Metamorphoses of the Soul I
GA 58
2 December 1909, Berlin
VIII. Buddha and Christ
Ever since its foundation,55In connection with this lecture cf. also: Gautama Buddha's sayings from the middle Majjhimanikayo collection of the Pali Canon; The Gospel of Buddha according to old Records by Paul Carus, Chicago & London, 1917; Hermann Beckh, Buddha und seine Lehre, Stuttgart, 1958. For a contrast of Buddha and Christ also Rudolf Steiner in Christianity as Mystical Fact the spiritual-scientific movement has suffered from being confused with all sorts of other tendencies and strivings of the present day. Particularly it is accused of trying to transplant certain eastern spiritual currents, especially that of Buddhism, into the culture of the West. Hence our subject today has a special relevance for spiritual research: we are going to consider the significance of the Buddhist religion on the one hand and that of Christianity on the other, from the standpoint of Spiritual Science. Those who have often attended my lectures here will know that we intend a study in the scientific sense, ranging widely over world-events from the point of view of spiritual life.
Anyone who has thought at all seriously about Buddhism will know that its founder, Gautama Buddha, always refused to answer questions concerning the evolution of the world and the foundations of our human existence. He wished to speak only about the means whereby a man could come to a way of existence that would be satisfying in itself. This fact alone should be enough to distinguish Buddhism from Spiritual Science, for Spiritual Science never refuses to speak about world origins and the great facts of evolution. And if one particular aspect of Spiritual Science is being more and more confused with Buddhism—namely our treatment of repeated earth-lives and the working of spiritual causes from earlier lives into later ones—it is strange that Spiritual Science should be charged on this account with being a form of Buddhism. By now people should surely have grasped that Spiritual Science is not concerned with names but with ascertainable truth, independently of any name that may be given to it. The fact that the doctrine of reincarnation or repeated earth-lives is to be found among the ideas of Gautama Buddha, though in a quite different form, has no more significance for Theosophy or Spiritual Science than the fact that the elements of geometry are found in Euclid. Just as it would be absurd to accuse a geometry teacher of practising “Euclidism”, so is it absurd to bring a charge of Buddhism against Spiritual Science because it has a doctrine of reincarnation and similar ideas are to be found in the Buddha. At the same time we must make it clear that Spiritual Science provides a means of testing the spiritual sources of every religion—including Christianity, the basis of European culture, on the one hand, and Buddhism on the other.
The notion that Spiritual Science wants to be “Buddhism” is not confined to persons who know nothing of Theosophy. Even the great Orientalist, Max Muller,56Max Muller, 1823–1900, Orientalist, religious and linguistic researcher. The quotation about the grunting pig attributed to him could not be traced. who has done so much to make oriental religions better known in Europe, cannot rid himself of it. In discussing it with another writer he used the following analogy. If, he says, a man were to be seen somewhere with a pig that was a good grunter, no-one would be surprised; but if a man could mimic the grunting to perfection, people would gather round and look on it as a miracle! By the grunting pig Max Muller means the real Buddhism, which by then had become known in Europe. But its teaching, he continues, was attracting no attention, while false Buddhism, or what he calls “Madame Blavatsky's theosophical swindle”,57Helena Petrovna Blavatsky, 1831–1891. She founded the Theosophical Society in New York together with H.S. Olcott in 1875, which soon thereafter transferred its headquarters to India. was gaining wide acceptance.
The analogy is not very happy. Even apart from the fact that it is hardly polite to represent the true Buddhist teaching, which came to birth with so much travail, by the grunting of a pig, the analogy implies that Madame Blavatsky succeeded extremely well in producing an exact imitation of Buddhism. Madame Blavatsky deserves credit for having set the ball rolling, but nowadays very few thoughtful theosophists believe that she was successful in reproducing true, genuine Buddhism. Just as a teacher of geometry is not required to produce a replica of Euclid, so a teacher of Theosophy is not required to reproduce Buddhism.
If we wish to immerse ourselves in the spirit of Buddhism in the sense of Spiritual Science, so that we may then compare it with the spirit of Christianity, we had better not proceed immediately to its deeper doctrines, which can readily be interpreted in various ways. We will rather try to gain an impression of its significance from its whole way of thinking and forming ideas. Our best course is to start with a document that is very highly regarded in Buddhist circles: the questions put by King Milinda to the Buddhist sage, Nagasena.58Milindapanha (Milinda's Questions): Discussion between Menandros (Milinda), king of the Greco-Indian empire (c.110 B.C.), and the Buddhist saint Nagasena on the central questions of Buddhist dogma. Translated from the Pali by I.B. Horner, Luzac & Co., London, 1963/64. Here we find a conversation which brings out the inner character of the Buddhist way of thinking. Milinda, the mighty and brilliant King who has never been defeated by a sage, being always able to repulse any objections brought against his own ideas, wants to converse with Nagasena about the significance of the immortal, eternal element in human nature which passes from one incarnation to the next.
Nagasena asks the King: “How did you come here—on foot or in a chariot?” “In a chariot”, the King replies. “Now”, says Nagasena, “let us inquire into this question of the chariot—what is it? Is the axle the chariot? No. Is it the wheel? No. Is it the yoke? No. And so”, says Nagasena, “we may go through all the parts of the chariot; none of them is the chariot. Yet the chariot we have before us is made up entirely of these separate parts. ‘Chariot’ is only a name for the sum total of these parts. If we set aside the parts, we have nothing left but the name.”
Nagasena's aim in all this is to lead the eye away from the physical world. He wants to show that the composite form designated by a “name” does not actually exist as such in the physical world, so that he may thus bring out the worthlessness and meaninglessness of the physical sense-perceptible as the sum of its parts.
In order to make the point of this parable quite clear, Nagasena says: “Thus it is also with the composite form that is man, which passes from one earth-life to another. Is it the hands and head and legs that pass from one earth-life to another? No. Is it what you are doing today or will do tomorrow? No. What then is it that constitutes a human being? The name and the form. But just as with the chariot, when we look on the sum of the parts we only have a name. We have nothing more than the parts!”
We can bring out the argument even more clearly by turning to another parable that Nagasena sets before King Milinda. The King speaks: “You say, O wise Nagasena, that what passes from one incarnation to another are the name and form of the human being. When they appear again on earth in a new incarnation, are they the name and form of the same being?” Nagasena answers: “Behold, your mango-tree is bearing fruit. Then a thief comes and steals the fruit. The owner of the mango-tree cries: ‘You have stolen my fruit!’ ‘It is not your fruit’, the thief replies. ‘Your fruit was the one you buried in the ground, where it dissolved. The fruit now growing on the tree has the same name, but it is not your fruit.’” Nagasena then continued: “Yes, it is true—the fruit has the same name and form, but it is not the same fruit. Yet the thief can still be punished for his theft. So it is with what re-appears in an earthly life compared with what appeared in previous lives. It is only because the owner of the mango-tree planted a fruit in the earth that fruit now grows on the tree. Hence we must regard the fruit as his property. It is similar with the deeds and destiny of a man's new life on earth: we must look on them as the effects, the fruit, of his previous life. But what appears is something new, as is the fruit on the mango-tree.”
In this way Nagasena sought to dissolve everything that makes up an earth-life, in order to show how only its effects pass over into the next life on earth.
This approach can give us a much better idea of the whole spirit of Buddhist teaching than we could gain from its general principles, for these—as I said—can be interpreted in various ways. If we allow the spirit of Nagasena's parables to work upon us, we can see clearly enough how the Buddhist teacher wishes to draw his disciples away from everything that stands here before us as a separate human Ego, a definite personality; how he wishes to direct attention above all to the idea that, although what appears in a new incarnation is indeed an effect of the previous personality, we have no right to speak in any true sense of a coherent Ego which passes on from one earth-life to the next.
If now we turn from Buddhism to Christianity, we could—though it has never been done—rewrite Nagasena's examples in a Christian sense, somewhat as follows. Let us suppose that King Milinda has arisen from death as a Christian and that the ensuing conversation is permeated, with the spirit of Christianity. Nagasena would then have to say: “Look at your hand! Is the hand a man? No—the hand alone does not make a man. But if you cut off the hand from the man, it will decay, and in two or three weeks it will no longer be a hand. What then is it makes the hand a hand? It is the man who makes the hand a hand! Is the heart a man? No! Is the heart something self-sufficient? No, for if we separate the heart from the man, it will soon cease to be heart—and the man will soon cease to be a man. Hence it is the man who makes the heart a heart and the heart that makes the man a man. The man is a man living on earth only because he has the heart as an instrument. Thus in the living human organism we have parts which in themselves are nothing; they exist only in relation to our entire make-up. And if we reflect on how it is that the separate parts cannot exist on their own, we find that we must look beyond them to some invisible agency which rules over them, holds them together and uses them as instruments to serve its needs.”
Nagasena could then return to his parable of the chariot and might say, speaking now in a Christian sense: “True, the axle is not the chariot, for with the axle alone you cannot drive. True, the wheels are not the chariot, for with the wheels alone you cannot drive. True, the yoke is not the chariot, for with the yoke alone you cannot drive. True, the seat is not the chariot, for with the seat alone you cannot drive. And although the chariot is only a name for the assembly of parts, you do not drive with the parts but with something that is not the parts. So the ‘name’ does stand for something specific! It leads us to something that is not in any of the parts.”
Thus the spirit of Buddhist teaching aims at diverting attention from the visible in order to get beyond it, and it denies the significance of anything visible. The Christian approach sees the parts of a chariot, or of any other object, in such a way that the mind is directed towards the whole. From this contrast we can see that both the Christian and the Buddhist approach to the outer world have definite consequences. And if now we follow the Buddhist approach to its logical conclusion, its consequences will be plain to see.
A man, a Buddhist, stands before us. He plays his part in the world and performs various actions. His Buddhist teaching tells him that everything around him is worthless. The nothingness and non-existence of everything visible is impressed upon him. Then he is told that he ought to free himself from dependence on this nothingness in order to reach a real, higher state of being. With this aim in mind he should avert his gaze from the sense-world and from everything he could learn about it through his human faculties. Turn away from the sense-world! For if we reduce to name and form everything offered by the sense-world, its nothingness is revealed. No truth is to be found in the sense-world displayed before us!
What does the Christian way of thinking make of all this? It regards any single part of the human organism not as a separate unit, but as embraced by a real, unified whole. The hand, for example, is a hand only because man uses it as a hand. Here the thing we see points directly to something behind it. This way of thinking thus leads to findings very different from those that derive from the Buddhist way. Hence we can say: A man stands before us. He exists as a man only because behind him stands a spiritual man who activates his constituent parts and is the directing source of whatever he does or accomplishes. That which animates the parts of his organism and lives in them has poured itself into the visible being, where it experiences the fruits of action. From thus experiencing the sense-world it extracts something we may call a “result”, and this is carried over into the next incarnation, the next life on earth. Behind the external man there is this active man, this doer, who does not reject the outer world but handles it in such a way that its fruits are garnered and carried over to the next life.
If we look at this question of repeated earth-lives from the standpoint of Spiritual Science, we must say: For Buddhism, the principle that holds a man together during life does not endure; only his actions work on into his next earth-life. For Christianity, the principle that holds a man together is a complete Ego; and this Ego endures. It carries over into the next earth-life all the fruits of the preceding one.
Hence we see that what keeps these two world-outlooks decisively apart is the quite definite difference between their respective ways of thinking, and this counts for much more than theories or principles. If in our time people were not so wedded to theories about everything, they would find it easier to recognise the character of a spiritual movement from its typical concepts.
All this is connected with a final difference between the Christian and Buddhist outlooks. The core of Buddhist doctrine has been set forth in immensely significant words by the founder of Buddhism himself. Now this lecture is truly not being given in order to promote opposition to the great originator of Buddhist teaching. My intention is to describe the Buddhist world-outlook quite objectively. It is precisely Spiritual Science that is the right instrument for penetrating without sympathy or antipathy into the heart of the various spiritual movements in the world.
The Buddha-legend brings out clearly enough, even if in a pictorial form, what the founder of Buddhism was aiming at. We are told that Gautama Buddha, the son of King Suddhodana, was brought up in a royal palace, where everything around him was designed to enhance the quality of life. Throughout his youth he knew nothing of human suffering or sorrow; he was surrounded by nothing but happiness, pleasure and diversions. One day he left the palace, and for the first time the pains and sorrows, all the shadow-side of human life, met him face to face. He saw an old man withering away; he saw a man stricken with disease; above all, he saw a corpse. Hence it came to him that life must be very different from what he had seen of it in the royal palace. He saw now that human life is bound up with pain and suffering.
It weighed heavily on the Buddha's great soul that human life entails suffering and death, as he had seen them in the sick man, the aged man and the corpse. For he said to himself: “What is life worth if old age, sickness and death are inescapably part of it?”
These reflections gave rise to the Buddha's monumental doctrine of suffering, which he summarised in the words: Birth is suffering, old age is suffering, illness is suffering, death is suffering. All existence is filled with suffering. That we cannot always be united with that which we love—this is how Buddha himself later developed his teaching—is suffering. That we have to be united with that which we do not love, is suffering. That we cannot attain in every sphere of life what we want and desire, is suffering. Thus there is suffering wherever we look. Even though the word “suffering”, as used by the Buddha, does not have quite the meaning it has for us today, it did mean that everywhere man is exposed to things that come against him from outside and against which he can muster no effective strength. Life is suffering, and therefore, said the Buddha, we must ask what the cause of suffering is.
Then there came before his soul the phenomenon he called “thirst for existence”. If there is suffering everywhere in the world then man is bound to encounter suffering as soon as he enters this world of suffering. Why does he have to suffer in this way? The reason is that he has an urge, a thirst, for incarnation in this world. The passionate desire to pass from the spiritual world into a physical-corporeal existence and to perceive the physical world—therein lies the basic cause of human existence. Hence there is only one way to gain release from suffering: to fight against the thirst for existence. And this can be done if we learn to follow the eight-fold path, in accordance with the teaching of the great Buddha. This is usually taken to embrace correct views, correct aims, correct speech, correct actions, correct living, correct endeavour, correct thoughts, and correct meditation. This taking hold of life in the correct way and relating oneself correctly to life, will gradually enable a man to kill off the desire for existence, and will finally lead him so far that he no longer needs to descend into a physical incarnation and so is released from existence and the suffering that pervades it. Thus the four noble truths, as the Buddha called them, are:
- Knowledge of suffering
- Knowledge of the causes of suffering
- Knowledge of the need to end suffering
- Knowledge of the means to end suffering
These are the four holy truths that were proclaimed by the Buddha in his great sermon at Benares in the fifth or sixth century, B.C.after his illumination under the Bodhi tree.
Release from the sufferings of existence—that is what Buddhism puts in the foreground, above all else. And that is why it can be called a religion of redemption, in the most eminent sense of the word, a religion of release from the sufferings of existence, and therefore—since all existence is bound up with suffering—of release from the cycle of repeated lives on earth.
This is quite in keeping with the conceptions described in the first part of this lecture. For if a thought directed to the outer world finds only nothingness, if that which holds together the parts of anything is only name and form, and if nothing carries over the effects of one incarnation into the next, then we can say that “true existence” can be achieved only if a man passes beyond everything he encounters in the outer sense-world.
It would obviously not be right to call Christianity a “religion of redemption” in the same sense as Buddhism. If we wish to put Christianity in its right relationship to Buddhism from this standpoint, we could call it a “religion of rebirth”. For Christianity starts from a recognition that everything in an individual life bears fruits which are of importance and value for the innermost being of man and are carried over into a new life, where they are lived out on a higher level of fulfillment. All that we extract from a single life becomes more and more nearly perfect, until at last it appears in a spiritual form. Even the least significant elements in our existence, if they are taken up by the spiritual and given new life on an ever more perfect level, can be woven into the spiritual. Nothing in human existence is null and void, for it goes through a resurrection when the spirit has transformed it in the right way.
It is as a religion of rebirth, of the resurrection of the best that we have experienced, that we should look on Christianity—a religion for which nothing we encounter is worthless, but is rather a building-stone for the great edifice that is to arise by a bringing together of everything spiritual in the sense-world around us. Buddhism is a religion of release from existence, while Christianity is a religion of rebirth on a spiritual level. This is evident in their ways of thinking about things great and small and in their final principles.
