurde: das Wintersonnenfest. Man darf nicht glauben, daß etwa das Weihnachtsfest in Mittel- und Nordeuropa in dieses Fest, in diese Zeit verlegt worden wäre, weil man das alte Fest hätte umwandeln wollen in das Weihnachtsfest, sozusagen um die Völker zu versöhnen. Das Weihnachtsfest wurde rein herausgeboren aus dem Christentum. Gerade durch die Aufnahme des Weihnachtsfestes in den nordischen Gegenden hat sich gezeigt die tiefe geistige Verwandtschaft dieser Völker und ihrer Sinnbilder zu dem Christentum. Während zum Beispiel in Armenien das Weihnachtsfest gar nicht als Gebrauch aufgenommen wurde, und selbst in Palästina die Christen sich lange dagegen ablehnend verhalten haben, hat es sich in Europa schnell eingebürgert.

Versuchen wir, durch die anthroposophische Betrachtung das Weihnachtsfest selber richtig zu verstehen, um den Weihnachtsbaum als ein Sinnbild aufzufassen. Das Jahr hindurch, wenn wir hier zusammen sind, lassen wir aus den geistigen Quellen heraus zu uns dringen diejenigen Worte, die nicht bloß Worte, sondern Kraft sein sollen, die in unserer Seele immer mehr und mehr wirksam sein sollen, damit die Seele zu einem Bürger der Ewigkeit werden kann. Das ganze Jahr versammeln wir uns, um diese Worte, diesen Logos in der mannigfaltigsten Weise in diesem Raum ertönen zu lassen: daß der Christus immerfort bei uns ist und daß, wenn wir zusammen sind, der Geist des Christus hineinwirkt, so daß unsere Worte durchdrungen werden von dem Geiste des Christus. Wenn wir die Dinge nur aussprechen mit dem Bewußtsein, daß das Wort ein Flügelträger ist für die Offenbarungen des Geistes an die Menschheit, dann lassen wir einfließen in unsere Seele dasjenige, was das Wort des Geistes ist. Aber wir wissen, daß das Wort des Geistes nicht von uns ganz ergriffen wird, nicht uns alles sein kann, was es sein soll, wenn wir es bloß in äußerlich-abstrakter Form als Erkenntnis aufnehmen. Wir wissen, daß es erst das sein kann, was es sein soll, wenn es jene innerliche Wärme erzeugt, wodurch sich die Seele ausdehnt und fühlt, sich ausdehnt durch innere Wärme, und endlich, sich ergießend in alle Erscheinungen des Weltendaseins, sich eins fühlen lernt mit demjenigen Geiste, der über alle Erscheinungen ausgegossen ist.

Fühlen wir, daß in uns Kraft, Leben werden muß, was als Geisteswort an unser Ohr dringt, indem wir, wenn die Zeit dazu da ist, das Symbolum vor uns hinstellen, das uns bekräftigend in die Seele rufen kann: Lasse in dir erstehen als ein Neues, als den Geistesmenschen, dasjenige, was als Wärme entzünden, als Licht erleuchten kann das Wort, das aus geistigen Quellen, aus geistigen Untergründen zu uns kommt -, dann fühlen wir auch, daß es eine Bedeutung hat, was da als Geisteswort zu uns tönt. Fühlen wir in einem solchen Augenblick, wie es der heutige ist, einmal ernsthaft, was die Geisteswissenschaft an solchem Seelenlicht und solcher Seelenwärme uns geben kann! Fühlen wir es etwa in der folgenden Weise:

Schauen wir uns die heutige materialistische Welt an mit ihrem Getriebe, wie die Menschen hasten und treiben vom Morgen bis zum Abend, und wie sie alles beurteilen im Sinne des materialistischen Nutzens, nach dem Maßstabe des äußeren physischen Planes, wie sie gar nicht ahnen, daß hinter allem der Geist lebt und webt. Die Menschen schlafen des Abends ein, ahnungslos gegenüber etwas anderem, als daß sie glauben, sie seien eben ohne Bewußtsein, und daß sie morgens wiederum aufwachen in das Bewußtsein des physischen Planes hinein. Ahnungslos schläft der Mensch ein, nachdem er am Tage gehastet und gearbeitet hat, ohne sich aufzuklären über den Sinn des Lebens. Wenn der nach spiritueller Erkenntnis Strebende aufgenommen hat die Worte des Geistes, dann weiß er etwas, was nicht bloß Theorie und Lehre ist. Er weiß etwas, was ihm Seelenlicht und Seelenwärme gibt, er weiß: Würdest du am Tage nur aufnehmen die Vorstellungen des physischen Lebens, du würdest vertrocknen. Öde wäre dein ganzes Leben, ersterben würde alles, was du gewinnst, wenn du nur die Vorstellungen des physischen Planes hättest. Wenn du dich abends zum Schlummer hinlegst, gehst du hinein in eine Welt des Geistes, tauchst unter mit allen deinen Seelenkräften in eine Welt von höheren geistigen Wesenheiten, zu denen du mit deinem Sein hinaufwachsen sollst. Und indem du morgens aufwachst, kommst du neu gestärkt heraus aus einer geistigen Welt und gießest über das, was du aus dem physischen Plan empfängst, göttlich-geistiges Leben aus, ob bewußt oder unbewußt. Aus dem Ewigen verjüngst du selber das Zeitliche deines Daseins an jedem Morgen.

Wenn wir das Wort des Geistes so verwandeln in das Gefühl, das wir an jedem Abend haben können: Ich gehe nicht bloß in die Bewußtlosigkeit, sondern ich tauche ein in die Welt, wo die Wesen des Ewigen sind, denen meine eigene Wesenheit angehören soll. Ich schlafe ein mit dem Gefühl: Hinein in die geistige Welt! - und ich erwache mit dem Gefühl: Heraus aus dem Geist! - dann durchdringen wir uns mit jenem Gefühl, in das sich verwandeln soll das Wort des Geistes, das wir hier in einem der spirituellen Erkenntnis gewidmeten Leben aufgenommen haben, von Tag zu Tag, von Woche zu Woche. Dann wird der Geist in uns Leben, dann wachen wir anders auf und schlafen anders ein.

Fühlen wir uns verbunden mit dem Geiste des Weltenalls, fühlen wir uns als Missionare des Weltengeistes an jedem Morgen, fühlen wir uns nach und nach verbunden mit dem, was als Weltengeist alles äußere Sein durchsetzt und durchwebt, dann fühlen wir auch, wenn die Sonne im Sommer hochsteht und ihre lebenspendenden Strahlen der Erde zusendet, wie der Geist wirkt auf äußerliche Art und wie er, weil er uns sein Antlitz, sein äußerliches Antlitz in den äußeren Sonnenstrahlen zusendet, seine innere Wesenheit gleichsam zurücktreten läßt.

Wo sehen wir diesen Geist des Weltenalls, den schon Zarathustra in der Sonne verkündet hat, wenn uns nur die äußeren physischen Sonnenstrahlen entgegenstrahlen? Wir sehen diesen Geist des Weltenalls, wenn wir erkennen können, wo er sich selber sieht. Wahrhaftig, dieser Geist des Weltenalls schafft sich seine Sinnesorgane, durch die er sich schen kann während des Sommers. Äußere Sinnesorgane schafft er sich. Lernen wir verstehen, was als grüne Pflanzendecke vom Frühling an die Erde bedeckt, die Erde mit einem neuen Antlitz bekleidet! Was ist das? Spiegel für den Weltengeist der Sonne. Wenn die Sonne uns ihre physischen Strahlen zusendet, schaut der Weltengeist zur Erde hernieder. Was da an Pflanzenwachstum, an Blüten und Blättern herausquillt, nichts anderes ist es als die Ebenbildlichkeit des reinen, keuschen Weltengeistes, der sich selber gespiegelt sieht in seinem Werke, das er hervorsprießen läßt aus der Erde. Sinnesorgane des Weltengeistes sind enthalten in der Pflanzendecke.

Wir sehen dann, wenn die Pflanzendecke zum Herbst verschwindet, wie die äußere Kraft der Sonne sich verringert, wie das Antlitz des Weltengeistes sich zurückzieht. Sind wir vorbereitet in der rechten Weise, so fühlen wir den Geist, der durch das Weltenall pulst, in uns selber. Dann können wir jetzt dem Weltengeist auch folgen, wenn er sich dem äußeren Anblick entzieht. Dann fühlen wir, wenn unsere Augen nicht ruhen können auf der Pflanzendecke, wie der Geist in dem Maße in uns erwacht, als er sich aus den äußeren Welterscheinungen zurückzieht. Und der erwachende Geist wird uns ein Führer für die Tiefen, in die sich das Geistesleben zurückzieht, da hinein, wo wir dem Geiste übergeben die Keime für den nächsten Frühling. Da lernen wir mit unserem geistigen Blick schauen und uns sagen: Wenn das äußere Leben für die äußeren Sinne nach und nach unsichtbar wird, wenn die Herbsteswehmut in unsere Seele schleicht, folgt die Seele dem Geiste in das tote Gestein, um daraus herauszuziehen jene Kräfte, die im Frühling die Erde mit neuen Sinnesorganen für den Weltengeist bedecken.

So fühlten diejenigen Menschen, die den Geist im Geiste erfaßten, ihr Mitgehen mit dem Weltengeist, ihr Mitgehen mit dem Samenkorn hinunter im Winter. Wenn die äußere Sonne am wenigsten Kraft hat, am wenigsten leuchtet, wenn die äußere Finsternis am stärksten ist, fühlt sich der Geist in uns durch den Geist aus dem Weltenall, mit dem er sich verbunden hat, unten verbunden hat, mit jenen Kräften vereinigt, die am deutlichsten wahrnehmbar und sichtbar werden, indem sie das Samenkorn einem neuen Dasein zuführen.