If we look for the causes of this contrast, we shall find them in the quite opposite characteristics of Western and Eastern culture. The fundamental difference between them can be put quite simply. All genuine Eastern culture which has not yet been fertilised by the West is non-historical, whereas all Western culture is historical. And that is ultimately the difference between the Christian and the Buddhist outlooks. The Christian outlook is historical: it recognises not only that repeated earth-lives occur but that they form an historical sequence, so that what is first experienced on an imperfect level can rise in the course of further incarnations to ever higher and more nearly perfect levels. While Buddhism sees release from earth-existence in terms of rising to Nirvana, Christianity sees its aim as a continuing process of development, whereby all the products and achievements of single lives shine forth in ever-higher stages of perfection, until, permeated by the spirit, they experience resurrection at the end of earth-existence.
Buddhism is non-historical, quite in the sense of the cultural background out of which it grew. It turns its gaze to earlier and later incarnations of man and sees him in opposition to the external world. It never asks whether in earlier times man may have stood in a different relationship to the external world or whether in the future this relationship may again be different—though these are questions that Christianity does ask. So Buddhism comes to the view that man's relationship to the world in which he incarnates is always the same. Driven into incarnation by his thirst for existence, he enters a world of suffering; it matters not whether the world called forth this same thirst in him in the past or will do so in the future. Suffering, and again suffering, is what he is bound always to experience during life on earth. So earth-lives are repeated, and Buddhism never truly connects them with any idea of historical development. That is why Buddhism can see its Nirvana, its state of bliss, as attainable only by withdrawing from the ever-repeated cycle of lives on earth, and why it has to regard the world itself as the source of human suffering. For it says that if we ever enter the physical world, we are bound to suffer: the sense-world cannot but bring us suffering.
That is not Christian, for the Christian outlook is historical through and through. It recognises that man, in being born again and again, faces an external world; but if these encounters bring him suffering, or leave him unsatisfied, deprived of an inwardly harmonious existence, this is not because earthly life is always such that man must suffer, but because he has related himself wrongly to the external world.
Christianity and the Old Testament both point to a definite event, as a result of which man has developed his inner life in such a way that he can make his existence in the world around him a source of suffering. Suffering is not inflicted on us by the world we perceive through our eyes and ears, the world in which we are incarnated; humanity once developed something within itself which placed it in a wrong relation to the world. And as this is inherited from generation to generation, it is still the cause of human suffering today. In the Christian sense we can say that from the beginning of the earth-existence human beings have not had a right relation to the outer world.
This comparison can be extended to the fundamental doctrines of the two religions. Buddhism emphasises again and again that the outer world is Maya, illusion. Christianity, on the contrary, says: Man may indeed believe that what he sees of the outer world is an illusion, but that is because his organs are so constituted that he cannot see through the external veil to the spiritual world. The outer world is not an illusion; the illusion has its source in the limitations of human seeing. Buddhism says: Look at the rocks around you; look where the lightning flashes and the thunder rolls—it is all Maya, the great illusion. Christian thinking would reply that it is wrong to call the outer world an illusion. No, it is man who has not yet found the way to open the spiritual senses—his spirit-eyes and spirit-ears, in Goethe's words—which could show him how the outer world is to be seen in its true form. Christianity, accordingly, looks for a pre-historical event which has prevented the human heart from forming a true picture of the outer world. And human development through a series of incarnations must be seen as a means whereby man can regain, in a Christian sense, his spirit-eyes and spirit-ears in order to see the external world as it really is. Repeated earth-lives are therefore not meaningless: they are the path which will enable man to look at the outer world—from which Buddhism wishes to liberate him—and to see it irradiated by the spirit. To overcome the physical appearance of the world by acquiring the spiritual vision that man does not yet possess, and to dispel the human error whereby the outer world can seem to be only Maya—that is the innermost impulse of Christianity.
In Christianity, therefore, we do not find a great teacher who, as in Buddhism, tells us that the world is a source of suffering and that we must get away from it into another world, the quite different world of Nirvana. Christianity presents a powerful impulse to lead the world forward: the Christ, who has given us the strongest indication of the forces that man can develop out of his inner life-forces that will enable him to make use of every incarnation in such a way that its fruits will be carried into every succeeding incarnation through his own powers. The incarnations are not to cease in order to open the way to Nirvana; but all that we can acquire in them is to be used and developed in order that it may experience resurrection in the spiritual sense.
Herein lies the deepest distinction between the non-historical philosophy of Buddhism and the historical outlook of Christianity. Christianity looks back to a Fall of man as the source of pain and suffering and onward to a Resurrection for their healing. We cannot gain freedom from pain and suffering by renouncing existence, but only by making good the error which has placed man in a false relationship with the surrounding world. If we correct this error, we shall indeed see that the sense-perceptible world dissolves like a cloud before the sun, and also that all our actions and experiences within it can be resurrected on the spiritual plane.
Christianity is thus a doctrine of reincarnation, of resurrection, and only in that light may we place it beside Buddhism. This, however, involves contrasting the two faiths in the sense of Spiritual Science and entering into the deepest impulses of both.
All that I have said in general terms can be substantiated down to the smallest details. For example, we can find in Buddhism something like the Sermon on the Mount in the Matthew Gospel:
He that hears the law—that is, the law imparted by the Buddha—is blessed. He who raises himself above the passions is blessed. He who can live in loneliness is blessed. He who can live with the creatures of the world and do them no harm is blessed. And so on.
Thus we could regard the Buddhist beatitudes as a counterpart of the beatitudes in the Sermon on the Mount. We have only to understand them in the right way. Let us compare them with the text of the beatitudes of the Sermon on the Mount in St. Matthew's Gospel.59Matt. 5, 3 There we hear at the beginning the powerful words: “Blessed are they who are beggars for the spirit, for they will find within themselves the kingdom of heaven.” It is not said only “Blessed are they who hear the law”; there is an addition. We are told: Blessed are the poor in spirit so that they have to beg for it, for “theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” What does that mean? We can understand such a saying only if we keep before our souls the whole historical character of the Christian outlook.
First of all, we must remember that all the faculties of the human soul have a history; they have evolved. Spiritual Science takes this word “evolved” very seriously, as meaning that what is there today has not been there always. It tells us that what we call our intellect, our scientific way of thinking, did not exist in primitive times; in place of it there was something we might call a dim, hazy clairvoyance. The way in which we now achieve knowledge of the world was unknown to these early people. But there dwelt in them a kind of primitive wisdom which went far beyond anything we have been able to establish today. Anyone who understands history knows that such a primitive wisdom did exist. In those early times human beings did not know how to build machines or railway engines, or how to dominate their environment with the aid of natural forces, but their vision of the divine-spiritual foundations of the world went far beyond our present knowledge.
This vision did not come from thinking things out. Men could not then proceed as modern science does. They were given inspirations, revelations, which arose dimly in their souls. They were not wholly conscious of them, but they could recognise them as true reflections of the spiritual world and of the ancient wisdom. But as in the course of evolution man passed from life to life, he was destined to lose the old hazy clairvoyance and the ancient wisdom and to learn to grasp things with his intellect. In the future he will unite the two faculties: he will be able to look clairvoyantly into the spiritual world while retaining the forms of modern knowledge. Today we are living in a transition stage. The old clairvoyance has been lost, and what we now are has developed in the course of time. How has man reached the point of being able, as a self-conscious being, to get to know the world through his intellect? In particular, when did self-consciousness first come to man?
It was at the time—though world-evolution is not usually interpreted so exactly—when Christ Jesus appeared on earth. Men were at a turning-point given for what has produced the finest achievements of our own time. The coming of the Christ into human evolution marked the transition from the old to the new. When John the Baptist proclaimed “The Kingdom of Heaven is at hand”,60Matt. 3, 2 he was simply using a technical expression for the experience that would come to men when they began to gain knowledge of the world through their own self-consciousness and no longer through inspirations. The Baptist's call means that knowledge of the world in terms of concepts and ideas is near at hand. Men are no longer dependent on the old clairvoyance, but can now investigate the world for themselves. And the most powerful impulse for this new way of knowledge was given by Christ Jesus.
Hence there is a deep meaning in the very first words of the Sermon on the Mount. They might be interpreted: Men are now at the stage where they are beggars for the spirit. In the past they had clairvoyant vision and could look into the spiritual world. That time is over. But a time will come when man, through the inner force of his Ego, will be able to find a substitute for the old clairvoyance through the Word which will reveal itself within him. Blessed, accordingly, are not only those who in ancient times gained the spirit through twilight inspirations, but also those who no longer have clairvoyance because evolution has brought them to that stage. They are indeed not unblest, those who are beggars for the spirit because they have lost the spirit. Blessed are they, for theirs is that which reveals itself through the Ego and can be achieved through their own self-consciousness.
Further we read: “Blessed are they who suffer”, for although the outer sense-world is a cause of suffering because of our relationship to it, the time has now come when man, if he will grasp his self-consciousness and unfold the forces which dwell in his Ego, will come to know the remedy for his suffering. Within himself he will find the possibility of consolation, for the time has come when any external consolation loses significance, because the Ego is to have the strength to find within itself the remedy for suffering. Blessed are they who can no longer find in the outer world all that was once found there. That is also the highest meaning of the beatitude, “Blessed are they who thirst after justice, for they shall be filled.” Within the Ego itself will be found a source of justice that will compensate for the injustice in the world.
So it is that Christ Jesus points the way to the human Ego, to the divine element in man. Take into your inner being that which lives in the Christ as a prefiguration; then you will find the strength to carry over from one incarnation to another the fruits of your lives on earth. It is important for life in the spiritual world that you should master what can be experienced in earthly existence.
Bearing on this is an event which in the first instance is one of suffering for Christianity—the death of Christ Jesus, the Mystery of Golgotha. This death is of greater significance than ordinary death; Christ here establishes death as the starting-point of an immortal, invincible life. This death is not merely as though Christ wished to free himself from life; he suffers it because from it works an ascending power, and because out of this death there is to flow eternal life.
This was felt by those who lived in the early centuries of Christianity, and it will be recognised more and more widely when the Christ Impulse is better understood. Then people will understand how it was that six centuries before Christ one of the greatest of men left his palace, saw a dead body and formed the judgment—death is suffering, release from death is salvation—and resolved that he would have no more to do with anything that lay under the dominion of death. Six centuries go by until the Christ comes, and after six more centuries have passed a symbol is raised which will be understood only in the future. What is this symbol?
It was not a Buddha, not a chosen person, but simple folk who went and saw the symbol; saw the cross raised and a dead body upon it. For them, death was not suffering, nor did they turn away from it; they saw in the body a pledge of eternal life, a sign of that which conquers death and points away from everything in the sense-world.
The noble Buddha saw a corpse; he turned away from the sense-world and decided that death is suffering. The simple folk who looked upon the cross and the body did not turn away from the sight: for them it was testimony that from this earthly death there springs eternal life. So it was that six hundred years before the founding of Christianity the Buddha stood before the corpse, and six hundred years after the coming of Christ simple folk saw the symbol which expressed for them what had come about through the founding of Christianity. At no other time has there been such a turning-point in the evolution of mankind. If we look at these things objectively, we come to see even more clearly wherein lie the greatness and significance of Buddhism.
As we have said, man was originally endowed with a primal wisdom, and in the course of successive incarnations this wisdom was gradually lost. The appearance of the great Buddha marks the end of an old epoch of evolution; it provides the strongest historical evidence that men had lost the old wisdom, the old knowledge, and this explains the turning away from life. The Christ is the starting-point of a new evolution, which sees the sources of life eternal in this earthly life.
In our time this important fact concerning human evolution is still not clearly understood. That is why it can happen today that men of fine and noble nature, unable to gain from modern viewpoints what they need for their inner life, turn to something different and find release in Buddhism. And Buddhism does show in a certain sense how a man can be lifted up out of sense-existence and through a certain unfolding of his inner forces can rise above himself. But this can occur only because the greatest impulse and innermost source of Christianity is still so little understood.
Spiritual Science should be the instrument for penetrating ever more deeply into the concepts and outlook of Christianity. And precisely the idea of evolution, to which Spiritual Science does full justice, will be able to lead men to an intimate grasp of Christianity. Spiritual Science can therefore cherish the hope that a rightly understood Christianity will stand out ever more clearly from all misinterpretations of it, without transplanting Buddhism into our time. Any attempt to do this would indeed be shortsighted, for anyone who understands the circumstances of spiritual life in Europe will know that even those movements which are apparently opposed to Christianity have drawn their whole armoury of weapons from Christianity itself. There could have been no Darwin or Haeckel61Cf. Rudolf Steiner, The Riddles of Philosophy—grotesque as this sounds—if a Christian education had not made it possible for them to think as they thought; if the forms of thought had not been ready for those who, after a Christian education, use them to attack, so to speak, their own mother. What these people say, and the tone of voice in which they say it, are often apparently directed against Christianity, but it is Christian education that enables them to think in this way. It would be unpromising, to say the least, for anyone to try to graft something Oriental into our culture, for it would contradict all the conditions of spiritual life in the West. All we need to do is to get a clear grasp of the fundamental teachings of the two religions.
A more exact study of contemporary spiritual life will indeed bring out such a lack of clarity within it, that men of the highest philosophical eminence are impelled to reject life and are thus moved to sympathy with the thoughts of Buddhism. We have an example of this in Schopenhauer:62See note 35. the whole temper of his life had something Buddhistic about it. For example, he says that the highest type of man is he whom we may call a “saint”; a man who in his life has overcome everything that the outer world can offer. He merely exists in his body, deriving no ideals from the world around him; he has no aim or purpose, but simply waits for the time when his body will be destroyed, so that every trace of his connection with the sense-world will have vanished. By turning away from the sense-world he nullifies his own sense-life, so that nothing may remain of all that leads in life from fear to suffering, from suffering to terror, from passion to pain.
This is a projection of Buddhist feeling into the West, and we must recognise that it comes about because the deepest impulse in Christianity is not clearly understood. What have we gained through Christianity? From the purest form of the Christian impulse we have gained precisely what separates Schopenhauer decisively from one of the most significant personalities of recent times. While Schopenhauer's ideal is a man who has overcome everything that external life can give him by way of pleasure and pain, and waits only for the last traces holding his body together to be dissolved, Goethe sets before us in his Faust a striving character who passes from desire to satisfaction and from satisfaction, to desire, until finally he has purified himself and transformed his desires to such a degree that the holiest element that can illuminate our life becomes his passion. He does not stand and wait until the last traces of his earthly existence are extinguished, but speaks the great words: “Not in aeons will the trace of my days on earth pass away.”63Faust II, 11. 1 1583/4.
The sense and spirit of all this is presented by Goethe in his Faust just as in old age he described it to his secretary, Eckermann:64Johann Peter Eckermann, Conversations with Goethe in the Last Years of his Life, conversation of 6th June 1831. “For the rest you will admit, that the closing passage, when the redeemed soul is borne aloft, was very difficult to manage. With such super-sensible, hardly imaginable things I could easily have lost myself in vagueness if I had not made use of clearly outlined figures and images from the Christian Church to give the requisite form and substance to my poetic intentions.”
So it is that Faust climbs the ladder of existence, represented in Christian symbols, from mortal to immortal, from death to life.
We see in Schopenhauer the unmistakeable projection of Buddhist elements into our western way of thinking, so that his ideal man waits to reach the state of perfection until the last traces of his earth existence have been erased, together with his body. And this vision, Schopenhauer believes, can interpret the figures created by Raphael and Correggio in their paintings. Goethe wished to set before us a man who strives towards a goal, well aware that whatever is achieved in earthly life must be enduring, interwoven with eternity. “Not in aeons will the trace of my days on earth pass away.”
That is the true, realistic Christian impulse, which leads to the reawakening of our earthly deeds in a spiritualised form. That is the religion of resurrection. It is also a realistic philosophy in the true sense, for it knows how to draw down from spiritual heights the loftiest elements for our life in the world of the senses. Thus we can see in Goethe, like a dawning glow, the Christianity of the future, which has learnt to understand itself. This Christianity will recognise all the greatness and significance of Buddhism, but, by contrast with the Buddhist turning away from incarnations, it will recognise the value of each existence from one incarnation to the next. Thus Goethe, in a truly modern Christian sense, looks at a past which brought us to birth out of a world, and at present in which whatever we achieve—if only its fruits are rightly grasped—can never pass away. When, therefore, he links man to the universal in the true spiritual-scientific sense, he cannot but join him on the other side to the true content of Christianity. Thus in his Urworte-Orphisch he says:
As on the day that lent thee earthly being,
The Sun took salutation from the planets,
So didst thou start thy course and so hast sped it,
According to the law of thy first sending.