So leben wir uns gleichsam mit der Kraft des Samens wörtlich in die Erde hinein, durchdringen die Erde. Während wir uns zur Sommerszeit dem leuchtenden Luftkreis zugewendet haben, den sprießenden und sprossenden Früchten der Erde, wenden wir uns nun zu dem toten Gestein, wissen aber jetzt: In diesem toten Gestein ruht das, was wiederum als äußeres Dasein erscheinen soll. - Wir folgen mit unserer eigenen Seele im Geiste der sprießenden, sprossenden Kraft, die sich entzieht dem äußeren Anblick und ganz in den Stein hinein verborgen wird durch die Winterzeit hin. Und wenn diese Winterzeit an ihrer Mitte angekommen ist, wenn die stärkste Dunkelheit herrscht, dann fühlen wir gerade dadurch, daß uns die Außenwelt nicht abhält, uns mit dem Geiste verbunden zu fühlen, wie in den Tiefen, in die wir uns zurückgezogen haben, das Geisteslicht ersprießt, jenes Geisteslicht, für das der Menschheit den gewaltigsten Impuls der Christus Jesus gegeben hat. Da fühlen wir nach, was die Menschen empfunden haben zu alten Zeiten, die davon sprachen, daß sie heruntersteigen müssen da, wo das Samenkorn im Winter ruht, um den Geist in seinen verborgenen Kräften zu erkennen. Da fühlen wir, daß wir den Christus im Verborgenen zu suchen haben, in jenem Verborgenen, das dunkel und finster ist, wenn wir uns in der Seele nicht selber erst erleuchtet haben, das aber hell und leuchtend wird, wenn wir das Christus-Licht in der Seele aufgenommen haben. Da finden wir, daß wir uns in jeder Weihnacht stärken und kräftigen durch jenen Impuls, der durch das Mysterium von Golgatha in die Menschheit hineingedrungen ist.

So fühlen wir jedes Jahr wie eine Bekräftigung unseres Strebens wirklich den Christus-Impuls und nehmen von diesem Impuls die Gewähr und Bürgschaft dafür, daß wir von Jahr zu Jahr jenes Leben in uns verstärken, das uns hineinführt in eine geistige Welt, in welcher es einen Tod, wie er in der physischen Welt vorhanden ist, nicht geben kann. Dann können wir vergeistigen und beseligen, was dem heutigen materialistischen Menschen gar kein Symbolum ist, sondern nur eine äußerliche materialistische Sinnesfreude. Und wir ahnen dann in dem Symbolum die Wirklichkeit, wir ahnen dasselbe, was Johannes Tauler zum Beispiel meint, wenn er davon spricht, daß der Christus dreimal geboren wird: einmal von dem ewigen Vatergott, der die Welt durchwebt und durchlebt, einmal als Mensch zur Zeit der Begründung des Christentums, und dann immer wieder und wieder in den Seelen derer, die das geistige Wort in sich zur Erweckung bringen. Ohne diese letzte Geburt wäre das Christentum nicht vollständig und die Anthroposophie nicht fähig, den christlichen Geist zu erfassen, wenn sie nicht versteht, was es heißt, daß das Wort, das von Jahr zu Jahr uns ertönt, nicht Theorie und Lehre bleiben soll, sondern Wärme und Licht und Leben wird, damit wir durch diese Kraft uns einfügen Leben der Geistigkeit der Welt, aufgenommen werden von ihr und mit ihr selber der Ewigkeit einverleibt werden.

Das sollen wir fühlen, wenn wir vor dem Symbolum der Weihnacht stehen, uns gleichsam untertauchen fühlen in die tiefe, frostige, scheinbar tote Welt unter der Erde, ahnend nicht nur, sondern erkennend, daß der Geist neues Leben weckt aus dem Tode. Auf welcher Stufe der Entwickelung wir auch stehen, wir können nachfühlen, was zu allen Zeiten diejenigen gefühlt haben, welche da eingeweiht waren, die wirklich dann in dieser Weihnacht hinuntergestiegen sind um die Mitternachtsstunde, um dort zu schauen die Geistessonne um die Weihnachtmitternacht, wo die Geistessonne der Weihnachtmitternacht hervorruft aus dem scheinbar toten Gestein zuerst das sprieBende, sprossende Leben, damit es erscheinen kann im neuen Frühling.

Wir selber fühlen uns vereint mit jenen Kräften der Welt, die da walten, auch wenn sie sich äußerlich physisch in Frost und Lichtlosigkeit zurückgezogen haben. Das wollen wir fühlen, wie es alle diejenigen empfinden werden, welche um die Weihnachtszeit wirklich immer gedenken der geistigen Sonne, jener Christus-Sonne, die hinter der physischen Sonne steht. Wir wollen ihnen nachfühlen, um nach und nach emporzusteigen, erleben und dann schauen zu können dasjenige, was der Mensch schauen kann, wenn er in sich immer neue Kräfte entwickelt, die ihn mit dem Geistigen verbinden. Und wovon wir schon vor einigen Jahren sprachen, als wir das Weihnachtsfest feierten, das möge auch diese Betrachtung beschließen als das Wichtigste, was wir im Jahr aufnehmen und in unsere Seele gießen können:

Die Sonne schaue
Um mitternächtige Stunde.
Mit Steinen baue<
Im lebenlosen Grunde.

So finde im Niedergang
Und in des Todes Nacht
Der Schöpfung neuen Anfang,
Des Morgens junge Macht.

Die Höhen laß offenbaren
Der Götter ewiges Wort,
Die Tiefen sollen bewahren
Den friedensvollen Hort.

Im Dunkel lebend
Erschaffe eine Sonne
Im Stoffe webend
Erkenne Geistes Wonne.

The Christmas Tree — A Symbol

On this day, which is supposed to represent the celebration of Christmas, it is probably appropriate to change our usual customs a little, to refrain from seeking knowledge and truth, and instead to pause and reflect on the world of feelings and sensations that is to be awakened by the light we receive from spiritual science.

The festival that is now approaching again and is a festival of bliss in the most beautiful sense of the word for countless people is not yet a very old festival in the sense in which it must be understood by our anthroposophical worldview. What we call Christian Christmas did not exist immediately when Christianity entered the world. The first Christians did not yet have such a Christmas celebration. They did not celebrate the birth of Christ Jesus. And almost three centuries passed before the birth of Christ Jesus was celebrated within Christianity.

In the first centuries, when Christianity spread throughout the world, it was in accordance with the feelings and emotions in the souls of those who had felt the Christ impulse, that these people withdrew quite a lot from the outer life that was prevalent at that time, as it had been handed down since ancient times and had become established at the time of the Christ impulse. For a dark foreboding arose in the souls of the first Christians that they should give rise to an impulse for a new shaping of earthly things, a shaping of earthly things that would be permeated, in contrast to what had gone before, by new feelings, new emotions, and above all by a new hope and a new confidence in human development. And what was then to emerge on the horizon of the great world existence was to take its starting point like a spiritual seed — we can say “literally” — within the earth.

We have often transported ourselves in spirit to the Roman catacombs, where, cut off from the life of that time, the first Christians celebrated the feast of their hearts and the feast of their souls. We have transported ourselves in spirit to these places of worship. At first, birth celebrations were not celebrated there; at most, there were the Sunday celebrations each week to commemorate the great event of Golgotha once a week. In addition, during the first centuries, memorial services were held for those who had spoken with particular enthusiasm and deep feeling about the event at Golgotha and who had intervened in a significant way in the course of human development, so that they were persecuted by the old world. The first Christians celebrated the death days of the martyrs, since these martyrs had entered into the spiritual life, as the birthdays of humanity.

At that time, there was no celebration of the birth of Christ. But it is precisely the emergence of this celebration of the birth of Christ that shows us how we still have every right to say today: Christianity is not here with this or that dogma, with this or that institution, and these institutions and dogmas have only been passed down from generation to generation—but we have a right to invoke Christ's statement that he is with us, that he fills us with his spirit every day. If we feel this spirit filling us, then we may consider ourselves called to a constant and never-ending development of the Christian spirit. And it is precisely through anthroposophical spiritual development that we are called upon not to propagate a dead, rigid Christianity, but to develop a Christianity that is ever new, that brings forth ever new insights and knowledge from within itself, into the future. We never speak of the Christ who was, but always of the eternally living Christ. And we may remember the eternally living, eternally active Christ, the Christ working within us, especially when we speak of the birth of Christ Jesus. Already in the first centuries, Christians felt that they were allowed to impress something new upon the organism of Christian development, that they were allowed to add that which truly flowed to them from the spirit of Christ.

Thus, Christmas is only an institution of the 4th Christian century. We can say that the first Christian Christmas was celebrated in Rome in 354. And it is particularly evident to us that in a less critical time than ours, the confessors of Christianity were imbued with the correct intuition that they should continually draw new fruits from the great Christian tree of life. Therefore, we may perhaps also remember an external symbol of Christmas, the symbol of the Christmas tree, which we have here before us, which countless people will have before them in the coming days, and which spiritual science is called upon to impress ever more deeply into the hearts and souls of people in its special meaning.

We could almost come into conflict with the development of time if we were to adhere strictly to this symbol. It would be a mistake to believe that this symbol is an old one. It could easily give rise to the belief in the soul of today's human being that the poetic fir tree at Christmas is an ancient institution. There is a picture depicting the Christmas tree in Luther's family room. This picture, which was of course painted in the 19th century, depicts something that is completely wrong, because in the wider German-speaking world, as in other parts of Europe, there were no such Christmas trees in Luther's time. It is only a later symbol. This Christmas tree in particular perhaps shows us something very strange. Could we not perhaps also say that the Christmas tree today is something that could be seen as promising for the future, in the sense that people could see more and more in this Christmas tree, perhaps gradually seeing it as a symbol of something extraordinarily meaningful and important?