So must thou be: thyself thou canst not flee from.
Thus have the Sibyls, thus the prophets, spoken.
Goethe could not write in this way, describing the connection of man with the whole world, without indicating that the human being, born out of the constellations of existence, is in the world as something that can never pass away but must celebrate its resurrection in spiritualised form. Hence to these lines he added two more:
No time, no power, can bring to dissolution
The form once cast in living evolution.
And we can say: No time and no power can destroy what is achieved in time and ripens as fruit for eternity.
Buddha und Christus
Seit ihrem Bestehen hängt es der geisteswissenschaftlichen Bewegung an, daß sie verwechselt wird mit mancherlei anderen Tendenzen und Bestrebungen der Gegenwart. So hängt es ihr insbesondere an, daß sie geziehen wird, irgendwelche orientalische Geistesströmungen, namentlich die buddhistische Geistesströmung in die Kultur des Abendlandes verpflanzen zu wollen. Daher muß die Geistesforschung besonders das heutige Thema interessieren, das Betrachtungen anstellen will über die Bedeutung der Buddha-Religion auf der einen Seite und die des Christentums auf der anderen Seite, und zwar von dem Gesichtspunkt aus, wie er sich für eine geisteswissenschaftliche Betrachtung ergibt. Diejenigen der verehrten Zuhörer, die schon öfter hier an diesen Vorträgen teilgenommen haben, werden wissen, daß es sich hier handelt um eine im wissenschaftlichen Sinne gehaltene, weit ausgreifende Betrachtung über die Welterscheinungen vom Gesichtspunkte des Geisteslebens aus.
Wer sich nun ein wenig mit dem Wesen des Buddhismus befaßt hat, wird seinerseits wissen, wie der Stifter des Buddhismus, der Gotama Buddha, eigentlich immer alle die Fragen abgelehnt hat, die sich auf die Entwikkelung der Welt und auf die Grundlagen unseres Daseins beziehen; wie er nicht darüber sprechen wollte. Und wie er einzig und allein sprechen wollte über dasjenige, wodurch der Mensch zu einem in sich befriedigenden Dasein kommen könne. So wird man schon von diesem Gesichtspunkt aus die Geisteswissenschaft oder Theosophie, da sie durchaus nicht ablehnt, über die Quellen des Weltendaseins, über die großen Entwickelungstatsachen zu sprechen, nicht einseitig mit dem Buddhismus verwechseln dürfen. Und wenn eine ganz bestimmte Anschauung innerhalb der Geisteswissenschaft immer mehr und mehr mit dem Buddhismus zusammengeworfen wird, nämlich die Anschauung von den wiederholten Erdenleben des Menschen und von dem, was als geistige Verursachung von früheren Erdenleben in spätere Erdenleben hinüberzieht, so darf ohne weiteres gesagt werden: Es ist sonderbar, wenn der Geisteswissenschaft der Vorwurf gemacht wird, diese Anschauung von der Wiederverkörperung des Menschen, von den wiederholten Erdenleben, sei Buddhismus. Es ist deshalb sonderbar, weil man doch endlich begreifen sollte, daß es der Geisteswissenschaft nicht darum zu tun ist, sich zu diesem oder jenem Namen zu bekennen, sondern um das, was als Wahrheit erforschbar ist, ganz unabhängig von jeglichen Namen in unserer Zeit. Wenn aber doch die Lehre von der Wiederverkörperung der Menschen oder den wiederholten Erdenleben auch unter den Anschauungen des Gotama Buddha zu finden ist, wenn auch in ganz anderer Form, so ist das für die Theosophie oder Geisteswissenschaft der heutigen Zeit nichts anderes, als wenn unsere elementaren Lehren über Geometrie bei Euklid zu finden sind. Und ebensowenig wie einem Lehrer der Geometrie der Vorwurf gemacht werden darf, daß er «Euklidismus» treibe, ebensowenig sollte der Geisteswissenschaft, wenn sie eine Lehre wie die von der Wiederverkörperung zu der ihrigen macht, deshalb der Vorwurf des Buddhismus gemacht werden, weil bei Buddha ähnliche Anschauungen zu finden sind. Aber es ist dennoch notwendig, darauf hinzuweisen, daß gerade Geisteswissenschaft ein Instrument ist, um eine jegliche Religion — also auf der einen Seite auch die, welche unserer europäischen Kultur zugrunde liegt, das Christentum, und auf der andern Seite das buddhistische Bekenntnis -— nach den Quellen im geisteswissenschaftlichen Sinne zu prüfen.
Daß Geisteswissenschaft «Buddhismus» sein wolle, das ist ja nicht nur ein von Nichtkennern der Theosophie heut gemachter Vorwurf; sondern es ist das etwas, was zum Beispiel auch der große Orientalist, der um die orientalischen Religionsbekenntnisse und ihr Bekanntwerden in Europa verdienstvolle Max Müller sich durchaus nicht ausreden ließ; und gegenüber einem Schriftsteller hat er einmal darüber eine Bezeichnung gewählt, die er in einem Gleichnis zum Ausdruck brachte. Er sagte: Wenn ein Mensch irgendwo auftreten würde mit einem Schwein, das gut grunzen kann, so würde kein Mensch deswegen hinzulaufen und etwas besonderes daran finden, daß ein Mensch herumgeht mit einem gut grunzenden Schwein. Wenn aber ein Mensch allein auftreten würde, der das Grunzen des Schweins täuschend nachahmen kann, da würden dann die Leute herbeilaufen und das als ein besonderes Wunder anschauen! Max Müller wählt dieses Beispiel, weil er mit dem Schwein, das seiner Natur nach grunzt, den wirklichen Buddhismus bezeichnen wollte, der auch in Europa bekannt geworden ist. Um diese wirkliche Lehre des Buddhismus, so meint er, kümmere sich kein Mensch in Europa; während der falsche Buddhismus oder, wie er sagt, «der theosophische Schwindel der Frau Blavatsky» überall Zuspruch fände, wo es nur möglich sei. - Man kann dieses Gleichnis eigentlich nicht besonders glücklich finden; aber abgesehen davon, daß es nicht glücklich genannt werden kann, die echte Lehre des Buddhismus, die auf so mühevolle Weise zustande gekommen ist, in dieser Weise verglichen zu sehen, will ja auch Max Müller damit sagen, daß Frau Blavatsky den Buddhismus gerade in schlechter Weise dargestellt hat. Also es läßt sich auch wieder nicht damit vergleichen, daß es einem Menschen in täuschender Weise gelungen sei, das Grunzen des Schweines gut nachzuahmen; denn in diesem Falle müßte man ja annehmen, daß es eben der Madame Blavatsky besonders gut gelungen sei, das Grunzen des Schweines nachzuahmen. Und das werden auch heute von den verständigen Theosophen die wenigsten glauben wollen, daß Frau Blavatsky, der man als Verdienst anrechnen muß, daß sie den Stein ins Rollen gebracht hat, glücklich das wiedergegeben hat, was echter und wahrer Buddhismus ist. Aber das ist auch gar nicht nötig. Ebensowenig wie jemand, der Geometrie treiben will, den Euklid gut wiedergeben muß, ebensowenig hat er es nötig, dem wirklichen Sinne nach Buddhismus zu treiben, wenn er Theosophie lehren will.
Wenn wir im Sinne der Geisteswissenschaft uns nun hineinvertiefen wollen in den Geist des Buddhismus, um ihn dann vergleichen zu können mit dem Geist des Christentums, so tun wir am besten, wenn wir nicht gleich auf die großen Lehren gehen, welche ja leicht in dieser oder jener Weise interpretiert werden können, sondern wenn wir versuchen, uns an den Symptomen eine Vorstellung der Tragweite und der Bedeutung des Buddhismus zu verschaffen - also an dem, was wirksam ist in der Vorstellungsweise und in der ganzen Denkungsart des Buddhismus. Da kommen wir am besten zurecht, wenn wir uns an eine innerhalb des buddhistischen Bekenntnisses sehr angesehene Schrift halten: das sind die Fragen des Königs Milinda an den buddhistischen Weisen Nagasena.
Da werden wir zunächst an ein Gespräch erinnert, welches so recht aus dem Innern heraus uns den Geist buddhistischer Denkungsweise geben kann. Da will der mächtige, der geistvolle König Milinda Fragen stellen an den buddhistischen Weisen Nagasena. Er, der König Milinda, der niemals von einem Weisen besiegt worden ist, denn er wußte immer dasjenige zurückzuweisen, was man seinen Anschauungen entgegengestellt hat, will sich mit dem buddhistischen Weisen Nagasena unterhalten über die Bedeutung des Ewigen, des Unsterblichen in der Menschennatur; über das, was sich von Verkörperung zu Verkörperung hinüberzieht.
Nagasena fragt den König Milinda: Wie bist du hierher gekommen, zu Fuß oder im Wagen? — Im Wagen. Nun wollen wir einmal untersuchen, meint Nagasena, was der Wagen ist. Ist die Deichsel der Wagen? — Nein. — Ist das Rad der Wagen? — Nein. — Ist das Joch der Wagen? — Nein. — Ist der Sitz, worauf du gesessen hast, der Wagen? - Nein. — Und so, meint Nagasena, kann man alle Teile des Wagens durchgehen; alle Teile sind nicht der Wagen. Dennoch ist alles, was wir da vor uns haben, der Wagen, nur aus einzelnen Teilen zusammengesetzt; das ist nur ein «Name» für das, was aus den Teilen zusammengesetzt ist. Sehen wir von den Teilen ab, so haben wir eigentlich nichts anderes als nur einen Namen!
Der Sinn und der Zweck dessen, was Nagasena hier dem König vorbringen will, ist der: abzulenken den Blick von dem, worauf das Auge ruhen kann in der physisch-sinnlichen Welt. Er will zeigen, daß eigentlich nichts in der physischen Welt dasjenige ausmacht, was mit dem «Namen» irgendeines Zusammenhanges bezeichnet wird, um so die Wertlosigkeit und Bedeutungslosigkeit des Physisch-Sinnlichen in seinen Teilen darzulegen. Und um den ganzen Gebrauch dieses Gleichnisses klarzumachen, meint Nagasena: So ist es auch mit dem, was den Menschen zusammenfaßt, und was sich von Erdenleben zu Erdenleben hinüberzieht. Sind Hände und Beine und Kopf dasjenige, was von Erdenleben zu Erdenleben geht? Nein! Was du heute tust, und was du morgen tust, ist das dasjenige, was von Erdenleben zu Erdenleben geht? Nein! Was ist es also, was wir zusammenfassen an einem Menschen? Name und Form ist es! Aber damit ist es so, wie mit Namen und Form des Wagens. Wenn wir die einzelnen Teile zusammenfassen, haben wir nur einen Namen. Wir haben nichts Besonderes außer den Teilen!
Und um das noch besonders anschaulich zu machen, können wir auf ein anderes Gleichnis unsere Aufmerksamkeit lenken, das wiederum der Weise Nagasena entwickelte vor dem König Milinda. — Da sagt der König Milinda: Du sagst, weiser Nagasena, daß sich von einer Verkörperung in die andere hinüberlebt Name und Form dessen, was als Mensch vor mir steht. Ist es nun der Name und die Form desselben Wesens, die wiedererscheinen in einer neuen Verkörperung, in einem neuen Erdenleben? Da sagte ihm Nagasena: Siehe einmal, der Mangobaum trägt eine Frucht. Es kommt ein Dieb, der stiehlt diese Frucht. Der Eigentümer des Mangobaumes sagt: «Du hast mir meine Frucht gestohlen!» Der Dieb aber erwidert: «Das ist nicht deine Frucht! Deine Frucht war das, was du in die Erde hineingesenkt hast — das hat sich aufgelöst. Was aber auf dem Mangobaum wächst, das trägt nur denselben Namen, das ist nicht deine Frucht!» — Da meinte Nagasena: Es ist wahr, es trägt denselben Namen und dieselbe Form; es ist nicht dieselbe Frucht. Aber deshalb kann man den Dieb doch bestrafen, wenn er gestohlen hat! Und so — meinte der Weise — wäre es mit dem, was in einem späteren Erdenleben wiedererscheint gegenüber dem, was in früheren Verkörperungen da war. Es ist so, wie mit der Frucht des Mangobaumes, die in die Erde hineingesenkt worden ist. Aber nur dadurch, daß der Eigentümer die Frucht in die Erde gesenkt hat, ist es möglich, daß die Frucht auf dem Baume wächst. Deshalb muß man die Frucht ansehen als das Eigentum desjenigen Menschen, der die Frucht in die Erde gesenkt har.
So ist es mit dem Menschen, mit den Taten und Schicksalen des neuen Lebens; man muß sie ansehen als die Wirkung und Frucht des vorhergehenden Lebens. Aber was erscheint, ist etwas Neues, wie die Frucht auf dem Mangobaume etwas Neues ist.
So hatte Nagasena das Bestreben, dasjenige aufzulösen, was einmal in einem Erdenleben da ist, um zu zeigen, wie nur die Wirkungen sich hinüberleben in das spätere Erdenleben.
An solchen Dingen kann man sozusagen den ganzen Geist der buddhistischen Lehre besser spüren als an den großen Prinzipien, die in der einen oder der anderen Weise interpretiert werden können. Wenn wir den Geist solcher Gleichnisse auf uns wirken lassen, dann sehen wir anschaulich genug, daß der Buddhist seine Bekenner ablenken will von dem, was als ein einzelnes Ich, als eine bestimmte Persönlichkeit hier als Mensch vor uns steht; und hinweisen will er vor allem darauf, daß dasjenige, was in einer neuen Verkörperung erscheint, zwar die Wirkung dieser Persönlichkeit ist, daß man aber kein Recht habe, von einem einheitlichen Ich im wahren Sinne des Wortes zu sprechen, das sich hinübererstreckt von einem Erdenleben in das andere.
Wenn wir nun herübergehen vom Buddhismus zum Christentum, so können wir, obwohl das Gleichnis nie gewählt worden ist, das Beispiel des Nagasena im christlichen Sinne umschreiben und es etwa in der folgenden Weise gestalten. Wir könnten sagen: Es könnte etwa der König Milinda wieder auferstanden sein, sagen wir als Christ; und es würde sich das Gespräch, wenn der Geist des Christentums darinnen waltete, in folgender Weise abspielen müssen. Nagasena müßte sagen: Sieh hier die Hand! Ist die Hand der Mensch? Nein! Die Hand ist nicht der Mensch. Denn wenn nur eine Hand da wäre, wäre kein Mensch da. Wenn wir aber die Hand abschneiden vom Menschen, dann verdorrt sie und würde in drei Wochen keine Hand mehr sein. Wodurch also ist die Hand eine Hand? Durch den Menschen ist sie eine Hand! - Ist das Herz der Mensch? Nein! Ist das Herz irgend etwas für sich Bestehendes? Nein! Denn wenn wir das Herz aus dem Menschen entfernen, so ist das Herz bald kein Herz mehr - und der Mensch kein Mensch mehr. Also durch den Menschen ist das Herz ein Herz, und durch das Herz ist der Mensch ein Mensch. Und umgekehrt ist der Mensch nur dadurch auf der Erde ein Mensch, daß er das Herz als ein Instrument besitzt! So haben wir im lebendigen Organismus des Menschen Teile, die als Teile nichts sind, die nur in unserer Zusammensetzung etwas sind. Und wenn wir uns überlegen, was die einzelnen Teile nicht sind, so sehen wir, daß wir zurückkommen müssen auf etwas, das unsichtbar hinter ihnen waltet, was sie zusammenhält, was sich ihrer als Instrumente bedient, die es gebraucht. Und wenn wir auch alle einzelnen Teile ins Auge fassen können, so haben wir den Menschen nicht erfaßt, wenn wir ihn bloß als Zusammenfassung der einzelnen Teile betrachten. Und nun könnte Nagasena zurückblicken auf das Gleichnis mit dem Wagen und könnte jetzt — allerdings aus dem christlichen Geiste heraus gesprochen — sagen: Wahr ist es, die Deichsel ist nicht der Wagen; denn mit der Deichsel kannst du ja nicht fahren. Wahr ist es, die Räder sind nicht der Wagen; denn mit den Rädern kannst du ja nicht fahren. Wahr ist es, das Joch ist nicht der Wagen; denn mit dem Joch kannst du ja nicht fahren. Wahr ist es, der Sitz ist nicht der Wagen; denn mit dem Sitz kannst du ja nicht fahren! Ob zwar der Wagen nur ein Name ist für die zusammengesetzten Teile, so fährst du doch nicht mit den Teilen, mit denen du nicht fahren kannst, sondern du fährst mit etwas, was nicht die Teile sind. Mit dem «Namen» ist doch etwas Besonderes gemeint! Da werden wir zu etwas geführt, was in keinem der Teile ist!