We can look at this Christmas tree without any illusions about its historical age and, in a way, remind ourselves of what has often come to mind, the so-called Holy Legend. It tells us that when Adam was expelled from Paradise—the legend recounts this in many different ways, but we will summarize it as briefly as possible here—he took with him three seeds from the Tree of Life, which humans were not supposed to eat after they had eaten from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. When Adam died, Seth took these three seeds and placed them in Adam's grave, and from them a tree grew out of Adam's grave. According to legend, many things were made from the wood of this tree: Moses made his staff from this wood, and later the wood for the cross of Golgotha was also taken from this tree.

Thus, a legend reminds us in a meaningful way of that tree of paradise, which stood as the second: humans had enjoyed the tree of knowledge, but the enjoyment of the tree of life was taken from them. But a longing, a desire for that tree remained in the hearts of human beings. Driven out of the spiritual worlds known as “paradise” into the outer world of appearances, human beings felt in their hearts a longing for the tree of life. What they were not allowed to have without merit, without their development, they were to achieve by gradually acquiring merit with the help of knowledge, by gradually maturing and becoming capable through their work on the physical plane to receive the fruits of the tree of life.

Those three seeds represent our longing for the fruits of the tree of life. The legend tells us that the wood of the cross contained that which came from the tree of life. And throughout the whole course of evolution, people have been aware that the dry wood of the cross nevertheless contains the germ of new spiritual life, that from it shall grow that which, when enjoyed in the right way, unite with their souls as the fruit of the tree of life, as the fruit that gives them immortality in the true sense of the word, that kindles the light of the soul and illuminates the soul so that it finds its way out of the dark depths of the physical world into the light heights of spiritual existence and feels itself there as a member of an immortal life.

Without indulging in illusion, we may—if not as historians, then at least as feeling human beings—feel in the tree standing before us as a Christmas tree something like a symbol of that light which is to dawn within our souls, so that we may attain immortality in spiritual existence. We look within ourselves and, through the anthroposophical spiritual current, we feel permeated by that power which allows us to look up into the spiritual world. We then look at that external symbol standing before us as the Christmas tree and can say to ourselves: Let it be a symbol for what should shine and burn in our souls to carry us up into the spiritual world!

This tree has, so to speak, also sprouted from dark depths. Only those people who do not know that what cannot be understood by physical perception nevertheless has deeper spiritual causes may criticize such an unhistorical view as has just been described. It may escape the outer eye how this Christmas tree creeps so strangely into outer human life. In a relatively short time, it has become a blissful custom in general worldly intercourse. Outwardly, it may escape the eye; but anyone who knows that all outward events are impressions of a spiritual development must feel that there was perhaps also a special, deeper reason in the outer physical plane for the appearance of the Christmas tree: that the appearance of the Christmas tree emerged as if from a deep spiritual impulse that invisibly guides human beings and perhaps even imperceptibly inspired individual, highly sensitive souls to express the inner light that is to shine in the world in the beautiful Christmas tree. And when such knowledge awakens to wisdom, then this tree can, through our will, also become an external symbol of the highest.

If anthroposophy is to be wisdom, it must be active wisdom and permeate everything with wisdom, that is, gild the external impressions and customs. In this way, anthroposophy may perhaps, by gradually spreading its warming and illuminating influence over the hearts and souls of people of the present and the future, also gild the outward use of the Christmas tree, which has become so materialistic, permeate it with its wisdom, and make it one of the most important symbols, after it has entered earthly life from the dark depths of the soul in the course of the most recent times. And if we nevertheless dig a little deeper and assume that a deeper spiritual guidance has laid the impulses in human hearts, it does not seem entirely without reason to us that people live out the thoughts inspired in them by a spiritual guidance in deeper feelings for the burning tree.

It has been an old custom in various countries of Europe to search for all kinds of tree shoots and shrubs, mostly deciduous plants, during the weeks before Christmas, which could be brought to sprout or at least bud on Christmas Eve. And in many a soul there arose something of the premonition of the never-conquerable life, that life which is to be victorious over all death, when on Christmas Eve the carefully collected shoots or branches of trees stood solemnly in the living room and were artificially brought to sprout on the night of the deepest solstice. That was an old custom. But the Christmas tree itself is of more recent origin. Where did the custom of the Christmas tree first originate?

We are familiar with the powerful language used by our great German mystics, especially Johannes Tauler, who worked in Alsace. Anyone who allows Johannes Tauler's sermons, with their deep inwardness and infinite emotional value, to sink in will say that at that time in Alsace, when Tauler was striving for the deepening and spiritualization, even the humanization of Christianity, a very special spirit was at work, seeking everywhere for souls that were filled with the mystery of Golgotha. When Tauler preached his sermons in Strasbourg, his powerful words sank deep into people's souls, and many a lasting impression may have sprouted in their hearts. Many impressions may have come from what Johannes Tauler often said in his beautiful Christmas sermons. Three times, he said, God is born for mankind: first, by descending from the Father, from the great universe; then, by coming down to mankind and taking on human form; and thirdly, Christ is born in every human soul that finds within itself the possibility of uniting with itself that which is God's wisdom and of giving birth to a higher human being within itself.

In all kinds of beautiful, solemn phrases, Johannes Tauler expressed the deepest wisdom, especially in the Strasbourg area, and particularly on Christmas Day. It is precisely this kind of deep wisdom that may have sunk into people's souls, where it remained and continued to have an effect. Feelings also have their traditions. What sank into souls at that time may have continued to have an effect from century to century. Thus, the feeling that sank into people's souls at that time may, like all real feelings imbued with spirit, have forced its way into the eyes and hands, may have inspired the eyes to see in the outer symbol the resurrection, the birth of the human spirit light. Therefore, it may be a happy coincidence for materialistic thinking, but for those who know how spiritual guidance permeates everything physical, it is more than a mere coincidence when we hear that the first reports of a Christmas tree standing in a German living room came from Alsace, specifically from Strasbourg. In 1642, we have the very first report that such a Christmas tree stood in a house for the inner happiness of those who wanted to see in an external symbol the light that is to be awakened in ourselves through the reception of spiritual wisdom.

We see how badly German mysticism was received by that Christianity which clings to external forms, for example in Meister Eckhart, the great predecessor of Johannes Tauler: he was declared a heretic after his death, after they had forgotten to do so during his lifetime. And the fiery words of Johannes Tauler, which came from a heart truly filled with Christ, also found little recognition. We can see how that external Christianity, which does not believe in the real spirit, has responded to the deepening of Christianity by Meister Eckhart, Johannes Tauler, and so on, from the fact that the first news of the Christmas tree is announced to us by a spiritual opponent. The person in question thought it was child's play; people should rather go where they could hear the true teaching proclaimed.

At first, this Christmas tree spread slowly. We see it appearing in central Germany around the middle of the 18th century, but even then only in isolated places. It was not until the 19th century that the Christmas tree became an increasingly common spiritual decoration at Christmas, a new symbol of something that had been lived through for centuries. For those who could truly feel all things in the glory, not of nominal Christianity, but in the glory of genuine spiritual Christianity, the Christmas tree always evoked beautiful human feelings. And you will readily believe that the Christmas tree is so recent in origin when you consider that the greatest German poets have not written a single poem about the Christmas tree. Had it existed earlier, Klopstock, for example, would certainly have expressed himself poetically about this symbol. Therefore, let this Christmas tree also be a guarantee for us that symbols for the highest and greatest can arise anew. And these symbols can touch our souls especially when we feel the spiritual truth of the awakening of the self in the human soul, that self which feels the spiritual bonds between souls, and feels them especially when noble people work together.

Let us mention just one example where we can see how the light of the Christmas tree shone into the soul of a great leader of humanity. In 1822, Goethe, whom we have so often encountered in our consideration of spiritual life in the light of anthroposophy, felt at the conclusion of his Faust how Christian symbols were the only ones capable of expressing his poetic intentions. And he also felt very clearly how Christianity must form the noblest bonds between human souls, how it must establish those bonds of brotherly love that are not bound by blood but by the soul, that are united with the spirit. We feel what still lies as an impulse in Christianity when we think of the end of the Gospels. From the cross of Golgotha, Christ Jesus sees his mother, sees his son, and there he establishes that community which had previously been established only through blood. A son was given to the mother, a mother was given to the son, previously only through blood. The bonds of blood are not to be abolished by Christianity. The bonds of blood are to remain. But spiritual bonds must be added, which outshine the blood ties with spiritual light. That is why Christ Jesus spoke the words from the cross: “Woman, behold your son!” and to the disciple: “Behold your mother!” What was previously established only by blood ties is now established from the cross by spiritual bonds.

Wherever the spirit lives in noble spiritual community, Goethe always felt compelled to look toward the true Christian spirit. For him, it was also a need to let this Christian spirit penetrate from his heart into his eyes. In 1822, he had a special occasion to do so. The people of that principality, to which Goethe had devoted so much of his energy, had joined together to found a higher civic school. It was, as it were, a gift to the Prince of Weimar. Goethe could think of no better way to celebrate this small impulse of spiritual progress than to call upon a number of people before Christmas to celebrate this progress of the spirit in individual poems, as best they could. He then collected these poems, which had sprung from the people, gave them a poetic preface himself, and the future Grand Duke Karl Alexander, who was then a three-year-old boy, had to present the little book to Prince Karl August under the Christmas tree. For in 1822, the Christmas tree was already a permanent symbol.

With this small act, Goethe showed that the Christmas tree was a symbol for him of the feeling and perception of spiritual progress in small and large things. And in the poetic preface he wrote for this little book, which is still in the library in Weimar today, Goethe sang of the Christmas tree as this symbol with the words:

Trees shining, trees dazzling,
Spreading sweetness everywhere,
Moving in their splendor,
Exciting old and young hearts alike —
Such a celebration is bestowed upon us,
Many gifts are honored;
We look up and down in amazement,
Back and forth and again and again.