Daher geht das Bestreben des buddhistischen Geistes dahin, sozusagen von dem, was man sieht, den Blick abzulenken, um hinauszukommen über das, was man sieht; und man verneint die Möglichkeit, in diesem Gesehenen etwas Besonderes zu haben. — Der Geist der christlichen Denkweise — und auf die kommt es uns an — sieht die einzelnen Teile eines Wagens oder auch eines anderen äußeren Gegenstandes so an, daß überall hingewiesen wird von den Teilen auf das, was das Ganze ist. Und weil die Denkweise und Vorstellungsart so ist — und darauf kommt es an -, deshalb sehen wir, daß aus der buddhistischen Anschauungsweise eine ganz besondere Konsequenz, und aus der christlichen Denkweise wiederum eine ganz besondere Konsequenz erwächst. Die Konsequenz aus der buddhistischen Anschauungsweise zeigt sich, wenn ich das, was ich jetzt angedeutet habe, einfach bis ans Ziel hin verfolge:
Ein Mensch steht vor uns. Er ist zusammengesetzt aus gewissen Teilen. Dieser Mensch handelt in der Welt. Er begeht diese oder jene Taten. Indem er so als Mensch vor uns steht, wird ihm aus seinem buddhistischen Bekenntnisse die Wertlosigkeit alles dessen gezeigt, was da ist. Es wird ihm gezeigt, die Nichtigkeit und Seinslosigkeit dessen, was da ist. Und er wird darauf hingewiesen, daß er sich frei machen soll von dem Hängen an dem Nichtigen, um zu einem wirklichen, zu einem höheren Dasein zu kommen; daß er den Blick ablenken soll von dem, worauf das Auge ruht, und was sich irgendein menschliches Erkenntnisvermögen an der Sinnenwelt erwerben kann. Weg von der Sinnenwelt! Denn das, was da geboten wird, wenn wir es nur zusammenfassen als Name und Form, zeigt sich in seiner Nichtigkeit. Keine Wahrheit ist in dem, was in der Sinnenwelt vor uns steht!
Wozu führt die christliche Vorstellungsart? Sie betrachtet den einzelnen Teil nicht als einzelnen Teil; sie betrachtet ihn so, daß in ihm ein Ganzes, ein einheitliches Reales waltet. Sie betrachtet die Hand so, daß sie nur dadurch die Hand ist, daß der Mensch sie gebraucht, daß der Mensch sie zur Hand macht. Hier ist das, was vor dem Auge steht, ein Etwas, das unmittelbar hinweist auf das, was hinter ihm steht. Daher folgt aus dieser Denkweise etwas ganz anderes als aus der buddhistischen Denkweise.
Es folgt daraus, daß wir sagen können: Hier steht ein Mensch vor uns. Was er ist als Mensch mit seinen Teilen, mit seinen Taten, das kann er nur dadurch sein, daß hinter alledem eine geistige Wesenheit als Mensch steht, welche dasjenige macht und bewirkt, was er tut; die sowohl die einzelnen Teile bewegt, wie sie die einzelnen Taten vollbringt. Was sich in den Teilen zeigt und sich auslebt, das hat sich hineinergossen in dasjenige, was man sieht; das wird in dem, was man sieht, Früchte erleben, Resultate erleben, und aus einem Erlebnis in der Sinnenwelt etwas heraussaugen, was wir ein «Ergebnis» nennen können, und es selber hineintragen in eine folgende Verkörperung, in ein folgendes Leben. Da steht hinter allem Äußeren der Akteur, das Tätige, was nicht die äußere Welt zurückweist, sondern was die äußere Welt so handhabt, daß die Früchte aus ihr gesogen und in das nächste Leben hineingetragen werden.
Wenn wir als Bekenner der Geisteswissenschaft auf dem Boden der wiederholten Erdenleben stehen, so müssen wir sagen: Was den Menschen zusammenhält in einem Erdenleben, das hat für den Buddhismus keinen Bestand; nur seine Taten haben Wirkungen für das nächste Leben. Was für das Christentum den Menschen zusammenhält in einem Erdenleben, das ist ein volles Ich. Das hat Bestand. Das trägt selbst in das folgende Erdenleben hinüber all die Früchte dieses einen Lebens.
So sehen wir, daß eine ganz bestimmte Konfiguration des Denkens, auf die es viel mehr ankommt als auf Theorien und Prinzipien, diese beiden Weltanschauungen ganz gewaltig unterscheidet. Würde unsere Zeit nicht besonders dazu neigen, bei allem nur auf Theorien zu sehen, so würde man das Charakteristische einer Geistesrichtung leichter erfassen aus ihrer Vorstellungsart heraus, aus den Symptomen.
Mit dem, was gesagt worden ist, hängt auch das allerletzte zusammen, was uns auf der einen Seite in der buddhistischen, auf der anderen Seite in der christlichen Denkungsweise erscheint. Da haben wir in der buddhistischen Denkungsweise mit ungeheuer bedeutungsvollen Worten den Kern der Lehre durch den Stifter des Buddhismus selber ausgesprochen. Der heutige Vortrag wird wahrhaftig nicht dazu gehalten, um etwa irgend etwas Gegnerisches zu entwickeln gegen den großen Stifter der buddhistischen Weltanschauung; sondern es soll die buddhistische Weltanschauung in ganz objektiver Weise charakterisiert werden. Gerade die Geisteswissenschaft muß sich als das richtige Instrument erweisen, um ohne Sympathie oder Antipathie für dieses oder jenes in den Kern der verschiedenen Geistesströmungen der Welt einzudringen.
Die Buddha-Legende erzählt da deutlich genug, wenn auch in bildhafter Form, was der Stifter des Buddhismus wollte. Da wird erzählt, daß der Gotama Buddha geboren wurde als der Sohn des Königs Suddhodana, daß er in einem fürstlichen Palaste erzogen wurde, wo er nur umgeben war von dem, was das Menschenleben zu erhöhen vermag. Nichts lernte er in seiner Jugend kennen von Menschenleid und Menschenschmerz; umgeben war er nur von Glück, Freude und Zerstreuung. Da wird uns dann erzählt, wie er einmal den königlichen Palast verließ und wie ihm da Leiden und Schmerzen, alle die Schattenseiten des Lebens zum ersten Male entgegentraten. Da sah er einen siechen, kranken Menschen, da sah er einen alten, dahinwelkenden Greis, und vor allem sah er einen Leichnam. Und daraus bildete er sich die Anschauung, daß es wohl anders um das Leben stehen müsse, als es sich ihm bisher drinnen im fürstlichen Palast gezeigt hatte, wo er nur die Freuden des Lebens zu sehen bekam, nie aber Krankheit und Tod gesehen hatte; wo er nie die Anschauung gewonnen hat, daß das Leben hinwelken und sterben könne. Und aus dem, was er jetzt kennengelernt hatte, bildete er sich die Anschauung, daß das wahre Leben in sich schließe Leiden und Schmerzen. Schwer lastete es auf der großen Seele des Buddha, daß das Leben in sich enthält Leiden und Schmerzen, wie sie sich ihm darstellten in dem Kranken, in dem Greis und in dem Leichnam.
Denn er sagte sich: Was ist das Leben wert, wie es sich mir dargestellt hat, wenn ihm eingeboren ist Alter, Krankheit und Tod! Und daraus entstand dann die monumentale Lehre des Buddha von den Leiden des Lebens, die er in die Worte zusammenfaßte: Geburt ist Leiden! Alter ist Leiden! Krankheit ist Leiden! Tod ist Leiden! Alles Dasein ist erfüllt von Leiden. Daß wir mit dem, was wir lieben — so führte Buddha selbst später diese Lehre weiter aus -, nicht immer vereint sein können, ist Leiden! Daß wir vereint sein müssen mit dem, was wir nicht lieben, ist Leiden! Daß wir nicht erhalten können in jeder Lebenslage, was wir wollen, was wir begehren, ist Leiden! $o ist Leiden überall, wohin wir den Blick lenken. Wenn auch das Wort «Leiden» bei Buddha nicht so gemeint ist, wie es in unserer Zeit seinen Sinn hat, so ist doch das damit gemeint, daß der Mensch überall dem preisgegeben ist, was von außen gegen ihn anstürmt, wogegen er keine aktiven Kräfte entfalten kann. Leben ist Leiden. Deshalb muß man untersuchen, sagte Buddha, welches die Ursachen des Leidens sind.
Da bot sich ihm die Erscheinung in der Seele dar, die er bezeichnete mit dem «Durst nach Dasein», mit dem «Durst nach Existenz» überhaupt. Wenn überall, wo wir hinblicken, Leiden in der Welt ist, so müssen wir sagen: Den Menschen muß Leiden befallen, wenn er in diese Welt des Leidens hineintritt. Was ist die Ursache, daß der Mensch leiden muß? Die Ursache ist, daß er einen Trieb, einen Durst nach Verkörperung in diese Welt hat. Die Leidenschaft, aus der geistigen Welt heraus in eine physische Körperlichkeit zu treten, die äußere Welt des Physischen wahrzunehmen: darinnen liegt der Grund für das Menschendasein. Daher gibt es nur eine Erlösung vom Leiden, nämlich die: den Durst nach Dasein zu bekämpfen. Und den Durst nach Dasein kann man bekämpfen, wenn man im Sinne des großen Buddha in sich entwickelt den sogenannten «achtgliedrigen Pfad», der ja gewöhnlich dadurch erklärt wird, daß man sagt, er bestünde in der rechten Einsicht, im rechten Ziel, rechten Wort, rechter Tat, rechten Leben, rechten Streben, rechten Gedanken und im rechten Sich-Versenken. Also in dem richtigen Erfassen des Lebens, in dem richtigen Sich-Hinstellen in das Leben ergibt sich uns nach dem großen Buddha etwas, was nach und nach den Menschen dazu führt, die Leidenschaft nach dem Dasein in sich zu ertöten, was ihn so weit bringt, endlich nicht mehr herabsteigen zu müssen zu einer physischen Verkörperung, was ihn erlöst von einem Dasein, wo Leiden ausgegossen ist überall. Das sind im Sinne des großen Buddha die «vier heiligen Wahrheiten»:
Erstens: die Erkenntnis des Leidens;
zweitens: die Erkenntnis der Ursachen des Leidens;
drittens: die Erkenntnis der Notwendigkeit der Auf hebung des Leidens;
viertens: die Erkenntnis der Mittel zu der Aufhebung des Leidens.
Das sind jene vier heiligen Wahrheiten, welche er, nachdem seine Erleuchtung unter dem Bodhibaum eingetreten war, verkündet hat in der großen Predigt zu Benares im 5. bis 6. Jahrhundert vor unserer Zeitrechnung.
«Erlösung von den Leiden des Daseins!» das ist es, was der Buddhismus vor allem in den Vordergrund stellt. Das macht ihn zu dem, wodurch man ihn bezeichnen kann als eine «Erlösungsreligion» im eminentesten Sinne des Wortes, eine Religion der Erlösung von den Leiden des Daseins, und weil mit allem Dasein Leid verknüpft ist, von dem Dasein, das heißt, von dem Verlauf der Wiedergeburten des Menschen überhaupt!
Das ist ganz im Einklange mit der im ersten Teile des heutigen Vortrages angezeigten Vorstellungsart. Denn wenn schon der Gedanke, der sich an die äußere Sinnenwelt heftet, nur Nichtigkeit erblickt, wenn ihm das, was die einzelnen Teile zusammensetzt, nur Name und Form ist, wenn nichts hinübergeht, was die Wirkungen der einen Verkörperung in das nächste Leben hinüberführt, dann können wir sagen, daß das «wahre Dasein» erst errungen werden kann, wenn der Mensch über alles hinauskommt, was er in der äußeren Sinneswelt findet.
Es ist nun nicht richtig, und das könnte eine jede einfache Betrachtungsweise zeigen, wenn man das Christentum in demselben Sinne eine «Erlösungsreligion» nennen wollte wie den Buddhismus. Wenn man das Christentum von diesem Gesichtspunkt aus in der richtigen Weise neben den Buddhismus stellen will, so könnte man es eine «Religion der Wiedergeburt» nennen. Denn das Christentum geht aus von der Erkenntnis, daß alles, was in dem einzelnen Leben eines Menschen vor uns steht, Früchte ergibt, welche für die innerste Wesenheit des Menschen wichtig und wert sind, und die hinübergetragen werden vom Menschen in ein neues Leben und dort auf einer höheren Vollkommenheitsstufe ausgelebt werden. Alles, was wir erleben und heraussaugen aus den einzelnen Leben, das erscheint immer wieder, das wird immer vollkommener und vollkommener und erscheint zuletzt in seiner vergeistigten Gestalt. Das scheinbar Nichtigste in unserem Dasein wird, wenn es aufgenommen ist von dem Geistigen, auferweckt auf einer vollkommeneren Stufe, wird dem Geistigen einverleibt. Nichts ist nichtig im Dasein, weil es wieder aufersteht, wenn es der Geist in die richtige Form gebracht hat. Eine Religion der Wiedergeburt, der Auferstehung des Besten, was wir erlebt haben, das ist das Christentum nach seiner Denkweise, wonach alles, was vor uns steht, nicht ein Nichtiges ist, sondern Bausteine, um das große Gebäude zu erbauen, das entstehen soll durch die Zusammenfügung alles dessen, was wir in der Sinnenwelt Geistiges vor uns haben. Eine Religion der Erlösung vom Dasein ist der Buddhismus, während im Gegensatz dazu das Christentum eine Religion der Wiedergeburt auf geistiger Stufe ist.
Das zeigt sich uns in der Denkweise im kleinsten wie im größten und in seinen letzten Prinzipien. Und wenn wir die eigentlichen Ursachen für diese Verschiedenheit suchen, dann können wir sagen: Sie liegen in dem ganz entgegengesetzten Charakter der orientalischen und unserer abendländischen Kultur. Es ist ein radikaler Unterschied in bezug auf die Vorstellungsart jener Kultur, aus welcher der Buddhismus herausgewachsen ist, und jener Kultur, in welche sich das Christentum hineinergossen hat im Abendlande. Man kann mit einfachen Worten diesen Unterschied bezeichnen. Er liegt darinnen, daß alle eigentlich orientalische Kultur, die noch nicht ihre Befruchtung vom Abendlande aus erfahren hat, ungeschichtlich, unhistorisch ist — daß alle abendländische Kultur historisch, geschichtlich ist. Das ist auch letzten Endes der Unterschied zwischen christlicher und buddhistischer Denkungsart. Christliche Denkungsart ist historisch; sie erkennt an, daß es nicht nur wiederholte Erdenleben gibt, sondern daß es darinnen Geschichte gibt; das heißt, dasjenige, was zunächst auf einer unvollkommeneren Stufe erlebt wird, das kann sich im Laufe der Inkarnationen zu immer vollkommeneren Stufen und höheren Graden hinaufentwickeln. Sieht der Buddhismus die Erlösung von dem Erdendasein in der Erhebung in sein Nirwana, so sieht das Christentum das Ziel seiner Entwickelung darin, daß alle Erzeugnisse und Errungenschaften der einzelnen Erdenleben in immer höheren und höheren Vollkommenheitsgraden erglänzen und vergeistigt ihre Wiederauferstehung erleben am Ende des Erdendaseins.
Ungeschichtlich ist der Buddhismus, ganz im Sinne des Kulturbodens, auf dem er erwachsen ist. Ungeschichtlich ist er dadurch, daß er der Außenwelt entgegenstellt und ihr einfach gegenübersetzt den Menschen, wie er in ihr handelt. Der buddhistische Bekenner sagt: Blicken wir zurück auf frühere Verkörperungen des Menschen, blicken wir hin auf spätere Verkörperungen des Menschen: der Mensch steht dieser Außenwelt entgegen. Er fragt nicht: Stand vielleicht der Mensch in früheren Zeiten der Außenwelt anders gegenüber, oder wird er ihr vielleicht in der Zukunft anders gegenüberstehen? Das aber fragt das Christentum. Daher kommt der Buddhismus zu der Anschauung, daß das Verhältnis des Menschen zu der Welt, in welche er hineinverkörpert ist, ein immer gleichbleibendes ist; daß der Mensch, wenn er durch den Durst nach Dasein getrieben wird und sich in eine Verkörperung hineinbegibt, in eine Welt des Leidens hineinkommt, gleichgültig ob sie den Menschen in der Vergangenheit zum Durst nach Dasein getrieben hat, oder ob sie ihn jetzt dazu treibt. Immer ist es das Leiden, das die äußere Welt ihm bringen muß. $o wiederholen sich die Erdenleben, ohne daß der Begriff der Entwickelung in Wahrheit zu einem geschichtlichen gemacht wird im Buddhismus. Das wird uns auch anschaulich und erklärlich machen, daß der Buddhismus im Grunde genommen nur in der Abkehr von diesen ewig sich wiederholenden Erdenleben sein Nirwana, seinen glückseligen Zustand sehen kann. Und so wird es uns weiter erklärlich sein, daß der Buddhismus in der äußeren Welt selber die Quellen des Leidens sehen muß. Er sagt: Begibst du dich überhaupt in die Sinneswelt, so mußt du leiden; denn aus der Sinneswelt muß dir Leiden kommen!
Das ist nicht christlich. Die christliche Anschauung ist durchaus historisch und geschichtlich. Sie fragt nicht einfach nach dem zeitlosen und geschichtslosen Gegenüberstehen zur Außenwelt. Sie sagt wohl: Es steht der Mensch, wenn er von Verkörperung zu Verkörperung schreitet, einer Außenwelt gegenüber. Wenn aber diese Außenwelt ihm Leiden bringt, wenn sie ihm etwas darbietet, was ihn nicht befriedigt, was ihn nicht mit einem innerlichen, harmonischen Dasein erfüllt, so rührt das nicht davon her, daß das Dasein im allgemeinen so ist, daß der Mensch leiden muß; sondern es rührt davon her, daß der Mensch sich in ein falsches Verhältnis gebracht hat zu der Außenwelt, daß er sich nicht richtig hineinstellt in die Welt! Auf ein bestimmtes Ereignis weist das Christentum und auch das Alte Testament hin, wodurch der Mensch sich selbst in seinem Innern so entwickelt hat, daß er durch sein Inneres das Dasein in der äußeren Welt zu einem Quell des Leidens machen kann. Also ist es nicht die Außenwelt, nicht das, was uns in die Augen dringt, was uns an die Ohren tönt; nicht die Welt, in die wir hineinverkörpert werden, ist es, was uns Leiden bringt; sondern das Menschengeschlecht hat einstmals in sich selber etwas entwickelt, wodurch es nicht in der richtigen Weise zu dieser Außenwelt in Beziehung steht. Das hat sich dann fortgeerbt von Geschlecht zu Geschlecht, woran die Menschen heute noch zu leiden haben. So könnte man im christlichen Sinne sagen, daß die Menschen von Anfang ihres Erdendaseins an sich nicht in ein richtiges Verhältnis gebracht haben zur Außenwelt.
Das könnten wir nun ausdehnen auf die Grundbekenntnislehre der beiden Religionen. Der Buddhismus wird jederzeit betonen: Die äußere Welt ist eine Maja, eine Illusion! Dagegen wird das Christentum sagen: Wohl ist zunächst das, was der Mensch von der äußeren Welt sieht, etwas, von dem er glaubt, daß es eine Illusion sei; aber das hängt nur vom Menschen ab, der seine Organe so gestaltet hat, daß er vom äußeren Schleier nicht durchblickt auf die geistige Welt. Nicht die Außenwelt selber ist die Täuschung; sondern die menschliche Anschauung ist der Quell der Täuschung. Buddhistisch ist es, zu sagen: Blicke hin auf das, was dich als die Felsen umgibt, was als der Blitz zuckt, es ist Maja oder Illusion! Was als Donner rollt, es ist Maja oder die große Täuschung, denn die Außenwelt, wie sie da ist, ist Maja, die große Täuschung! - Nicht richtig ist es, so würde im Sinne der christlichen Vorstellungsart zu sagen sein, daß die Außenwelt als solche eine Täuschung ist! Sondern der Mensch hat bis heute noch nicht die Möglichkeit gefunden, seine geistigen Sinne — mit Goethes Worten: seine Geistesaugen und Geistesohren - sich zu eröffnen, die ihm zeigen würden, wie die Außenwelt in ihrer wahren Gestalt zu sehen ist! Nicht das ist der Grund, daß wir von Täuschung, von Maja umgeben sind, weil die Außenwelt diese Maja wäre, sondern weil der Mensch ein unvollkommenes Wesen ist, das es noch nicht dahin gebracht hat, die Außenwelt in der wahren Gestalt zu sehen. So sucht das Christentum in einem vorgeschichtlichen Ereignis eine Tatsache, welche das Menschenherz dazu gebracht hat, sich nicht die richtige Anschauung von der Außenwelt zu bilden. Und in der Entwickelung — durch die Verkörperungen hindurch muß man im christlichen Sinne das Wiedererringen dessen sehen, was man Geistesaugen, Geistesohren nennen kann, um die Außenwelt in ihrer wahren Gestalt zu sehen. So sind die wiederholten Erdenleben nicht bedeutungslos, sondern sie sind der Weg dazu, um dasjenige, wovon der Buddhismus die Menschen befreien will, gerade in einem geistigen Lichte zu sehen; um in der Außenwelt den Geist zu sehen. Eroberung der Welt, die uns heute als physisch erscheint, durch das, was der Mensch heute noch nicht hat, was er sich aber erringen soll als ein Geistiges; Überwindung des menschlichen Irrtums, als ob die Außenwelt nur eine Illusion, nur Maja wäre: das ist der innerste Impuls des Christentums.
Daher stellt das Christentum nicht einen Lehrer hin wie der Buddhismus, der da sagt: Die Welt ist ein Quell des Leidens! Heraus aus dieser Welt in eine andere, die ganz anders ist - in eine Welt des Nirwana! Sondern das Christentum stellt als einen mächtigen Impuls, der die Welt vorwärts bringen soll, den Christus hin, der der Welt den stärksten Hinweis gebracht hat auf das menschliche Innere, aus dem der Mensch jene Kräfte entwickeln kann, wodurch er jede Verkörperung, in welcher er auf der Erde lebt, so benutzen kann, daß er die Früchte des einen Daseins zu jedem späteren Dasein durch seine eigene Kraft hinübertragen kann. Nicht sollen die Verkörperungen abgeschlossen werden, um in ein Nirwana zu kommen, sondern es soll alles, was in diesen Verkörperungen aufgenommen werden kann, benutzt werden, um es zu verarbeiten, damit es die Auferstehung im geistigen Sinne erfahren kann.
Das ist der tiefste Unterschied, der auf der einen Seite den Buddhismus zu einer ungeschichtlichen Anschauungsweise macht, und der auf der anderen Seite das Christentum zu einer geschichtlichen Anschauungsweise macht, die in einem «Fall» des Menschen den Quell von Leiden und Schmerzen sucht, in der «Auferstehung» auch wieder die Heilung von Schmerzen und Leiden. Nicht dadurch werdet ihr frei von den Schmerzen und Leiden, daß ihr aus dem Dasein hinausgeht; sondern wenn ihr den Irrtum wieder gut macht, durch welchen der Mensch sich in ein falsches Verhältnis gebracht hat zur Umwelt. In euch liegt der Grund, warum die Außenwelt ein Quell des Leidens ist! Wird euer Verhältnis zur Umwelt richtig, dann werdet ihr sehen, daß die Außenwelt zwar in Wahrheit als Sinnenwelt zerfließt wie Nebel vor der Sonne, daß sie aber alle eure Taten, die ihr in ihr erlebt habt, im Geistigen wieder auferstehen läßt!
Damit ist das Christentum eine Lehre der Wiedergeburt, der Auferstehung, und nur als eine solche darf sie neben den Buddhismus hingestellt werden. Das heißt allerdings: die beiden Bekenntnisse im Sinne der geisteswissenschaftlichen Anschauung gegenüberstellen, auf die tiefsten Impulse der beiden Lehren eingehen!
Bis in alle Einzelheiten kann man das rechtfertigen, was jetzt im allgemeinen gesagt worden ist. Man kann zum Beispiel auch im Buddhismus so etwas finden wie eine «Bergpredigt». Da heißt es:
Derjenige, der das Gesetz hört, das heißt dasjenige, was der Buddha als Gesetz verkündigt, der ist glücklich oder selig. Wer über die Leidenschaften sich erhebt, der ist selig. Wer in der Einsamkeit zu leben vermag, der ist selig. Wer mit den äußeren Kreaturen zu leben vermag, ohne daß er ein Böses tut, der ist selig. Und so weiter.
So könnten wir die buddhistischen Seligpreisungen als ein Gegenstück ansehen zu den Seligpreisungen der «Bergpredigt» im Matthäus-Evangelium. Wir müssen sie nur in der richtigen Weise erfassen. Vergleichen wir sie einmal mit dem, was im Matthäus-Evangelium zu finden ist.
Da hören wir zunächst das gewaltige Wort: «Selig sind die, die da Bettler sind um Geist; denn sie werden in sich finden die Reiche der Himmel.» Da wird nicht nur gesagt: «Selig sind die, die das Gesetz hören»; sondern da wird noch ein Nachsatz hinzugefügt. Es wird gesagt: Selig sind die, welche arm sind an Geist, so daß sie flehen müssen um Geist, «denn ihrer sind die Reiche der Himmel!» Was heißt das? Man versteht einen solchen Satz nur, wenn man sich die ganze geschichtliche Art der Anschauungsweise des Christentums vor die Seele rückt.
Da muß man wiederum darauf hinblicken, daß alle menschliche Seelenfähigkeit eine «Geschichte» erlebt hat, daß sich alle Seelenfähigkeit des Menschen entwikkelt hat. Geisteswissenschaft kennt real und wahrhaftig das Wort «Entwickelung», so daß dasjenige, was heute da ist, nicht immer da war. Die Geisteswissenschaft sagt uns: Was wir heute unseren Verstand, unser wissenschaftliches Denken nennen, das war in Urzeiten der Menschheit nicht vorhanden; dafür aber war in den Urzeiten der Menschheit etwas vorhanden, was man ein dunkles, dämmerhaftes Hellsehen nennen könnte. Auf die Art, wie der Mensch heute zu Erkenntnissen über die Außenwelt kommt, ist er früher nicht dazu gekommen. Früher ist in ihm etwas aufgestiegen wie eine «Urweisheit» der Menschheit, die weit hinausgeht über das, was wir heute schon wieder haben ergründen können. Wer die Geschichte kennt, der weiß, daß es eine solche Urweisheit gibt. Während die Menschen in Urzeiten nicht gewußt haben, wie man Maschinen baut, Eisenbahnen konstruiert und mit Hilfe der Naturkräfte die Umwelt beherrscht, haben sie früher Anschauungen gehabt über die göttlich-geistigen Urgründe der Welt, die weit über unsere heutigen Erkenntnisse hinausgehen.
Diese Anschauungen waren aber nicht durch Nachdenken erworben. Das wäre eine ganz falsche Vorstellung. Man hat nicht so vorgehen können, wie die heutige Wissenschaft vorgehen kann. Wie Eingebungen, die in der Seele aufstiegen, ist es dem Menschen gegeben worden; wie Offenbarungen, Inspirationen in dumpfer, dämmerhafter Art, so daß der Mensch nicht dabei war, als sie in ihm aufstiegen. Aber er konnte erblicken, daß sie da waren; sie waren da als wirkliche Nachbilder der geistigen Welt, der wirklich vorhandenen Urweisheit. — Aber die menschliche Entwickelung bestand darinnen, daß die Menschen von Leben zu Leben fortschritten und immer weniger von dieser Urweisheit hatten, von dem alten dämmerhaften Hellsehen. Denn das sollte ja gerade der Menschheit gebracht werden, daß das alte Hellsehen sich verlor, und an seine Stelle das Erfassen der Dinge durch die Verstandestätigkeit trat. In der Zukunft wird der Mensch beides vereinigen; er wird hellseherisch in die geistige Welt hineinschauen können und gleichzeitig die Formen des heutigen Erkennens in die Zukunft hinein mitbringen. Heute leben wir in einem Zwischenzustand. Das alte Hellsehen ist verlorengegangen, und was dem Menschen heute eigen ist, das ist erst im Laufe der Zeit entstanden. Wodurch ist der Mensch dazu gekommen, von seinem innersten Selbstbewußtsein aus die Sinneswelt mit dem Verstande zu erkennen? Wann tritt insbesondere das Selbstbewußtsein an den Menschen heran?
Das war in der Zeit — so genau wird nur gewöhnlich die Weltentwickelung nicht betrachtet —, in welcher gerade der Christus Jesus in die Welt hineintrat. Da standen die Menschen an einem Wendepunkt der Entwickelung, wo das alte dämmerhafte Hellsehen verlorengegangen, und der Ausgangspunkt gegeben war für das, was heute unsere besten Errungenschaften liefert. Gerade beim Eintreten des Christus in die Menschheitsentwickelung war der Wendepunkt von der alten zur neuen Zeit. Wahrhaftig, der Christus war der Wendepunkt von der alten zur neuen Anschauung! Und es ist einfach ein technischer Ausdruck für diese Errungenschaften, die der Mensch damals erfuhr, als er anfing, durch sein Selbstbewußtsein — nicht mehr durch Eingebungen - die Welt zu erkennen, wenn Johannes der Täufer die Worte verkündet: «Das Himmelreich ist nahe herbeigekommen!» Das heißt, die «Erkenntnis der Welt in Begriffen und Ideen» ist nahe herbeigekommen. Mit anderen Worten: Der Mensch ist nicht mehr angewiesen auf das alte Hellsehen, sondern er wird von sich aus die Welt erkennen und erforschen. Und den mächtigsten Impuls für das, was der Mensch aus seinem Ich heraus - nicht durch Eingebungen - erkennen soll, den hat der Christus Jesus gegeben.
Daher liegt etwas Tiefes schon in diesen ersten Worten der Bergpredigt, etwas, was ungefähr sagen wollte: Die Menschen stehen heut auf dem Standpunkt, daß sie Bettler um Geist sind. Früher haben sie hellseherische Anschauungen gehabt und hineinschauen können in die geistige Welt. Das ist jetzt verlorengegangen. Aber es wird die Zeit kommen, wo der Mensch durch die innere Kraft seines Ich, durch das sich in seinem Innern offenbarende Wort einen Ersatz finden kann für die alte Hellsichtigkeit. — Daher sind «selig» nicht nur diejenigen, welche in alten Zeiten den Geist errungen hatten durch Eingebungen dumpfer, dämmerhafter Art, sondern diejenigen sind selig, welche heute kein Hellsehen mehr haben, weil die Entwickelung dazu geführt hat. Oh, sie sind nicht unselig, die da Bettler sind um Geist, weil sie verarmt sind am Geist. Selig sind sie, denn ihrer ist dasjenige, was sich durch ihr eigenes Ich offenbart, was sie sich durch das Selbstbewußtsein erringen können.
Und sehen wir weiter. «Selig sind die, welche da leiden»; denn wenn auch die sinnliche Außenwelt Leiden verursacht durch die Art, wie sich der Mensch in die Außenwelt hineingestellt hat, so ist doch jetzt die Zeit gekommen, wo der Mensch, wenn er sein Selbstbewußtsein erfassen wird und die in seinem Ich liegenden Kräfte entfaltet, erkennen wird das Heilmittel gegen das Leid. In sich selber wird er die Möglichkeit finden, sich über das Leid zu trösten. Gekommen ist die Zeit, wo ein äußerer Trost seine einzigartige Bedeutung verliert, weil das Ich die Kraft finden soll, von innen heraus das Heilmittel gegen das Leid zu finden. Selig sind die, welche in der Außenwelt alles, was früher darin gefunden wurde, nicht mehr finden können. So ist auch der höchste Sinn der Seligpreisung «Selig sind die, welche nach Gerechtigkeit dürsten; denn sie sollen satt werden»: im Ich selber wird ein Quell gefunden werden, um ausgleichende Gerechtigkeit zu finden für das, was in der Welt ungerecht ist.