But, Prince, if you happen to encounter
And an evening blesses you so,
That as lights, as flames
All shine before you
Everything you have accomplished,
All who are indebted to you:
With raised spiritual eyes
You feel glorious delight.

We can count this poem by Goethe among the first Christmas poems, so to speak. When we speak of symbols in the field of spiritual science, we can also say that symbols that rise up unconsciously or subconsciously into the souls of human beings, enter into the course of time, can be gilded and clothed in wisdom.

Thus, in the 4th century, we see the emergence of Christian Christmas, how it was first celebrated in Rome at that time. And it must be regarded almost as destiny that Christmas was incorporated into an ancient festival — not in an outwardly materialistic way, but through a mysterious twist of fate — for the regions of Central and Northern Europe at a time when the lowest point of the sun had been celebrated since time immemorial: the winter solstice festival. One must not believe that Christmas in Central and Northern Europe was transferred to this festival, to this time, because people wanted to transform the old festival into Christmas, so to speak, in order to reconcile the peoples. Christmas was born purely out of Christianity. It was precisely through the acceptance of Christmas in the Nordic regions that the deep spiritual kinship of these peoples and their symbols with Christianity became apparent. While, for example, Christmas was not adopted at all in Armenia, and even in Palestine Christians long rejected it, it quickly became established in Europe.

Let us try to understand Christmas itself correctly through an anthroposophical view, in order to understand the Christmas tree as a symbol. Throughout the year, when we are here together, we allow words to penetrate us from spiritual sources, words that are not merely words, but power that should become more and more effective in our souls, so that the soul can become a citizen of eternity. Throughout the year, we gather to let these words, this Logos, resound in this room in the most varied ways: that Christ is always with us and that when we are together, the spirit of Christ works within us so that our words are permeated by the spirit of Christ. If we only utter things with the awareness that the word is a winged carrier for the revelations of the Spirit to humanity, then we allow what is the word of the Spirit to flow into our soul. But we know that the word of the Spirit is not fully grasped by us, cannot be all that it should be if we merely take it in as knowledge in an external, abstract form. We know that it can only be what it should be when it produces that inner warmth through which the soul expands and feels, expands through inner warmth, and finally, pouring out into all phenomena of world existence, learns to feel itself one with the spirit that is poured out over all phenomena.

Let us feel that what reaches our ears as the word of the spirit must become power and life within us, by placing before us, when the time is right, the symbol that can call affirmatively to our soul: Let that which can ignite as warmth and illuminate as light arise within you as something new, as the spiritual human being—the word that comes to us from spiritual sources, from spiritual depths—then we will also feel that what sounds to us as the word of the spirit has meaning. At a moment like this, let us feel seriously what spiritual science can give us in terms of such soul light and soul warmth! Let us feel it in the following way:

Let us look at today's materialistic world with its hustle and bustle, how people rush and drive from morning to night, and how they judge everything in terms of materialistic utility, according to the standards of the outer physical plane, how they have no inkling that behind everything the spirit lives and weaves. People fall asleep in the evening, unaware of anything other than their belief that they are unconscious, and that in the morning they will wake up again into the consciousness of the physical plane. People fall asleep unaware, after rushing and working during the day, without enlightening themselves about the meaning of life. When those who strive for spiritual knowledge have taken in the words of the spirit, they know something that is not merely theory and doctrine. They know something that gives them soul light and soul warmth; they know that if they only took in the ideas of physical life during the day, they would wither away. Your whole life would be desolate, everything you gained would die if you only had the ideas of the physical plane. When you lie down to sleep in the evening, you enter a world of the spirit, you immerse yourself with all your soul forces in a world of higher spiritual beings, to which you are destined to grow up with your whole being. And when you wake up in the morning, you emerge from the spiritual world renewed and strengthened, and pour divine spiritual life, whether consciously or unconsciously, into what you receive from the physical plane. From the eternal, you yourself rejuvenate the temporal aspect of your existence every morning.

If we transform the word of the spirit into the feeling we can have every evening: I am not merely sinking into unconsciousness, but I am diving into the world where the beings of the eternal are, to whom my own being belongs. I fall asleep with the feeling: Into the spiritual world! - and I wake up with the feeling: Out of the spirit! - then we permeate ourselves with that feeling into which the word of the Spirit, which we have taken up here in a life devoted to spiritual knowledge, is to be transformed, day by day, week by week. Then the Spirit becomes life in us, then we wake up differently and fall asleep differently.

If we feel connected to the spirit of the universe, if we feel like missionaries of the world spirit every morning, if we gradually feel connected to what permeates and interweaves all external being as the world spirit, then we also feel, when the sun is high in the summer and sends its life-giving rays to the earth, how the spirit works in an external way and how, because it sends us its face, its external face in the external rays of the sun, it allows its inner essence to recede, as it were.