So ist der Christus Jesus der Hinweis auf das menschliche Ich, auf den göttlichen Teil im Menschen selber, und damit der Hinweis darauf: Nehmt das, was im Christus als ein Vorbild lebt, in euer Inneres auf; dann findet ihr dadurch die Kraft, von Verkörperung zu Verkörperung die Früchte des Erdendaseins zu tragen. Denn wichtig ist es für das Leben des Menschen in der geistigen Welt, daß der Mensch dasjenige erobere, was im Erdendasein erlebt werden kann.
Daher ist ein Ereignis, das ja zunächst nur als ein schmerzliches genannt werden kann im Christentum, der Tod des Christus Jesus, das Mysterium von Golgatha. Dieser Tod hat ja nicht die gewöhnliche Bedeutung des Todes; sondern der Christus stellt hier den Tod hin als den Ausgangspunkt eines unsterblichen, unbesiegbaren Lebens. Dieser Tod ist nicht bloß so, daß der Christus Jesus sich vom Leben befreien will; sondern dieser Tod wird erlebt, weil von ihm aus eine Wirkung nach aufwärts führt, und weil aus diesem Tode ewiges, unvergängliches Leben fließen soll.
Das ist etwas — so empfanden auch diejenigen, welche in den ersten Jahrhunderten des Christentums lebten -, was immer mehr und mehr erkannt werden wird, wenn das Verständnis des Christus-Impulses ein größeres geworden ist, als es heute ist. Dann wird man verstehen, daß sechs Jahrhunderte vor dem Christus einer der größten Menschen aus seinem Palaste herausgetreten ist, einen Toten, einen Leichnam gesehen hat, sich das Urteil bildete: Der Tod ist Leiden! Befreiung vom Tode ist Erlösung! und daß er nichts zu tun haben wollte mit dem, was dem Tode unterworfen ist. Nun gehen sechs Jahrhunderte bis zum Christus hin. Und nachdem weitere sechs Jahrhunderte vergangen sind, wird ein Symbolum aufgerichtet für das, was die zukünftige Menschheit erst erkennen wird. Was ist dieses Symbolum?
Nicht ein Buddha, nicht ein Auserlesener — nein, naive Menschen gingen hin und sahen das Symbolum: sahen das Kreuz aufgerichtet und einen Leichnam darauf. Und sie sagten nicht: Der Tod ist Leiden! — sie wandten sich nicht ab, sondern sie sahen in diesem Leichnam dasjenige, was ihnen Bürge war für das Ewige des Lebens, für das, was allen Tod besiegt, was hinausweist aus aller Sinneswelt. — Der edle Buddha sah einen Leichnam; er wandte sich ab von der Sinneswelt und kam zu dem Urteil: Der Tod ist Leiden! Diejenigen, welche da als naive Menschen hinsahen zu dem Kreuz mit dem Leichnam, sie wandten sich nicht ab - sie sahen darauf hin, weil es ihnen das Zeugnis dafür war, daß aus diesem Erdentode ewiges Leben quillt!
So sechshundert Jahre vor der Begründung des Christentums der Buddha vor dem Leichnam, so sechshundert Jahre nach dem Erscheinen des Christus die einfachen Leute, die das Symbolum sahen, das ihnen ausdrückte, was durch die Begründung des Christentums geschehen war. Niemals ist ein ähnlicher Umschwung in der Entwickelung der Menschheit vor sich gegangen! Wenn man also die Dinge objektiv erfaßt, kann man sich noch mehr klar sein darüber, worinnen das Große, Bedeutsame des Buddhismus besteht.
Wir haben gesagt: Die Menschen gingen aus von einer Urweisheit, und im Laufe der verschiedenen Inkarnationen ging ihnen diese Urweisheit immer mehr und mehr verloren. Das Auftreten des großen Buddha bedeutet das Ende einer alten Entwickelung; es bedeutet den mächtigen, weltgeschichtlichen Hinweis darauf, daß die Menschen verloren haben das alte Wissen, die alte Urweisheit. Daraus ist dann geschichtlich zu erklären die Abkehr vom Leben. Der Christus ist der Ausgangspunkt einer neuen Entwickelung, welche in diesem Leben die Quellen des Ewigen sieht. — In unserer Zeit ist noch keine Klärung eingetreten in bezug auf diese wichtigen Tatsachen der Menschheitsentwickelung. Daher kann es kommen, weil eben die Dinge noch ungeklärt sind, daß es in unserer Zeit herrliche, edle Naturen gibt, wie der im Jahre 1898 zu Potsdam verstorbene Oberpräsidialrat Theodor Schultze, die, weil sie in der äußeren Anschauung nicht finden können, was sie für ihr reiches Innenleben brauchen, sich zu etwas anderem wenden und eine Erlösung in dem finden, was ihnen der Buddhismus heute sein kann. Und der Buddhismus zeigt ihnen ja in einem gewissen Sinne, wie der Mensch, herausgehoben aus dem Sinnesdasein, durch eine gewisse Entfaltung seiner inneren Kräfte zu einer Erhöhung über sich selbst kommen kann. Das ist aber nur möglich, weil der größte Impuls, der innerste Quell des Christentums noch so wenig erfaßt ist.
Die Geisteswissenschaft soll einmal das Instrument sein, um immer tiefer und tiefer in die Vorstellungsart des Christentums hineinzudringen. Und gerade die Entwickelungsidee, welche die Geisteswissenschaft ehrlich nimmt, wird imstande sein, die Menschen hinzuführen zu einem genauen und intimen Erfassen des Christentums, so daß sich die Geisteswissenschaft der Hoffnung hingeben darf, daß gegenüber dem verkannten Christentum das richtig verstandene Christentum sich immer mehr herausarbeiten wird, ohne daß sie den Buddhismus in unsere Zeit hineinverpflanzt. Es wäre eine kurzsichtige Anschauung, wenn irgendeine geisteswissenschaftliche Richtung Buddhismus nach Europa hineinverpflanzen wollte. Wer die Bedingungen des europäischen Geisteslebens kennt, der weiß, daß selbst diejenigen Richtungen, welche heute scheinbar das Christentum bekämpfen, das ganze Arsenal ihrer Waffen aus dem Christentum selber entnommen haben. Kein Darwin, kein Haeckel wäre möglich — so grotesk es klingt -, wenn es nicht aus der christlichen Erziehung heraus möglich geworden wäre so zu denken, wie Darwin und Haeckel gedacht haben; wenn nicht die Gedankentormen da wären, mit denen diejenigen, die mit dem Christentum selber erzogen worden sind, sozusagen die eigene Mutter bekämpfen. Was diese Leute sagen, das ist scheinbar oft gegen das Christentum gerichtet. Es ist gegen das Christentum gemeint, so wie sie es sagen. Daß sie aber so denken können, das haben sie aus der christlichen Erziehung heraus. Daher wäre es zum mindesten aussichtslos, wenn es auch jemand wollte, etwas Orientalisches in unsere Kultur hineinzutragen; denn es widerspräche allen Bedingungen unseres Geisteslebens im Abendlande. Man muß sich nur klar sein über die Grundlehren der beiden Religionen.
Wer das Geistesleben genauer betrachtet, der weiß allerdings, daß die Dinge noch so wenig geklärt sind, daß es Geister gibt, die selbst von der höchsten philosophischen Warte herab die Abkehr vom Leben wollen, die sich sympathisch berührt fühlen von den Gedanken des Buddhismus. Eine solche Persönlichkeit haben wir in Schopenhaner vor uns. Sein ganzer Lebensnerv hat etwas, was wir als «buddhistisch» bezeichnen können. So, wenn er zum Beispiel sagt: Das höchste Menschenbild steht dann vor uns, wenn wir dasjenige sehen, was wir einen «Heiligen» nennen, der in seinem Leben alles überwunden hat, was die äußere Welt geben kann; der nur noch in seinem Körper dasteht, nichts mehr in sich birgt als Ideale von der Umwelt; der nichts will, sondern der nur noch darauf wartet, bis sein Körper selber zerstört ist, so daß jede Spur verwischt ist von dem, was ihn mit der Sinnenwelt verknüpft hat, damit er durch die Abkehr von der Sinnenwelt vernichten kann sein Sinnendasein, daß nichts mehr übrig bleibt von dem, was im Leben führt von Furcht zu Leid, von Leid zu Schrecken, von Lust zu Schmerz!
Das ist Hereinragen buddhistischer Empfindung in unser Abendland. Da müssen wir sagen: Gewiß, durch unsere ungeklärten Verhältnisse gibt es das, weil nicht genau verstanden wird, was der tiefste Impuls dessen ist, was im Christentum lebt an Inhalt und an Form. Was haben wir durch das Christentum errungen? Rein auf den Impuls gesehen, haben wir dasjenige errungen, wodurch sich eine der bedeutsamsten Persönlichkeiten gerade in dieser Beziehung so scharf abhebt von Schopenhauer. Wenn Schopenhauer sein Ideal sieht in jemandem, der alles überwunden hat, was ihm das äußere Leben geben kann an Lust und Schmerz, der nur noch wartet, bis die letzten Spuren des Zusammenhanges seines Körpers sich auflösen, so stellt uns dagegen Goethe einen strebenden Menschen hin in seinem «Faust», der von Begierde zu Genuß und von Genuß zu Begierde schreitet, und der sich zuletzt so weit läutert und die Begierden umgestaltet, daß ihm das Heiligste, was in unser Leben hereinleuchten kann, selber zur Leidenschaft wird; der nicht dasteht und sagt: «Ich warte nur noch, bis die letzten Spuren meines Erdendaseins verlöscht sind», sondern der die großen Worte ausspricht: «Es kann die Spur von meinen Erdentagen nicht in Äonen untergehn!»
Das stellt Goethe in seinem Faust dem Sinn und dem Geiste nach in der Weise dar, wie er es in höherem Alter zu seinem Sekretär Eckermann sprach: Übrigens werden Sie zugeben, daß der Schluß, wo es mit der geretteten Seele nach oben geht, sehr schwer zu machen war, und daß ich bei so übersinnlichen, kaum zu ahnenden Dingen mich sehr leicht im Vagen hätte verlieren können, wenn ich nicht meinen poetischen Intentionen durch die scharf umrissenen christlich-kirchlichen Figuren und Vorstellungen eine wohltätig beschränkende Form und Festigkeit gegeben hätte.
Deshalb steigt Faust auf durch eine Stufenleiter des Daseins, die von den christlichen Symbolen genommen ist, vom Sterblichen zum Unsterblichen, vom Tode zum Leben.
So sehen wir in Schopenhauer förmlich das Hereinragen des buddhistischen Elementes in unsere abendländische Denkweise, das da sagt: Ich warte, bis ich den Vollkommenheitsgrad erreicht habe, wo mit meinem Leibe die letzten Spuren meines Erdendaseins .verwischt sind! Und Schopenhauer glaubte mit dieser Anschauung die Gestalten, welche Raffael und Correggio in ihren Bildern geschaffen haben, interpretieren zu können. — Goethe wollte eine strebende Individualität hinstellen, die sich bewußt war, daß alles, was im Erdendasein errungen ist, bleibend sein muß, der Ewigkeit einverwoben sein muß: «Es kann die Spur von meinen Erdentagen nicht in Äonen untergehn!»
Das ist der wahre, der realistische christliche Impuls, der zur Wiedererweckung der Erdentaten in ihrer Vergeistigung führt. Das ist Auferstehungs-Religion! Das ist Auferweckenlassen des Besten, was auf der Erde errungen wird. Das ist im wahren Sinne eine «realistische» Weltanschauung, die aus den spirituellen Höhen auch den höchsten Inhalt für das Dasein in der Sinneswelt herunterzuholen weiß. Und so können wir sagen: Gerade in Goethe erscheint uns — wie ein Morgenleuchten — ein sich selbst erst verstehendes Christentum der Zukunft, das alle Größe und Bedeutung des Buddhismus anerkennen wird, das aber im Gegensatz zu der Abkehr von den Verkörperungen hinaufführen wird zur Anerkennung eines jeden Daseins von Verkörperung zu Verkörperung. So sieht Goethe im Sinne des richtigen modernen Christen hin auf eine Vergangenheit, die uns aus einer Welt herausgeboren hat; und er sieht hin auf eine Gegenwart, in welcher wir uns etwas erringen, was — wenn es der richtigen Frucht nach erfaßt wird - in Äonen nicht untergehen kann. So kann Goethe, wenn er den Menschen im echt theosophischen Sinne anschließt an das Universum, nicht umhin, den Menschen auch anzuschließen nach der anderen Seite an den echten Inhalt des Christentums. Deshalb sagt er:
Wie an dem Tag, der dich der Welt verliehen,
Die Sonne stand zum Gruße der Planeten,
Bist alsobald und fort und fort gediehen,
Nach dem Gesetz, wonach du angetreten.
So mußt du sein, dir kannst du nicht entfliehen.
So sagten schon Sibyllen, so Propheten.
Diesen Ausspruch kann Goethe nicht hinstellen als etwas, was den Menschen anschließt an die ganze Welt, ohne darauf hinzuweisen, daß so, wie der Mensch herausgeboren ist aus der Konstellation des Daseins, er in der Welt etwas ist, was in Äonen nicht untergehen kann, was Auferstehung feiern muß in seiner vergeistigten Gestalt. Deshalb mußte er diesen Worten hinzufügen die andern:
Und keine Zeit und keine Macht zerstückelt
Geprägte Form, die lebend sich entwickelt.
Und wir können sagen: Und keine Macht und keine Zeit läßt untergehen, was in der Zeit errungen wird und reif wird als Früchte für die Ewigkeit!
Buddha and Christ
Since its inception, the spiritual science movement has been prone to being confused with various other contemporary trends and aspirations. In particular, it is often accused of seeking to transplant certain Eastern spiritual currents, notably the Buddhist spiritual current, into Western culture. Therefore, spiritual research must be particularly interested in today's topic, which aims to reflect on the significance of the Buddhist religion on the one hand and that of Christianity on the other, from the point of view of spiritual science. Those of you who have attended these lectures here on several occasions will know that this is a wide-ranging consideration of world phenomena from the point of view of spiritual life, conducted in a scientific manner.
Anyone who has studied the nature of Buddhism a little will know that the founder of Buddhism, Gotama Buddha, always rejected questions relating to the development of the world and the foundations of our existence; he did not want to talk about them. And how he wanted to speak solely about that through which human beings could attain a satisfying existence. From this point of view, spiritual science or theosophy, since it does not reject talking about the sources of world existence and the great facts of development, should not be confused with Buddhism. And if a very specific view within spiritual science is increasingly being conflated with Buddhism, namely the view of the repeated earthly lives of human beings and of what carries over from earlier earthly lives into later ones as spiritual causation, then it can be said without further ado: It is strange when spiritual science is accused of saying that this view of the reincarnation of human beings, of repeated earthly lives, is Buddhism. It is strange because one should finally understand that spiritual science is not concerned with professing this or that name, but with what can be researched as truth, quite independently of any names in our time. But if the doctrine of the reincarnation of human beings or repeated earthly lives is also to be found among the views of Gotama Buddha, albeit in a completely different form, this is no different for theosophy or spiritual science today than if our elementary teachings on geometry were to be found in Euclid. And just as a teacher of geometry cannot be accused of practicing “Euclidianism,” spiritual science should not be accused of practicing Buddhism when it adopts a teaching such as reincarnation, because similar views can be found in Buddha. Nevertheless, it is necessary to point out that spiritual science is precisely an instrument for examining any religion — on the one hand, the religion that forms the basis of our European culture, Christianity, and on the other hand, the Buddhist creed — according to the sources in the spiritual scientific sense.
The accusation that spiritual science wants to be “Buddhism” is not only made today by those who are unfamiliar with theosophy; it is something that, for example, the great Orientalist Max Müller, who rendered outstanding services to Oriental religious beliefs and their dissemination in Europe, could not be dissuaded from; and he once chose a term for this in a parable he told a writer. He said: If a person were to appear somewhere with a pig that could grunt well, no one would run up to them and find it remarkable that a person was walking around with a pig that could grunt well. But if a person appeared alone who could imitate the grunting of the pig deceptively, then people would run up and regard it as a special miracle! Max Müller chose this example because he wanted to use the pig, which grunts by nature, to describe real Buddhism, which has also become known in Europe. He believes that no one in Europe cares about this true teaching of Buddhism, while false Buddhism, or, as he says, “Mrs. Blavatsky's theosophical fraud,” is welcomed wherever possible. One cannot really consider this parable particularly apt; but apart from the fact that it cannot be called apt to compare the genuine teachings of Buddhism, which came about in such a laborious way, in this manner, Max Müller also wants to say that Madame Blavatsky has portrayed Buddhism in a particularly bad light. So it cannot be compared to a person who has succeeded in imitating the grunting of a pig in a deceptive way; for in that case one would have to assume that Madame Blavatsky had been particularly successful in imitating the grunting of a pig. And even today, very few intelligent theosophists would believe that Madame Blavatsky, who must be credited with having set the ball rolling, successfully reproduced what genuine and true Buddhism is. But that is not necessary at all. Just as someone who wants to practice geometry does not have to reproduce Euclid well, so too does someone who wants to teach theosophy not have to practice Buddhism in the true sense.
If, in the spirit of spiritual science, we now want to delve into the spirit of Buddhism in order to compare it with the spirit of Christianity, we would do best not to go straight to the great teachings, which can easily be interpreted in this or that way, but to try to gain an idea of the scope and significance of Buddhism from its symptoms — that is, from what is effective in the way of thinking and in the whole way of thinking of Buddhism. The best way to do this is to refer to a text that is highly regarded within the Buddhist faith: the Questions of King Milinda to the Buddhist sage Nagasena.
This reminds us of a conversation that can give us a true insight into the spirit of Buddhist thinking. In it, the powerful and intelligent King Milinda asks questions of the Buddhist sage Nagasena. King Milinda, who has never been defeated by a sage because he always knew how to refute anything that was opposed to his views, wants to talk to the Buddhist sage Nagasena about the meaning of the eternal, the immortal in human nature; about what carries over from incarnation to incarnation.
Nagasena asks King Milinda: How did you get here, on foot or by carriage? — By carriage. Now let us examine, says Nagasena, what the carriage is. Is the drawbar the carriage? — No. — Is the wheel the carriage? — No. — Is the yoke the carriage? — No. — Is the seat on which you sat the carriage? — No. — And so, says Nagasena, one can go through all the parts of the carriage; none of the parts is the carriage. Nevertheless, everything we have before us is the carriage, only composed of individual parts; it is only a “name” for what is composed of the parts. If we disregard the parts, we actually have nothing but a name!The meaning and purpose of what Nagasena wants to convey to the king here is this: to divert the gaze from what the eye can rest on in the physical-sensual world. He wants to show that nothing in the physical world actually constitutes what is designated by the “name” of any connection, in order to demonstrate the worthlessness and insignificance of the physical-sensual in its parts. And to clarify the whole use of this parable, Nagasena says: So it is with what constitutes a human being and what carries over from one earthly life to the next. Are hands and legs and head what carries over from one earthly life to the next? No! Is what you do today and what you do tomorrow what carries over from one earthly life to the next? No! So what is it that we consider to constitute a human being? It is name and form! But it is the same as with the name and form of a car. When we summarize the individual parts, we only have a name. We have nothing special except the parts!
And to make this even clearer, we can turn our attention to another parable, which was again developed by the sage Nagasena before King Milinda. — King Milinda says: You say, wise Nagasena, that the name and form of what stands before me as a human being lives on from one incarnation to another. Is it now the name and form of the same being that reappears in a new incarnation, in a new earthly life? Nagasena said to him: Look, the mango tree bears fruit. A thief comes and steals this fruit. The owner of the mango tree says, “You have stolen my fruit!” But the thief replies, “That is not your fruit! Your fruit was what you planted in the ground—that has decayed. But what grows on the mango tree only bears the same name; it is not your fruit!” — Then Nagasena said: It is true, it bears the same name and has the same form; it is not the same fruit. But that is why the thief can be punished if he has stolen! And so — said the sage — it would be with what reappears in a later earthly life compared to what was there in previous incarnations. It is like the fruit of the mango tree that has been planted in the ground. But only because the owner has planted the fruit in the ground is it possible for the fruit to grow on the tree. Therefore, the fruit must be regarded as the property of the person who planted it in the ground.
So it is with human beings, with the deeds and destinies of the new life; one must regard them as the effect and fruit of the previous life. But what appears is something new, just as the fruit on the mango tree is something new.
Thus Nagasena sought to dissolve what once existed in an earthly life in order to show how only the effects carry over into the later earthly life.
In such things, one can, so to speak, feel the whole spirit of Buddhist teaching better than in the great principles, which can be interpreted in one way or another. If we allow the spirit of such parables to work on us, then we see clearly enough that the Buddhist wants to distract his followers from what stands before us here as a human being, as an individual self, as a specific personality; and he wants to point out above all that what appears in a new incarnation is indeed the effect of this personality, but that one has no right to speak of a unified self in the true sense of the word, which extends from one earthly life to another.
If we now move from Buddhism to Christianity, we can, although the parable has never been chosen, paraphrase the example of Nagasena in the Christian sense and shape it in the following way. We could say: King Milinda could have been resurrected, let's say as a Christian; and if the spirit of Christianity prevailed, the conversation would have to take place in the following manner. Nagasena would have to say: Look at the hand! Is the hand the person? No! The hand is not the person. For if there were only a hand, there would be no person. But if we cut off the hand from the human being, it withers and in three weeks would no longer be a hand. So what makes the hand a hand? It is a hand because of the human being! Is the heart the human being? No! Is the heart something that exists on its own? No! For if we remove the heart from the human being, the heart is soon no longer a heart—and the human being is no longer a human being. So it is through the human being that the heart is a heart, and through the heart that the human being is a human being. And conversely, the human being is only a human being on earth because he possesses the heart as an instrument! Thus, in the living organism of the human being, we have parts that are nothing as parts, that are only something in our composition. And when we consider what the individual parts are not, we see that we must return to something that invisibly governs them, that holds them together, that makes use of them as instruments. And even if we can see all the individual parts, we have not grasped the human being if we regard him merely as a collection of individual parts. And now Nagasena could look back on the parable of the cart and could say—speaking from a Christian perspective, of course—it is true that the shaft is not the cart, for you cannot drive with the shaft. It is true that the wheels are not the cart, for you cannot drive with the wheels. It is true that the yoke is not the cart, for you cannot drive with the yoke. It is true that the seat is not the cart, for you cannot drive with the seat! Although the cart is only a name for the assembled parts, you do not drive with the parts that you cannot drive with, but with something that is not the parts. The “name” refers to something special! It leads us to something that is not in any of the parts!
Therefore, the Buddhist mind strives to divert the gaze from what one sees, so to speak, in order to go beyond what one sees; and one denies the possibility of having something special in what one sees. — The spirit of Christian thinking — and this is what matters to us — looks at the individual parts of a car or any other external object in such a way that everywhere the parts point to what the whole is. And because this is the way of thinking and imagining — and that is what matters — we see that a very special consequence arises from the Buddhist view, and a very special consequence arises from the Christian way of thinking. The consequence of the Buddhist view becomes apparent when I simply follow what I have just indicated to its conclusion:
A person stands before us. He is composed of certain parts. This person acts in the world. He commits this or that deed. Standing before us as a human being, his Buddhist beliefs show him the worthlessness of all that exists. He is shown the futility and meaninglessness of all that exists. And he is advised that he should free himself from attachment to the futile in order to attain a real, higher existence; that he should divert his gaze from what the eye rests on and what any human faculty of cognition can acquire in the sensory world. Away from the sensory world! For what is offered there, if we summarize it as name and form, reveals itself in its futility. There is no truth in what stands before us in the sensory world!
Where does the Christian way of thinking lead? It does not regard the individual part as an individual part; it regards it in such a way that a whole, a unified reality, reigns within it. It regards the hand in such a way that it is only the hand because the human being uses it, because the human being makes it a hand. Here, what stands before the eye is something that immediately points to what stands behind it. Therefore, something quite different follows from this way of thinking than from the Buddhist way of thinking.
It follows from this that we can say: Here stands a human being before us. What he is as a human being with his parts, with his deeds, he can only be because behind all this stands a spiritual entity as a human being, which does and accomplishes what he does; which both moves the individual parts and accomplishes the individual deeds. What shows itself in the parts and lives itself out has poured itself into what we see; it will experience fruits and results in what we see, and extract something from an experience in the sensory world that we can call a “result,” and carry it into a subsequent embodiment, into a subsequent life. Behind everything external stands the actor, the active force, which does not reject the external world, but which handles the external world in such a way that the fruits are drawn from it and carried into the next life.
If, as adherents of spiritual science, we stand on the ground of repeated earthly lives, we must say: What holds people together in an earthly life has no permanence for Buddhism; only their deeds have effects for the next life. What holds people together in an earthly life for Christianity is a full self. That has permanence. That carries over all the fruits of this one life into the next earthly life.
So we see that a very specific configuration of thinking, which is much more important than theories and principles, distinguishes these two worldviews enormously. If our time did not tend to focus on theories in particular, it would be easier to grasp the characteristics of a school of thought from its way of thinking, from its symptoms.
What has been said is also related to the very last thing that appears to us on the one hand in the Buddhist way of thinking and on the other hand in the Christian way of thinking. In the Buddhist way of thinking, we have the core of the teaching expressed in tremendously meaningful words by the founder of Buddhism himself. Today's lecture is certainly not intended to develop anything antagonistic towards the great founder of the Buddhist worldview; rather, it is intended to characterize the Buddhist worldview in a completely objective manner. Spiritual science in particular must prove to be the right instrument for penetrating to the core of the various spiritual currents of the world without sympathy or antipathy for this or that.
The Buddha legend tells us clearly enough, albeit in pictorial form, what the founder of Buddhism wanted. It tells us that Gotama Buddha was born as the son of King Suddhodana, that he was raised in a princely palace, where he was surrounded only by things that could elevate human life. In his youth, he knew nothing of human suffering and pain; he was surrounded only by happiness, joy, and distraction. We are then told how he once left the royal palace and how he encountered suffering and pain, all the dark sides of life, for the first time. He saw a sick, ailing person, he saw an old, withering old man, and above all, he saw a corpse. And from this he formed the view that life must be different from what he had seen so far inside the princely palace, where he had only seen the joys of life, but never illness and death; where he had never gained the view that life could wither and die. And from what he had now learned, he formed the view that true life includes suffering and pain. It weighed heavily on the great soul of the Buddha that life contains suffering and pain, as he saw it in the sick man, the old man, and the corpse.
For he said to himself: What is life worth, as it has presented itself to me, if it is inherently accompanied by old age, sickness, and death! And from this arose the monumental teaching of the Buddha on the sufferings of life, which he summarized in the words: Birth is suffering! Old age is suffering! Sickness is suffering! Death is suffering! All existence is filled with suffering. That we cannot always be united with what we love—as Buddha himself later elaborated on this teaching—is suffering! That we must be united with what we do not love is suffering! That we cannot obtain what we want, what we desire, in every situation in life is suffering! So suffering is everywhere we look. Even if the word “suffering” is not meant by Buddha in the same way as it is understood in our time, it still means that human beings are everywhere exposed to external forces against which they cannot actively defend themselves. Life is suffering. Therefore, Buddha said, we must examine the causes of suffering.
Then he saw the phenomenon in the soul, which he described as the “thirst for existence,” the “thirst for existence” in general. If there is suffering in the world everywhere we look, then we must say: Human beings must suffer when they enter this world of suffering. What is the cause of human suffering? The cause is that humans have an urge, a thirst for embodiment in this world. The passion to step out of the spiritual world into physical corporeality, to perceive the outer world of the physical: therein lies the reason for human existence. Therefore, there is only one salvation from suffering, namely to combat the thirst for existence. And the thirst for existence can be combated by developing within oneself, in the spirit of the great Buddha, the so-called “eightfold path,” which is usually explained as consisting of right understanding, right purpose, right speech, right action, right livelihood, right effort, right mindfulness, and right concentration. So, according to the great Buddha, by correctly understanding life and correctly positioning ourselves in life, we gain something that gradually leads people to kill the passion for existence within themselves, which brings them to the point where they no longer have to descend into physical embodiment, which redeems them from an existence where suffering is poured out everywhere. In the sense of the great Buddha, these are the “four noble truths”:
First: the recognition of suffering;
second: the recognition of the causes of suffering;
third: the recognition of the necessity of the cessation of suffering;
fourth: the recognition of the means to the cessation of suffering.
These are the four noble truths which he proclaimed in his great sermon at Benares in the 5th to 6th century BC, after his enlightenment under the Bodhi tree.
“Salvation from the sufferings of existence!” That is what Buddhism emphasizes above all else. This makes it what can be described as a “religion of salvation” in the most eminent sense of the word, a religion of salvation from the sufferings of existence, and because all existence is linked to suffering, from existence, that is, from the course of human rebirth in general!
This is entirely in accordance with the way of thinking indicated in the first part of today's lecture. For if the thought that attaches itself to the external sensory world sees only nothingness, if what composes the individual parts is only name and form, if nothing passes over that carries the effects of one embodiment into the next life, then we can say that “true existence” can only be attained when human beings transcend everything they find in the external sensory world.
It is not correct, as any simple observation can show, to call Christianity a “religion of salvation” in the same sense as Buddhism. If one wants to place Christianity alongside Buddhism in the right way from this point of view, one could call it a “religion of rebirth.” For Christianity proceeds from the knowledge that everything that confronts us in the individual life of a human being bears fruit that is important and valuable for the innermost essence of the human being, and that this fruit is carried over by the human being into a new life and lived out there on a higher level of perfection. Everything we experience and extract from our individual lives appears again and again, becoming more and more perfect, and finally appears in its spiritualized form. The seemingly most insignificant things in our existence, when taken up by the spiritual, are raised to a more perfect level and incorporated into the spiritual. Nothing is insignificant in existence, because it is resurrected when the spirit has brought it into the right form. A religion of rebirth, of the resurrection of the best we have experienced, that is Christianity according to its way of thinking, according to which everything that lies before us is not nothing, but building blocks for constructing the great edifice that is to arise through the joining together of everything spiritual that we have before us in the sensory world. Buddhism is a religion of salvation from existence, while Christianity, in contrast, is a religion of rebirth on a spiritual level.
This is evident to us in the way of thinking in the smallest as well as in the largest and in its ultimate principles. And if we seek the actual causes for this difference, we can say that they lie in the completely opposite character of Eastern and Western culture. There is a radical difference in the way of thinking between the culture from which Buddhism grew and the culture into which Christianity poured itself in the West. This difference can be described in simple terms. It lies in the fact that all truly Eastern culture that has not yet been fertilized by the West is an historical, unhistorical — that all Western culture is historical, based on history. Ultimately, this is also the difference between Christian and Buddhist ways of thinking. Christian thinking is historical; it recognizes that there are not only repeated earthly lives, but that there is history within them; that is, what is initially experienced at a more imperfect level can develop into ever more perfect levels and higher degrees in the course of incarnations. While Buddhism sees salvation from earthly existence in elevation to Nirvana, Christianity sees the goal of its development in all the products and achievements of individual earthly lives shining in ever higher degrees of perfection and experiencing their resurrection in a spiritualized form at the end of earthly existence.
Buddhism is ahistorical, entirely in keeping with the cultural soil in which it grew up. It is ahistorical in that it contrasts the outside world with the human being as he acts within it. The Buddhist believer says: Let us look back at earlier incarnations of human beings, let us look at later incarnations of human beings: human beings stand in opposition to this outside world. He does not ask: Did human beings perhaps stand in opposition to the outside world differently in earlier times, or will they perhaps stand in opposition to it differently in the future? But Christianity asks this question. Therefore, Buddhism comes to the view that the relationship of man to the world into which he is incarnated is always the same; that when humans, driven by the thirst for existence, enter into an embodiment, they enter a world of suffering, regardless of whether it drove humans to thirst for existence in the past or whether it drives them to it now. It is always suffering that the outer world must bring him. Thus, earthly lives repeat themselves without the concept of development truly becoming a historical one in Buddhism. This will also make it clear and understandable to us that Buddhism can basically only see its nirvana, its blissful state, in the turning away from these eternally repeating earthly lives. And so it will be further explained to us that Buddhism must see the sources of suffering in the external world itself. It says: If you enter the sensory world at all, you must suffer; for suffering must come to you from the sensory world!