Where do we see this spirit of the universe, which Zarathustra already proclaimed in the sun, when only the external physical rays of the sun shine upon us? We see this spirit of the universe when we can recognize where it sees itself. Truly, this spirit of the universe creates its own sense organs through which it can manifest itself during the summer. It creates external sense organs. Let us learn to understand what it is that covers the earth with a green blanket of plants from spring onwards, clothing the earth with a new face! What is it? It is a mirror for the world spirit of the sun. When the sun sends its physical rays to us, the world spirit looks down upon the earth. What springs forth in the growth of plants, in flowers and leaves, is nothing other than the image of the pure, chaste world spirit, which sees itself reflected in its work, which it causes to sprout from the earth. The sense organs of the world spirit are contained in the plant cover.

When the plant cover disappears in autumn, we see how the outer power of the sun diminishes, how the face of the world spirit withdraws. If we are properly prepared, we feel the spirit pulsing through the universe within ourselves. Then we can follow the world spirit even when it withdraws from our outer sight. Then, when our eyes cannot rest on the plant cover, we feel how the spirit awakens in us to the extent that it withdraws from the outer world. And the awakening spirit becomes our guide into the depths into which spiritual life withdraws, into which we surrender the seeds for the next spring. There we learn to see with our spiritual eyes and say to ourselves: When external life gradually becomes invisible to the external senses, when the melancholy of autumn creeps into our souls, the soul follows the spirit into the dead rock in order to draw out those forces which in spring cover the earth with new sense organs for the world spirit.

This is how those people who grasped the spirit in the spirit felt their participation with the world spirit, their participation with the seed down in winter. When the outer sun has the least power, shines the least, when the outer darkness is at its strongest, the spirit within us feels connected through the spirit from the universe, with which it has connected itself below, united with those forces that become most clearly perceptible and visible as they bring the seed to a new existence.

Thus we live, as it were, literally into the earth with the power of the seed, penetrating the earth. While in summer we turned toward the shining circle of air, the sprouting and budding fruits of the earth, we now turn toward the dead rock, but now we know: in this dead rock rests that which is to appear again as external existence. We follow with our own soul in spirit the sprouting, budding power that withdraws from external view and is hidden completely in the stone throughout the winter. And when this winter season has reached its midpoint, when the darkness is at its strongest, then precisely because the outer world does not prevent us from feeling connected to the spirit, we sense how, in the depths into which we have withdrawn, the light of the spirit is sprouting, that light of the spirit for which Christ Jesus gave humanity the most powerful impulse. We feel what people in ancient times felt when they spoke of having to descend to where the seed lies dormant in winter in order to recognize the spirit in its hidden powers. We feel that we must seek Christ in the hidden, in that hiddenness which is dark and gloomy unless we have first enlightened ourselves in our souls, but which becomes bright and shining when we have taken the light of Christ into our souls. There we find that every Christmas we are strengthened and invigorated by the impulse that has penetrated humanity through the mystery of Golgotha.

Thus, every year we truly feel the Christ impulse as a confirmation of our striving, and from this impulse we receive the assurance and guarantee that, year after year, we will strengthen within ourselves that life which leads us into a spiritual world where death as it exists in the physical world cannot exist. Then we can spiritualize and bless what is not at all a symbol for today's materialistic human being, but only an external materialistic sensual pleasure. And then we will sense the reality in the symbol, we will sense the same thing that Johannes Tauler, for example, means when he speaks of Christ being born three times: once from the eternal Father God who permeates and lives through the world, once as a human being at the time of the founding of Christianity, and then again and again in the souls of those who awaken the spiritual Word within themselves. Without this last birth, Christianity would not be complete and anthroposophy would not be able to grasp the Christian spirit if it did not understand what it means that the word that resounds to us from year to year should not remain theory and doctrine, but becomes warmth and light and life, so that through this power we may integrate ourselves into the spirituality of the world, be taken up by it and, with it, be incorporated into eternity.

We should feel this when we stand before the symbol of Christmas, feeling as if we are submerged in the deep, frosty, seemingly dead world beneath the earth, not only sensing but recognizing that the spirit awakens new life from death. No matter what stage of development we are at, we can empathize with what those who were initiated in all ages have felt, who were initiated, who really descended at midnight on Christmas Eve to see the spiritual sun at midnight on Christmas Eve, where the spiritual sun of Christmas Eve first brings forth sprouting, budding life from the seemingly dead rock, so that it can appear in the new spring.

We ourselves feel united with those forces of the world that are at work there, even though they have withdrawn outwardly, physically, into frost and darkness. We want to feel what all those will feel who, at Christmas time, truly remember the spiritual sun, the Christ sun that stands behind the physical sun. We want to empathize with them so that we can gradually rise up, experience, and then see what human beings can see when they develop ever new forces within themselves that connect them with the spiritual. And what we spoke of a few years ago when we celebrated Christmas may also conclude this reflection as the most important thing we can take in and pour into our souls during the year:

The sun looks
At the midnight hour.
With stones it builds<
In the lifeless ground.

So find in decline
And in the night of death
The new beginning of creation,
The young power of the morning.

Let the heights reveal
The eternal word of the gods,
The depths shall preserve
The peaceful refuge.

Living in darkness
Create a sun
Weaving in matter
Recognize the joy of the spirit.