This is not Christian. The Christian view is thoroughly historical and based on history. It does not simply ask about the timeless and historyless confrontation with the outside world. It does say that as human beings pass from one incarnation to another, they are confronted with an outside world. But if this external world brings him suffering, if it offers him something that does not satisfy him, that does not fill him with an inner, harmonious existence, this does not stem from the fact that existence in general is such that man must suffer; rather, it stems from the fact that man has placed himself in a false relationship to the external world, that he does not position himself correctly in the world! Christianity and also the Old Testament point to a specific event through which man has developed himself internally in such a way that, through his inner being, he can make existence in the outer world a source of suffering. So it is not the outside world, not what we see with our eyes or hear with our ears; it is not the world into which we are embodied that causes us suffering; rather, the human race once developed something within itself that prevents it from relating to this outside world in the right way. This has been passed down from generation to generation, and people still suffer from it today. In the Christian sense, one could say that from the beginning of their earthly existence, human beings have not been able to establish a proper relationship with the outside world.
We could now extend this to the basic beliefs of the two religions. Buddhism will always emphasize that the external world is a maya, an illusion! Christianity, on the other hand, will say that what humans see of the external world is indeed something they believe to be an illusion, but that this depends solely on humans, who have shaped their organs in such a way that they cannot see through the external veil to the spiritual world. It is not the external world itself that is the deception; rather, human perception is the source of deception. It is Buddhist to say: Look at what surrounds you as rocks, what flashes as lightning, it is maya or illusion! What rolls as thunder is Maya or the great deception, for the outer world as it is is Maya, the great deception! It is not correct, in the Christian sense, to say that the outer world as such is an illusion! Rather, humans have not yet found the way to open their spiritual senses—in Goethe's words, their spiritual eyes and ears—which would show them how the outside world is to be seen in its true form! This is not the reason why we are surrounded by deception, by Maya, because the outside world is this Maya, but because human beings are imperfect beings who have not yet managed to see the outside world in its true form. Thus, Christianity seeks in a prehistoric event a fact that has caused the human heart not to form the correct view of the outside world. And in development — through incarnations — one must see, in the Christian sense, the regaining of what can be called spiritual eyes and spiritual ears in order to see the outside world in its true form. Thus, repeated earthly lives are not meaningless, but are the path to seeing in a spiritual light that from which Buddhism wants to liberate human beings; to seeing the spirit in the outer world. Conquering the world that appears to us today as physical through that which human beings do not yet have, but which they must attain as something spiritual; Overcoming the human error of thinking that the outer world is only an illusion, only Maya: that is the innermost impulse of Christianity.
Therefore, Christianity does not present a teacher like Buddhism, who says: The world is a source of suffering! Get out of this world into another that is completely different — into a world of Nirvana! Instead, Christianity presents Christ as a powerful impulse that is supposed to move the world forward, Christ who gave the world the strongest indication of the human inner life, from which human beings can develop those forces that enable them to use every embodiment in which they live on earth in such a way that they can carry the fruits of one existence over to every subsequent existence through their own power. The embodiments should not be completed in order to reach nirvana, but everything that can be absorbed in these embodiments should be used and processed so that it can experience resurrection in a spiritual sense.
This is the most profound difference that, on the one hand, makes Buddhism a non-historical view and, on the other hand, makes Christianity a historical view that seeks the source of suffering and pain in the “fall” of man and, in the “resurrection,” the healing of pain and suffering. You will not be freed from pain and suffering by leaving existence, but by correcting the error through which humanity has brought itself into a false relationship with its environment. The reason why the outside world is a source of suffering lies within you! When your relationship to the environment becomes right, you will see that the outside world, although in truth it melts away like mist before the sun as a world of the senses, nevertheless resurrects all your deeds that you have experienced in it in the spiritual realm!
Christianity is thus a doctrine of rebirth, of resurrection, and only as such can it be placed alongside Buddhism. This means, however, comparing the two creeds in terms of spiritual science, responding to the deepest impulses of both teachings!
What has now been said in general terms can be justified in every detail. For example, something like a “Sermon on the Mount” can also be found in Buddhism. It says:
He who hears the law, that is, what the Buddha proclaims as law, is happy or blessed. He who rises above passions is blessed. He who is able to live in solitude is blessed. He who is able to live with external creatures without doing evil is blessed. And so on.
We could thus regard the Buddhist Beatitudes as a counterpart to the Beatitudes of the “Sermon on the Mount” in the Gospel of Matthew. We just have to understand them in the right way. Let's compare them with what we find in the Gospel of Matthew.
First, we hear the powerful words: “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be filled.” It does not just say, “Blessed are those who hear the law”; it adds a further clause. It says: Blessed are those who are poor in spirit, so that they must beg for spirit, “for theirs is the kingdom of heaven!” What does that mean? One can only understand such a sentence if one brings to mind the entire historical nature of the Christian worldview.
Here again, one must consider that all human soul capacity has experienced a “history,” that all human soul capacity has developed. Spiritual science knows the word “development” to be real and true, so that what is there today was not always there. Spiritual science tells us that what we today call our intellect, our scientific thinking, did not exist in the primeval times of humanity; but instead, in the primeval times of humanity, there was something that could be called a dark, dim clairvoyance. The way in which humans today gain knowledge about the outside world is not how they did so in the past. In the past, something arose within them like a “primordial wisdom” of humanity that goes far beyond what we have been able to fathom again today. Anyone familiar with history knows that such primordial wisdom exists. While humans in ancient times did not know how to build machines, construct railroads, or control the environment with the help of natural forces, they did have insights into the divine-spiritual origins of the world that far exceed our current knowledge.
However, these views were not acquired through reflection. That would be a completely false idea. It was not possible to proceed in the same way as modern science can. It was given to humans like inspirations that arose in the soul; like revelations, inspirations of a dull, dim nature, so that humans were not present when they arose in them. But they could see that they were there; they were there as real afterimages of the spiritual world, of the truly existing primordial wisdom. — But human development consisted in the fact that people progressed from life to life and had less and less of this primordial wisdom, of the old dim clairvoyance. For it was precisely this that was to be brought to humanity, that the old clairvoyance was lost and replaced by the comprehension of things through the activity of the intellect. In the future, human beings will unite both; they will be able to look clairvoyantly into the spiritual world and at the same time bring the forms of today's knowledge into the future. Today we live in an intermediate state. The old clairvoyance has been lost, and what is characteristic of human beings today has only developed over time. How did human beings come to perceive the sensory world with their intellect from their innermost self-awareness? When, in particular, does self-awareness approach human beings?
This was at the time — the development of the world is not usually considered in such detail — when Christ Jesus entered the world. Humanity stood at a turning point in its development, where the old, dim clairvoyance had been lost and the starting point had been laid for what today provides us with our greatest achievements. The turning point from the old to the new era was precisely when Christ entered human development. Truly, Christ was the turning point from the old to the new way of seeing things! And it is simply a technical expression for these achievements that human beings experienced at that time, when they began to recognize the world through their self-awareness — no longer through inspiration — when John the Baptist proclaimed the words: “The kingdom of heaven is at hand!” This means that “knowledge of the world in concepts and ideas” is at hand. In other words, human beings are no longer dependent on the old clairvoyance, but will recognize and explore the world on their own. And Christ Jesus gave the most powerful impulse for what human beings should recognize from their own ego — not through inspiration.
Therefore, there is something profound in these first words of the Sermon on the Mount, something that roughly means: People today are in a position where they are beggars for spirit. In the past, they had clairvoyant insights and could look into the spiritual world. That has now been lost. But the time will come when human beings will be able to find a substitute for their former clairvoyance through the inner power of their ego, through the word that reveals itself within them. Therefore, it is not only those who in former times attained the spirit through dull, dim inspirations who are “blessed,” but those who today no longer have clairvoyance because development has led to this. Oh, they are not unhappy, those who beg for spirit because they are impoverished in spirit. They are blessed, for theirs is that which is revealed through their own ego, which they can attain through self-awareness.
And let us continue. “Blessed are those who suffer”; for even if the sensual outer world causes suffering through the way in which man has placed himself in the outer world, the time has now come when man, if he grasps his self-consciousness and develops the powers lying in his ego, will recognize the remedy for suffering. Within themselves, they will find the possibility of comforting themselves for their suffering. The time has come when external comfort loses its unique significance, because the ego must find the strength to find the remedy for suffering from within. Blessed are those who can no longer find in the outside world what they used to find there. This is also the highest meaning of the beatitude “Blessed are those who hunger for righteousness, for they shall be filled”: in the self itself, a source will be found to find compensatory justice for what is unjust in the world.
Thus, Christ Jesus is the reference to the human self, to the divine part in the human being itself, and thus the reference to this: Take what lives in Christ as an example into your inner being; then you will find the strength to bear the fruits of earthly existence from incarnation to incarnation. For it is important for human life in the spiritual world that human beings conquer what can be experienced in earthly existence.
Therefore, an event that can initially only be described as painful in Christianity is the death of Christ Jesus, the mystery of Golgotha. This death does not have the usual meaning of death; rather, Christ presents death here as the starting point of an immortal, invincible life. This death is not merely that Christ Jesus wants to free himself from life; rather, this death is experienced because it has an upward effect and because eternal, imperishable life is to flow from this death.
This is something — as those who lived in the first centuries of Christianity also felt — that will be recognized more and more as the understanding of the Christ impulse becomes greater than it is today. Then it will be understood that six centuries before Christ, one of the greatest human beings stepped out of his palace, saw a dead person, a corpse, and formed the judgment: Death is suffering! Liberation from death is salvation! And that he wanted nothing to do with what is subject to death. Now six centuries pass until Christ. And after another six centuries have passed, a symbol is erected for what future humanity will only recognize. What is this symbol?
Not a Buddha, not a chosen one — no, naive people went and saw the symbol: they saw the cross erected and a corpse on it. And they did not say: Death is suffering! — they did not turn away, but saw in this corpse that which was a guarantee for them of the eternity of life, for that which conquers all death, which points beyond the sensory world. The noble Buddha saw a corpse; he turned away from the sensory world and came to the conclusion: Death is suffering! Those who, as naive people, looked at the cross with the corpse, did not turn away — they looked at it because it was proof to them that eternal life springs from this earthly death!
Six hundred years before the founding of Christianity, the Buddha stood before the corpse; six hundred years after the appearance of Christ, the simple people saw the symbol that expressed to them what had happened through the founding of Christianity. Never before has there been such a radical change in the development of humanity! So if one looks at things objectively, one can be even clearer about what is great and significant about Buddhism.
We have said that human beings started out with a primordial wisdom, and in the course of various incarnations this primordial wisdom was lost to them more and more. The appearance of the great Buddha signifies the end of an ancient development; it is a powerful, world-historical indication that human beings have lost the ancient knowledge, the ancient primordial wisdom. This then explains, historically, the turning away from life. Christ is the starting point of a new development that sees the sources of the eternal in this life. — In our time, there has not yet been any clarification regarding these important facts of human development. This may be why precisely because these things are still unclear, there are wonderful, noble natures in our time, such as Theodor Schultze, who died in Potsdam in 1898, who, because they cannot find what they need for their rich inner life in external observation, turn to something else and find salvation in what Buddhism can be for them today. And Buddhism shows them, in a certain sense, how human beings, lifted out of sensory existence, can rise above themselves through a certain unfolding of their inner powers. But this is only possible because the greatest impulse, the innermost source of Christianity, is still so little understood.
Spiritual science should one day be the instrument for penetrating ever deeper and deeper into the Christian way of thinking. And it is precisely the idea of development, which spiritual science takes seriously, that will be able to lead people to a precise and intimate understanding of Christianity, so that spiritual science can hope that, in contrast to misunderstood Christianity, correctly understood Christianity will increasingly emerge, without transplanting Buddhism into our time. It would be a short-sighted view if any spiritual scientific movement wanted to transplant Buddhism into Europe. Anyone who knows the conditions of European spiritual life knows that even those movements that today seem to be fighting Christianity have taken their entire arsenal of weapons from Christianity itself. No Darwin, no Haeckel would be possible — as grotesque as it sounds — if it had not been possible, through Christian education, to think as Darwin and Haeckel thought; if there were not the thought forms with which those who have been educated in Christianity itself fight, so to speak, their own mother. What these people say is often apparently directed against Christianity. It is meant against Christianity, as they say. But the fact that they can think this way comes from their Christian upbringing. Therefore, it would be hopeless, at the very least, if someone wanted to introduce something Oriental into our culture, because it would contradict all the conditions of our spiritual life in the West. One must only be clear about the basic teachings of the two religions.Anyone who takes a closer look at spiritual life knows, however, that things are still so unclear that there are spirits who, even from the highest philosophical vantage point, want to turn away from life and feel sympathetic to the ideas of Buddhism. We have such a personality in Schopenhauer. His whole life force has something that we can describe as “Buddhist.” For example, when he says: The highest image of humanity stands before us when we see what we call a “saint,” who has overcome everything that the outer world can offer in his life; who stands there only in his body, harbors nothing more than ideals from the environment; who wants nothing, but only waits until his body itself is destroyed, so that every trace of what connected him to the sensory world is erased, so that by turning away from the sensory world he can destroy his sensory existence, so that nothing remains of what in life leads from fear to suffering, from suffering to terror, from pleasure to pain!
This is the intrusion of Buddhist sentiment into our Western world. We must say: Certainly, this exists because of our unclear circumstances, because we do not fully understand the deepest impulse of what lives in Christianity in terms of content and form. What have we achieved through Christianity? Looking purely at the impulse, we have achieved that which sets one of the most significant personalities so sharply apart from Schopenhauer in this very respect. While Schopenhauer sees his ideal in someone who has overcome everything that external life can give him in terms of pleasure and pain, who is only waiting for the last traces of his physical connection to dissolve, Goethe, on the other hand, presents us with a striving human being in his “Faust,” who moves from desire to pleasure and from pleasure to desire, and who ultimately purifies himself and transforms his desires to such an extent that the most sacred thing that can shine into our lives becomes his passion; who does not stand there and say, “I am only waiting until the last traces of my earthly existence have faded away,” but who utters the great words: “The trace of my earthly days cannot perish in eons!”
Goethe expresses this in his Faust in the same spirit and meaning as he did in his later years to his secretary Eckermann: Incidentally, you will admit that the conclusion, where the saved soul ascends, was very difficult to write, and that with such supernatural, barely conceivable things, I could very easily have lost myself in vagueness if I had not given my poetic intentions a beneficially restrictive form and solidity through the sharply defined Christian-ecclesiastical figures and ideas."
That is why Faust ascends through a ladder of existence taken from Christian symbols, from the mortal to the immortal, from death to life.
Thus, in Schopenhauer, we see the Buddhist element formally entering our Western way of thinking, which says: I will wait until I have reached the degree of perfection where the last traces of my earthly existence are erased from my body! And Schopenhauer believed that with this view he could interpret the figures that Raphael and Correggio had created in their paintings. Goethe wanted to portray a striving individuality that was aware that everything achieved in earthly existence must be lasting, must be woven into eternity: “The trace of my earthly days cannot perish in eons!”
This is the true, realistic Christian impulse that leads to the reawakening of earthly deeds in their spiritualization. This is the religion of resurrection! This is the awakening of the best that is achieved on earth. This is, in the true sense, a “realistic” worldview that knows how to bring down from the spiritual heights the highest content for existence in the sensory world. And so we can say: in Goethe in particular, we see — like a morning glow — a self-understanding Christianity of the future that will recognize all the greatness and significance of Buddhism, but which, in contrast to the turning away from incarnations, will lead to the recognition of every existence from incarnation to incarnation. Thus, in the spirit of the true modern Christian, Goethe looks back on a past that has brought us forth from a world; and he looks at a present in which we are achieving something that — if it is grasped in its true fruit — cannot perish in eons. Thus, when Goethe connects human beings to the universe in a truly theosophical sense, he cannot help but also connect them to the other side, to the true content of Christianity. That is why he says:
As on the day that gave you to the world,
The sun stood in greeting to the planets,
You grew immediately and continuously,
According to the law by which you came into being.
You must be this way, you cannot escape it.
So said the Sibyls, so said the prophets.
Goethe cannot present this statement as something that connects humans to the whole world without pointing out that, just as humans are born out of the constellation of existence, they are something in the world that cannot perish in eons, that must celebrate resurrection in its spiritualized form. That is why he had to add these other words:
And no time and no power can fragment
The molded form that develops itself in life.
And we can say: And no power and no time can destroy what is achieved in time and ripens as fruit for eternity!